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Espace spirituel anglophone
Un dimanche sur deux à 08h44. Des réflections spirituelles proposés aux anglophones - sous le titre "Perspectives".
Pour vous abonner gratuitement au podcast de l'émission, copiez l'adresse suivante dans le lecteur média (itunes, windows média player,winamp...) de votre choix : http://podcast.radio-accords-poitou.com/podcast/espia/podcast.rss
Écouter les dernières émissions - go to the link: Podcast - and find 'Espace Spirituel Anglophone'
Since September 2012 Espace Spirituel Anglophone broadcasts every second Sunday morning under a new title: ___________________________________________________________________________
PERSPECTIVES
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Broadcast 31 March 2013 EASTER DAY
As we go through life, many people call our name. And it’s amazing how many different messages that can be conveyed, depending on just how people do it. When we’re growing up, our parents call our name. Sometimes that is done in a very calm, gentle, loving manner. But other times, especially when they use our full name, it conveys a completely different message. And when we go to school, our teachers call our name. And the way they do it can carry all kinds of emotions – from delight to disgust, from reward to reproof. [John 20:1-18] 20 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 3Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. 4The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, 7and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. 8Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples returned to their homes. 11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; 12and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. We are with Mary of Magdala at the empty tomb. She was one of those who had kept vigil at the foot of the cross; she had seen for herself that he was dead. Now she wanted to complete the ritual for his burial, which had been cut short because of the Sabbath: This was the last service she could do for him.
Through John’s eyes we see her, baffled that the stone has been rolled away, very nervous that the guards had moved or even hidden his body. Having endured the daylong trauma of the crucifixion, and probably a couple of sleepless nights, she could not have been calm and collected. Almost certainly she would have been in physical shock. She runs back to the disciples to get them to verify her discovery. Later after they have gone, she still cannot leave the place and manages to bring herself to enter the tomb. All she can see are the two angels, not surprisingly she doesn’t realise who they are. Blinded by her tears and in the depths of grief, she hears the gardener’s question, without recognising him as Jesus, it is only when he calls her by name that she finally realizes who he is.
What did that mean for her, but even more importantly, what does it mean for us today when Jesus calls our name? For Mary it is just one word, one she never thought to hear again - “Mary” - That’s it. That’s all that was needed. When Jesus called her name, it completely changed Mary’s life forever. And it changed her whole relationship with Jesus. The good news is that Jesus is still in the business of calling our names .
This Easter morning, Jesus is calling your name. He has confirmed in your heart the reality of the resurrection. He’s calling you to enter into a new relationship with Him. And He’s also calling you to respond to His invitation.
Hazel Door
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Broadcast 17 March 2013
A CHOIX In the Old Testament book devoted to his exploits, Joshua challenges his enemies: “Choose today whom you are going to serve – as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord”.
Every now and then, those of us involved in “Perspectives” receive an email from Gavin Brown. He tells us when the next recording session will be and sometimes he might suggest a theme, relevant to the day on which our talk will be broadcast. This time his email simply said “à choix” – our own choice. A very generous and perhaps risky act on his part: who knows what we might come up with?! But it set me thinking about the choices that we make throughout our lives, the reasons for them and, indeed, their consequences.
As children we trust our parents – it’s a choice we make without thinking. Mummy and Daddy know what’s best for us. In teenage years it’s a bit different. We think that we know best, we want to make our own decisions. Some of those choices prove to be good ones, others less so! Maybe we learn from experience.
Then with adult maturity, we hope, comes the whole reasoning bit. When there’s a decision to be taken or a choice to be made, we start to think things through. What reasons do we have for this or that course of action? What influences or pressures are being put upon us? What are the potential outcomes likely to be?
That sounds very hifalutin for many of our day-to-day decisions. I choose to get up in the morning (I could stay in bed), I choose to eat toast for breakfast (I could have cereal or bacon and eggs), I choose to drive to Poitiers to record this programme (I could phone up and say I’m not well).
Let’s examine more closely the choice between getting up or staying in bed. First influence – I’m warm and comfortable. Second – it’s cold and wet and windy outside. Third – another half an hour won’t matter. BUT, says the rational mind, there’s work to be done, there’s an appointment to be kept which, if you wait 30 minutes, will make other people late for what they’re planning, there are people relying on you, Etc, etc. And, weighing these against one another, the choice is made.
Other choices concern our personal tastes – for food, for art, for music. On the surface there’s nothing to think about, especially if we live alone. I can eat what I like, listen to what music I like, watch my favourite television programmes and so on. There are no decisions to be made, except whether it’s to be Eastenders or Coronation Street.
If we share our lives with others, then the reasons for our choices start to be considered. A couple with whom I am going to stay in London soon reminded me the other day that they are vegetarians – their choice, but it affects me, because I love my meat. What if they want to listen to the Rolling Stones all day when I prefer Johann Sebastian Bach? Our choices in such realms affect our relationships with other people.
Which is where morality comes in. That old maxim “Do unto others as you would have them do to you” seems to be common to most religions and philosophies. It says that when we are making choices, we cannot – or at least should not – make them without considering the potential outcome, the consequences, not just for ourselves but for other people. I must quote here the Christian poet John Donne who wrote these words in 1624:
No man is an island, Entire of itself. A part of the main.
Sometimes it may seem hard to believe, but the actions we take can and do have implications for many people whom we may never meet or even know about.
I remember from my days of teaching, if I got out of bed on the wrong side (at least I did get out), it would not be difficult to get into a petty argument with a fellow teacher before school started. In my aggrieved state I could then snap at the children for the least thing and they would become unhappy. Meanwhile my colleague would be exerting the same negative influence in his classroom so that at least two sets of children would be upset. Those children could go to their next classes and their next teachers feeling unhappy and spreading the gloom. And so on and so forth. Just because I don’t do mornings. That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I hope the point is made.
On the other hand, one person who deserves much praise is the one who coined the saying “If you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours”! That’s a choice, too – to smile. See the ripple effect of that!
David Hawken ___________________________________________________________________________________
l Broadcast 3 March 2013
The Gospel in the Willows
As we are now in Lent I would like this week to share with you a section of a book I have read called ‘The Gospel in the Willows' by Leslie J. Francis. It has been inspired by ‘The Wind in the Willows’. It begins with a section of ‘Wind in the Willows’, moves to the Bible passage Mark 4: 35-41. And then finishes with a meditation bringing the two together
The one I am going to read is Episode 3: The Crossing. It is situated by the river Bank.
Then the two animals stood and regarded each other cautiously. ‘Hello, Mole’! said the Water Rat. ‘Hello, Rat! said the Mole. ‘would you like to come over?’ inquired the Rat presently.
‘Oh, it’s all very well to talk,’ said the Mole, rather pettishly, he being new to a river and riverside life and its ways.
The Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled on it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just the size for two animals; and the Mole’s whole heart went out to it at once, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses. The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his fore-paw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. ‘Lean on that!’ he said. ‘Now then, step lively!’ and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.
Mark 4: 35-41:
On the evening of the same day Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Let us go across to the other side of the lake.’ So they left the crowd; the disciples got into the boat in which Jesus was already sitting, and they took him with them. Other boats were there too. Suddenly a strong wind blew up, and the waves began to spill over into the boat, so that it was about to fill with water. Jesus was in the back of the boat, sleeping with his head on a pillow. The disciples woke him up and said, ‘Teacher, don’t you care that we are about to die?’ Jesus stood up and commanded the wind, ‘Be quiet!’ and he said to the waves,’ Be still!’ the wind died down, and there was a great calm. Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Why are you frightened? Have you still no faith?’ But they were terribly afraid and said to one another, ‘Who is this man? Even the wind and the waves obey him!’
Meditation
Standing there on the river’s edge, Mole knew that he was standing on the edge of a tremendous new experience. Mole had heard the call of the river, and he had responded to that call. Mole had listened to the tales of the river, sent from the heart of the earth, and he was being transformed by their message. Mole had witnessed the power of the river, and he was being attracted by its self-authenticating authority. But, as yet, Mole had not entrusted himself to the river.
Standing there on the edge of their commitment to Jesus, the disciples knew that they were standing on the edge of a tremendous new experience. The disciples had heard the call of the teacher, and they had responded to that call. The disciples had listened to the tales of the teacher, sent from the heart of heaven, and they were being transformed by his message. The disciples had witnessed the healing power of the teacher, and were being attracted by his self-authenticating authority. But, as yet, the disciples had not entrusted themselves to the teacher.
Standing there on the river’s edge, Mole knew that he had to step out in faith, step out into the unknown. A distant voice was inviting him to leave the safety of the dry land, to leave the bank on which all his experience had been based, and to put his trust in an unknown boat.
Standing there on the edge of their commitment to Jesus, the disciples knew that they had to step out in faith, step out into the unknown. A distant voice was inviting them to leave the safety of the dry land, to leave the shore on which all their experience had been based, and to put their trust in an unknown vessel.
Leaving terra firma behind, Mole stretched out his paw and found Rat’s firm confident grasp. ‘Lean on that’, said Rat, and Mole, to his surprise and rapture, found himself actually seated safe in the stern of the boat. At last Mole could rest his faith on first –paw experience. Having allowed his very wellbeing to be threatened, Mole could for himself experience salvation, that healing and that safety in which real conversion is grounded.
Leaving terra firma firmly behind, the disciples stretched out their hands and found Jesus’ firm confident grasp. ‘Be quiet, be still, have faith,’ Said Jesus, and the disciples to their surprise and rapture, found themselves actually seated safe in the boat with Jesus, too, on board. At last the disciples could rest their faith on first-hand experience. Having allowed their wellbeing to be threatened, the disciples could for themselves experience that salvation, that healing and that safety in which real conversion is grounded.
Like Mole, you and I have heard the call of the river, that goes on flowing through all eternity, and we have responded to that call. Like the disciples, we have listened to the tales of the teacher, sent from the heart of heaven, and we are being transformed by their message. Now we, like them, must grasp the hand that has been held out to us. We must leave behind the security of terra firm and learn for real the lesson of setting out on the sea of faith. Jesus calls us to cross over to the other side of the lake and to trust him for the journey. Allowing our very wellbeing to be threatened on the sea of faith, allows us also to experience for ourselves that salvation, that healing and that safety in which real conversion is grounded.
Carolyn Kimber
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Broadcast 17 February 2013
C C D Music: Arvo Pärt: Fratres
This programme is being recorded during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Which has got me thinking. Let me begin by saying I have enormous respect for the learned members of the various churches who contribute to the success of the ecumenical movement; and to date it has been a great success, thanks to their scholarly application, teasing authentic meaning from different theological statements and interpretations, and all achieved with mutual respect for diverse expressions of deep-seated faith. It’s a tribute to their patience and skill that reconciliations have been achieved at the highest level between established churches, which even fifty years ago would have been thought impossible.
But now it’s my feeling that the movement itself has to move on with a bolder step. So today I am announcing a movement for the celebration of Christian diversity – we can call it CCD for short, since everyone so loves abbreviations these days. However, this movement has no institutional framework, no formal membership, no honorary Patrons or distinguished Presidents. This is a movement of the soul, a paradigm shift in the heart of humanity. And it begins by us acting as brothers (and sisters) in spirit, even while remaining divided into churches and congregations that are separate in style and expression. It is a call to find the true meaning of our common heritage, which is the love of God. My first problem with the concept of Christian unity is the number: One. All the evidence suggests that God does not want us to be all the same. Take the incident of the Tower of Babel. God found men happily making bricks for a tyrant who wanted to enslave them, bricks of a uniform shape and size, meant for building a tower which would reach up right into heaven itself. And He didn’t like it. Not simply because it was a challenge to Him, but because it spoiled His plan, which was that mankind should “go forth and multiply, and cover the face of the earth”. He didn’t want them to become a crowd of fusional clones, all answering to the same muezzin call; he wanted them to be various and independent, each one more interesting than the last. So he sent down on them what seemed at the time to be a curse, but was in fact a blessing: all at once they found that their languages were varied and different, so that they could not understand one another. He had given them a new challenge to overcome. After which, it took more than two millennia for the churches to come to the conclusion that talking was better than fighting, that ecumenical dialogue was better than mutual anathema. But the problem with the number One is not simply the tendency towards uniformity. There’s another difficulty: who is going to be number one? I had a friend who went to a conference of the Equipes Notre Dame, a cross-church movement for married couples, known in the UK as Teams of Our Lady; in the handbook of the conference there was a quote from the marriage service “the two shall become one; those whom God has put together let no man separate”. In the margin he showed me the comment he could not resist making at the time: - “Yes, but which one do they become?” The question of primacy is remarkably deep-rooted. Perhaps it’s because, long before becoming the capital of the Empire into which Jesus was born, Rome had already a long tradition of rule by religious leaders who derived their authority from a divine origin. The Pontifex Maximus was the one who controlled the interpretation of the auspices, and his word was therefore unchallengeable. It’s surely no coincidence that this title was assumed by the Christian ruler of the Roman Church to denote his status as the great builder of bridges between peoples. But perhaps now this assumption is a barrier to further progress. As some in the ecumenical movement already admit, with supremacy we find ourselves at the foot of a high wall. So I feel it is time for the ecumenical movement to show maturity and rise above the search for unity, acknowledging that the search for God can take many forms and find expression in a wide variety of languages, images and symbols, even some which are contradictory or at least in apparent conflict. With the same respect for truth and courtesy for difference, we can take the dialogue further in the search for reconciliation if we allow unity to be replaced by mutual admiration and sharing in the rich treasures of past expressions of faith, bearing always in mind the wise words of Pope John XXIII at the opening of the Second Vatican Council: “The deposit of faith - the truths which are contained in our time-honored teaching - is one thing; the manner in which these truths are set forth is something else.”
Gavin Brown
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Broadcast 3 February 2013 RESTLESS
Can you feel it? That sense of unease everywhere? That restlessness? The earth itself is restless, constantly moving, threatening to split open, throwing whole cities to the ground, or erupting impatiently and sending hot lava over the land. The climate doesn’t seem to know what to do with itself either. Everywhere chaos reigns, bringing catastrophic floods and fires, winds and storms. But it’s the same for us, for humanity in all its different forms and cultures. Restlessness pervades the world. A single trigger can spark a revolution. An unemployed youth loses hope in the face of his obstructive government and sets fire to himself, and then the Arab Spring breaks out, bringing oppressive regimes in conflict with their peoples. How long will women put up with being oppressed and abused? A little girl shot by the Taliban just for wanting an education, a young woman gang raped and murdered on a bus, more triggers to spark a feminine revolution which could change the world. On all levels of our lives, the balance of power is changing. Soon China will take over from the USA as the primary superpower. As for the global financial situation, with whole countries bankrupt, catastrophe seems always to be just around the corner. Our civilisation is under threat, and much of the threat comes from within. The militant movement for gay marriage is a sign of it. The ancient empires of Greece and Rome fell apart when it started happening there. The family is the bedrock of any society or civilisation. It’s the future of humanity. We all know that diversity of life is vital to its continuing on this planet, that the more plants and creatures become extinct, the closer the world comes to extinction. But unity is only unity when it’s a union of the diverse and only diversity gives fecundity. It’s to the glory of the Christian faith that it has so many diverse expressions. It’s a sign that it’s true, not just a human invention. Diversity is not to be discouraged but celebrated in union. So, in this scenario of global chaos is there any hope for us? Will we wake up in time to change our ways of thinking and being? Has human nature evolved at all over the millennia? And for those of us who are feeling uncomfortable in these desperate times, how are we to live from day to day and how can we influence the future for the good of all?
We look to God. And in the Trinity we see diversity, three persons, one God; union in diversity. When the Holy Spirit came down, the one spirit gave himself individually to each apostle in tongues of flame. He didn’t smother them under one blanket, making them all the same! St Paul speaks of the diversity of the gifts of the spirit, making each person, with his or her diverse talents one in the body of the Church. And way back in the Old Testament, the Genesis story of Babel teaches that God wants diversity not uniformity. Either we struggle to master the other, or become like the other, as if it was the only way, when all we need to do is celebrate the other, whether as individuals, as marriage partners, societies or nations. Live and let live and enjoy! But we seem to find it all so hard. We really haven’t come very far since Genesis, in spite of Jesus’ teachings which go way beyond celebrating our neighbour and on to loving our neighbour even as ourselves It isn’t a rule to follow, it’s a whole way of living, but we barely seem to understand it let alone live it.
Again we look to God in our restlessness. There are many good old English hymns to help us; Everything changes but God changes not; and that old favourite, ABIDE WITH ME, Change and decay in all around I see, oh Thou that changest not, abide with me. Today, the crucial time is on us. The warning signs in Luke chapter 21 (8-10) can be seen daily, earthquakes, fires, floods, wars and famines. The followers of apocalyptic events point out it was never quite this bad. The end of the world is nigh, even if it failed to materialise is the sudden manner expected last December. So, we have to keep faith in the one that changes not, holding on to Him who is the way the truth and the life, learning to walk serenely with Him through the mayhem. The psalms give us comfort, my rock, my refuge, who has strengthened the bars of my gates, and even through the valley of the shadow of death is my comfort. In Luke Jesus comforts us, Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. (Luke 21, 33). Because an ending is always a beginning, and it isn’t so much that the end of the world is at hand, whether we’re talking about a civilisation, an extinction or even the whole planet that’s in trouble, but that the longed for Kingdom of God is coming nearer. Things are going to be different. The whole creation is waiting with eagerness for the children of God to be revealed, so that the whole creation itself might be freed from its slavery to corruption and brought into the same glorious freedom as the children of God. (Romans 8 19-21) The job of every one of us today, Christian or not, is to harmonise ourselves with Him who was and is, to become one in a marriage of diversity, God and man, in the steps of Jesus who incarnated at Christmas, a union that is truly fertile for the future of the humanity. Celebrating this union, we will make music in the discord of the world, and that is how we will get through, even drawing others with us. Courage mes enfants! The end is but the beginning.
Valerie Brown ________________________________________________________________
The Week of Prayer for Christian Unity
Broadcast 20 January 2013
At least once a year, many Christians become aware of the great diversity of ways of adoring God. Hearts are touched, and people realize that their neighbours' ways are not so strange. The event that touches off this special experience is something called the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Traditionally celebrated between 18-25 January (in the northern hemisphere) or at Pentecost (in the southern hemisphere), the Week of Prayer enters into congregations and parishes all over the world. Pulpits are exchanged, and special ecumenical worship services are arranged. Suggestions for these special services are agreed both from the Vatican and the World Council of Churches.
We’re going to have a brief look at some of this year’s thoughts today, based on the Old Testament prophecy of Micah, chapter 6 verse 8:
What does the Lord require of you?
Micah reminds his readers and hearers that the true worship of God involves more than membership of race or religion, more than correct liturgy, more than giving to charity or indulging in positive thinking. The prophet challenges us to create a world society built on dignity, equality and justice. That’s a huge expectation, but like most apparently unreachable targets, it can begin by each of us taking small steps.
The Student Christian Movement of India, along with the All India Catholic University Federation and the National Council of Churches in India, was invited to prepare resources for the 2013 Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. They have suggested that we direct our thinking towards eight dimensions of an authentic Christian discipleship which walks the path of righteousness that leads to life. We can walk each of our small steps with them.
First, we walk in conversation – if there are barriers to be overcome, then dialogue is needed. Among the churches, in the struggle of peoples for liberation across the globe and in our personal lives, speaking and listening, to one another and to God, are essential.
As Christians, we walk in the broken body of Christ. His physical body was broken on the cross. We, His spiritual Body, continuing His work in the world, walk with Him to share our bread with the hungry, to break down the barriers of poverty and injustice wherever and whenever opportunity is given to us.
We walk towards freedom: let us celebrate the efforts of all who protest and work to end all that enslaves humankind. Our freedom in the Spirit of God leads us to pray that anything which separates people from one another may be done away with.
We walk as children of the earth: awareness of our place in God’s creation draws us together, as we realise our interdependence upon one another and the earth. Such realisation leads us to the urgent call for environmental care and to proper sharing and justice with regard to the fruits of the earth.
We walk as friends of Jesus – as we understand this, we are aware of the consequences of relationships within our own congregations, our neighbours and the worldwide Body (with a capital B). All barriers of exclusion are inconsistent within a community in which all are equally the beloved friends of Jesus.
We walk beyond barriers: travelling with God means walking beyond barriers that divide and damage His children. Think about the human barriers you and I put up every day – of race, religion, age, gender, colour, economic or educational achievement, physical and mental strength or skill, language, the list regrettably goes on and on. St Paul reminds us that we are “all one in Christ Jesus” – maybe we should give some time to thinking that one through, and then acting upon it.
Our seventh walk is that of solidarity: To walk humbly with God means walking in solidarity with all who struggle for justice and peace – not just nationally and internationally, but among our neighbours and friends and families. Walking in solidarity has implications for individual believers AND for the whole Christian community. The Church is called and empowered to share the suffering of all by advocacy and care for the poor, the needy and the marginalised. Such is implicit in our prayer for Christian Unity this week.
Finally, we walk in celebration: not of a successful completion of our walk, because we must never stop seeking reconciliation, but as a sign of hope in God and His justice expressed through His people. What does God require of His people? Note – He requires! It’s not a suggestion or an optional extra. We who claim the name of Jesus are required:
- To act justly - To love mercy - To walk humbly with our God
Justice and mercy do not always sit comfortably side by side in our reasoning. Think of Portia’s plea to Shylock in Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice”. But if our intention is walk humbly with God, then both are possible.
Do you find this all a bit daunting? How can I bring about world peace, you ask? How can I be involved in bringing unity among the different Christian groups that exist? What can I do? I am reminded of a simple hymn I first sang in Sunday School many years ago:
Jesus bids us shine with a pure, clear light Like a little candle burning in the night In this world is darkness: so we must shine – You in your small corner, and I in mine.
As we continue on the journey of reconciliation – among the nations, in the churches or in our own personal relationships – each of us takes one small step at a time. We light our little candle and then we step out of our corner, bearing that light – the light of Christ – towards others. God bless and encourage you in your walk!
David Hawken
_______________________________________________________________________ Broadcast 6 January 2013 Epiphany
I would like to share with you a section of a book I have been reading. The book is called Companions on the Bethlehem Road, by Rachel Boulding. It is a book of Daily Readings and reflections for the Advent journey.
Today we celebrate the journey of the Magi, or the three wise men, to the stable where the newly born Christ is lying in a manger surrounded by animals and all that that entails.
Our Gospel reading from Matthew2 verses 1-3, 8, 10-12 reads:
Behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him… And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also… When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way. We have finally reached the crown of this part of the Christmas season: the coming of the wise men at the Epiphany, which literally means, the ‘showing’, of Christ to the world. T.S. Eliot’s poem ‘Journey of The Magi’ helps to bring this to reality and about how to go back to our previous life after the experience of Christ at Christmas. We have the choice of being submerged yet again into our old tired, limited existence or of drawing on the vision to forge a new, more hopeful and less fearful life. 'A cold coming we had of it,
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, All this was a long time ago, I remember, The story of the wise men also gathers together other themes of the Christmas season: like the shepherds, the wise men come, worship and offer gifts; like Jesus and the holy innocents, they face Herod’s murderous wrath. The first element here can form a pattern for us now. During the past five weeks we have been moving towards Jesus, at the same time as he has been coming to us. We have pondered the paradoxes and mysteries of his incarnation –thinking over the mind boggling ideas of his leaving his home in heaven to become a tiny vulnerable baby. Poets have offered insights into all this, which can only foster awe and worship from us. So, like the wise men, we have travelled, if only in our minds, and worshipped. Now we can also offer our own treasures. Epiphany is a good time to think about our particular concerns this New Year, our hopes, fears, griefs, we could ask ourselves where we are now, are we content with our situation. What exactly is holding us back from offering our treasures to Christ?
May I wish you a very Happy and Peaceful New Year.
Carolyn Kimber
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Broadcast 23 December 2012
The Declension of ‘BEING’
This week we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the historic day over 2000 years ago when, in the words of the Evangelist, “The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us”. So today let’s contemplate what it meant for God, who is being itself, to take on the particular form of being which we know as human existence.
“When I was at school I had to learn French: “Je suis, tu es, il est; nous sommes, vous êtes, ils sont”. What I did not appreciate was that in this declension of the verb ‘to be’ there was a catechism on God, on love, on life and death, on the sense of our existence, and on how existence is different from any other mode of being. Jesus often said ‘I am’ to explain Himself; “I am the Resurrection and the life”; “I am the way, the truth and the life”. In so saying, he echoed the word of his Father (Our Father) who said to Moses “I am that which I am”; “I am that which I shall be”; or even, in another translation of the Hebrew, “I am the living one”.
If we love one another we identify ourselves with this God who loves, this God who is the living God, this God who will be all in all: source and sum of all being; the resurrection and the life which transcends each personal existence and gives us hope of eternally being; a being beyond the time and space which define each instance of existence. When we come into this world we recognize before any other thing the fact that we exist; and we say ‘I am’. This happens before any word or thought has formed, it is the base of my conscious awareness of myself. Very soon though, I become aware that there is another before me – an Other - who looks at me with love, and when I open my mouth to say her name it comes out as – ‘ma – mamma’. At this point in time I begin to recognize that there are other things and other people who exist around me; but it is only ‘I’ who ‘am’. I have not yet learned to say ‘thou art’. That will come later; when I have learned to love. We love one another when we have learned to look on this Other as a ‘being’. Not only does she or he exist: she ‘is’. What I am, she is also. She too has a right to live; she is independent of my being, of my demands, my needs, my desires. The one that we truly love is truly free, just as I am free. Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you”: difficult, but not impossible, if I learn to permit the other to exist apart from me, beside me, with me. Interesting, that we celebrate today one who will be called Emmanuel – God with us.
When we love in truth, the ‘I’ and the ‘thou’ can become one flesh. A little one arrives in the heart of this love, and we say ‘he’ is. He or she too is a being, an independent person – even if for the moment he relies on us. To him we entrust our ‘what shall be’ (our ‘à venir’, as the French say). Or, as God the Father said to Moses, ‘that which I shall be’: another existence, a new beginning, our hope to be remembered.
Our home has become a household: ‘We are’; we form a body. If it is truly founded upon love, we find that this body is also in fact the Body of Christ, that is to say, it is also the church (at least, a church). Christ said to his church, “you are my body”; “you are the salt of the earth”; “happy are you, if you follow me”. The verb ‘to be’ does not recognize separate existences: there is a murmuring between ‘we’ and ‘you’, a gentle susurration like the waves of an ocean when it reaches its shores.
At the end of life we say to the departed, ‘You’; we speak to them in the plural, because they have joined the plurality of souls in paradise, the communion of saints, those who have entered eternity. Though they no longer exist in the time and space of here and now, nevertheless, ‘They are’. The ‘we’ of our church, of our conversation today, of our circle of friendship and love, of our family, our home – this ‘we’ can be the already-in-being of the reign of Christ on earth, something marvellous which we already glimpse in the best moments of collective life. And it is because of this inkling, that life lived in love among our own is a foretaste of paradise, that we have the confident hope that we too shall one day arrive into the collective of that ‘They are’ of all those who have preceded us beyond death to a life which is happier, more peaceful, more comforting, more fully a place of love and reconciliation – which is the life beyond life promised to those who love God and love one another just as Jesus told us. Christmas is already Easter, wrapped as a gift from an Other who loves us. Come, Lord Jesus - Happy Christmas!
Gavin Brown __________________________________________
MERCY Broadcast 9 December 2012
The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle dew from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. These famous words, given to Portia by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice, mesmerise us with their beauty so that we fail even to consider their meaning. It’s an effort to resist the temptation to drift into a dream. We have to pinch ourselves if we are to stay alert and think about what is actually being said. But when we do, most of us would say that actually, we do have to strain to be merciful. Much easier to react to hurts by judging and condemning. So, what on earth is Shakespeare getting at? Recently, one of those Who do you think you are genealogy programmes featured Patrick Stewart, whose father was abusive towards his elder brother. Making the programme, the actor learned that, as a soldier in the second world war, his father, though not a direct witness of atrocities, did see the result of all kinds of terrible things which marked and changed him. And there was a double whammy. When finally, his father was demobbed and went home to his young wife, he found an interloper in the house – no not another man, a little boy born during his long absence. It was his own son, but to the father he was a stranger, as strange as if he had been someone else’s child. And unable to cope with this rival for his wife’s affection, he took it out on the boy. There were many families who suffered like this. My own father, returned from the war in Africa and Italy, took it out on my elder brother. By adolescence I had grown to hate my father for what he did to those I loved. Later, I prayed for him and tried to forgive him. But, like Patrick Stewart, it was only when I realised what the war had done to my father that finally, I understood. Then, I felt for him. Compassion is mercy. It came naturally. I no longer judged, because there but for the grace of God... We can none of us know all there is to know about another person. But we can try to reach an understanding of what they are and why they have done what they have done. Understanding is half way towards forgiveness and releases our merciful compassion. It is twice blessed because it frees the person forgiven and the person who forgives from those hard feelings that only damage us and take away our joy. The oldest known root of the word, ‘mercy’ is probably the Etruscan word, ‘merc’, - our words ‘commerce’ and ‘merchant’ find their roots in this ancient word. It’s all to do with value given and received, in other words an exchange of some sort. Nowadays, its meaning is debased. It has more to do with greed and money than anything else. But we still find some sense of the original meaning in the French word for ‘thank you’, ‘merci.’ This development of the Etruscan root establishes us in relation to another person, by recognising the value given us by that other and in that recognition is a humble gratitude which, in turn opens the way to an open hearted exchange between the two people, an exchange in which forgiveness and compassion are the norm. So, the use of the word, ‘merci’ puts us in relation to the person we are thanking. Good to think of that when we use it! After all, it’s isn’t just politeness. So, mercy is to do with relationship. To establish a connected relationship we have to reach out, to understand the other person, and when there has been some offence which has broken the relationship, it’s an effort. But in doing it we are stretching across the arms of the crucified, forming a yielding bridge between sin and judgement. That’s the full meaning of the word to intercede, inter-cedere, to yield between, opening the way to compassionate forgiveness and mercy. No, though we strain to reach it, the quality of mercy is not strained. It springs naturally from the compassion that comes with understanding and the resulting peace has all the beauty of Shakespeare’s words, falling like the gentle dew from heaven and healing our relationships with one another. Valerie Brown _____________________________________________ ADVENT - broadcast 25th November 2012
We begin this morning’s programme with the news you did NOT want to hear – “only thirty shopping days to Christmas”, which means that next Sunday will be ADVENT SUNDAY, marking the beginning of the Church Year. If you follow the Bible Readings in the Lectionary, we’ll be starting Year C.
The historical origins of Advent are hard to determine with great precision. In its earliest form, beginning here in France, Advent was a period of preparation for the Feast of the Epiphany, a day when converts were baptized; so the Advent preparation was very similar to Lent with an emphasis on prayer and fasting which lasted three weeks and later was expanded to 40 days. Inspired by the Lenten regulations, the local Council of Macon, France, in 581 designated that from Nov. 11 (the Feast of St. Martin of Tours) until Christmas, fasting would be required on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Eventually, similar practices spread to England. In Rome, the Advent preparation did not appear until the sixth century, and was viewed as a preparation for Christmas with less of a penitential bent.
The Church gradually more formalized the celebration of Advent. The Gelasian Sacramentary, traditionally attributed to Pope St. Gelasius I (d. 496), was the first to provide Advent liturgies for five Sundays. Later, Pope St. Gregory I (d. 604) enhanced these liturgies composing prayers, antiphons, readings, and responses. Pope St. Gregory VII (d. 1095) later reduced the number of Sundays in Advent to four. Finally, about the ninth century, the Church designated the first Sunday of Advent as the beginning of the Church year.
The importance of this season remains to focus on the coming of our Lord. (Advent comes from the Latin adventus, meaning “coming.”) The Catechism stresses the two-fold meaning of this “coming” : “When the Church celebrates the liturgy of Advent each year, she makes present this ancient expectancy of the Messiah, for by sharing in the long preparation for the Saviour’s first coming, the faithful renew their ardent desire for His second coming.”
MUSIC – O come, O come Emmanuel
The word Advent means "coming" or "arrival." The focus of the entire season is the celebration of the birth of Jesus the Christ in his First Advent, and the anticipation of the return of Christ the King in his Second Advent. Thus, Advent is far more than simply marking a 2,000 year old event in history. It is celebrating a truth about God, the revelation of God in Christ whereby all of creation might be reconciled to God. That is a process in which we now participate, and the consummation of which we anticipate. Scripture reading for Advent will reflect this emphasis on the Second Advent, including themes of accountability for faithfulness at His coming, judgment on sin, and the hope of eternal life.
In this double focus on past and future, Advent also symbolizes the spiritual journey of individuals and a congregation, as they affirm that Christ has come, that He is present in the world today, and that He will come again in power. That acknowledgment provides a basis for Kingdom ethics, for holy living arising from a profound sense that we live "between the times" and are called to be faithful stewards of what is entrusted to us as God’s people. So, as the church celebrates God’s inbreaking into history in the Incarnation, and anticipates a future consummation to that history for which "all creation is groaning awaiting its redemption," it also confesses its own responsibility as a people commissioned to "love the Lord your God with all your heart" and to "love your neighbor as yourself."
Advent is marked by a spirit of expectation, of anticipation, of preparation, of longing. There is a yearning for deliverance from the evils of the world, first expressed by Israelite slaves in Egypt as they cried out from their bitter oppression. It is the cry of those who have experienced the tyranny of injustice in a world under the curse of sin, and yet who have hope of deliverance by a God who has heard the cries of oppressed slaves and brought deliverance!
It is that hope, however faint at times, and that God, however distant He sometimes seems, which brings to the world the anticipation of a King who will rule with truth and justice and righteousness over His people and in His creation. It is that hope that once anticipated, and now anticipates anew, the reign of an Anointed One, a Messiah, who will bring peace and justice and righteousness to the world.
Next Sunday the Church Year starts. Which means that today, the Church Year ends. And what an ending, celebrating Christ the King, the Christ who became incarnate, the Christ who died and is risen, the Christ who sits in glory, the Christ who will come again.
David Hawken
MUSIC: “O come, O come, Emmanuel” (Celtic instrumental version) ______________________________________________
Remembrance Day
Broadcast 11 November 2012
Beginning Music: Britten: War Requiem : Agnus Dei- One ever hangs where shelled roads part First Meditation: Millions daily feared news of the death of a soldier close to them. There came the sudden loud clattering at the front-door knocker that always meant a telegram. For a moment I thought that my legs would not carry me, but they behaved quite normally as I got up and went to the door. I knew what was in the telegram – I had known for a week – but because the persistent hopefulness of the human heart refuses to allow intuitive certainty to persuade reason of that which it knows, I opened and read it in a tearing anguish of suspense. “Regret to inform you Captain EH Brittain Killed in action” Falling on my knees before his portrait, the searching eyes were more than I could bear. I began to cry “Edward! Oh, Edward!” in dazed repetition, as though my persistent crying would somehow bring him back. First Poem: Dulce et Decoram est: by Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knocked kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood shod. All went lame, all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. Gas! GAS! Quick boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.- Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams before my helpless sight He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin, If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs Bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. Music: Cloudburst : When David Heard Second poem: Counter Attack: by Seigfried Sassoon. We’d gained our first objective hours before While dawn broke like a face with blinking eyes, Pallid, unshaved and thirsty, blind with smoke. Things seemed all right at first. We held their line, With bombers posted, Lewis guns well placed, And clink of shovels deepening the shallow trench. The place was rotten with dead; green clumsy legs high-booted, sprawled and groveled along saps and trunks, face downward, in the sucking mud, wallowed like trodden sand- bags loosely filled; and naked sodden buttocks, mats of hair, bulged, clotted heads slept in the plastering slime. And the rain began, - the jolly old rain! A yawning soldier knelt against the bank, starting across the morning blear with fog; he wondered when the Allemandes would get busy; and then, of course, they started with five-nines traversing, sure as fate, and never a dud. Mute in the clamour of shells he watched them burst spouting dark earth and wire with gusts from hell, while posturing giants dissolved in drifts of smoke. He crouched and flinched, dizzy with galloping fear, sick for escape, - loathing the strangled horror and butchered, frantic gestures of the dead. An officer came blundering down the trench: “Stand-to and man the fire step!” On he went….. Gasping and bawling, “Fire step… counter attack!” Then the haze lifted. Bombing on the right down the old sap: machine guns on the left; and stumbling figures looming out in front. “O Christ, they’re coming at us!” Bullets spat, and he remembered his rifle… rapid fire… And started blazing wildly… then a bang crumpled and spun him sideways, knocked him out to grunt and wriggle: none heeded him; he choked and fought the flapping veils of smothering gloom, lost in a blurred confusion of yells and groans… Down, and down, and down and down, he sank and drowned, bleeding to death. The counter –attack had failed.
Ending: They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Carolyn Kimber ______________ ________________________________
Seeds
broadcast 28th October 2012
Good morning.
I-SPY with my little eye: something beginning with S. Whilst driving past a field of sunflowers a couple of months ago, I started to wonder just how many seeds the average sunflower head holds. Then, I thought, how many sunflowers are there in a field 100 metres by 200 metres if each is planted half a metre from its neighbours. And then, how many seeds would that make altogether? And then I decided I should stop thinking! As a theologian by original training, my mind went to that fascinating story that Jesus told which is slightly erroneously entitled the Parable of the Sower. Actually, of course, it is about the different types of ground into which seeds are sown – rough pathway, rocky ground with little topsoil, among weeds and fertile land. The story teaches us about the influence that we allow the Divine to have upon our lives. God sows the seed of His word into our hearts and minds – then what happens to it depends on what kind of ground we choose to be. There are those who pretend that God does not exist and therefore can have nothing to say to them – more fool them! Others maybe hear something that attracts them about God but their interest and enthusiasm is temporary. If the message that God sends them demands a bit of work or a bit of effort, then, thank you, it was nice while it lasted but ….. The third group of people I imagine is a very large one. Those for whom God’s word once meant something, had an influence on their daily lives. But, as Jesus so succinctly put it when explaining His parable to the disciples, the message is crowded out by the worries of this life and the lure of wealth. But what of the seed that fell on good soil? Bible commentators and preachers are notoriously quiet about this, almost as if we’re all expected to fall into one of the first three, unsuccessful, categories. But surely the opposite is true. God gives us His word in order that it might grow and bear fruit in our lives. He gives us grace to respond to Him in ways that are right for us as individuals. Think of those delicious Charentais melons with all the seeds you have to scoop out and throw in the bin: if saved, what potential they had! That is the potential of God working in you and me.
There’s a saying “You reap what you sow”. It refers to a verse in the New Testament, in Saint Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The specific quote in the King James Version of the Bible is “whatsoever a man soweth, that he shall also reap.” Farming metaphors obviously worked very well in societies much dependent on agriculture and the idea of “you reap what you sow,” is that people can expect to harvest the fruit of their behaviour, just as farmers expect to harvest the crops that they plant. Therefore, people who go through life “sowing’” kindness and goodness to others, will often be rewarded for their behaviour, if not on earth then in eternal life, and those who sow bitterness may face punishment. Actions have consequences. In eastern religions the idea is called karma, a concept which suggests that beneficial effects are derived from past beneficial actions and harmful effects from past harmful actions, all applied to ourselves, but also having an effect on others. What we do and say certainly affecs us and those around us. And the old maxim about “words spoken cannot be taken back” can just as well apply to actions. Angry, unkind words do not make us actually feel any better – they are designed to hurt, and not only hurt the person to whom they are spoken, but they leave the speaker diminished in spirit, too. And what is more, the feelings of hurt and anger and diminution can then be extended to the next conversation in a kind of domino effect. We reap what we sow but in doing so we make perhaps many others part of that harvest, even though we may not know it.
Fortunately this works for good as well as for evil. Here’s a little poetic offering, albeit somewhat simplistic, but none the worse for that:
They say we reap what we sow, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. “ May the seeds of God’s Spirit grow in your life, and mine, during the days of this coming week; God bless!
David Hawken
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Aggiornamento – Broadcast 14 October 2012
Fifty years ago this week the Second Vatican Council opened in Rome, slightly to the surprise of the Catholic Church and indeed of the world in general. Few would have predicted the impact of this assembly of church dignitaries on the course of religious history. Pope John XXIII was regarded as a kindly, mild-mannered soul who had been chosen by the Cardinals to give as little trouble as possible to the smooth running of the Curia – the inner circle of Vatican bureaucracy who controlled with a firm hand the way the church was run and resisted any attempts at change. The First Council held in the Vatican in the 1870s had hardened attitudes towards science, secular values and the modern world. Moreover it was cut short by outside events before it had fully completed its work. It could indeed be claimed that the second Council was only permitting itself to complete the tasks set out by the first. However the Second Council turned out to be a turning point not only for the Church establishment but for the relationship between the Catholic Church and the world. And the key moment in this process, the fulcrum on which the world could be shifted, proved to be the opening speech by Pope John. This speech which he had written himself without human assistance or supervision – perhaps without consultations of any kind with his officials –contained a single word which suggested that the Church is, after all, a historical institution subject to the same rules of change, decay and renewal, as any other man-made organisation. The word sounded quite innocuous – aggiornamento – bringing up to date. But, as the Pope clearly realised, it spelt doom for those who believed that the Church and its ways were set in stone for all eternity. This was not simply dynamite, not just a seismic slip, not even a shift between tectonic plates: it presented a new paradigm within which to view the Church and its raison d’être. And yet, in conformity with the requirements of all Council decisions, the resulting Constitutions and Decrees flowed smoothly from the decisions of earlier councils, passing the procedural tests of acceptability among the assembled Bishops and Cardinals. And as we know, the pronouncements of the Second Vatican Council were welcomed even more enthusiastically outside the enclosed world of inner circle politics at Rome, by the wider community of the Church around the globe. Vatican II represents a revolution, one which has yet to see its full effect, even after fifty years of ‘reception’ by the different communities which it affects. The reason the word aggiornamento was so performative was that it permitted all sorts of changes to take place without breaking the self-made rules of the old order. This was simply a spring cleaning, or so it appeared. Very swiftly the sessions began by taking up necessary housekeeping, making their first task the reform of the liturgy. Relatively non contentious as a subject, nevertheless this first debate raised significant points of innovation: the language in which the mass was to be celebrated, the possibility of concelebration by several priests where previously each one had performed “his” mass, with his back turned away from the congregation and the whole performance recited in ancient Latin formulae which even the priest himself did not always understand. The permission to use local languages to perform even parts of the mass, to read the Gospel, in English, French or Swahili: – this was an innovation, which soon became a landslide movement all round the globe. And it was only the first of several liberating currents which the Council unleashed. Of course, there was a temptation to use the term aggiornamento to mean catching up with the ways of the world; many were disappointed therefore that there were no changes of policy regarding women priests, political activism, or even contraception. To understand this hesitancy it is worth repeating the whole of the paragraph in which Pope John phrased his reflections on dogmatic truth: “What is needed at the present time is a new enthusiasm, a new joy and serenity of mind in the unreserved acceptance by all of the entire Christian faith, without forfeiting that accuracy and precision in its presentation which characterized the proceedings of the Council of Trent and the First Vatican Council. What is needed, and what everyone imbued with a truly Christian, Catholic and apostolic spirit craves today, is that this doctrine shall be more widely known, more deeply understood, and more penetrating in its effects on men's moral lives. What is needed is that this certain and immutable doctrine, to which the faithful owe obedience, be studied afresh and reformulated in contemporary terms. For this deposit of faith, or truths which are contained in our time-honored teaching is one thing; the manner in which these truths are set forth is something else.” This last was the punch line. Even modified as it was by the Pontiff’s proviso (“set forth with their meaning preserved intact”) it opened the way to change on an unprecedented scale. The floodgates had opened. The church could begin to think for itself again, to get back to basics. No longer was the Bible to be regarded as unquestionably true: it must be studied as an historical document, as the expression of God’s word in a specific context and for a specific audience. No longer were ministers to be seen as a pyramidal hierarchy descending from the Pope at the top to the mere laity at the extreme outer edge; all the baptised were what the baptismal text proclaimed: kings, prophets and priests. The richness of this heritage of Vatican II is only beginning to become apparent. This Council offered no new dogmatic pronouncements, and, as Yves Congar, one of the leading lights of the sessions, complained after the Council had ended, it said nothing new concerning the Holy Spirit; but surely this was the whole point. Dogma and the Holy Spirit are like oil and vinegar – they don’t blend. By keeping the two in suspension, the Council gave fresh life to the mixture, and revived the flagging spirits of a disenchanted people. What was left undefined was the boundary between collective policy and individual conscience. But perhaps this will prove to be the best legacy the Council has left us: a legacy of debate and dialogue, blowing away centuries-old incrustations of false piety, covert superstition, and blind dogmatism. Hooray for Vatican II, even if another fifty years have to pass before it pleases the traditionalists (or indeed the modernists!). Gavin Brown
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MICHAELMAS 30th September 2012
As long as this programme is broadcast on the day I expect, then yesterday was Michaelmas Day, the feast of Saint Michael and his angels, the turning of the seasons. It marks, as one of the quarter days, the official beginning of University and Law Terms. Traditionally it is a time for the settling up of rents and other accounts. Temporary summer workers historically would receive their pay because, by now, the harvest should be, as the hymn-writer puts it “safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin”. It used to be a day for eating the Michaelmas Goose, a goose fattened on the gleanings of the harvested cornfields. The Michaelmas Daisy is the flower which appears just now, said, with its bright flowers, to stave off the darkness of oncoming autumn and winter. There’s a fascinating story that when Satan, the Devil, was kicked out of heaven, he fell to earth and landed in a bramble patch. Ouch! As a result it is said he returns each year to curse and spit on the remaining fruits, so you should never eat blackberries after Michaelmas Day. Talking of the Devil - and we don’t want to say too much about him - according to the book of Revelation, the last book of the Christian Bible, the devil, described in chapter 12 as a dragon, was defeated and cast out of heaven by Michael the Archangel – which brings us back to Michael-mas. According to Christian tradition, Saint Michael has four offices:
As early as the sixth century AD in Rome, the end of September was fixed as a time to venerate Michael and other angels. In England, from the time of Henry the Eighth and his break with Rome, the saints' day reverted back towards folklore to become Harvest thanksgiving. And it is this theme of thanksgiving – to God – that I want to consider for a moment or two now.
When I was a small child, my mother taught me always to say « Thank you for having me » when I had been to someone else’s home. It’s a habit that has stayed with me for 60 years. Many people say “Grace” before a meal, which, of course, is “Thanks” to God. Throughout the Bible, we are required, commanded and exhorted to give thanks to God.
Jesus Himself set us examples of giving thanks. Particularly memorable is the time He fed the 5000 people. He took the boy’s offering of loaves and fishes and He “gave thanks” before breaking and distributing so that all had sufficient. The disciples may well have recalled this later when, at the Last Supper, Jesus broke the bread and gave thanks as he told them that this was His body, an act that, a few days further on, brought recognition of their risen Lord when He shared a meal with two of them in Emmaus on the first Easter evening.
Why and for what do we give thanks to God? - for deliverance from adversity - for temporal and spiritual blessings - for the gift of salvation through Christ - for who He is There is a whole myriad of situations when we should be giving thanks to Jesus, not just Harvest time. We can recognise God’s hand at work, in our lives and the lives of others, and therefore express our gratitude. How ? – psalms, hymns, spiritual songs; prayers of thanksgiving, , intercession for others, acts of kindness towards others
Of course we’re thankful” we say, but we must be careful not just to assume it but to express it.
There’s an old children’s chorus that sums this up perfectly:
Count your blessings, name them one by one, Count your blessings, see what God has done; Count your blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.
AND THE LESSER KNOWN SECOND VERSE
Count your blessings, name them two by two Count your blessings, name them four by four Count your blessings, name them by the score And it will surprise you there are very many more.
And then say “Thank You” to God. At Michaelmas, at Harvest, and every day.
David Hawken
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OLD AGE Broadcast 16/09/12
The reality of all the talk about the aging population has come home to me lately and in no uncertain terms. At 66 years old, and already feeling the need of a bit of tender loving care myself, I find myself sharing the care of my blind, deaf, demented 94 year old mother with my brother. Added to the unbelievable emotional pain, the stress and sheer exhaustion of the 24 hour, 7 day a week care Mum now needs, the job of clearing a backlog of papers going back to 1929, and of all the accumulated debris of a life has also fallen to me, and it’s an education. Mum was always fit and active, a very independent person. She’d never been ill in her life. But her sight started going when she was 72, the age at which, as she herself put it, things started leaving her. Her two dancing partners died. (She used to go dancing twice a week). Then due to worsening sight, she had to stop playing bowls. Then she had to give up driving and sell her car. Then her rambling partner also died. Her world was closing in. But she kept on gardening, going to a local club and taking holidays, till at 89 she was diagnosed with non Hodgkins lymphoma, which left her permanently tired, weak, and a thrombosis to an eye took away what little sight she had left. The shock of such a sudden and total loss of independence was too much for her brain, which had already shown signs of giving way. Her personality fractured into several different characters, one of them a manipulative, naughty but very sweet little girl - quite a privilege to mother your own mother, seeing her as she was at five years old. Her memory went and the fracturing spread to places and to the people around her. My brother became multiple young men and I a whole posse of ‘women’, the ‘woman who makes the tea’ being the most popular! Never good with time, now time was flexible or stood still. Mostly she was living in the present moment, unable to follow the storyline of a soap opera, in a world where everything, whether pleasant or disappointing was forever new. It has its funny side. Mum has a friend who never stops talking and continually repeats herself. She drives me crazy. But Mum makes the perfect listener, because every repetition is new and greeted each time with a fresh response. It’s hell for the bystander, but it works for them.
For me Mum’s decline has been and is a steep learning curve. The ‘long goodbye’ is an agonisingly slow letting go, with its own periods of mourning. Going through papers, photos, and all the other ‘stuff’ that fills Mum’s house is tedious and exhausting but sometimes it presents me with extraordinary moments; like the discovery of a family archive of the second world war, letters home from dad - I couldn’t recognise the person he used to be, ration books, demob papers, everything. I held onto that, for the moment. But it too will have to go to a museum one of these days. I know I have to let go of Mum, of my childhood, of my family, even of a home rooted in the UK, leaving me feeling somehow adrift in a foreign land. But the imperative to clear out, to simplify and let go, painful as it is, is not only necessary but a good thing. Recently, it was real serendipity, I came again on a book called Old Age, It’s by Helen M Luke and it has a subtitle, Journey into Simplicity*. In the foreword, Barbara Mowat is enlightening. She writes of the choice which eventually confronts us all, It ‘may be painful, requiring (should we choose to ... grow old, instead of merely sinking into the aging process) that we let go of much that has been central even to our inner lives.’ The choice, as Helen Luke says is ‘whether we will let go of everything else so that a new man who is the creation of Mercy will be born, or whether we will hold onto the old man’. Are we going to be tempted towards a repetition of our life’s triumphs, or drawn to the journey of the soul, ‘turning away from accustomed efforts to new, significant perhaps painful soul journeys to plant oars in desert lands and to offer our past strengths and triumphs ...’ The desperate effort to hold onto the past, ‘to arrest the flow of the river of life as it approaches the ocean of eternity’ as she puts it, leads to a negative decline, into corruption and decay, disintegration and despair. But for those who embrace the unwelcome gifts reserved for old age, ‘loss of energy and enchantment, helpless rage at the folly of mankind, the suffering hidden in our memories’, our old age leads us through the flame to other side of the letting go, where we find freedom, mercy and laughter. As Helen Luke writes, ‘The ‘pattern of the glory’ ... is not as we have perhaps imagined, an apex of achievement, even in the inner world of the soul and spirit. Rather is it known in the agonies and dangers of a gradual letting go, through which alone the emptiness comes, into which the glory may enter.’ We will need the courage of an Odysseus and the wisdom of a Prospero to set out on this last adventure, but it leads us where we have been heading ever since we were born, back into the arms of God. *Old Age. Journey into Simplicity by Helen M. Luke. Parabola Books, NY 1987. Valerie Brown
Some useful links for English-speaking visitors to this site :
<http://www.poitiers-catholique.fr/page-daccueil/in-english> (Catholic Diocese of Poitiers, English welcome page, serving Vienne and Deux Sèvres, including other links)
<http://church-in-france.com/> (Anglican Chaplaincy of Christ the Good Shepherd, serving Poitou-Charentes area)
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