All your works shall give thanks

As I sit here with the wind-driven rain beating on the windows, it seems that the prolonged period of hot and dry weather that we have had this summer has drawn to a close. The news bulletins indicate that there is travel disruption as a result of thunder storms and flash flooding, a far cry from melting tarmac only yesterday morning in some parts of the UK.

Without doubt, the advance of science, technology and medicine has allowed humankind to achieve wonderful things. As a species we have learnt to exercise control over many aspects of our lives, our health, our food, how we live and how we use our leisure time. It may be possible to forecast the weather to a greater or lesser extent, but we cannot control it. It may be possible to treat many diseases, but that neither means that they have been eliminated, nor that the outcome of treatment is certain. We may be able to cultivate the land and raise a variety of domestic animals, but as any farmer with tell you, the degree of success is rather variable no matter how much effort they put in.

All of this serves to remind us, that whatever illusions we might have in the twenty-first century of being in control of everything, we are in fact in control of relatively little and have to live our lives according to conditions which are not of our making. Everything around us speaks of the power beyond us that we as Christian’s refer to as God. As the psalmist says in Psalm 145:

All your works shall give thanks to you, O Lord,
and all your faithful shall bless you.
They shall speak of the glory of your kingdom,
and tell of your power,
to make known to all people your mighty deeds,
and the glorious splendour of your kingdom.

During Lairg Gala Week, there is a Flower Festival in Lairg Parish Church, with wonderful arrangements produced by many groups and individuals in the area. On the Sunday evening there is a Songs of Praise to give thanks to God for his goodness to us. At last Sunday’s service, the reading was from Psalm 104, which contains these words:

You make springs gush forth in the valleys;
they flow between the hills,
giving drink to every wild animal;
the wild asses quench their thirst.
By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation;
they sing among the branches.
From your lofty abode you water the mountains;
the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.
You cause the grass to grow for the cattle,
and plants for people to use,
to bring forth food from the earth,
and wine to gladden the human heart,
oil to make the face shine,
and bread to strengthen the human heart.

We may talk about the weather, we may forecast the weather, but ultimately we do not control the weather, even if by our collective actions, we may have significant impact on the climate of our world.

Stewards of the Earth

Crown of the Anglican Cathedral in Cairo

Lovely summer weather, the like of which we haven’t seen for a year or two and initially the garden appreciated the long hours of sunshine and, once the cold winds had subsided, the warmth. As the dry spell continues, the lack of water is proving a bit of a challenge for some of the plants and there is no sign of rain in the five-day forecast, though I’m sure that when the weather does break, we may soon forget what a glorious early summer we’ve had. But of course its not only the garden that may struggle in the heat. Often older people find hot weather very difficult and in many parts of the country, the pollen count is also high, leading to an increase in the number of people suffering what is officially called “seasonal allergic rhinitis” or pollen allergy. For sufferers, weather like this can be very miserable indeed.

After the very wet winter, the availability of water is such that, as yet, there hasn’t been much talk of hosepipe bans. That’s no reason not to be careful in our use of water. Over a decade ago, I did some teaching in Upper Egypt and flew south from Cairo several times and was very aware that without the irrigation water that the Nile provided, there was simply no life.

Having spent quite a lot of time over the past few months helping to sort out and find suitable recipients of my parents possessions, I have become acutely aware of the waste of resources involved in sending things to skips and landfill. My sister and I have become very well acquainted with the whole range of charity shops in the area around the Cheshire/Shropshire border and St Finnbarr’s Charity Shop in Dornoch has also been a beneficiary. I’m sure that my parents would have been much happier that their possessions found new homes and uses than that they simply ending up in a big hole in the ground.

I am reviewing a book for a church newspaper at the moment called “Blue Planet, Blue God”, which looks at our relationship with our planet and its resources through the lens of the Bible and it is very interesting to see what the Bible does say about the wise use of the resources that God has provided for His people. Jesus uses parables to talk about these things. In these he refers to ‘stewards’. What is a steward? A steward is someone who manages the household or property that belongs to another. As God’s people that is the status that we have in relation to our planet and all that is in it. We are stewards because God is the owner of all things. In the 1982 Liturgy, the words at the Offertory include these words from 1 Chronicles:

Yours, Lord, is the greatness, the power, the glory,
the splendour, and the majesty; for everything in
heaven and on earth is yours.
All things come from you, and of your own we give you.

As we manage the things that we think of as ours, including the water that comes out of our taps, the challenge for us as stewards is to be prepared to give account to our Master, who will come and assess how we have stewarded what He has given us in trust. Some of Jesus’ parables give stark warning of the consequences of being poor stewards.


Kindled with the Fire

Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.

Strong words from a writer who I turn to from time to time, to challenge me, Annie Dillard, written in a book called ‘Teaching a Stone to Talk’. Annie clearly sees the potential for encounter with God as very powerful, to be taken seriously and not to be trifled with. Perhaps we don’t explicitly talk enough about the power of the Holy Spirit or the Holy Spirit more generally, except perhaps passingly at Pentecost. God the Father seems straight-forward enough and God the Son we read about in the the real-life stories of the Gospels week by week, but God the Holy Spirit?

I don’t know about you, but there are times when the prospect of coming to church doesn’t always fill me with the Holy Joy that perhaps it should do. But you know once we get down to the serious business of invoking the name of what Annie calls the “Sleeping God”, something happens. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it happens. I don’t know quite when it occurs, but it happens. I don’t know precisely what causes it, but it happens. The assembled company become the body of Christ, infused with the Holy Spirit, that “fills our hearts with love”.

One of the joys of the Scottish Episcopal tradition is that in our Eucharistic Liturgies we have an explicit Epiclesis. That is the part of the Eucharistic prayer in which the presence of the Holy Spirit is invoked to bless the elements or the communicants or wonderfully in our case, both. In most of our Eucharistic Prayers it goes like this:

Hear us, most merciful Father,
and send your Holy Spirit upon us
and upon this bread and this wine,
that, overshadowed by his life-giving power,
they may be the Body and Blood of your Son,
and we may be kindled with the fire of your love
and renewed for the service of your Kingdom.

“and we may be kindled with the fire of your love”, I just love that bit, it sends a tingle down my spine every time. We’re asking for the Holy Spirit to descend on our community of faith, to bless us, to change us and to elevate us beyond all our human weakness, our human failings and our human imaginings.

At Pentecost and every Sunday the Spirit descends, not on us as isolated individuals all with our own likes, dislikes and foibles, but on on our assembly, to raise us to something more divine and just a little less human. The result is an ever deeper common life; united in prayer, united in the breaking of bread, united in action in the world, united in love. As Disciples of Christ we share at least some of our lives, some of our resources and some of our talents for the benefit of others.

Common life in the early church was built across the boundaries of gender, of ethnicity and of social class. It subverted the values and hierarchies of the Roman Empire and by the power of the Spirit, that life is to be taken to every corner of the earth. That subversion is what we should be about – filled with the Spirit.

As Paul says in his letter to the Romans: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.


Travelling in the Resurrection

Since Easter I’ve been away quite a bit. I’ve travelled to Shropshire and back – maybe some 24 hours of travelling by bus, train and car. One of the things I like about travelling by public transport is that you meet a whole selection of people that you would be unlikely to meet under any other circumstances. These people all have their stories to tell and when travelling many share some small portion of their lives with the stranger sitting in the seat opposite. In my experience the likelihood of this increases when the train or bus is delayed, cancelled or suffers some other adversity. My travels were not without incident.

Maybe this willingness to talk is simply a way to pass the time whilst the situation is remedied, or maybe it’s because the immediate adversity makes people more acutely aware of the difficulties that they or their loved ones are facing, and the disrupted travel makes a real connection with disruptions in other parts of their lives.

We’re travelling through the Easter season, after the disruption and adversity of Holy Week, a week which for me had added resonance this year in the aftermath of my Father’s funeral. Easter, I don’t mind admitting, was quite literally a blessèd relief. Easter is here. Alleluia Christ is Risen. He is Risen Indeed Alleluia.

In Luke’s Gospel, we hear about groups of disciples who meet Jesus under a variety of circumstances. In each case, although they’ve encountered the Risen Jesus, they’ve failed to recognise Him (at least initially). On Easter Day we heard about Mary in the Garden, who mistakes Him for the gardener and only recognises Him when he calls her by name. Recognising Jesus requires more than just seeing Him. Hearing about Him isn’t enough either, we need faith as well – think of Thomas who we have also heard about recently. In Luke’s Gospel there’s also the story about two Disciples who meet Jesus on the road to Emmaus and talk with Him as He explains the Scriptures to them whilst walking along. The calling by name, the breaking of bread or the invitation to touch Him – these are when it clicks and we actually realise we are in His presence, as Thomas does when he famously says “My Lord and my God”.

In our Resurrection journey, the point is that Jesus is really real and truly alive! How is Jesus really real and truly alive in our world today? How do our eyes need to be opened to perceive Jesus? How do our ears need to be unstopped to hear His voice? Where do we touch the hands and feet of our Lord? If the Resurrection is to mean anything to me it has to mean something every hour of the day, every day of the week and every week of the year. It isn’t just an Easter thing or a Sunday thing, we are after all an Easter People. How does the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus help us to make sense of what is happening in our lives just now? How does the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus help us bring comfort and healing to the people of a world which with each passing day seems to be getting itself into a bigger and bigger mess?

At the centre of our Eucharistic Prayer we find Paul’s account to the Corinthians about the last supper. In that account what we perhaps hear is: “Jesus took bread and said: this is my body that is for you”. But is he not saying “If you are looking for my body, this is it” Jesus is saying if you are looking for my body, don’t go looking for it in the tomb, don’t look up to heaven for it, you don’t have to look anywhere but amongst yourselves. In any meal shared in friendship, in any act of hospitality, in any act of walking with others (feeding the hungry, visiting the imprisoned or the sick or the lonely, housing the homeless, celebrating with friends), it’s in all these things that we are in the presence of Christ.

It’s sitting on a train that isn’t going anywhere, it’s sitting in a hospital anxiously awaiting news, it’s in all those everyday encounters, as we travel through life, where stories are told and people share their innermost fears with a fellow human being, that we’re walking with our Risen Lord; Travelling in the Resurrection.


Christ is Risen. He is Risen Indeed – Alleluia!!

Just three days ago, the situation seemed hopeless, all that signified normality was suddenly turned upside down. The one on whom we relied had been take away and the future seemed pretty bleak. And then suddenly against all expectation, what might have seemed impossible has happened. The seemingly hopeless situation has been redeemed in a way that defies comprehension, that casts the world and life and death in a new light.

Of course I might be speaking from the perspective of the disciples of Jesus; as they recall what happened from Judas’s kiss in the Garden of Gethsemane on a Thursday night a couple of millennia ago, until the women arrived at Jesus’ tomb early on Easter morning and found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. Then one by one the followers of Jesus came face to face with the reality of the power of God and of the Glorious Resurrection of His Son.

On the other hand, I might be speaking of things that have happened in my life in these last days or maybe things that have happened in yours. What the rocky journey of the last wee while has underlined for me again and again, is if I am prepared to trust in God and stop thinking that I should or could control my life or resolve every difficulty on my own, then against all expectation, what might have seemed impossible can happen. Seemingly hopeless situations have been redeemed in ways that defies comprehension, that cast the world and life and death in a new light. Of course that is not to say that what has happened is what I might have asked for or imagined, but then as Paul wrote to the Ephesians:

I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever. Amen.

A joyous and peaceful Easter to you all and may you trust in God to make the unimagined a reality in your lives.


Judge Softly

On my way to and from Lairg early on Sunday morning, there were two items on the radio that particularly caught my attention and as the day went by I started to see connections between them.

The first was in the Sunday Service on Radio Scotland, when the preacher said “Jesus leaves His Father in Heaven to come to a world where He’s not welcome, where He’s not received. He experiences alienation and rejection. His earthly family misunderstand and reject Him. His enemies pursue Him. Jesus has no home, no pillow of His own to rest His head on. And in the end He’s dragged through a rigged trial, condemned to death even though He’s innocent and then crucified.

The second was in the review of the papers, when the news that Brendan Cox, husband of murdered MP Jo Cox, had stepped down from the two charities that were set up in her name as a result of a number of earlier allegations of inappropriate behaviour towards women. In his statement, Mr Cox said: “I do acknowledge and understand that during my time at Save the Children I made mistakes and behaved in a way that caused some women hurt and offence, this was never malicious, but it was certainly inappropriate. In the past I have focused on disputing what I felt was untrue in the allegations, but I realise now that it’s more important to take full responsibility for what I have done.” He also said he was committed to holding himself to “much higher standards of personal conduct” in the future.

On the face of it they don’t appear to have much in common, so where is the connection? For me it’s in the two sections in bold type. As I listened to the first piece, I became increasingly uneasy, because I felt that that what was being said was a gross simplification, it was casting the whole thing in terms of goodies and baddies in much the way that the old Westerns did (except in this case the goodies didn’t wear white hats and the baddies black!) From the perspective of Pilate, he had a responsibility to keep peace in his corner of the Roman Empire and woe-betide him if riots had broken out on his watch. Caiaphas, for all his faults, was committed to preserving the Jewish way of life, not rubbing the occupying force up the wrong way and having Jewish freedoms curtailed. Yes both played fast and loose with the facts to preserve what they believed in and, broadly speaking, they were dealing with a dissident who was bent on upsetting the status quo. They were however far less brazen about it than the leader of a country three and a half thousand miles to our west today. The point is that there are different points of view and the ‘Kingdom of Pilate’ and the ‘Kingdom of Caiaphas’ are radically different than the ‘Kingdom of God’. I don’t believe either man to be wholly bad without any redeeming features; but they did understood the situation very differently to the message of Good News that Jesus was preaching.

Now to Mr Cox. In any interaction between two people, there are (at least) two understandings of what has happened. In the past, he has concentrated on the aspects of the testimony of his accusers that he believed to be wrong, in order to maintain his innocence. So what has changed? Mr Cox in reflecting perhaps on the legacy of his late wife, has switch his focus from his feelings to those of his accusers. He may well not understand why they are so upset and hurt by his past behaviour towards them, but he now accepts the plain fact that they are hurt and upset by what he did. He has now realised that his understanding is different to theirs and is prepared to acknowledge that publically. What he has done might: help to bring some healing to those that he has hurt, allow the charities set up in his late wife’s name to move forward without a shadow hanging over them and help him to become the better person he would like to be. What Mr Cox has done is what the Prayer Book means when it says “Remission of all your sins, true repentance, amendment of life”.

It is just so easy to see things from one point of view and as black and white. This Lent as we reflect on how we live our lives we might do worse that consider this short extract from a poem written in 1895 by Mary T. Lathrap called Judge Softly (often mistakenly attributed to to various indian tribes):

Just walk a mile in his moccasins
Before you abuse, criticize and accuse.
If just for one hour, you could find a way
To see through his eyes, instead of your own muse.
I believe you’d be surprised to see
That you’ve been blind and narrow minded, even unkind.


Walking Together

A number of things have happened recently which have caused me to reflect on community and what it means. Hitherto, I have tended to think of community as something relatively fixed, with a slow rate of change, but … Consider what happens when something unexpected or life-changing happens. Suppose someone is rushed to hospital or dies unexpectedly; in both cases a spontaneous community forms. A community that involves family and friends who although they already have relationships with each other, gather in support of those directly affected and each other. But there is more to it than that.

A member of my family was rushed to hospital on New Years day and as members of his family we gathered, both physically and virtually, to support him and each other in the changed circumstances of his life. As a result I spent last week visiting the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital each day for a few hours; and what struck me, was not just the community around each bed, but the community of friends and relatives of all those in the ward. People who hitherto didn’t know each other, but who took the time to care for each other, a community of the concerned relatives and friends who were brought together spontaneously by what had happened to their nearest and dearest. It doesn’t stop there. This gathered community extended to all those in the care teams at the hospital, who took the time to care for the relatives and friends as well as those in the beds. We all interacted in many and varied ways, pooling our knowledge and resources. It wasn’t organised, there was no-one leading it, a collection of one-to-one ministries — people being there for one another, walking together.

When anything unexpected happens it can be very difficult to deal with, but when someone who is close to you dies unexpectedly, it is particularly challenging. At times like that, having a community of family, friends and possibly even strangers, gather to provide mutual support is a particular blessing. No-one can fully understand what someone who is bereaved is going through. Bereavement is different for everybody involved each time it occurs, but a community of unconditional mutual support is hugely important, even if that support is more about providing space for grieving than anything else; providing a ministry of presence — people being there for one another, walking together .

Being there for one another, walking together – that for me sums up both community and ministry. The ministry to which we are all called by virtue of being followers of Christ. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians: “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ.” (Gal 6:2) However if you want a longer version, then you can do no better than to turn my favourite spiritual writer, Henri Nouwen, who wrote in 1983:

More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire might be to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.” (from: Gracias! a Latin American Journal by Henri Nouwen)

Now you don’t need any special training to do that, being human is more than enough.



He’s got the Whole World in His Hand

I love the season of Advent crowned as it is by the Christmas Eve/Day services, but as Advent proceeds more and more busyness intrudes into the sense of preparation, anticipation and prayerful reflection. For me therefore, the really special time, is the time between Boxing Day and the third of January. It’s a time when many businesses are closed and the world slows down just a little. A time of preparation for the New Year and a time to pause before the routine normality of life reasserts itself in January.

It doesn’t always work out quite as described, but even when there are perturbations, I still find it a time when there is space for reflection and prayer. For us this year, having the car break down on 28th December helped immensely, because there was simply no temptation to go anywhere or do any of the things that require a car if you live in a rural area. For many years we have gone for a long walk as early as we can manage on New Year’s day and this year was no exception. Lack of a car meant that we could only do a walk that started and ended at home.

So it was off up a rather slippery Achue road, across the moors to the summit of Cnoc Dubh Beag (the small hillock), then wading through the snowy landscape up to the trig point at the top of Creag a’ Bhealaich (crag of the pass) – of which there are several in Scotland, ours being the smallest. The sun was shining, it was very frosty and the air was fresh and clear. On the tops the views were stunning, though there were clouds gathering in the west. A reminder if ever we need it, that we do live in a most beautiful part of the world.

In spite of the feeling of elation, which can be almost overwhelming at such times, the bright sun, the freshness and the beauty cannot hide the fact that in many parts of that landscape people are suffering. In communities and families, as well as the holiday joy and gladness, there is worry, there is sickness, there is grief and there is sadness. Everyday life contains all of these things, and believing that the “Word became flesh and dwelt among us” doesn’t remove them, but what it does is to provide the possibility of hope. God is there in those communities and in those families, He’s there to be found, but sometimes it’s difficult to see it, to sense it and to feel the benefit of it.

We all have our part to play in helping those in our families and communities who are having a tough time to sense the love of God. And to be able to trust in the Christian hope comes from knowing that God comes to us in our hour of need, leads us into his all-encompassing love, acts in our lives and arranges for our salvation. Perhaps this might just offer a ray of sunlight to those who found that 2017 didn’t end the way that they would have liked it to and hope that in 2018, whilst the old normal can never be restored, a new normal is possible in which love, trust and peace will conquer all.

There’s a Gaelic carol which includes these verses:

’Nuair dh’èirich grian na fìreantachd,
Le gathan dìleas blath;
Bu mhòr a bha de dh’fheum oirre,
Bu dèisneach cor gach àit.
When rose that sun of Righteousness,
With rays so warm and true;
Greatly had we need of them,
As woe in each place grew.
Fo dheàrrsadh grian na fìreantachd,
‘S a chridh bidh sith a’ fàs;
Gu’n toir i ’reothadh millteach às,
‘S gu’n lion i e le blàths.
Beneath that Sun of Righteousness,
God’s warmth and peace will grow;
It drives away the spoiling frost,
And makes the heart to glow.

John Maclean – the Tiree Bard

Blessings and Peace to you this New Year

Encourage one another and build up each other

As always, this month’s gathering at the Crask was relaxed, deeply spiritual and most enjoyable; not least because we marked the feast of St Margaret of Scotland who should be seen as such a splendid example to us all. During the course of our post-Gospel discussion, one of our number told a story that she first heard as a schoolgirl from Mother Theresa of Calcutta. This story can be found in many world cultures, Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Hindu, Buddhist, Oriental, Chinese and more.

One version of what is called the Parable of the long chopsticks or Allegory of the long spoons goes like this:

A curious man once asked to visit heaven and hell. Expecting hell to be a terrible, frightening place, he was amazed to find people seated around a lovely banquet table. The table was piled high with every delicious thing one could possibly want. The man thought, Perhaps hell isn’t so bad after all.

Looking closely, however, he noticed that everyone at the table was miserable and thin.

They were starving, because, although there was a mountain of food before them, they had been given six-foot-long chopsticks with which they had to eat. There was no way to carry the food to their mouths with such long chopsticks, and so no one could eat a bite.

The man was then taken to heaven. To his surprise, he found the situation was exactly the same as he had seen in hell. People were gathered around a banquet table piled with food. Everyone held a pair of six-foot-long chopsticks in their hands. But here in heaven, they were well fed with everyone happily eating the delicious food. He asked what was different. The difference: in heaven they were using their extra-long chopsticks to feed one another rather than trying to feed themselves.

As Christians, we are part of a community of faith. In fact Christianity is a faith of relationship, focussed on the community and not on the individual. This is very clearly expressed in the writing of the Apostle Paul and is a constant theme in Jesus’s teaching. It can also come as quite a shock to many people in our society, where spirituality is increasingly seen as purely about an individual’s relationship with God, and nothing to do with anyone else. Without the corrective of the community of faith, it’s however so easy to build God in one’s own image – the most common form of idolatry.

In our life as Christians, there are many pitfalls that we might fall into. There are the clearly recognisable sins: murder, adultery, stealing, bearing false witness, but these are fairly easy to deal with, in that you probably know when you’re committing them. The more insidious ones are the ones that come disguised as virtue, these might be described as sins of the spirit.

As Eugene Peterson wrote “It is in our virtuous behaviour that we are liable to the gravest of sins. It is while we are being good that we have the chance to be really bad. It is in the context of being responsible, being obedient, that we most easily substitute our wills for God’s will, because it is so easy to suppose that they are identical.” It is in the course of being faithful Christians that we’re most likely to fall victim to pride, arrogance or insensitivity to what Jesus called “the least of these my brethren”. Ironically, it is those of us in positions of leadership, trust or responsibility that are often most at risk. In all the things that make up Church life, it’s so easy to lose sight of what is at the core of being a Christian – the business of loving God and loving our neighbour, no matter who that neighbour many be.

Even within our congregations or the wider Christian community, individual Christians can’t manage on their own, nor should they try. We’re all responsible to one another for encouragement and support in faith, love, and hope. Others need our support in being Christian, and we need theirs. This Advent, as we prepare to welcome the incarnation of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, coming into the world as a tiny, vulnerable baby, it would perhaps do each of us good to reflect on what it means to be a Christian in our congregations and in our wider community, wherever in this beautiful part of the world we might live. The hope that overcomes the uncertainty and anxiety about the future, that few if any of us are immune from, is fostered by encouraging each other in our faith and in the way we live our lives.

As a final thought, it’s no accident that the writers of our liturgies (both those in the Scottish Prayer Book and more recently) finish with a benediction: “And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (or Ghost), be amongst you (not upon you) and remain with you (plural) always.”

To you the community of faith in the North-Eastern Highlands:


No God or Know God?

No God, No Peace.
Know God, Know Peace.

That’s what the sign outside the Church in the outskirts of Harrogate said. You know how these things are, you turn it over and over in your mind trying to decide whether it is rather trite, sacrificing truth to fit a formula or rather clever with considerable truth about it. In this instance, I’ll leave final arbitration on that to each of you, as you ponder it. I want to move on to what was on the box later the same evening.

In the first programme that I caught a brief ‘slice’ of, Sue Perkins was in India, travelling to the source of the Ganges in search of spiritual enlightenment and yes, Peace. In the segment that I saw, s he talked with a number of people, but always there was a slightly flippant commentary, which was more Sue Perkins the comedienne, than Sue Perkins the seeker after the Spirit. She was bewailing the ‘fact’ that she had to travel 5000 miles to the source of the Ganges, to find peace in the orbit of the God – Mother Ganga. Apparently such peace is not available to those of us who live in the Western World, because of the noise, the bustle and the connectedness. I did pause to wonder if Sue had ever been to Caithness, Sutherland or Ross-shire, but then of course it also begs the question “What is Peace?.

In a rare glimpse of the Sue that lies behind the comedic front, it emerged that she had lost her father about six months previously and had kept herself very busy, quite explicitly to avoid having to deal with her grief at the loss and the empty space that his death had left. Sadly death has become very much a taboo subject for many in Western Society and there are consequently many people who feel uncomfortable talking about it and dealing positively with the loss of someone close and who do exactly what Sue did, hide from it in business. Her comment when communing with Mother Ganga “I’m not a religious person, but I do have a sort of spiritual sense here.” is probably representative of the thinking of many on this subject. I wonder how we as the Christian communities in this part of the world might help people to come to a better understanding of what religious and spiritual practice might do to help them. Recently, I read an obituary of Monsignor Augustine Hoey who, as an Anglican Priest in deprived parts of England, opened the doors of his dimly lit church to local people, where he had placed an open coffin with a mirror in the bottom of it. He invited them to look into the coffin to see who was inside. They were astonished to see themselves and he said: “One day this will be you.”, then after a dramatic pause: “Are you ready?” and after another pause: “Come to confession.” It apparently had a positive effect, though I am not sure that emulating the good Monsignor would work in all of our communities.

The second programme that I caught a snatch of was ‘Bad Habits, Holy Orders’ in which five 19-25 year old, hard living, hard drinking, hard spending, hard partying girls, had somehow agreed to spend a month in a convent in Norfolk, with just £25 for pocket money, no booze and chapel several time a day. The snatch that I saw was the first of four weekly instalments on Channel 5 on Thursdays at 10pm. The newspaper reviewer that I read on Friday was horrified: “How did a show about naughty nuns end up so dull? It’s almost inconceivable how a premise such as ‘Bad Habits, Holy Orders’ could result in TV duller than a four hour sermon, but somehow Channel 5 managed and achieved the seemingly impossible, which is itself a minor miracle.

For me that’s the point. The miracle is that the elderly members of the Daughters of Divine Mercy, even though they espouse pretty much the opposite values of a lingerie model, an exotic dancer, a nightclub hostess, a clubbing addict and a secretary, simply by the lives that they lead are serving as agents of God’s Grace to five very lost souls. By the time I switched off, one of the girls had said to her diarycam: “I’m not sure if I’ve got the wrong reaction, but I feel like I could make myself at home in this bedroom. Its very calming and very relaxing.” and two had used some of their ‘pocket money’ to buy small gifts for nuns, from a local charity shop. And in all of this none of them had to travel 5000 miles to the source of the Ganges as part of their spiritual journey of transformation, how cool is that?

Finally back to peace and knowledge: May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep you hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of His Son Jesus Christ.

Blessings to you all