tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10080437050753187772024-03-18T16:20:23.478+00:00Hallowed ChaosLearning on the job as a wife, mother, and priest and discovering God in the chaos of entwined vocationsSheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-6571791294851201402024-03-18T16:18:00.000+00:002024-03-18T16:18:24.490+00:00Sabbatical Soundings Part 5 - out of time<p> I realise that I hadn't recorded anything here of a significant week at the start of my Sabbatical. I joined with 23 other clergy for a consultation at <a href="https://www.stgeorgeshouse.org/programme-5/clergy-consultations/" target="_blank">St George's House, Windsor.</a></p><p>Here we are on the steps of St George's Chapel.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjij71_vk5NaXuu_KlpfkuXuN7v7bdNYxEkGAvFuRgSL2XlqFkzjczNJRFjPG6jyfowDMfsaGEvgwKtZI9y9MgjE27Kc-GUu-OvJuaPpqSg8MNf7kTwlS_yqq2Hv3vS-tiQm4mDw66Ij5Cw__Xf5UGua5D_yRgbRbvHe57CaEgKfA9kkFH96HD-jx30NjE/s3311/Nurturing%20our%20Growth%20January%20Clergy%20Consultation%202024%20(002).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2217" data-original-width="3311" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjij71_vk5NaXuu_KlpfkuXuN7v7bdNYxEkGAvFuRgSL2XlqFkzjczNJRFjPG6jyfowDMfsaGEvgwKtZI9y9MgjE27Kc-GUu-OvJuaPpqSg8MNf7kTwlS_yqq2Hv3vS-tiQm4mDw66Ij5Cw__Xf5UGua5D_yRgbRbvHe57CaEgKfA9kkFH96HD-jx30NjE/w436-h292/Nurturing%20our%20Growth%20January%20Clergy%20Consultation%202024%20(002).png" width="436" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>It was a remarkable experience for all kinds of reasons but we met deeply with God in and through one another and also by virtue of our remarkable surroundings.</p><p>At our introductory session, the facilitators joked that they hoped to create a safe space for exploring personal growth, but that this safe space was also guarded by police with automatic weapons and very smart-looking soldiers in bearskin hats. In that sense, we were pretty safe in there.</p><p>We had privileged access to the Chapel, open to us before and after the castle was open to the public. It's a beautiful space and the sense of history verges on the absurd. At Morning Prayer one day, the President remarked that this was the day the Church remembered Charles, King and Martyr, "who is of course buried just behind me" (Alongside Henry VIII and Jane Seymour which is itself another story)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vi9fF03bSrt6V25Bapizf49D-qCiCsNyzmZGeuM7p4aPaiD_mzBF5Qxl8Ad7GRY4grJL4mV_n4UKJH9mr1kG6cMLHAuoMFbUZ5BBC_FaY0_iApP-26lkUaJZx1gV1EGIX45d32mL8FQf1RNs2WDf0HHdx-WndfEEyKWVBIDZ9CRu70JycPwHbPC6v9o/s4096/IMG_20240201_140117972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vi9fF03bSrt6V25Bapizf49D-qCiCsNyzmZGeuM7p4aPaiD_mzBF5Qxl8Ad7GRY4grJL4mV_n4UKJH9mr1kG6cMLHAuoMFbUZ5BBC_FaY0_iApP-26lkUaJZx1gV1EGIX45d32mL8FQf1RNs2WDf0HHdx-WndfEEyKWVBIDZ9CRu70JycPwHbPC6v9o/s320/IMG_20240201_140117972.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>11 monarchs are buried in the Chapel, including of course Her late Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II and the late Duke of Edinburgh. Few of us who saw it will forget Prince Philip's funeral in April 2021 with the late Queen in a face mask, sitting on her own with only 30 people allowed to attend. There is something very moving about spending time at their graves, and it turns out that Windsor Castle had its own version of <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-63067578">The Queue</a> when it reopened following the Queen's funeral as thousands of people wanted to visit her final resting place. Interestingly, most visitors to the Castle now also visit St George's Chapel whereas before the late Queen's death, only about 50% of visitors did so.<p></p><p>There is therefor a sense of history and stability that is inescapable in that place. It's in a place like Windsor that it is brought home to us that we are all part of something much bigger and many things will outlast us.</p><p>But it is also a place where the relationship between Church and State is very visible. The whole purpose of St George's is to pray for the monarch and the <a href="https://www.royal.uk/the-order-of-the-garter" target="_blank">Order of the Garter</a>, who are the monarch's closest companions. There are banners and crests for each of the Knights of the Garter - many former Prime Ministers, foreign royalty and members of the Royal Family. Earthly power and wealth are very much in evidence, and I couldn't help wondering what the vulnerable, utterly powerless infant Jesus in the beautiful crib scene made of it all.</p><p>But the combination of the safe space and the sense of the importance of the place did, I think, help our group to create an openness to new insights and learning about ministry and ourselves, and it felt like we were there for much longer than five days.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wvbXQedyrTv1HRHBtb7u1iJzIo_1c0jtkZzLS0-7e6exdkp4hsnoEV4aiCAZA607FYbc6FQfunP6y_jBz_OAAUWos6ukaT2wSddKtuffRDhLNFS8IajOwiLgZgGyaj3liaNPgpPtDRWEFTFmAAFEXXkEMf93fD1WG7EPKSW7O9kkWIuB8X9iFx_Q6NU/s4096/IMG_20240201_140217621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wvbXQedyrTv1HRHBtb7u1iJzIo_1c0jtkZzLS0-7e6exdkp4hsnoEV4aiCAZA607FYbc6FQfunP6y_jBz_OAAUWos6ukaT2wSddKtuffRDhLNFS8IajOwiLgZgGyaj3liaNPgpPtDRWEFTFmAAFEXXkEMf93fD1WG7EPKSW7O9kkWIuB8X9iFx_Q6NU/s320/IMG_20240201_140217621.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>One thing that only came to me on our penultimate day was also to do with the location. Windsor sits directly under the flight path for Heathrow airport and aircraft were our constant overhead companions. For my entire married life until now, we have been "under the aircraft", or at least had life greatly influenced by the demands of British Airways' flight schedule. There were times when my poor husband had no annual leave allocated during school holidays. It was impossible to plan far in advance for anything, unless he was awarded annual leave for things like family weddings and celebrations. I was a part-time single parent as his work took him away for things like concerts, assemblies, school events. All of this no longer applies since he has retired- and school concerts are not something we tend to go to any more. But it took a week of being under the aircraft at Windsor for this to truly sink in for me. </p><p>It was a huge privilege to undertake that transition and to have space to contemplate a new phase of life in that place.</p><p>I have no photos of the Chapel as photography is not permitted inside - but there is the website where you can have a virtual tour. <a href="https://www.stgeorges-windsor.org/" target="_blank">St George's Windsor</a></p><p><br /></p><br /><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-82856044511769710192024-03-18T15:14:00.001+00:002024-03-18T15:14:33.349+00:00Sabbatical Soundings part 4 - All at sea<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Random things I learned at sea (in no particular order)</span></p><p><br /></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>It is utterly mesmerising. It is in constant movement and never looks the same two seconds in a row. It is always interacting - with the wind, the light, the clouds, the sun. When the sunlight broke through the clouds and tickled the surface, it was a beautiful party that I felt like I wanted to dive into. I can see why people fall in love with ocean travel.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPA_Mu8Z1IhDJvUDn0Z3SAztFoi7M9Yh3BKF3y3bXgzCsr6Z-JS3rFnxfyRf7c7ipvq66neTFXqhPGXrI9hN8zZ_CNfuZbK0WM0-n6D6btfWNtT8P0kblcw4w7_fVKGGSmlyAbr16RUZWIprKTzLbDtPzvTlhsuFn3ka_raNUBx8NT7okUswprILbDuCU/s4096/2024-02-18%2008.47.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2364" data-original-width="4096" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPA_Mu8Z1IhDJvUDn0Z3SAztFoi7M9Yh3BKF3y3bXgzCsr6Z-JS3rFnxfyRf7c7ipvq66neTFXqhPGXrI9hN8zZ_CNfuZbK0WM0-n6D6btfWNtT8P0kblcw4w7_fVKGGSmlyAbr16RUZWIprKTzLbDtPzvTlhsuFn3ka_raNUBx8NT7okUswprILbDuCU/w518-h300/2024-02-18%2008.47.01.jpg" width="518" /></a></div></li><li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>It is really boring (yes, I know, but I'm asking readers to do the grown up thing and hold two contradictory facts in our heads at the same time) It is endlessly dull and grey. When we were miles, hundreds of miles, from land, and all around was grey, I craved some other life. For days there were no birds, no life visible above the waves. For days there were no other vessels on the horizon. I can see why people go mad at sea for weeks on end. </li><li>There is a scale for sea swell. If you're interested, it's <a href="https://blog.metservice.com/Sea_State_and_Swell" target="_blank">here</a> It goes from 1 to 9. On day three when it got to 7 (high seas, 6-9m swell) little packets of sick bags appeared on each landing of the stairs. There were certainly times when walking was harder than you might imagine, we were woken up in the night from the rocking and rolling, and when nausea kicked in. The highest we got was a Force 9 wind and a sea swell of 8 - very high. I was very thankful to be on a modern large ship with stabilisers and ginger ale. And in awe of those who choose to travel the same ocean on something much smaller</li><li><br /></li><li><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5vM8u3YmOuhU03_kPNek1ySEreoHbDKfZcV5xoCy6sHdbbYqGj8MAjE3geFIJ2WH2RViWdQgV42cd3loQvEYppk94vpk86nmirX5zxs2U_Mfln9bRrQfI8hCi8uh8Fqtr-s9L236qyTBUWh6Z3DsY74xsM_ogKRFVA4Xml64Rg63L7xw-6qkgD100HE8/s4096/2024-02-19%2008.48.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5vM8u3YmOuhU03_kPNek1ySEreoHbDKfZcV5xoCy6sHdbbYqGj8MAjE3geFIJ2WH2RViWdQgV42cd3loQvEYppk94vpk86nmirX5zxs2U_Mfln9bRrQfI8hCi8uh8Fqtr-s9L236qyTBUWh6Z3DsY74xsM_ogKRFVA4Xml64Rg63L7xw-6qkgD100HE8/s320/2024-02-19%2008.48.18.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>It's very deep - at times there were thousands of metres of water below us. But the ship can also sail perfectly happily in quite shallow water as it approaches ports. On those days when I saw no other life, there was, of course plenty of it. It was simply below the surface. When else might I miss the life that is abundant, but below a surface?</li></ul><p></p><p><br /></p><br /><br /><p><br /></p>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-8794250587353342512024-03-13T18:12:00.000+00:002024-03-13T18:12:37.614+00:00Sabbatical Soundings part 3 - Ocean perspectives. <p>It was something of a surprise to both my husband and I when I decided a Transatlantic crossing on a cruise ship would be something I'd like to do. Famously, I previously felt seasick on a canal barge.</p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3xJuQdEFkMdPaW3Jj5fWVRHEVxfWUe3m4twiKTv7xwBxIPK0QKNVcz-sN7L2oSaMCBMe9hRjUtVAv3auGwMk3TuIdORKDA5EJ0J3YMMS3yOCq6zooL6BUHjHR8WSld4u9dalfvr8bJJFewfKgS9ZU2Irrk_8uxQXt4aQU3S5FDPYMxN1l1UFOGQoxzo/s4096/IMG_20240215_135755422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3xJuQdEFkMdPaW3Jj5fWVRHEVxfWUe3m4twiKTv7xwBxIPK0QKNVcz-sN7L2oSaMCBMe9hRjUtVAv3auGwMk3TuIdORKDA5EJ0J3YMMS3yOCq6zooL6BUHjHR8WSld4u9dalfvr8bJJFewfKgS9ZU2Irrk_8uxQXt4aQU3S5FDPYMxN1l1UFOGQoxzo/s320/IMG_20240215_135755422.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>But for me there was something about the length of the journey (11 nights on board with no stops) that appealed. It felt like we were placing the emphasis on the travelling itself - and the time and effort involved in just travelling. Travelling 5000 miles at around 20mph was something I had never experienced. It was a significant investment of time compared with our 8 hour flight home. </p><p><br /></p><p>Of course, it was also a luxury! we were on board a large modern cruise ship - I really would not like to cross the ocean in something smaller! Our cabin was comfortable and the food was good (and plentiful) There was entertainment on board that we dipped in and out of (mostly out) but it was an opportunity to be off-grid and to read - both of which I took full advantage of. </p><p><br /></p><p>One of the aspects of the journey I knew I'd enjoy was the big skies. I love living where I live, but its abundance of trees means that my horizon is at least 50 feet above my head, and only a patch of sky is visible from any window. I wanted to put myself somewhere that the horizon would make me feel small and to experience something of the size of our planet in a way that modern air travel tends to deprive us of.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOKzFuorPk0k56EFO1iS-nMt4DgGMV5cWKBcoEznIbhkfY72PUuYiBeCtXO1mqmvQaRIuoF7-z8sC1OkFLXJKalrbCePJUnyoUfcBRumJpBwtHlOH71fjQWwQaqEMBBi6LB9mmLBtwA9m4xfB0wrhOelOVTT4jT7Io7oyGZL_2KRykgf8LPn3lfugN80/s4096/IMG_20240222_185850628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOKzFuorPk0k56EFO1iS-nMt4DgGMV5cWKBcoEznIbhkfY72PUuYiBeCtXO1mqmvQaRIuoF7-z8sC1OkFLXJKalrbCePJUnyoUfcBRumJpBwtHlOH71fjQWwQaqEMBBi6LB9mmLBtwA9m4xfB0wrhOelOVTT4jT7Io7oyGZL_2KRykgf8LPn3lfugN80/s320/IMG_20240222_185850628.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>On the Atlantic ocean the sky was utterly enormous. Sometimes the horizon was close to the ship - we had some days of poor visibility with the result that the ship frequently deployed its fog horn. But on other days it stretched into the distance as if the ship and the sea were the only things to exist. So, although the ship itself was huge, it was more than possible to feel small. <p></p><p>All too often I find there are things in life or in ministry which completely fill my horizon in an unhealthy way. What I need in those moments is a proper perspective. During our days at sea, as I sat and thought and read and prayed, I was able to find different perspectives on some things that I had been finding difficult. While there was learning and some healing in that itself, it turned out to be only the first of several shifts of perspective that the trip would bring about.</p><p>The gift and privilege of this sense of size, so hard to describe, has also brought a fresh meaning to some familiar hymns and songs.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="388" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oTOP304FOG0" width="467" youtube-src-id="oTOP304FOG0"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="403" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/26cyYoBqiQ8" width="484" youtube-src-id="26cyYoBqiQ8"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-6496186417909689942024-03-12T18:01:00.001+00:002024-03-12T18:34:29.769+00:00Sabbatical Soundings - Part 2 Ash Wednesday - dust or water?<p>I had an odd Ash Wednesday this year. Not only because my Extended Study Leave (Sabbatical) has taken me away from parish ministry altogether for the whole of Lent, Holy Week and Easter, but because it was the second day of our Transatlantic crossing from Southampton to Miami. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8SrNaWwigGccG91-Bsx6WlUYqY7lwrjzf1j_AqIE1AABeID8eXedogKl2JiAjMcCAcuuA3o3_mPgPlI6haQCDWFVAtaL3gV5WO4Fna3bgi_wkAN9QeoNX3XZPDSXQwqx0cMqmCAcIAt3sWdNWPlXYhWqSSoUC8tvap-4Jx66aUDmlO_erFb5mDNorrA/s2693/Ash%20Wed%20cropped%201.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2693" data-original-width="1788" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8SrNaWwigGccG91-Bsx6WlUYqY7lwrjzf1j_AqIE1AABeID8eXedogKl2JiAjMcCAcuuA3o3_mPgPlI6haQCDWFVAtaL3gV5WO4Fna3bgi_wkAN9QeoNX3XZPDSXQwqx0cMqmCAcIAt3sWdNWPlXYhWqSSoUC8tvap-4Jx66aUDmlO_erFb5mDNorrA/s320/Ash%20Wed%20cropped%201.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>I saw a meme about Ash Wednesday coinciding with Valentine's Day this year, which it does, every so often. It went something like this:<p></p><p>Q:(addressed to a priest) "What are your plans for Valentine's Day?"</p><p>A: "I'm rubbing dirt on people's faces and telling them they're going to die."</p><p><br /></p><p>It is my privilege every year to do just that. Or at least to say to people who come forward to have an ash cross marked on their forehead, that they should:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return. Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ."</p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p></blockquote><p>It's a profoundly moving moment for me, not least as I look back on seven years in this parish and remember those people whom I've ashed and whose funerals I have subsequently conducted. </p><p>Ash Wednesday, like the whole of Lent invites us to consider our mortality. Not in a morbid way, but because through Lent we move inexorably towards the death of Christ on Good Friday. But it's also because we're invited to consider how we will spend the days of the life that we have. Lent is an invitation into the fullest possible life - life with God - and that's why we examine our disciplines of prayer, worship, reading, fasting, generosity, and through these practices (as the Common Worship Eucharistic Preface has it) "learn to be your people once again".</p><p><br /></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5i2-jP5P83ApsWnQi1mGtWpTzAMp_CoqE34gjmR4zblnIJGuGLbg6kOdjbspWO3J7lYHoQrkKAyMhCEAEnenk13qVg2iuJpWpU4gZBBQT12fjGd1uSeeYA_H6cEV8sQwE8hPJMNTJY6enlp1k-Uzh9zgkzvTRwoSeiF8IFdtPKETE8b8VEl2N_LpIeZ0/s2795/Ash%20wed%20cropped%202.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2795" data-original-width="2280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5i2-jP5P83ApsWnQi1mGtWpTzAMp_CoqE34gjmR4zblnIJGuGLbg6kOdjbspWO3J7lYHoQrkKAyMhCEAEnenk13qVg2iuJpWpU4gZBBQT12fjGd1uSeeYA_H6cEV8sQwE8hPJMNTJY6enlp1k-Uzh9zgkzvTRwoSeiF8IFdtPKETE8b8VEl2N_LpIeZ0/w255-h320/Ash%20wed%20cropped%202.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making ash from <br />the previous year's Palm Crosses</td></tr></tbody></table>One of the reasons for using ash on Ash Wednesday is because the Biblical tradition tells us that humans were made from the dust of the earth, and we return there after death when we're buried. The first human, named Adam, deriving from the Hebrew word for soil or earth was so named because God created humans from the dust of the earth. (You can read all about that in Genesis Chapter 2.)<p></p><p>Anyway, this year as we headed out into the Atlantic ocean, I discovered that dust and ash are quite hard to come by on a cruise ship. I should perhaps have thought of that before I left but I had other packing issues. There is no soil on the ship (not even any artificial plants as it turns out) and very little dust because they keep the place scrupulously clean in the aftermath of Covid. No dust to use to mark the start of Lent and to remember our mortality. </p><p>However, we were completely surrounded by water.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_r38fC8iKRtHqetJTJ79iVEJaAy6TusWfjXIkCjzvsFjmg0PK9lwa4wKUp7QYY8zx4PuLtjdPzP_5favXwKGVOkrY10WDwOVmg_Ph8EOyL0Q86oBntSx06Odkd5o9daPJUivpEO024gniPt9rg2sHmYWCYfTq76cnL_k9BgN8Jo63h9UibtOx4JD3hqM/s2381/Ash%20wed%20cropped%203.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2381" data-original-width="2291" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_r38fC8iKRtHqetJTJ79iVEJaAy6TusWfjXIkCjzvsFjmg0PK9lwa4wKUp7QYY8zx4PuLtjdPzP_5favXwKGVOkrY10WDwOVmg_Ph8EOyL0Q86oBntSx06Odkd5o9daPJUivpEO024gniPt9rg2sHmYWCYfTq76cnL_k9BgN8Jo63h9UibtOx4JD3hqM/s320/Ash%20wed%20cropped%203.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished ash!</td></tr></tbody></table>That got me thinking. Israel was a people more accustomed to the desert than the sea (think Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Elijah) so their understanding of where humans began will have been influenced by this. But water is essential for life - and desert people certainly knew that. While the desert is an important part of the story of God's people, Israel, water is significant too. They were saved from their life of slavery in Egypt through the waters of the Red Sea. The Spirit of God hovered over the waters at the time of creation. They passed through the Jordan river to enter into the Promised Land. Some of this is echoed in the Christian Baptismal rite where the prayers say: <p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -1em;">"Over water the Holy Spirit moved in the beginning of creation. </span><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -1em;">Through water you led the children of Israel </span><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -1em;">from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -1em;">(Common Worship Baptism, prayer over the water)</span></span></p><p>We have a different understanding of where life began from those who wrote down the stories of Genesis. We know now that all life on earth began in water, and that humans are made of about 60% water. </p><p>In the Christian tradition, water is most often associated with new life through Baptism rather than mortality and death, although there are some interesting connections. Some people still request that their coffins are sprinkled with water at their funerals to signify and recall their Baptism. But the words I couldn't quite remember on the ship (no internet to look them up!) were these ones:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="ve1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: "Open Sans", calibri, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; letter-spacing: 0.225px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em;">"We thank you, Father, for the water of baptism.</p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="ve1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: "Open Sans", calibri, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19px; letter-spacing: 0.225px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em;">In it we are buried with Christ in his death."</p></blockquote></blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -16px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Common Worship Baptism, prayer over the water)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -16px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Easter is the traditional time for Baptism in the church and Lent was the traditional time for preparation for Baptism when candidates for Baptism would learn about the spiritual disciplines of the Christian faith in preparation to "die with Christ and be raised to new life </span></span><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -16px;">in Baptism" on the feast of the Resurrection. For us, Lent usually begins with dust and ends with water.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -16px;">However, this Ash Wednesday, I found a way to reflect on the meaning of the beginning </span><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -16px;">of Lent, my own death and Christian life with an entirely different set of imagery and metaphors, something that I'm still pondering. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYYqHDQVqoYRxQYnJt2PB2YUPpcQhcH4Ot0wGwruurV8ghjiU2CjklU8qZlpvoKnmSYDNWINmVtklBBgxkH_E-qnXNNpoKQMaSnXUXLnnBFok_3tmispNvCVFBqlnngshaA6G-SRFP5_7dCHhCFI1053bNLkgLrzjPjBu39mIbBAmpWmisDYSsdHCFf8/s4096/IMG_20240215_124908805.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYYqHDQVqoYRxQYnJt2PB2YUPpcQhcH4Ot0wGwruurV8ghjiU2CjklU8qZlpvoKnmSYDNWINmVtklBBgxkH_E-qnXNNpoKQMaSnXUXLnnBFok_3tmispNvCVFBqlnngshaA6G-SRFP5_7dCHhCFI1053bNLkgLrzjPjBu39mIbBAmpWmisDYSsdHCFf8/s320/IMG_20240215_124908805.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.225px; text-indent: -16px;">It was no less meaningful for being different. And there was a lot of water!</span></p>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-13637187984581178302024-03-12T16:54:00.002+00:002024-03-12T16:54:55.678+00:00Sabbatical Soundings<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiryRkWVDsFsPGgkJZCZV-EJBt9XUogY9bgsC34blGMM6_mN13MYay4CuFs-3UFUGd053BS-Tti024xXhNDWxgOAckQVuBoXCukGfjRCGp11HsOhsKGkKoIOVZX2G9URCedGONSJHYSz4Ag2pQL49vGdvau4O2Tl5VwYZLZftHY2vlZllK5ADe6m9ebeWg/s4000/2023-11-05%2017.27.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiryRkWVDsFsPGgkJZCZV-EJBt9XUogY9bgsC34blGMM6_mN13MYay4CuFs-3UFUGd053BS-Tti024xXhNDWxgOAckQVuBoXCukGfjRCGp11HsOhsKGkKoIOVZX2G9URCedGONSJHYSz4Ag2pQL49vGdvau4O2Tl5VwYZLZftHY2vlZllK5ADe6m9ebeWg/s320/2023-11-05%2017.27.22.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> <p></p><p>2024 sees a period of Sabbatical for me. This amounts to three months of Extended Study leave during which time we are encouraged to pray, rest, read, travel and taking time away from the demands of our ministry to be refreshed and resourced. For me, the timing is perfect. My current role has changed considerably over the time that I have been in post (7 years) and has expanded to proportions that were not envisaged when I took on the role.</p><p>I'm tired and need a break. I also need time to envisage a different way of working - I can't continue with 60+ hour weeks that leave little time or energy for anything else. So that's what I'm hoping for.</p><p>But I'm hugely grateful to the very talented team in the parish of churchwardens, PCC members, and ministry team who will be holding the fort and also to the lovely friends and colleagues who are covering Sunday worship. It was no small undertaking to find cover for three churches for three months, and I'm enormously grateful to everyone who is helping out. I have no doubt that the parish will enjoy hearing them preach and receiving their ministry.</p><p>So there may be a few posts to help me reflect on what's been going on, and to share some of my musings. Some of them will be after the event since I have periods of time when I am without internet access (imagine!!!)</p><p>Let's see what happens....<br /></p>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-75955942388545926242021-02-17T11:36:00.002+00:002021-02-17T11:36:53.820+00:00Ash Wednesday<p> How can it be Lent again? Sometimes it feels as if we never left last Lent. I will never forget the scramble to do an online service from the church building on Lent 4 last year. It was not much of a <i>Laetare </i>refreshment Sunday. But we managed something and then came the rapid digita upskilling for us - among many churches. Within a few weeks, the choir in one of my churches was producing music from home - a discpline they have faithfully mantained for many months - interrupted sometimes with brief periods of singing together in the church building. Which is something that I hope none of us ever take for granted again.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJA1caP-nRXh_ok047ozcRi0WJyC8IVHgdZE3izrb85LrNRZBBXXT9yjomZEryzyk33HD2sWsM71lh4YiV4OF7FX4EKaTPaUlaHx35-d2iHBFxb8-RAvmdCMfwiYDRsK1nctQXOy6X21M/s2048/IMG_20210217_112644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJA1caP-nRXh_ok047ozcRi0WJyC8IVHgdZE3izrb85LrNRZBBXXT9yjomZEryzyk33HD2sWsM71lh4YiV4OF7FX4EKaTPaUlaHx35-d2iHBFxb8-RAvmdCMfwiYDRsK1nctQXOy6X21M/s320/IMG_20210217_112644.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>But the calendar does not lie, and today is, in spite of my scepticism, Ash Wednesday. The day on which we ponder our mortality - and (re?) commit ourselves to spiritual disciplines that will help us to deal with it better - by reminding us that Christian faith and hope maintain that this life is not all there is. God transcends this life and draws us into eternity. So we will die - but it is then that we will see fully....<p></p><p>As a priest on this day I usually get to look healthy people in the eye, make a cross-shaped ash smudge on their forehead and remind them that they are going to die. It's impossibly meaningful and yet utterly mundane.</p><p>This year, we're doing it slightly differently. Congregation members have been able to collect a stone with an ash-and-varnish cross on it which we will use in our online service tonight (for which our choir have recorded a hymn, and anthem and a rather lovely plainchant version of Psalm 51 - all of which will be available on our <a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/NSABparish/featured" target="_blank">You Tube Channel</a> later)</p><p>But the reminder is there. As if we need it. For haven't we done more pondering of our mortality in the past 12 months than at any other time in many of our lives? Every decision at every level (Can I break the rules and walk with <i>two </i>friends? Should I visit my sick parent? Shoud I re-open schools? Restaurants? Who gets a vaccination today?) is governed by considerations of human mortality. Every single decision for the past year has been about saving people from premature death - or saving the ability of the Health Service to cope with patient numbers - which actually amount to the same thing.</p><p>I think that, like it or not there has been a collective contemplation of the fragility of life, and the certainty of death. Whether that will bring about lasting change in culture and lifestyle is another (much harder) question. So if, like me, you feel tht your have contemplated mortality enough, i'd like to offer another way of thinking about today. I was really struck by <a href="http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/13/ash-wednesday-the-terrible-marvelous-dust/" target="_blank">Jan Richardson's Blessing of Dust</a> and the insistent question, "Do you not know what the Holy One can do with dust?" </p><p>Into the dust of human life, God came, lived and died. And transformed that dust into something of eternal worth. So let us be marked, Jan says:</p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>for claiming</span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">what God can do</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">within the dust,</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">within the dirt,</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">within the stuff</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">of which the world</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">is made</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">and the stars that blaze</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">in our bones</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">and the galaxies that spiral</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">inside the smudge</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">we bear.</div></blockquote><p>© Jan Richardson <a href="http://paintedprayerbook.com/2016/02/08/ash-wednesday-a-blessing-in-the-ashes/" target="_blank">The Painted Prayer Book</a></p><p>What can God do with the dust of which we are made this Lent?</p>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-53892312512265236612020-03-25T20:01:00.000+00:002020-03-25T20:01:13.709+00:00Wilderness<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBG07uL2FuRltN3NCUxokkz2-EuCabDhnNX-8jxxgnEHrDsj_ijpELQg9ZYFaKRhtxUJIq3PupwztMqSOTTaC4mPDmSNAEYqwYruay0AK4G-omBEeri9uHqDuvXLlrHZTxZ7fNQQ5Dxb4/s1600/2019-01-13+11.19.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBG07uL2FuRltN3NCUxokkz2-EuCabDhnNX-8jxxgnEHrDsj_ijpELQg9ZYFaKRhtxUJIq3PupwztMqSOTTaC4mPDmSNAEYqwYruay0AK4G-omBEeri9uHqDuvXLlrHZTxZ7fNQQ5Dxb4/s400/2019-01-13+11.19.14.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Judean wilderness January 2019 - a traditional idea of wilderness?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Wilderness<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Wilderness is wide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Bare rocks are there – <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">No place to hide,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Exposed to all the elements<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">From every side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Wilderness holds fear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Of dangers seen, unseen,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">From far and near,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Threatening sounds and shadows<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Are everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Wilderness can bloom,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Creative power is there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Trees and plants find room,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Signs that life will flourish,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Death be overcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="font-size: 14pt;">Wendy Ross-Barker</i></div>
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It seems like forever ago now but on Monday evenings we hold (held) something called Evening Stillness. A short introduction, then a reflection to help us frame our thoughts, and then around 20 minutes of silence. I love it. Thinking along a Lenten theme, I chose this poem for the 9th March. It has been sitting on my desk ever since and I keep returning to it.<br />
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It seems to be such a metaphor for where we are now.<br />
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We find ourselves in a strange new world where we are all staying at home. It might feel barren, wide with nowhere to hide. We feel exposed and vulnerable - like being in a desert.<br />
It's a threatening place. One of the things I love to do is Godly Play and there are a number of the stories of God's people that take place in the desert. One of the lines in the stories about the desert is that you don't go there unless you have to. Like self-isolation and social distancing perhaps...<br />
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But God sometimes spoke very clearly to God's people when they were in thh desert. Think of Abraham entertaining the strangers in the desert, or the wilderness wanderings of Moses and his gang. So it can also be a place of creativity, and there are many signs that death will be overcome.<br />
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I don't know about you but I have been enormously cheered by some of the silly videos and photos that people have been posting of their antics in isolation or quarantine.<br />
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There's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmArAxep2Co&fbclid=IwAR3QVe_4NDrVGL1K4HuEbFWJxnTwpTQ-a3AyOx5SFnCKj6-qsCL5SA4gUls" target="_blank">this song</a> by Sam Chaplin (apologies for the resulting earmworm)<br />
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Or <a href="https://video.twimg.com/ext_tw_video/1242554267115884544/pu/vid/352x270/C2lz4vEFneoCz6SS.mp4?tag=10" target="_blank">this video</a> of an amazing machine at home.<br />
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And then there's the beautiful stuff like <a href="https://youtu.be/pKChy-SRNSU" target="_blank">this video</a> of a Guildford choir singing wonderful harmonies whilst apart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc44oiQoySvfDcpP_THw3sER432Q0Y4PmhE49KLpY7bcUc66ydx29jhWCu4oMw0vxLJf3gML9WmSi6KtZwhmqSdp8qTVbxm-hy3F0CpiFDr1wX5Qwc9RBeXq_1F4-CN4aYjAZUQ2G1cWU/s1600/2020-03-24+10.45.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc44oiQoySvfDcpP_THw3sER432Q0Y4PmhE49KLpY7bcUc66ydx29jhWCu4oMw0vxLJf3gML9WmSi6KtZwhmqSdp8qTVbxm-hy3F0CpiFDr1wX5Qwc9RBeXq_1F4-CN4aYjAZUQ2G1cWU/s320/2020-03-24+10.45.27.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My current wilderness</td></tr>
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My wilderness looks a little like this photo at the moment - it's beautiful Spring, with lots of signs of new life in nature. Separated perhaps. But there is creativity and new life around. I hope you can share in some of that, and find peace and joy too.<br />
<br />Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-25695364356496772772020-03-17T10:50:00.000+00:002020-03-17T10:50:12.141+00:00The self-isolated woman at the well - John 4 A homily for 15th March 2020<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I love the
English language. It is ever-changing and evolving. Every year, the dictionary
compilers add new words to the dictionary – and choose a word of the year. A
few years ago, who knew what a selfie was? And why it may or may not need a
stick? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can’t help
wondering if the word of 2020 will be a compound one, self-isolate. It’s a word
I think we would never have used a few months ago. We would have known what it
meant, but it would have seemed an odd choice of phrase <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- how things change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I don’t
think that self-isolate is a new concept. In fact I think it’s something that
appears in our Gospel readings today. The woman at the well. In Samaria. It was
perhaps not the most obvious choice of route from Galilee to Jerusalem for an
observant Jew like Jesus. Many would have made the detour to avoid the
territory. The Jews and the Samaritans had a history of mutual hatred and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>distrust. The dispute was almost a thousand
years old by the time that Jesus met this woman. A theological and political
dispute dating from the splitting of the northern and southern kingdoms. When
Jesus told the story of the good Samaritan, he was telling a radical story of
boundary-crossing that has been somewhat diluted over the years. When we hear
Samaritan, we think “good.” When his disciples heard “Samaritan”, they thought
untouchable. Beyond the pale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSWVQHVxqgMc3qbxgHjtBBnTFeb9sL3hYrXkoq5NjLtsjhcHLJMj8mHXzDgNcoQsl9ZEyWk0d16DQyjDQG1ndfuMACti6PVCVxIfPpP6nqCDCo6hPT4RoGtatD2ecmWsdIlke9X_yquY/s1600/096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSWVQHVxqgMc3qbxgHjtBBnTFeb9sL3hYrXkoq5NjLtsjhcHLJMj8mHXzDgNcoQsl9ZEyWk0d16DQyjDQG1ndfuMACti6PVCVxIfPpP6nqCDCo6hPT4RoGtatD2ecmWsdIlke9X_yquY/s320/096.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living water? The River Jordan at Caeserea Philippi</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the
Samaritan woman that Jesus meets at the well might have been regarded as the
lowest of even these Samaritans. She was, perhaps self-isolating. We don’t
know, but we might speculate that her relationship history had made her shunned
by the rest of the women in the village. She was there alone in the heat of the
day. Or perhaps she was self-isolating. Having had enough of the gossip, the
taunts, the sly looks, she takes herself away from where she can be infected,
polluted, by the hatred and suspicion of others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And perhaps
today when we think of it like that, the gospel reading takes on a new light.
In the state of self-isolation, Jesus speaks to the woman. He does not shun
her. He gives the means to quench her thirst for the true God for good. Jesus comes
to those who are isolated or who isolate themselves. He comes to the shunned
and those who shun others. That is his mission. He does not come for those who
are well, but those who are sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His
disciples can scarcely believe it. Why does he pay attention to this woman? For
what reason are so many of their taboos being ignored? Just how unclean is
Jesus prepared to make himself in order to have his message heard by others?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We have no
idea what lies ahead of us over the next few weeks. But it is likely that many
of us may need to take some time to be away from others. This may or may not be
welcome to us! But there is a need to address and acknowledge the fear that is
widespread. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Isolation is
not a good thing, all in all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jesus
created a community of believers, in his lifetime and after his resurrection,
the Holy Spirit continued that work at Pentecost. The church is a gathering, an
ekklesia. It is all about being together with other believers. But there might
be a time ahead of us when it is difficult to gather. There might come a time
ahead of us when we choose to remove ourselves from<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>other people. But Jesus is still with us.
Jesus still brings living water. Jesus will meet us when we are on our own,
away from others. Jesus will be there always, ready to enter into conversation
with us. ready to reveal himself as Saviour. So don’t be afraid. We are His and
he is with us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the
woman – even from her isolated position was able to share her faith in Jesus.
She was able to bring others to him so that he could share that living water
with more people. Perhaps there’s our challenge – even if we become physically
estranged from others, we might still be able to point them to Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-14288953896618545722014-04-20T18:40:00.000+01:002014-04-20T18:40:01.535+01:00An itch where my dog collar usually is.... Happy Easter! Christ is risen!<br />
This Easter has been slightly odd. It's the first Easter in years where I haven't been responsible for anything happening in church. No liturgy to prepare or take part in. No sermon or intercessions or family service to lead. Nothing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4d7sqfsWnuiUqSR8LIBmQE8MyBxlSrjRq3a7CLqkG4_svU-Fn3n3Nx62rfgpwzSBYvHM4smbkvU2F-MeynylIgnjb8NqzEi5AMSwst0Z_yk2KUUzYa05UZ3akL4TDSNn2JhxsiITH3Q/s1600/2013-03-31+11.23.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4d7sqfsWnuiUqSR8LIBmQE8MyBxlSrjRq3a7CLqkG4_svU-Fn3n3Nx62rfgpwzSBYvHM4smbkvU2F-MeynylIgnjb8NqzEi5AMSwst0Z_yk2KUUzYa05UZ3akL4TDSNn2JhxsiITH3Q/s1600/2013-03-31+11.23.32.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Easter Cross at St Alban's Church, Southampton<br />where I served my title.</td></tr>
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It has been lovely in lots of ways. I spent much of my time over the past few days worshiping in the beautiful surroundings of Winchester Cathedral. The three hours devotion on Good Friday was thought-provoking and moving. Judith Maltby's addresses did not shirk the difficult issues (including the latent anti-semitism in some of the readings and liturgy) and the choir were in sublime voice - Lotti's <i>Crucifixus </i> was beautifully delivered. If I was to be a little critical, I'd have liked a bit more silence (although the supreme fidget I was sitting next to might have spoilt that a little anyway)<br />
The Saturday evening vigil was full of the liturgical drama of the new fire, light and new life at the font (with one of my former 8 o'clock congregation being both Baptised and Confirmed) It was a gorgeous sensory experience but as the risen Christ was proclaimed and celebrated in the Eucharist, something odd happened. My throat was itching so I scratched it. And realised that I was itching exactly where my dog collar would have sat had I been wearing one. And in that moment I realised that while I had loved being ministered to by others, I really missed being the one proclaiming the resurrection, and taking, blessing, breaking and sharing the bread. My vocation as a Christian was certainly affirmed in all that we did together in that service as we all remembered our Baptism following a sprinkling of water by the Bishop, but my vocation as priest among the people of God was itching to be expressed.<br />
Next year and probably for every other year until I retire (!) I will be doing that. This year was lovely. But confirmed in me (yet again) that vocation is a Godly itch that needs to be attended to. I look forward to doing that in a new place very soon.<br />
Happy Easter - may you know the joy and peace of the resurrected Lord - and scratch where you are itching!Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-63988624427799701132014-03-21T19:23:00.001+00:002014-03-21T19:23:57.637+00:00Imagining reality<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZ4-Bj-TErRuX5UtdAfcJ2_5YuL2egRNKvEpeNe-LhV3SAcXPOZ0isf41pFgjoeInCy1jz3VqBdU6pdSebuzwQoNHcOiLj3pq7vBgRF4pw0xK50pVHAnJc6u49fbaZweTiUsPATS47S8/s1600/2014-03-17+12.26.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZ4-Bj-TErRuX5UtdAfcJ2_5YuL2egRNKvEpeNe-LhV3SAcXPOZ0isf41pFgjoeInCy1jz3VqBdU6pdSebuzwQoNHcOiLj3pq7vBgRF4pw0xK50pVHAnJc6u49fbaZweTiUsPATS47S8/s1600/2014-03-17+12.26.19.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Hall</td></tr>
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This week, the family went to the Warner Bros Studios at Leavesdon where the Harry Potter films were made. We're all huge Harry Potter fans in our house and we were looking forward to going very much. We were not disappointed. We spent hours there, and because it wasn't too busy we saw everything we wanted to see and had a go at a few things too. Like riding on broomsticks, casting spells and drinking butterbeer.<br />
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It was fantastic to see such familiar sets and scenes for real - the Great Hall really is spectacular, and we loved the potions classroom, the Gryffindor Common Room and boys' dorm, Diagon Alley, Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts Castle.... and all of it really The Triwizard Cup, the golden snitch, Buckbeak, Aragog, the Ministry of Magic. Objects, characters and places that are familiar both from the books (where they looked slightly different in my mind at least) and the films where of course they emerge from the designers' imaginations.<br />
On reflection, although this was the "real stuff they used in the films", none of it was really real. Just like in any other movie, props are made and manipulated by the talented crew to appear to do things they don't do or have characteristics they don't have, and this is even more pronounced when the film is about a magical world that has come from the imagination of a talented storyteller. Sadly, the magic wand my daughter bought in the gift shop is showing no sign of being magical at all (although as we're muggles we probably couldn't make a real one work anyway....) and the Time Turner I bought has failed to provide me with any extra time in any day. So it was real stuff and yet, not really real - if I'm still making sense.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZ8mzT8mAhG71yLhIiyCp9u39I2IxSYT2v1iwjI1RsOUHV3pyD2suozR0l1UGY1o316xt8C3CpS6qPtjIXBmimZkWn6UjUAgOBfMNHKP3sCAc-BlHLEBe7XZo4MJyZXiJxWY0-IFd54w/s1600/2014-03-17+13.17.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZ8mzT8mAhG71yLhIiyCp9u39I2IxSYT2v1iwjI1RsOUHV3pyD2suozR0l1UGY1o316xt8C3CpS6qPtjIXBmimZkWn6UjUAgOBfMNHKP3sCAc-BlHLEBe7XZo4MJyZXiJxWY0-IFd54w/s1600/2014-03-17+13.17.22.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sword of Gryffindor</td></tr>
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When the Harry Potter books first became popular, I remember having conversations with Christians who were concerned that the "witchcraft" themes would become an unhelpful influence for children. As the saga continued and more books were published, I think it became clear that the books were filled with influences from the Christian story, and the climax (SPOILER ALERT) involved the sacrifice of one for many and a resurrection to boot. So perhaps those early fears proved groundless.<br />
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But the books and films and spin-off merchandise are all the product of a very creative imagination. And I've been pondering the power of imagination all week.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Alq65CsNYa5i__POT3CLV4omLltKz4cNkcQwQG-cpS2lykozoQ-nyANGqTDV4uM-d_QaREycS97PqhBi98vTFkDYDkvS6nRvwvWDRXxxmeG7ZQhKtTkXQfbNMw_wu8NOFtwQqzHORXg/s1600/2014-03-17+13.20.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Alq65CsNYa5i__POT3CLV4omLltKz4cNkcQwQG-cpS2lykozoQ-nyANGqTDV4uM-d_QaREycS97PqhBi98vTFkDYDkvS6nRvwvWDRXxxmeG7ZQhKtTkXQfbNMw_wu8NOFtwQqzHORXg/s1600/2014-03-17+13.20.07.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermione's time turner. My own is yet to produce<br /> a single millisecond of extra time!</td></tr>
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I'm in a Diocese where the Synod recently set four strategic priorities, including to "re-imagine the Church". I love to use imagination in Bible study, in preaching and in worship, and some of the best feedback on preaching I've had is where I preached a completely narrative sermon, imaginatively re-telling the story from the point of view of one of the characters.<br />
Human imagination is undoubtedly a precious and powerful gift from God. Christians do need to use imagination to properly engage with God's mission because it inevitably involves change.<br />
Perhaps there is a hint of this in Jesus' words to his disciples that we need to become like a child to enter the Kingdom.<br />
What does it really mean to be good news to the poor, to bring sight to the blind, freedom to captives? What does that look like in 2014? In the case of the churches in my Diocese (and probably elsewhere too) we need to accept that it probably doesn't mean more bums on our cherished pews, and also that re-imagining the church will mean that quite a lot of what we already hold dear will have to change beyond recognition.<br />
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J.K Rowling's imagination produced a world of marvels and much-loved characters. It's fantastic and fun and a story which contains lots of important truths. And still none of it is really real.<br />
In contrast, Christian imagination used for the transformation of disciples and through them the communities they live in, can produce something that is really real. For if we're imagining God's Kingdom, we're imagining the most real reality there is. <br />
In my "do nothing" moments this Lent (for more, see <a href="http://hallowedchaos.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/not-busy.html" target="_blank">here</a>) I've been doing a bit of, what I like to think of as, holy day-dreaming.<br />
I have yet to come up with a world of Muggles and Quidditch (and that's been done already anyway) but perhaps those moments will allow me to catch a glimpse of eternity and inspire me to do my bit to re-imagine, not just the Church, but the world which it is here to serve.<br />
<br />Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-18611796556768802012014-03-10T15:43:00.002+00:002014-03-10T15:44:27.486+00:00Not busyThis year I am not busy for Lent. To find out more, click <a href="http://www.notbusy.co.uk/#how" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
It involves intentionally sitting still and doing nothing for at least 10 minutes every day.<br />
Sounds simple?<br />
Well, the idea is simple but the execution is proving much harder than you might imagine. The temptations are endless - radio, TV, internet distractions, books sitting around to be read, magazines and papers with tempting articles, music to be listened to.<br />
I have decided to not have the radio or any music on. I really am trying to still my mind. I failed on Ash Wednesday completely. On the Friday I forgot. But from the attempts I have made so far, here is what I have learned:<br />
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1. 10 minutes is a long time. I set a timer and the first day I did it, I kept looking at it. This did not help time pass more quickly.<br />
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2. I will remember lots of things I need to do as soon as I sit still. However I have decided not to pick up the pen and write them down as that definitely counts as Doing Something. I have yet to discover if I will always remember these things after the 10 minutes is over, or if I will forget them entirely. Or indeed if it matters if I forget them entirely. Perhaps I will find out that it's OK if some things just don't get done.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDU8foLUrSz2jtmc1rcVmGHhjYn4grUyYtB5eD3JniVWxHpoc52YGEveaJPOw4TKwyMQKNC3D-xjh8gLe7DjbvaBknnaZDX3sGpYR2uqudqnsj5zCuMXXuyLdJD3yCouWi7yRvZZz4TeU/s1600/2014-03-10+15.39.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDU8foLUrSz2jtmc1rcVmGHhjYn4grUyYtB5eD3JniVWxHpoc52YGEveaJPOw4TKwyMQKNC3D-xjh8gLe7DjbvaBknnaZDX3sGpYR2uqudqnsj5zCuMXXuyLdJD3yCouWi7yRvZZz4TeU/s1600/2014-03-10+15.39.44.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>3. It is easier to do this when I'm not running a busy parish. But perhaps that's why I need to get into the habit now so that when I do get back into a parish, it's already a regular part of my discipline.<br />
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4. It is much easier doing nothing when the puppy comes and sits on the sofa with me and I can stroke her velvety coat. I have convinced myself that this still amounts to doing nothing. After all, who could resist this?<br />
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<br />Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-80529684258160988672014-03-09T21:10:00.001+00:002014-03-09T21:28:04.997+00:00All change<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunfBpa9jYyWnZe44LMXTkPSeJ5jiX7RnSTbAwRpIPP6GO4ZjzRRLIDEJrm-TGZMnJEHEDaiu3QOzkQRYaPvKrdOe55GTNUaYCVEq8A8ZEz4UC42sSPUmH8YtceStFsuqdvU2vCGfcPBc/s1600/2014-02-22+15.06.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunfBpa9jYyWnZe44LMXTkPSeJ5jiX7RnSTbAwRpIPP6GO4ZjzRRLIDEJrm-TGZMnJEHEDaiu3QOzkQRYaPvKrdOe55GTNUaYCVEq8A8ZEz4UC42sSPUmH8YtceStFsuqdvU2vCGfcPBc/s1600/2014-02-22+15.06.59.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now gone to a good home!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr">
Today has been a difficult day in lots of ways. A final service in my title post, where I just about managed to retain my composure and although I know I gave the final blessing, I'm not sure exactly how.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Then lovely cards, flowers, astonishingly generous gifts, and a lovely feast even although it's Lent. I know I have friends here who I will be sure to stay in touch with, and to think of how much I have grown and changed and learned priest-craft ( is that a word?) in the almost four years I have been curate in the parish, is humbling. But somehow it doesn't seem real. <br />
Somehow, part of me thinks I am getting up in the morning to say Morning Prayer in St Alban's. But I won't. Well I will say Morning Prayer. But alone, in my study. Because a house move is not imminent, it all feels a little as if I'm not leaving at all.<br />
But something happened today which felt much more real. We had sold our climbing frame on a well-known internet auction site. It was a gift from my parents when we moved to Basingstoke (The Big Move South) and our children were both under three. It has been a feature of our lives for nearly 12 years. <br />
And now it's gone. <br />
It provided hours of fun for our children, and many of their friends over many years. It was a great asset to the garden. <br />
And now it's gone. <br />
More real than the end of my title post. More real than the move to a new place. <br />
Our children are now amazing young people, growing up, and with us for only a few years more.<br />
The other changes will kick in and become real over the next few days and weeks.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
But this one is real now. <br />
All change. </div>
Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-52946977986016399112014-03-08T14:45:00.000+00:002014-03-08T14:46:04.597+00:00Endings and beginnings<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3HySalZ-7FGrbCkKpSEpoRqiM-4ouGPI61jN_AwTMtjVuwAUbHfiMvUwpNMPlDzIxSwHy-tl9FNl79u_t59d8HBYKJxuMa3lywuevPUj_K1j7Q6RfsGNBL-Krhz0awInke1L8IKhAnA/s1600/2014-03-08+14.40.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3HySalZ-7FGrbCkKpSEpoRqiM-4ouGPI61jN_AwTMtjVuwAUbHfiMvUwpNMPlDzIxSwHy-tl9FNl79u_t59d8HBYKJxuMa3lywuevPUj_K1j7Q6RfsGNBL-Krhz0awInke1L8IKhAnA/s1600/2014-03-08+14.40.05.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signs of new life are all around. <br />And today there's even some sunshine!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today as I was sitting at my laptop writing my final sermon to be preached tomorrow in my curacy parish, I received an email with the rota for the services in my new one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It feels odd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The format is different.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The service pattern is different. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other names on it are different (although it really helps that there's a good friend already there - for a while at least) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's concrete (or at least paper) evidence of the change that lies before me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have long prayed for this change. A new role that allowed my children to stay at their school at least until after public exam courses are over. A context completely different to the one in which I served my title - I'm moving to a much more affluent parish, to churches with large congregations and a growing staff team. A job that will allow me to study and perhaps teach. But having the paper evidence of this change in front of me somehow makes it more real and simultaneously scary and exciting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are a lot of challenges in the weeks ahead. Uncertainty over when we might move house is the main one. Reading, thinking and exploring various opportunities for further study is another. I feel like I'm entering into a time of uncertainty, although it seems that much is already settled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I was preparing for tomorrow's sermon, I came across some words of Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy, who is one of the three people remembered by the Church of England's lectionary today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.790000915527344px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>“We have taught our people to use prayer too much as a means of comfort – not in the original and heroic sense of uplifting, inspiring, strengthening, but in the more modern and baser sense of soothing sorrow, dulling pain, and drying tears – the comfort of the cushion, not the comfort of the Cross.”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.790000915527344px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.790000915527344px;">I wonder if I've been thinking more in terms of the comfortable, cushioned road ahead (in spite of previous experience telling me that it is always anything but) instead of the way of the cross. I need reminding that a comfortable life with everything settled is not what Jesus promised his disciples. Change and uncertainty are part of the package. Learning to deal with that will be part of my discipline for Lent.</span></span></div>
Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-56218947209749420632014-03-07T17:11:00.001+00:002014-03-07T17:12:25.239+00:00Lenten Garden<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jiNzbml3vMluorVcCRA9ByZv6UAZGKwjm5P7Hw0SgWd-g3niIQ8E1hoFjNXCdclwGzCh2nkYPt7skrMbrJ4XzFHAy92PnUHAkScGnkSEP6so4f5cUGQWmEciQqwLSxeV7UwM6lcuYM4/s1600/2014-03-07+16.21.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jiNzbml3vMluorVcCRA9ByZv6UAZGKwjm5P7Hw0SgWd-g3niIQ8E1hoFjNXCdclwGzCh2nkYPt7skrMbrJ4XzFHAy92PnUHAkScGnkSEP6so4f5cUGQWmEciQqwLSxeV7UwM6lcuYM4/s1600/2014-03-07+16.21.30.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sadly, I wasn't thinking ahead enough to take a<br />"before" picture, but here is "after".</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Yesterday was my day off. It feels a bit odd to have a day off this week as I only have another few days left in the parish, with my final service being on Sunday. After walking the puppy, I took it into my head to do a job that had been annoying me for too long, and I cleared and cut back some climbing plants (botanical skills are zero I'm afraid so I have no idea what they are - only that there is - was - far too much of them)<br />
About 20 minutes in, I was regretting ever lifting up a pair of shears, but I battled on, and eventually the plants were well and truly pruned. Now I confess, I don't know that they'll definitely recover but I do know that I undertook the same exercise two years ago, and having to repeat it is ample testament to the vigorous nature of the plants. They were so vigorous in fact that they were preventing other things from growing - and so my spring bulbs, of which I am excessively fond, were shaded out and covered up, and as a result will not be the display I was hoping for when they were planted.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MX2DldzCqaP6o5fEzcsulBtA4-O1Adec6il_3eD8DWK3mllrooo8xRpTEi0HGx739ZETUn-hAQhiCOIlbu7cTu4z_DtaRWoj3cXABxnyfx0Rom6XFCPm96H7JLItolT8317dY8I7u-k/s1600/2014-03-07+16.21.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MX2DldzCqaP6o5fEzcsulBtA4-O1Adec6il_3eD8DWK3mllrooo8xRpTEi0HGx739ZETUn-hAQhiCOIlbu7cTu4z_DtaRWoj3cXABxnyfx0Rom6XFCPm96H7JLItolT8317dY8I7u-k/s1600/2014-03-07+16.21.38.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is some of the material cut away.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cutting away lots of plant material the morning after our Ash Wednesday service gave me plenty of time to think about the spiritual pruning that is traditionally called for during Lent. A time to deliberately and intentionally spend time with God and seek spiritual disciplines to cut away from our lives whatever may be unhelpful and preventing other beautiful things from growing.<br />
<br />
Lent will be odd for me this year as I find myself between posts. There will be time, I hope, as we prepare to move house and I prepare to take up a new post in a completely different context, to engage with some pruning of unnecessary things so that other things will grow. Disengaging from my curacy post has felt quite a lot like pruning, and it has not been a painless exercise. I am aware there is yet more to do, perhaps as the administrative and organisational functions which have taken up so much time of late are handed on, I can re-engage with other spiritual ones, recollect and redefine my identity as priest and child of God. I hope I can end Lent as ready for the resurrection as my garden is for new spring growth.<br />
And remember that I will certainly have to repeat the process again next year.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-8993768760283908492012-11-22T16:17:00.000+00:002012-11-22T16:17:00.122+00:00Thank God for Social Media<br />
<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
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width="320" /></div>
<br />
On Tuesday evening, Evensong had just finished at Salisbury Cathedral when I checked my Twitter feed.<br />
OK I won't lie. I had been checking it during the service too.<br />
The Synod hashtag feed was repeatedly refreshed, except during the singing by the choir of the <i>Magnificat </i> - Mary's song. As I listened to the familiar words and beautiful music (Noble in B minor) I had the rising sense that, just as God called the woman Mary to do something that had never been done before, (or since, it has to be said) God was also calling the women of this generation to do something new in the life of his church. Some of them would be Bishops.<br />
<br />
My Soul magnified the Lord and my Spirit rejoiced in God my saviour.<br />
<br />
And then I read my Twitter feed.<br />
<br />
I felt incredibly deflated. Shocked. Bereaved. I remain surprised by the strength of my own reaction and have spent today reading, praying and reflecting on it, leaving my place of retreat with a determination to serve, with as much commitment and compassion as before, the people among whom God has placed me.<br />
<br />
But on the night, it was hard. As a Myers-Briggs E, I need people around. I prefer to process what's going on out loud with other people. Admittedly this can have embarrassing consequences, but let's not go there.<br />
But on Tuesday night I was alone. Away on a retreat without my family and friends.<br />
<br />
I did, however, have Twitter and Facebook. And there I found the same shock and disbelief I was feeling. I found anger, love and compassion. And an almost immediate determination that the result of this vote will not be to diminish the ministry of women in the Church of England. And even some humour. Especially around gin.<br />
<br />
So, thank God once more for Twitter. This Extravert was not alone when she needed company the most.<br />
At <a href="http://www.newmediacentreofexcellence.org.uk/cnmac/conference" target="_blank">CNMAC</a> this year we chatted about relationships made over social media. Of course there are dangers. And we must be aware of those. But they are real, not virtual relationships and I valued them enormously this week.Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-89695783165699558982012-11-21T19:10:00.000+00:002012-11-21T19:10:20.407+00:00Painful Explanations<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvDH0NMZ05noCt8G7GwZDuxzCYaeoD8hBg1Qm99fli5L7xg4BZQ1NUYZ4HKK08lpkC2J5g69VYRBXxQRcPeF7utyyGY72w3E17EGh68mhpUErCvXDldMA5-YBirTT9mE5sFgsfzgZHpjo/s1600/20121121_185159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvDH0NMZ05noCt8G7GwZDuxzCYaeoD8hBg1Qm99fli5L7xg4BZQ1NUYZ4HKK08lpkC2J5g69VYRBXxQRcPeF7utyyGY72w3E17EGh68mhpUErCvXDldMA5-YBirTT9mE5sFgsfzgZHpjo/s400/20121121_185159.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My ordination stole and gift of Chalice and paten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At lunch time I had to do some of that explaining which Archbishop Rowan was talking about this morning. To a (secular) youth-worker in the secondary school where I am occasional chaplain. She was outraged that the Church could discriminate against women when her job was all about building up young people's confidence and encouraging them to fulfil their potential. Wasn't the Church in that kind of business too? So why limit the potential of 50% of the population?<br />
<br />
And then there was the dinner table conversation with my children this evening. Completely at a loss to understand why women can't be bishops.<br />
<br />
In both cases, I explained that the Church of England had actually decided that it did want women to be bishops. It decided that several years ago. Yesterday was not about that. It was about the particular legislation which would enable women to become Bishops. General Synod, did not decide by a large enough majority that the proposed legislation offered the kind of protection that those opposed felt they needed, if their theological positions were to be properly respected in a way that allowed them to remain in the Church of England.<br />
"Protection?!" exploded the youth worker. "Why does anyone feel they need protection from women in church?"<br />
<br />
As I tried to outline the theological positions, or at least how I understand them, to her, I realised how hollow I sounded.<br />
For you see, I have been sympathetic to those opposed to the ordination of women as priests (and therefore as bishops) I have read their statements and publications, many of them for an MA essay on the topic. I disagreed with them but felt with all my heart that one of the strengths of this church I have been called by God to serve in, is its very diversity. When we gain insights into God's character from other ways of worshipping and being, we are all enriched and gain a fuller picture of God.<br />
<br />
On a personal level, I find, for reasons that I don't entirely understand, that I am deeply wounded that my calling is a source of hurt to others who also seek to love and follow Jesus. Jesus himself didn't say anything much about bishops (or if he did, the evangelists didn't record it for posterity) but he had quite a lot to say about unity. And loving one another for his sake. And about looking after those on the margins and whom society rejects. Those, perhaps with different views to the majority, those perhaps who feel that they do not have a voice.<br />
<br />
So I really wanted to try to do that. I didn't add my name to the letter in the Independent because I wasn't sure that this was legislation that was the right legislation at the right time. I talked with my husband (who thinks I'm mad to worry about this) about my ambivalence towards the measure. I kept quiet and prayed.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAznnBwRFEgyBuEtJRlWsI-_yiMVCk2zMidhPsTnSvHMyR6yXY23tjH0AS69vJz7uXUj4IsqHfL2VghtDG5n8iaFTXF80CTRGUf4rS_FaNhe5E1Ic6XSpfS0nTS5RqamGDhlwSyZq_kLc/s1600/2012-11-17+18.24.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAznnBwRFEgyBuEtJRlWsI-_yiMVCk2zMidhPsTnSvHMyR6yXY23tjH0AS69vJz7uXUj4IsqHfL2VghtDG5n8iaFTXF80CTRGUf4rS_FaNhe5E1Ic6XSpfS0nTS5RqamGDhlwSyZq_kLc/s320/2012-11-17+18.24.47.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the recent church beetle drive someone (me) drew<br /> a female <i>scarabeus episcopus</i><br /></td></tr>
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The strength of my own reaction to the news of the defeated legislation has taken me entirely by surprise. In a way I kind of expected it to fail. Those opposed to the measure had been very good at getting representatives elected in the House of Laity where the required two-thirds majority was not reached. Suddenly, those on the margins, whose views and beliefs I have tried so hard to respect and hear had achieved what they wanted to achieve, and in doing so have left the majority of Synod and Church members feeling they are the voiceless ones on the margins.<br />
<br />
So, I've just read <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2012/nov/21/voted-against-female-bishops-planet-zog" target="_blank">Bishop Alan's article</a> and I think I may have been trying to be nice. And in trying to be nice I'm left explaining things I fundamentally disagree with to an incredulous youth-worker, who thinks that my ability to minister to young people, encouraging them to fulfil their God-given potential is fatally compromised; and also to my children who I otherwise encourage to know, love and serve God through his church.<br />
<br />
So I will continue to pray and wait and listen. And I will try to respond and offer explanations with grace, respect and love. But perhaps I may have a re-think about how much I need to go on holding the pain of others who will never agree with me.<br />
For right now, my own pain, and that of the vast majority of the Church of England is about all I can cope with.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For other, more intelligent views, and there are many more than these, but for a starteryou could do worse than <a href="http://nickbaines.wordpress.com/2012/11/21/synodical-fall-out/" target="_blank">Bishop Nick Baines</a>, <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/nov/20/women-bishops-vote-disaster-church-of-england?INTCMP=SRCH" target="_blank">Lucy Winkett</a>, <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/grace.html" target="_blank">my very articulate friend, Revd Claire</a> , <a href="http://kneewax.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">the priest who waxes his knees</a>, <a href="http://www.layanglicana.org/blog/2012/11/20/sackcloth-and-ashes-from-the-laity-what-next/" target="_blank">Laura the Lay Anglicana</a> and this very interesting piece by <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/9692363/Women-bishops-Did-feminism-undermine-the-campaign.htmll" target="_blank">Jemima Thackray</a><br />
<br />Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-82708134267871732192012-10-03T19:15:00.002+01:002012-10-03T19:15:53.178+01:00Adding to the chaosOK. So this is an excuse really. And it's probably a bit self-indulgent. But I thought I'd share with you one of the reasons blogging has taken a bit of a back seat recently.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiye7_83vnCwCqE-g7tnCASSfXZO8_LGSLK44ZnQ23JmN365WEDB47VrBcxOnRBgyqdoCzHQerIQsk9OQbRbcVjf6dWAIAdQqsA5qvixrIo3WXFEcYOR9oeAGwhLXY1Nr73UTIlvNDZzsg/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiye7_83vnCwCqE-g7tnCASSfXZO8_LGSLK44ZnQ23JmN365WEDB47VrBcxOnRBgyqdoCzHQerIQsk9OQbRbcVjf6dWAIAdQqsA5qvixrIo3WXFEcYOR9oeAGwhLXY1Nr73UTIlvNDZzsg/s320/027.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Meet Millie, our Golden Doodle. That's a cross between a Golden Retriever and a Poodle. This was her at about 3 months, not long after she arrived with us back in June.<br />
She joined our decidedly geriatric Golden Retriever, Holly. Holly will be 14 this month and although she's a bit creaky and slow still enjoys life (apart from the indignity of being played with by a six month old Golden Doodle) and after a number of scares in the last year now looks like she' might outlive us all...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZzYxJQyx3_CWi8zZ9GxYkLf0n9m-1hs2tCNVevsZBA_SlTj0kN8npsrtKJrWnOliWoy2pEzRK1yr3KTa8NsLX_Hc-zkUdOpJPwK3de6tyVkh1tlGyFZMl3pur5wk8FE0qakX6Xuy1KqE/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZzYxJQyx3_CWi8zZ9GxYkLf0n9m-1hs2tCNVevsZBA_SlTj0kN8npsrtKJrWnOliWoy2pEzRK1yr3KTa8NsLX_Hc-zkUdOpJPwK3de6tyVkh1tlGyFZMl3pur5wk8FE0qakX6Xuy1KqE/s400/005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsCex9vs-KCzi37yED3oOfceg99uwUG57yuyNZSNEkff2_X1uYTAX8UkHm3zxhQkDAQX9DcTadDZ0JiAb56pk6lHwkSFXSi0lK8Em0r3icDef0VOufOfZFnXKhekIYWNpHPNJ3SPT87s/s1600/2012-08-16+13.06.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsCex9vs-KCzi37yED3oOfceg99uwUG57yuyNZSNEkff2_X1uYTAX8UkHm3zxhQkDAQX9DcTadDZ0JiAb56pk6lHwkSFXSi0lK8Em0r3icDef0VOufOfZFnXKhekIYWNpHPNJ3SPT87s/s320/2012-08-16+13.06.11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a visit to the grooming parlour aged 5 months</td></tr>
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Millie is a lot bigger now. She loves to go to Southampton Common or the Sports Centre near where we live and run around like the mad things she is. We never intended to have two dogs. But a combination of circumstances meant that it seemed like now was a good time to add to the family - although on the face of it, you might think that the last thing I needed was a puppy.<br />
But there have been a number of benefits - the huge amount of fun we've had with her, especially when she was little (even now she is singing along to my daughter's cello practice) The children have spent less time watching TV as we've played with her, and taken her to training classes and I enjoy the opportunity for longer walks in the (now) Autumn air as they arise. Do feel free to remind me of that when it's pouring with rain and blowing a gale.<br />
<br />
Somehow in adding to the chaos, Millie has nonetheless enriched our lives and although she has been hard work, what worthwhile things in life aren't?Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-62872338312776244402012-09-24T14:48:00.004+01:002012-09-24T14:48:44.693+01:00After Mary's song...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A sermon for St Mary's Patronal festival. Preached on 9th September 2012.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I always get the best reactions from a narrative sermon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What did Mary say after singing her song? How did she explain it to others, to herself?</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Luke 1:46-55<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>My soul magnifies the
Lord! My Spirit leaps for joy in the God who is my Saviour!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Why did I sing that song?!
How? It came from my heart in an uncontrollable stream, as if the words were
given to me by God himself. My joy in the Lord felt like it would burst from my
body – and I suppose it did - in song. As I approached the house, I saw <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> – obviously
with child as my visitor had told me she would be.She cried out as she saw
me, feeling her baby leap within her. It seems to me that we have both been
richly blessed by God.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>But why?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city> is I suppose the wife of a <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Temple</st1:city></st1:place> priest so must have some importance in
God’s eyes. But me. I’m no-one. Just a young woman, and only just a woman. Unmarried,
living in a small country that was once great through God’s blessing but is now
ruled by a foreign army. I’m completely insignificant. A bit of a dreamer of
dreams perhaps. But nothing special.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>And yet I had that visitor who came and said such strange things - he told me that I have found favour
with God. In spite of my being the least important person I know, God has come
to me, chosen me even, to be the mother of a baby who will be a king
forever. A king, forever! This baby, the
visitor told me, will grow up to be called the Son of God himself! He’ll be the
fulfilment of all that God has promised to us since Abraham. Doesn’t that all
sound a bit crazy to you? It does to me too. But I have never been more certain
of anything in my whole life. That’s what makes it even more crazy! <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I know in my heart and
trust in God’s promise that this king will do great things. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>My son will do
great things. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>His kingdom will not be like the ones we know now – not even like
the great <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">kingdom</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">David</st1:placename></st1:place>. This new kingdom will be a place where those
who are powerful become as powerless as me. This kingdom - my son’s kingdom
will be a place where the thrones humans build are torn down and people who
have nothing, and who think of themselves as insignificant nobodies will
receive an abundant blessing from God. I know this for sure because God has
started already – with me.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>He has chosen me, such as
I am, to take part in something that seems impossible. No, not impossible, for
I know that cousin Elizabeth says, like our ancestors Sarah and Hannah, that
nothing is impossible with God. So, not impossible. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>But astonishing.
Miraculous. Amazing, wonderful - and rather awkward and difficult to explain. Especially
to your fiancé.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I can still see the hurt
and anger on Joseph’s face when I told him the visitor’s news about the baby
that I’ll have. The baby that will come directly from God, and not because of him
or any other man. And that it’s already inside me beginning to grow. As crazy
as it sounds, I know that it’s true, and I think Joseph wants to try to believe
it too. He’s a good man who fears the Lord. But his good reputation will be
damaged when my news gets out. And it will. I’m not going to be able to hide
this pregnancy forever. Joseph has said he has to think about what he’s going
to do. So I’ve come to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I wish Joseph could share
my joy in all this. But he is wise, and knows it’s not going to be easy for
either of us. People won’t believe that the baby is from God, and if Joseph
publicly says it’s not his, and sends me away, I don’t know what will happen. That
scares me.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I do believe that this is
all in God’s good plan – but I don’t know why his plan involves such pain, hurt
and rejection. Must the fulfilment of God’s promise to Abraham and his family
include such pain and disgrace for mine? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>But then this new kingdom
sounds like trouble. I don’t know much about anything, and nothing at all about
powerful people - except it seems that those who have power want to hang on to
it. And would not like having their thrones taken away from them – even by God.
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I’ve never been rich – I
can only imagine what it must be like, such comfort and luxury – no work, and servants
to look after the household chores. That all sounds great. But God’s new
kingdom will see rich people sent away with nothing. I do know what that’s
like, and it’s not fun. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>No. I’m guessing the rich
and powerful might not like this new kingdom. This revolutionary kingdom can surely
only come about at a price. And if the price of the birth of this new king is
rejection, humiliation and pain so that God’s mercy will be shown to the poor
and weak, then I will pay that price. And what’s more, I will teach my son to
do the same.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>For my joy in the Lord, my
song, comes from knowing the stories of God’s love and mercy taught in the
synagogues and in our families. I know that somehow I am a part of that story.
That God’s mercy and salvation and the blessing promised to Abraham will be
seen in a new way through the son I will have.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>My job is to bring this
new life, this precious, miraculous life into the world and nurture it so that
God’s will can be done. My son is not just for me. In a way I can’t explain, I
know he is for everyone. For God’s promise through Abraham is for all nations
and generations.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Perhaps some people will
think that they’re not important enough to be part of this kingdom. But that’s
not true. God will use the least important person I know to do an important job
for him. That’s me. <o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>You know, He could be
asking you to do something important too. You’re not too insignificant. Do you
want to be a part of God’s new kingdom of mercy, love and justice? </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Yes, it’s
possible for this kingdom to exist.<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>For nothing is impossible
with God. And that’s why I sing!</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The photograph is of a window in the Church at Taizé.</span></div>
Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-31655162723474442272012-09-23T15:28:00.003+01:002012-09-23T15:29:05.471+01:00Questions, questionsSometimes you plan something that you're a little wary of. Sometimes you wonder if it's really going to work. Sometimes you wonder at the last minute whether you really shouldn't change your mind and forget it altogether.<br />
<br />
Today was a bit like that.<br />
I was preaching in one of our churches - a small congregation, mostly elderly and mostly those who have worshipped in the church for many years. They are lovely people but concerned about the future of the church, and unsure where to begin to look for growth. Like many of us. they sometimes they don't like new things, and sometimes surprising them with something unusual doesn't work. So what I planned for my sermon today was a little risky and I nearly didn't do it. But I'm so glad I did.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSKSLdTUWkw0yfje_dXX8K3I2g5G_yA45I4re63jzbHBLJEyAJP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSKSLdTUWkw0yfje_dXX8K3I2g5G_yA45I4re63jzbHBLJEyAJP" width="212" /></a>Today's Gospel passage was Mark 9:30-37, and in these short verses there were many things I could have preached on. I even found my sermon from three years ago, preached in a very different setting and I enjoyed reading it - but it did not address the thing that was really standing out for me this week.<br />
"They [Jesus' disciples] did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him." (Mark 9:32 NRSV)<br />
<br />
I don't always use the internet for sermon preparation but when I do I often visit <a href="http://www.workingpreacher.org/default.aspx" target="_blank">Working Preacher</a> where the commentaries can be helpful (or, as is the case with most commentaries, unhelpful!) I was struck by one of the suggestions on there which was to get the congregation to be braver than Jesus' first disciples and ask him a question. So I handed out slips of paper and pens at the beginning of the service, and then preached on the importance of a questioning faith - a faith which seeks answers from God and trusts that He is big enough to take our questions in his stride. The I asked the congregation to write an anonymous question for Jesus on the slip of paper. The questions were collected<br />
in the offertory as a sign that as we bring our gifts in faith we also bring our questions to Jesus' table.<br />
<br />
After the service I took the questions home and sat at my desk to read them.<br />
<br />
I cried.<br />
<br />
I hadn't realised until I read them what a gift I was asking them to give. I was unprepared for their honesty, puzzlement, pain and insight, and for my own reaction to that. They range from the practical to the intellectual, and I felt humbled to be reading them. I wish I had easy answers, or indeed any answers for them. But I think that above all Jesus wants us to ask questions of him - about life as his followers - and that in asking the questions we are able to begin to live the answer.<br />
I'd love to know, and offer a hug and reassurance to the person who asked how what they did was important. I'd love to talk further with the person what asked why they found it so difficult to ask Jesus a question. I rage with the people who are dismayed and angry about suffering in the world and current levels of violence over matters of faith.<br />
<br />
And I will. Perhaps not directly but this has given me such an insight into God's precious people in that church and their concerns that I hope we will address at least some of them in preaching to come, and as we discuss a possible year of mission for our 80th birthday.<br />
<br />
I am hugely grateful for the promptings of the Spirit who I'm sure gave me the courage to see my slightly mad idea through, and to the congregation who have trusted me enough to share what's on their minds and hearts before God. <br />
So, what question would you ask?Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-46053173801728690162012-09-23T14:51:00.000+01:002012-09-23T14:51:08.332+01:00New beginnings and writer's blockSo, it's been a while. I am sorry about that. Part of me has missed blogging but a larger part has had something of a crisis of confidence. And so I have used the general chaotic nature of my life as an excuse - I don't have time to blog.<br />
<br />
But of course what we have time for depends on our priorities and I guess that blogging became less of a priority for me. And so I stopped. And after a while, it became harder to re-start. I wasn't convinced that I had anything to say.<br />
But September arrives with all its shiny newness amidst the fading summer. New shoes and pencil cases and in our house a complete new uniform, and routine as my daughter started secondary school. All of that went well - at least so far, and so I began to wonder if I shouldn't do something about this blog. Its bookmark has been staring at me rather balefully from the toolbar of my browser, feeling a little unloved.<br />
And of course as soon as I started to think that I might give this another go (with the encouragement of family and friends) something inside of me was released and I find that I have several blog posts in me just needing to be posted.<br />
So as the chaos of my life takes a new shape this Autumn, with changes in schooling and my husband's work pattern, we'll see if this moves up my priority list. I want it to, and so that's probably the key.Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-64815374692407457982012-04-07T10:36:00.000+01:002012-04-07T10:36:27.445+01:00Were you there? A Good Friday reflection<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">(Sung) Were you there when they
crucified my Lord?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"> Were
you there when they crucified my Lord?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"> Oh
sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">tremble,</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"> Were
you there when they crucified my Lord?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were </span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">you there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Not many
were at the end. Some women, one of his friends. Perhaps the rest all finally
understood where all this <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Kingdom</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">God</st1:placename></st1:place> stuff was going.
And how it could be their turn to be arrested next. They were frightened.
Disappointed. Wracked with guilt by their betrayal, cowardice or denial. They
finally got it – following Jesus was not going to make them popular. It was
even going to be dangerous. So they left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">But didn’t
he tell them that whoever followed him was going to face insult, persecution,
opposition from their own families, never mind the religious authorities? Didn’t
he say that if you wanted to follow him you had to take up your own cross? If
you <b>were </b>there, you could now see
exactly how that might work out. I’m not surprised that so many left the scene.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Following
Jesus, living in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Kingdom</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">God</st1:placename></st1:place> means standing up
for the weakest and the voiceless. The poor, and sick, certainly, but how about
the asylum seekers. The prisoners. The drug addicts, the trafficked
sex-workers. You can just see how much trouble that lot could get you into. Do
we still run away from it all?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were </span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">you there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were <b>you </b>there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Was it
you who stood at the foot of the cross? Your true self, I mean. Not the one we
put on for others. But the self we don’t need to put on before God. Or, even at
the foot of the cross where all is laid bare, the depths of human fear, hatred
and cruelty are exposed, are you hiding behind a mask of respectability? Perhaps
frightened to drop the mask – if I reveal my true self, if people knew what I
was <i>really</i> like, they would hate me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">And yet,
at the cross we find acceptance of our true self. The you that you hide is
there accepted by Jesus as he opens wide those everlasting arms of love. The
you that you yourself don’t much like is forgiven, redeemed and transformed. But
you need to know that God loves you imperfect as you are in order for the
transformative love to take effect. If we are forever hiding behind our mask of
respectability, even at the foot of the cross, then we will never fully grasp
the possibility of abundant life that Jesus offers. Last night we heard that unless
we are washed by Jesus we have no part in him. And how can he wash that which
we do not show?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were <b>you </b>there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were you <b>there?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Really
there, I mean. Did you see that ruined body, a man in his prime bloody and
beaten from wounds that might kill him anyway staggering through the streets
carrying a huge piece of wood? Were you there as he was first laid down, then
nailed down, then hoisted up? Were you there as the nails were driven through
flesh to find wood? Did you hear, see and smell the agony of slow suffocation?
Did you hear the mocking voices? See the utter humiliation, degradation, not to
mention the agonising pain? The physical pain of the cruellest of deaths, and
the emotional pain of abandonment and desolation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Yet, were
you there to hear his words? Words creating a new family. Words expressing a
human need. Words of accomplishment. Were you there to hear those words– the
smallest hint of hope for the future, of life beyond this dark day. But perhaps
for you lost in the unspeakable horror of it all until afterwards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were you <b>there?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Were you
there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">We were
all there. Whether we like it or not, we were all there. Every wrong thing
we’ve done, every kind thing left undone, every cruel or mocking word we’ve
ever said, every time we held back praise, affirmation or kindness. They were
all there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">And so
were we. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">The worst
parts of our humanity. Made clean by this terrible death. The inexplicable
wonder of God nailed to a cross, taking all the world’s hurts and pain on
himself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">We were
all there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">(Sung) Were you there when they
crucified my Lord?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"> Were
you there when they crucified my Lord?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;">Oh sometimes it
causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13pt;"> Were
you there when they crucified my Lord?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-13258279629431709432012-03-19T13:43:00.002+00:002012-04-07T10:35:34.519+01:00A Chaos scale<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeOk1QbRgo2ZsJTxq0ArAhVnTV4PY9x0yNmPOc9P-epB46s_WUNJquAKYCcKdBU-1AM6caRmPaSJd1cWr8TPC0yKCuciVBpA1Z-58U39FynNgvwuagFD4WOLW2tNnxOPmkLdOkyne4m4/s1600/richter-scale.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeOk1QbRgo2ZsJTxq0ArAhVnTV4PY9x0yNmPOc9P-epB46s_WUNJquAKYCcKdBU-1AM6caRmPaSJd1cWr8TPC0yKCuciVBpA1Z-58U39FynNgvwuagFD4WOLW2tNnxOPmkLdOkyne4m4/s200/richter-scale.gif" width="152" /></a>I've been thinking about defining a chaos scale. Kind of like the Richter scale for earthquakes or the Beaufort scale for wind.<br />
<br />
Last week in particular was very busy. With my training incumbent away, the phone calls to the vicarage come through to me, and last week it was very busy on the phone. It seems that now spring is here, thoughts of many people around here are turning to Baptisms, and it was my smart idea to suggest that clergy visit soon after an initial Baptism enquiry is made (along the lines of the Weddings Project suggestion for weddings) Previously, the office took the booking but we may not visit the family for many months depending on how far in advance the Baptism was booked.<br />
This week, I've done five visits.<br />
That registers highly on the chaos scale as it eats into other time I may have available for preparation for other things. But it's all about building good relationships and I really enjoy it.<br />
<br />
Some fruits of this approach were evident at yesterday's family service. We had over 60 people in church - around two dozen children, and there were three families there who have recently started coming regularly following the Baptism of their children.<br />
The service itself registered quite high on the chaos scale - with all those children around, there's a certainly inevitablility to that. But they were mostly engaged and had plenty to do in the service which seemed to help. The giving of Communion was less ordered than usual but no-one seemed to mind, and I was really pleased that a Banns family came to the altar for a blessing as they prepare for their wedding in a few weeks. There was a lovely atmosphere and we are blessed with having the kind of old(er) ladies who really like having a lively service for families and not the kind I have met elsewhere who might otherwise complain.....<br />
<br />
So if my scale of chaos is to reflect anything, it will probably reflect when I have time to blog. Infrequently just now, but I hope to redress that this week, which, at the moment has (deliberately) fewer appointments and (fortuitously) no sermon to preach on Sunday.<br />
<br />
I'll keep thinking about how I'd like to express my chaos scale, but feel free to make suggestions!<br />
<br />
Although it has been busy, I did want to share some moments where I felt the chaos was particularly hallowed. For God is there to be found anywhere anyone chooses to look.<br />
<br />
A fantastic concert by my son's school...... a lovely Communion in a sheltered housing complex...... a very moving hospital visit with a man with dementia - as he struggled to remember his wife's death, and wept for her, he paused and uttered a prayer from his heart, "Lord, help me!".......... some laughs with the Cubs as they talked about objects in the church...... praying with a dying man..... the peace of the 8 o'clock Communion service on Sunday.<br />
<br />
So, tired but blessed, I continue to embrace such hallowed chaos.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Image of Richter scale via </i><a href="http://mishunderstanding.wordpress.com/2011/01/23/what-is-the-richter-scale/">http://mishunderstanding.wordpress.com/2011/01/23/what-is-the-richter-scale/</a>Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-79055278662403044132012-03-13T15:30:00.001+00:002012-03-13T15:30:22.438+00:00Noise from the shallow endI came across a quote today that I rather like. Attributed to <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/obituary-canon-bill-vanstone-1079750.html" target="_blank">Canon Bill Vanstone</a>, the Church (of England) is likened to a swimming pool where all the noise comes from the shallow end.<br />
Others may have heard this already but it's new to me, and I can't help thinking how apt it remains. There's lots of noise at the moment surrounding the church on issues of gay marriage, wearing of crosses, and our response to the economic situation. But is there any depth to our thinking on the subject?<br />
This challenges me about the depth (or lack of depth) of my own spirituality - especially in Lent when I've been trying, through the chaos, to do some proper reading. I feel that often I merely paddle in the shallow end of the pool instead of plunging into the depths of God. And as a consequence, I can find myself feeling ill-equipped to comment or think about the issues that face the church and the world today.<br />
No particular conclusions about this at the moment, except that I need to be doing more praying, thinking and meditating on God's Word so that I can take a few more steps towards the deep end of the pool.Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-11725620751530829272012-03-06T20:25:00.004+00:002012-03-06T20:25:34.925+00:00Forgiven at the cross<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZObUo_HZ3heGRq7IZ2Z8ijA9Piif4r2ezgo12lzP2o7GrLmRmV_GriedE__ixcfOqdCi1FmNCMiVQhbR1ceYJFO3HrhdQMGm9h1uK8vRaiNOEy0NdLjpbnY6h75dyfJ-P7WUjTRDsC5I/s1600/4th+March+wordle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZObUo_HZ3heGRq7IZ2Z8ijA9Piif4r2ezgo12lzP2o7GrLmRmV_GriedE__ixcfOqdCi1FmNCMiVQhbR1ceYJFO3HrhdQMGm9h1uK8vRaiNOEy0NdLjpbnY6h75dyfJ-P7WUjTRDsC5I/s400/4th+March+wordle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
A wordle of last Sunday's sermon which was very well received. At least half the congregation (of 20!) told me how powerful it was. For Lent we're focussing on aspects of the cross, rather than preaching from the readings, so this week I preached on the cross as forgiveness. That's a big thing for me as my MA dissertation was about forgiveness in the Criminal Justice system. This was as a result of a placement in a prison when the Chaplaincy was running a restorative justice course. Seeing prisoners face up to their offences, some for the first time in more than 10 years inside was incredibly moving, and convinced me of the power of asking for and receiving forgiveness. It is forgiveness that allows us to move on from past hurts. Ann Lewin, poet and liturgist talks about forgiveness - not as forgetting but as remembering differently. The sting is removed from the memory.<br />
In Jesus' death our sins are forgiven, and we are made whole. It is part of our Christian discipleship to learn to forgive others - and I don;t want to under-state how hard that is -to the point of seeming impossibility. But forgiving another frees us from hurts which might otherwise dominate our present and shape our future. Someone described failing to forgive as being like allowing someone to live rent-free in your head. Forgiveness also offers a new opportunity for the forgiven offender to imagine a new life which is not dictated by the past. This is what Christians believe is offered to them in Jesus' death and resurrection. And this is the good news we're called to share.<br />
I'm always interested in the work of <a href="http://theforgivenessproject.com/" target="_blank">The Forgiveness Project</a>, the reconciliation ministry of <a href="http://www.coventrycathedral.org.uk/about-us/our-reconciliation-ministry.php" target="_blank">Coventry Cathedral</a>, and <a href="http://stethelburgas.org/" target="_blank">St Ethelberga's</a>. Any more I should know about?Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1008043705075318777.post-14127708932249997912012-03-02T16:21:00.003+00:002012-03-02T16:21:57.581+00:00Women's World Day of Prayer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hPlR95YTsyloc4E2o8Vr-TVilo2YuUa69nTUmfa5PR02dBAmde02uPYqmzf6iz0kyH0yeIuPVpOUDrT34tjHQFxAUw4_UfXVtaEMwuuiO1k_ap7bajM_66UUE-_Z8uRgbXbW3XjqeLo/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hPlR95YTsyloc4E2o8Vr-TVilo2YuUa69nTUmfa5PR02dBAmde02uPYqmzf6iz0kyH0yeIuPVpOUDrT34tjHQFxAUw4_UfXVtaEMwuuiO1k_ap7bajM_66UUE-_Z8uRgbXbW3XjqeLo/s320/007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Well, I was going to blog about this but my friend <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.com/2012/03/womens-world-day-of-prayer.html" target="_blank">Revd Claire</a> got there first and has said much of what I wanted to say. So, check it out!<br />
Today's service was prepared by the women of Malaysia and had as it's theme "Let Justice Prevail."<br />
<br />
I remember this service from when I was a child, and little seems to have changed. As an act of worship, I'm afraid I still find it wordy, and bitty, with too many elements.<br />
But I think it's more the fact that it only appeals to a small section of our congregation, that concerns me. It is actively avoided by men (at least where I am - I was ridiculed for suggesting in a magazine article that the service should be attended by men as well as women) Why should something as important as praying for justice to prevail not be a concern to all of humanity, not just half of us? It still feels slightly (and I could be wrong) as if the women are being allowed to go and have their little service while the men do other, more important stuff.<br />
That's not to say that I don't see the value of a group of women getting together to achieve something. I was a Guider for many years so firmly believe that there is a place for women-only spaces. I'm just not sure that this is one that I particularly feel comfortable in.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cKvxtQZs6GTuU3yhejzn3T0z-yW9ydXAVEIDoDtgmI6QZ0vDxKbBrUw6AZeZ2EnV7PHWOCtZzF2oeeEe4sCaNAzqGQqt9KzwwqXzMPVJTIuBbFWaaFfU8vhIIPlPZGBBsxjH8cNVH-k/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cKvxtQZs6GTuU3yhejzn3T0z-yW9ydXAVEIDoDtgmI6QZ0vDxKbBrUw6AZeZ2EnV7PHWOCtZzF2oeeEe4sCaNAzqGQqt9KzwwqXzMPVJTIuBbFWaaFfU8vhIIPlPZGBBsxjH8cNVH-k/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /></a>Having said all that, there were some really positive moments today- and here's a picture of some of the props that were made - these lovely butterflies to remind us of the colours of Malaysia.<br />
I also love the thought that as our service finished, another one somewhere in the world was just beginning, and that we took up where someone else left off.<br />
And I had a great conversation with a Roman Catholic lady who is in favour of the ordination of women and who was a bit upset by the arrival in the RC church of former Anglicans in the Ordinariate.<br />
<br />
So, perhaps as an act of female solidarity, it's worth retaining, but perhaps also the ultimate goal should be that eventually the whole of God's people would recognise that issues that affect women require all of God's people to pray and act - not just the female half.<br />
Claire feels ambivalent about this - and so do I. You?<br />
<br />Sheenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15441969132168345028noreply@blogger.com4