One of my abiding memories of my first visit to meet the church in Glasgow was the abundance of beautiful rhododendrons in full bloom at the end of April. For whatever reason, in Glasgow they bloom early... and are always beautiful.
My garden here in Cheshire has a singe rhododendron, and now in mid May it's coming into bloom, and it, too, is beautiful.
So I remember, and I rejoice... so many good memories of so many special times and well-loved people (and yes, there were a few 'moments' of course there were)... and I am grateful.
On Tuesday I was meant to lead worship at college, but Covid stranded me at home. On Sunday, one way or another, I will leading worship for church. Both draw on some of the same resources to think about the Ascension, and mostly, what's the 'so what' of it.
I've used the Dali image (above) along with this poem, which I stumbled across whilst looking for the image:
When he levitated toward the sunflower sun Christ’s toes were perfect. Not a hint of hallux varus or valgus, not a speck of fungus. His soles were filthy, of course, like ours. He’d been out strolling for miles. And we stood stupid. Waved like he was going on safari or an Aegean cruise. Still wearing the little loincloth. Nothing else to weigh him down. No ballast. Hands clutching everyone, everything, invisible zero G baggage.
Later, when burning seeds rained down and pigeon feathers bleated fugues, we remembered. All of it.
The one significant 'beef' I have with the Dali is that Jesus doesn't have wounded feet. They are dusty, but they are unblemished... where are the crucifixion marks? I won't be majoring on this on Sunday, that's not why I'm showing the image or using the poem, but it matters to me that the resurrected Christ is scarred, wounded, permanently marked by the experience. Matters because it fits the scriptural record, and matters because we are all wounded, all injured, marked, hurt and vulnerable - and we need a saviour who actually 'gets it'.
Today is the commemoration of Julian of Norwich, and some of my minister friends will be meeting to discuss the book pictured above. The dreaded Covid means I won't be with them, ah well, I have kitties, and books, and time to rest, all of which, I am sure, she would approve.
Speaking of Covid, during Lockdown 1, I was invited to join two other people, wise C of S ministers, to write some 'Julian Collects' a project based on Revelations of Divine Love. We never quite completed the project, but we had some fun, and I still have the 10 I wrote stored on my computer!
As we sit close to Ascension and Trinity, this one seems fairly appropriate to share here...
DAY 24
God opened my spiritual sight and showed me my spirit in my heart. The spirit is as large as an eternal world and a blessed realm as well. And the greatest light and the brightest shining in the city of spirit is God’s glorious love. What can allow us to take more delight in God than to see that he takes delight in us, the greatest of all his creatures? In this same vision I saw that if the blessed Trinity could have made our spirit any better, more beautiful, or more noble, God would not have been pleased and satisfied with our creation. But because God has made us so beautiful, so good, so precious, God is infinitely delighted in the creation of our spirit. And the Trinity wishes us to be transported up above all this world and all its empty suffering, to delight in God. This delicious revelation is without end. And God would like us to rest in it while we are still on earth. For when we contemplate we are made like unto God. And through grace we are united in his peace. That I saw God sitting gave me special delight, for sitting implies sure confidence and an eternal dwelling of rest. God assured me that it was indeed he who had shown me all of this.
