Oh my, the manse broadband doesn't like 7 p.m. on a Monday, it seems!  Thankfully, someone else was able to take over the Zoom controls, and it all came out in the wash, with me reading my script into a landline!  Huge thanks to A and H who saved the day!!

So, for anyone who is interested, here it in full (WGRG sources acknowledged as appropriate)

Opening Sentences (From ‘Eggs and Ashes’)

Jesus Christ, our Saviour and our Friend

We tell your story

And we follow in your footsteps

Lead us into Holy Week

We walk towards the city

We wait in the garden

Lead us onto holy ground

We journey towards death

We hope for resurrection

Lead us into holy joy

A reading from the gospel of Matthew

(Matthew 21: 12 – 13)

Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying there. He overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, ‘It is written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all people”; but you are making it a den of robbers.’

Music for Reflection

Poem ‘It was on the …’ (adapted from Wild Goose Resources Group)

It was on the Monday
that religion got in the way.

An outsider might have thought
that it was a closing down sale at Pets at Home –

Or panic buying the night before the Covid-19 Lock Down.
And the outsider, in some ways,
wouldn’t have been far wrong.

Only, it wasn’t dog food or cat litter, not even household pets,
it was pigeons and sheep that were being purchased.
And it wasn’t a closing down sale or the eve of Lock Down;
it was a rip-off stall in a holy temple, bartering birds for sacrifice.

And the price was something only the rich could afford.
No discounts, no vouchers,

No dedicated time for people who were older in years,

No priority access for NHS staff or Key Workers.

Then He…
the holiest man on earth,
went through the bizarre bazaar
Scattering coins and smashing tables.

The doves were liberated -
and the pigeon sellers got angry.

The officials went crazy
and the ordinary people stood outside and clapped as one,
because he was making a sign -
that God was for everybody,
not just for those who could afford him.

He turned the tables on Monday…
The day that religion got in the way

Music for Reflection

Responsive Action

Whether it is the money changers in the Temple, the widow using her last farthing to pay her Temple taxes, the loaded question religious officials asked about state taxation, or the thirty pieces of silver judged to be the worth of a human life, stories about money occur through the Holy Week narrative as told by the gospel writers.

Just for a few moments, we are invited to hold in our hands a coin or a bank card and allow it to inform our reflections…

I wonder what this object represents for you, and your own relationship with money…? 

I wonder what questions might arise as you call to mind the way that the love of money had undermined the purpose of the Jerusalem temple…?

I wonder what questions around taxation, about poverty, or about the value of human life arise within you…?

In this strange time, as we stay at home, as we shop online, as we use contactless payment, as we wrestle with huge questions about wealth and poverty, what might Jesus want to say to us…?  

Closing Prayer

Table-turning God,

On this Monday we pray that neither religion nor money get in the way

In this strange time, we pray for all whose work is in the retail supply chain for the essentials we need (and the treats we crave) in farms and factories, distribution centres and warehouses, who drive lorries and stack shelves, oversee queues and try to prioritise those in greatest need.

We pray for those who find themselves excluded, marginalised or rejected because of who they are, help us tear down barriers, literal and metaphorical, that all may find their home in you.  

Aware of our own relative wealth, and the opportunities and responsibilities that brings, show us how we may be as Christ to others at this time.

As our journey through Holy Week continues

As we follow in your footsteps

From the Temple through the city,

Into the garden and towards the cross

Jesus, now lead on

Amen.

A couple of years ago, a friend suggested I read a book called Canoeing the Mountains  which was based on the premise that the church has travelled the length of the 'river' and is now faced with 'mountains'.  The key message, as I recall, is that if ministers/leaders want their congregations to follow them 'off piste', they need first to establish good relationships and practices in the 'known.'

Global events have brought us all to uncharted territory, whether its a mountain or other domain is not so important as whether we have the basics in place to journey together .  This isn't about being tech savvy, nor is it about slick online services, it's about the ground work we did over past years.

Way, way, back, I reckon about forty years ago, there was a commonly cited tale used by evangelists... an old man lay dying and his three sons came to say their farewells.  Finally, one of them, a 'born again Christian' asked his father if he was 'saved'.  'Aye, he replied, I thatched the roof when the weather was good.'

I think that we, as a church community have a pretty good thatched roof - decades of shared responsbility for pastoral care, a culture where it's OK to try something that doesn't work out, a commitment to collaborative working where possible.  We aren't perfect, but it's a pretty good roof to help us weather this storm.

No-one knows how long this journey will take, or what twists and turns it will involve, but we shoulder our canoes as we slog up the mountain paths, and the thatched umbrellas/parasols help keep us reasonably dry as we do so!

One day, we will turn around, and look back, awed at the journey we have travelled - but for now, it's one day at a time, one step at a time, trusting that God is with us.

There is a famous piece of Glasgow art called 'Windows on the West' which features a blonde sandstone tenement. Most of the tenements I pass are red sandstone, and several have some rather beautiful original coloured glass windows.  This morning, my early permitted exercise involved much intentional 'looking up' and enjoying the diversity of windows and other decorative features on these Victorian buildings.

Looking upwards almost always beats looking downwards, and today was no exception.

At the start of Lent, I hoped that a craft group would be able to meet and create something or some things for Easter worship.  Events overtook those plans, but some of the crafting got done anyway.

Yesterday, I dismantled (tore bits of of) the poster/banner for Palm Sunday and used parts of it to make a bit of a window display - along with the rainbows I already had.

I took it down this morning, but I reckon it worked quite well for the day it was there - now just pondering what to do for Good Friday and Easter...

I went out early, just after 7 a.m., for a walk of roughly 3 miles/5 km, not expecting to see many people.  And whilst it wasn't busy, it certainly wasn't quiet...

I turn right from the gate, and across the road, is somone, similarly clad in coat, hat and gloves, striding the other way.  We wave and smile.

I start up the hill, towards the Secondary School, and approaching me, in a high-viz hjacket is someone who won't step left or right, so I move into the road.  They issue a repost, 'A've no go the virus...'  Good, I think, and stride onwards, wondering if they don't understand.

Outside the convenience shop, two young adults wheel a cage of supplies towards the door.  I hang back, giving them room.  'Morning' they say cherrily.  'Thank you for being open' I reply. We all smile.

At the traffic lights I turn right, spotting a lycra clad jogger ahead of me.  We execute a balletic pas-de-deux; they thank me, we smile and go on our way.

I pass the play park, the primary school, and notice the streets start to fill up with dog-walkers, people buying their daily paper or going to work.  We nod, and negotiate the distancing as if carefully choreographed in advance.

I duck through a couple of side-streets, having paused to photograph some beautiful jib-cranes (it takes all sorts!)

Back on the main road, and I see two people chatting outside a convenience shop, clearly not from the same household, and clearly not two metres apart.  As I step into the road to pass them, they spot an approaching police car and step apart on the pavement. I chuckle to myself.

Another right turn, and I pass the retail park.  Ahead of me I glimspe the familiar form of one of the supermarket check out staff, heading in to work.  I glance across and see the queue of early shoppers waitng to go in.  I give thanks for those who keep us fed at this time.

I near the bus shelter and a person meanders down the centre of the pavement, eyes fixed on a phone, tapping with thier thumbs.  They don't even notice as I step into the road.

Almost home and I see a neighbour in a bright floral coat.  We stand in the road, a large gap between us (more like 3m than 2m!) and catch up, before they head to the shops.

I pass through the back gate, cross the car park, in the back door and up the stairs.  At my own front door, I doff gloves, hat, coat, shoes; I wash my keys, wipe my phone and head to the shower.

I have seen all sorts of people, handling this strange situation in all sort of ways.

I am blessed to be permitted to go out for a walk. 

I will pas-de-deux; I will smile and nod; I will breath in clean air; I will be grateful... and I will try to be gracious to those whose reponse I don't understand.