Ok

By continuing your visit to this site, you accept the use of cookies. These ensure the smooth running of our services. Learn more.

A Skinny Fairtrade Latte in the Food Court of Life - Page 299

  • Pray for...

    Every few days it seems there is a new hashtag or temporary, social media, profile picture 'cast' along the lines of 'pray for the-latest-place-to-have-a-tragedy'.

    And I totally understand why people use them, because rendered helpless but whatever it may be, this is something that anyone can do. 

    But pray what, exactly?

    It troubles me not just because I am not sure what to pray - let there be peace/healing/reconciliation/justice etc - but because I am not sure it isn't just a sop to our own consciences.  We utter a quick prayer and go back to our own world.

    What is needed is not so much to 'type the prayer' but to 'be the prayer' - and that's much harder.  Because it inevitably means being selective, taking a standpoint, doing something other than wringing our hands or sighing holy sighs; it means accepting we cannot do everything whilst recognising that we must do something.

    What might I do, small and local, that lives out that prayer?  Pray for [insert name] by all means, but, if I may plagiarise the book of James, prayer, like faith, without deeds, is as good as dead.

  • Apple Christening Day

    My Dad always called St Swithin's Day 'Apple Christening Day'.  I never gave it any thought until today when my neighbour observed that it was St Swithin's Day and it had been raining a lot all day.

    A bit of googling and it seems my Dad was not alone in this practice - and that rain on St Swithin's Day was sometimes seen as christening the apples... I guess there may be a corelation between rain in mid July and a good harvest of apples, but I haven't checked.

    It more reminded me of the lore that every family has, with sayings and associations that mean little or nothing to others.  Not so very different from churches or the Church then...

    May the apples be blessed with sweet juiciness... and can we not have another 39 wet days straight!

  • Unexpectedly Intriguing!

    One of the things I enjoy about preparing sermons is their propensity to take me in directions I had not anticipated, or to make links that I had never before made.

    So, I am intrigued that for the second week running I have made links between the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew and the I Am sayings in John.  No doubt loads of poeple have done this before, but it is intriguing me, at least as long as it works (which may not be much longer, but it's been fun!).

    This Sunday will be 'I am the Gate" which is intriguing for all sorts of reasons.  Hope I can communicate something of what it's got me thinking about!

  • Grandsons and Grannies...

    This poem...

    Grannie

     by Vernon Scannell

     

    I stayed with her when I was six then went

    To live elsewhere when I was eight years old.

    For ages I remembered her faint scent

    Of lavender, the way she'd never scold

    No matter what I'd done, and most of all

    The way her smile seemed, somehow, to enfold

    My whole world like a warm, protective shawl.

     

    I knew that I was safe when she was near,

    She was so tall, so wide, so large, she would

    Stand mountainous between me and my fear,

    Yet oh, so gentle, and she understood

    Every hope and dream I ever had.

    She praised me lavishly when I was good,

    But never punished me when I was bad.

     

    Years later war broke out and I became

    A soldier and was wounded while in France.

    Back home in hospital, still very lame,

    I realised suddenly that circumstance

    Had brought me close to that small town where she

    Was living still. And so I seized the chance

    To write and ask if she could visit me.

     

    She came. And I still vividly recall

    The shock that I received when she appeared

    That dark cold day. Huge grannie was so small!

    A tiny, frail, old lady. It was weird.

    She hobbled through the ward to where I lay

    And drew quite close, and, hesitating, peered.

    And then she smiled: and love lit up the day.

     

    And this video...
     

  • Old Love...

    Yesterday evening's service was a sort of reflection on old age and included poems, video clips and some thoughts from me.  Here is the first of two posts sharing some of that material.

    This short passage has been chosen by a young couple whose wedding I will be conducting in September... it is just beautiful...

     

    The Beauty of Love (Anon)

    The question is asked; "Is there anything more beautiful in life than a young couple clasping hands and pure hearts in the path of marriage? Can there be anything more beautiful than young love?"
     
    And the answer is given: "Yes, there is a more beautiful thing."
    "It is the spectacle of an old man and an old woman finishing their journey together on that path. Their hands are gnarled but still clasped; their faces are seamed but still radiant; their hearts are physically bowed and tired but still strong wth love and devotion. Yes, there is a more beautiful thing than young love. Old love."
     
    And this video of a song based on another powm (note the subtitles have an error near the end where the word 'gone' should actaully be 'gaunt')