Today's poem is Annunciation by the Scottish poet Edwin Muir.  This well-loved poem is widely available, e.g. here

The painting by Fra Angelico is also very well known, and seems to connect quite well with the images evoked by the poem.

Here's the prayer...

God whose Messenger met Mary,

As we recall this familiar, mysterious, unnerving encounter,

An extraordinary intervention into an ordinary day,

So the artist and the poet invite us to gaze deep into the eyes

Of those you send to us - angels in disguise perhaps -

And then to make our own response...

Help us have the courage to say, 'yes'

Amen

(No, I didn't know it was a 'thing' either)

Thought I had better oblige.

It is a fundraiser for the charity Save the Children, so I made a small donation.

Looking forward to our own Christmas Jumper day(s) on Zoom!

A cuddle in a cup - well, for one person per household anyway!  Hopefully no significant squabbles will arise over who gets this treat.

As 'Love' week draws towards its close, a little bit of self-love and self-care seems a good thing.

And this is also Fairtrade, so we can feel good about ourselves as we enjoy this treat!!

Today's poem is The God by R S Thomas - unfortunately I can't seem to locate it online.

It speaks of the God of poets, musicians, artists, scientists and theologians... and the God who is.

It is a delightful and thoughtful poem, that draws the reader/hearer to reflect on their own images and understandings of the divine, and their inevitable partiality.

The prayer...

God of poets and musicians and artists,

God of scientists and theologians -

God who delights in diversity

Who restores what is dried up and decayed,

Help us to delight in who we are

And to be reassured that you delight in our flourishing

Amen.

This morning, I was inside a church building for the first time since February, and leading 'in person' worship for the first time since 15 March 2020.  The University of Glasgow Chapel , morning prayer, 8:45 Monday to Friday, in a blended format.

In the chapel were four other people, spread so far apart that there was a minimum of 5m between any two of them.  Online about half a dozen others on Zoom.

My overriding feeling was of strangeness... no joy or delight at being in a building, and also no fear or anxiety, it was just very odd.

Where should I look?  At the webcam, on a laptop on a table set just too low?  At the person to my left, or my right, or in the top tier seating or the far away pew?  How did it become meaningful for those taking part? Should I close my eyes to pray (I always pray  extempore in the chapel) or not? And if yes or if no, then what?

It was a very valuable experience, illustrating some of the challenges of blended models, much to ponder and learn from.