Yesterday I went to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotelabout which I have heard only extremely positive remarks.  So, either I have well and truly missed the point, or I am very old-fashioned or it is, as I deduced in places cringingly racist.  I don't find it funny to see racism portrayed in a c21 context, and I was thrown when the entire cinema audience (so far as I could tell) except me roared with laughter at the racist bits.  The story line wasn't exactly profound, and the few bits that did make me chuckle seemed lost on the rest of the audience.  So, there you go.  Either I'm a grumpy old woman or I missed the point or - just possibly - the film is not anywhere near as good as others think.

So, almost half way through Lent - how is it going for you?  Are your abstentions intact?  Are your undertakings being undertaken?  Do you feel as though you are drawing closer to Calvary?

Today's readings:

Psalm 84
2 Chronicles 29:1-11, 16-19
Hebrews 9:23-28

The same lovely psalm as yesterday, an account of spring cleaning in the Temple and Jesus as the sin sacrifice once and for all.  It seems, thus far, that there may be a bit of a Temple theme running through this week, but as I don't read on, I won't know until the days unfold.

Hezekiah, one of the 'good guys' orders that the Temple be cleaned, all the profane stuff removed, all the scared stuff cleaned, repaired and then, in due course, rededicated.  I suppose the question this raises has to be around the clutter that accumulates, literally and figuratively, in churches and in in lives, and how that which is 'sacred' or precious gets grubby, battered and neglected along the way.  There's a balance to be struck between worshipping our buildings and being poor stewards of what has been entrusted to us; a balance between pure functionality and over sacralisation.

It is Sunday in Dibley, whoever is on 'unlocking duty' arrives, opens the steel cupboard and lifts down the table cloth, the cross, the Bible, the arrangement of artificial flowers.  The banners are carefully hung up on the climbing frame or the picture rail.  If it is Communion Sunday a lovingly crocheted cloth adorns the table, homemade bread is placed on the metal platter and the trays of glasses stand ready.  Chairs are arranged, people gather, a sacred space, if such language is desired, is created, fleetingly.

And it is Sunday on the Gathering Place.  Whilst most still sleep, the chairs are hauled from the store cupboard and arranged.  The table is wheeled to its place and draped in colourful African cloth, a gift from a former member.   A silver chalice, from a former church plant, a brass lectern bearing a Bible, and a celtic cross form a visual focus; behind them hang simple drapes in liturgical colours.  For Communion Sunday a starched white cloth replaces the vibrancy of Africa, a large, round loaf sits on a silver plate, the chalic eis filled and trays of glasses wait to be shared.  People arrive, making scared this space, however fleetingly.

For me, this is about as 'sacred spacey' as it gets, I'm not even vaguely sacramental.  The sacredness, whatever that is meant to mean, arises among the people who imbue their objects with meaning... the African cloth, the hand-made banners, the floral arrangement, the silver-plate chalice.... they are largely, maybe utterly, meaningless except in the communities in which they are used.  Yet, in each community, they are precious, cared for, repaired, cleaned, put away safely after use.

This probably has nothing whatsoever to do with any of today's passages, but is prompted by pondering them.

God of the Tabernacle

God of the Temple

Which, I wonder, did you prefer?

God of all places

God of this place

What is it that makes ground holy?

God of past times

God of this time

How can I best honour you?

God of mystery

God of majesty

What do you require of me?

God of Cathedral

God of mission tent

God of tin tabernacle

God of Victorian chapel

God of school hall

God of church hall

Show us what we should clear out

Show us what we should retain

Help us mend what is tattered

Help is clean what is despoiled

Above all

Make us people in and amonst whom you are pleased to dwell.

That has to be longest post title ever!

Today I saw my GP about my Tamoxifen induced joint problems - I am so lucky, she didn't even blink, just acknowledged it as a documented side effect (as do the breast clinic people here; not all doctors do) and proceeded to prescribe anti-inflammatories to try to alleviate the symptoms (as it happens they also have proven anti-cancer benefits so, if they work, she's happy for me to take them long term).  However, the anti-inflammatories have side effects, notably acid indigestion, so I have also been prescribed something for that.

Apart from turning into a middle-aged pill-popper, I am mildly amused at the complexity of it all.  I am also mildly amused/curious that the other people with whom I am in contact who have these problems are also living in Scotland... just what is (or isn't) in the water/air here?!

The readings for today:

Psalm 84
1 Kings 6:1-4, 21-22
1 Corinthians 3:10-23

Psalm 84 is one of the beautiful lyrical psalms that has prompted the writing of more than a few hymns and worship songs.  Two that spring to mind are 'How Lovely Is Your Dwelling Place' from the Northumbria Community and 'Better is One Day' by Matt Redman, there are any number of others, and if you google you can find them

The teeny exerpt from 1 Kings refers to Solomon building the Temple and emphasises its gold overlay.

1 Corinthians uses the building metaphor to describe the work Paul began and which is continued by his successors - building with straw, wood or gold, etc.  It makes for rather scary reading, and is often misused or misunderstood I fear.  I have a sneaky suspicion that what is being said, in part, is that in this life we will never know what is 'straw' and what is, after all, 'gold'.  I also have a sense that the hay or straw building is not worthless, just maybe worth less than that which transpires to be gold.  We all think we know which is gold, which is wood, which is hay, have our own tests for soundness of doctrine or practice, but are they, of themselves, just more straw?  Hmm.

Maybe everything I have done, everything I will do, will turn out to be straw, fleeting and readily burned up - but at least I'll have tried.  A few years ago when the Fresh Expressions DVD  was in vogue, I recall one story that really spoke to me, from a Methodist minister, who said, when it came his time to stand before God and give an account of his life, he would, if nothing else be able to say, with conviction "I tried"

"The wise man built his house upon the rock..."

But with what did he build?

Was his a purely function house of stone and wood?

Or a palace furnished with gold and jewels?

Was it built to house his family

Or to shelter anyone who came by?

Paul said

(arrogantly, and dare I suggest inaccurately)

That he laid the foundation

He also said

(more accurately)

That Christ is the foundation

And he said

(mixing his metaphors)

We are both building and builder

A house built on rock will withstand the storm better than one built on sand

A house built of brick will last longer than one made of straw

But is it simply the case that stronger and more ornate is better?

What kind of Temple does God choose?

I try, Lord, I try

I don't always know what or how or where to build

But I try

I do my best, Lord, I do my best

I don't know if I choose wisely or not

But I do my best

Divine Craftsperson

Builder and weaver

Clothing the fields with flowers and grass

(which after all is here to day and tomorrow burned in the fire)

Feeding the birds

(who do not reap or sow, or build barns to store grain)

Building your church

(of misshapen and misaligned human stones)

Show me where I fit in your creating

Show me how I create with you

May my best

(flawed though it is)

Be acceptable to you.

Two things I discovered this morning...

1 Most of my lovely peeps do not know the title song of this post.  So, if they happen to read this, here is:

2 Most of my lovely people did not know the story of Mephibosheth (2 Samuel, various) so I sent them off to read it for their homework.  So, big thanks to the LHBC, JBC and 1st D GB for telling this important story (I've known it since it was used in the last of those mentioned as a story about children in the Bible for the 'Splorers)

And this pretty amazing grace is...

unexpected

unchosen/unrequested

undeserved

unstinting

and

which is my answer to a comment after the service

unlimited/unbounded

One illustration I forgot to use was of grace in Christian theology as being what my mission tutor called cat-hold grace rather than monkey-hold grace.  The mother cat sees her kitten in peril, reaches down and picks it up, then runs to safety; the baby monkey senses danger and clambers onto the back of its mother, hoping for safety.  Eastern religions, he asserted, hold to the idea of monkey-hold grace (God is grace, we mst seek God) and Christianity has a a prevenient God who looks out for us.  The origin of this image is lost in time, my then tutor claimed he'd been taught it by a retired Methodist minister I knew and worked with in Dibley, and that they'd worked together in the Church of South India.  As a cat lover of course, I prefer God to be cat-like than ape-like!