Paul writes:

Today we met in the park (appropriately socially-distanced!) for the last time before lockdown.  Fiona had found it was All Saints Day and the lectionary reading was the Beatitudes so we read round them in The Message (which, being less familiar, makes one think more about the meaning and perhaps emphasises their immediacy) and then in the NIV (which to me has always seemed to suggest recompense in heaven when you die!). That familiar rendering was then echoed in Pope Francis’ thought-provoking description of a saint;

Saints are the simple, the humble who make room for God, who know how to weep for others and for their own errors, those who stay meek, who fight for justice, who are merciful toward all, who guard purity of heart, who always work for peace and remain in joy, not in hate, and, even when suffering, respond to evil with good. (Pope Francis)

Fiona then conducted a light-hearted quiz identifying pictures of the Saints with each of our names, and what they patronised

We followed that with an excellent prayer she had found;

All Saints’ Day Prayer: Set in the Company of Saints

You are our God and we are Your people,
and we are grateful that You have claimed us as your own.
You have set us in the company of saints past and present,
among those who have made bold witness
to Your goodness and Your truth.
Your Word opens up new futures
where we see no way forward.

You know the places in our hearts
where we are afraid
— afraid of a future we cannot control;
— afraid of losing health and independence
— afraid for the well-being of our children
— afraid that past mistakes will ruin our future

Write the stories of your people deep into our hearts
so that we may learn to trust you beyond our fears.
Give us hearts and minds and spirits
ready to trust and follow wherever your Spirit leads

The second element today was about memories and remembering (I have been clearing out the loft; so many memories and funny how we keep some worthless things because of the memories they invoke). Fiona had made some memory cards and beads to help us pray for each other over the next few weeks when we will not be meeting face-to-face.

Finally we ended with Steve Kenyon’s towering, majestic Beech Tree bread and wine words/liturgy which I urge you read in the resources section, as it is probably too long to reproduce here

Kintsugi – The Japanese method of creating art from broken  ceramic objects.

So today we met in the park, under the weeping beech, setting up two groups of chairs to meet the ‘Rule of six’ restrictions (even though we could potentially be a whole group, socially distanced, as a church. We had about 30 minutes to reflect on the sheet outlined below before joining our two groups to share bread and wine.

Psalm 105 begins with these words: (I have alternated between male and female pronouns)

  ^1-6 Hallelujah!

Thank God! Pray to him by name!
Tell everyone you meet what he has done!
Sing him songs, belt out hymns,
translate his wonders into music!
Honour his holy name with Hallelujahs,
you who seek God. Live a happy life!

Keep your eyes open for God, watch for her works;
be alert for signs of her presence.
Remember the world of wonders she has made,
her miracles, and the verdicts she’s rendered—
O seed of Abraham, his servant,
O child of Jacob, his chosen.

^7-15 She’s God, our God,
in charge of the whole earth.
And she remembers, remembers her Covenant—
for a thousand generations she’s been as good as her word.

The Psalm then goes on to recount story after story of how God kept faithful to his people at different points in history’. Insert your stories here of how God has kept faithful to you in the past – the good and the bad.

When… God was there for me…

When… God did not let me go… etc.
⁴² All because he remembered his Covenant,
his promise to Abraham, his servant.

^43-45 Remember this! He led his people out singing for joy;
his chosen people marched, singing their hearts out!

He made them a gift of the country they entered,
helped them seize the wealth of the nations
So they could do everything he told them—
could follow his instructions to the letter.

Hallelujah!

What do you want to say to me God?

 Return to the Psalm – read it again, let it nudge you into conversation…

So they could do everything he told them – could follow his instructions to the letter…

 Over the past couple of Wednesdays and last Sunday, we have been exploring, again, what it might mean for us to be working for the kingdom of God. Just lately, I have been thinking about what a significant time this is for us all for multiple reasons. Some are newly retired, about to retire, drifting into retirement, well into retirement, longing for retirement (!) … Some need work, some are working with new challenges. Some are yearning for reunions and lamenting a loss of past levels of relationship… What does God’s calling look like right now? What can we do in this new life, at the very least characterised by less freedom and direct relationships, to build God’s kingdom in on-going Covid times?

It would be easy to default to seeing our mission as being pared back / less than that which we could do before. Funnily enough, the Gospel reading in the Lectionary today is the story of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20) – the one where the folk hired late in the day get the same wages as those hired early on. I found myself seeing yet another message there about God valuing our service in the later stages of our lives – not just when we were young, bounding with energy and zeal and full of idealism (or is that just how I remember my younger self?!)

Into all these thoughts, I came across the following words after revisiting Sacredspace.ie (heartily recommended for daily reflection / prayer)

‘Your path to God is the one you are on right now and there is no other. You cannot start or move on from anywhere but here. Now is the time to ask God to help you get closer to him.’ Sacredspace.ie

John Henry Newman wrote:

‘God has created me to do him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which he has not committed to another’

That definite service was not merely what we were doing in the past, the service is for today – for now – how could it be anything else? We only have now!

What can I do that only I can do? Who has been given into my care?

Take some time to ask God to help you commit to building the kingdom of God wherever your specific calling leads you. Keep your eyes open for God, watch for her works; be alert for signs of her presence. Remember the world of wonders God has made…

Prayer for others: One of the things we have thought about recently is remembering to look outwards. One way of building the kingdom is to offer our prayers to God and to trust that they can make a tangible impact on others however far away… Take some time to pray for those known to you who need Jesus now and for people in poverty, exile and fear who need God’s love, provision, encouragement and closeness right now…

Meeting together, yet apart, we used words written by Steve as we reflected on beauty in brokenness:

WABI-SABI BREAD AND WINE

In traditional Japanese aesthetics, wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete”.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”   2 Cor 12 v 9

And when we were far off – in our impermanence, our alienations, our incompleteness – you met us and brought us home. In our brokenness, your love and forgiveness are made complete. Your mercy is there for the messy and the conflicted and the sinful. We are broken in two but you draw all things together in yourself.

And how are we to celebrate this redemption? With gold and diamonds? Crowns and coronets?

No!

With bread, made with grain and yeast by human hands, to signify your body broken.

(EAT BREAD)

With wine, made with grape and yeast by human hands, to signify your blood shed.

(DRINK WINE)

So it is with rejoicing that we anticipate the Great Feast.

Blessings on those who are broken and bruised. May all know Christ’s love. Amen.

Takeaway coffees from Cool River kept us warm and allowed us to share our stories and prayer requests. It is still SO good to be able to meet in person. We are blessed.

I came across an article in the paper well before lockdown which got me thinking, and for obvious reasons, the person who is the focus of the article has appeared in several other articles much more recently.

He’s Sir Muir Gray : one of the UK’s leading medical figures (no I’d never heard of him either)  – he’s a physician, an Oxford University professor, a public health expert and innovator and he’s 75 years old.  He’s researched and written much about old age, fitness and what we could and should be doing in our latter stages of life.  His view is although the aging process is something we’re all powerless to escape (Signs of aging start at around the age of 30!). His research suggests that an individual person’s rate of decline is hugely affected or aggravated by inactivity and a loss of fitness. He calls this the fitness gap and maintains that there are things that older people can and should do to make a significant difference to the narrowing of that gap.

Gray suggests that to narrow the fitness gap there are 4 s’s we should consider:

Stamina, strength, skill (balance) and suppleness.

It has stuck with me and it gave me food for thought. Not only about my level of physical fitness (definitely a work in progress)  but could I apply some of this guidance to my spiritual health? To my faith community?

There are tensions and traps in pursuing this thinking –the trap of dualism – of seeing only some things as spiritual (prayer, bible reading etc etc) as opposed to seeing absolutely everything as permeated by God.

Then there’s the trap of ‘effort over ease’… I am wary of defaulting back to effort – to trying to earn God’s love, God’s favour through what I do. (e.g. ‘I’m a ‘good’ Christian today because I’ve done x, y and z….)  It’s taken me a long long time to unlearn that toxic theology.

But I’m equally wary of becoming flabby….so laid back in my faith I’m horizontal….that the blurring of lines result  in a blurring of vision.

So the following is some food for thought – a hanging on to Sir Gray’s advice as a way of reflection and prayer. The words in bold are from quotations from Sir Gray – if nothing else – you might want to consider his advice.

Stamina :  Stamina is best assessed when someone is under a bit of pressure and has to keep going. You need to get a little bit breathless

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace” 2Corinthians 4:8

When have you known God’s unfolding grace when under pressure?

 Getting a little bit breathless: Pay attention. Take time. Demonstrate reverence.

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the colour purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.” (Alice Walker: The Colour Purple)

Skill:  The most important skill to maintain and improve is the ability to keep upright.

“Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!” Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand.” Matthew 14

What things, situations and people cause me to ‘lose my balance’ or perspective?

“We take our lead from Christ, who is the source of everything we do. He keeps us in step with each other. His very breath and blood flow through us, nourishing us so that we will grow up healthy in God, robust in love.” Ephesians 4

Give thanks for people who support you to keep balance, perspective and stability.

Suppleness:  “Suppleness is probably the most under-valued part of fitness and the aspect that is most important as we age. As people lose suppleness they become stiffer and the usual reason for this is that what are called the connecting tissues become less elastic.”

“Recently I was in the town of Joppa praying. I fell into a trance and saw a vision: Something like a huge blanket, lowered by ropes at its four corners, came down out of heaven and settled on the ground in front of me. Milling around on the blanket were farm animals, wild animals, reptiles, birds—you name it, it was there. Fascinated, I took it all in. “Then I heard a voice: ‘Go to it, Peter—kill and eat.’ I said, ‘Oh, no, Master. I’ve never so much as tasted food that wasn’t kosher.’ The voice spoke again: ‘If God says it’s okay, it’s okay.’ This happened three times, and then the blanket was pulled back up into the sky.

If I had the same experience as Peter – what would my response be?

How might I be flexible, be open, be willing to stretch myself?

And how do we strengthen the connecting tissues between us in our faith communities that keep us flexible?

 And if you’re wondering where the 4^th s went – strength, we used that as a reminder of ‘weight bearing’ – so we prayed for those we know and love who are going through hard times and who need us to bear them up in prayer.

Finally, Galatians 5 seems to provide the perfect summary of all of this pondering:

But what happens when we live God’s way?

He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—

things like :

affection for others,

exuberance about life,

serenity.

We develop a willingness to stick with things,

a sense of compassion in the heart,

and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.

We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments,

not needing to force our way in life,

able to marshal and direct our energies wisely : 

This morning Parker led us for the first time, bringing a poignancy and power in his analysis to what has been happening in his homeland, the US, in recent times and our response to that. His notes can be found below.

2020 has been a year of near-constant “interruption.” Our lives have been reoriented and redirected in new and, at times, challenging ways. For many of us, we have known family and friends affected by the coronavirus. For all of us, we have either been directly affected by the pandemic’s knock-on consequences: interrupted or discontinued employment, holidays delayed or postponed, distance forcefully imposed between us and our loved ones.

The virus has revealed in profoundly violent ways the manner in which our societies have been constructed on systemic inequities and inequalities.

That Black Americans like George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and David McAtee have died at the hands of American police forces is nothing new. That Black and Brown folks suffer disproportionately from disease, infant mortality, and now, the coronavirus, is not new news. It is simply being “revealed” en masse on social media and television.

I propose that today we enter into what the feminist theologian Susan Ross calls a “liturgy of strategic interruption.” Liturgies of strategic interruption include those promoted by liberation theologians, who were eager to give voice to the indigenous and poor communities of Latin America, marginalized and unheard by dictatorships and the hierarchical Church; or feminist theologians, who vindicated women as active objects of liturgical practice, whether from the pulpit or in biblical exegesis.

I suggest we engage a liturgy of strategic interruption to contemplate the events of recent weeks that have yet again the experience of Black Americans. Let’s begin with a few minutes of reflection and meditation as we hear this opening song by Alexi Murdoch…

This was followed by the reading of the Cain and Abel story in Genesis 4 – which seemed more pertinent than ever before. Parker continued:

(Adapted from Rick Axtell, “Ever Eastward,” Baccalaureate Sermon, Centre College, 24 May 2015: https://www.centre.edu/baccalaureate-sermon-ever-eastward-dr-rick-axtell/. Used with generous permission from Dr. Axtell, my professor, mentor, and friend.)

In the Bible, Cain and Abel are the first human brothers. The text tells us nothing of their boyhood friendship. We read only that Abel becomes a shepherd and Cain a farmer. Already in this first human family, this primal brotherhood, there is difference. And this differentiation, this unexpected reality of division in human relations, takes on the dimension of tragedy.

The brothers bring offerings to their God—Abel from his flock, and Cain from his harvest. This inscrutable Deity accepts Abel’s offering but rejects Cain’s. We don’t know why. Cain does not know why.

But it’s not hard to imagine the agony of this rejection, the arbitrariness of this preferential judgment from the authority one hopes to please, this blow to one’s self-worth. Has Abel earned this favour? What have I don’t to be eclipsed by this chosen one?

The story of this primal conflict seems inescapable:
It’s also the story of Jacob, his mother’s favourite, supplanting Esau.
It’s Rachel’s golden boy, Joseph, superseding his older brothers.
It’s the treachery of Claudius against his brother Hamlet.
It’s the opportunism of Romulus killing his brother Remus and then founding the city of Rome.
We know this story.

Cain is grieved by God’s partiality toward Abel. The God who rejected his offering now warns him that sin is crouching like a predatory animal outside the tent. God assures Cain he has the power to master this beat. But you can feel it lurking when Cain calls his brother out to the field…
“And there, Cain rose up against his brother Abel, and killed him.”
His “brother” Abel, the text reminds us.

And we are left with the iconic image of Abel lying unconscious on the ground.

So God puts Cain on trial: “Where is Abel, your brother?”
And Cain’s response is as chilling as it is ethically significant: “I don’t know, am I my brother’s keeper?”
The divine response is as powerful as any line in the Bible:
“What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground.”

Seven times, the text repeats the word “brother.” This brother who never speaks in the text has not lost his voice. It cries out from the very soil that produced Cain’s offering; soil now satiated by the sacrifice of the innocent.

Monday, June 4th, was the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, a Marian feast day inserted into the Roman Calendar in 2018 by Pope Francis.

Mary, Mother of the Church and Mother of Jesus, knelt at the Cross while her Son gasped for air. The whole world hung in the balance as the persecuted Christ fulfilled the prophecy and breathed his final breaths.

The events are among the most anguishing in our Western cultural and religious imagination.

Just as Jesus spoke to Mary in the moments before his death, putting her into the care of John, and John into the care of Mary, so too did George Floyd cry out for his mother while a police officer snuffed out his life by keeping his knee on Floyd’s neck for over eight minutes.

“My neck hurts.
Everything hurts.
Please. Please. Please. I can’t breathe.
I’m about to die this day.
Momma. Momma.
Momma. I’m through.”

We now know that George Floyd’s mother died some two years ago. His calling out for her was not a cry for rescue. It was a cry of reckoning, of reconciliation, of redemption. The beautiful mural created George Floyd’s memory reads, “I can breathe now.” May perpetual light shine on George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and all of those Black Americans whose lives have been unnecessarily cut short.

In my mind, one of the heart-wrenching works art is Michelangelo’s Pietà, which portrays Mary’s motherly embrace of Jesus after the crucifixion. May we also be mindful of Tylonn J. Sawyer’s powerful re-imagination of the Pietà, which compels us to think about the Black Mothers who are forced to embrace the bodies of their limp children, victims of racism and racial injustice, but who are redeemed by the promise of Christ’s crucifixion.

The second reading was from 1 Corinthians 12: 15-26, of Paul’s analogy of the body and this was flowed by a reading of Letter to the Editor of the Courier-Journal:

When those working to find cures for breast cancer post signs saying, “Save the tah-tahs,” they aren’t suggesting that ears are unimportant.

When you see a bumper sticker reading, “Save the rain forest,” it doesn’t mean, “I hate deciduous trees!”

When we rise up and declare that “Black Lives Matter,” we are not saying, “White people suck!” We are saying that, like breasts and rain forests, we have here vulnerable and suffering lives that need special and even preferential attention if our communities are to be healthy.

Black lives matter.

(Scott Holzknecht (Religion Dept., Trinity High School, Louisville, Kentucky) 7 July 2016
https://eu.courier-journal.com/story/opinion/readers/2016/07/07/letter-black-lives-do-matter/86804844/)

Parker continued:

Am I my brother’s keeper? The whole thrust of the biblical narrative—from the Old Testament to the new—is that we are. “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it.” The call of the other is a demand on our lives. It is a call to confront our own individual realities and privileges and then to press for systemic change so that we may cultivate our humanity and replant the soil of human history with the seeds of justice.

You can learn about the My Brother’s Keeper Alliance from the Obama Foundation.

This prayer followed:

God of Creation,
In this tumultuous year of interruption, in which we have seen the arrival of a contagion that has taken the lives of tens of thousands of our brothers and sisters by robbing them of their breath,
We continue to pray for the victims of the pandemic, for their grieving families,
And for all of those who are working to keep us safe, often at their own peril.
We ask that you grant us the patience to be at peace with each of our respective circumstances.

Lord, enliven us to become more aware and more active in the protection of our Brothers and Sisters.
May we have the courage to confront the much more intransigent contagion of racism.
May we be mindful of your call to remake the world in your image, to create a world of justice and equality, on Earth as it is in heaven.

Amen.

And then we shared bread and wine:

Much like the discordant 2020 we are living through, Jesus came to us in a broken, unequal world. A world longing for the Messiah.

In His ministry, unparalleled at that time and ever since, Jesus provided us the ultimate “liturgy of strategic interruption.”

By healing the sick and ministering to the outcasts, Jesus heeded the call of the “voice of the other.”

Even on the night of Jesus’ betrayal, knowing the misery of what lie ahead, He stayed true to his mission of peace and non-violence.

When He gathered with his disciples in the Upper Room, He endowed them with the tools to carry on His ministry.

In breaking bread amongst his friends, Jesus satiated our earthly hunger with spiritual sustenance.

His Body is the fuel our ministry of redemption and reconciliation.

The Bread of Life:
All: (Taking the bread and saying) “Amen.”

Likewise, He took the cup of wine and passed it to his companions.
Jesus told them that the wine was His blood, poured out to represent the New Covenant, of prophecy fulfilled, of death defeated.

The Wine of Everlasting Life:
All: (Taking the wine and saying) “Amen.”

Dying you vanquished death
Rising you restored life
All: Jesus, shine your light amongst us

We finished with sharing of prayer needs and reading an email from Amanda in Minneapolis concerning our email of support to her in her ministry there at this hard time. Then we committed all to God’s blessing and blessed one another with our now established ‘Blessing on you and you and you and…’ as we point to one another.

A profound, sobering, challenging and moving morning with all very grateful for parker’s input.