Spiritual Giants

I was doing some clearing out recently, sorting through some papers, and came across a letter from Lesslie Newbigin. It was a short note written to me because we share in common that we were both, at different times, ministers of Winson Green United Reformed Church in Birmingham. Lesslie, when he was minister, had the vision of that church uniting with the local Anglicans. Lesslie was a great person of vision, as I have been reminded more recently during a couple of ecumenical visits to the Diocese of Vellore in South India, which was previously part of the Diocese of Madras, including at the time when Lesslie was Bishop of Madras. People still spoke highly of him.

My letter was because the Winson Green vision became reality during my ministry there. In January 1994 we came together and, a year earlier in January 1993, joined in a service in which we made the commitment that was fulfilled a year later. Bishop Lesslie was the preacher at the 1993 service and my letter is a very brief note about those arrangements. Lesslie was defined by his vision of unity, but also his commitment to the local mission of the church. He was a missionary bishop, and a great model. One of the other papers was the order of service for the Birmingham gathering which gave thanks for his life which, very deliberately, took place in Winson Green and the organisation of which was something else in which I played a part.

I was therefore saddened, a couple of days or so later and today, to get the sad news of the death of Bernard Thorogood who, like Lesslie, would be one of the spiritual 'giants' to whom I have looked. Bernard, too, was a missionary, in his case in the Pacific Islands, and, later, the General Secretary of the Council for World Mission, including at the time when it re-modelled itself into its current forward-thinking partnership model. That included the point at which my ministry began, and I remember the impact on me of news from and about CWM in those days. In 1980 Bernard moved to be the General Secretary of the United Reformed Church, and so was in that post when I became a minister of the denomination in 1983, and for the next nine years, serving CWM as General Secretary from 1970 to 1980 and the URC as General Secretary from 1980 to 1992.

As we look to what "might" be something of a new church era, post coronavirus and lockdown, it is good to remember with thanksgiving the inspiration, commitment and challenges provided by the likes of Lesslie Newbigin and Bernard Thorogood.

Bringing Lunch

I am reading Tom Wright's popular commentaries on John's Gospel at the moment - John for Everyone. Today it was the feeding of the five thousand, one of my favourites, and with the distinction of being in all four gospels. I have talked and preached on this story many times. There is so much in it. What particularly struck me today was Wright's comment about a critical element in the story being that Andrew and Philip brought the boy to Jesus, and seeing that as a model for what we should do.

"Philip doesn't know what to do. Andrew doesn't either, but he brings the boy and his bread and fish to the attention of Jesus. The point is obvious, but we perhaps need to be reminded of it: so often we ourselves have no idea what to do, but the starting-point is always to bring what is there to the attention of Jesus. You can never tell what he's going to do with it - though part of Christian faith is the expectation that he will do something we hadn't thought of, something new and creative."

The Way of the Carmelites

One of the books that I read during Lent was The Way of the Carmelites: A Prayer Journey Through Lent by James McCaffrey, which provided an interesting insight into the prayer journeys and practices of the Carmelites.

We are, of course, now beyond Lent, but the learning remains valid and, in the current context, particularly relevant. Amongst the phrases in the book that struck me were the statements that " Lent is an invitation and a challenge to journey with the wounded Christ who can show us the truth of our own weakness, insecurity and brokenness, and the truth of a God who is mercy, compassion and tenderness," and that, "Lent is not a time for gloom and sadness. Most importantly of all, it is a privileged time for prayer – for nurturing our relationship with God."

McCaffrey reminds us of the critical role of prayer - "Prayer is never a selfish flight from the call of duty or from the grind of daily living. In silence, Carmelites listen more intently, and with compassion, to the pain of the world; even for those who have entered a monastery, the neediness of the world they have left behind is where the compassionate core of their heart continues to live."

He also reminds us that "every trial or suffering is accompanied by a special grace of God – at the time: not in advance – to help us carry this cross." I find that deeply reassuring but, at the same time, need to challenge myself to take it seriously.

Out of Solitude

Henri Nouwen is one of my favourite writers. He wrote a good number of books, and I have ready many of them. Recently I came across one that was new to me – Out of Solitude. It is a timely reminder of the value of the place where we can be alone with God. Nouwen reminds us of the great example that Jesus sets on this – “In the lonely place, Jesus finds the courage to follow God's will and not his own; to speak God's words and not his own; to do God's work and not his own.”

Of course, we can’t spend all our time in ‘getting away’, and Nouwen also reminds us of that – “The careful balance between silence and words, withdrawal and involvement, distance and closeness, solitude and community forms the basis of the Christian life and should therefore be the subject of our most personal attention.”

He also, in a telling reminder of the value of care, encourages us to be there for each other and to know that what someone else does, in the same circumstances, we might have done. 

However, perhaps the biggest value of these thoughts is in the encouragement to get alongside each other as human beings.

“To care means first of all to empty our own cup and to allow the other to come close to us. It means to take away the many barriers which prevent us from entering into communion with the other. When we dare to care, then we discover that nothing human is foreign to us, but that all the hatred and love, cruelty and compassion, fear and joy can be found in our own hearts. When we dare to care, we have to confess that when others kill, I could have killed too. When others torture, I could have done the same. When others heal, I could have healed too. And when others give life, I could have done the same. Then we experience that we can be present to the soldier who kills, to the guard who pesters, to the young man who plays as if life has no end, and to the old man who stopped playing out of fear of death. By the honest recognition and confession of our human sameness we can participate in the care of God who came, not to the powerful but to the powerless, not to be different but to be the same, not to take our pain away but to share it. Through this participation, we can open our hearts to each other and form a new community.”

Salvadoran Cross

Easter Day! Jesus is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Today's cross comes from El Salvador though, unlike others from different place, it is not one that I bought when in that country, somewhere I have never visited. The brightly coloured Salvadoran crosses emerged in the 1960s and 1970s - I think I probably obtained this one (from Traidcraft) in the early 1980s. At that time people in El Salvador were frequently fleeing brutal persecution, the most prominent example of which was possibly the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero in 1980. The crosses were a reaction in which the people tried to express hope in the midst of the pain and suffering. Brightly coloured scenes that related to their faith were painted on to wooden crosses as a practical expression of faith. Some of the scenes were drawn from everyday life, others from the Bible.

If we were not in lockdown, we would have been 'blossoming' the cross at the service which I would have been leading. In order to blossom the cross, chicken wire, or similar, covers a wooden cross, so that the congregation can bring flowers and attach them to the cross. It represents the transition from Good Friday to Easter Day as we celebrate the joy of the resurrection.

I am reminded of Charles Wesley's hymn:

Christ the Lord is risen today,
Alleluia!
let creation join to say:
Alleluia!
raise your joys and triumphs high,
Alleluia!
sing, ye heavens; thou earth, reply:
Alleluia!

Cross from Hungary

Today's Cross is another brought back from a visit to another country, this time the visit that my wife and I made to Budapest, Hungary in 2017. This ceramic cross features a traditional Hungarian design, reminiscent for me of my visits to Romania in the 2000s. One of the congregations to which I ministered in my last post developed a twinning link with a congregation of the Reformed Church in Timisoara/Temesvar in Romania. As the Reformed Church is a home for Hungarians in Romania, the culture I experienced on my three visits was a mix of Romanian and Hungarian, but predominantly the latter. This cross then has become a link for me with that particular part of my world church journey. It is therefore a reminder of our unity in Christ across the globe. That is important to me, and I have been fortunate to make world church links in a number of places.

Today, Holy Saturday, is, in many ways, a dark day. We are between Good Friday and Easter Day. Let us think of the dark moments which are as much an important part of our faith as are the times of joy and celebration.

I am reminded of Thomas Kelly's hymn:

We sing the praise of him who died,
of him who died upon the cross;
the sinner's hope though all deride,
for this we count thev world but loss.

Jerusalem Cross

Today's Cross is the Cross known as the Jerusalem Cross. The Jerusalem Cross is distinctive, consisting of a large cross surrounded by four smaller crosses, so five crosses in all, and in each case the arms of equal length. Sometimes the five are seen as representing the five wounds of Christ. Others see Christ in the centre and the four representing the four Gospels. It is a heraldic cross, so used to link with a paricular location, being recognised as the emblem of the kingdom of Jerusalem from the 1280s. I bought this particular cross while in the Holy Land in December 2011, and it is made of the olive wood so much used in mementoes of the area. 

Today is Good Friday and, as we remember the agony of the crucifixion, I remember being in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem which contains the sites believed to be of both Calvary and the garden tomb. I also remember standing on the edge of the city by the bus station, with some rubbish burning nearby, looking at a hillside which many would suggest was something like the hill outside the city walls would have been in the day - though without buses! It is known as Gordon's Calvary because General Gordon was firmly convinced that this was the real site. It looked like it, unlike an altar in a church. Well, he was right on the last point, but probably not on the geography. From there I went to the a site known as the Garden Tomb. The same could be said of this site in relation to the location - but it was a peaceful place, and certainly reminiscent of a suitable garden. 

So, on this day of abandonment and desolation, when the disciples were in despair, I am reminded of the traditional hymn/song:

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Celtic Cross

Today's is another Celtic Cross. It's simple, made, I think, of stone. And today is Maundy Thursday, and so I want to reflect briefly on the events of Maundy Thursday. Jesus sent some of the disciples to make preparations for a meal, presumably a Passover meal. They gathered in an upper room. There, of course, Jesus took on the so called menial role, that everyone else clearly declined. He was the one to wash the feet of the others. No doubt, there was lots of interesting conversation. Alongside the meal they shared bread and wine. This is my Body. This is my Blood. So, a huge part of our expression of our faith was instituted. There was conversation about betrayal and denial. Then they went out. They went out to the garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus struggled in an agony of prayer - while the disciples slept! So, the scene is set for the betrayal, the arrest, the 'trials', the beatings, the crown of thorns, the mockery - and all that takes us into and through Good Friday.

I am reminded of Paul Gerhardt's hymn, of course in its English translation:

O sacred head, once wounded,
with grief and shame weighed down;
O royal head, surrounded
with thorns, thy only crown;
O Lord of life and glory:
what bliss till now was thine!
I read the wondrous story,
I joy to call thee mine.

Cross of Coal

Today's Cross is a Cross made of coal, not something that I would have expected. It is, like some others I have, a celtic cross in design, but it is the material from which it is made that I see as significant. It speaks to me, because of the substance, of industry and economy, and also, as I think of energy use, of climate change. It reminds me that God is intimately connected with, and concerned about, all of life. Whilst I appreciate the thought of some things as 'holy', in another sense there is not a separate compartment of life marked 'holy'. It is important to note how Jesus, in his earthly life, met people where they were and at the point of their need. It is also important to remember that he engaged with all classes of people. Our faith should not be confined to certain areas of life. It needs to be everywhere. That is the message both of Good Friday and of Easter Day. The cross appears to be the end. It is a nonsense. For the moment, things look hopeless, but ...

Brian Wren's hymn portrays the moment:

Here hangs a man discarded,
a scarecrow hoisted high,
a nonsense pointing nowhere
to all who hurry by.

Murano Cross

The cross for today is another from a holiday. Last August we were on holiday in Italy for a week and visited the island of Murano, near Venice, where we saw something of the techniques involved in making the famous Murano glass - and I bought this cross at the factory shop. It was interesting to see the craftsmanship and the variety of glass projects produced. 

This cross is rather splendid, quite ornate, and a long way from the original on which it is modelled. It is a thing of beauty and, as such, very different from a chunk of blood-stained rough wood. Yet I want to bring the two together, recognising that the original cross had its own beauty, certainly a strange beauty, but a beauty demonstrated in all it represents. On the face of it, it was a horrible instrument of torture - but its beauty is to be seen in the depths of its demonstration of God's love.

There's a verse in a medieval Latin hymn, written by Venantius Fortunatus and translated by Alan Gaunt. 

It's the fourth verse:

This tree, ablaze with royal light
and with the blood-red robe it wears,
is hallowed and embellished by
the weight of holiness it bears,

Cross from Iona

Today's Cross is one that I bought about twenty years ago on a visit of the Isle of Iona. Despite, apart from very early years, living in Scotland until I was 27, I have only visited Iona once and that was long after I had moved to England. The children were very small and we were holidaying near Oban and took a day tour, bus and ferry, to Iona. It was a great day, and the children were really good. Despite that minimal contact, I regard Iona as a very special place, what some would call a 'thin' place. It is a place where you have a real sense of God's presence. I have, of course, benefitted from the work stemming from the Iona Community, not least the Wild Goose Worship Group. 

I remember that day, landing on the beach, visiting the abbey, getting some small sense of that special place. The cross is, of course, a celtic cross, and was hand-carved on the island. It is a link for me with the celtic aspects of faith, which often speak to my spirituality. It is also a link with a much loved Scotland. I am not a Scot, having been born in Nottingham, but most of my childhood, my education and my first ministry were all in Scotland. Living now amid the flatness of East Anglia, memories of Scotland evoke the hills that form so much of the landscape.

I am thus reminded of Cecil Frances Alexander's hymn:

There is a green hill far away,
outside a city wall,
where the dear Lord was crucified,
who died to save us all.

Palm Cross

Taking a minor variation on my posting crosses that I own, as today is Palm Sunday, it felt right to post a picture of a Palm Cross. Palm crosses are made of dried palm leaves and are very often given out at church services on Palm Sunday, the congregants being invited to take one home as a reminder of this day and, indeed, of this week. It links the hosanna crying crowd of Palm Sunday, when palm branches were used, alongside cloaks, to provide the 1st century Palestinian equivalent of a red carpet as Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, with the hostile 'crucify him' crying crowd of Good Friday. This year, of course, it is not possible. I have heard a few alternative suggestions, such as drawing a cross on the palm of yoiur hand or making a palm cross out of twigs. Whether you do, or have done, that or not, take a moment to think of all this day means, and prepare yourself for all that Holy Week means.

I always think of one of the churches in my last pastorate when I see palm crosses, the Cotteridge Church in Birmingham. We used to hold our crosses high every year as we sang the hymn that has the refrain, written by George Kitchin and M R Newbolt:

Lift high the Cross, the love of Christ proclaim
rill all the world adore his sacred name.

Croatian Cross

Yesterday I posted about the cross that I have had the longest. Today, I am posting about the cross (pictured) that I have had the least time. Last October my wife and I went to Split in Croatia for a week's holiday, and I obtained this cross from one of the stalls on the seafront at Split.

That means it has good associatons as it reminds me of our time there. It got to me thinking as to whether I should buy crosses when on holiday or visiting places - and my answer is why not?

Buying crosses in different places reminds me that my faith is with me wherever I go. It also reminds me that Christianity is a global religion, and so its symbols and representations are to be found around the world.

It is interesting to note that Croatia is a strongly Christian country, mainly Roman Catholic - our guide on a walking tour round the old city introduced himself a Christian, not something I would expect to encounter in the UK.

This cross is made of the local brac stone, and so is very much rooted in the Dalmatian region.  It is  rather splendid.

I am reminded of the hymn written by John Bowring:

In the cross of Christ I glory,
towering o'er the wrecks of time;
all the light of sacred story
gathers round its head sublime.

Recycled Cross

As we are approaching Holy Week, this is the first of ten posts in which I am going to include photographs of different crosses I have and say something about them, recognising, of course, that in every case they speak all of the wonderful message of the Cross and all that means. This is the one that I have had the longest. It was given to me, as I recollect, just before my ordination, and that was way back in 1979. At that time my parents (and siblings) lived in Wigan, and my father was the minister of the United Reformed Church there, with which I got quite involved for a short while. This cross, as a note stuck to the bottom of it says, was made from early Victorian timbers of Wigan Parish Church, and it was made as a commemoration of the year of the Queen's Silver Jubilee, 1977, the year, as it happens, in which I graduated from the University of Glasgow. It is because it was made from something else that I am describing it as recycled, but I do find that singularly appropriate,

I love the simplicity of this cross, I think the only cross that has accompanied me throughout my ministry. I think that all the others are more decorated and/or ornate, well maybe bar one, and that's different - we'll come to that on Sunday. I am reminded of the words of Isaac Watts' hymn:

When I survey the wondrous cross

on which the Prince of glory died,

my richest gain I count but loss

and pour contempt on all my pride.

Abundant Life and Good Shepherds

Perhaps my favourite Bible verse is John 10, verse 10 – which is not to say that there are not other contenders – but John 10.10, and indeed just the second half – I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.  The Message has it - I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.  It’s that idea of abundance.  When I think of God, I think of extravagant generosity.  I think of grace overflowing.  It is the picture provided by the psalmist at the end of the 5^th verse of Psalm 23 – my cup overflows. 

Some things, of course, are better not overflowing – but that doesn’t apply to love.

The statement comes, of course, in the context of talk about good and bad shepherds. I suppose that, in the first place, being the gate in this context indeed suggests images of care, or of looking after.  The shepherd takes care of the sheep.  The shepherd is the sheep’s protector.  The shepherd is concerned with the welfare of the sheep.  And that is all positive stuff.  We like to be taken care of.  We like to be looked after. I guess there are times when we like our independence too – that’s a bit like the stroppy sheep that wanders off, who jumps the fence.  And that’s OK.  In the Luke 15 story, of course, the wandering sheep got lost and caused all the hassle of a search party needing to be set up.  We do that sometimes too,  But wandering off doesn’t have to be so.  It can be just taking a bit of space for a while, and we all need to do that sometimes.  But I think we all have those times when we want to be looked after. 

But that, of course, isn’t the whole shepherd story – and when we tell it like that we run the risk of exploring this image through rose-tinted glasses.  Our view of shepherds, and perhaps particularly shepherds in Jesus’ time, is likely, unless we are careful, to be coloured by our experience of contemporary nativity plays put on, usually, by the younger members of the church community.

There is, in fact, a very tough side to this image.  Shepherds in Biblical times were pretty cut off from human society, spending all their time, as they did, out on the hills with the sheep.  In the religious terms of the day this put them on the margins of society as they were quite simply unable to comply with the various liturgical practices of the time.  In short, they were, for the most part, unclean.  It is also true that they lived a risky existence doing their best to protect the sheep from the various predators that might attack.  A shepherd’s life could be a dangerous one.

They had the task of finding water and good pasture, not easy in the semi-desert.  And perhaps a very strong indicator of the care they might offer comes in the ‘I am the gate’ image.  Often at night the sheep would be gathered into a rough pen, really just an open space enclosed by four walls, but with a gap left so that the sheep could go in and out.  When the sheep were safely in for the night, what would happen is that the shepherd himself would lay across the entrance, and that’s where he would sleep.  Nothing could get in or out except by going over his body.  And so, quite literally, the shepherd was the gate.

Once we take all these things into account, we can see that shepherding was not for the weak.  We are also left with quite a broad view of what was involved.  The caring and protecting is there, definitely – but so is being on the margins of society.  So is danger and taking risks. 

We might also note, of course, how this chapter contrasts the good shepherd and the bad shepherd, the good shepherd and the robber.

The true, or good, shepherd cares for the flock.  He is not in the business of destructive behaviour.  He is not trying to wear us down with guilt, nor to demand of us more than we can possibly give.  Sadly, we have to admit that the church has sometimes given the impression that it is like this and has sent the sheep scurrying away in understandable alarm.  But Jesus, like David before him, explains the reality in terms of a trustworthy shepherd, one who has all the best interests of the sheep at heart, who wants to ensure their food supplies and their safety, who will use his power to provide wisely and faithfully for those in his care.  The sheep are thus free to enjoy their lives without panic or confusion.  One writer sums up these ideas by saying: "I think Jesus was a specialist in lost persons; and I think this characteristic specialisation is powerfully expressed in the idea of the good shepherd.”