Christmas Past?

I write on 27^th December with Beccy and Jemima (our now nearly month old daughter) gone to try their luck in the sales.  I’m listening to the ‘Beautiful South’ CD that I bought for Beccy (don’t tell her or she’ll get suspicious as to whom I really bought it for) while Imogen is in the next room dancing to Bob the Builder, Tweenies, Teletubbies et al, from the tape bought by her uncle Andrew.  Not long ago the two of us where racing round the room to Jingle Bells – at Imogen’s request – but isn’t it strange how, as soon as Christmas Day itself is over, all those Christmassie things begin to feel a bit past their use-by date?  Already people are probably looking back to that special excitement that actually builds to a climax sometime late on Christmas Eve.

It’s ironic in a way because Christmastide of course extends all the way to the eve of Epiphany.  And even then its not supposed to be the end: Epiphany marks the bursting forth of the Christmas message into the wider context of our lives and the whole world.

When the song of the angels is stilled
when the star in the sky is gone
when the kings and princes are home
when the shepherds are back with their flocks
then the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost
to feed the hungry
to heal the broken
to release the prisoner
to rebuild the nations
to bring peace among the people
to make music in the heart.

Howard Thurman – from the Christmas Card ‘Christmas Begins’

Some of the feelings of Christmas may be shortlived (hopefully among them that of being overfed) but the inspiration of Christmas should stay with us and propel us not into short lived resolutions but ongoing resolve to bring God’s kingdom and peace on earth.

A Happy New Year to you all from Beccy, Imogen, Jemima and me.

Familiar shaped emptiness

November is a month for remembering.  It has been all the more so for me this year after the death of my father on the first of the month, All Saints Day.  He died suddenly while out for his early morning run, near Battle in East Sussex, where he and my mum had been living for just eight weeks. 

Whilst walking from Worsbrough to Wortley yesterday, I crossed the corner of a field where the cows had been sleeping.  Amidst the other evidence of their occupation were the large oval patches of flattened grass, perhaps still justwarm to the touch.  It seemed a strange sight: more natural for the animals to be still there, chewing the cud as you would expect.  But now just a familiar shaped emptiness remained.  A rather odd analogy for bereavement perhaps, and it would be were it not that one strong memory associated with my Dad is the smallholding in deepest Suffolk where, as a teenager, my dream of ‘living the Good Life’ for five years came true.  There are many other places that will always remind me of him.  The Ecrehous islands, 7 miles from Jersey and halfway to France, at low tide an expanse of sand and rock, at high tide just a few cottages perched above the waves, where he took my sister and I, one fine summer day, by motorised canoe.  The Hardangger Vida, a windswept Norwegian Plateau where all the family went trekking – he was sure that one morning we would wake to find our tents surrounded by vast herds of Elk, but sadly our boots were burnt whilst drying by the fire after the third day and we had to bail out.  Then there’s Scotland: Shark bay where our wild campsite was only accessible by boat; Cape Wrath on the far north west, round which we walked on a 22-mile-day, eating wild mushrooms and watching gannets plunge like arrows into the deep blue sea.  He certainly made life an adventure for us!  He believed, too, that the life of faith should be an adventure: the adventure of stepping out in faith and walking with Christ; the adventure in which we discover together the great things God wants to do through us, and the greatness of his love for us.

There is no doubt that Christmas will have a double edge for my family this year, as it must have for many people.  However, the mystery and wonder of a birth, especially that birth in which the fullness of God began His fragile adventure into this life, can give us courage and hope to face the future, uncertain as it always is, with a sense of excitement and promise.

The Good, the Bad and the Religious!

For some time now I’ve been a supporter of a charity called Survival.  It works for the rights of tribal people throughout the world.  To put it rather simply, these peoples had been living quite happily for thousands of years, following the traditional patterns of life passed down from one generation to another, on the land that they knew and loved and depended on.  Then the Europeans came along, thinking they were brave adventurers discovering new countries.  They saw the tribal people as ignorant savages who needed either to be “civilised” or simply got rid of, and they saw the lands as treasure houses to be raped and plundered of their rich natural resources.  Who knows how much of our affluent modern society is built on this and similar injustice and oppression?  It’s a tragic story, it still goes on today, and whenever I’m reminded of it I feel almost ashamed of being a white European.

The Church hasn’t been free from guilt in the story either.  Sometimes the missionary advance of the Church has been intertwined with the advance of the secular powers, the tactics used have often been heavy-handed and have, at times, shown little respect for the peoples and what was already good in the lives and the religions that they lived.

Perhaps I’m playing into the hands of those who say that religion is the root of all evil, or that we can’t take the Christian religion seriously since it has abused its position of power and trust and carried out so much wickedness in the past.  We have to face up to the powerful reasons for these accusations, but I, for one, don’t go along with the conclusions.

To put it simply: some football supporters are hooligans; but that does not make it wrong to support football.  Even if there had been a time when most supporters were hooligans this would still hold true.

Trying to go deeper: Religion is about what is deepest in life.  The problem of evil is something that has deep roots in humanity.  I don’t find it so surprising that they sometimes get mixed up together.  Wherever there is evil, true religion will be there, trying to bring people back to God and goodness.  But, true religion means people, and, sad as it is, wherever there are people evil always has a chance to take root.

But, more simply again: throwing out the baby with the bath water is a terrible thing to do.  We should instead learn from the past and play our part in putting things right where we can.  Let’s build on what is good, and finally, let’s not be ashamed of what we are. 

A Visit to St Thomas’ Church

By Mr Dawson’s Class, Lobwood School

When we got there and walked up the path, we saw four grave-stones, one was Amys uncle Freds grave.  The other grave stone was Adams brothers.  When we got to the doors the church lookt really huge.  We walked inside it was beautiful ive never seen such a thing. First thing you see is the font the font is where you put water in it to baptise people.  Mr Homes put some water in it and  … showed us how to baptise a baby.                             (D Hewitt)

… As you walk in you can see this thing that looks like a tree … called a font.  And as you walk futher on you can see an egal whats called a lectern.  I thought the pulpit was for St Thomas to go up to sing but it was’nt.  In the church I thout it was going to smell horrible but it smelt lovely.                                              (S Durnan)

… One of the thing’s that we saw was a pulpit it smelt like a very old piece of material.  It was very old and rusty and had lots of dust on it.  When we went out of the church, we saw a lot of old graves that looked like they had been there over 100 years.  I felt very unusual when I walked in the church because it was very old, and had very old things in the church and had very funny music on, it was spooky. …  On our way back it was raining and all the gravestones looked mouldy. I enjoyed it at the church it was a lot of fun.                                                                           (J Whitham)

…  The church is enormous.  It was built in 1858.  The first vicar who went in the church was the Rev. William Banham M.A. He was vicar between 1858 and 1920 …  The church is very interesting. …  I learned a lot about the church and had a real fun time. …  Mr Holmes has a bookstand with an eagle on the top because an eagle is powerfull and the Christians believe that the bible is powerful too. 

                                                                                               (K Cook)

…When everything is quiet in the church you can’t hear anything only the cars it’s wonderful to hear everything what gose by.  …  I thought that the church wouldn’t have so much stuff in because there is a pulpit is a thing were the vicar gose and talk to the people.                                                                                 (P Watson)

It was a nice sunny day and we went up to the church and I had a feeling that it was very old … The Vicar chose 4 volontears and put the four chasubles on us and I was one of them and I felt like a vicar myself.  Then I went and looked at the bread and wine and I saw that someone had had a nibble on it.  Then I went and read the bible.  I think the bible is powerful.  Then I saw the pulpit and I went up and thought of something to say. …  Mr Holmes rang the bell and all the rest of the school herd the church bell ringing. …  The Church smelt fresh and lovly and clean.  I felt all refreshed inside.  The music was nice and soft and made the church feel calm.                                                                   (MWatson)

The Truth beneath the Image

Last Tuesday (as I write), having ‘been to see the Vicar’ about our forthcoming wedding (always strange to have the tables turned), Beccy and I went for a walk at Sprotborough.  It was, I think, just the day after a fatal crash outside The Boat Inn, next to the River: the dashed lines on the road, which marked the trajectory of the vehicle, and the bouquets of flowers, with their brief, heartfelt messages, each, in their own way, told their part of the tragic story.

We walked in the direction of Doncaster, but only as far as the A1(M) viaduct which carries the teeming traffic high over the valley.  On the way back we saw the pleasure boat at its mooring and it reminded me of a previous walk at Sprotborough and a strange experience.  It was evening, and we had walked from the Pub in the opposite direction, through the reserve known as Sprotborough Flash – a wooded area with ponds to the north of the waterway and I think a disused quarry to the south.  It was getting quite dusky as we started to make our way back to the car and it seemed very tranquil.  But then the peace of the evening began to be disturbed – sounds of music and laughter became audible and drew gradually closer.  Eventually, round the next corner of the river the boat appeared, decked out with lights and crowded with people.  Evidently the party was in full swing, with a band playing and some kind of stand up comic sending people into fits of laughter every once and again.  Standing on the bank had seemed fine, now on-the-boat was obviously ‘the place to be’.  All this while the boat was still some distance off.  But then the bizarre nature of the moment revealed itself.   As the boat drew past, with us to its starboard side, it was we who burst out laughing in amazement.  Sure enough there were lights and there were people, but they were all sat there, glum and mute.  There were neither musicians, nor a comedian but only a stereo system with the volume turned up loud.  All the party spirit was simply an illusion!

A sad commentary on modern life?  Perhaps the Church has the problem of finding itself in exactly the opposite position.  People perceive it to be dead, boring, out of touch, trivial, and so on; whereas, in fact, behind the scenes, we should have the secret of life-in-all-its-fullness, a source of strength for living that life and the truth of reality at its greatest depths.  

This Church is becoming a community of people who …

To complete the sentence was the task set by our course leaders for myself and 11 other Vicars who had moved jobs in the last 12 months.

We were in the idyllic location of Wydale Hall, the York Diocesan Retreat Centre (just north of the Pickering to Scarborough road).  Despite the forecast the weather was fabulous, the view over a wooded valley majestic, and after a very pleasant lunch the cooing birds and gently droning bees seemed to suggest that a quite doze on the terrace for a few hours was much more sensible than getting our minds into gear and thinking about congregations back home, issues of leadership and managing change, once more!  But, as Macbeth said, “If t’were done when ‘tis done, ‘tis well it were done quickly”, or something, so we got on with it.

The answers that we came up with were as follows:

… live the answers to the questions people are asking.

… are free to share their stories.

… experience and live out of the resources of God’s grace.

… will engage in the risky business of asking questions about its role, mission and future.

… enjoy God and want others to enjoy him too.

… are understood and loved.

We, the group of course members, were not a ‘Church’ as such, but during those two days away we were a worshipping community of faith.  Amongst other things, it was good to be able to share our stories and raise our questions with one another in a context of love and grace.  We can listen for hours; but, until we start to speak (or write) our own thoughts and tell our own experience to one another, we perhaps don’t really know what we believe or think.

What do you think the Church should be becoming?  Do you agree that it should be ‘becoming’ at all, or do you think it should just ‘be’ as it always has been.  I’m looking forward to reading the results of the questionnaires – the one that has gone out to the congregation at St Thomas’s and others to the wider community, including those you receive with this magazine.

Why don’t vicars look out of their windows in the morning?

Because they’d have nothing to do in the afternoon.

The biography of a Welsh clergyman, who remained in one parish most of his life, told of a working day that always followed the same pattern: Mornings in the study (with a cosy fire in the grate) reading, meditating, and preparing the Sunday sermon.  After a hearty lunch the afternoon was spent walking the fells and communing with God through nature.  In the evening he would visit a few of his parishioners and enjoy a drink and a chat. (I’m still trying to find the parish!)

Apparently, in the year 1700 there was 1 cleric for every 100 of the population!  Today in Worsbrough Dale there is one cleric for some 8,000 people.  It is often said, however, that people’s expectations of the level of ministry their vicar can offer have changed very little.  Ministry these days tends to be rather more diverse and pressured than the example above.

Since 10^th November I have done 14 baptisms, 37 funerals 3 internments of ashes and 1 Wedding: hardly a snappy title for a film but that’s the way it is.  For each of those services I make it a priority to try and see the families beforehand.  I have visited all 5 of the schools in the parish and have done 8 assemblies and 2 lessons to date, as well as hosting one school visit to Church: This is an area of work I would like to develop further.  I’ve visited 4 homes for the elderly and been round once with Jeanne and Ivy when they take communion.  I do have to do a lot of work in my study preparing for services and meetings, doing various administrative tasks, and thinking (I do stare out of the window occasionally, but usually not idly).  There are lots of one off things and bits and pieces: meetings the architect, hosting a Diocesan Advisory Committee visit, going on a week long jaunt to Bridlington (diocesan conference!), moving furniture in Church (!) etc etc.  There is the regular round of Sunday services, PCC, Standing Committee, Vestry Hour, Deanery Chapter, Parish Magazine and so on.  And gradually I’ve been trying to visit and get to know people in the parish and find out what’s going on here and round about.  It’s certainly not a boring job.  I hope I’m never one to moan about being overworked – I do believe in giving top priority to time off for recreation and relaxation – but contrary to the old joke it’s not a one-day-a-week job!  (Honest).