Blue Christmas

It was 2.30 on the Sunday afternoon when I received the phone call. It was 23rd of December and I was preparing for the Carol Service. My Dad's voice was tired, resigned and sad, "Son I'm ringing to let you know that Mum died 10 minutes ago."

I was a young minister and this was my first church. My Mother was 54 when she lost her battle with cancer. I went to the Carol Service. The Church was beautifully decorated for Christmas. The familar words of the carols rang out. It was a Welsh congregation and they sang their hearts out. I preached on the 3 wise men finding their King, God and Saviour but honestly in my heart, at that moment, I felt I had lost him.

Bereavement is a time of pain and confusion when your foundations are shaken. The familiar certainties crumble and the horns of reality seem to be cruelly sharp. I was 26 when my Mother died but hearing the news that Sunday afternoon I felt like a small boy again. I stood in the garden looking up at the gray skies and my tears mingled with the rain as I cried for my lovely Mother.

I wasn't a small boy, I was a young man with a loving wife by my side. In my heart I knew that love remains. As Edith Sitwell put it in the poem 'Eurydice' : Love is not changed by Death, And nothing is lost and all in the end is harvest.'

Christmas can be such a difficult time. Living with loss becomes all the more poignant at this time of celebration. That is why this year at All Saints we are including a service for the quiet discovery of the true meaning of Christmas. It is an invitation to be ourselves in God's presence with all our hurts and pains. Christmas is not only for those whose joy knows to bounds it is also for those whose sorrow knows no end. The Redeemer comes to all. On Tueday 21st December at 7pm is the time to learn anew that the star of Bethlehem shines in the darkest night even today.

Advent

Advent -The Divine breaks into human history.

'The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.'

When we truly see we don't have just sit, we can soar.

I was visiting the Segregation Unit. Seeing every prisoner in 'the block' daily is part of the statutory duties of the Chaplain. I opened the door of the first cell to be greeted enthusiastically, "O I am glad you've come because I want you to help me." He went on to tell me that his concern was not for himself but for a pigeon that was stuck on the exercise yard just outside his cell window. "Its stuck inside a bread bag," he said, "and its been there all night." It seemed odd but I went out to investigate. Sure enough this sad creature had walked into a plastic bread bag eating the crumbs. It had clearly enjoyed a fine meal of bread crumbs and then it must have looked up to discover it was hemmed in and surrounded on every side by the grey walls of its plastic prison! All it had to do was to back out the way it had come in but it lacked the intelligence to work that out. It was an easy thing for me to gently pull the plastic bag away. The bird blinked at me, bewildered. Suddenly realising it was free it spread its wings and flew away.



We stood and watched it soar into the blue enjoying its freedom. The prisoner peering through the bars of his cell was beaming. He was clearly gaining vicarious pleasure from securing the freedom of a fellow creature. "I wish you could do that for me Chaplain," he said. We laughed as we watched the pigeon circle above the yard and then fly over the high prison wall. It was an easy thing for me to remove the bird's blindfold so that it could see to soar.



Advent does that for us. "The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light." When you truly see - sitting can be replaced by soaring!

Christ the King

I love this festival.

It isn't about tub-thumping triumphalism. This mornings reading was not about the Sapphire shimmering throne of Revelation but a rough cross. The Gospel today was Jesus saying 'Father forgive them for they know not what they do.' It is in the continuous mode, Jesus said, and Jesus kept on saying, 'Father forgive them for they know not what they do.' As the nails were driven through the flesh of hands and feet; as the cross was raised on high and dropped with quivering jolt into its socket; as they gambled for his clothes, ..he said 'Father forgive....' Not the statement of a muscle flexing monarch but the of the King who came 'not to be served but to serve and give his life a ransom for many.' Love rules.

It has been a good day. The King is among us!

I stopped blogging because my blog was called Sabbatical Blog so once my Sabbatical was over it seemed incongruous to keep contributing to that legend! So I have changed the name though I hate to admit that the technicalities elude me. I needed Sarah's help (my lovely daughter) to make that change. However Pilgrim Pathway is how I feel about life. It is a constant journey of discovery.

I like the Celtic concept of pilgrimage - the discipline of - peregrinatio.

From this we get our word 'peripatetic.' It has the thought of 'wandering' but not aimlessly. It is the journey led by the Spirit; a pilgrimage of the heart.

An old Irish poem puts as follows:

To go to Rome

Is much trouble, little profit;

The King of Heaven, whom thou seekest there,

Unless thou bring Him with thee, thou wilt not find.

It is the journey I love and I don't travel alone.

Christmas Colours

Christmas at All Saints has a beauty that lifts the heart. Hundreds of candles illuminate the church ( a big job for the man with the match!) The tree scintillates with light and colour. Then there's the vestments.. purple on Christmas Eve; gold on Christmas Day and red on the feast of St Stephen. The vestments were made by Peter Stringer, an artist with needle and thread. He has left behind a legacy of colour and beauty to inspire.

As I donned the gold chasuble of Christmas I asked myself again "Why wear this?" It is extraordinarily beautiful. It speaks of the beauty of the Lord. That is the point, I guess. It isn't about me it's about God. Everything in worship should focus upon God.

I preached at the AoG Conference when I was 26 to a crowd of over 2000. I worked at the sermon with relentless enthusiasm and quite a bit of prayer. On the night I knew I couldn't have done better. I looked pretty sharp too in my aubergine suit and pink and aubergine tie. Two years later a young man said to me, "I remember you preaching at the Conference." "What do you remember," I asked. "I remember that aubergine suit," he said, "it was amazing." I wanted him to remember the sermon but he remembered the suit.

The suit of the 26 year me made a statement about me. The chasuble of Christmas made a statement about God. This Christmas at All Saints we again beheld the beauty of the Lord.

The Bible's tough bits.

Morning prayer is at 8.30 in each of the 3 churches of our team in turn. It is open to all but frankly it is usually just myself and my Curate, Laura. We don't get to read our favourite 'nice' bits of the Bible but faithfully use the lectionary for our OT and NT readings. So the other morning we were confronted with the grizzly spectacle of "vomit covered altars and no spot without filthiness." (Isaiah 28) Not the most inspiring picture first thing on a morning when you have just had your breakfast!

There are as many hearting sinking as heart lifting bits in the Bible but it is all Bible! Some times it is more brutal truth than blessed truth. When I was a prison chaplain I was often asked for a Bible by prisoners. I usually encouraged them to begin with the Gospel of John but some insisted on starting with the Old Testament. One shocked criminal said to me, "It's very violent this Bible! I didn't know God was so bloody vengeful and vicious." I felt a slight fit of pique that a violent robber serving 6 years should offer a moral judgement on the character of God!


Scripture is difficult. Exclusive devotion to sugar coated verses is not honest. A more questioning theology may lead to vulnerablity but it has a ring of reality. God is in the reality not the sentimentality.

Congratulations Paul and Katie

I'll never forget the 15th March 1979. Barbs and I set off at 5am in snowy conditions to travel to Croyden. In the back of the car we had an empty baby carry cot. At Birdhurst Lodge we were introduced to a little baby boy who looked up at us with dark eyes that knew far more any 5 week old baby ever should. We loved him instantly. He was ours. Adoption is an amazing process. In no time we were travelling back up north with a full carry cot.

Thirty years have slipped by. The dark eyed wise child is 30 years old and 6 feet five inches tall. I still have his little red velvet boots and remember how his little fat foot felt in them. His feet are now size fourteen and a half . The promise of wisdom in his 5 week old eyes have been fulfilled in his 30 year old life. In 1981 our joy doubled as Sarah arrived in our lives. What a blessing these two are to us.

Last weekend our son got engaged to Katie. He saved the big question for the evocative surroundings of Central Park, New York. The saga of the ring has too many complicated twists and turns for this little blog. Sarah was neck deep in the conspiracy and there were times pressures that took it right to the wire. However the ring arrived and Katie said "yes" and there is photographic proof of of sparkling diamonds in the 3rd finger.

I am not naive or sentimental. I know I can be an infuriating Dad and Paul can be a gloriously impossible son sometimes. It is part of the job description! but I wouldn't change a detail of our personal history. I am grateful to God for the gift of these extraordinary children.