In and out of the water

I have a few days off this week as a post-Christmas break. Given how busy the last couple of months have been, I feel like I really need it. However, it's proving very difficult to get work out of my mind.

For Christmas, a dear friend bought my wife and I a set of wonderful Druid Animal Oracle cards. We dipped into them this morning, to see what wisdom they might bring. Here is the card I drew:

The booklet which accompanies the cards gives this explanation of the meaning of the Frog card:

... unites the elements of water and earth, bringing joy, delight and healing in its singing and hopping, and leading you to the sacred spring  from which you may be refreshed and renewed... 
Nothing is what it appears to be, and life is more fun than you at first supposed!.. Look for the beauty and the magic behind appearances.

In five days' time, I will be back at work (and, to prepare for that, I may have to fit in some work even while I'm 'off'). I hope, in the short time between now and then, I can find time to linger by the sacred spring and that, despite myself, I can find the magic and fun behind the first appearances.

Figs, apples, trees

This Sunday I'm all into trees in my sermon. And, as we have the reading of the fig-tree in the vineyard (which has become the apple tree in the translation below!) I wanted to use that theme with my folks at church this Sunday.

Matthew's gospel, chapter 13 verses 6-9:

Then Jesus told them a story: “A man had an apple tree planted in his front yard. He came to it expecting to find apples, but there weren’t any. He said to his gardener, ‘What’s going on here? For three years now I’ve come to this tree expecting apples and not one apple have I found. Chop it down! Why waste good ground with it any longer?’

“The gardener said, ‘Let’s give it another year. I’ll dig around it and fertilize, and maybe it will produce next year; if it doesn’t, then chop it down.’”

Here is the final part of my sermon:

...Who is the gardener? Is this Jesus, coming to give us one more chance, to pick us up after we have fallen, to speak words of encouragement when we have failed to hit the mark and to set us on our way again? It seems likely that it is Jesus, for the gospel story is full of occasions when someone is given a second chance by Jesus. The key, it seems, is what we do with the second chance we are given - and the third, and the fourth and the fiftieth. Will we bear fruit? Will we strive to live up to our calling? Will we make the most of the opportunity to be who God calls us to be, acknowledging and valuing our differences and our individuality, and celebrating that in others? 

Welcome

In this season of Lent Christians look towards the cross, the place where God most fully demonstrates his love for his world.

But though a sign of love for Christians, the cross has often been wrongly used to generate emotions which get in the way of our coming to God: guilt, shame, unworthiness, self-blame.

It may help to recall the one thing which Jesus leaves his friends before he goes to the cross. Not rules, not a list of instructions, not even a religion, but a meal:

When the hour came, he took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer...Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, ‘This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.'

A meal is a place where relationship is made and strengthened. A meal is a sign of welcome, acceptance and belonging. A meal is an act of equality and of healing, both for body and soul.

A meal cannot be forced or enjoyed under pressure; it is always an invitation. And there are many in 21st society whose lives are tired and bruised from having been mistrusted, betrayed or forgotten and who are seeking healing, welcome and acceptance. There are many who feel, through experience or intuition, that church does not welcome them, or that God is not interested in them or that faith is not possible. Where is their place at the table? Who is preparing the meal to which they are invited?

And what of you and I? Perhaps we are among this number, sharing some of these feelings. Perhaps we, too, need to hear the invitation which followers of Jesus have listened for down the ages. Or perhaps we simply need to be reminded of that invitation so that we can learn again how to offer it to others.

The poem 'Love' speaks beautifully of invitation and welcome. It is an encounter between the character of Love which is, perhaps, the figure of Christ, and a guest who seeks a welcome. As the poem unfolds, the guest cannot help but feel that she is not worthy to be present at the meal. Surely there is some great sin which means that she should be turned away?

But, no. Love will not hear of it and Love can see only the guest's need of rest and of refreshment. It can be our welcome, too, if we will accept it.

Love

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
        Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
        From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
        If I lack'd anything.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
        Love said, You shall be he.
I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
        I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
        Who made the eyes but I?

Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them; let my shame
        Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
        My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat.
        So I did sit and eat.
       
                George Herbert

September endings and beginnings

As I went into the garden a couple of mornings ago, I noticed that the brambles reaching in over the fence were full of ripening blackberries. It was about ten to seven, and all was still and quiet. This sign from nature prompted me to realise that the season is changing. There was something in the way the light fell, something in the temperature of the air, that spoke of the end of summer, and of the first dawning of autumn.

I always feel a sense of excitement at that first realisation that the one season is giving way to another; a sense of awe at the rhythm of the earth which is beating whilst you and I are occupied with the concerns of day-to-day living. There is something at work which is greater, older, more patient than ourselves. The blackberries were a small miracle which spoke of the energy of the earth, of its generosity and of its continuity.

The month of September is a gateway from one way of living to another. With the arrival of September, we realise that the carefree months of the summer are over, and that any plans we had for that season must now be put aside until next year, God willing. Although the leaves are still on the trees, the days are shortening, the sun's power is waning and our thoughts turn from adventure and travel to the securities of hearth and home. Our spirits are warmed less by the sun and more by the ripening and gathering of fruits and seeds.

But with every ending, there is also a beginning. September is the time for new voyages and horizons as the school year begins, young women and men set sail for university, college or employment. Young children leave the nest of home to learn to use their wings at nursery and playgroup.

In this season of letting go and turning inwards there is an opportunity for us to embrace new elements in our spiritual lives. What must we let go of in order to further ripen our relationship with God? What seeds do we need to plant into our spirits during these quieter months, so that new life may spring up with the new shoots of spring time?