A Prayer of St Richard of Chichester (1197-1253)
Thanks be to you, our Lord Jesus Christ,
for all the benefits which you have given us,
for all the pains and insults which you have borne for us.
Most merciful Redeemer, Friend and Brother,
may we know you more clearly,
love you more dearly,
and follow you more nearly,
day by day.
Today is, I guess, a kind of “personal patronal”. My parents were married in St Richard’s church in Chichester, and I am named as a result.
I cannot claim to live a life of frugal vegetarianism, nor can I hope to cultivate figs as a hobby. But in some small way, I can aspire to be like St Richard by aspiring to his aspiration. And on the occasions I do get to take a few moments in Chichester Cathedral when visiting my parents, I pause to echo his famous prayer at the shrine of St Richard.
I’ve been reading, but not blogging, the Lent materials. Somehow blogging stopped when we went away for a weekend, and never resumed. But now we have reached Passion Sunday – the time when we turn fully towards the Cross; towards the inevitability of Jesus’ death. To imagine what it would be like as one of the first disciples, worrying that you’d put your hope in a saviour who now seemed powerless; to imagine what it would be St Peter, the rock on which the church would be built, and feel so powerless as to need to deny your Lord; to be Mary, seeing your hopes dashed on Calvary.
Today’s thought from Maggi Dawn’s Giving it Up “It’s not fair” focuses on Luke 10:38-42 – the story of Jesus visiting Mary and Martha. Martha busies herself getting ready for Jesus, Mary sits and listens to what Jesus is saying. Jesus tells Martha, when she complains, that Mary has focussed on what matters whilst Martha has been distracted.
Maggi notes that it isn’t clear whether Martha is upset at Mary behaving in a way women traditionally didn’t – they were expected to serve the guests – or whether perhaps she is cross at herself for not spending time with Jesus. At any rate, the story tells us to slow down, to try not to be distracted, and to focus on Jesus. This evening I finally got the chance to do that – after the main Passiontide service, there was an opportunity to just sit and pray, and I did just that.
I don’t know how it keeps happening, but yet again there is a parallel between Maggi’s selection for the day and the #BigRead14 offering for today, Patience. The author, Stephen Cherry, prays for patience. For the time not to be busy like Martha but to listen like Mary.
Finally, as we’ve not had a hymn for a while, this
What does it feel like to be famous? Think of a famous movie star – how would it feel to walk in their shoes? Yes, that is me trying out some famous footprints above, although I’ve never really wanted to be famous.
Today Maggi gives us the second temptation of Jesus in the desert (Matthew 4:5-7), with a warning that desiring fame and fortune in the Church can be just as dangerous as throwing yourself off the temple – perhaps exhilarating on the way, but painful at the end.
Rachel, too, picks up on the analogy of the tele-evangelists, calling for generous giving almost as a condition of God’s blessing. These tele-evangelists conveniently forget, for a time, that the evangelical view is that we are justified by faith alone, and not by our acts – it is our faith in God that should save us, rather than our having donated. That’s not to say that giving money to the church is a bad thing; if we want to grow in our faith, and others to discover and grow in their faith too, we need preachers, and perhaps pulpits, and these cost money. But it is not a pre-condition for being saved – we do good works because we are saved, not in order to be saved. Perhaps I’d best stop this line of thought here as my theological knowledge doesn’t deep enough to develop my point.
Maggi also thinks about fame for spiritual gifts. I was thinking about this too. Two Advent Book Clubs ago, I looked at the ordination service for priests. The words of the ordinal seem to call for a degree of fame – but little fortune.
Fame, or infamy, may arise if we stick our heads above the parapet and share our faith. If we’re good at it, it may be fame – which should be turned to the fame of the faith, not of the preacher. If we’re bad at it, it may be infamy.
But fame need not mean wide renown. It could mean fame to just one person – the one person you invited to church that one time where something just took. Asked, many years later, they might say “I remember going to church with X. (S)he is the reason I first went; it was Jesus that made me stay”. And that is the sort of fame we can, and should, all aspire to – the important commission we all have (see, I’ve brought us back to today’s #BigRead14 prayer, Important Commission) – for God’s sake, not our own. For spiritual good fortune, not financial good fortune.
Stones into bread – the first temptation of Jesus in the desert – from Matthew 4:1-4 – perhaps the least well known of the temptations.
Maggi treats us to a snippet from her book on her blog – why the fast may not have literally been forty days and forty nights, but why forty is symbolically important. She reminds us that fasting is a reminder of both our own physical existence and our spiritual existence; the physical longing for that which we have given up and the spiritual realisation that we can give up without slavishly giving way to our physical wants; the physical as well as the spiritual Jesus.
As I prayed on this passage, I thought about the contrasts from today’s #BIGRead14 Barefoot Prayer, Psalm of the Dawn. I imagined being alone in the desert, longing in the cold nights for the warmth of the sun, warmed only by the Son. The baking heat of bread on the stones baked themselves in the desert. Waiting for dough to prove before it rises – waiting before the Son rises. Rushing both risking ruining both. The need to pray as well as fasting.
As befits a Sunday, there is a lightening of the mood in the #BigRead14 Barefoot Prayers by Stephen Cherry – an Awakening.
Stephen calls us to awake to God; to listen to him and what he wants. This is something it is all too easy to forget to do in Lent; to be fixated by what we have given up; to listen to the hymns in their minor keys; and to dwell on forgiveness for acts past without praying on acts future. I pray that I may redress this balance.
Luke 5:33-39 is Maggi’s choice for today – new wine and old wineskins. In the past I’ve perhaps skipped past the true message here.
I’ve assumed that as one of the more Biblically focussed networks of churches is called “New Wine” that new wine is seen as the best and that we are called to put it in new wineskins – newer forms of church coming ever closer to God and removing past errors (as if older forms of church saw through a glass darkly; newer forms see Jesus face to face).
Yet, as Maggi points out, old and new can co-exist and complement each other. A rich old red and a crisp young white can co-exist on a wine list, just as old and new can co-exist in church. It’s interesting to read Rachel’s take on this from her perspective as a final year ordinand. Pushing my restaurant analogy slightly further, few people would order that cheeky young sauvignon blanc to go with a steak; likewise, the Bordeaux is unlikely to sit well with the salmon.
Both old and new need to play to its strengths and each leaves room for the other. What seems most important to me is that whatever we do, we do it well. I’ve been to all sorts of church services, high and low, formal and informal, where it has been obvious that people are just Trying Too Hard. Whilst I know (from behind the scenes) that a good service where people encounter God is often hard work, done well that work should not be self-evident and the result focus just on God. The winemaker knows what she or he is good at, and grows the right sort of grapes for the wine they know how to make; occasionally as church we need to remember the same is true.
A short post today as the arthritis is playing up, we’re away at my parents and it is Dad’s birthday and Vi’s 100th birthday today.
Maggi sets us Micah 6:1-8 – God points out all he has done for his people, and then Micah asks what he should do for God? I hadn’t realised before reading Maggi’s book that Lenten fasting used to be a community thing; the whole community knew the rules as to what to give up, and it would be something far more “essential” than chocolate, or booze, or coffee. (What, you mean coffee isn’t essential?).
Perhaps there is a glimmer here in that way back when community rules dictated what should be given up, people had far less variety (and for all but the richest, far less luxury) than today? Yet even in the few years since Maggi wrote, the use of foodbanks is increasing, austerity bites and those swathes of the community giving up essentials again have little choice.
Lord – We pray for your coming again; we look for it, yearn for it. We count our blessings even as we give up one or two. Help us to fight for justice for those who aren’t giving up luxuries but essentials; help those in authority realise the cries of their people, as the Israelites cried out in their times of oppression; help justice come again to your earth. Amen.
I’m looking at today’s two resources the other way around. Firstly, the #BigRead 2014 challenge – Bread. Bread is a metaphor for Jesus – “I am the bread of life” – and each week we encounter him in bread and wine. Perhaps though we don’t think of ourselves as bread – to be transformed and grown as dough is kneaded, proved and then shared with friends and family to support them?
Maggi turns to Luke 12:22-34. She draws on the passage’s idea that God will provide for us if we but trust in him, and develops this through the idea that we’re not just giving stuff up for Lent in the hope we can atone for our sins. Indeed, only Jesus can bring us to forgiveness by his sacrifice on the cross. Perhaps our time fasting gives us time to meditate on that rather than enjoying a guilty moment of pleasure?
Maggi has us read Isaiah 58:6-12. The reading makes clear that fasting alone isn’t enough – in both senses of “alone”:
– Just abstaining from food or drink isn’t enough. We should think about alms as well, and praying. 40acts has a range of activities to inspire; last year I found Christian Aid’s Count Your Blessings helpful and am giving it ago this year – there’s a range of situations over the days to think and pray about, coupled with either a call for action or giving – and there’s an app to remind me.
– Maggi’s point which struck me most was slightly different. Doing it without God is maybe good for our physical health, but not our spiritual health. The time spent not doing whatever we were doing needs to be turned to God: this could be time aside to pray, or a quick prayer whenever those chocolate pangs strike.
Today’s BigRead14 Barefoot Prayer poem, Breath of God, has us calling on God to breathe on us and be with us throughout our day. Perhaps this fits with Maggi’s point about not fasting alone without God? That time to prayer as part of fasting allows God to breathe on us. And who knows? It might just stick once Lent is done.
Barefoot Prayers by Stephen Cherry, as used for the #BigRead14.
I can’t promise to blog diligently on both or even either book; rather when I have something that I particularly want to remember I shall write about it – mostly for my own benefit, so I won’t be offended if nobody reads!
Lent is here again. The Liturgy of Ash Wednesday is done – less exhortation, more invitation:
I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy word.
And it should be an invitation – though not one for a Christian to turn down lightly. We should want to give up and to take up; to prepare for the glory of Easter. The Easter that seemed so far away mid afternoon when I felt the sort of hunger pang that might normally be addressed by a trip to the “hotline table” at work to see if a little something sweet might be found.
Lent is here again. Maggi points us to Psalm 103 – we are reminded that:
“The days of man are but as grass : for he flourisheth as a flower of the field.
For as soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone: and the place thereof shall know it no more.”
Maggi explains that ashing is a balance. An over-emphasis on our sinfulness could be oppressive and perhaps lead us to believe redemption is just too hard – so it might not even be worth trying; yet it can be also a way of making us appreciate life.
A twitter pal drew on the same link between the remembrance of our own mortality and the Book of Common Prayer funeral service as the Archdeacon did at tonight’s Cathedral sermon; the same twitter pal also realised the last time someone had marked a cross on his forehead was his baptism – a celebration of the gift of life and the giving of a life to God.
Mulling on these two ideas brings me to the first of Stephen Cherry’s Barefoot Prayers for Lent (there’s been a few more in the build up since Sunday) – Repentance. Poem as prayer is welcome; one of the things I need to repent is not taking enough time to pray; to listen; to hear the voice of God in the storm; to hear not just the rush of time towards the return of my body to dust but the time to learn to see God clearly rather than through a glass darkly.
Advent has been and gone; it is twelfth night. Today the church remembers the visit of the magi – trusting in the revelation through study of scripture, they followed a star to Bethlehem.
And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt I have called my son.’
When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.’ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, ‘He will be called a Nazorean.’
Matthew 2:12-15; 19-23
This is the third time I’ve thought about this passage since Christmas. I’ve heard it preached on twice, and now I’ve been enjoying reading Maggi’s thoughts on the passage as well as those of Pam, Graham and Ruth.
An unexpected journey then – or rather several unexpected journeys.
A few days ago we thought about how Joseph probably hadn’t been planning to bring a pregnant Mary all the way to Bethlehem to give birth. Yesterday we thought about the magi’s trip to Bethlehem.
Today we get both return journeys. Maggi points out that these are unexpected journeys because of an encounter with Jesus. The magi are scared to return the same way because of Herod’s attitude to the challenge of a new King; Joseph has a similar concern about Herod’s son. Both of their paths changed by an encounter with God.
Now, I suppose, is the time to admit that the #adventbookclub has led to some unexpected journeys for me. Virtual journeys to share the views of both friends and those I’ve never met. Thoughts about the journeys of faith that have brought some of the club’s ‘members’ to an unexpected place in their ministry (ministry isn’t just for the clergy, either!). Our journey outside yesterday in the rain to chalk our door. And my own journey to think more deeply about the passages of scripture picked for us by Maggi (unknowingly, perhaps, as in 2007 the idea of a virtual book club may not have been top of her list!).
May each of our onwards journeys be unexpected – surprised by God when we most need it – and hopefully I will meet some of my fellow ABCers along the way. Amen.