So what do you do? I work for the church where everything goes wrong

I spent a little time at the recent annual meetings talking with many of the new ministers and student ministers. They are a great bunch by the way. In fact, in many ways, I think it is my favourite aspect of annual meetings each year, getting to know these talented and interesting people. I spent quite a bit of the time talking to and getting to know Peter Flower who will be joining both of the congregations I serve for a year, from September, as part of his ministerial training. He is an interesting man, he has a quiet depth about him. He was the primary musician of the week and is certainly gifted. As we were talking, he asked me about the congregations. So, I told him a little about the places and the people. I talked about our warmth and heart, that we have a humour, but we are far from perfect. In fact, I said we were a bit like the church that the minister served in the piece “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong” by Elea Kemler. I referenced the final paragraph, that goes as follows.

“But I also imagine a God who is touched and a little honored by our efforts, however halting, to worship and give praise. I imagine a God who is moved by our attempts to care for one another and to name the things we know as holy. There is a warmth in this congregation that is new to me, a simple friendliness that shines through the fumblings and failures, a love that makes the ragged edges smooth. I have always wanted to believe that our mistakes aren't the most important parts of us. I have always wanted to believe that kindness and compassion matter more than anything. I sense that I can learn this here.”

This is spirituality in community to me, “The Church Where everything Goes Wrong”

It was lovely the next morning to see Peter lead worship and to share the piece “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong” by Elea Kemler. Peter has a lovely and touching way about him, there is a warmth and quiet depth too. He is not showy, but he pays attention. No doubt there will be moments where things go wrong in our time together, there will be laughter, but I also witnessed compassion and kindness and this is what matters most in ministry and life. It is certainly what church ought to be about.

Now it seems I was obviously tempting fate, to bring up this piece, as I witnessed an example of “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong” over Easter weekend. One element I loved was the fact that it involved both congregations. It began on Saturday at the rehearsal of Melissa and Graeme’s wedding. Everything was organised to precisions. Melissa’s friends and bridesmaids were making sure everything was perfectly in place. There was a problem though. Melissa’s mum Penny was not there for the rehearsal, as she was at the dentist trying to get the cap of her tooth replaced. We rehearsed the wedding to the word, including how the couple would proceed in, with Derek walking his daughter down the aisle. It was choreographed to precision, you would expect nothing less from dancers. The bride and some of the brides maids were dancers. We even planned which side Derek would walk, due to his walking stick, we had to break with tradition. Everything was in its place. How could anything go wrong.

I went off on Easter morning to lead worship at Urmston, no Derek of course as he was preparing for the wedding, the family were ensuring nothing went wrong. I then headed to Altrincham to lead the service, which would be followed an hour later by the wedding. People began to arrive early, just as the Easter service ended. I suggested they join the congregation for refreshments. They did creating a beautiful atmosphere around the place in the Easter sunshine. All was going well and then the hoodoo struck, “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong”. Derek had forgotten his walking stick. What to do. He couldn’t walk his daughter down the aisle without it. So, we searched around. Gwyneth, the chair of the Altrincham congregation shot off home, as she thought she had one. She didn’t. Someone found a branch broken off from a tree, just in case there was nothing else. I found a large umbrella. Someone thought they might have a spare one in their car. Sadly, they didn’t. As more guests arrived, we asked the bizarre question “Do you have a walking stick”. Well one thought he did, in fact it was one that had been up the Himalaya’s. This seemed like a good omen. So off he went to fetch it. He returned just in time, so all was well. Ken the retired Vicar saved the day. No doubt he knows something about “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong”

The service went beautifully well, so much love was shared. Folk coming together to help one another in joyous celebration. A tooth even arrived at the reception, sent via Amazon. This was soon fitted and Penny was able to enjoy the afternoon and evening. So much kindness, love and compassion shared by all. Afterall this is what really matters, such a beautiful example of “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong”

I am the minister who serves “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong”, I think it suits who I am. I am not in any sense orthodox. I remember early in my time with the good folk of Altrincham and Urmston a congregant saying that I was unlike any minister they had met before. I also remember Bill Darlison saying in response to this “Danny you are unlike any minister that anyone has met before.” It was meant as a compliment, I think! I have my shortcomings, as well as my capabilities. I do think I exemplify kindness, love and compassion though, most of the time. I give all that have and from my sometimes wounded heart. I see examples of this amongst the crop of new ministers and I certainly see it in Peter. He will be his own man, of this I am certain. It is the only way to minister, you cannot create the perfect AI minister. Well, I hope to God you cannot.

Now I know I’m not your typical minister, I’m not sure I’m your typical anything, I’m not sure I’d want to be in any case. People who don’t know me are often surprised when they discover what I do. I was asked by someone recently and a few weeks later they confessed to being shocked at first.

This of course brings to mind another question that I’m often asked...

“So as a minister what do you?” Or sometimes, “what do you the rest of the week?” I’m sure it is something most folk wonder about from time to time. I’m also asked how is it going, the job I mean? Again, this is hard to answer. My usual response is “Well they haven’t chased me out of town yet.” Which is quickly followed by, “I am loved, they love me.” In fact, it is one of the few things of certainty I have in life, that I am loved.

It brought to mind a series of answers given by 5 olds when asked what the minister does, by Bruce T Marshall. The children gave some great responses and I do love his final concluding words

“The minister talks to people when there are problems because it’s better to talk about problems than to hit each other.” What an elegant statement to come from a five year old, to come from anybody.

I’ll let that statement stand. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I do believe that it points to what the role of a minister is or what is means to minister. Now of course etymologically speaking to minister is to serve and to serve is to love in its truest sense. Now the love I am talking of here is agape love, self giving love, love without prejudice. Which I believe is perfectly exemplified in these words from Matthew’s Gospel chapter ch 5 vv 48 “Therefore be the perfect, like your father in heaven is perfect”. This is the love that is the root on which ministry must grow. Perfect love is love without prejudice, love for all regardless of where a person has been, who they are, where they are from, what they may or may not have done in the past. This is the love that is expressed in the prodigal son parable. To me this is the essence of love and service; this is the essence of ministry. It is the purpose of my role and it is the purpose of the communities I serve. This I believe is the spirit that must run through all that I do and all that the communities do. Now of course I fall short of this and our community of people fall short of this, but we do aspire, we aim at this and accept that it is ok to fall short. It’s ok! It is also ok to laugh when things go wrong, as we did on Sunday afternoon.

No one can get everything right. I need to remember that, and we need to remember that. Like Elea Kemler I can get frustrated at things not working out they way I would like them too, I am sure we all do. That said just like in “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong” I too want to believe that kindness and compassion are what matter the most, to me this is what service and love are all about. This is my hope and dream, to model this Love.

The Unitarian tradition emphasises not only the priesthood, but also the prophet hood of all believers. I am not the only minister in the congregations; we minister as a community of individuals not only to ourselves, but also to our wider community. We offer love and service to all. We welcome all, to come as they are exactly as they are, but not to expect to leave in exactly the same condition; to be transformed in a loving and accepting way when they leave this place and to carry that out into their world.

To minister is to be a guest if only for a short while in the life of another human being. This begins by being both a good host and guest.

Religion for me, or at least the free religion that we aspire to be is about love and service. It’s about walking with people in their despair and their hope, in their suffering and their bliss and all that lies in between. It’s about accepting them as they are in all that they are. This is love in its truest sense. It’s about offering perfect love and making that love manifest in all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do.

So, in answer to the question, what do I do? Well, I minister to “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong”. A place where kindness, love and compassion matter most. A place of acceptance of the perfectly imperfect in this world, who aspire to offer perfect Love, a Love without prejudice. A place where anyone may feel they belong. A place where we are unafraid to laugh at ourselves and one another, where we take what we do seriously, but not ourselves too seriously. I give thanks for all who come and join with me, to sing with.

Come sing a song with me, come sing a song with me, come sing a song with me. That I might know your mind. And I’ll being you hope, when hope is hard to find and I’ll bring a song of love and a rose in the winter time.

Thank you for joining with me.

This is “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong”, Welcome!

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

From Nothing to Everything, from Despair to Hope: What Makes You Want To Sing Alleluia

Happy Easter

Easter begins in emptiness and despair. In the example from Mark, the three women go to the tomb and find it empty. They are told Jesus has been raised and to go tell the disciples. They flee in amazement and terror, they tremble in awe. They are in utter despair. The despair soon turns to hope, a new hope, a fresh hope, respair. This is the message at the heart of Easter. This is what folk sing praises to. That new hope can be born again, even in the bleakest of despair. That said it is up to us to bring that hope to life.

I woke up exhausted on Tuesday morning. I spent some time with friends I sit in meditation with regularly. We shared together and I began to feel a little revived. I was tired after the annual meetings and looked ahead at the things I have to do in the next 10 days. I wondered how am going to find the strength to come through all this. I had a few personal troubles too. The loss of one of my oldest friends and another friend who was really struggling. I began to work on the tasks of the week. Another friend called who is also grieving, part of me didn’t want to take the call, but I did. He began to off-load and share his struggles and then asked me about my stuff. For once I told him. It was interesting what came out, including my struggles to uncover what to explore this Easter. As we spoke clarity came, as did human connection. There was something beautiful in the connection. I shared about a hilarious conversation I had with some young new and student ministers I had been engaged with at the annual meetings. We moved onto conversations about the difficulties one can face in expressing ourselves. A little later I went out again on a pastoral call. Interestingly in this conversation I spoke much more about myself than I would normally. The person I visited wanted to know things about me, and asked directly. Again, it was a lovely conversation. We both shared about our lives. Those dark moments, those times of renewal and re-birth, of discovering new things, of coming out of the empty cave of unknowing, to be born into new light and life once again.

I returned home and got down to trying to write this sermon, I had made a start when there was a knock at the door. It was the man who had come to read the chapel gas meters. Molly and me let him in the cellar. As he stepped out of the darkness of the cellar he began to ask me questions about the chapel and Easter. He then began to tell me about himself and his own beliefs. He called himself a cafeteria Catholic. He told me about his heritage and what he thought about resurrection and Easter. He preached me a wonderful Universalist Easter sermon. I invited him to take the service this Sunday, but he didn’t turn up. I left and smiled and then returned to writing the sermon. I thought about all three conversations and I sang songs of Hallelujah. I sang a song of praise for that spirit that moves through us as I stood in the chapel gardens surrounded by the pink cherry blossom, that had already fallen.

I then began to think about Easter. How do I speak about Easter? What do I think of Easter? What does Easter mean to me? Well as with everything you should start at the beginning. Easter begins in grief, in emptiness. Something I was actually experiencing as I sat down to write. Something that had been on backburner these last few days, as I had been caught up in my work, and been away with many folk at our annual meetings.

There is something deeply universal about Easter. There is something in its spirit that can speak to all people in every culture at every time and in every place. It points to those moments in all our lives when something deeper within us comes to life, or perhaps it comes back to life. If we truly enter into what is at the core of Easter, its spirit, it can bring us to a deeper understanding of life right here, right now, in our world. I thought of this as I looked at the life so alive in the chapel gardens, as well as those many conversations I had had with folk, folk in grief and suffering, who are coming back to life. All examples of Love born again from that empty tomb.

I thought about what Tony (The gas man) had spoken of, about resurrection and what he believes lives on. It is possible to celebrate Easter without having to believe in the actual resurrection of the body of Jesus, which is of course the traditional Christian view. The early followers of Jesus believed a variety of things. You can believe in Easter without having to accept the uniqueness of Jesus’ resurrection. You see there is something deeply universal in the spirit of Easter that has the capacity to awaken everyone’s spirit regardless of whether or not they believe every aspect of the Gospel accounts.

Easter can also be understood as the festival of the renewal of life that comes at springtime; Easter can be seen as the resurrection of the earth after the seeming death of winter. These last few weeks you surely have felt powerfully this deep sense of the renewal of life. The other evening I could both feel and smell this powerfully in the air. There is a real electricity in the air at springtime. Now of course the renewal of the seasons is recognised in the pre-Christian roots of our Easter celebrations. According to the Venerable Beed the word Easter is after all derived from “Eostre” the Anglo-Saxon Goddess of spring; the goddess of fertility and renewal.

The Easter “mythos” can also be seen as the triumph of the human spirit, over all that would crush it, even death itself. This triumph also has pre-Christian roots, such as the Jewish “Passover” which of course Jesus and his disciples were commemorating on what has become known as Maundy Thursday. In Latin speaking countries Easter is known as “Pascha” or similar words that are derived directly from “Pesach”. Easter isn’t even called Easter in many parts of the world. The root of Easter lies in the Jewish festival of Passover. Remember that Jesus was a Jewish Rabbi who wanted to bring the religion back to the people. In the eyes of those who followed him, he was the Messiah. This is why they cried Hossanah as he entered the city at the beginning of the week. Last Sunday was Passover.

Jesus’ resurrection is a powerful example of love overcoming death; a perfect example of the spirit of love living on even after physical death. I think it is impossible to argue that the spirit that was in Jesus did not live on after his bodily death. The spirit of love that incarnated in his life has survived all that we have done to it these last 2,000 years as we have remembered him, rather badly.

All love lives on, again something Tony (the gas ma) spoke passionately about. All we have to do to bring it once again to life is remember those who have touched our hearts and souls. What has been bound into one another’s hearts cannot be unbound. Love is stronger than death. This for me, above everything else, is the universal “mythos” that is at the root of Easter. A festival for everyone.

I awoke on Wednesday morning in a new spirit. I had to go into Manchester first thing, as I had to sign something legal, for a dear friend who is herself grieving the loss of her beloved dog. I saw things differently as I headed out. I enjoyed the pink snow covering the gardens. My eyes felt raised up once again, I saw new vision, new hope, not expectation or optimism, but new hope, fresh hope, “Respair”. I realised that my eyes had been a bit down recently. I knew it was grief, a grief I had not been fully aware of up to then. As I travelled home on the tram, a lovely poem “Vision” by May Thielgaard Watts, came to me.

"Vision" by May Thielgaard Watts

To-day there have been lovely things
I never saw before;
Sunlight through a jar of marmalade;
A blue gate;
A rainbow
In soapsuds on dishwater;
Candlelight on butter;
The crinkled smile of a little girl
Who had new shoes with tassels;
A chickadee on a thorn-apple;
Empurpled mud under a willow,
Where white geese slept;
White ruffled curtains sifting moonlight
On the scrubbed kitchen floor;
The under side of a white-oak leaf;
Ruts in the road at sunset;
An egg yolk in a blue bowl.

My love kissed my eyes last night.

Isn't it lovely. Now the ears of my ears are awake. Now the eyes of my eyes are open.

When we live in heart, in courage, in love, we can see these signs of hope everywhere. It comes in the little things.

All we have to do is keep our senses open, in order to see these things. It begins with our hearts and souls.

Today is Easter, let us rejoice and be glad; let us celebrate the joy that is this day whatever it may mean to us. For no matter the conditions of our lives, the state of our hearts. The lives of those dear to us and the struggles in this our shared world, the spirit of Easter can be born again and anew, in our hearts and lives. Life continues. Spring is here, the new life cannot be denied. Easter is here, let us rejoice and sing Hallelujah!!!

And what is Easter? Well it is different, perhaps unique for each and every one of us. What makes you want to rise up and sing Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah?

What is your song, the one that makes you want to feel like you belong. I was lovingly listening to the new bird song on Wednesday, it made me want to sing hallelujah.

I believe that each of us have a song in our hearts, that will bring us hope when hope is hard to find. We need to find a way to learn it, sing it and share it and thus help one another through those dark times, to times of love and joy, so we can enjoy the milk and honey. So that we can bring the spirit of Easter alive in us and through us.

For we all experience alleluia moments, isn’t this the heart of Easter; We all have alleluias in our lives, those moments of triumph and wonder, of insight and rebirth; we all have alleluia’s, those moments of transformation, when our way of being in the world is fundamentally changed; alleluia moments when we are strengthened and life is deepened; alleluia moments when we feel more connected, more whole; we all have moments when we want to sing alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

That said there cannot be Easter without Good Friday. Hope is born from Despair. Easter begins with an empty tomb and fear. It is often the same with all life, this is the universal message of Easter. Sometimes our most profound transformations emerge out of the loss we face in life. This may be the empty hole left by grief, at the loss of a beloved, something so many are facing. Or it may be one of those thousands of lesser losses we experience in life. All forms of grief are barren, empty places. They can feel utterly God-forsaken, where all hope is gone, that leave us in sorrow and suffering not singing songs of alleluia, but instead singing song of lamentation.

This though is not the end. Feeling forsaken is not the same as being forsaken. The message of Easter is that love triumphs over death. That new life is born again, like those spring buds of hope, or the poppy born out of the battlefields of the First World War. Hope is born once again from the despair, just as life continues on into this awakening Spring. The Cherry blossom has been and almost gone, but it will return once again.

The Universal message of Easter is the power of love coming back to life, transforming in new and wonderful ways. It can happen at any time in our lives. Easter implores us to live, to allow the renewal and resurrection of our souls, to risk living life alive, fully alive, to love abundantly. To risk our hearts in love. To take the seeds that are planted in us, water and nurture them until they blossom and can be handed to another. To take the gift of blossoms and warm them with the sunshine of our souls and the rain of our energy, until they bring forth fruit.

Easter begins with an empty tomb, but that ending is just another beginning. Life continues on, in fact new life is born again in the emptiness and the loneliness and the despair.

So let us roll our own stones away and let love once again incarnate in our lives...In all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do...

Happy Easter, Alleluia, Alleluia.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

The Hill’s are Alive with the Sound of Music: Universalism Inspired Oscar Hammerstein

A friend of mine sent me a message the other day stating “I’ve never been called a nerd before, I quite like it”. She had been gently teased earlier in the day as she had been showing a group of us an app on her phone showing the number of inclines in the Peak District she had recently climbed and all the ones she has yet to climb. She seemed so thrilled with this. She has in recent times taken to going off on her own on long country walks, buying maps and all sorts of things. She is having a ball and it is wonderful to see such enthusiasm for life. I replied to her message “Climb every mountain”. I meant both metaphorically and literally. I am sure she will give it a go. Later in the week she told me “15 since mid February, so another 80 to go!!!! I’m so nerdy (nerdy these days instead of needy). She later informed me that these little hill's are named "Ethel's". Named after "Ethel Mary Bassett Haythornthwaite (née Ward) MBE (18 January 1894 – 11 April 1986), who was an English environmental campaigner, activist and poet.[1][2] She was a pioneer of countryside protection as well as town and country planning both locally and nationally."

“Climb every mountain” has been on my mind these last few days. I was smiling and singing it as I drove between Urmston and Altrincham last Sunday. The seed had been planted by John Poskitt and Graham Harrison who had heard reference to Oscar Hammerstein II’s childhood and upbringing at what was described as a Unitarian Sunday school in New York and how this was a great influence on his life and work. So, this week I’ve been climbing every mountain myself and explored Hammerstein and the influence of Universalism, a faith based on hope, exemplified in songs such as “Climb every mountain” “You’ll never walk alone”, “Cockeyed optimist”.

Here is an example of religious influences in the following quote by Hammerstein

“In art the goodness of the human spirit must be fighting for its life. People must leave the theatre the church, or the lecture hall, with a deeper faith and higher interest in human kind, than they brought in with them”.

His optimism grew from his sense in the joy of living. He engaged with what was beautiful in the world and encouraged those who engaged with him to see it too. He was not denying the troubles of life, just pointing to life’s beauty. He sang the joy of living in all its mystery. In so doing he was preaching the Gospel of Hope, the Universalism of his childhood.

Again as he wrote:

“I know the world is filled with troubles and many injustices. But reality is as beautiful as it is ugly. I think it is just as important to sing about beautiful mornings as it is to talk about slums. I just couldn't write anything without hope in it.”

Or in this song from “Oaklahoma

Oh, what a beautiful mornin',
Oh, what a beautiful day.
I got a beautiful feelin'
Ev'erything's goin' my way.

Hammerstein’s father was from a Jewish family and was prominent in New York theatre. His mother was from a British liberal protestant family, I suspect Unitarian. As a child he attended “The Church of the Divine Paternity” in New York. This is now the Fourth Universalist Society in the City of New York and part of the Unitarian Universalist denomination. The Unitarians and Universalist became one denomination in the 1960’s not long after Hammerstein’s death due to stomach cancer.

He carried his spirit of Universalism with him throughout his life and work. It was how he engaged with life. Foundational to him was the following “The Fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man and salvation by character”. Now of course this is old fashioned language today, man in those days meant every human being, not just males. The God of love that he believed in, loved all equally. You will find Universalist themes throughout Hammerstein’s lyrics; themes such as hope, compassion and the potential for human goodness, were threaded throughout the lyrics of Oklahoma, Carousel, South Pacific and the King and I. It is incredible to think that this joy filled musical theatre was some of the most powerful social commentary of its time.

Just think of the following from “South Pacific” reflecting on the internalised racism of Lt Cable and Nellie

You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear,
You’ve got to be taught from year to year,
It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear—
You’ve got to be carefully taught!

You’ve got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a different shade—
You’ve got to be carefully taught.

Hammerstein’s work revealed his Universalism so beautifully; these musicals are a wonderful exploration of his theological depth. In his work you see the Universalists belief in the possibility for change, for hope, for human progress. You see God at the heart of this, a loving God who accepts all, a Divine Unity; you see the possibility for redemption and the restoration of the soul, as well as his belief in the social Gospel and in the assertion of human unity. Perhaps we ought to re-examine some of these musicals in these divisive times. They are filled with joy too, something we all need.

Hammerstein was hope filled, he believed in the God of love and that this love is what ought to be at the heart of what we do. He wrote constantly about love, in its many and varied forms. He also sang about never losing sight of what is wholesome and beautiful in this world. Something I’ve focused on much in recent weeks. As my friend has as she’s been climbing every mountain. The hills are alive with the sound of music. May it fill all our hearts.

Hammerstein faith was about how we engage with this world. It was a conversation fuelled by hope and possibility and beauty, despite the very real troubles we all face. It is important how we face and greet life. The conversations we have with life and the conversations life has with us.

Another friend sent me a message this week. She had been reading a book I gave to her as a present several years ago. It was a funny exploration around the origins of words. The book is “The Etymologicon” by Mark Forsyth

The word was “Ciao”, a greeting that has become universal through the world over the last hundred years. It came from an old Venetia dialect word “S’Ciao” which was translated as “I am your slave”. Clearly it has rather unpleasant origins. That said in time this meaning evolved to mean “I’m at your service” or “I am here for you if you need me”. So, “Ciao” became a way to express deep respect, loyalty and trust. It became a universal phrase that encompassed everyone in spite of social standing. It was a greeting that expressed deep devotion and love. Maybe Oscar Hammerstein ought to have turned it into a song. I would love to sing it, “Ciao baby!”

I received another message from another friend this week. She is back home visiting family in Transylvania. It brought to my mind those beautiful and soulful people and their lovely phrase, which like “ciao” is both a greeting and a way of saying goodbye. The phrase being “Isten aldjon”, meaning “God bless”. I love that both “ciao” and “Isten aldjon” are ways of saying hello and waving goodbye. There is something loving, respectful and beautiful about them. They are lovely ways of beginning and ending a conversation. It matters how we greet the world and how the world greets us.

As I have lived through this week I have been noticing how I engage with people and life. What my conversation with everything is and its conversation with me. Like the spring weather it has been ever changing. Sometimes four seasons in one day.

The poet philosopher and former marine zoologist David Whyte sees our lives as focused on what he calls "the great conversation" we have with ourselves and the great mysteries of life which surround us. He calls this “the conversational nature of reality.” Like Whyte I have come to believe that the essence of any real conversation is attention. It is about paying attention to that space where we meet life and life meets us, I suspect that it is in this space that God truly comes to life, or at least this is what my experiences teach me. This is a song I love to sing, the joy of living in all its mystery.

I love the way that David describes the conversational nature of reality, that we are constantly in conversation, whether we are speaking or not, so long as we are alive, awake and fully engaged.

This is beautifully illustrated in his poem “Everything Is Waiting for You?”

After Derek Mahon

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

I love the way that Whyte, through is words, encourages us to “feel the grand array; the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice.” He insists that the frontier of this profound reality of the world can be and is found in “the intimacy of your surroundings,” in “the way the soap dish enables you, or the window latch grants you freedom.” The key is in this line. That, “Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.” That it is about being alive to everything and allowing everything to be alive to you. This is more than just being mindful, it is about being in conversation with everything and everything with you; with everything in you and you in everything.

Everything is waiting for you. Everything is waiting for all of us. The conversation is reality. The beauty and profound nature of reality is everywhere, in everything, even the kettle boiling as you make that cup of tea for a guest. All we have to do is bring our attentiveness to the frontier between self and the rest of creation, and then enter into conversation with it. We must come out of abstraction and back into the world.

The spiritual life is about living more spiritually alive, in this life. It is about increasing our sensitivity to life itself. It is about being increasingly affected and then becoming more effective in life.

I have come to understand that at its core the spiritual life is about relationships; relationships with life, with each other, with ourselves and with God, whatever we understand God to be. And how do relationships develop? Well through conversation, through sharing ourselves with each other, not by losing ourselves, but becoming ourselves through our conversations with the other, lower and upper case. We relate through conversation and thus we grow spiritually, through relationship.

We have to believe we belong here of course, that we do not reject our humanity. Everything is waiting for us. More than that everything needs us to engage in the conversation of life. Life needs all of us. Everything is waiting for us.

Everything is waiting for us.

So I invite you to join with me in the conversational nature of reality.

When you walk through a storm
Keep your chin up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark.

At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet, silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart,
And you’ll never walk alone!

You’ll never walk alone.

Life is alive all around us and within us. We are part of it, and we play a crucial role within it. May the love that is God come alive with in us. Let’s climb every mountain, who knows what we will find at the summit.

For the hill’s are alive with the sound of music.

My heart wants to beat
Like the wings of the birds that rise
From the lake to the trees.
My heart wants to sigh
Like a chime that flies
From a church on a breeze,

To laugh like a brook
When it trips and falls
Over stones in its way,
To sing through the night
Like a lark who is learning to pray!

I go to the hills
When my heart is lonely;
I know I will hear
What I’ve heard before—
My heart will be blessed
With the sound of music,
And I’ll sing once more.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"