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"

Between Winter and Spring a Lenten Journey

“Lent” by Bruce T Marshall

The season of Lent takes place on the Christian calendar for forty days before Easter.

Lent does not exactly catch the popular fancy. Many of the references I hear trivialize it: “This year I’m giving up liver for Lent.” Or treat it as opportunity for commercial promotion. “Macaroni and cheese! The perfect meal for Lent!”

Lent is defined as a time of fasting and penitence in preparation for Easter. In this day and age both fasting and penitence may seem peculiar.

And yet during this season of Lent – when the earth is still barren from winter – our lives too may seem on hold, waiting for a miracle.

It’s a time when I become deeply aware of the suffering in the congregation, the community, the world. On any given day we all look pretty much all right, but beneath the appearances many struggle.

It’s a time when I revisit the sorrows I have caused others. Old memories that hide from summer’s sun and spring’s brilliant colors and the excitement of fall activities – these make themselves known during this fallow time of the year.

It’s a time when “doing without” seems the appropriate way to nourish our spirituality. As the earth still is “doing without,” as we reach the end of our store of energy and spirit that was gathered and packed away during the harvest. Now we do without and await a word of hope – the promise of a future.

Religious liberals sometimes are accused of wanting Easter without Lent or Good Friday. Given our attitude of hope and affirmation, we may skip past the struggles that give birth to new life.

But I have not found that to be true. Suffering and struggle come to us, whether there is room for it in our theology or not. The faith that speaks to this experience is not specifically Christian but universal – that there is meaning in our struggles, that we may be transformed in our suffering. That Easter awaits beyond the barrenness of this season of Lent."

Last Friday evening I attended an event with some friends in Northwich, a part of Cheshire I am unfamiliar with. We travelled there and back being guided by Sat Nav, trusting the voice of the lady in the machine. It is amazing how reliant on technology I have become, I know I am not alone in this. On the way back home there were many diversions, which the machine couldn’t quite cope with. The voice in the machine kept trying to get me to go one way, but I had to ignore it and basically trust my instincts. I did eventually find my way back to Altrincham, although it took a lot longer than it should have. We made the most of it, we told many stories of our lives and enjoyed a lot of fun driving in the dark in unfamiliar territory. I know that this time in the wilderness brought the three of us closer together.

I have driven both of these friends to numerous events over the last few years and it is usually quite a fun adventure. One in particular always brings a smile to my face when I think of the crazy conversations we have had. She is as stubborn and belligerent as I can be. I recall a conversation we had this time last year when she was complaining about the cold. I remember at the time saying “Well it is winter” to which she said “that it wasn’t, winter is November December and January but spring begins in February.” I spent a little time explaining when winter is meant to be and the four seasons in general, but she wasn’t having any of it. Our conversations often go like this. A few days later she finally relented after scouring the internet obsessively in an attempt to prove me wrong. I have lost count of the number of similar conversations we have had over the last few years.

It is now March and we have stepped into the season of Lent, but we are still experiencing wintery weather. It even snowed this week. There have been some signs of spring these last few weeks but it is not quite here yet. I know most of us want winter over and the new life of spring. We want Easter and the re-birth of spring to come oh so soon, but first we have to travel through the barren wilderness of March and Lent. Soon though the new life will be here, we will soon be enjoying that gorgeous pink snow that comes with the cherry blossom, the new life will soon be with us.

We have entered the season of Lent. I hope you all enjoyed your pancakes on Tuesday. On what some still call Shrove Tuesday, or as many prefer to call it “Pancake Day”, or as I prefer to call it “Flat Yorkshire Pudding Day”…How do you eat yours?

The following day “Ash Wednesday”, for Christians, marks the beginning of 40 days of fasting, reflection, penitence and self-sacrifice that lead up to Easter, the day of re-birth re-newal and new beginnings.

Lent is a time of reflection, a time of temptation, a time to observe and find answers. It’s a time of preparation. These forty days or so are meant to be a barren time, where we strip ourselves down of luxuries and distractions to give birth to new treasures that can be symbolically born again at Easter time. Not an easy time and a time to experience a sense of loneliness as we enter our the inner wilderness.

In the account found in Matthews Gospel, Jesus is “led by the spirit” into the wilderness, a place of transformation and temptation. He is taken to the pinnacle of the temple and to the top of a high mountain. Here he is offered the world, but rejects the allure of an easier celebrated more obvious path. Instead he chooses the road less travelled, the heroes path. He is tempted by “Satan” but resists the temptation.

This is a universal tale; many of the great sages went on similar journeys, before embarking on their missions to heal their people. The Buddha had to leave the comforts of home, abandon his weeping family, shave his head and don the robes of a world renouncing ascetic, when he began his journey to discover a cure for the pain of the world. Long before his revelations Muhammad would retreat to Mount Hira, outside of Mecca, where he fasted, performed spiritual exercises and gave alms to the poor. He did this in an attempt to discover a remedy for the troubles of his time. When Ghandi began his mission he left the comforts of the elite in which he had lived his whole life and travelled to India carefully observing the plight of the ordinary people.

During their times in the wilderness the great sages found their answers. Through taking the road less travelled, the hard road, the difficult road, the answers came to them. They discovered the knowledge they needed to impact positively on their people in their time and place.

This is the spiritual life in its essence. It is often the hardest most difficult path and it can certainly appear to be the loneliest, one filled with temptations. That said it is the one where the answers are usually found.

Lent is not just about giving up luxuries whether that be food and drink. or as I have seen with some friends and colleagues giving up their dependence on technology. I know several people who have come of social media and one collegue who has said he has given up “plastic” for Lent.

Lent is also a time of reflection a time to go inward and search out answers to the troubles we face as individuals, families, communities, nations and the world. It is a time for repentance and for re-building relationships with those we share this world with.

Lent shares this focus on repentance with many other religions. It shares a focus on atonement with Yom Kippur the Jewish New Year where prayer and fasting accompany acts of atonement. There are parallels with Ramadan in the Islamic tradition, a time for fasting and spiritual engagement as well charitable works and act acts of atonement. Both have a key focus on putting right relationships with God and the people around us. You see similar rituals in both Hinduism and Buddhism too, where fasting atonement, forgiveness and reconciliation are key components.

You can see clearly two key components in all the traditions that is at the core of Lent. One being fasting, denying oneself of life’s luxuries and therefore connecting with those less fortunate and the other healing relationships with one another and with whatever we believe is at the core of all life. It is a time to go inward, but with a sense of purpose. The purpose being to return outward with the intention of bringing healing to our shared world.

The Lenten journey is not an aimless one...

Lent is not an easy path. If only we could simply see what the problem is and change what needs to be changed. Life holds many distractions both internal and external. Lent recognises this, it is part of the mythos. In the Gospel accounts Jesus is tempted from his path by Satan. Satan means “the hinderer”. Temptation can be understood as anyone or anything that hinders our attempts to live the lives we are choosing. It hinders us from seeing who we truly are, children of life, children of love, children of God as it does the same with those we share this world with.

Temptation is that force that separates us from ourselves, from one another and from all life. A force that seems to be growing in power in our time and place.

We do seem to be living in ever more dividing times. Walls are being built, peoples are being separated and scapegoats are being named. I see this in the people I share my life with and I see it on a local and global scale too. Lent to me seems like an antidote to this.

We need Lent more than we have ever needed it. We need time to slow down and to reflect on our own lives and those who we share our lives with. We need to look inwardly and face our own troubles, to see what can be improved in our own lives. We also though need to look outwardly at the world in which we live and breathe and share our being. We need to see where the barriers are in our lives and those close at hand and we need to bring atonement both to our inner and outer lives. It is so needed. We need to take this time so that we can begin to bring some healing to our suffering world. As Jesus did and as the great sages throughout human history have done. We can follow their example, we do not need to be diverted by “the hinderers” both within and without.

Lent is an opportunity to prepare for a new beginning, a fresh start. The cold winter is coming to end, spring is coming, new birth and new life is coming. We need to prepare ourselves for this. We need to go inwards and reflect in this time to face our own demons, our distractions, the things that hinder us. We then need to turn outward to our world and begin to build bridges in our time and space. To me this is the message of Lent and of Easter that is to follow. It will not be pain free, there will be personal suffering, as there is in all life. Remember before we have Easter comes the horror of Good Friday. This is the example I see powerfully in the life of Jesus and the other great sages too, but particularly Jesus. His ministry was at its core about bringing love and reconciliation to humanity. This is the heart of his life and death and the love that lived on from his death, a love still alive today. If we look for it, we will find it. We can follow this great example we can bring this love alive.

We are responsible for our lives and our world. Are we going to be “the hinderers” to this love, the wall builders or are we going to be the ones who bring this love alive, the bridge builders.

It is up to us.

Lent is about attempting to practise love in life day by day, despite the distraction both within and without. It’s not about giving up sweets or chocolate or plastic or neon, it’s about giving of ourselves to life each and every day in whatever small ways that we can. It’s about building bridges of reconciliation rather than walls of separation, it’s about facing up to our demons, those within and those without and about attempting to build the commonwealth of love right here, right now.

It’s about preparing for the new love that can be born again in our hearts and lives…For this we are all responsible…

Seasonal Inspiration Part 3

This is the third blogspot sharing pieces I have come across and been inspired by this season...I hope they speak to you too...

The first two pieces are on "Hope"...both claim it is not the same as optimism...Hope is not some projection into the future but more "an orientation of the heart"...both inspired my Advent mantra "It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness"...The idea that we bring light, from the candles of our own souls into the dark places of our world rather than cursing all that is wrong...Do what you can, with all that you have in the place that you are, as often as you can...bring a little light to the world...

“Hope” by Vaclav Havel

Hope is a state of mind, not a state of the world
Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
Hope is not a prognostication—it’s an orientation of the spirit.
You can’t delegate that to anyone else.

Hope in this deep and powerful sense is not the same as joy
when things are going well,
or the willingness to invest in enterprises
that are obviously headed for early success,
but rather an ability to work for something to succeed.

Hope is definitely NOT the same as optimism.
It’s not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense,
regardless of how it turns out.

It is hope, above all, that gives us strength to live
and to continually try new things,
even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now.
In the face of this absurdity, life is too precious a thing
to permit its devaluation by living pointlessly, emptily,
without meaning, without love, and, finally, without hope.



"HOPE, NOT OPTIMISM" from Taking Pictures of God
by Bruce T. Marshall

A friend whose wife is undergoing treatment for a serious illness told me that their physician advised them to approach it with hope, not optimism. My friend found this guidance helpful, and it makes sense to me.

Optimism, as I understand it, is an attitude of expectation that a particular result will occur—that a person will recover from an illness, that we will achieve a specific goal, that the Publishers Clearing House will pick my number from among the billions submitted. The dictionary defines optimism as “an inclination to anticipate the best possible outcome.”

Hope is less specific. It’s an attitude that looks for possibility in whatever life deals us. Hope does not anticipate a particular outcome, but keeps before us the possibility that something useful will come from this.

We are told that an optimistic outlook is a good thing, but I’ve rarely found it so. Optimism often leads to disappointment. When the best possible outcome doesn’t occur, we are let down, may even feel betrayed. Optimism may then become its opposite—pessimism, an inclination to anticipate the worst possible outcome.

Hope is more resilient, more enduring, more helpful. In a serious illness, for example, there are often setbacks. In the face of these, optimism may wear down. But hope encourages us to move forward despite the setbacks.

As we pursue our goals in life, optimism may lead us to expectations that are unrealistic and ultimately hurtful. Hope advises us to look squarely at the realities that confront us while remaining aware of the possibilities.

Erich Fromm observed, “To hope means to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born, and yet not become desperate if there is no birth in our lifetime. Those whose hope is weak settle for comfort or for violence, those whose hope is strong see and cherish signs of new life and are ready every moment to help the birth of that which is ready to be born.”

It is helpful guidance, I think, whether we are faced with a serious illness, a personal dilemma, or a society that seems determined to destroy itself—not optimism that a particular result will occur, but hope to “see and cherish signs of new life” wherever these may occur.

I love the next two pieces as they speak of the transformative "magic" that the season can inspire in our lives...It is easy to miss this as we get lost in what the stories are trying to teach us. We argue about events and impossibility of them instead of losing ourselves in the story in the universal mythos...They teach a universal truth that speak to us...past, present and future...What does humanity need "Glad tidings of comfort and joy" or "Glad tidings of reason and fact"?


“In this season of growing darkness” by Rick Kelley

In this season of growing darkness, as days shorten, as cold and encircling gloom deepen, let us turn to the inward light of the human community to be warmed by the world of legend and fancy.

Let us turn to the stories of miraculous births that remind us of the wonder and beauty of another human life.

Let us turn to the fanciful figures of jolly elves dressed in red who remind us of the generosity and loving care nestled within the human heart.

Let us, most of all, turn to the tales of brave and courageous men and women who stood up for what they believed, and who tell us once again of the indomitable spirit residing within humanity.

In so doing,

May we, too, become bearers of light amidst surrounding darkness...

May we reach out to others with generosity and loving care, showing them the ‘larger’ side of ourselves...

May we reveal to those closest to us some of the wonder and beauty of our existence...

And may we find within ourselves, together, the courage and determination to be with that which we believe, the freedom to become which we would become.


“And Stars Twinkle in the night air” by Richard S Gilbert

And the stars, twinkling in the night air,

Become beacons leading to a babe in a manger, or a cave,

Or other humble place, in east or west,

A child in whom the human race was born anew.

And simple shepherds, so close to the earth,

Become heroes in a great miracle play,

Finding the new born babe before the great kings of the East.

And angels, those celestial non-creatures, made heavenly music,

To stir the heart for centuries.

(Oh we know it didn’t happen that way

But one must admit, it is very poetic.)

Only a myth, you say?

Of course only a myth,

The stuff of which dreams are made.

The fabrications of which joys are made.


Only a myth.

Yet those myths link us with those we never knew,

And will link us with those we will never know.

They will speak a poetry irresistible.

For we are sustained not by bread alone,

Or by reason,

Or by fact,

Or by the daily hum drum,

So much as we are by the poetry of human imagination,

Which paints pictures where before there were only colours,

Which forms songs where before there were only sounds,

Which writes stories where before there were only words.



Someone needs to be our story teller,

For human life is more than a bleak passage

Between the portals of life and death.

It is a story, a myth

It is the myth of Jesus, or the Buddha or Confucius.

Heroes of the race.

Or is it the story of a life,

Yours or mine, a story with a beginning and ending

And all that goes between of despair and hope.


The following is a meditation based on the "Mythos" "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer"...I recently told a version of it during worship and then when I finished I asked the congregation to sing. Everyone joined in and what was so beautiful is that they all knew it by heart...When we learn something by heart it becomes deeply engrained within is us...Thus revealing something of the magic of this this season...


Meditation on Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer by Edward Harris

What can we say about Rudolph?

He was excluded by other reindeer. They did not let him play with them. We may feel confident that they made fun of him and his red nose.

It is possible that they hurt poor Rudolph. He was on the outside. The other reindeer had a special relationship with Santa Claus. They were the elite: Dancer, Dasher, Prancer, Comet, Blitzen, fine names, sturdy names, bespeaking solidarity, stability, education, training, ability, access to the very best. These reindeer were strong and fast.

Rudolph was smaller and his only distinctive feature was a shiny red nose. It seemed to have a glow about it. It made the young Rudolph a figure of fun. "See Rudolph the Red-nosed. Ha! Ha! I'd rather be dead than red in the nose,” they'd say.

Still he may have been content to be red-nosed by himself. He probably muttered more than once, "I don't care. Let them have all of the fun. I can have fun by myself."

Did Rudolph wish to be included? We don't know? Probably he did, for it is the deepest wish of all creatures to belong and be accepted.

So what happened?

On a foggy Christmas Eve, Santa realized Rudolph could make the difference in guiding the sleigh. Rudolph could lead them through. Rudolph's special trait was his ugly, shiny, red nose. It was this nose, this trait that was needed.

So Santa goes to little Rudolph and asks him to guide the sleigh. Actually to lead it. He would be in front of the other reindeer. Because their mission of getting Christmas to the boys and girls of the world was so important, it became necessary to rethink past practices.

When Rudolph was asked, what did he say? We don't know; it's not recorded. We know he did not say: "I can't. I'm too little." He didn't say, "Me? The others always make fun of me." He didn't say, "Now you ask me, I've got something else to do. It isn't fair."

He didn't say spitefully, "Get somebody else. Let Dancer do it." He didn't say, "I hope you crash, you and all the others."

So we have a classic story of the insiders excluding the newcomer and making fun of his special traits. It happens all of the time in schools, play grounds, classes, society.

We say: "They just don't have it. And if they do, well we got here first and don't have to let them in our group, our company, our church, our club, our political party, our games."

He just did it. He led the sleigh through. He did the job. It was a hard job but he did it. Then all the reindeer loved him.

What does the little story, the bit of doggerel mean? What is its moral?

Some possible meanings: Anybody can serve; we need everyone to be part of the team; even the ugliest (or what we label ugly) and smallest has a special contribution to make; the mission is more important than personalities.

There are perhaps others. (Can you think of some?) Remember them when you hear the song.

For me Christmas and the way we celebrate it is the perfect universal festival. It speaks to all people, past, present and future. It has developed from a variety of traditions, religious and secular. There are many who would love to see the back of it, from both religious and secular perspectives. There always has been. These voices will never win, as the spirit of Christmas will always win...One light will always defeat the darkness...The following two pieces express these sentiments...

“Christmas” by Charles Stephen

Oliver Cromwell once ordered the heathen celebration of Christmas ended; the new England Puritans objected to the celebration as well and in 1659 passed a law setting a fine on anyone “found observing any such day as Christmas...whether by forbearing labour, feasting, or any other way...”

But Christmas survives all efforts to subdue it. Cromwell and the New England puritans were right of course, about the “heathen,” pre-Christian origins of Christmas. But they were wrong in trying to disavow it because of those origins. Its beginnings make it more universal, and those of us who have a touch of the heathen upon us can find good meanings in the season.

Scrooge, after all, was converted and promised, “I will honour Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year.” So can we, whatever our theological beliefs, for Christmas is so much more than theology, so much more than the Bethlehem legends.

It is as ancient as the awareness of the winter solstice; and as contemporary as the inner need each of us has to hope and dedicate ourselves to peace upon the earth and within the hearts of men and women everywhere. It is as deeply rooted as human loving and sharing and giving, and it is as new as the birth of our children and the birth of wonder and birth of new ideas and new love.

“Christmas” by E. Burdette Backus

Christmas is the time when the idealism of the human heart comes to the fore. It is the reassuring revelation of those qualities in human nature in which our chief hope lies. There is much, oh so much, that is wrong with the world, that mocks the sound of the Christmas bells; but as long as our hearts respond to the song of “peace on earth, goodwill to all,” as long as we have the grace to act on the injunction that it “is more blessed to give than to receive,” as long as we sincerely feel that the great ends of life are served in causes that transcend their petty personal interests, there is hope that we shall redeem ourselves from our woe

So what is it that you do?

“What does a minister do?” By Bruce T Marshall

Last Sunday the kindergarten class stopped by my office for conversation. The question came up, “What does a minister do?”

That’s a tough one. I have a hard time explaining to my wife what I do. What do I say to five year olds?

“Makes speeches,” one child volunteered helpfully. We all quickly agreed on that. Yes I make speeches.

“Talks to people.” That’s true, all the talking I do is not in the form of speeches. I expect many of these five year olds have witnessed the scene in which somebody wants to go home but the minister is still “talking to people.”

“Solves problems.” This also was suggested by a participant. I was about to equivocate and say, “Well, lots of times I may try to solve problems, but the problems are difficult, and one person can’t do it all, and I can’t think of many problems that I actually have solved alone, but I try to do my part.” I thought about saying that but decided it would just confuse things. I swallowed hard and said, “Yes, I solve problems.”

“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.”

Some questions are just impossible to answer...

I was out with a friend recently. He was getting money from the hole in the wall and I was just kind of lingering on the street. Suddenly a friendly, attractive, young woman approached me saying “I bet I can guess your name”. Now please don't get too excited she wasn’t chatting me up, she was actually working for “Friends of the Earth” and was attempting to get me to give money to the organisation. 

She persisted and kept on saying “I bet I can guess your name, in a friendly slightly flirtatious way.” I just smiled and answered “Go on then” and she said “Dave, Steve, Andy, Mike” I shook my head and said “My middle name is David”. She carried on, but didn’t manage to guess. She then asked if I could guess her name, which I failed to do. My friend then arrived and she asked if he was my brother? To which I replied, “don’t insult him, he’s far too good looking to be related to me.” 

Frustrated she changed her tack and the next thing she asked was "so what do you do?" Now if I'd been really sharp, no doubt I would have responded "Well I mind my own business," but I'm not that sharp and besides she never gave me the time. Instead she quickly said, “are you unemployed.” To which I replied, “Of course not, why would you think that?” She said, "well most people walking round here at this time of day are”. I suspect that this is the answer that most folk give in order to stop her pestering them and interestingly I had just been to the job centre with my friend, who is on the job hunt. 

She continued attempting to guess what I do. She looked me up and down and said “I bet you work in construction” I just shook my head, she continued “are you a chef?” “Do you work in sales?” I bet you’re a civil servant?” This went on for quite some time and I just kept on shaking my head and saying, "you will never guess."

She didn’t.

In the end in order to put her out of her misery I told her what I do (Well really what I am). I said “I am a minister” at which point she stopped and her jaw dropped, again she looked me up and down and then looked at my friend who said, "yes he is" as he began to snigger. The young woman looked like she had fallen into a state somewhere between shock and terror. She stared for a few moments, which seemed like an eternity and then began to mumble “Well then you know what Friends of the Earth are all about then”, to which I replied “Yes I know all about Friends of the Earth”, she then said a few barely coherent things back at me, as all her confidence and brashness had now left her, I just smiled and chuckled. There then followed a short silence, that seemed to last for an eternity and then she turned and kind of lept in the air and pounced on an unsuspecting young man passing in the street and began her patter again “I bet I can guess your name” I turned to my friend and we burst out laughing and off we went for a coffee and a chat.

Now I don’t generally get a kick out of sucking the wind out of the sails of young women, but this encounter did amuse me.

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. That said they had thought that at first I meant that I was a minister in the government and not a minister of religion. Now I wonder if that’s what the young woman thought...maybe, maybe not.

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 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”, "the work's a real blessing"

Oh if only people would ask me simple question like "What is the Meaning of Life?", or "If there is a God why is there so much suffering?", or "What happens when we die?" These seem far easier to answer than "So what exactly is a minister and what does a minister do?"

I love the responses that the children given in words by Bruce T Marshall above. I also 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 it means to minister. Now of course etymologically speaking to minister is to serve; and I believe that to serve is to love in the truest meaning of the word. Now the love I am talking of here is agape love, self giving love, love without prejudice. Which I believe is perfectly exemplified in this verse 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 from 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 primary purpose of a truly religious community. This I believe is the spirit that must run through all that I do and the communities I serve do. Now of course I fall short of this as does the community of people I serve, but we do aspire, we aim at this and accept that it is ok to fall short.

No one can get everything right. I need to remember that. I believe that every human needs to remember that.

I recently came across a wonderful meditation “The Church Where Everything Goes Wrong." by Elea Kemler. She is writing about her experiences of being a minister in a new congregation and all the problems and difficulties that she has to endure in attempting to keep her fellowship of love afloat. At the end of a piece filled with frustration at everything that goes wrong she writes:

“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.”

I too want to believe that kindness and compassion are what matter the most; I do believe that they are the essence of love and service; I do believe that they are the root of true religion.

The Unitarian tradition that I belong to has emphasised not only the priesthood, but also the prophet hood of all believers. I am not the only one who ministers in the congregations I serve. I believe that everyone in the communities ministers to one another in one degree or another; the diverse communities of individuals minister not only to one another, but also to the 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 and to carry that out into their world.

I keep on wondering about that conversation with the young woman. It matters to me what people think. I care what people think, not only of me, but of what I do. It bothers me that a person can look with fear at me, because of what I do. Do not get me wrong, I do not take it personally. Nor am I ruled by what people think of me, but I do care. To no longer care about things sounds hellish to me.

The fear I would guess stems from the way that religion is viewed in this country. This is of course the fault, to some degree, of religion itself which at times does not come across as loving and accepting of all, quite the opposite, it can be divisive and against some people. That said I do not believe that this is the essence, the true essence, of religion.

Religion for me, or at least the free religion that I aspire to 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 the world in which we live and have our being.

Seasonal Inspiration: Part 1

Over the last few weeks I’ve come across several pieces that have inspired me greatly. I have shared them in worship during this Advent Season. I thought I’d share some of them with you in this the first of two blogs...

The following was sent to me by a friend. I can't read it without it bringing a tear to my eye. I couldn't even listen to it being read out in worship without having the same effect...

“For the Man Who Hated Christmas” by Nancy Gavin

It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years or so.
 

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas--oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it--overspending... the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma---the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.
 

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
 

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears.
 

It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat.
 

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.” Mike loved kids - all kids - and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That’s when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition--one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.
 

The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
 

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn’t end there.

You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more.
 

Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing to take down the envelope.
 

Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit will always be with us.

The following inspired me to explore the two spirits that are present at Christmas as they are throughout the year. It is also inspired me to look at "Scrooge" as the Christmas archetype. He is the perfect embodiment of both spirits and I believe he speaks to all aspects of our shared humanity

“Two spirits at Christmas” by Max D Gaebler

There are really two spirits of Christmas, each very different from the other, yet both deeply ingrained in our celebrations of the season. and I suspect most of us have more of both within us than we ordinarily recognise.

The first, of course, is the one we usually talk about, the spirit of good will and peace. It is this spirit that bids us renew our hopes amid the gathering darkness, that kindles our generosity and our concerns, that attunes our ears to the ever-renewed angelic chorus.

But the second, equally inseparable from the observations of this season, is the spirit of Scrooge’s “Bah! Humbug!” We all know that hatred and distrust will not disappear from human relationships just because we say it ought to be so. We all know that peace on earth is lot more complicated than it sounds in the Christmas hymns. We all know that if the world and the lamb and the leopard and the kid, the calf and the young lion all got along with one another as famously as Isaiah prophesied that they would, then some of these animals would die of starvation.

What is comes down to is that we give voice at Christmas to extravagant hopes that are beyond the range of any possible fulfilment. They are, as we say in our more sober moments, unrealistic.

But the real question is whether this is so bad. Perhaps the part of wisdom is to accept this reminder of the gap between the real and the ideal for what it is, a spur not only to our hopes but to our imagination and energies. It would be foolish to ignore the element of wishful thinking in our Christmas hopes. But how unspeakably more foolish it would be if we were to accept present reality as the last word and to stop dreaming altogether.

Our hopes are bound, of course, to be disappointed, at least in part. So long as time endures we shall remain creatures in the making, somewhere this side of perfection. Yet there is always hope for moving beyond the tragic failures of the past – if not all the way, at least a few steps farther. Our hopes are forever bound to fall to ashes; yet out of the ashes there can always emerge new hope – again and again and yet again.

I love the following story which was sent to me by my friend and colleague Rev Gillian Peel. It got me thinking of my favourite Carol "In the bleak mid winter" and the line "what shall I give him, give my heart". It's not really about the gifts we give but the spirit in which we give. when we give from our hearts we receive all that our hearts could ever desire. The gift truly is in the giving

"Long Walk Part of Gift" by DAVID S. BLANCHARD

The best story I ever heard about gift-giving has nothing to do with Christmas, and everything to do with Christmas. It's about an African boy who wanted to give a gift to his teacher, who was going home to England. The child had no money and his options were few. The day before the teacher was to leave, the child brought her a huge seashell. The teacher asked the boy where he could have found such a shell. He told her there was only one spot where such extraordinary shells could be found, and when he named the place, a certain bay many miles away, the teacher was speechless.

"Why ... why, it’s gorgeous ... wonderful, but you shouldn't have gone all that way to get a gift for me." His eyes brightening, the boy answered, "Long walk part of gift."

"Long walk part of gift." Most of the meaningful gifts we give to each other require some version of that "long walk." The long walk we sign on for with children, who need our patience, our wisdom, our honesty, and our trust more than we might first have imagined when their lives began. The long walk we share with our spouses, which takes us through uncharted, unexpected territories of sickness and health, richer and poorer, better and worse. The long walk we take with our friends when they are grieving the loss of someone they love, when they are ill, when they are discouraged. The long walk of feeling a sense of unity with those whom prosperity has left behind. The long walk of reconciliation with all that separates us from a deep sense of life’s great purpose and meaning. "Long walk part of gift."

When Christmas has been tidied up and packed away for another year, the gifts acknowledged, many already forgotten, the New Year stretches in front of us. What will get us through those months, with all that they may hold, will not be the things in the boxes. We must look to the hands of those who bought and wrapped and carried those gifts. With their gifts, they are telling us something too wonderful, perhaps too embarrassing, for words. They are telling us that, for us, they will take the long walk.
So when you open the box and find the socks, the bath salts, the fruitcake, the pot holder, or the seashell from a distant ocean, remember that it's not just "the thought" that counts. Remember too,
"long walk part of gift."

This follows a similar theme and makes the point that the value in the gift is in the love contained within it. I actually remember John preaching on this several years ago when he was my minister. “Poinsettia” by Rev John Midgley 

In recent years a plant, the poinsettia, has become a new symbol of Advent, because of its joyous red colour and the story associated with it.

It originates from Mexico where the associated legend is a miracle story, told to the children as part of the Festival of the Holy Journey, a re-enactment of the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem. It comes to its climax when the couple arrive in Bethlehem and find no room at the inn. For the Christmas Eve service the people of the towns and villages attend their church and bring gifts for the Christ child, as the three Wise Men did.

The story tells of Pepita, a poor Mexican girl who wanted to attend but had no gift to bring. As she walked slowly to the chapel with her cousin Pedro, her heart was filled with sadness rather than joy. “I am sure, Pepita, that even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes,’ said Pedro to her, consolingly. Not knowing what else to do, Pepita knelt by the roadside and gathered a handful of common weeds, fashioning them into a small bouquet. Looking at the scraggy bunch, she felt more saddened and embarrassed than ever by the humbleness of her offering. She fought back a tear as she entered the small village chapel. All this was made worse by the jeering remarks of those who had bought much grander gifts.

As she approached the alter, she remembered Pedro’s kind words: “Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes.” She felt her spirit life as she knelt to lay the bouquet at the foot of the nativity scene.

Suddenly the leaves of the bouquet of weeds changed. They were transformed into blooms of brilliant red, and all who saw them were certain that they had witnessed a Christmas miracle, right before their eyes. From that day on, the bright red flowers were known as Flores de Noche Buena, Flowers of the Holy Night, for they bloomed each year during the Christmas season.

“Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable”

Again this continues the same theme...how does Santa do it? Well because he fuelled by love...the gift is in the giving and the caring...We can be in top physical shape but that is of no use to us if we aren't in tip top spiritual shape...

“How does Santa do it” by Bruce T Marshall 

I came across a study conducted by psychologists from Harvard and Yale that may shed light on the age-old question. How does Santa Claus do it? How does he keep fit year after year despite a break-neck schedule?

In this study, two groups were told that the plant was theirs to take care of and that its fate would depend on their efforts. They also were told that they were competent men and women who should be making decisions for themselves.

People in the other group were told that their plants would be looked after by the nursing home staff just as the staff took care of them because, after all, they were in the home to be cared for.

Within a few weeks the researchers found a noticeable difference between the two groups. Those who cared for their own plant showed an increase in emotional and physical well-being and a visible increase in activity levels. Eighteen months later, the mortality rate of this group was only half that of the other.

A theme of the holiday season is giving. Giving of course, can become obligation and a cause of considerable stress, but it also enhances our lives as it connects us with others. We are reminded of those who are important to us and who depend on us. Our gifts are in thanks for those who keep us involved in life.

Santa Claus, after all, is overweight, smokes a pipe, and lives on a diet of mince pies and milk (whole milk at that). How does he do it?

It’s probably all that giving and caring – and those people depending on him – that keeps him such a healthy and happy old elf.