Universalism: How these three have inspired me

I’m going to begin with something I first heard when I was training for the ministry. It was written as the author was dying and this and much of his work have inspired my ministry. It is titled “The Cathedral of the World: A twenty-first-century theology, based on the concept of one light and many windows” by Forrest Church

Imagine awakening one morning from a deep and dreamless sleep to find yourself in the nave of a vast cathedral. Like a child newborn, untutored save to moisture, nurture, rhythm, and the profound comforts at the heart of darkness, you open your eyes onto a world unseen, indeed unimaginable, before. It is a world of light and dancing shadow, stone and glass, life and death. This second birth, at once miraculous and natural, is in some ways not unlike the first. A new awakening, it consecrates your life with sacraments of pain you do not understand and promised joy you will never fully call your own.

Such awakenings may happen only once in a lifetime or many times. But when they do, what before you took for granted is presented as a gift: difficult, yet precious and good. Not that you know what to do with your gift, or even what it really means, only how much it matters. Awakening to the call stirring deep within you, the call of life itself—the call of God—you begin your pilgrimage.

Before you do, look about you. Contemplate the mystery and contemplate with awe. This cathedral is as ancient as humankind, its cornerstone the first altar, marked with the tincture of blood and blessed by tears. Search for a lifetime—which is all you are surely given—and you shall never know its limits, visit all its transepts, worship at its myriad shrines, nor span its celestial ceiling with your gaze. The builders have worked from time immemorial, destroying and creating, confounding and perfecting, tearing down and raising up arches in this cathedral, buttresses and chapels, organs, theaters and chancels, gargoyles, idols and icons. Not a moment passes without work being begun that shall not be finished in the lifetime of the architects who planned it, the patrons who paid for it, the builders who construct it, or the expectant worshipers. Throughout human history, one generation after another has labored lovingly, sometimes fearfully, crafting memorials and consecrating shrines. Untold numbers of these today collect dust in long undisturbed chambers; others (cast centuries or eons ago from their once respected places) lie shattered in shards or ground into dust on the cathedral floor. Not a moment passes without the dreams of long-dead dreamers being outstripped, crushed, or abandoned, giving way to new visions, each immortal in reach, ephemeral in grasp.

Welcome to the Cathedral of the World.

Above all else, contemplate the windows. In the Cathedral of the World there are windows beyond number, some long forgotten, covered with many patinas of dust, others revered by millions, the most sacred of shrines. Each in its own way is beautiful. Some are abstract, others representational; some dark and meditative, others bright and dazzling. Each tells a story about the creation of the world, the meaning of history, the purpose of life, the nature of humankind, the mystery of death. The windows of the cathedral are where the light shines through.

As with all extended meta­phors for meaning, this one is imperfect. The Light of God (or Truth or Being Itself, call it what you will) shines not only upon us, but out from within us as well. Together with the windows, we are part of the Cathedral, not apart from it. Together we comprise an interdependent web of being. The Cathedral is constructed out of star stuff, and so are we. We are that part (that known part) of the creation that contemplates itself, part of the poem that we ponder. Because the Cathedral is so vast, our life so short and our vision so dim, we are able to contemplate only a tiny part of the cathedral, explore a few apses, reflect upon the play of light and darkness through a few of its myriad windows. Yet, since the whole (holographically or organically) is contained in each of the parts, as we ponder and act on the insight from our ruminations, we may discover insights that will invest our days with meaning and our lives with purpose.

A twenty-first-century theology based on the concept of one Light and many windows offers to its adherents both breadth and focus. Honoring many different religious approaches, it only excludes the truth-claims of absolutists. That is because fundamentalists claim that the Light shines through their window only. Some go so far as to beseech their followers to throw stones through other people’s windows.

Skeptics draw the opposite conclusion. Seeing the bewildering variety of windows and observing the folly of the worshipers, they conclude that there is no Light. But the windows are not the Light. They are where the Light shines through.

We shall never see the Light directly, only as refracted through the windows of the Cathedral. Prompting humility, life’s mystery lies hidden, beyond knowledge’s most ample ken. The Light (God, Truth) is veiled. Yet, that we can encompass with our minds the universe that encompasses us is a cause for great wonder. I humbly stand in the Cathedral of the World trembling with awe.

Some people have trouble believing in a God who looks into any eyes but theirs. Others have trouble believing in a God they cannot see. But that none of us can look directly into God’s eyes certainly doesn’t mean God isn’t there, mysterious, unknowable, gazing into ours, gazing through the windows of the Cathedral of the World.

Get’s me every time.

I been given the honour and great responsibility to lecture at Unitarian Academy Prague Educational retreat from 14th until 18th October and lead worship at the International Unitarian Church on the Sunday. I was invited to attend in 2020 but obviously could not physically attend as we were in lockdown. So, I delivered the lectures online, but didn’t get to visit Prague

I have been asked to speak on several subject. One being to pick three Unitarian personalities who have inspired me and describe what I believe their significant contributions are. It took me a while, but I have come up with three. One is Joseph Priestley, another Dilworth Lupton and the third Forrest Church. Now those who know me well will not be surprised to hear me speak of Priestley and Forrest Church, but I would be surprised if any listening to this will have heard of Rev Dilworth Lupton.

I will begin with Joseph Priestley, perhaps the most significant figure in the development of the Unitarian tradition. I have a personal affection and connection to Priestley. We come from the same place, Birstall in West Yorkshire. We went to the same school Batley Grammar School. There is a huge statue of Priestly in Birstall market Place, he dominates it. Growing up it was Priestley the scientist that we heard about, not the radical minister. I have no recollection of this ever being mentioned. As we used to say, half joking “he was the man who invented oxygen”. Yes, I know that is silly, he invented carbonated water and isolated and understood what oxygen was. Discoveries he made during his spare time whilst minister at Mill Hill Chapel in Leeds.

Priestley was the classic Enlightenment polymath. He published almost two hundred works on natural philosophy, theology, metaphysics, political philosophy, politics, education, history and linguistics. Despite his scientific discoveries he viewed himself primarily as a minister, theologian and teacher. Priestely was central to the development and promotion of Unitarian theology in the UK and to a degree the USA too. He had to flee there from England. It is his view of human nature and sin that is key for me. From a young age he had serious theological doubts about his Calvinist upbringing particularly around the concept of the “Original Sin” of Adam and new life and salvation through Jesus. Priestley proposed a new translation of scripture he believed that human attainment of truth was gradual and fluid, that knowledge ought never be allowed to stagnate. At the heart of his theological understanding was that human beings were capable of reaching the perfect understanding attained by Christ. This is because Jesus was wholly human. That although we didn’t achieve this, it is within our capacity. Due to this understanding reason led him to rejecting both the Trinity and Substitutional Atonement.

It is this idea of human capacity that is key for me. I have always been concerned with the struggle so many experience and the view that at the heart of them there is something wrong, I have suffered with this for large parts of my life. Priestley reasoned that we have the capacity to change and that we are not fallen in nature.

I believe that there is that Divine light within each of us and that it is our task to bring this to life and to inspire others to do the same. This is a salvation if you like. Not so much to the next life, but this life. In many ways this is central to my view of ministry., to encourage folk to be all that they are capable of being, not merely for themselves, but for the good of all.

A few years ago, a friend in Alcoholics Anonymous sent me a sermon preached on November 26, 1939 by Rev Dilworth Lupton at the First Unitarian Church, Cleveland, Ohio. Rev Joe Cherry, who spent a short time in Manchester when we were both training for the ministry, was minister there for several years. He told me that Alcoholics Anonymous began there. Now this is not actually true, although the locals do claim it. The history is a little more complex than that. The sermon was made into an early AA pamphlet in the area and was published along with others in the local newspapers. Dilworth Lupton played a major role in AA’s early acceptance and incredible expansion in the area. Lupton had originally been reluctant to become involved as there had been a connection to the Oxford Groups of the day, but the alcoholics removed themselves and once this happened he was on board, certainly in Cleveland.

Dilworth Lupton noted four principle aspects of the fellowship and their members. the first being spiritual dependence on something beyond their mere human will. Now what impressed Lupton was this was not prescribed to them, but for each individual to make sense of themselves. The second being “Universality”, that the groups were open to anyone regardless of background or of belief or lack of. The third being “Mutual Aid” That they truly were a fellowship of people who gave of themselves to help one another and those who still struggled. Finally, the principle of transformation” That something was happening in the lives of these people that was not only dispelling their alcoholic obsession, but transforming their lives. They were saved, found salvation, in this life, not the next.

Towards the end of the sermon Rev Lupton offered the following advice to Alcoholics Anonymous:

“One final word to the members of Alcoholics Anonymous. Go back to your synagogues and churches; they need you and you need them. Preserve your principle of Universality, your faith that all religion is one. Never allow yourselves to be absorbed by any single church or sect. Keep your movement what you call it now, a “layman’s outfit.” Avoid over-organization for religious organizations always tend to follow the letter rather than the spirit, finally crushing the spirit. Remember that early Christianity was promoted not by highly involved organization, but by the contagion of souls fired with enthusiasm for their cause. And keep your sense of humor! So far you do not seem afflicted with the curse of over-seriousness.”

It seems that they continued to follow his advice, for they have remained this way.

I love the way that Dilworth Lupton highlights the openness and modern day Universalism at the heart of the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous. Something I found myself. I began my own spiritual journey nearly a quarter of a century ago there. This led me on a journey of exploration that eventually led me to Unitarianism and then ministry. Without realising it at the time that early promotion of AA by Rev Lupton played a role in so much good.

Whilst I was training for the Unitarian ministry I heard Forrest Church’s “Cathedral of the World”. It is the introduction to his book, by the same title, written as he was dying from esophageal cancer. This and another he wrote at the same time “Love and Death: My Journey Through the Valley of the Shadow” were central to my formation into Unitarian ministry. It was coming to terms with a heartbreaking grief that drew me into ministry, Grief and the love we leave behind has been central to my faith and service these past 16 years. It is also key to my concept of salvation in this life, that all life is sacred, that everything we do and everything we do not do really matters. As Forrest Church wrote himself:

“What I'm talking about here, by the way, is salvation. The latin root, salve, means 'health.' The Teutonic cognates 'health' and 'holy' share the same root. Being agnostic about the afterlife, I look for salvation here - not to be saved from life, but to be saved by life, in life, for life…”

And later on “About life after death, no-one knows. But about this we surely know: there is love after death... Centuries from now, the last tracings of our being will yet express themselves in little works of love that follow bead by bead in a luminous catena extending from our dear ones out into their world and then on into the next, strung by our own loving hands.”

It was though his vision of a 21st Century Universalism, that caught my imagination.

Forrest asks us to imagine the whole of humanity standing under the ceiling of the cathedral of the world. Around this cathedral are millions of stained glass windows. There is a light outside of the cathedral shining through all of the windows; this is the light of truth, the light of God. No one inside is able to stare at the light directly, we all see it passing through a stained glass window. Each of the windows distorts the light in some way; they only allow some of the light to pass through. Sometimes the light is refracted, by the tinted windows and occasionally it is blocked by the opaque aspects of each window. In some places the light is almost completely obscured. Just as importantly though he also says that the light shines out from us, this links me right back to Priestley and what I understand as finding that of the Divine within each of us. That we do not need to go out to connect to Divinity, that we are not awaiting salvation. His Universalism also links me back to Rev Lupton’s understanding at what was at the heart of the spirituality of Alcoholics Anonymous.

The Cathedral of the world metaphor is an attempt to describe a 21st century Universalist theology, one that speaks powerfully to me. There is one light but there are many windows through which we can get a glimpse of the light. Each window is unique in its own way; each window is different; but none gives us a perfect image of the light. Each window is representing different religions, different ideologies, different philosophies, different dogmas, different views about life, the universe, everything. The key is to understand that each window has been fashioned by human hands, often with great skill, imagination, beauty, intelligence and artfulness that said through no one window is the light seen perfectly.

Now the danger is that from where we view our particular perspective on the light we can begin to believe that what we see is the absolute truth and that the light only shines through our window. That only our window offers the true representation of the light. That what others see through their window is false, even stupid and irrational. Forrest Church’s Universalism though is saying something very different. He is saying that each window conveys part of the truth and that no one window has a monopoly on the truth. He is echoing the words of the great twentieth century liberal theologian Paul Tillich who said “That which reveals also hides”.

I love Forrest vision of a 21st Century Universalist theology.

The light of Universalism continues to speak powerfully to me. I remember once describing myself as a Universalist to a friend, they asked me “What kind of Universalist I was?” I paused and thought for a moment and then I answered “I am a Universalist, Universalist”. I remembered at the time they looked at me as if I were a little mad, this is not the first time this has happened. So, I explained that I was a Universalist in the old sense. I do not believe in hell and damnation. That the God of my limited understanding would never condemn anyone to an eternity in Hell; I do not believe that some are saved and others are unsaved. I believe that God has an intimate love for all, that if there is a hell it is a state of being that can be experienced within life. I talked about the "Prodigal Son" parable, and I also spoke of my belief that this love is always there waiting for us. I also said that I was a universalist in a more modern understanding too in that I see truth in so many other traditions. That none can reveal the whole truth, that they are windows that let some of the light through. I also talked of a belief in the interconnectedness of all life and that all that happens and does not happen matters. That divinity is present within everything, a kind of Universal Love I suppose. So, I am a Universalist in three senses at least. I am actually a Universalist, Universalist, Universalist, I believe in a Hope that helps.

I can see how my present faith has been shaped in different and complimentary ways by the three figures Joseph Priestley, Dilworth Lupton and Forrest Church. They have helped form my spiritual understanding. They were also highly influential in their own right both within the Unitarian tradition, but also beyond. I hope they speak to you as they have spoken to me.

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

There must be another way — a way to unself just enough to remember each other

It is said that soon after his enlightenment that the Buddha passed a man on the road who was struck by the Buddha's extraordinary radiance and peaceful presence. The man stopped and asked, "My friend, what are you? Are you a celestial being or a god?"

"No," said the Buddha.

"Well, then, are you some kind of magician or wizard?"

Again the Buddha answered, "No."

"Are you a man?" "No."

"Well, my friend, then what are you?"

The Buddha replied, "I am awake"

The Buddha was awake, he was fully conscious to all that is and all that will ever be. He was fully integrated, he did not see himself as separate, well he did not see himself at all.

Now this is not a claim I would or could make about myself. I can be self conscious at times, aware of my short comings and frustrations. I more liberate from this than when I was younger. Some days I feel free and others I can get caught up in my shortcomings.

As a child I was very self conscious about the way I moved. This became excruciating as a teenager. I was born some of the nerve endings at the base of my spine underdeveloped. It was something akin to a less severe form of spina bifida. As a child I had to frequently go for physiotherapy and there was a period when I was not allowed to engage in any sport. I hated the feeling it engendered in me as I looked at the other kids running around in the playground, knowing I wasn’t allowed to join in.

It was a few years later when the pain really hit me though, in my mid to later teens when I was painfully aware of the way I walked. I waddled when I moved, I still do now. I remember walking down the street of the town I grew up in and whenever I saw someone walking towards me, especially teenage girls, I would stand up straight and attempt to push my feet inwards in the vain hope that they wouldn’t think that there was something wrong with me. I must have looked a right sight.

I was just so terribly self-consciousness, locked in on what I believed was wrong with me. As I look back now’ I’m not wholly convinced that the problem was my perceived physical imperfections. I suspect that if I’d been born without this physical difficulty the problem would have manifested in other areas of my life. The problem was the self-consciousness, I was locked in myself and therefore not fully conscious, I was separate and felt alone.

One thing I’ve learnt over the years is that I am not alone in this. So many suffer from self-consciousness, feel lost, lonely and cut off because they are locked in what they believe is wrong with them. Sometimes it is harder to see what is right, than what is wrong. This is a deeply lonely, isolated, way to be.

Socrates said that “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Now while not wishing to argue with the great philosopher I do wonder if the “over examined life” can prove just as worthless. It is so easy to get lost in oneself, wrapped up in our own underwear to such an extent that we do not live at all. We can become so self-conscious that we fail to become conscious of all that is and all that as ever been. It is so easy to become wrapped up in our own perceived needs that we fail to live in the world with others and then complain about feeling lonely. Yes it is important to examine ourselves, to understand who we are and what makes us tick, but that should not be an end in itself, a destination. It is a staging post in the spiritual adventure, but not an end in itself.

I have had several conversations with people recently who have been struggling with severe self-consciously, manifesting as pride. Bruce Lee observed "the core of pride is self-rejection" and Agnes Martin knew when she cautioned that pride destroys freedom, joy and creativity. The ancient Greeks had a word for the ultimate self-consciousness “hubris”; the most destructive form of pride; a pride that puts yourself at the centre of the universe. This strange and terrible kind of total self-consciousness invariably ends in self-annihilation. Think of Narcissus who was so locked into his own reflection that he drowned. The great writers of tradgedy have always understood this, from Sophocles to Shakespeare. We witness it in the monsters of history and some world leaders of our age.

One antidote to such destructiveness is to live creatively. Madeleine L’Engle wrote on this:

“Creativity is an act of discovering. The very small child, the baby, is still unself-conscious enough to take joy in discovering himself: he discovers his fingers; he gives them his complete, unself-conscious concentration.”

Continuing…

“The kind of unself-consciousness I’m thinking about becomes clearer to me when I turn to a different discipline: for instance, that of playing a Bach fugue at the piano, precisely because I will never be a good enough pianist to play a Bach fugue as it should be played. But when I am actually sitting at the piano, all there is for me is the music. I am wholly in it, unless I fumble so badly that I perforce become self-conscious. Mostly, no matter how inadequate my playing, the music is all that matters: I am outside time, outside self, in play, in joy. When we can play with the unself-conscious concentration of a child, this is: art: prayer: love.”

I think we all have activities that make us feel free. Free to be ourselves and be part of something more than our mere selves and part of something larger. I know I am when I sing freely. When I feel confident and comfortable enough with a piece of music. I can express myself freely, but freely as a part of something more than myself.

When I feel free in song I embody those words of Maria Popova:

“There must be another way — a way to unself just enough to remember each other, to grow a little more awake to this world that shimmers with wonder, of which any one self is only a fleck.”

When singing I unself just enough to feel fully part of the “Musica Universalis”, I feel a little more awake in the world that shimmers, I am one self in an incredible interconnected universe.

Negative self absorption keeps us separate, locked into all that is wrong with ourselves or all that is wrong with the world. When you look at your own reflection in the mirror, what do you see? Do you see someone that you love? Do you see who you really are? While we may see ourselves warts and all, how many of us see the beauty spots too? The self-absorption that most people I come into contact with suffer from, tends to be a deeply ingrained negative type. The preoccupation is often with what is wrong with them, with their shame, rather than how wonderful they are. Also the pride is in worrying what people think of them, that someone might just see their flaws and reject them.

This kind of self-consciousness can become so consuming that it takes over our human interactions. I wonder how many of us suffer from this kind of commentary when we meet up with people. “What will they think of me?” “How do I look?” “If I say something, will they think I’m an idiot?” and then as it continues, “He gave me a funny look, he must have thought me a fool. Why on earth did I have to make that stupid remark? Gosh I’m such a freak, they all seem to be staring at me.”

This kind of inner dialogue can be so crippling. It can haunt us from the moment we wake and continue throughout our day, eating away at our every decision. Oh and of course because we doubt ourselves and every decision we make, we assume that everyone else must be doing exactly the same thing. This kind of self-consciousness can be so crippling and it blocks us off almost entirely from the world around us. We can be consumed by this kind of self-consciousness we see the world from our own point of view and it aint a pretty one.

So what can we do about it? How do we wake up to a greater consciousness? How do we break free from this crippling self-consciousness?

In the Gospel’s Jesus taught his followers that they must lose themselves in order to be found. That by emptying ourselves of our self-absorption we begin to be filled with the spirit of neighbourliness. So that when we look deeply into the still waters we are not drawn in by narcissistic self-consciousness and loathing at our own reflection, but rather into a deeper contemplation of our shared lives. We become conscious of all that is, all that has been and all that will ever be. By opening ourselves to and for others we begin to shed that debilitating skin of self-consciousness that is so easy to become imprisoned in.

Gandhi said “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in service of others”

The Buddha talked of Nirvana, of being freed from the suffering that was the blight of humanity. He showed that we all suffered and that it was in seeing our suffering as individual that led to this sense of separation. He suggested that we needed to break through our suffering not only to serve others but to reach a higher state of being, true consciousness, to be awake.

Now please don’t get me wrong I am not suggesting that we do not need to know ourselves to understand how we tick. All I am saying is that we must not get stuck there, we must not get lost there and we must not see this as a destination, more a staging post on the journey. The adolescent stage I suspect. Sadly, for many folk, me included, this adolescent stage often goes well into adulthood.

I remember another antidote that probably fuels creativity suggested in Forrest Church’s “Lifecraft”, a book suggesting ways to make life an act of creation, a way to move from self-consciousness to consciousness. He offered three simple suggestions, which he called the three “E’s”, “empathy”, “ecstasy” and “enthusiasm”. The key he claimed could be found in the literal understanding of these words. “Empathy”, to suffer or feel with another; “Ecstasy”, to stand outside ourselves; “Enthusiasm”, to manifest the god (theos) within us.

Empathy is a deep felt compassion. When we open our hearts empathically to another we are courageously refusing to allow self-consciousness to stand in the way of a higher consciousness that comes into being as we feel what another is going through. In so doing we serve both ourselves and the other person, as well as that higher consciousness beyond our singular selves.

Now ecstasy has often been misunderstood as some kind of hedonistic state and therefore self- indulgent, it is far from this. In its truest sense what it actually does is takes us out of ourselves and lifts us beyond the confines of ourselves. In so doing we transcend our self-consciousness and enter a realm in which purpose begins to emerge and meaning is found.

Enthusiasm means to be filled with spirit, with holy energy. Enthusiasm allows us to be fully involved and engaged in whatever it is we are doing. It allows us to see beyond the confines we have created. Forrest himself states that “Here, once again, consciousness displaces self-consciousness. We escape from our mirrored room. Its mirrors turn into windows. Or the pond grows so still that we can see beyond our own reflection to the trees and clouds and birds and sun. There is, by the way, no higher form of spiritual practice. When we step out of our own shadow, consciousness replaces self-consciousness.”

In so doing we are set free to walk with others in our own faltering ways. Instead of being lost in what we believe is wrong with us we are set free to do what we can in this our shared world and in so doing we encourage others to do the same, as perfectly imperfect children of God.

For me the purpose of the spiritual life is to develop a deepening sense of connection. We all have our troubles and our worries either within ourselves, those around us or wider world. We need to see them for what they are, we need to acknowledge the truth, but we must not get stuck there, for that will paralyse us and stop us doing what we can. We cannot change the way the world is but that need not prevent us from doing what we can do and in doing so we will grow spiritually as we become integrated into all that has been, all that exists and all that will ever be.

As a kind of conclusion I’d like to leave you with one final thought. I think that so much of modern spiritually gets it wrong because it is seeking the wrong thing. There is so much talk of finding ourselves, when in actual fact what we ought to be doing is losing ourselves. What we ought to be striving for, I believe, is integration and remove those aspects within ourselves that block this. We all ask the question “Who am I?” when really we ought to asking is “How am I doing? And if we are still feeling utterly dis-connected we need to ask why? And how can I integrate once again? You see if we can begin to integrate with all that is, all that has been and all that has ever been we begin to truly cohere. In doing so we transcend our self-consciousness and become conscious. We become spiritually mature. We become like the Buddha, awake.

So how conscious are you today? Are you truly awake?

If not. I have found a way to unself just enough so that we remember each other, to remember we are part of something wonderful and greater than our little selves. To feel a little more awake in this world that shimmers. To know that our single selves are just a fleck, but a vital part of the “Musica Universalis”

“There must be another way — a way to unself just enough to remember each other”

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

 

A Never-Ending Story: Beginning, Middle and End?

Forrest Church claimed that ”religion is our human response to being alive and having to die”.

We human beings are meaning makers. One way we try to make sense of it all, to find meaning, is through story. Religion at it’s best is about telling stories. Our personal stories and our stories about we as a people.

Our lives are made up of all kinds of stories, that tell us who we are. We connect with one another through the telling of these stories. We all have our stories and we love to hear stories. Stories come in a variety of form too. Poetry is often a kind of story. A good poet will see something and tell us a story through the art of poetry.

Here is wonderful example by Billy Collins, on the art of storytelling through poetry, “Aristotle”.

“Aristotle” by Billy Collins

This is the beginning.
Almost anything can happen.
This is where you find
the creation of light, a fish wriggling onto land,
the first word of Paradise Lost on an empty page.
Think of an egg, the letter A,
a woman ironing on a bare stage
as the heavy curtain rises.
This is the very beginning.
The first-person narrator introduces himself,
tells us about his lineage.
The mezzo-soprano stands in the wings.
Here the climbers are studying a map
or pulling on their long woolen socks.
This is early on, years before the Ark, dawn.
The profile of an animal is being smeared
on the wall of a cave,
and you have not yet learned to crawl.
This is the opening, the gambit,
a pawn moving forward an inch.
This is your first night with her,
your first night without her.
This is the first part
where the wheels begin to turn,
where the elevator begins its ascent,
before the doors lurch apart.

This is the middle.
Things have had time to get complicated,
messy, really. Nothing is simple anymore.
Cities have sprouted up along the rivers
teeming with people at cross-purposes—
a million schemes, a million wild looks.
Disappointment unshoulders his knapsack
here and pitches his ragged tent.
This is the sticky part where the plot congeals,
where the action suddenly reverses
or swerves off in an outrageous direction.
Here the narrator devotes a long paragraph
to why Miriam does not want Edward's child.
Someone hides a letter under a pillow.
Here the aria rises to a pitch,
a song of betrayal, salted with revenge.
And the climbing party is stuck on a ledge
halfway up the mountain.
This is the bridge, the painful modulation.
This is the thick of things.
So much is crowded into the middle—
the guitars of Spain, piles of ripe avocados,
Russian uniforms, noisy parties,
lakeside kisses, arguments heard through a wall—
too much to name, too much to think about.

And this is the end,
the car running out of road,
the river losing its name in an ocean,
the long nose of the photographed horse
touching the white electronic line.
This is the colophon, the last elephant in the parade,
the empty wheelchair,
and pigeons floating down in the evening.
Here the stage is littered with bodies,
the narrator leads the characters to their cells,
and the climbers are in their graves.
t is me hitting the period
and you closing the book.
It is Sylvia Plath in the kitchen
and St. Clement with an anchor around his neck.
This is the final bit
thinning away to nothing.
This is the end, according to Aristotle,
what we have all been waiting for,
what everything comes down to,
the destination we cannot help imagining,
a streak of light in the sky,
a hat on a peg, and outside the cabin, falling leaves.

Way, way before the Jospeh Campbell outlined the eleven stages of the “Heroes Journey” and the wonderful Kurt Vonnegut illustrated the shape of stories, with practical beauty and humour, it was Aristotle who formulated the notion that a story must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Now of course we clever people who live today would say, well obviously. That said what goes without saying today, had to be said by someone in the first place and then repeated over and over again, just like any good story. The best stories are not heard the once, they are repeated again and again and again.

Phil Cousineau believes that stories save our souls. In “The Oldest Story in the World: A Mosaic of Meditations on the Secret Strength of Stories” he observed that this much he knew:

"Every day we have at least one gut-check moment. Every day we are asked, 'Do you want to hear a story?' A hundred times a day our deeper life awaits our signal that, yes, we are listening. Whether we are camped around a fire on the Comanche Moon trail, sitting in the literary salons of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas on the Rue des Fleurs in Paris, craning our necks during a Hollywood studio script meeting, cosseting our children by reading out loud to them from the great round of Harry Potter adventures, or trading old baseball stories in the stands with old teammates, we are responding to the blue longing in our restless souls to be carried away by the kind of story that makes life worth living.”

Our lives are made up of stories. This is what we do. We tell and we listen to stories. As the poet Muriel Rukeyser remarked 'The world is made up of stories, not atoms.'

Stories are not fact, they are not history, they are “Mythos”. They reveal a deeper universal “truth” that all people can connect to regardless of time and place. Mythos reveals a deeper “truth” about the human condition and nature of reality. They help us engage in the conversational nature of existence. A story is a deep conversation with life that enables us to connect more deeply to the meaning in life. Even good history is really about the telling of stories, it is not just prosaic fact. History comes alive by the telling of the stories within the events

Stories and story-telling have been distilling wisdom throughout the generations and I have no doubt that this will continue on into eternity. Yes, a good story has a beginning, a middle and end, Aristotle revealed this truth. The absolute truth is that as story ends, it goes on, it begins again. As Limahl sang it’s a “Neverending Story”.

Here is a never-ending story. It is taken from “Concentration and Compassion: More Stories from the World’s Spiritual Traditions” by my friend and retired colleague Rev Bill Darlison. It goes by the title

“The Endless Story”

In the Far East there was a great king called Calapha who had no work to do. Every day, and all day long, he sat on soft cushions and listened to stories. And no matter what the story was about, he never grew tired of hearing it, even though it was very long. “There is only one fault that I find with your story,” he often said: ‘It is too short.’

All the story-tellers in the world were invited to his palace, and some of them told tales that were very long indeed. But the king was always sad when a story was ended.

At last he sent word into every city and town and country place, offering a prize to anyone who should tell him and endless tale. He said, ‘To the man that will tell me a story which shall last forever, I will give Zaidee, my fairest daughter, for his wife; and I will make him my heir, and he shall be king after me.’

But this was not all. He added a very hard condition. “If any man shall try to tell such a story, and then fail, he shall have his head cut off.’

Zaidee was very pretty, and there were many young men in that country who were willing to do anything to win her. But none of them wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few tried for the prize.

One young man invented a story that lasted three months, but at the end of that time, he could think of nothing more. His fate was a warning to others, and it was a long time before another story-teller was so rash as to try the king’s patience.

But one day a stranger from the South came into the palace.
‘Great king,’ he said, ‘is it true that you offer a prize to the man who can tell a story that has no end?’
‘It is true,; said the king.
‘And shall this man have your fairest daughter for his wife, and shall he be your heir?’
‘Yes, if he succeeds,’ said the king. ‘But if he fails, he shall lose his head.’
‘Very well, then,’ said the stranger. ‘I have a pleasant story about locusts which I would like to relate.’
‘Tell it’ said the king. ‘I will listen to you.’
The story teller began his tale. ‘Once upon a time a certain king seized upon all the corn in his country, and stored it away in a strong granary. But a storm of locusts came over the land and saw where the grain had been put. After searching for many days they found on the east side of the granary a crevice that was just large enough for one locust to pass through at a time. So one locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.’
Day after day, week after week, the man kept on saying, ‘Then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.’
A month passed; a year passed. At the end of two years, the king said, ‘How much longer will the locust be going in and carrying away corn?’
‘O king! Said the story-teller, ‘they have as yet cleared only one small corner; and there are millions more grains of corn in the granary.’
‘Stop, Stop!’ cried the king, ‘You will drive me mad. I can listen to it no longer. Take my daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do not let me hear another word about those horrible locusts!’
And so the strange story-teller married Princess Zaidee, and he lived happily ever after in the land for many years. But his father-in-law, the king, had had enough of the endless stories.

One of my great pleasures is listening to people’s stories. I mentioned last week that I listened to 105 year old man tell his story. It was a beautiful experience as he spoke so eloquently, for 45 minutes, about his 70 years of recovery. He talked about many trials and tribulations as well as loves and joys he had experienced in such a long life. He spoke mainly about love and forgiveness. There seemed not a hint of regret and or pity in his voice. He shone like a light and had the most amazing skin. If you could manufacture what he had as a beauty company you would make a fortune. You cannot though. The feeling I got was of a man still looking forward to whatever story he still had to live. His story will one day end, but not just yet.

I was invited to share my story the other day. Afterwards a young man approached me and said he had heard my story before, even though we had ever met. As he listened to me he said he had heard my story before. Here was three years later a new person to recovery and heard my story from my moth. Apparently what he had heard had stayed with him and eventually prompted him to act. We came together that day and he heard and connected with it. I could have wept, but instead I just simply smiled.

Here is a classic parable from the New Testament on “Love and Forgiveness”, from Luke’s Gospel Chapter 15 vv 11-32

The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother

11 Then Jesus[a] said, “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the wealth that will belong to me.’ So he divided his assets between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant region, and there he squandered his wealth in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that region, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that region, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled his stomach[b] with the pods that the pigs were eating, and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to his senses he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ’ 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’[c] 22 But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate, 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

25 “Now his elder son was in the field, and as he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has got him back safe and sound.’ 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your assets with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31 Then the father[d] said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

The great sages like Jesus and the Buddha excelled in storytelling. They knew how to relate to and reach people, that a story could open them up, that it could put flesh on the word. Shaman and elders of other traditions shared this wisdom, as they told their tales around the campfires and gatherings. They drew their listeners to deeper visions of life with imagery and symbolism. The storyteller has always been with us and is with us today. Today everyone is a story teller. On social media we have our stories, they are designed to be shared. Like all classic tales, these stories are an interesting mixture of the good and bad, the negative and the positive, the light and dark.

The old stories were not just entertainment, they were trying to teach something about the nature of humanity and life itself, they had a kind of morality about them, an ethic a meaning,. Some say that today this narrative has almost disappeared.

Post-modernism would claim that today there is no longer one narrative. The French philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard has defined post-modernism as ‘the death of metanarrative’. He claimed that we no longer have nor need the big stories ‘that tell us who we are, where we come from, and what we are called to do.’

Personally, I am not convinced by this argument as I do see universal qualities in all these tales. Whether it’s the one I hear from friends and family, or the one I see on the big screen, or the one I read in some ancient text. The stories may be told in different ways but they still connect us with one another through time and space. They do more than connect us though, they heal us, they renew us and spur us on to greater things. Regardless of when they were first told and by who they still have the capacity to tell us who we are, where we come from and what we are called to do.

Here's a favourite story from my favourite character, someone I can relate to.

“One afternoon, Nasruddin and his friend were sitting in a cafe, drinking tea and talking about life and love. His friend asked: ‘How come you never married?’

‘Well,’ said Nasruddin, ‘to tell you the truth, I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo I met a beautiful and intelligent woman, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a woman who was a wonderful and generous soul, but we had no common interests. One woman after another would seem just right, but there would always be something missing. Then one day, I met her; beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. We had very much in common. In fact, she was perfect!’

‘So, what happened?’ asked Nasruddin’s friend, ‘Why didn’t you marry her?’

Nasruddin sipped his tea reflectively. ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘it’s really the sad story of my life…. It seemed that she was looking for the perfect man…’ “

I love Nasruddin, the holy fool. You will find characters like him in most cultures. Through humour they reveal deep truths, ones that are too often hidden.

Humour is something that helps us through the great trials of life. Many of the great stories have laughter and humour within them. Sadly humour can be absent in the spiritual life, it ought not to be. There is something lacking in a spirituality that takes itself too seriously. The spiritual life can at times be perceived as an arid and serious world, utterly devoid of humour and lightness. Many of us look at the spiritual, the religious life, as if were a dose of rather distasteful medicine. We may well see the benefits of it, but aren’t sure we would like the way it tastes. We are frightened that it might actually reduce our experience of life. We can easily become too intense and earnest in our approach to spirituality; by doing so we can view laughter as sacrilegious and end up apologising for the freedom that it can breed. We should never apologise for experiencing joy and laughter. The spiritual life needs humour. There is humour in the ancient tales, so surely there is a place for it in our age. There is always room for Divine humour. “Life is too serious to be taken too seriously.”

As we come towards the end of this adventure in story I wonder what your story is. What is the story that speaks to you and of you? Where do you find yourself, what gives you the permission to simply be? What is your favourite story. Here is one of mine:

It comes from "Have a Little Faith" by Mitch Albom.

“A man seeks employment on a farm. He hands his letter of recommendation to his new employer. It reads simply, `He sleeps in a storm.’

The owner is desperate for help, so he hires the man.

Several week pass, and suddenly, in the middle of the night, a powerful storm rips through the valley.
Awakened by the swirling rain and howling wind, the owner leaps out of bed. He calls for his new hired hand, but the man is sleeping soundly.

So he dashes off to the barn. He sees, to his amazement, that the animals are secure with plenty of feed. He runs out to the field. He sees the bales of wheat have been bound and are wrapped in tarpaulins. He races to the silo. The doors are latched, and the grain is dry.

And then he understands.

`He sleeps in a storm.’

My friends, if we tend to the things that are important in life, if we are right with those we love and behave in line with our [beliefs], our lives will not be cursed with the aching throb of unfulfilled business. Our words will always be sincere, our embraces will be tight. We will never wallow in the agony of `I could have, I should have.’ We can sleep in a storm.

And when it’s time, our good-byes will be complete.”

In “Crow and Weasel” Barry Lopez said

“The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.”

I will continue to listen to the stories and when they come to me I will nurture them, I will take care of them and I will continue to give them away, we all need them. I ask that you do the same, because by doing so we will better take care of ourselves.

I will continue telling the tale and I will listen as you tell yours. For the story goes on and on. The story is never ending.

So I will leave you with a question to ponder. What is your story? What is the story that speaks to you and of you?

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

No Matter What and Bridget Jones: Stories about the Eternity of Love

I will begin with a favourite story a story about love and the eternity of love really.

"No Matter What" by Debi Gliori

Small was feeling grim and dark. Playing toss and fling and squash, Yell and scream and bang and crash. Break and snap and bash and batter… “Good grief,” said Large. “What is the matter?” Small said “I’m a grim and grumpy little Small and nobody loves me at all.” “Oh Small,” said Large. “Grumpy or not, I’ll always love you no matter what.” Small said, “If I was a grizzly bear, would you still love me, would you care?” “Of course,” said Large, “bear or not, I’ll always love you no matter what.” Small said, “But if I turned into a bug, would you still love me and give me a hug?” “Of course,” said Large, “bug or not, I’ll always love you no matter what.” “No matter what?” said Small, and smiled, “What if I was a crocodile?” Large said “I’d hug you close and tight and tuck you up in bed each night”. “Does love wear out” said Small, “does it break or bend? Can you fix it, stick it, does it mend?” “Oh help,” said Large “I’m not that clever I just know I’ll love you for ever”. Small said “but what about when we're dead and gone, would you love me then, does love go on?” Large held Small snug as they looked out at the night, at the moon in the dark, and the stars shining bright. “Small look at the stars – how they shine and glow, but some of those stars died a long time ago.” Still they shine in the evening skies. Love, like starlight, never dies”.

A beautiful story don’t you think.

By the way apologies, I have a really heavy cold. I hope you can understand me.

Molly was full of life and love on Monday morning. I think she spent the best part of two hours running and playing in the park. It was a joy to see her running alive and enjoying the joys of spring. It did feel like it was in the air. I spent some of the time in conversation with a friend and her dog Ronnie, Molly’s favourite. They had a ball together. We also spent time talking about a few things, particularly friends who we have some concerns about. As is often the case I spent most of my time listening, I generally follow the suggestion from James 1 v 19-20 “You must understand this, my beloved:[g] let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; 20 for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. “ Something we could all do with paying attention to in this day and age. I did share a little about a sense of weariness this winter, that I felt surrounded by grief. Both congregations have lost several people this winter.

So, it was lovely to find myself walking in love and life and watching the signs of spring all around me, particularly in this sweet little dog.

I have been to the pictures a couple of times in recent weeks. I enjoyed both occasions, sharing with friends and enjoying the whole cinema experience at “Everyman” in Altrincham . I have been to see two very different films. The first being “A Complete Unknown” the Bob Dylan biopic, which was superb. The second being very different “Bridget Jones; Mad About the Boy”, the fourth instalment in the Bridget Jones series. I think I have seen the original and perhaps another one. I have to say it is not something that has been high my lists of interests.

So, I began to watch, with not a great deal of expectation. I surprised myself though as I got caught up in the humour, which was easy to engage in and the quality of the actors and characters. It is of course a romantic love story, these films always are. That said what got me, what held me, was when I realised it truly was a love story, but not the kind you would expect. It was a story about grief. Grief of course is all about love. In fact grief is the price we pay for love. We all love and thus we all grieve when that which we love is lost.

It is a story of about Bridget beginning to live again after the loss of her husband Mark D’Arcy, the father of two children Billy and Mabel. It is a funny and poignant portrayal, sweet and painful at times. It also has this rather lovely ability to explore all the experiences and stages of grief; all the different conversations and reactions to grief and those who grieve; it explored the spiritual, religious, psychological, social and plain old human experiences that all who grieve and begin to live again will experience. It is not only a journey about Bridget’s grief though, but also that of her children, particular her son Billy. His journey through grief was threaded through the whole story. Yes, obviously it is Bridget who gets all the focus and attention, this is the film. That said it was his journey through grief that spoke powerfully to me.

There is also the rather lovely relationship that eventually forms between Bridget and Billy’s science teacher Mr Wallacker. Now as their relationship, initially not romantic develops, there is a wonderful interplay between the secular and spiritual about life and death and what lives on. As I watched one scene the following from Forrest Church’s “Love and Death: My Journey Through the Vally of the Shadow” floated through my mind:

“Whatever happens to us after we die, life doesn’t end in oblivion. It continues in love, our own love, once given, everlasting. After death our bodies may be resurrected. Our Souls may transmigrate or become part of the heavenly pleroma. We may join our loved ones in Heaven. Or we may return the constituent parts of our being to the earth from which it came and rest in eternal peace. About life after death, no-one knows.

But about love after death, we surely know. The one thing that can never be taken from this world, even by death, is the love we have given before we die. Love I swear it, is immortal”

This is the beautiful message of the film. A similar message to that of the beautiful “No Matter What” by Debi Gliori, that I shared earlier “Small look at the stars – how they shine and glow, but some of those stars died a long time ago.” Still they shine in the evening skies. Love, like starlight, never dies”.

These were feelings expressed throughout the film, or at least this is what I heard, regardless of individuals foundational beliefs.

The film also humourously portrays what to do and what not to do when journeying with someone through grief. How to be a friend, or collegue or doctor. The key I have learnt is similar to those lessons from James 1 v 19 “You must understand this, my beloved:[g] let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak…” So many folk wanted to get Bridget and the children through the grief, offered terrible and good advice, when the best thing to do is to simply accompany another through grief. If a person is allowed to do so, in time, life will continue one. The grief and love within it becomes a part of you and you live again. You feel what I felt on Monday morning watching Molly playing so alive in the park. Spring coming life, after another winter.

To live fully alive is to live with the whole of life, even the great sorrows. You don’t get to filter life

The Sufi mystic said to be as a ‘guest house’ and welcome each new arrival, even if it be a crowd of sorrows. Invite them in, Rumi says. Meet them at the door laughing, treat each guest honorably. They may be clearing you out for some new delight.

How many of us can say that grief is a welcome guest at our door? None I would suspect. And yet how many of us would not invite love in. Grief of course is the price we pay for love. It can seem too high a price at times. Grief is a hard companion. In her book “Companion through the Darkness” Stephanie Ericsson says,

“Grief is a tidal wave that overtakes you, smashes you up into its darkness, where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces, only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped.”

I once hear grief described as being like a vast and lonely plain where all the echoes are of only one sound; or that grief rises suddenly, in unexpected moments; or that it is a constant ache, ever present. C.S. Lewis once exclaimed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” Grief is not easy and I’m sure none of us would wish to invite in this unwelcome guest. How many of us welcome it in others? How many can welcome it for a short while, but not for too long?

It is better by far to share it, to speak of it, though it is wrenching to do so. William Shakespeare noted: “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.” The difficult path through grief is the only path that exists. “Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,” invite it in. Don’t run from it, because you can’t escape it.

Grief does not always appear as tears, it affects people in different ways. Grief can make us cry uncontrollably and it can make us go numb. Grief can make us feel guilty or depressed or fearful or angry. Grief can cause emotional problems in our hearts and physical problems in our bodies. Grief can put us in a state of disbelief; it can make us withdraw; it can make us feel like we are going crazy. In other words, no matter what the textbook tells you, the stages of grief do not offer a direct route.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s model from her 1969 book suggests the passage is: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It is often forgotten that Kubler-Ross also said the list is not comprehensive and can happen in any order.

There is a funny moment in the Bridget Jones film when her friends wanting her to get through the grief say she is going through the different stages, but not really understanding what they are. They want her get through, want her laughing again, but is so doing they are not allowing her to journey as she should. Grief is not some clinical journey that follows a set pattern. Grief is about love, human love, so how on earth could it be.

Grief is not an illness that we need to get over and recover from and then just leave behind. Remember grief is about love and the loss of the physical aspects of love, so to leave it behind, would be to let go of love. As Megan Devine has said:

"Grief no more needs a solution than love needs a solution. We cannot 'triumph' over death, or loss, or grief. They are immovable elements of being alive. If we continue to come at them as though they are problems to be solved, we'll never get solace or comfort in our deepest pain."

Grief is not an illness, unless you think that love is a disease in need of a cure.

When we lose someone we love, our lives are changed forever. Our lives will never be the same again. We don’t rise above our pain. We don’t pretend it’s not there. We don’t get over it. We live through it, and we are changed by it. Grieving, then, is more about transformation than transcendence. It is not about explaining loss or understanding why something happened. Grieving is about finding meaning in the absence of an explanation. Let me repeat that. Grieving is about finding meaning in the absence of an explanation.

And what is the meaning? Well the meaning is in the love that lives on. The love that is immortal. So beautifully portrayed in this delightful Romantic Comedy “Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy” and articulated in the children’s story “No matter What”. I will repeat the final line to end this morning. “Large held Small snug as they looked out at the night, at the moon in the dark, and the stars shining bright. “Small look at the stars – how they shine and glow, but some of those stars died a long time ago.” Still they shine in the evening skies. Love, like starlight, never dies”.”

Love like starlight never dies.

Below is a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

Living by and through Blessing: The Sacred Dash

“A Baptism” by Robert R Walsh

She called to ask if I would baptize her infant son.

I said, "What we do is like a baptism, but not exactly. And we normally do it only for people who are part of the church family. The next one we have scheduled is in May."

She said, "Could we come to talk with you about it anyway?"

They came to see me, the very young woman and her child and the child's very young father. She explained that the child had been born with a heart defect. He had to have a risky heart operation soon. She had asked the clergyman of her own church if he would baptize her son, and he had refused because she was not married to the baby’s father.

I told them that their not being married would not be an impediment to anything we might do, but that our child dedication ceremony still might not be what they were looking for.

I explained that our ceremony does not wash away any sin, it does not guarantee the child a place in heaven, it doesn't even make the child a member of the church.

In fact, I said, it doesn't change the child at all. What we expect is that it will change the rest of us in our relationship with the child, and with all children.

She listened patiently. When I was through she said, "All I want is to know that God blesses my baby."

In my mind I gasped at the sudden clarity in the room. I said, with a catch in my throat, "I think I can do that." And I did.

Every week I record my address on YouTube and post it for whoever wants to hear. I have been doing so ever since the lockdown in 2020. I also create a "blogpost", which I have been doing since 2011. The YouTube post used to be a bit convoluted, more of a complete devotion. I still call it a devotion, although I have simplified it over time. I do continue to end with words of “blessing” or at least that is what I call them. I say something like, “I am going to end with some words of blessing, you know we need to bless more, we can all bless, we bless when we give ourselves wholeheartedly to life.” I then offer some words of blessing of my own, that change each week, before ending with words I end each Sunday service with “…and may we do so in all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do.” When I think of my ministry and what it means, what is at the heart of it, it could well be described as a kind of theology of blessing. Something we need so much of right now, when everything seems to be getting louder and louder and ever more aggressive. When we look at one another do we see someone made of the same flesh and born of the same spirit; do we recognize that we are born from the same “Original Blessing”. When God saw his creation in Gensis 1, God saw that it was good, each aspect, was blessed and on the sixth day was seen as very good. Now, of course this is not literal, this is metaphor, mythos, but at its heart is this concept of blessing and goodness and the purpose being to become a blessing to life, a creator not a destroyer.

To live by blessing is at the heart of my faith. Not always easy and I fall short every day, including at times failing to see myself as someone born from goodness, with the capacity to live in and by blessing.

I have been thinking about this quite a lot recently, particularly in relation to “Rites of Passage”, for I see blessing as being at the heart of it all, from beginning to end.

Last Monday evening I met with Peter Williams to discuss and plan his mother Margaret’s memorial service. Peter will write and deliver the main eulogy, Barbara will share some personal memories and then we decided to include a little ritual where those in attendance will be invited to come forward, light a candle and share their memories of Margaret. Peter wanted the community to share their memories, as he put it, he wanted folk to share their memories of mum, that it wasn’t about him, or anyone person, but about everyone; that we shared the memories of her life and how we were blessed by it. A eulogy after all is a piece that praises someone. I thought it was a lovely way to remember the blessings shared and a blessing to all.

On Tuesday I conducted the funeral of Marjorie Harrison, she had lived just beyond 100 years. An incredible life and one in which she had beaten the odds so many times, having survived Tuberculosis, Hepatitis, cancer and a severe stroke 26 years previously. As I delivered her eulogy I felt powerfully how many lives Margery had blessed. There many, but one special way, was the gift of holidays to Great Hucklow, something she shared with her whole family and whenever they are there they will feel powerfully that blessing. A blessing that will live for many years to come.

I recently met with a young person and their mother. The young person is thirteen years old. They contacted me to ask if we could create a ceremony where they could commit themselves to life in a new way and whilst doing so receive the support from God parents. They do not have a particular belief system that they follow, they are someone who would be categorized as “None” on the census, but not an atheist, the term often used is “spiritual, not religious”. I listened and asked questions and then explained my concept of “Blessing” to them, they listened with interest. I described what I would do in a ceremony with a child and how we could develop that. We all walked away with ideas buzzing around in our minds and souls, I look forward to creating something and sharing the blessing in the summer.

When I conduct such ceremonies with children, what some call Christenings, or Baptisms, or welcoming and naming ceremonies, I simply call them “Blessings”, I use water, but not to wash away sin, our tradition rejected this concept long ago. I do not believe that any child is born into this world carrying any baggage; I cannot and will not accept that. Instead, what I do is celebrate and bless the life of the child. I touch their brow, their lips and their hands to bless their thoughts, their words and their deeds and ask for promises to be made by the family and God parents to offer guidance, to help them do good, so as to be a blessing to the world. I would think that both Margaret and Margery who were lifelong Unitarians would have had a similar ceremony when they were infants.

My whole theology, my belief is of blessing, that we are here to live our lives as a blessing, that the dash between our dates of birth and death should be about blessing, both giving and receiving as much as possible. By the way this is not something I have made up myself, there is a long and rich history to it.

In “Original Blessing”, Matthew Fox claims that blessing runs like a thread through the whole creation story. He says “ ‘Original Blessing’ underlies all being, all creation, all time, all space, all unfolding and evolving of what is.” And quotes Rabbi Herschell who said “Just to be is a blessing, just to live is holy”

He does not claim that humanity is incapable of wrong doing, even evil. Quite the opposite, as history has shown. As the present shows. Of course there is human frailty and obvious limitations. There is no denial of sin, just a rejection of “Original Sin”. What he is saying is that this brokenness can never outweigh the many gifts that we do have to offer and that life has to offer us. That we can live a life of blessing and thus be blessed by life.

He says that:

“A theology of blessing is a theology about a different kind of power. Not the power of control or the power of being over or under, but the power of fertility. Blessing is fertility to the people of Israel and to the Native American and other pre-patriarchal religions.”

These teachings are close to the earth, to the cosmos. They are linked to Jesus’s teachings expressed in the Beatitudes “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; blessed are the peace makers...” There is nothing new in the teachings he is simply saying that we share our blessings by giving of ourselves to others, by being a bright spot in people lives. It is an active, living, breathing way. It is “Love’s Way”.

Or as I say we need to bless more, we can all bless, we bless by giving ourselves wholeheartedly to life…In all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do.

As I was driving back from Margery’s funeral, I was reflecting on some of the people who have blessed my life. I was also a little caught up in some serious concerns, that were weighing heavily on my heart. The type that keep me too much in myself. I took Molly out for a walk. She had been really good as I left her maybe five or six hours, which is too long. She was pleased to see me, but was calm about it. As we headed out I said hello to a few folk I met in town, the staff in Café Nero waved and smiled at us as we walked on by and we went to park where Molly ran free, what a blessing and utter joy it was watch her so happy, so free.

As she played with a little dog she has played with since they were both puppies, Molly is just two weeks older, I was reminded of a beautiful piece of wisdom from Forrest Church’s masterpiece “Love and Death: My Journey Through the Valley of the Shadow”, written while he was dying of esophageal cancer. He asked, "knowing that we will die, what should we do?" To which he answered, "we should live, we should laugh, and we should love." He then recalled a lesson he learnt from his children, about living. One day, when they were young, he was walking them to school, on a busy New York street. Suddenly a car swerved round a corner and almost killed them all. Forrest was incensed by this, but he remembers, "my kids just laughed, romping blithely down the sidewalk, jumping from tree to tree as they always did, trying to touch the leaves." The kids were celebrating, nay singing the joy of living, and they "had the right idea. Why didn't I think to jump and touch the leaves?"

This is surely a tale of blessing. Forrest believed that it was living, loving and laughing that took real courage, they required heart, while dying didn’t really take much courage at all, in his eyes that just came naturally. Something he was experiencing as he wrote these words. Words that have been such a blessing to my ministry.

Now to really live Forrest suggested a simple little mantra:" Want what you have. Do what you can. Be who you are." He didn’t suggest that this would be easy but it is the only way to live and in so doing we will live in such a way that our lives will prove worth dying for by the love we leave behind.

Perhaps somewhere in that little mantra is an answer as to how we live by and through blessing. It is to want the things that make up our lives and not wish for something else and in so doing we might just begin to be who we truly are, instead of wishing we were someone else. In so doing we can do the things that we are able to do and thus bring deep meaning to the little bit of the dash that we are living right now. In so doing we will bless life, and it will bless us in return.

This is the gift of life, the beautiful gift of being alive in this ordinary moment, a moment that can become deep and meaningful, not only for ourselves but for those we get to share our lives with. This is blessing, this is live by and through blessing. For we never know how long we’ve got left how close we are to the end of the line, the last part of dash. Nore, do we know how close those we love are to the end of theirs. How much time we have left to bless and be blessed.

Peter has requested a poem to be read at Margaret’s memorial service. He said he decided on it when he was reading the names of the wall of “The Garden of Remembrance” at Dunham Road, how it states their names and their dates of both birth and death, but nothing of their lives. He made a powerful point. It says nothing of how they blessed and how they were a blessing, that is for those who live on to know and hopefully share. I thought that what peter shared with me was a blessing in its self.

So with this in mind, I am going to end this morning with the poem, which I have shared before, “The Dash” by Linda Ellis

“The Dash” by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak at a funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke of the following date with tears but said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time they spent alive on earth and now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own, the cars…the house…the cash. What matters is how we lived and loved and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard; are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time is left that still can be rearranged.

To be less quick to anger and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile…remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash, would you be proud of the things they say about how you lived your dash?

Amen

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

Life is a Circle: Tradition is not the Worship of Ashes but the Preservation of Fire

Cynicism can be very seductive, to get caught up in all that is wrong with the world. To put down those who speak with a hopeful voice. To say we’ve tried this before, there really is no point to this. It is easy to get caught up in fear and negativity about the world, to say what’s the point; to think what’s the point in doing my little bit, it will make no difference. Well, I don’t believe that for one moment. I live in and by hope. There maybe no point to things, but then life doesn’t work like this. There is no end goal, life is a circle. We are not heading for some unknown place, we are moving in circles and the point is how we live. This is a great universal truth, a truth told by every great story ever told. There is no end to this.

As I mentioned last week I enjoyed much of Summer School. One of the many treasures are the daily “Theme Talks”. Michael Allured was minister of the week. He held the last talk, which began with a story that Michael is well known for telling. The story is the “The Starfish Story”. I have told it myself many times. Here is a version:

A young boy is walking along the beach when he sees hundreds of starfish washed up on the shore. In dismay, and realizing that many of them are still alive, he begins chucking them back out to sea so they won’t die on the beach. A man comes along and asks him, “Why are you throwing those starfish back out into the sea? You can’t possibly save all these starfish! What difference can you make when there are so many to be saved?” After thinking about it for a moment, and throwing one more starfish back out into the water, the boy replies, “I just made a difference for that one!”

As I spoke of last week you never known what one little action can begin to trigger. I know that hope is often born from despair, often a new hope is born. What I kearnt to call respair, a new hope a fresh hope, but it is up to us, inspired by the spirt. There is never an end to anything, the world keeps on spinning round. What the world is though depends on the way we live this day.

As I said I enjoyed the theme talks at Summer School. I can’t talk about them all. I will just talk of some of the aspects of one led by Lizzie Kingston Harrison, who is our Congregational Connections lead and Liz Slade who is our Chief Officer. Lizzie Kingston Harrison is also training for the ministry and is one of several talented people coming through. Whenever Lizzie speaks she impresses me. I had a wonderful conversation at “Ministry in the Making”, that inspired my thinking around some of my own foundational theology. She gave a fascinating talk on Joseph Priestley at the General Assembly. Her contribution to the theme talk was both moving and inspiring. She is rooted in classic Unitarian theology, but with her feet firmly grounded in the present and vision toward the future. She looks forward with real hope. She describes herself as natural optimist, nay radical optimist. She talked about the importance of not focusing on some perceived goal, but to understand that we are grounded in a great historical tradition, a part of history, but that this is not linear, heading toward some unknown promised land. She instead highlights that journey is circular. That all life is circular, that we are not looking for some promised land, some Nirvana, somewhere beyond the rainbow. Well, that is at least how I interpreted her talk. That the Unitarian approach to religion, is real, grounded in this life. That we sanctify in and through this life. That the likes of Priestley and our forebears, in rejecting “Original Sin”, and thus the need to be saved from ourselves, embraced the humanness of Jesus and this life, the sacredness of this life, and as I would see it, that we are here to sanctify in and through life. Throughout her talk she repeated a wonderful phrase. “Tradition is not the worship of ashes but the preservation of fire.” That ours is a living tradition, that can inspire all who live today.

Behind her, as she spoke, was this wonderful image of Hildegard of Bingen’s Mandala, which was a beautiful circular pattern, inspired by one of her mystical visions. It shows the cosmic connection of all angels, all people, and all beings celebrating the creation that God has made for us. It is from the “Second Vision of the Second Part of De Operatione Dei.”

The emphasis of her talk was on the circular nature of life, claiming that this is the wisdom of Ecclesiastes and quoted the following verse from Ecclesiastes 3 vv 1-8

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

2 a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
7 a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

I love Ecclesiastes and the idea that life moves in seasons and that there is time for everything in life, it is every changing and impermanent. To quote the wisdom of Soloman, “This too shall pass.” Now one mistake that is often made with Ecclesiastes is to think that in suggesting there is a time for everything, it does not mean that we can do everything, or that we should even try to do everything. This can be a mistake we make in life and was a repeated theme during Summer School, that it is important to understand what you can do, but not try to do everything, joy and fun and pleasure are vital to the soul. Also, that you need to leave space for others to, live too.

This brings to mind a wonderful poem, a reaction to Ecclesiastes, “A Man in His Life” by Yehuda Amichai

A man in his life has no time to have
Time for everything.
He has no room to have room
For every desire. Ecclesiastes was wrong to claim that.

A man has to hate and love all at once,
With the same eyes to cry and to laugh
With the same hands to throw stones
And to gather them,
Make love in war and war in love.

And hate and forgive and remember and forget
And order and confuse and eat and digest
What long history does
In so many years.

A man in his life has no time.
When he loses he seeks
When he finds he forgets
When he forgets he loves
When he loves he begins forgetting.

And his soul is knowing
And very professional,
Only his body remains an amateur
Always. It tries and fumbles.
He doesn’t learn and gets confused,
Drunk and blind in his pleasures and pains.

In autumn, he will die like a fig,
Shriveled, sweet, full of himself.
The leaves dry out on the ground,
And the naked branches point
To the place where there is time for everything.

We cannot do everything, but we can do something. Also, we can fall and mess up a thousand times, but still begin again in love. I am reminded here of that great nineteenth Unitarian Edward Everett Hale and his famous quote:

“I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”

Going back to Ecclesiastes and its wisdom, despite its limits. The main point of Ecclesiastes is that is there is no point. Now this is not negativity or pessimism. The point so to speak is that there is no end to this. There is no end point we are aiming for, no places where we come to rest. Not a promised Land, a Heaven, a Nirvana, an Oz, an Ithaka. Remember the point of Ithica is that it gave us the beautiful journey. This is the massage of Ecclesiastes, that there is no point to this, so enjoy the tasks we have before us, this is heaven to find our meaning as Frankl highlighted. That heaven is found in the living, not some places at the other side of the rainbow. Yes, seasons come and go, but the fire remains in all the changes, the spirit is alive in and through us and all life. This is the radiant core at the centre that we circle around. No one knows what the future looks like or will be, but that is not what fires and inspires us, what inspires us is the love of what and where we find ourselves, to love it, to follow the example of Jesus and his message of radical love and radical optimism. To bless and sanctify this life. Not perfectly, but with love, imperfectly. Even if we have fallen short a thousand times, to paraphrase Rumi.

What is important is to recognise that we are temporal beings, but that life itself is eternal and our task here is to enjoy this life as part of this life and to take care of what is ours to take of. To bless this life and fully part of it, is what will sustain us, this is where the spirit lives. The mistake is that we focus on some perceived goal, a destination that may not be reached. The key is to sanctify life, one another and in so doing we live sacred lives. To paraphrases good old Forrest Church, to live in such a way that our lives will prove worth dying for by the love we leave behind. The wheel continues to turn, and we get the beautiful journey.

Ecclesiastes, particularly those verses from the third chapter, speak an eternal and universal truth that generation after generation have found that they can relate to. The power of this ancient source lays in its ability to link we who live today with the generations that have walked the earth before us. We all of us have travelled many and varied journeys and lived through all the seasons of life. Nothing is permanent and nothing lasts forever. No one will ever escape the pain of life, but that ought not bring despair because if we remain open we will also know life’s joy. Yes, there is a time to mourn, but there is also a time to dance; there is a time to weep, but there is also a time to laugh.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. ”There are many seasons in our lives, just as there are many different emotions. Yes, sometimes we can experience all those emotions in one single day, just as we can experience four seasons in one day. There is a time and perhaps a place for all of them, for to diminish any of them is deny what it is to be fully human. Yes, there is a time to weep, just as there is a time to laugh and there is a time to mourn, just as much as there is a time to dance.

I have wept several times in recent weeks and have held others in their suffering too, that said I have also laughed many times too, I have seen joy and I have seen how life continues on. As Ecclesiastes says in Ch1 v 4 “Generations come and generations go, but the earth abides forever”.

Life is circular, everything changes, but life itself goes on. This is the ultimate teacher, my guru if you like. No person can be as nothing in life is perfect. Remember perfection original meant complete, well nothing is ever complete. Ecclesiastes teaches this so powerfully. There is no end point, the circle is never complete. We need to live with our senses fully awake and alive to everything around us, including our sixth sense with that spirit alive. Look and see for yourself; experience all life yourself; taste everything, bare witness to the impermanence and ever changing nature of life. Summer is ending, autumn is coming; experience everything that is under the sun and all beyond, but experience it yourself, know reality. Investigate life’s true nature, your true nature, experience it yourself. Take in every breath, for each is fleeting and yet so very precious. Love this life and let the spirit inspire your living.

We are a part of a living tradition. To quote Lizzie one final time “Tradition is not the worship of ashes but the preservation of fire.”

Let us be lit up by that living flame.

Below is a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

Living Spiritually Alive: With Open Hands, Eyes, Hearts & Minds

I will begin with a short extract from an interview of Kurt Vonnegut discussing his book “A Man Without a Country” when it was first published in 2005.

DAVID BRANCACCIO asks Vonnegut : There's a little sweet moment, I've got to say, in a very intense book-- your latest-- in which you're heading out the door and your wife says what are you doing? I think you say-- I'm getting-- I'm going to buy an envelope…What happens then?

KURT VONNEGUT: Oh, she says well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.

I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is, is we're here on Earth to fart around.

And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, we're not supposed to dance at all anymore.

I came across this marvellous little piece the other day. In some ways this attitude is central to my view of what it means to live spiritually alive in this world. The spiritual life for me is about meeting life and each other in this way. It is about openness. It is central to my view of ministry in so many ways. I try to live by invitation, by inviting the other to be who they are. People think that openness is about telling people who you are, being open about who you. I’m not convinced. Openness to me is about inviting others to be who they are with you. Openness is about invitation.

My car has been in the garage for a few days. This meant I have had to make use of taxi’s. I experienced four very different taxi rides. All of the drivers spoke freely and openly with me, all in different ways. My invitation enabled them to do so. They talked a lot about their views of the world, about religion and spirituality. I had a particularly fascinating ride with one between Urmston and Altrincham last Sunday. He had very strong views about religion, formed from his upbringing. I listened with interest and interjected very occasionally. By the end of the ride, just twenty minutes later, we had openly shared so much with each other. His parting conversation went something like this, I have never met a clergy man like you before. I thoroughly enjoyed this conversation. I felt listened to and understood, thank you.

I felt blessed by our open conversation. We were simply meeting one another, but it felt like the spirit was alive and well between us. As I got out of the cab I felt spiritually alive and led the service in the same spirit.

If I have learnt anything about spiritual living I have learnt that the key is openness; the key to spiritual living is to live with open hearts, open minds, open eyes and open hands. These four are spiritual living in practice, which I have come to believe is true essence of religion. Not creed like religion but truly living breathing practising free religion. True religion, intentional spirituality in community, should not only bring us to life as individuals but enable us to live truly alive and awake in this our shared world.

Unitarian minister James Vila Blake (1842-1925) wrote, "Love is the spirit of this church, and service its law. This is our great covenant: To dwell together in peace, To seek the truth in love, And to help one another." I think in many ways this covenant articulates the essence of what it means to come together in love as a worshipping community. It has been adopted by many Unitarian Universalist and Free Christian communities. It expresses beautifully what it means to live in an open, living breathing spiritual community, what free religion ought to be about.

When I am asked what it means to be a Unitarian, the first word that comes to mind is “openness”. It seems to me that we are an open tradition. Now as I have come to believe the essence of openness is humility. We are a humble tradition.

Openness is very much a doing word. It’s not so much that you are open, more that you live openly. To do so religiously, is to be open in four ways. It is to live with open eyes, open hearts and open minds and open hands.

Now to live with these four open eyes, open minds, open hearts and open hands is no easy task. In fact to master them is virtually impossible. The key is to begin and to continue; the key is intentional practice.

To live with open eyes is to see the world as it truly is; to see reality as it really is, warts and all and in its beauty spots too. To live with open eyes is to not turn away from the suffering present in life but also to pay attention to life’s beauty too. To live with open eyes is to see the reality of the whole of life. This is not easy, so often we are tempted to turn away. To live fully connected lives, we need to live with open eyes, to see life with all its blessings and curses.

To live with an open mind is to be able to search for truth and meaning, while maintaining an awareness of the tension between certitude and curiosity. It is the balance of being receptive to what is new and alien, while at the same time holding onto what is most dear. It is to try to know while in the presence of the unknown and the unknowable. This can make others feel uncomfortable and others may try to close an open mind or fill it with their things. To live with an open mind does not mean that we do not discern that we don’t come to conclusions. Quite the opposite actually. It is vital to come to conclusions, so that one can act in the world it’s just that after the decision the openness must be maintained, it is never too late to change our minds. So, keep your minds open but please do be careful what you put in it.

The key to living with a loving and open heart is live with all our senses, including our sixth sense, our soul, open to all the wonders and mystery of life. This too brings its dangers. Living with an open heart exposes us to pain and fear. You see to truly live with an open heart is to allow ourselves to be touched in the most tender of places. This can hurt sometimes. Remember Cupids arrow had to first of all pierce the flesh before it could penetrate the heart, love hurts. To live with an open heart is to follow the great commandment, it is Agape. It is to love others, no matter who they are what they have done, where they have come from, it is to love without condition. It is to follow the Golden Rule. It is to love our neighbour as we would wish to be loved ourselves. This requires love and compassion for ourselves of course, which can at times be the greatest challenge. It is to feel a deep connection with all that is, all that has been and all that will ever be. It is to recognise that in order to feel this connection requires that we share ourselves. To love is to practice forgiveness, over and over again. Practicing living with a loving heart is to live willing to be transformed by what we encounter in our daily lives.

By living with these three open eyes, open minds and open hearts we can then practice living with open hands. Hands that welcome, hands that humbly accept our interconnectedness. Open hands are willing to do what they can do to serve, to play their part in the world. It means committing and recommitting to use our hands, our abilities, in the service of life. With our hands, our actions, we take responsibility for our part in working for what is just, to create the kin-dom of love right here right now, to create a better world, the beloved community. With open hands, we offer what we have and do what we can.

Our open eyes allow us to recognise where we can act in the world, if our minds and our hearts are open. It is these three that tell our open hands where they are needed.

Open hands though are not just about action, they are also about connection and perhaps more importantly humility. Humility is the key to openness and to my eyes the essence of this my chosen Unitarian faith. I say chosen but I’m not sure if I chose it or it chose me. Who knows?

Now humility is a word that is often misunderstood. To be humble is to be at home in our true humanity, to be grounded in our own reality and shared humanity. The key to humility is to recognise that we are a part of something larger than our singular selves.

Humility is not about being meek and mild and bowing and scraping, it is not about being self-deprecating or denigrating. Too often humility is seen in this way, particularly from a religious perspective, as an excuse for suffering and or meekness. To me this is not true humility; true humility is about living with open hands and doing what we can in the world, we can only do this if we live with open hearts, open minds and open eyes and by recognising our common humanity.

I feel that so many of our troubles are caused by our inability to be truly open to one another and to new ideas; our troubles are caused by our arrogance and belief that we know best. Therefore, by not living openly we fail to understand and therefore empathise with each other and we remain trapped by what we think we know. We are too closed down and we need to open up, to one another, to life and to God. We need to be opened up like the Buddhist Monk, arms out with his begging bowl. An image which as Thomas Merton explained “represents not just a right to beg, but openness to the gifts of all human beings as an expression of this interdependence of all beings...Thus when a monk begs from the layman it is not as a selfish person getting something from someone else. He is simply opening himself to his interdependence.” The key is to live openly and of course the key to openness is humility. No one lives apart from anyone else we are all interdependent. Also none of us knows everything, we all see through the glass dimly.

I remember the first time I heard Forrest Church’s assertion that humility and openness are the two keys to religious living, how much this struck me deep inside. I saw the truth in it. There is limitlessness in openness. Who knows how much we can truly change and learn to love if we just stay open, in our hearts and minds and eyes. Who knows what we can do with our loving hands if we live with truly open eyes, open hearts and open minds.

The key to true spiritual living is openness, to live with open eyes, open hearts open minds and open hands. To key is to live with true humility, to see that we are grounded in our shared humanity. The key is to see that we are a part of something far greater than ourselves and that through recognising this we will know the love present in life and begin to bring that love alive, right here right now.

Every day is a day when we can bear witness to a Power Greater than ourselves. We do this when we love one another with open hands, when we see the world with truly open eyes, when we live with minds that are truly open and hearts open to the love waiting to enter and to be poured out onto our world that really needs it.

I was reminded of this last Sunday morning on that taxi journey between Urmston and Altrincham. What a beautiful gift that was. Who knows it may have opened the eyes, the heart, the mind and the hands of the taxi driver who had never met a clergy man quite like me before. We shared a journey, where we lived spiritually alive.

I believe it is our task to live truly open lives. This is real spiritual living, this is true religion. I believe it is our task to bring love alive, through our openness. It is our task to allow God to incarnate through our lives. To do so we need to live with open eyes, open minds, open hearts and open hands.

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