Tell me your story and I will tell you mine: Good speech, Godsibb and Gossip

Last Monday 2^nd February was “Groundhog Day”. Sorry, but it is bad news, “Punxsutawney Phil” saw his shadow. This means 6 more weeks of winter. Do not worry this is Pennsylvania, so it may not apply to we in the North West of England. We shall see.

Last Monday morning was a bit like Groundhog Day the movie as I went through many usual Monday activities. There was a slight twist as I met with a couple who are getting married at Dunham Road. We talked through the service, which is fairly traditional with one or two twists, just to make it personal. It was a wonderful conversation, getting to know these two wonderful people, there was much humour shared. I also went through one or two or my usual Monday rituals. After catching up with emails and posting my blog etc I took Molly out into Altrincham and through to the park. On the way Molly insisted on calling into Café Nero. She loves the place and obviously knows I need a coffee before walking round the park. I had a fascinating conversation with the manager their Keiran. He is a breeder of exotic fish, a growing business for him. He told me he has 1,000 fish tanks now. He also tried to play a trick on me telling me they were having a minutes silence. I know he is a joker so I didn’t fall for it. I told him that we do not have a minutes silence for “Groundhog Day”. We then talked about “Groundhog Day”. He expressed a hope that winter would soon be over.

We then headed to the park and saw the same people I often see when I go there. We nod and say hello and sometimes talk. I got into a conversation with a woman who is there every day and who I rarely get into a conversation with. Whenever we do it is as if we are speaking for the first time, symptomatic of something I am growing familiar with. She told me about her family, her son and grandchildren, all high achievers. We talked about her dog who is the same breed and as my sister’s dog Brian. She then started calling Molly Brian and then she wandered off after I had given her dog and Molly a treat. By the way we also talked about the weather and the desire for Spring. I told her it was “Groundhog Day” , at which point she looked at me like I was mad. As we continued to wander I got chatting to a man and his dog. We always talk when we meet one another. He has a grand dog named Ruby who is a labradoodle. We chatted about our dogs and the weather. I then said it is “Groundhog Day” and we will find out if winter is ending or whether we have six more weeks of it. I then said but it doesn’t really apply as we don’t live in Pennsylvania. He told me his parents used to live there and the winters were never too bad, except for a couple of weeks. They now live in Quebec he told me where the winters are far more extreme. He then showed me a conversation he had with his mother talking about the weather. He asked me if I was always there at this time and I said I come at varied times. I chuckled as I walked off and thought well maybe it isn’t Groundhog Day.

On the way home I bumped into a couple of friends. Both of whom told me about concerns for friends who are being treated for cancer. One seems hopeful the other not so much. I have had several such conversations all week long. Some of which sound like a long winter ahead and others showing signs of spring.

I have been thinking of conversations all week long. Conversations and how our lives are made up of the stories we tell. The stories we tell about ourselves and our lives. On Wednesday I conducted the funeral of Jim Hill. The Hill family have been a part of the Queens Road congregation for several generations. Afterwards I talked with folk who I have known for many years now. We shared our stories and our concerns I also saw several children whose Child blessing service I have conducted. I thought of their stories and their familys stories. I also remembered Alison, Jim’s sister telling the story, on a Zoom service during Covid, when we were joined by Rev Peter Godfrey who had been minister to the congregation in 1950’s and 60’s. I will never forget the delight in her voice and on her face as she saw Peter and reminded him that she was the first child he had Baptised. This is one of those stories I love to tell. The circle of life and of love.

Another friend told me of her ex-partner had being diagnosed with cancer this week. This brought me back to the formation story that led me into ministry. A story of sorrow that I have to tell when folk ask me why I became a minister. He and his family have been in my heart and prayers ever since.

The stories of live. Stories of love, of life and of death. The circle of life.

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. I was reminded this week of a character I created during “lockdown” Cap’N Dan. Everyday I told a classic tale and recorded it on camera. Many people watched the stories, both young and old. The stories helped people through a difficult time, both children and adults. A friend told me that the stories both entertained and fed both him and his children. His children would probably be embarrassed now, as they are 5 or 6 years older. That said these stories are a part of their life. They helped to both feed and connect them and others.

Our lives are made up of stories.

The author Phillip Pulman has said of stories “After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” I would suggest that in some ways stories give us nourishment, shelter and companionship in a none material sense.

Anthony DeMello wrote...

The Master gave his teaching in parables and stories, which his disciples listened to with pleasure — and occasional frustration, for they longed for something deeper.

The Master was unmoved. To all their objections he would say, "You have yet to understand, my dears, that the shortest distance between a human being and Truth is a story."

We all have our stories and no doubt those that know us have stories to tell about us. It’s interesting that when a person tells a story about you their perception and memory will reveal something of how they see you and know you. It reveals as much about the storyteller as the person they are telling the story about.

I have been thinking of stories, the ones we share when we meet and speak with each other. Whether they be strangers, close friends and or folk you see from time to time. I wonder what stories they will tell of us.

It matters the stories we tell of one another. We all speak of one another we share our tales. It matters the tales that we tell. The words we share. The way we gossip about one another and life.

Gossip is one of those words that has changed in meaning over time. There can be good gossip and bad gossip. It not so much the way we speak about one another but it’s intent, it’s meaning. It matters how we speak about others and how we listen to what others say to us about people. Malicious gossip can be very destructive. That said sharing concern for others and singing their praises can add to the loving creation.

The word “gossip” is derived from words for God and sibling. It originally meant “akin to God”. “God-Sibb” describing a person you were connected to in spiritual kinship, either a sponsor or God parent. When we share stories of one another in such a spirit we are connecting together in shared love and concern. I have shared a week of being engaged mostly in “God-Sibb”, although not always I have occasionally spoken unskilfully, not from this spirit.

Like a lot of words sadly the word gossip only has negative connotations. In fact, it means the exact opposite to its original meaning. It seems more akin to separation than connection. Gossip as we understand it these days is often deeply destructive.

The way we speak with and of one another can connect us, but it can also separate us; words are incredibly powerful things. Words can begin to bring deep healing or can be deeply destructive. What matters is the intention behind them. What seems to matter is the condition of our heart and soul as we speak what we must speak. It is the meaning behind the words that seems to matter the most.

Words are powerful they can be either destructive or creative. Perhaps an example of “words” creative power comes at the beginning of John’s Gospel and the following lines:

'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God.
All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.'

According to John the spoken word can literally create life, in fact all life. Now of course in the original Greek, which these opening words were written in, the word for “Word” was “Logos”, which roughly translated actually does not mean merely a “word,” but also “speech,” “principle,” “meaning” or “thought.” In Greek philosophy, it is also referred to as Divine Reason or the Mind of God. So, it could mean God speaking life into being, linking it to the first verses from Genesis when God is said to have breathed life into being, remembering always that he saw this creation as “Good”. So “word” here means, in my view at least, that life is the meaning coming into being and Jesus is the example of this in human form. An example we can all aspire to. For we can all incarnate Love, we can all be a part of the Divine creation. It begins in our words and how we say these words for they are an expression of our meaning. It also begins in how we listen to others. Our ability for each to share, an open loving invitation. This is Divine activity. This space between us is the Kin-dom of Love. Conversation can be a Divine activity; the sharing of stories can be Divine activity, if engaged in in a loving spirit.

When we speak we are not merely flapping our lips, vibrating air we are engaged in Divine activity we are creating or destroying life. It is the same with listening. If we listen with ears of heart we are creating sacred space, thus creating the Kin-dom of Love.

So, it is not just about what we say, the words we use, but the meaning behind them. This brings a whole deeper meaning to the phrase “The word (Logos, meaning the Meaning), became flesh and dwelt amongst us.” We embody our meaning through the words we use and how we use these words.

What we say and the meaning behind our language really matters. Our words are our meaning. It is not just about the words we use, but the meaning behind them. It can be deeply creative or destructive.

Ursula K Le Guin the great 20^th century novelist wrote:

“Words are events, they do things, change things. They transform both speaker and hearer; they feed energy back and forth and amplify it. They feed understanding or emotion back and forth and amplify it,”

Words express our meaning and they amplify the meaning of our society and culture. This is why the meaning of words change over time. Remember Logos meant both word and meaning and yet in the English translation of the Bible it is always translated as word and not meaning.

It matters the words we use and the meaning behind them. It matters how we engage with one another. It matters the conversations that we have with each other and ourselves. It matters the stories we tell of one another and of life. It matters.

The way we speak with and of one another can connect us, but it can also separate us; words are incredibly powerful things. Words can begin to bring deep healing or can be deeply destructive. What matters is the intention behind them. What matters is the condition of our heart and soul as we speak what we must speak. It is the meaning behind the words that seems to matter the most. Do we speak as siblings that connect or enemies that separate.

It matters you know, it really does.

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

Spring is Coming: For Hope is Always Sprouting

“Psalm 23 for This Moment” by Kevin Tarsa Psalm 23 re-cast in the language of Love

May I remember
in this tender moment
that Love is my guide,
always,
shepherding me toward ways of openness and compassion.

I have what I need, really,
with Love at my side,
above me, below me, in front of me, behind me,
inside every cell of me,
Love infused everywhere!

Just when the weight of the world I inhabit
threatens to drop me in place
and press my hope down into the ground beneath me
Love invites me to rest for a gentle while,
and leads the center of my soul to the quiet, still,
restoring waters nearby that,
somehow,
I had not noticed.

And so, Love,
quietly,
sets me once again on its tender and demanding path.

Even when the walls close around me
and the cries of death echo through untold corners,
gripping my heart with fear and sadness,
I know...
I know
that all will be well,
that I will be well,
when Love whispers
near to me,
glints at the corner of my eye,
rests with gentle and persistent invitation upon my shoulders.

Yes, Love blesses me,
Even as the sources and symbols of my pain look on.
Love blesses me from its infinite well,
And I turn
and notice...
that goodness and kindness and grace,
follow me everywhere,
everywhere I go.

I live in a house of Love,
Love that will not let me go.

I live in a house of love,
And always will.

A rather lovely re-casting of the 23rd Psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd”

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!

So wrote Robert Browning in his poem “Home Thoughts, from Abroad” published in 1845.

My friend pointed out that this was the song I could hear as I sat in silent meditation with others as the sun came up on Tuesday morning. It was the first time I had heard the bird song for a while. I thought to myself that it was perhaps a sign of Spring that is beckoning, that is singing. I am pleased I was able to hear it.

It has felt like a long winter and I yearn for spring. I have had some health issues, which is rare for me and there has been much grief. Every week it seems someone has left the circle of life. It has weighed heavy at times. So, it was beautiful to hear the song of the thrush that cold Tuesday morning. It reminded me that all is well, that the song of life is always singing.

I was full of song myself that morning as I had enjoyed a wonderful night singing with the choir I have joined. Despite the weather there was a sense of spring about to come. Despite the troubles in the world around me and the wider world, there was a sense of Hope and renewal within me.

“In the spring time of the year, silver buds of hope appear.”

Imbolc Sunday 1st of February is traditionally considered the beginning of Spring. There are signs all around us. Monday 2nd of February is “Candlemass”, officially the end of the Christmas Season. Traditionally this was always the end of Christmas and not Epiphany, the 12th day of Christmas. 

There have been other signs of hope too this week, suggesting the end of winter and the beginning of a new spring. Wednesday was the most beautiful day, the weather wasn’t so bad either. There are new shoots coming through. The snow drops are everywhere. The snowdrop is considered a symbol of hope. Legend has it that they appeared as such after Adam and Even were expelled from Eden. Eve was about to give up hope that the winter would never end, but an angel appeared and transformed some snowflakes into the flower snowdrop, showing that the winter will eventually come to an end. The flower is linked to the purification associated with “Candlemass” as the old rhyme goes:

“The Snowdrop, in purest white array, first rears her head in “Candlemass” day.

The 2nd of February is also “Groundhog Day” another sign of the measure of how long the winter is going to be. I will keep my eye out to see if the Groundhog sees his shadow. If it does it means six more weeks of winter. If not then spring is here. Not scientific I know, but a nice bit of mid-winter fun. If you have never seen the film, I strongly recommend it. It is one of most spiritual ever made as it symbolises the cycle of life and the possibility of redemption. There is always possibility, there is endless hope.

3rd of February is “Elmo’s” birthday, that simple and loveable character from Sesame Street. I love Elmo’s simple philosophy of life. As he says “Elmo thinks it’s important to be kind because if you’re kind to somebody, then they’ll be kind to somebody, and it goes on and on and on.” We should all be more like Elmo. The world needs more of us to plant such seeds everywhere we go.

There are many flowers and buds appearing and I have seen a few gifts of flowers too. Last Sunday when I arrived at Queens Road there was a beautiful array of tulips left in a vase. No one seemed to know who had left them there. I did not notice at first a simple note that was left with them. I only noticed it when I mentioned them as the service began. The note read “For Derek A Special Man who was loved by all who knew him”. The flowers were left by Gwyneth Hare who runs the dance school at Queens Road.

I have been thinking a lot of Derek this week. He meant so much to the wider Urmston community as well as his family and we at Queens Road. Derek had a wonderful friendly and natural welcoming quality. The kind of person who put you at ease. We talked many times over the years and he could not have been more supportive and or encouraging of me and my ministry. The last time we spoke one to one he thanked me for my worship. What he said was that it always felt relatable, that it spoke to him personally. That the stories I told had the capacity to reach into the heart. He was helping and encouraging me right to end. He was the kind of person that brought hope in the winter time. Just like the words of his favourite hymn “And I’ll bring you hope, when hope is hard to find and I’ll bring a song of love and a rose in the winter time.”

I recently conducted the funeral of a friend, Karla. Someone I have known 20 years. A wonderful woman who like Derek was a symbol of hope, love and service. I went to see her at the hospice the night before she died, just as I had seen Derek the day before he died. I did not know that this would be their final night when I saw them. My friend had called me to see her to make plans for her funeral, although before we discussed things she has one or two important matters to attend to for others. She didn’t want to leave any loose ends before she died. Her service was deeply moving and spoke of her spirit. Yes, she gave so much to many, whilst also enjoying her life to the fullest. She was a woman of great courage and an inspiration to many. Several of the women that she helped over the years will pass on her legacy to many more. They will continue to plant the seeds of hope that she helped to bring to flower in them.

Karla and Derek will not get to see this Spring time, but the seeds that they shared in their time will be planted and many of them will grow.

“Will they blossom? Will they grow? We who plant the seed must know.”

We never know the impact that we make upon the lives of others. We can begin chain of reactions in the hearts and minds of others. That is why I say everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every interaction. It may not take seed immediately. It may not go anywhere, but some will and in time.

These later days of winter will eventually turn to spring, even if the groundhog claims we have six more weeks, eventually it will turn to spring and the seeds we plant will grow. Look around you for the seeds of hope that will become the new shoots all around us. Hope springs eternal and we do not seem too far from spring. The seeds are there planted beneath the earth, waiting to give birth.

Maybe there are lessons that we can learn from the patience of seeds. They lay there buried, surrendered to the process that is yet to come, when they will flower and flourish for all to share. Like those seeds there is so much buried within us waiting to be born, maybe not today but some day. There are signs of hope though, may we nurture them.

This brings to mind a favourite little gem I first came across a few years ago it is taken from “Dwellings. A Spiritual History of the Living World” by Linda Hogan,

"Seed. There are so many beginnings. In Japan, I recall, there were wildflowers that grew in the far, cool region of mountains. The bricks of Hiroshima, down below, were formed of clay from these mountains, and so the walls of houses and shops held the dormant trumpet flower seeds. But after one group of humans killed another with the explosive power of life’s smallest elements split wide apart, the mountain flowers began to grow. Out of destruction and bomb heat and the falling of walls, the seeds opened up and grew. What a horrible beauty, the world going its own way, growing without us. But perhaps this, too, speaks of survival, of hope beyond our time."

Yes, there are seeds of hope waiting to be born and there are shoots already showing. There are many dark days to come through, of course there are, but there is hope beyond this time, in the not too distant future. The Hope has to be there growing in our hearts and souls or we won’t plant those seeds. It does not mean there is not horror and destruction in our lives now, but nor does that horror in the present moment stop us seeing that there is goodness in our time and place. There is so much goodness and amazing work going on all around us. Look for the examples. Look at those who give their lives for others, those who live from their hearts.

“Tender shoots thirst for the sun, surging with each day begun. Banish darkness, hate and fear; golden fruit will soon appear. Banish darkness, hate and fear; golden fruit will soon appear.

There is great tragedy in life, there is hate and suffering, but that is not all that there is. There is a great deal of quiet goodness, which we rarely celebrate, it certainly gets little publicity. As they say they rarely print the good news. Why are only negative things called radical, what about radical decency, radical goodness, even radical ok-ness. You know I once heard a wonderful speech on “radical ok-ness” It was given by the father of the bride at my nephew Joe’s wedding. I remember when I heard it how it caught me in that place deep in the soul of me. I remember him talking about the joys and sorrows of life and the pains and struggles we all go through and then he talked about an abiding love that is present in life that can hold us and sustain us in all of this. He named it “Radical Ok-ness”. This phrase really caught the heart of me and awakened the soul of me. I thought yes that’s it and in my mind I began to sing a song I once heard based on words by Julian of Norwich, the words were “All will be well, all will be well, all manner of things, they will be well.”

By the way the woman who wrote that song Meg Barnhouse died in the last week or so. She was a singer song writer and a Unitarian Universalist minister. I first heard the song at Summer School 16 years ago. It was played by Jean Mason to some young people who were struggling with anxiety. There was Jean passing on love, giving from her heart to others. Another person who gave so much to others and who left a beautiful legacy behind. That moment has stayed with me all these years, although Jean sadly died many years ago.

All will be well by Meg Barnhouse

It is easy to look at the world through eyes of despair and say that it is not ok, there is something rotten in life. There is much that is not ok. I am sure we could all make a long list of all that is wrong with life and particularly humanity. So yes it is easy to say that nothing is ok; it is easy to fall into the Hobbesian nightmare and believe has he said “And the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short” or in the words of the confession in the Book of common Prayer that “there is no health in us”. Human beings do some terrible things to one another and yet on the whole what I see is goodness and in the end goodness seems to prevail. I do see an ok-ness in life, when we choose it. When we bring it to life. This begins I believe by first of all seeing this, by bearing witness to this ok-ness. I suspect that radical ok-ness is about bringing this goodness to life, in our very lives. When we do we bring the “Kin-dom” of Love to life. I see this every day all around me in the lives of ordinary people living their lives.

We need to live in and through hope, we need to be hope, we need to say yes to life. Just because there are problems and suffering in life it does not mean we should turn away from life and lose all hope, make despair the orientation of our heart. What kills us is cynicism, giving up on the possibility of what we can make things in life.

A lack of cynicism is something I saw so powerfully in both my friend Karla and Derek, they lived with an enthusiasm for life and others. Yes, they had lived through challenges and troubles, but both lived in and by hope and certainly without cynicism.

We need to say yes to life, to possibility, to the Hope in our hearts. We need to keep on planting seeds. Let us follow the example of those who lived by and through hope. For hope is, as Elizabeth Barrette wrote in “Origami Emotion”

“Origami Emotion” by Elizabeth Barrette

Hope is
Folding paper cranes
Even when your hands get cramped
And your eyes tired,
Working past blisters and paper cuts,
Simply because something in you
Insists on
Opening its wings.

Yes, it’s a long cold winter and we are not through it yet. That said there are signs of hope all around us and there is something beautiful within us, waiting to be born, to be given birth to, in our hearts and hearths. Let us nurture them and share them with each other, encourage each other to do so. Let us become symbols of hope to one another. Just like the song thrush I heard on Tuesday morning, or the simple gifts of Tulips left on the table at Queens Road, or the loving example of Derek and Karla and or the natural beauty waiting to come alive all around us. Let us live by the spirit of hope, let us plant those seeds. It matters you know it really does. For everything is sacred, everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every word and every deed.

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

Snowdrops of Hope: Journeying from Winter to Spring

I’m going to begin with a re-telling of a classic tale by Aesop. This version approaches the story from an entirely different angle, offering an alternative perspective. It is the story of “The Hare and the Tortoise”

Is it tortus or tore toys? I think it was Lewis Carol who said “It was the tortus that taught us”

“The Hare and the Tortoise”

Once upon a time there was a hare and a tortoise. The hare liked to run and jump and roll in the flowers. The tortoise stuck to the ground looking always to the front, never to the left, never to the right.

One day the tortoise began to argue with the hare.

"You have no direction. You are aimless. You are wasting your life," the tortoise said. The hare chewed on a dandelion to see what it was like.

"Whereas I on the other claw," the tortoise continued, "have purpose. I have drive. I have ambition." The hare began doing backward somersaults.

"And I can prove it!" the tortoise shouted, getting angry. "We will race through the wood to the river. The first one onto the bridge is the winner!"

And so that's how the race began. All the other animals gathered to watch and the crow, who was a bird and could fly, agreed to be the invigilator. When all was ready the squirrel opened a nut as a starting signal.

"Crack!" The race was on! The hare was into the wood in a couple of bounds. The tortoise moved slowly forward looking always to the front, never to the left, never to the right.

The hare ran halfway through the wood. Then the hare stopped to watch a cobweb dancing in a patch of sunlight. The sound of music drifted by on the breeze. The hare hopped off to investigate. The hare loved music. Music always reminded the hare of food. The hare began looking for some baby grass shoots to nibble. The tortoise continued, always looking to the front, never to the left, never to the right.

The hare found an old, hollow log covered in toadstools. It made a great hide away and for a while the hare hid in it imagining the fox was outside. After that it felt good to jump and stretch, stretch and jump, and jump some more.

The tortoise plodded on looking straight ahead. To the left there was a wild raspberry bush so heavy with fruit that its top was brushing the ground. To the right a fledgling fell from its nest to lie helpless caught in some undergrowth. The tortoise noticed neither.

After the jumping and stretching the hare felt hot and thirsty. So the hare ran to the river and had a drink. Then finding a shady spot the hare settled down for a nap.

The tortoise left the wood and neared the bridge, looking never to the left and never to the right. The tortoise reached the bridge, looking never to the left and never to the right. The hare woke up. The tortoise crawled onto the bridge, triumphant. The crow reported to the animals at the starting line that the tortoise had won. Some of them cheered and then they all went about their business.

When it got dark and there was no one to see the hare climbed up carefully from under the bridge and went home. The moon was very beautiful.

Now while it is certainly is true that the tortoise won the race...which one truly experienced the journey? Sometimes it’s nice to turn truth upside down and to look at things from an entirely different angle.

I went for a walk with a friend and our dogs down to Dunham Massey on Monday. There were a few obstacles thrown in our way, that seemed to be blocking us, but we got there in the end. It was much needed; it was lovely to walk and talk side by side. It is one of my great pleasures to saunter with another, talking and listening and sharing the natural beauty, just being alive to everything. We grew up in the same part of the world and at the same time, so there were many things to share. We talked about our lives, as well as our own spiritual journey’s. There was much laughter too. It was lovely and we passed many folk along the way. It was also interesting to see the two dogs personalities at play. Molly always curious and into discovering new things, Holly, my friends dog, not really moving from her side. We were deep in conversation when suddenly in front of us was an unexpected sight. There was a couple with what turned out to be six white ferrets. Molly was fascinated and wanted to have a good sniff and look, she did not bark, she was just curious. Thankfully neither of them were “Ferret-legging”, not something that you would expect to see in Cheshire, only in Yorkshire. We talked with them for a while and then journeyed on. We sauntered on round and round. It was just what I needed, I think we both needed it, before returning to our respective lives.

I love to journey with others, you never know what will open up to you in a day. I have found the key is not so much where you go, but how you journey and of course with who. Remembering of course journey means what you do, or where you travel in one day. It is derived from the Latin word "diarnum" meaning daily portion from which the old French word "jornee" which meant a day’s work or a day's travel, is derived. I love this truth, it makes me smile broadly. We all live one day at a time, this is the beautiful journey of life; beautiful but sometimes heartbreakingly painful. You just don’t know what you are stepping into when you journey out each day. Monday was a beautiful journey. As I reflected that evening I was taken on many journey’s throughout my life; I was connected and reconnected to many days and many folk I have journeyed with throughout my life. It connected my present to the past and filled my heart with loving hope of the journeys I will wander on in the future. It brought, faith, hope and above all love alive in me, the three that call me out each day.

Monday was of course 3rd February, which is a special day on the Calendar. Do you know what special day it was? Well Monday was “Elmo’s” Day. Elmo is a wonderfully and loving character from Sesame Street, we should all be more like Elmo. Elmo is probably best know for the following little aphorism: “Elmo thinks it’s important to be kind because if you’re kind to somebody, then they’ll be kind to somebody, and it goes on and on and on.”

Surely this is how each of us ought journey on with one another. Might sound a bit radical in this day an age, well so be it. Be kind, be loving, be respectful, acknowledge the Divine within each and every person you meet, all life that you greet. In so doing you will make life a beautiful journey. What are you going to do with the day?

Last weekend was Imbolc, St Brigid’s Day, Candlemass and of course Groundhog Day. This is considered the beginning of Spring. I have certainly been seeing many snowdrops, particularly around the great trees. I love how these tiny, delicate little flowers stand out at the base of these enormous trees. We have journeyed through another winter, or so it seems. The Groundhog it seems disagrees. Sadly. bad news on the Punxsutawney Phil front, the groundhog, he saw his shadow. This means, according to the tradition, six more weeks of winter. So, winter might be a little longer this year.

Despite this as we walked round Dunham, it felt like Spring was in the air and those snowdrops were beautiful silver buds of hope. The snow drops are everywhere. The snowdrop is considered a symbol of hope. Legend has it that they appeared as such after Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden. Eve was about to give up hope that the winter would never end, but an angel appeared and transformed some snowflakes into the flower the snowdrop, showing that the winter will eventually come to an end. The flower is linked to the purification associated with “Candlemass” as the old rhyme goes:

“The Snowdrop, in purest white array, first rears her head in “Candlemass” day.

End of winter or not, we get to journey. We journey on together and we journey on in hope. I have certainly felt, faith, hope and above all love in my heart, despite some of the troubles of life, being heavy on my heart.

I was part of a wonderful celebration of 50 years of recovery taking place in the small schoolroom at the chapel. It brought to my mind so many lives I have journeyed with these past few years. It brought to my heart thoughts of those who came before me and those who will journey on day by day. So much faith and hope and above all love.

There are times when we have to trudge as we journey, when we have to hanker down, but we must not do so facing the ground. The word trudge originally meant to walk in snow shoes, it is a word of Scandinavian origin, it depicts labour and a faith and hope and love to keep on going, this is needed in the winter months of course. We do not need to do so with our heads to the ground. We can also saunter, a word of disputed origin, with a both a joyful and an image that depicts a holy journey. Some say that travellers to the holy land were on a saunter, who knows. The key is to journey, but to do so taking in all of life, to do so joyfully, in wonderful company, taking in all of life. You will be amazed by what you see.

Remember to journey is what we do in a day. Sometimes the biggest mistake we make is that we continue journeying on, head down, not looking all around us, too focused on a perceived goal. This is due I am sure to the fear that if we don’t keep on moving, we might get lost or that our troubles might catch up with us. I do not believe that this is healthy. In many ways by just marching on ever forward we can become completely lost, in the sense that we lose who we are at the core of ourselves, that sense of belonging here in life, as we are, wanted, needed and loved.

These thoughts bring to mind the beautiful poem “Lost” by David Wagoner.

“Lost”

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

by David Wagoner

It is so vital to pause to take in the life we lead to enjoy this life. To be the hare and not the tortoise.

No one is ever truly lost, provided you maintain a faith in life and love.

It matters what sustains us, what holds us through life, what calls us out to journey on. What daily bread we take. The reason the rich young man could not follow Jesus was that his faith, his love was in finite things. A repeated message of the Gospels is that you cannot serve two masters. Sometimes our master is of course some perceived goal, some place we feel we must get to, so much so that we don’t get to experience all that is life, we fail to live by love and eventually lose all faith and hope, this is no way to live.

Throughout our journeys’ we pass through many stages of our lives and looking back no doubt we can see these staging posts. I was reflecting on this after my walk with my friend on Monday. I was reliving so many staging posts and so many folk I have both sauntered and trudged side by side with, as I have journeyed on. It has filled my heart with love all week long.

We folk wandering around the parks are no different to those characters from the ancient stories and their many great examples of the different types of journeys, pilgrimages and Odyssey’s that we may undertake. In his meditation “The Spiritual Journey” David O Rankin names a few who have walked courageously through theirs. Stating:

“It is Moses leading the Jews through the desert of Sinai, and Jesus enduring the temptation in the wilderness of Israel, and Buddha seeking enlightenment along the dusty roads of India.

It is the glorious voyage of Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey, the narrow paths through the circles of hell in Dante’s Inferno, and the confessions of the travellers in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.

It is the pilgrims sailing on the Mayflower, the settlers moving westward, being On the Road with Jack Kerouac, and spinning through a black hole in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey”

We are all of us pilgrims on the sacred journey that is life and like so many of the more famous ones we think we have to go someplace else to discover our own Nirvana or to build the New Jerusalem. Just as the pilgrims on the Mayflower did in the seventeenth century. They believed that they had to travel a great distance to a new land to create their heaven on earth. They were focused on some perceived destination. I have discovered that this is not necessary. In fact in so doing you may just fail to experience the gift that is this life. You do not have to travel great distances to experience the beautiful journey and you do not need to travel great distances to build the New Jerusalem, it must be here, in our own hearts or nowhere. The “Kin-dom” of Love has to be built here or nowhere.

I suspect it’s the same about finding ourselves once again when we feel lost. Just be here, you are not lost. Look around and look within you and listen to that voice within and that of those you journey with. Don’t walk on, head down, look up at life all around you, be awake. Look for the light that shines bright, that spark of the Divine that is within everything. That which awakens the sense of my senses, and enables us to journey on. That which allows us to feel at home wherever our feet are planted. That Kin-dom of Love, within me, within each of us and within everything.

Let love be our navigator it will always lead us home, to the place where we belong.

Enjoy the gift that is the beautiful journey, where ever it may lead.

Enjoy the journey, it is the gift, this day.

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

Groundhog Day: A Perfect Allegory of the Spiritual Journey

So here we stand at the beginning of another year. We have passed through the cycle of life, one more time. Much is as it was and some things have changed. Mostly though is very much as it was, as it always is. This the journey that is life. The truth is we don’t actually go anywhere, we just move around the circle of life. That said we get the greatest gift of all. We get life. We get to journey on, experiencing life in all its beauty and sometimes horror. We get to live the spiritual journey too, which of course is not a journey of distance, but of experience, dare I say depth.

As good old Wendell Berry so beautifully put it

“And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our own feet, and learn to be at home.”

This is the mythos that the great stories all seem to tell. Just think of Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” after her great adventure she learned to be at home in Kansas. She needed the adventure in order to truly understand the treasure she already possessed. She had to go on the journey of change and then return home with treasure to share.

No doubt we have been repeating some similar rituals and practices these last few days as we have once again celebrated Christmas. Much will have been the same, but some things will have been different. Maybe they have been experienced differently. Eistein famously said that insanity is repeating the same behaviour and expecting a different result. There is truth in this wisdom, but not the whole truth. For actual in some ways this is what the spiritual life, the life of faith is actually about. It is in the repetition of the same activity that change happens, sometimes unexpectedly. So yes Eistein is right, it is the definition of insanity, but also of hope.

I spend a lot of my life wandering around Altrincham, bumping into people and passing others in the street. Often seeing the same people in the same places and often have similar conversations. This is the beautiful gift of the ordinary, sometimes it reveals pots of gold. Now some might think this dull, but it is not. Yes it is “Groundhog Day”, but this is a beautiful thing, it is not in the least bit negative.

I watched the film “Groundhog Day” the other day. It is a favourite of mine. It is set in the deepest dark of winter. I am speaking of it a little early, for “Groundhog Day” is not until the 2nd of February, not that it is something that we mark in Britain. Here, depending on our spiritual tradition we may well mark Candlemass, Imbolc or St Brigid’s Day.

Groundhog Day began as a pagan festival. It falls in the dead of winter, flanked equally on either side by the winter solstice and the spring equinox. According to folklore if the groundhog sees his shadow on this day there will be six more weeks of snow. So, the hope is that he does not see his shadow and that winter will soon be over.

It is not the legend of Groundhog Day that really interests me, more the film that bares the same name. It is one of my favourites and may well be one of the most spiritual ever made. That sounds like quite a bold statement for what is, on the surface at least, a Hollywood romantic comedy.

“Groundhog Day” is a tale of hope, of the possibility of transformation. That by somehow repeating the same day over and over again, somehow in this process change occurs, different results do in fact come. It tells the story of a self centred weatherman named Phil. At the beginning of the film he is sent on his annual excursion to Punxsutawney Pennsylvania, to record the thrilling moment when Phil the Groundhog makes his annual winter trek into sunlight in search of the shadowy predictor for the coming weeks. Phil ( the weatherman) hates the fact that he has to be there and treats everyone he meets in “the hick town”, with disdain. The film crew cannot get out of the town as the weather takes a turn for the worst. So, they have to spend another night in the town

Phil awakens the next morning to the same song he heard the morning before “I Got you Babe” by Sonny and Cher, he is to awaken to this every morning as “Groundhog Day” is repeated over and over again for days, weeks, months, years. Every day is the second of February; every day is the same day; every day he is offered the opportunity to experience that same Groundhog Day over and over again, running into the same people, having the same encounters. And yet within those very same limitations he is offered infinite choices. Where he can eat, how he can respond to each encounter, who he can hurt and who he can help. He is offered the opportunity to grow and to change every single day; he is offered the opportunity to become the man he wants to be, every single day. He can be the bad guy or the good guy, the funny guy, the happy guy, the free guy or the trapped guy, the suicidal guy. He is offered the chance to change which he begins to do, as he learns from his mistakes. He learns that he cannot control all that is going on around him and that happiness can only be found by truly living in what is there, the sacred moment. His inspiration is his producer Rita (played by Andie Mcdowell) she is the opposite of Phil, good hearted and at peace with herself. Phil falls in love with who Rita is, he awakens to the longing to be a person worthy of her love and he begins to allow himself to be that person. Each day is repeated and in the end he gets very subtly different results.

Now isn’t this one of those universal messages found within the mythos’ of the great faiths. That love can transform even the most self centred of hearts that we can all aspire to be the best that we can be. That hope can be found in total despair and that you do not need to seek some special place, it is found in the ordinary everyday things of life.

So could it be that this Hollywood Romantic comedy is the most “spiritual” ever made. Well Harold Ramis the films co-writer and director said that religious leaders and writers continually contacted him over the years claiming that “Groundhog Day” is an allegory of their traditions key messages. Buddhist have claimed that it illustrates their notion of Samsara, the continuing cycle of re-birth. Phil (The weatherman) is seen as the Bohisattva who keeps on being sent back into the world in order to save it, he never seems to reach enlightenment and has to keep on going through the daily trials in order to help others.

Jewish observers have noted that Phil keeps on being sent back into the world to perform Mitzvah’s (good deeds). The story is not really about his individual salvation and more about perfecting the whole world.

Still others have claimed Christian and Pagan interpretations. It has been suggested that the groundhog symbolises re-birth and the hope of renewal at Easter or spring. It is worth remembering that the 2nd of February is Imbolc and Candlemass, key festivals in both traditions. The story is also a classic redemption tale, very much like a Christmas Carol. Phil the weatherman is just another Mr Scrooge. Infact Bill Murray himself once played a modern day version in the film “Scrooged”.

Groundhog Day is a favourite film of mine, if you haven’t seen it I heartily recommend it to you it will warm you through on a cold winters night. It is a film about hope; it is a film about the possibility of change and transformation. That by repeating the same ordinary activities, we can grow and change. Now I know some call this insanity, but I prefer to call it hope; hope in the possibility of change.

I am going to leave the last words to Bill Murray’s character Phil. Words he eventually said while signing off at the end of his final broadcast. Words of hope, of what might be. Words uttered not knowing that the next morning everything would change, for finally Groundhog Day had ended, it was February the 3rd.

Phil said: “When Chechov saw the long winter, it was a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope; and yet we know winter’s only one more step in the cycle. And standing among the people of Punxsutawney basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.

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

Snowdrops of Hope Awaken at the Beginning of February

Last Saturday Sue spent time with her women’s circle, on Zoom of course not in person. It is a key aspect of her personal spiritual practice. As a result, on Sunday, she made a whole load “St Brigid’s” crosses. Now traditionally these are green, but she made a blue for me, our colour. Little Charlie, the dog, even got one to chew on. As I left for work on Monday morning, wondering what I might explore in worship this week, she suggested I might want to buy a bunch of daffodils to add to it and brighten up my vestry. Now this may surprise some folk, but I do listen to her and did as suggested.

The “Brigid’s Cross” is a small cross woven from rushes, in this case it was coloured straws. It has four arms and woven into a square in the middle. Last Monday 1^st of February was “St Brigid’s Day” one of the patron saints of Ireland. This festival was formerly the Pagan festival Imbolc and marked the beginning of Spring. Many still celebrate it this way. The Goddess Brigid was originally one of the “Tuatha De Danann” and was adopted by The Christians in Ireland.

So last Monday was traditionally considered the beginning of Spring, there have been some signs of this, although the weather is protesting. Last Tuesday 2^nd of February was officially the end of the Christmas Season with Candlemass. Traditionally this was always the end of Christmas and not Epiphany, the 12^th day of Christmas. The Church of England actually announced that people could keep their decorations up until Candlemass this year in an attempt to keep out the January blues. We are living through unprecedented times after all and I know an awful lot of folk were grateful for this.

There was some sadness in this land as we heard the news that Captain Sir Tom Moor had sadly died. Now he certainly was wonderful symbol of hope in deeply challenging times and I am sure that his spirit of love and service will live on, despite the loss of his physical life. That though is up to us.

There have been other signs of hope too this week, suggesting the end of winter and the beginning of a new spring. On Monday morning Stephen Lingwood, minister in Cardiff, posted on “Twitter” “February will be better than January. March will be better than February”. I had the same feeling that morning too. There are small signs of hope around. There are new shoots coming through. The snow drops are everywhere. The snowdrop is considered a symbol of hope. Legend has it that they appeared as such after Adam and Even were expelled from Eden. Eve was about to give up hope that the winter would never end, but an angel appeared and transformed some snowflakes into the flower snowdrop, showing that the winter will eventually come to an end. The flower is linked to the purification associated with “Candlemass” as the old rhyme goes:

“The Snowdrop, in purest white array, first rears her head in “Candlemass” day.

There are other signs of hope too, in the middle of this long winter of life. The vaccines continue to be rolled out. So many have received theirs now. We are not at the end of this, of course we are not, but maybe there are signs of coming towards the beginning of the end. The 2nd of February is also “Groundhog Day” another sign of the measure of how long the winter is going to be. Yes I know that most of us feel like we have been living through a version of that classic movie this last 10 months. Remember of course that eventually that day does come to end and Bill Murray, in the form of the character Phil Connors is transformed and even gets the girl Andie McDowell. There are signs of hope all around us.

Sadly bad news on the Punxsutawney Phil front, the groundhog, he saw his shadow. This, according to the tradition, means six more weeks of winter. So, winter might be a little longer this year.

I had my own “Groundhog Day” experience on Tuesday as I had to make my journey to the chapel twice. Not great driving up the Washway Road twice. I arrived at my vestry and realised I didn’t have my mobile phone. I thought I must have put it down as I brought the milk in. I drove home cursing my brain and then looked around the house but couldn’t find it. I then went back to my car and there it was at the side of my seat, it had fallen out of my pocket. I laughed at my own madness and then got on with my day, filled with February thoughts of inspiration.

On Wednesday I woke up to news that made me smile broadly, it balanced out the sadness of hearing of the death of Captain Tom. The 3^rd of February is “Elmo” that loveable character from Sesame Street’s birthday. It put a broad smile on my face and as Elmo’s says “Elmo thinks it’s important to be kind because if you’re kind to somebody, then they’ll be kind to somebody, and it goes on and on and on.” We should all be more like Elmo and more like captain Tom.

This is not the end of winter, but maybe it’s the beginning of the end or at least the end of the beginning. There are seeds of hope being planted and there are new shoots all around us. Hope springs eternal and we do not seem too far from spring. The seeds are there planted beneath the earth, waiting to give birth.

Maybe there are lessons that we can learn from the patience of seeds as we wait for the spring of re-birth from this awful virus. They lay there buried, surrendered to the process that is yet to come, when they will flower and flourish for all to share. Like those seeds there is so much buried within us waiting to be born, but not today. There are signs of hope though, may we nurture them.

This brings to mind a little gem I first came across a few years ago it is taken from “Dwellings. A Spiritual History of the Living World” by Linda Hogan,

"Seed. There are so many beginnings. In Japan, I recall, there were wildflowers that grew in the far, cool region of mountains. The bricks of Hiroshima, down below, were formed of clay from these mountains, and so the walls of houses and shops held the dormant trumpet flower seeds. But after one group of humans killed another with the explosive power of life’s smallest elements split wide apart, the mountain flowers began to grow. Out of destruction and bomb heat and the falling of walls, the seeds opened up and grew. What a horrible beauty, the world going its own way, growing without us. But perhaps this, too, speaks of survival, of hope beyond our time."

Yes there are seeds of hope waiting to be born and there are shoots already showing. There are many dark days to come through, of course there are, but there is hope beyond this time, in the not too distant future. The Hope has to be there growing in our hearts and souls or we won’t plant those seeds. It does not mean there is not horror and destruction in our lives now, but nor does that horror in the present moment stop us seeing that there is goodness in our time and place. There is so much goodness and amazing work going on all around us.

We need to live in and through hope, we need to be hope, we need to say yes to life. Just because there are problems and suffering in life it does not mean we should turn away from life and lose all hope, make despair the orientation of our heart. What kills us is cynicism, giving up on the possibility of what we can make things in life.

This brings to life a quotation from Stephen Colbert a rather wonderful late night American television host of “The Late Show”, who during the presidency of Donald Trump suffered a deal of great despair at the state of his nation, but continued to live in and through Hope and humour. He said:

“Remember, you cannot be both young and wise. Young people who pretend to be wise to the ways of the world are mostly just cynics. Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the farthest thing from it. Because cynics don't learn anything. Because cynicism is a self-imposed blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt us or disappoint us. Cynics always say "no". But saying "yes" begins things. Saying "yes" is how things grow. Saying "yes" leads to knowledge. "Yes" is for young people. So for as long as you have the strength to, say "yes".”

So I say yes to life, to possibility, to the Hope in my heart. So I keep on planting seeds, despite those who tell me there is no point. For hope is, as Elizabeth Barrette says in “Origami Emotion”

“Origami Emotion” by Elizabeth Barrette

Hope is
Folding paper cranes
Even when your hands get cramped
And your eyes tired,
Working past blisters and paper cuts,
Simply because something in you
Insists on
Opening its wings.

I was thinking of this as I looked at the lovely “Brigid’s Cross” Sue and gifted to me and so many other friends and family. She had done something similar with the crystals she had given as gifts to friends and family at Christmas. Those crystals that made little rainbows from light in their homes. Rainbows of course are another symbol of hope.  Life is tough right now, yes it does feel like “Groundhog day” at times, there is much suffering, but that is not all that life is. We do not live in a state of total despair, there is much hope, I am seeing it in this February’s nature. February is better than January and March will be better than February, Stephen is correct, but we have to make it so. 

This brings to mind those final words from the film “Groundhog Day” as Phil Connors (Played by Bill Murray) finally got released from that repeated long winters Day

“When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long lustrous winter.”

There is so much that can be given birth to when we come through this long winter of all our lives. We do not have to trudge through it either. It doesn’t have to be a long slog, with heads down just repeating the same old day. It doesn’t have to be a tough old hike through life. This brings to mind a rather wonderful piece I recently came across by John Muir on hiking, titled “Sauntering”.

"Hiking - I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, "A la sainte terre,' 'To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them."

Maybe this is a spirit that we can take into our daily lives as we keep on going through this winter. Instead of slogging through, perhaps we could saunter, as if on a journey through the holy lands of life and maybe when this is all over the seeds we plant along the way may give birth to something wonderful and beautiful. It will also most certainly help us get through the winter.

Yes, it’s a long cold winter and we are not through it yet. That said there are signs of hope all around us and there is something beautiful within us, waiting to be born, to be given birth to, in our hearts and hearths. Let us nurture them and share them with each other, encourage each other to keep on our little pilgrimages to our own Holy Lands, remembering that the holy land is the land beneath each of our feet. For everything is sacred, everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every word and every deed.

Home is where the heart

“Roots hold me close; wings set me free;

Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me”

When I look at myself, when I really look at myself, I know that while I’m very comfortable with the concept of wings setting me free I am far less comfortable with the idea of roots holding me close. I’ve been thinking about this the last few days. I have always struggled with roots, especially the kind that hold you real close.

I’ve always been a bit of a nomad, a wanderer, a traveller. I have never really settled anywhere. I have lived in my current home in Altrincham for about two and a half years now and it is as long as I have lived anywhere. Even as a child this was the case, we were always on the move. A bit of a butterfly you might say, just floating from flower to flower, but never staying anywhere for very long, never really nesting.

My dad always said there was Romany (Roma) blood in us. I know that he had this romantic view of himself and he certainly had a love of this lifestyle and I can see traces of this in me. Not the love for horses and horse folk, but certainly the nomad, the traveller, the fear of taking root somewhere.

I always remember the story he use to tell of why travellers were always on the move. He says that it was a traveller who hammered in the nails into Jesus’ hands and feet as he was crucified, but for some reason he only used three nails instead of four; a nail in each hand but one nail through both feet, as they were crossed together. He use to say that this fourth nail was why travellers never settled in one place for very long; this fourth nail was always following behind them catching up with them, a bit like those headlights that keep on following us at night, as we drive in the dark...just like headlights on your tail, headlights on your tail...

My dad on his way to Appleby horse fair

The story is a rather beautiful “mythos”, but a sad one...

I am learning the importance of roots, the importance of place, the importance of home. We all need roots, that hold us close, so that we can spread our wings and truly fly free. We all need a nest to fly back to from time to time otherwise we get lost and lonely on our journeys.

I do feel settled these days among the beautiful communities I serve and belong to.  I’ve certainly learnt a lot from them about place, commitment and community. I have learnt so much about those roots that hold us oh so close, that are so vital if we wish to fully stretch our wings and fly free. I’m very settled in the community in and around Altrincham and in my little house. I’m sure that the way I live would be too basic and perhaps Spartan for most folk, but I feel at home there. It is my little nest, my little home where I can settle down and rest after a day flying around all over the place. I am finally beginning to understand the importance of home, how vital it is to have roots that hold you close and that the “Romany Rye” that my dad use to sing, is not really for me at all.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about "Groundhog Day" and shared the closing words from the final broadcast of weather man Phil (Bill Murray)  near the end of the film. He said:

“When Chechov saw the long winter, it was a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope; and yet we know winter’s only one more step in the cycle. And standing among the people of Punxsutawney basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter."

...”Basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts”...those words have stuck with me these last few days. I’ve been thinking about them. It brings to mind a true image of home. It is a loving image, a comforting image and one I am growing to appreciate.

Home is where your heart is and it is also where your hearth is. Yvonne Aburrow (Editor of the Unitarian) recently told me that the ancient Romans “viewed the hearth as the centre or focus of the home. It was where the family offerings to the family gods were made.”...she went on to say...”I think a room is incomplete without a hearth or an altar to focus it and in some rooms, the TV is the focus instead of the hearth-fire.”

I wonder what the main focus of people's homes are...the focus of my home and my life is so many ways is my laptop...

Home is where the heart and where your hearth is, even if that is a laptop. And as they say there is no place like home. When I think of the nomad, the traveller who wants their wings set free, but without the roots to hold them close, I always return to Dorothy and “The Wizard of Oz”. In the film she begins by singing of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” a place away from the drudgery, of the mundainity, of life where wings could set her free, but at the end she clicks those ruby slippers and says those immortal words. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like"

“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” Dorothy has been on a spiritual journey and encountered all manner of fascinating friends along the way. She has also fought off enemies who wanted to destroy her. She has experienced and learnt so much, but in the end she just wants to return home. She needs those roots to hold her close, because her wings have become tired.

For many home is the embodiment of safety and acceptance, the heart and the hearth of a loving family. Robert Frost wrote that “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." Sadly this is not the case for everyone, for many people home and family is not a place of safety at all. In fact it is a place of struggle and suffering.

Home is a tiny word but a powerful one and one so rich in meaning. It is a word that can hold such dreams of possibilities or nightmares of hurt. It is more than a physical place it is an idea, a feeling, a vision. It is something that we carry with us as we journey through life; it is not just something that we seek. For some it is a place that they are fleeing from, a place of repression and not a place of loving possibility.

Shelter is of course a basic human need. Something that people are seemingly increasingly being denied, homelessness is once again on the increase in this country. Some estimates claim that as many as 1 million people live without a permanent residence. To have somewhere to lay your head at night is a basic human need. We all need a place to cook, to eat to care for each other and yet increasingly people are finding themselves devoid of this basic need.

That said “home” is more than a physical place, you do not need to be physically homeless to experience a sense of homelessness. When Dorothy says “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home”, she is longing.

I suspect that it is the tension between the roots that we need to hold us close and those wings that we wish to spread to set us free that drive us to find true home. We all need connection and we all need freedom, our souls cry out for both. A true home offers this. The true home, the ideal home offers us the promise of wholeness; it offers both solitude and connection. A place where we can warm ourselves by hearth and hearts can dream of what they truly desire. Home is where the heart and the hearth is.

A sense of belonging is vital to a happy and healthy life. We need roots that can hold us close so that when we fly off on our next adventure we can spread our wings and fly free. To me this is the purpose of free religious communities like the two I serve. To me this is the purpose of true religion; a place where no one need be alone; a place that anyone can call home; a place that binds up the whole and the broken; a place that brings glad tidings; a place that offers space to spread your wings; a place where you can fly free. At the beginning of the “Wizard of Oz”, while she was still in Kansas, Dorothy sings of a place where “the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true”. To me this is the purpose of spiritual community, a place where such dreams can come true.

I know I’ve found a home among the beautiful people of Altrincham and Urmston and I offer thanks and praise for this. I believe that it is the task of communities like these to be places of open hearts and hearths so that people can truly feel at home there. As I look forward I believe it is our task is to create together  a place where the roots are stretched out far and wide and people can be held close so that they can spread out their wings and be set free...