A Labour of Love: Dedication it's What You Need

I love ministering to the communities I serve. It is a labour of love. What I love the most is that they don’t expect perfection from either myself or one another. As I so often say we are the church, we are the chapel, we are the community where everything goes wrong. Now despite this and maybe because of this we are a place of dedication, of welcome, of acceptance and most of all love. I think sometimes people are a little surprised by the informality. I hope that thy sense the care and concern, I believe that they do. I hope that they feel the warmth and the friendliness. I will always remember something that Margaret Darbyshire, a member from Urmston who died during the pandemic, said to me when she had been coming for a couple of years, “this is a church like no other I have ever been to, but I like it, it is how a church should be.” She came to us almost by mistake by accident, she is not the first and hope she won’t be the last to so. She stayed because as she said it was what she had been looking for all of her life.

Nothing works perfectly, something always seems to go wrong, I don’t think we have ever had a Sunday where everything has gone smoothly, or there has not been a seeming disaster at some point in the week. We are perfectly imperfect communities. The things we get wrong, our mistakes aren’t the most important parts of us. What matters more is what is at the heart of us; what matters the most is kindness and compassion. This is what I have witnessed and continue to witness more and more over the years. I have felt it oh so powerfully these last few weeks, it has touched me in those places that really count.

There is such love and deep dedication in these two communities. People show their love by blessing them with their presence. It is made holy by becoming sanctified by loving dedication. What I see is love in action, love alive in common humanity, love in tangible form. Here’s a little verse on that by Susan Karlson

“Love In Tangible Form” by Susan Karlson

Looking at the overflowing cup,
Seeing from another perspective,
Witnessing life in all its fullness,
We share from a place of hope and dedication
And put our love into tangible form.

Following this Sunday’s service, in Altrincham, we will be acknowledging the dedicated service of Martin West to the congregation, by unveiling a plaque in his honour at the organ. I will not embarrass Martin, he is a humble man, by listing all that he has done for the congregation and the wider Unitarian movement, it would take a long time to do so. Most of what he has done has been behind the scenes as he has for other causes too. He has done so much for others, often anonymously.

There is a similar plaque at Urmston in honour of Robert Haslem. He served the congregation in so many ways. The plaque reads “A labour of love”. This seems appropriate, as such dedication is most certainly done from love.

“Labour of Love” is an interesting phrase. I think I first became aware of it in the late 1980’s. It was a song by the Scottish group “Hue and Cry”. The phrase comes from translations of the King James version of the Bible, that was no doubt influenced by Shakespeare’s “Loves Labour Lost”, although he never actually used the phrase. It is to be found though in two verses in Thessalonians and Hebrews. It is the verse in Hebrews 6:10, that speaks to me: “For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labour of love, which ye have shewed toward his name, in that ye have ministered to the saints, and do minister.”

Ministry for me is a labour of love. That said I am not the only person who ministers, we minister as a community of people. To minister literally means to serve, something I often want to remind those of a political persuasion about at times, particularly the Prime Minister, who ought to see himself as the number servant of the people, I suspect he does not. Do any of them?

I see examples of these labours of love all around, people serving from love, people ministering in their own ways, adding what they can to make the flavour and substance of the community, the ministrone of this ministry. Ministrone and minister both mean to serve.

I have seen wonderful examples of this in Urmston in recent weeks as folk have gone out of their way to ensure that we get the work done on the ceiling, so that we can function and survive and hopefully one day thrive again. We need to be here to offer a free religious community, to those who seek. I have witnessed that same dedication in Altrincham too. I have witnessed so much love and dedication here, during lockdown and as we have opened up again. We saw it last summer as Gwyneth ensured that we got the wind telephone installed to help with those in grief. Or in the Andrea’s insistence on getting those benches installed so we could meet outside, we will dedicate them to her memory and we will honour her after the service as we scatter half of her ashes in the Garden of Remembrance and place her name on the wall. The family will take the rest back to Aberdeen with them. She was such a blessing to us all, to this community.

People give their heart in love in many ways. There are so many labours of love. People dedicate themselves in so many ways and bless life in so many ways. I have witnessed this for years in the small schoolroom at Altrincham, which has been a home for Alcoholics Anonymous for nearly 50 years. Thanks in no small part to Andrea’s efforts it now houses 8 meetings a week. The dedicated service, the ministry in its many forms that goes on there has led to the transformation of so many lives. That little building, that humble building, truly is a temple of love, of dedication and of transformation, it truly is holy ground, although there is no need to shake off your shoes, when you step over the threshold.

Dedication is how we show our love through blessing the lives we touch and the places we visit with our loving presence. Places are made holy when we sanctify them with loving dedication.

“Dedication” is one of those words that has changed in meaning over time. It comes from an old French word “dedicacion which meant “concecration of a church or chapel”, coming from the Latin word “dedicare” meaning to concecrate, proclaim, affirm or set aside. It later came to mean to give yourself to a purpose. This is what the folk do in the communities I serve, I witness such dedication. We carry that love into our world, that is the purpose of my blessing each and every Sunday at the end of worship. For if we live in dedication to love and life we begin to bless all life, we make the ground at our feet holy ground as we consecrate it with our loving presence.

To me this is the true meaning of church, a place of transformation, a place where we recognise the sacred uniqueness of ourselves and one another, that we recognise the blessings that we are and the blessings in life and where we learn to go out into the world and bless it with our sacred uniqueness. The world awaits our blessing, for it surely needs it.

If we live in dedication to love and life we begin to bless all life, we make the ground at our feet holy ground as we consecrate it with our loving presence. Like Moses in Exodus who is told to “shake of his shoes” for he is standing on holy ground, in the presence of “I am”.

We can all hear the call of the Holy from deep within us and from all around us, we can all bless life with our holy presence. All we have to do is live with dedication, to consecrate the ground at our feet and the people who we meet, all we have to do is live with dedication and become the blessing that we have all been searching for. In so doing we will find ourselves instantly in the “Promised Land”

To live in dedication all we have to do is shake off our shoes and live our lives recognising that this truly is a holy place. Sacred living, holiness, dedication is about being fully alive. Holiness is a life fully alive, a life where we truly pay attention.

All we have to do to awaken the holy is to truly pay attention to the world and the people around us and truly inhabit the space in which we live and breathe and share our being. All we have to do is come to believe that we all walk on holy ground. All we have to do is wholly live our lives. All we have to do is live our lives in dedication to the holiest of holy purposes, to live in love. To love one another and to serve life in whatever way we can.

All we need is dedication…

Dedication, dedication, dedication, that’s what you need. If you want to be the best and if you want to beat to the rest, dedication is what you need.

Below is a devotion based on the 

material in this "Blogspot"

Come, Come, Whoever You Are: Creating Spiritual Sanctuary"

I trust you have enjoyed the beautiful weather this week, I have. A part of me wishes it could have been like this a couple of weeks ago during a  break on the Yorkshire coast. Alas it was not and anyway what is the point of wishful thinking.

The other morning I was chatting with a friend enjoying the sun and coffee at Café Nero. As we were talking, I was reminded of a couple of moments, during the holiday, when the rain was “siling” down. We were in Bridlington and the shower was so heavy we sought shelter on the beautiful beach fronts. We shared the space with a bunch of the most “Yorkshire people” you could wish to meet. They were laughing and joking about the weather and other holiday destinations. Several said there was no better place than the Yorkshire coast. One man piped up saying “well I quite like Greece”, several agreed, there was much laughter. Then the most Yorkshire man you could ever meet said in a deadpan voice, but with a slight glint in his eye, “went to the New Forest once, it was very disappointing 25% of the beach was practically derelict”, followed by roaring laughter from those around. I whispered to Sue, welcome to Yorkshire. Anyhow the rain abated and we enjoyed the day.

If you ever seen “An American Werewolf in London” just think of that scene in “The Slaughtered Lamb”

A couple of days later we spent some time at Hemsley visiting the walled garden, castle and beginning at Rievaulx Abbey, all the while finding ways to shelter from the rain. Rievaulx had a powerful effect on me. It is an ancient abbey founded by St Bernard of Clairvaux, in 1098. It became one of the most remarkable of the 12^th century monastic reform movements, placing an emphasis on a return to an austere life and literal observance of the rules set out for monastic life by St Benedict in the 6th century. It grew enormously over the years, becoming influential, although it was devastated by the plague and finally pillaged and destroyed during the reign of Henry VIII. I don’t think my friend in Bridlington would have been too impressed with Rievaulx though, as it is 100% derelict.

Rievaulx most revered Abbot was Aelred, a brilliant scholar and writer, he doubled the community by the time he died, growing to 140 monks and 500 lay brothers. His greatest work was probably on De spiritali amicitia ("On Spiritual Friendship"). The life was hard at the abbey but there was deep love shared amongst the brothers, led by Aelred. It was a place of love of refuge. Truly the community was a sanctuary. Aelred has become a hero within the LGBTQI community. Some academics suggesting that he himself was gay. Who knows, celibacy was practiced in the community, although he had certainly enjoyed a wilder youth.

I was deeply affected by Rievaulx, imagining what life must have been like living there in the middle ages. The last time I felt such power in a place, such spiritual love, was in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and below the ground touching the western wall in Jerusalem. There is something special about the ruins of Rievaulx. A place of refuge, not just from the Yorkshire rain, but spiritual refuge, sustenance, a place of sanctuary.

One of the basic human needs is to feel safe and secure, something I have been considering in recent weeks as we continue to return to “normal” living. I’ve been thinking about the role of communities like the ones I sere, what we can offer spiritually to folks out there. Can we become a place of refuge, a spiritual sanctuary. I’ve been thinking of a verse from Hebrews chapter 13 “ ²Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

Showing hospitality and caring for the vulnerable in society is a key aspect of the Judeo - Christian and Islamic tradition. You will find it deeply rooted in the Abrahamic traditions and virtually every other world religion too. Hospitality is an essential spiritual practice. It begins with an open heart and a generosity of spirit. It’s about recognising the good in life and in people. It’s about recognising ourselves in those very same people. It’s about being open and welcoming to all, where ever they have been, where ever they are going and where ever they find themselves now. Tibetan Buddhist monks great the strangers visiting their temples with “Welcome, friend, from what noble spiritual tradition do you come.” The Christian monastic tradition has a long held practise of taking in strangers and offering them sanctuary as if they were Christ, inspired by those very words from Hebrews. In so doing they are following the example of Jesus who mingled with all people, there was no one left outside the city gate, no untouchables.

Sadly, our age has become characterised by distrust, there is a fear of the strange and the stranger. This has perhaps grown since the beginning of the pandemic. As society rebuilds, we will have to learn how to be spiritually intimate with one another again; we will have to re-learn how to welcome one another and the stranger into community once again. If we do, we will not only be offering spiritual love to them but also liberate ourselves from the bondages of selfishness and self-centredness that we create. As Joan Chittister has said “Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves. It is the first step toward dismantling the barriers of the world. Hospitality is the way we turn a prejudiced world around one heart at a time.” This is living by spiritual love, to offer sanctuary in our hearts. “

Sanctuary is probably a strange word, not one you hear very often. The first time I heard it was from the mouth of Charles Laughton playing the “Hunchback of Notre Dam”, those immortal words “Sanctuary, sanctuary, Esmeralda you gave me water.” I think the second time was in the song by The Cult “She Sells Sanctuary”. I’m not sure I understood it then though. I have been thinking about it once again as I reflected on what we can offer as a free religious community. I have also been thinking of all those beautiful souls that have opened themselves to me in so many ways and given me sanctuary materially, emotionally, mentally and spirituality.

"She Sells Sanctuary" The Cult

In its original understanding a “sanctuary” was a sacred place, such as a shrine. These places became safe havens for people in desperate need and fleeing persecution in medieval times. The word has developed and expanded in meaning over the centuries into a place of safety for humans and animals too. A place where we can be welcomed and made to feel at home and therefore thrive. I believe that we can extend it further, expand its meaning. We as individuals could become sanctuaries too, to the spiritually lost. I have also been thinking about how we as individuals find refuge and sanctuary in our lives. Where have you sought solace this last year or so? This is something we could share with one another, to help one another, to offer spiritual love to one another and to those in our wider community.

We all need sanctuary, we need to find spiritual shelter. Parker J Palmer has said: “Sanctuary is wherever I find safe space to regain my bearings, reclaim my soul, heal my wounds, and return to the world as a wounded healer. It’s not merely about finding shelter from the storm: it’s about spiritual survival.”

I often find sanctuary in poetry. I have loved sharing many poems with friends this last year or so, it has opened and filled my heart at times, it has also brought me close to people, despite our physical separation. A good poem offers sanctuary. It reminds me of the necessity, power and beauty of contemplation. Something that Aelred’s monks spent much of time in. I may not contemplate exactly as they did, but poetry helps me reach those deeper aspects of my heart. Here’s a favourite that always brings me solace when caught up in the storms of life. It offers me shelter from the storm.

“The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

 When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The poem also offers something else that is refuge, solace and sanctuary for many, including myself, that of nature. For some it is the trees and plants, for others, including me, it is the animals, whether the birds or mammals or all those wonderful varieties of dogs, they open my heart as do so many people who I am seeing more and more of.

I believe that the primary purpose of a free religious community, such as the ones I serve, is to be a spiritual sanctuary to the folk out there. At our best we are a place where people can come and feel secure and safe as they are and then begin to thrive and grow spiritually with us. In so doing they can become sanctuaries and places of welcome and hospitality in the world. They can live with openness and give to those they meet in a loving way. For me being a Unitarian minister is about creating sanctuaries wherever I go and encouraging others to do likewise. Encouraging them to live openly and lovingly in a world that needs it more and more. It’s about encouraging people to do what they can, whatever that might be. In so doing they may well encounter angels.

So where can you offer hospitality and welcome in this world? Something perhaps to think about How can you become a sanctuary? Where is the place of need in the world around? How do we begin to heal our world and offer hope in the despair of our world?

How can you offer sanctuary, sanctuary, how can you offer spiritual sustenance and spiritual water?

Here is a video based on the material in this "blogspot"

Angels Without Wings

Last Monday was one of those days when I just couldn’t get going, I was constantly interrupted by people either by telephone or coming to the chapel. I found myself getting somewhat frustrated by this, but by the end of the day I found myself laughing about it all, especially my frustrations. The truth is that everyone was bringing gifts of the heart, I suspect that I was visited by angels, if ones without wings.

That morning as I got back from the gym I noticed I had a message on my mobile phone from Rev Angus Parker. Angus is a retired minister living in Tameside. It seems he recently read an article I had written for “The Inquirer” back in September. He was concerned about my well-being and had gone all around the houses to get in touch with me. We had a lovely conversation and then I tried to get on with my work. I could not as Aled arrived to take the toys we had collected to “The Wood Street Mission”. He also had a few other matters to discuss. I tried again to get back to work but seemed to be interrupted over and over again, by people wanting to talk with me. In the middle of this I received a wonderful email from Oliver with a poem he had written in response to the toy service he had taken part in. This led to more conversations with folk at Unitarian headquarters as we might use the material as part of daily offerings to support people at this time . Then Aled appeared again this time with Mrs Khurana and a woman named Katie, they had come baring gifts both for me personally and also for the toy collection. We talked for some time and then I returned to try and get on with my work, all the while Aled was loading up the toys. It wasn’t long before there was another knock on the door, this time it was Barbara again with gifts for the toy collection, again we talked for a while before I returned to my work. I sat and began to smile to myself as a theme for the this week began to form in my heart and mind, my homiletic consciousness had awoken. As I thought about all the conversations I had had I realised that I had been visited by angels, all be it ones without wings. I call them angels because they had visited or communicated messages of love and concern for others and they had brought those gifts to me. It brought to my mind the following verse from Hebrews ch 13 v 2  “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers; for by so doing, some have entertained angels unawares”.

Thankfully I was able to show hospitality to all those visitors and everyone of them were angels, they brought messages of love, I had indeed entertained them unawares.

Angels are central to the whole Nativity mythos, actually you will find them throughout the Bible, both in the Hebrew and Christian books. By the way you will also find them in many other religious traditions too. Many people today speak of a belief in angels as well. Do you believe in angels?

Now I have to be honest with you and admit that there is much in the Christmas mythos that I cannot literally believe, but then mythos has never been about historical accuracy and more about universal truth. There is a truth within the stories that can teach us a great deal about how we should live with one another and I count the angels as part of this.

The Hebrew and Greek words for angel (malak and aggelos) simply means “messenger”. In the Christmas mythos, the Nativity, it is the Arch Angel Gabriel who delivers the news that Elizabeth will give birth to John the Baptist and that Mary will soon be carrying Jesus. These are both described as miracles as Elizabeth cannot have children and Mary is a virgin. Gabriel appears again to the Shepherds and it is said during the Easter story too. Within the Judea-Christian tradition angels are seen as the deliverers of the “good news”.

The Jewish scriptures are littered with individuals encountering angels. In some of these accounts it is suggested that not only are these angels delivering a message from the Divine but may well be God itself. They are sometimes referred to as “the angel of the Lord” and not just simply an angel.

Angels are holy messengers, delivering a holy message, that has to potential to transform our lives or the lives of others. Now in my eyes everything is holy, for everything matters. Therefore everyone and everything can be a holy messenger. Anyone who delivers goodness, wisdom, hope, who lifts us up when we have fallen is an angel; anyone or anything that delivers the message that everything matters and cares for that matter is delivering a holy message, they are a holy angel, even if they don’t have wings.

You do not have to be a beautiful androgenous figure from a Renaissance painting, with classical features, flowing long hair, and wings, to be an angel. You just have to be an ordinary person delivering a gift of love in some form or other. I was thinking of the children and parents from Mrs Hare’s dance school who answered the call to bring all those gifts of toys for the children last week and those from both congregations who brought their gifts too. I thought of Christine placing Paddington Bear at the top of the bag and OIliver noticing him peeking out which led to the poem he wrote right there on the spot. I thought about all those angels that have done small and great things these last few months, finding ways to help people in their time of need, despite the truly difficult circumstances that we have all been living through. As I was writing these words I heard of the 90 year old woman Margaret Keenan who was the first to be given the vaccine and the second man from Coventry the wonderfully named William Shakespeare who was the second, I heard of another wonderful man named Martin Kenyon, again 91 years old who was announcing to the world that he would be able to hug his graddaughters at Christmas, something that they didn’t even know yet, but he was going to tell them, what a beautiful message that would be for the whole family. It is hoped that life will begin to get back to normal in the not too distant future and save some many lives from this horrific pandemic. If the vaccine is not a message of holiness then I don’t know what is. Our lives, everyone of our lives matter so much. Oh there are angles everywhere, none of which have wings, although they have certainly earned them.

By the way not all angels walk on two legs. I was greeted by a little furry four legged one as I walked into an empty home last Monday night. Little Charlie was delivering a message of love as I arrived home. She even came upstairs to be with me as I took a long relaxing bath.

An angel doesn’t even need to be a living breathing thing either. Nature has the capacity to lift us up when we feel we have fallen once again, it can deliver a message of love too. I can feel that message at times in the wind, whispering a message of faith, hope and love; or in the calm that falls after the storm; or in one of those red dawn rainbows; or in another heroes sunset as you think about going home after a long hard day.

Angels come in many forms, rarely with wings it seems, although the wild geese and the song of the blackbird certainly teach of the holiness of everything, so sometimes they have wings. However the message comes I know that I have encountered an angel when it teaches me of the holiness of everything, that everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every word and every deed, that all is holy.

The messengers may not be bringing glad tidings of comfort and joy, they may be bringing a message pointing out what is wrong in the world or in our life. One angel might be a friend pointing something out to you, or someone reaching out for your help, or it might be something you see or hear on the news that leads us to respond in loving ways, to use our own holy love to bring repair to the fabric of our world, this is holy work. The messages and messengers are angels for they are delivering holy massages about holy matter and of course life really matters. If the messages awaken in us compassion, love, greater understanding, or a thirst for justice, then they are the holy speaking of what is holy to us. Everything matters, so everything is holy, thus those who deliver such messages are angels, even if they don’t have wings. To repeat those words from Hebrews (Ch 13 v 2) “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers; for by so doing, some have entertained angels unawares”. Even if the message appears unpleasant, apparent bad news please do entertain them, welcome it all in, for it may be delivering something holy to you.

Brings to mind those wonderful words of Rumi “The Guesthouse”

The Guest House

 

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

 

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

 

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

 

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

 

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

 

— Jellaludin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks

The message is to welcome them all in, whatever they might be, for they are baring holy gifts. We need to be open to the unexpected, the unknown, the seemingly mundane, for we do not know what gifts of the holy might be in that message. Rumi reminds us that even that which shakes us up may well be clearing us out for some new delight. Do not keep out the holy for it may be preparing us for something wonderful, some holy action, just like those angels did in the Nativity.

The message needs to be heard and then acted upon; It might be to go on some adventure like Mary and Joseph or the shepherds or in more subtle ways like the wisemen responding to the star and their ancient knowledge, their reason and their dream. They sought out the holy infant and did not tell Herod where he was, they responded to their holy messages. Or maybe its that message that we need to “bring glad tidings of peace on earth, goodwill to all people.” Just like the angel brought to the shepherds, a message that we have failed to hear or at least create.

Maybe now is the time, maybe that is the massage of Christmas, the universal Christmas, maybe that is the only massage that really matters. That this is our holy duty, that this is how we make all life holy, that we make all matter really matter. Maybe that’s what we are all here to do, to finally bring peace on earth and goodwill to all and then when we do so maybe we will all finally receive our wings and love will finally be born in the mangers of all our hearts and lives.

So listen my friends, there are angels everywhere.

Shake Off Your Shoes

“T’Hillah”

Barukh atah, Emeth!

Blest are you, o Truth,
Like the fabled Moses,
I too can never claim to have seen you
“face to face.”
Too often, I’ve hung my own face on you
And pretended that I know something I do not.
Indeed my most honest heart confesses
That at most,
I have only caught the briefest glimpse of you
At the very edge of my eye,
And only when I got out of my own way,

My own rush, my own fury.

I sense your cool shadow on me

When I grow hot from the tears
I’ve been holding back,
Or when I notice the sadness or whimsy
Hiding in the silent eyes of those around me.

I sense your closeness when I gaze

At a star suddenly unveiled by a toreador cloud,
Or catch at an early yellowness
In the leaves of the oak.

It’s then I feel a brush of wings nearby,

And realize that I am only a small part of it all.
Then I know that I am not the
Great high power of the world,
But only a puff of breath hidden amid the
Mighty blast of the great whirlwind
Called the universe.
Like a lacewing barely floating
On the tip of a small blade of green grass is my life
From beginning to end, a short footnote to
A vast essay of stars and space unbounded,
An essay neither signed nor fully symbolic.
And yet this truth, your truth,
Is no sadness, but a joy,
No lack but a blessing,
Like the sight of a child at play,
Totally absorbed in the moment, and glad.
Blest are you, O Truth, who plays in the silence
Like a child in the waves of an infinite sea.

Barukh atah, Emeth.

By Mark Belletini 

I awoke last Sunday with this sense that my heart was in a holy place. To slightly misquote the hymn “I felt blessed with love and amazing grace”. It felt like a week of holy encounters; that I had been blessed by the company of some amazing people over the last few days; that I had enjoyed some beautiful spiritual encounters.

Now strangely I had struggled to get up that morning. I was tired; I had gone to bed tired. It had been a very busy week. An intense week, an absorbed week, but a very good week. I had spent many moments when I had truly known “thick time”. It had been a very involved but also deeply moving week. The day before I had hosted something I had wanted to begin doing for a long time now, and finally, it had got off the ground.

I had felt for a long time the need to create the space for people to come and share together their grief, for the loved ones they had lost; to share their love and to share their pain for their loss. I had not known how to do this, but put my faith in the loving spirit that holds me, leads me and sustains me. So I put something together and I created the space. What followed was deeply moving. It feels like the beginning of something special. I was touched by every moment. It was a deeply spiritual experience and it felt we were truly sharing together on Holy ground.

 

I say it felt like we were on "holy ground", but this wasn’t because the building was anything special, it was the small schoolroom at Dunham Road Unitarian Chapel, Altrincham. No we had made the space holy by blessing it with our presence. In doing so, in such loving and open ways, I felt the presence of the Divine Love holding us through it all.

The time I share with congregations I serve, especially during worship is a deeply holy time, but not because we are in a building that is any more special than any other. It is just bricks and mortar. It is made Holy by what goes on here and what has gone on there for generations now. We are blessed by Holy ground in those temples of Love because what occurs there is, in my view, concentrated love. We share “thick time”, in what has become “thin places”, for me.

Maybe it’s the falling Cherry Blossom, but at this time of year I feel more alive. I suspect it’s because I just seem to pay more attention to places and the ground at my feet. I feel deeply connected to places at this time of year, I feel like I am constantly walking on holy ground. I feel deeply nourished by the ground at my feet. I feel the Spirit of Life rising up through the souls of my feet. So much so that I want to be like Moses and shake off my shoes.

There’s a deeper sense of belonging going on, I feel at home wherever I find myself. When I feel like, my heart is filled with memories. Good memories and painful memories;  memories that allow the moment to truly come alive. Maybe this is why I’ve noticed myself saying “thank you” a lot to the seemingly inanimate. I can’t seem to stop myself offering a constant prayer of gratitude.

I feel it powerfully in the houses of love that I lead worship in, they are special places of love and attention. I think attention is the key by the way; it is attention that allows us to bless the space in which we find ourselves. As Wendell Berry once said, “This place, if I am to live well in it, requires and deserves a lifetime of the most careful attention.” The key is attention. It is by giving a time and space attention that we make it a Holy place. I felt this powerfully last Saturday as I shared attention with others as we opened ourselves to our shared experiences of love and loss. In that time we made space for the Divine, for the presence of God. In so doing we all make the ground at our feet Holy.
 

Perhaps the best known reference to "Holy Ground" can be found in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Book of Exodus. It describes Moses, who is out tending his flock near the Mountain of Horeb, he sees a bush which is on fire and yet not burning up with the flames. It must have seemed an odd sight to Moses and it drew him nearer. So he turns away from his flock to get a closer look at the bush. As he turns “God calls his name from the bush.” “Moses, Moses.” When Moses answers, “Here I am,” He is told to remove his shoes for he stands on holy ground.

Moses is called to deliver the Hebrew people out of Egypt, to free them from slavery. God says to Moses, “I have seen the misery of my people. I have heard them crying out and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come to rescue them from the land of the Egyptians. So now, go. I am sending you to Pharoah to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”

Now Moses wondered why on earth the people would follow him, so he asked for a sign, he asked for a name that the people would believe. To which God told him to tell them that “I am” had sent him.

In saying "I am has sent me" Moses was not offering them certainty, just mystery. They would have to risk everything in order to reach the promised land.  This they did I suspect because the mystery of the unknown was more attractive than the slavery they were currently in. This speaks powerfully to me about experiences I have had in my own life. How many times have I stepped into the unknown?

Now you may well ask what can this mean to we who live now? Well like a lot of scripture I see a beautiful universal mythos, a truth that can speak to all of us. I do not read scripture as history, I read it as meaningful mystery. For me the burning bush is about Moses uncovering his own meaning, his own purpose. It’s about him being caught by the flame. It’s about him paying attention to the ground at his feet and the people he lived with. It’s about him seeing that the ground at his feet is holy ground and that his task was to lead his people to the Promised Land. So they wandered for forty years in the desert looking for the Promised Land. Something we can all do in our lives searching for Heaven, for Nirvana when the truth is we are already in it. All we have to do is truly live on the land in which we find ourselves and to truly bless it and one another with our loving presence. We don’t need to be led to the promise land we just need to realise that we are already standing on it. We just need to bring this space and place alive.

We can all be caught by the flame as Moses was, we can hear the call of the Holy from deep within us and from all around us, all we have to do is to listen; all we have to do is to pay attention; all that we have to do is to live fully alive, to open our senses; all we have to do is risk everything by giving our love away. We too can be like Moses and the Hebrews. We can come to find ourselves, after many trials in the Promised land, by learning to live in the ground that are feet are firmly planted in.

We can live our lives with our hearts in a holy place. It’s quite simple really , holiness is a life fully lived, a life where we truly pay attention. The holy is not some separate place, the spirit is not separate from the body, “sacred the body”; our physical lives are not in exile from the spiritual. All we have to do to awaken the holy is to truly pay attention to the world and the people around and truly inhabit the space in which we live and breathe and share our being. All we have to do is come to believe that we all walk on holy ground. All we have to do is wholly live our lives. It is interesting to note the word holy is derived from the old English word “Hal” which meant whole. To stand on holy ground it to live our lives wholly. The Promised Land is not out there or up there, it’s not some faraway place it is right here right now. All we have to do to find it, is to pay attention. All we have to do is to feel the ground at our feet. Shake off your shoes.

There is something very powerful about coming together in love, there is something very powerful in opening ourselves up to one another and recognise what connects us what makes us wholly human, this is what it means to be holy. I experience this in worship, I recognise this in the deep encounters I experience with people. I felt it powerfully last Saturday as I opened my heart to my love and loss with others. I have never felt more alive. This is holy work and it allows me to live more lovingly with the people I find myself in the company of. Whenever I do, as I look down at the ground at me feet, I want to shake off my shoes for I recognise that what I find myself in is indeed “Holy Ground”.

We can all bless the space in which we inhabit All we have to do is to open our hearts and connect to the Greater mysteries of life, to the Web of being, to know the spirit of life and love, to experience God. In so doing we begin to connect to the greater realities and mysteries of existence. All we have to do is to pay attention to the life around us and to touch the people we meet in our daily living. In so doing we make the ground at our feet holy.

All we have to do is shake off our shoes, to feel the spirit rise up through our feet, to recognise that all ground is holy ground, that all life is formed of the spirit and recognise the sacredness of each person that we meet, in so doing we will bless all life with our loving presence.