I Didn’t Understand a Single Word That Man Said

Pronunciation can be tricky. We learn to speak by listening to others. We repeat what we hear. This is probably why both accents and dialect are to some degree disappearing. We hear so many different types of speech today than we did in the past. As a minister of religion it is vitally important that people can understand what I am saying, that I can articulate. Now of course it is not just the words I say that need to heard and understood, more importantly it is meaning beneath the words that mean the most. Now I know sometimes this does not happen. From time to time people have repeated back to me things they have heard me say, which have been almost the exact opposite of what I meant. Not very often thankfully.

I and others have had a little fun with mine and others troubles with pronunciation recently. It began a couple of Sunday’s ago with Derek’s troubles with “phenomenom”. A word no matter how hard he tried he could not say. Afterwards I offered him a tip, one I have suggested to others, that if you are struggling with this word then you may find help from the Muppets. You may remember the song “manam mana”. I got over my struggles with phenomenon by saying over and over again “Manam mana” and hey presto I could say phenomena. By the time I got to Altrincham I thought I would give Penny some help as she was delivering the same reading as Derek. It was a mistake I think I put her off and I am sorry for that. Sometimes all of us can get too worried about coming across perfectly when what actually matters the most is authenticity and the meaning between what we say.

I have got frustrated with myself at times, because I have been unable to articulate myself perfectly. One word I regularly struggle with is the word “regularly”, it just seems to get stuck on my tongue. I shared about this on Facebook and received some interesting response. I am not the only one who regularly struggles to pronounce “regularly”. Others shared words that they struggled with. Several folk struggle with “phenomena” or “phenomenon”. Other words included “Music”, “behavioural”, “statistics”, “disorientated”, “immediately”, “meteorological”, “Tsunami”, “Ibuprofen”, “Cardigan”, “Abominable”, “Hilariously”, “Enthusiasm and so many more. Apparently Benedict Cumberbatch can’t say penguin, but then who can say Benedict Cumberbatch. I remember the former Leeds United manager Marcelo Bielsa struggled with Ipswich and Leicester and Americans famously struggle with Worcestershire Sause. Now you have just heard me struggle with a few of them.

It was fun and connective to share these common struggles. It is especially difficult if English is not your first language. Not that pronunciation is the most important thing. What matters the most is at the heart of what we say, the meaning beneath the words we say and use. That said it does help if people can understand what you are saying. Sadly accents and dialect can at times get in the way. I have been humbled on a couple of occasions when speaking publicly. Thankfully I was able to laugh about it later. One time was when I was in Transylvania and had delivered a sermon that was translated into Hungarian. There was a TV company there filming for a local news channel. After the service they interviewed Carolyn Jones, who speaks clearly and without an accent. Afterwards she asked if they would like to speak to me, to which they replied “Oh no I didn’t understand a word that man said.” Another time was when I was asked to deliver a workshop and talk in the West Midlands. I read the poem “The Layers” by Stanley Kunitz. Afterwards one or two people didn’t quite understand what I meant as they heard me saying “lair” and not “layer”, they thought I was suggesting that they live in the “lair” of a lion and not the “layers” of life. This is purely about accents. “lay-er” where come from is pronounced “lare” as in “make sure you where plenty of lares today, as it is perishing cold outside.

Now all joking aside. Yes people don’t always understand every word, as it is not always articulated correctly. What is worse though is when someone doesn’t get the heart or meaning behind what is said. Or worse than that they are hurt by words spoken; that the heart and soul does not reach their heart and soul.

Tuesday evening saw the American presidential debate. Two people offering visions for America. It was pretty clear to me what was at the heart and soul of the two and their vision. I hope it has the appropriate impact on those who will vote in the future.

Words matter and the language we use matters too. They can be used creatively or destructively. Minister’s of religion are often referred to as minister’s of the word. This comes from a Greek word that occurs more than 300 times in the New Testament alone. The word is “Logos”. Now traditional trinitarian Christians would see Logos as meaning Jesus Christ, the classic example being in John 1 v 1 and the following line “In the beginning was the word and word was with God and the word was God.”. I don’t believe this is the case. Logos is used in a variety of ways, throughout the Bible. They follow two basic lines of thought though. One is mind and the products of the mind, such as reason, logic is related to logos. The other is an expression of that reason as a word, like a command. Here are some of the examples:

Account, appearance, book, command, conversation, eloquence, flattery, grievance, heard, instruction, matter, message, ministry, news, proposal, question, reason, reasonable, reply, report, rule, rumor, said, say, saying, sentence, speaker, speaking, speech, stories, story, talk, talking, teaching, testimony, thing, things, this, truths, what, why, word and words.

There is something Divine and creative in the way we use words; when spoken in the right way they can be Divine in activity, they do at least if they are spoken with loving and creative extent. The Sufi’s see an association with Divine creative power and words spoken from the Beloved’s lips. So, when you speak such words in love you are part of the Divine creativity. Here is an example from Sana’i

The souls of all the lovers
are mobilized before Your lips;
With You, they are all and everything:
devoid of Your lips, they are nothing.

It matters how we speak what we create with our lips. Our words will become our actions and they certainly speak of our intent. The relationship between and action in an honourable existence is what Hannah Arendt examined throughout her book “The Human Condition” (published in 1958). She wrote:

“With word and deed we insert ourselves into the human world, and this insertion is like a second birth, in which we confirm and take upon ourselves the naked fact of our original physical appearance. This insertion is not forced upon us by necessity, like labor, and it is not prompted by utility, like work. It may be stimulated by the presence of others whose company we may wish to join, but it is never conditioned by them; its impulse springs from the beginning which came into the world when we were born and to which we respond by beginning something new on our own initiative. To act, in its most general sense, means to take an initiative, to begin (as the Greek word archein, “to begin,” “to lead,” and eventually “to rule,” indicates), to set something into motion (which is the original meaning of the Latin agere).”

We create or destroy life through our words and actions, Our meaning, our purpose our love and hate are shown through them. Hopefully this comes through, this is articulated, what is at the heart and soul, even if at times our words and actions can be clumsy, even if we stumble through our words and deeds from time to time. What really matters is our intent, what is our meaning our true logos.

The language we use says a lot about our meaning both personally and culturally. Those who study language learn a great deal about humanity by the way we use words and the emotions those words carry with them. They speak of the meaning as a “Frame”. That these frames are mental structures that shape the way we view the world. The way we see the world affects how we act in the world. Now of course we cannot see these frames they exist at all almost unconscious level. Certain words and language fire us up, they activate an aspect of our brain, almost unconsciously.

What matter is our intent, the meaning beneath what we say. How we articulate that matters. I hope I am making sense today. I hope you can understand my meaning, the meaning in my words, my Logos.

I am reminded here of a joke I once heard about a preacher.

There car had broken down after the Sunday service. Come Monday morning, the Reverend managed to drive the vehicle to the town’s one garage for repairs. “I hope you’ll go easy on the cost,” he told the mechanic. “After all, I’m just a poor preacher.” “I know,” came the reply. “I heard you preach yesterday.”

I hope there is value in the words I preach, even if it is not articulated perfectly.

The ability to speak publicly is a vital tool of ministry, so if a minister loses their voice or ability to speak their effectiveness would be seriously compromised. Well just this did happen to one of the two father’s of British Unitarianism, Joseph Priestley. For many years Dr Priestley struggled with a stammer.

I have a personal affection for Priestley, which has nothing much to do with his actual achievements. No, I have affection for Priestley because he comes from Birstall, in West Yorkshire, where I grew up and he attended Batley Grammar School, where I went. There the comparisons end I’m afraid. I have never been a leading radical, politically and I have never been particularly scientifically minded. That said thankfully I have never suffered from a stammer. I wonder sometimes what Priestley’s accent would have been like. No doubt very different to a man from Birstall these days (B’still as a local would pronounce it)

Joseph Priestley struggled with a stammer for years. It must have been terribly difficult to preach with such an impediment. He did overcome it as it did not affect his later career. That said it did cause him much distress although, as he said, it saved him from being “seduced by the love of popular applause as a preacher”.

My tradition lays great emphasis on the word and the preaching of it. Ok today we may not place authority at the door of scripture, this has been replaced by the conscience of the individual. That said the preached word, articulated correctly is still central to our worship.

Is this though the most important element?

Many people can speak well and articulately. I myself have had some training, but I know I will never be perfect and absolutely clear. I do not wish to be. I need to remain true to who I am, to speak my truth in love and in a language that hopefully others will understand.

To truly minister people need to hear what my heart and soul has to say. I need to speak the language of the heart, but not from someone else’s book of life and experiences. No! These experiences must come from my own; otherwise how can I expect others to relate to what I have to say.

I hope that by continually speaking my truth in love I am able to encourage others to do likewise and that they in turn continue to speak their truth in love. I trust you can understand my intent, my meaning, my logos. I hope that by sharing my truth in love I encourage you to do the same. To me this is the purpose of worship to help you speak and act your truth in love. To me this is what this is all about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let us be lit up by that living flame.

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

I am a Universalist, Universalist, Universalist: I Believe in a Hope that Helps

I received a message from a friend the other day asking if her son Luke could speak with me. We have met a couple of times before. He is an interesting young man. This time he wanted to discuss some ideas for an essay he wanted to explore, he is studying theology and philosophy. The essay was on theologian John Hick and his views on who Jesus was. Looking at ideas around God and the incarnation, as well as some 12 spirituality principles around the search for a God or Higher Power of your own understanding, that he wanted to discuss with me. I decided to give it a day to think about as I remembered my time when training for the ministry. It had been a long time since I had read John Hick. He called me on the Saturday afternoon.

It was a wonderful conversation. It stimulated me immensely and got me thinking about my own beliefs and doubts about so many things. How I apply these to my life and how they impact on myself and those I interact with. It was also an opportunity to articulate my own understanding of this our free religious tradition, there are many misconceptions. Luke thought we Unitarians had only been around since the 1960’s. He had done a little research on the internet and I assume he must have discovered something about the formation of the Unitarian Universalists in America, who came together to form one denomination in the 1960’s. I explained that Unitarian thoughts and ideas have been around certainly since the Reformation and actually since the time of Jesus, if not before. I talked about Joseph Priestley. Luke had attended Priestley college in Warrington and studied philosophy and religion but knew nothing of him as a radical minister. I explained it was the same for me. I grew up under his shadow, there is a statue of him in the village of Birstall where we both grew up, but we only knew him as a scientist when we were at school.

Luke wanted to talk about the ideas of John Hick and his views on who Jesus had believed he was. How this seemed to tie in with classic Unitarian thinking. This gave me an opportunity to explain my understanding of this our faith tradition. How it is today and historically of course. I explained that while originally we were none Trinitarians, that we focused on Jesus as a man whose example ought to be followed rather than the unique incarnation of God on earth. I then explained though that actually this isn’t the key principle. The key, as I see it, and this has been the case throughout this traditions history, is where authority lies. That we are none subscribers that we make no statement of faith that folk who worship in our communities must follow, but also that authority for Unitarians lays in their own honest reflection on their own conscience, that it is for each of us to seek our own truth. That we do this in community with others, knowing that more can be gained by coming together. Luke noted that this idea of seeking our own truth was very similar to 12 step philosophy and the beliefs of John Hick, I agreed with him.

What is distinctive of the Unitarian tradition is the idea of authority being in the enlightened conscience. This is distinct from Catholicism where authority is within the church structure, and general Protestantism, where authority lies in the Bible. For Unitarians it lies in the enlightened conscience. Now of course this does require a belief in humanity, that the enlightened conscience can be trusted. I quoted that wonderful nineteenth century Unitarian theologian James Martineau as we chatted.

The incarnation is true not of Christ exclusively but of Man universally and God everlastingly. He bends into the human to dwell there and humanity is the susceptible organ of the divine.

I had a great conversation with Luke. He told me when he next comes home he would like to come and check out some services. I told him he would be most welcome. He thought I was helping him, when in truth he was helping me a great deal. Thank you.

I had another conversation that weekend with another friend. They are also exploring spirituality but have a fear of community. They would prefer to explore alone as they somewhat concerned about getting sucked into something that they didn’t trust. They have some misgivings about organised religion. They quoted the classic at me saying, “Religion is for people who are afraid to go to Hell whereas spirituality is for people who have already been there.” We talked for some time, and I spoke of my own Unitarian tradition and tried to explain that this view of religion is not entirely accurate. I spoke a little of the need for community and how this enhances one’s personal spirituality and that this can be achieved without dogma. I spoke specifically about Universalism and how they were even known as “The No Hellers”.

Both conversations got me thinking about the free religious tradition I am a part of and also my feelings of faith etc, how I identify my own beliefs. I had recently returned from our annual meetings, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I am also becoming more involved in helping to develop ministers in the future. We will have a student minister with us Janine Sim from September, I have also been invited to participate in “Ministry in the Making” which was created to help support ministers in training and those new to professional ministry. It has been good to reflect on why I am a Unitarian and why I became a Unitarian minister.

I celebrate the beautiful diversity of our free tradition. For I know that those who I congregate with do not all believe and disbelieve the same. Within our free religious tradition each congregation is linked through a wider denomination named “The General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Christian Churches”. There is no ruling body, and no one has authority over anyone else. Each congregation is self-governing and each member of the congregation is free to believe as their conscience dictates. We are closely connected to other similar denominations throughout the world. In America the denomination is called Unitarian Universalists. Which is essentially two denominations that came together as one in the early 1960’s. They each have their own history.

I have over the years read much by many Unitarians and Universalist and have found that I actually seem to connect, spiritually at least, more with Universalist than the Unitarians. So much so that a few years ago I declared myself as a Universalist. A Unitarian friend asked me “What kind of Universalist I was?” I paused and thought for a moment and then I answered “I am a Universalist, Universalist”. I remembered at the time they looked at me as if I were a little mad, this is not the first time this has happened. So, I explained that I was a Universalist in the old sense. I do not believe in hell and damnation. That the God of my limited understanding would never condemn anyone to an eternity in Hell; I do not believe that some are saved and others are unsaved. I believe that God has an intimate love for all, that if there is a hell it is a state of being that can be experienced within life. I talked about the "Prodigal Son" parable, and I also spoke of my belief that this love is always there waiting for us. I also said that I was a universalist in a more modern understanding too in that I see truth in so many other traditions. That none can reveal the whole truth, that they are windows that let some of the light through. I also talked of a belief in the interconnectedness of all life and that all that happens and does not happen matters. That divinity is present within everything, a kind of Universal Love I suppose. So I am a Universalist in three senses at least. That life is diverse and ever evolving. I remembered that beautiful banner I once carried at Manchester Pride “Unitarians Celebrate the Diversity of All Creation”. This is the beauty of life, its diversity.

Today I declare that I am a Universalist, Universalist, Universalist, I believe in a Hope that helps.

I remember a few years ago hearing a joke about the difference between the nineteenth century Unitarians and the Universalist. It is said that the Unitarians believed that humanity was too good to be rejected by God where as the Universalists believed that God was too good to ever reject humanity.

I am a Universalist. I am a "Universalist, Universalist, Universalist!"

I believe in and experience a God of Love who accepts all and rejects none; is present in all life and yet is greater than the entirety of it all. I also believe that there are many ways to understand and experience this Universal Love; it makes no sense to me to think that there can be only one way. Universalism has given me a code of hopefulness that I can live by. It sustains me through the vicissitudes of life and it connects me to the whole of reality.

Universalism speaks to my head, my heart and above all my soul. It has enabled me to observe and fully participate in life, to bear witness to what we do to each other and ourselves. It helps me come to terms with my past and my present and look forward to the future. It helps me connect to the people I have and currently share my life with. It enables me to live fully alive.

Universalism is a hope filled faith, but that does not make it an easy path. It is not about sitting back and waiting to be rescued by the God of love it promotes. Instead it declares that salvation, in this life, can only be achieved by facing up to the suffering present in all our lives and dealing directly with the despair that accompanies it. It's also about bringing hope to those in despair and to truly sing the joy of living.

As one of the founding fathers of Universalism, John Murray, so beautifully put it in the eighteenth century

“You may possess only a small light, but uncover it, let it shine, use it in order to bring more light and understanding to the hearts and minds of men and women. Give them not Hell, but hope and courage. Do not push them deeper into their theological despair, but preach the kindness and everlasting love of God.”

Whenever I feel despair both with myself or with the rest of humanity, which I do from time to time, I try to remember these words by the Universalist preacher John Murray. I feel a deep connection and purpose in life and through life. In so doing I experience the truth that everything matters, every thought, every feeling, every word and every deed. For love is both eternal and universal.

As we live our lives in this our shared world it is important to remember to widen our views and deepen our experiences, increasing our awareness that all life touches way beyond our horizons, not just directly those that we come into contact with, but with so many others also, often indirectly. In so doing we can welcome the wanderer to find their way back home and we will begin to repair the fragmentations of life and develop deeper intimacy. In so doing may we find our place among the family of things. May we all find ourselves safe and in love and here at home.

I am glad I found a home amongst the Unitarians all those years ago. I am grateful that it led me to this work, which I do imperfectly. I have had the opportunity to reflect much these last couple of years. I have learned so much serving the two communities and to some degree the wider denomination and I look forward to many years of this wonderful privilege. Yes. I am Unitarian minister. I am because I believe in the capacity of the human conscience to seek what is true. I believe in the teachings of Jesus as an example to us all, of what we can all be. I also believe there is a deep truth in so many other traditions. Yes, I am also a Universalist, for I believe in the eternal and universal love of God, that there is that of God in each of us. I also believe that there is so much truth yet to revealed. This cannot be discovered in isolation, we need to come together in love, to congregate. All life is interconnected. I celebrate it in it’s beautiful diversity.

So yes I am proud to be Unitarian minister, but I am equally at ease describing myself as a Universalist, Universalist, Universalist. How about you?

Perhaps that is something to think about over the next few days. How would you articulate your faith if you were to find yourself in similar conversations to me. Have a think about it this week.

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

Hope not Despair: Coming into the peace of things

This piece was originally day after Jo Cox's murder as I visited home, in shock, to bare witness to the scene...

"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.

Like Wendell Berry we all feel despair at the world at times. We all fear for our own lives, our loved ones and the lives of others. This is something common to the whole of humanity, something that unites us all. No life is immune from suffering. I have experienced such moments these last couple of weeks, as I have been recovering from surgery. I have had to spend much time alone as company has been too exhausting. This has not been easy for an active man such as I. It has been deeply uncomfortable at times, but I know in so doing my soul has opened up and I have grown. In the pain and suffering I have found the peace that passeth all understanding and if truth be told the suffering has not turned to despair.

One of the darkest moments was a week last Sunday as I stood in silent suffering in the market square of the village where I had grown up. I stood there in Priestley’s shadow weeping with many others. I grew up in the village of Birstall, in West Yorkshire. Birstall was not known to most of the world until a couple of weeks ago, but sadly now the world does know its name. Birstall of course was the scene of the brutal murder of the M.P. Jo Cox. Murdered because she served and loved all of her people, which in the eyes of some is somehow treachery.

The tributes in the market place were beautiful, all gathered around the statue of Joseph Priestley. The Unitarian minister and scientist who himself was chased out of England for his beliefs. His home and laboratory were destroyed by a baying mob.

I walked away from Birstall market place heart broken. They say home is where the heart is. Well this is home and it feels broken, my heart is broken. I walked away and wanted and needed to be alone. I thought of Wendell Berry’s poem I too wanted to come into the peace of wild things. I didn’t have the energy to be with people, even loved ones. I needed to be alone. I need to feel this horror and suffering and to come to terms with this awful destruction of love. So I went off alone, low on energy, in physical discomfort and pain, and I just wept.

Now what has followed since and caused me to weep more and more. I have found much that I have witnessed and heard since hard to take as people have torn one another apart. As division has risen and as hate has grown. Some of the things I have seen on the news and some of the things I have heard from people I know personally has broken my heart again and again and again and all I could do was sit silently and try and take it in, struggling to come into the peace of anything. There does seem to be so much turmoil and division about everywhere.

Now of course this is nothing new, it’s been going on for a long, long, time. The human capacity to Love and to create knows no bounds. That said the human capacity to Hate and destroy knows no bounds similarly.

As the days have passed I have continued to sit in the silence, alone, hoping against hope to come into to the peace of something. As I did other words came into my heart. I thought of Viktor Frankl and “Man’s Search for Meaning” and his equation that D=S-M that despair is suffering without meaning. I thought of Jo Cox herself and her legacy. I thought of her words during her maiden speech in the House of Commons, her belief that there is more that unites us than divides us. I thought of what I have learnt during my life, that hope is born from despair. That in these ashes of all our hearts that love and hope can rise again, but it is up to us. I thought of the beautiful words of Margaret Kirk’s Meditation "Something there is that doesn't love a wall". That bridges between difference can be made. That we are all the same people, all of the same earth, born under the same sun. That we can live together as one. It is up to us though. We are responsible. It is up to us to create meaning from the ashes of suffering. It is up to us to bring healing in our lives, in the lives of those around and to the wider human community. We are responsible, every single one of us. For everything matters. Every feeling, every thought, every word and every deed.

Below is Margaret Kirk's Meditation mentioned above...

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall” by Rev Margaret Kirk

We see barriers erected between people of different lands,
We see sheets of steel and towers of concrete called Protection.
We see boundaries policed,
watch men, women and children running from hunger and persecution,
looking for a gap in the wall………

Something there is that doesn't love a wall…………

We see walls of fear –
Fear of the young, fear of the stranger,
Fear of sexuality that is different, fear of the educated, fear of the poor,
Fear of the Muslim, fear of the Jew –
Fear upon fear, endless and perpetuating,
And we offer our silent prayer that solid walls of fear will crumble to dust.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall…………

We hear the language of separation,
The jingoistic chant, the racial slur,
words of indifference and dismissal,
words arranged for the purpose of exclusion,
words that sting and taunt,
words that lie.
Let us find words that ring with love and truthfulness,
that reach out through the emptiness of separation.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall…………

We see the deluded barriers of the mind protecting self,
We see relationships stripped of affection
as one person becomes closed to another.
We see people trapped in misunderstanding,
old hurts re-ignited,
bricks placed higher on the wall,
goodwill and trust suspended.
and we ask for boundaries that are not impenetrable,
through which light can shine and distance be dissolved.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall………….

And when we need these boundaries for our own well being,
Let us know them for what they are,
Use them wisely and kindly,
Recognising our own vulnerability and that of others –
So each of us can find the space for retreat and succour,
find that peace that passes all understanding
and be renewed with strength and love
for the task of living life joyfully in communion with all others.

...A beautiful poem...A heartbreaking poem...

There are moments in every single one of our lives, when darkness seemingly over comes us. We all experience tragedy, loss, bereavement, rejection and failure. No one can avoid this. There is no wall we can build around ourselves that will protect us from this. In fact if we do build up such walls all that we will achieve is to cut ourselves off from the love and the joy present in life. This leads to the worst kind of suffering, the suffering within the suffering, hopeless despair. It leads to nothingness.

This despair, this nothingness often turns to blame, to pointing the finger, to scapegoating to hatred of the other who we see as being somehow different to us. There seems to be a growing tide of this at the moment. Whether that be against people from other parts of the country, other sections of society, other genders, religions, sexualities, nationalities, colour of skin, even other age groups. The young not trusting and blaming the elderly and the elderly not trusting and blaming the young. This helps no one and it just makes things worse.

So what can we do? How do we build bridges of love between those divisions in our lives and our own communities? How do we bring light into the darkening aspects of life? How do we bring the light of Hope into the darkening shadows of despair? How do we ensure that the light shines in the darkness and that the darkness does not overcome it? Well by becoming the light of the world and letting that light shine from our being. This is how we bring Hope to life and light. This is where meaning will grow from the ashes of despair. This is what I remembered as I came to the peace of everything, alone and in the silence. In this silence that still small voice of calm seemed to speak to me in a voice that was somehow more than silence and yet less than a whisper. I remembered also why I had become a minister of religion in the first place, that too had been born from personal loss and suffering. I remembered how my heart had been broken many times before and I remembered all the many broken hearted and broken people I have known in my time ministering to the communities I serve and how they too had come to life once again in their grief and suffering. My heart was filled once again and courage began to rise within me.

Hope had risen from the ashes of suffering...There was no despair...

Like Wendell Berry we all feel despair at the world at times. We all fear for our own lives, our loved ones and the lives of others. We all seek to come into the peace of something. We can find that peace. I know this to be true and when the peace comes, provided we do not close down or close in, hope can once again come to life and we can begin to bring healing not only in our lives, but in the lives of those around us stretching out to the wider reaches of this our shared world. We cannot avoid suffering, but we can give birth to meaning in that suffering in the way that we live our lives. We need not despair, we can live in hope, we can live in love. We can heal what separates us from one another. 

We can live in love. In all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do.

I’m going to end this "Blogspot" with these adapted words by Sidney L. Freeman, which my friend Jane Blackall recently shared...

'Only a few things wear the mark of the eternal:
the giving we have invested in others,
the love we have expressed in deeds,
the kindness we have shown, the work
we have done because we loved it,
the light we have shown that others may not stumble,
the evil we turned into good because we saw
that none of us lives apart,
but all are members one of another.'

My Story

Below is the a piece for the National Unitarian Fellowship's "Viewpoint" Issue 224. I thought I add it to my blog for those who do not receive "Viewpoint"...

I did not have a particularly religious upbringing. As a teenager I cannot claim to have been anti-religious either, I just didn’t see its relevance. I have always been interested in ideas, religious ones being one of many. That said from the age of 11, until my late twenties, I was more interested in political and perhaps philosophical ideas than anything else. Religion just seemed old hat, something from the past.

I grew up in the village of Birstall, in West Yorkshire. In the market square is a statue of Joseph Priestley. Priestley is one of the two founding fathers of British Unitarianism. He was also a major figure in its development in America. I attended the same school that he did, Batley Grammar. Of course we all knew about him but as a scientist, but not as a radical minister of religion. I never once remember any mention of this, as we were growing up. Although perhaps it was mentioned and the reason that it failed to register with me was because I just was not interested. We knew of Priestley the scientist, the man who discovered oxygen and invented soda water...or as we would often say “The man who invented oxygen”.

Throughout most of my life I had very little interest in religion. I was an agnostic who was verging on atheism, although I never quite took the leap of absolute disbelief. My late teens and early twenties were a mixture of hedonism, dark music and left wing politics. I was in a band and we thought we were going to change the world, oh the arrogance of youth. Meanwhile I worked in the civil service. In my mid twenties I came to Manchester and gained a degree in Politics and Modern History and soon after started work as a free-lance historian. It was during this time that Mr Priestley reared his head once again, due to his political radicalism. I hasten to add that even then I paid no attention to his religion.

This all began to change between the years 2002 and 2004 as things changed within me and my experiences of life external to me. This was brought on by my acceptance of and recovery from alcoholism. It was around this time that I began to experience what I know today as God. I had a life changing spiritual experience, I can think of no better way of describing what happened. As a result I began to explore different religions and spiritual groups. I discovered Unitarianism, almost by accident really, but became immediately interested. I soon discovered that there were congregations locally and after a bit more research I began attending Cross Street Chapel, in Manchester.

I can still remember the first service I attended, led by Rev John Midgley, it spoke powerfully to me. I also remember the warmth of the greeting that the handful of folk in attendance extended to me. I can still feel Peter Sampson's handshake as he passed me the hymn book, and gently spoke to me.

I enjoyed every aspect of congregational life; getting to know people first within the congregation and eventually further afield. I spent months bending John’s ear about everything, as I did with most people. I joined the choir and an R.E. group and just became part of the place. I felt cared for, I felt loved and I felt welcomed.

Hospitality has to be the key to true religion, in practice. One of my favourite hymns is “All Are Welcome Here” it reads “All are welcome here...all are welcome to seek in spite of fear...to open wide to all our hearts...for all are welcome here.” To me this is the whole point of religion, to build communities of love that encourage that search for understanding and meaning, that search beyond the confines of our limited individual selves. I have certainly found that to be true of my chosen Unitarian faith, at its best at least; it encourages each of us as individuals to continue that search but to do so together, unconstrained. I felt welcomed and I was listened to during my time at Cross Street. I found a religious community where I could be myself, but not in isolation; I am certain I would not, could not have discovered so much alone. I did not realise then just how much I would need that community...

I was at work on Thursday morning, November 2nd 2006 to be precise, when I received a phone call from my dearest friend Claire. She told me her son Ethan had been killed on his way to school. I immediately left and went to Manchester Royal Infirmary. I loved Claire and Ethan more than anybody in the world, but today is not a time to talk about that. John my minister came to the hospital to be with us and the family and held us in prayer over Ethan’s broken little body. He was there for us over the next few months. I will never forget all that he did.

I left the hospital later that day and felt utterly alone and lost. Claire had gone with her family and Luke (Ethan’s dad) had gone with his family. John also had to go. So what did I do? Well the first thing I did was pray. That was not enough though I needed to be with people. So I rang up some of the Cross Street folk. Well several of them just happened to be up at our Oldham Chapel, I made my way there and spent the rest of the day with these people. They listened to me, fed me and looked after me. This continued over the next months and year really as I came to terms with everything, while attempting to be there for Claire. The people of my community were able to be there, in an unobtrusive manner while I came to terms with the horrors of all that had happened. I took some time off work and spent a lot of time with these different people. They loved me when I really needed it. I do not believe I would have come through it on my own. I am sure I would have survived I am just not so sure I would have done so without hardening my heart. They helped me keep my heart open.

It was coming to terms with all of this that drew me into ministry. I wanted to be part of and to attempt to build a community of loving compassion, of true hospitality that attempts to hold people and allow them to be who they really are in every aspect of life. At least that was and is my ambition.

I have now been with the good folk of Altrincham and Urmston for two years now and I feel that we have got to know one another quite well. From the outset I made it a priority of mine to spend time talking, but above all else listening, to them. During the worship we have shared I have encouraged openness by allowing them to get to know me. Worship for me must always be speak the language of the heart and not just feed the intellect. This may well have been a challenge for some folk, but was a deliberate decision on my part in an attempt to give those present permission to be open with me. I have pretty much spent time with everyone connected with both congregations, visiting them in their own homes and talking with them about many things. This has been a real treasure to me, personally. We have some real gems hidden away in our congregations. I cannot begin to express how deeply moved I have been by what people have shared with me. Virtually every conversation has been littered with moving stories of love, of pain, of grief and of faith. I have heard some of the most incredible tales of personal spiritual experience, something I have interest in. I have rarely left someone’s home without feeling that my life has been enhanced by the time we have just shared. I have felt welcomed into the lives of the people within both communities and for that I am profoundly grateful.

“Listen with the ear of your heart”, has become one of my mantras over the last few months. It comes from “The Rule of Benedict” a set of ancient principles for monastic orders, followed by many Christian and some Buddhist communities today. The foundation of the rule is listening, deep attentive listening. It begins, “listen carefully, my child, to the instructions...and attend to them with the ear of your heart “. What is required is deep listening, a concept proposed, in contemporary times, by the Dalai Lama.

This has become the foundation of my ministry, to “listen with the ear of my heart” and to encourage that in others. Of course I often fall short of this mark as I get wrapped up in many things, some important but many trivial. That is ok though, one of my other mantras is “progress not perfection”.

The reason I came into ministry is to keep open my own heart and to encourage others to do likewise.

Unitarian College Manchester recently asked me to answer the following question, in just a couple of sentences.

“What aspect(s) of your training or time at UCM has made the most significant or positive contribution to your work as a Unitarian minister?”

A difficult question and this is what I finally came up with.

“For me it has been about finding and refinding my voice. This happened throughout my training, where I continually found myself forming and reforming, while discovering ways to articulate this. This was difficult at times, but I know it has shaped me for the better."

My journey into ministry has been about finding and refinding my voice.

I now look back fondly on my early days of training, but at the time it was a struggle. I was thrown into several unfamiliar environments, while at the same time I had lost the security of my home congregation at Cross Street. The first few months were very painful as I struggled with my identity. I felt quite exposed and vulnerable at times. Everything I said and did seemed to be under scrutiny. It was tough, but then again so it should be. Thank God for prayer. It held me and it sustained me throughout this period, has it has for many years.

I had to go through this in order to discover and rediscover who I was. I had to examine and re-examine my faith and learn to articulate it. I also had to really listen to what others were saying, to know where they were coming from, to respect them as they were and to learn how to communicate with them. I had to find ways to walk in their shoes, while still remaining true to me.

The first few months were the most challenging, but by the Christmas of my first year things began to change. I found my voice. I was able to be myself and was able to begin to communicate this to others with more confidence. I felt increasingly at ease and less nervous and was able to speak my truth in love. I became less defensive and precious about my personal religious convictions. Put simply I began to loosen up. I found my voice.

The Unitarian tradition lays great emphasis on the word and the preaching of it. Ok today we may not place authority at the door of scripture, this has been replaced by the conscience of the individual. That said the preached word, articulated correctly is still central to our worship. Is this though the most important element?

Many people can speak well and articulately. I myself have had some training, but I know I will never be perfect and absolutely clear. I do not wish to be. I need to remain true to who I am, to speak my truth in love and in a language that hopefully others will understand. To truly minister people need to hear what my heart and soul has to say. I need to speak the language of the heart, but not from someone else’s book of life and experiences. No! These experiences must come from my own; otherwise how can I expect others to relate to what I have to say.

I hope that by continually finding my voice I am able to encourage others to do likewise and that they in turn continue to speak their truth in love. Isn’t that what ministry is all about?

Although I am a Unitarian minister I find myself being increasingly drawn to Universalism, in both its traditional and modern incarnations. I have fallen in love with the writing of Forrest Church. His “Cathedral of the World” metaphor speaks powerfully to me about how we experience the Divine.

Forrest asks us to imagine the whole of humanity standing under the ceiling of the cathedral of the world. Around this cathedral are millions of stained glass windows. There is a light outside of the cathedral shinning through all of the windows; this is the light of truth, the light of God. No one inside is able to stare at the light directly, we all see it passing through a stained glass window. Each of the windows distorts the light in some way; they only allow some of the light to pass through. Sometimes the light is refracted, by the tinted windows and occasionally it is blocked by the opaque aspects of each window. In some places the light is almost completely obscured.

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

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

I think it is important to accept that none of us ever glimpses the whole truth, no matter which window we are looking through. What is required is humility; genuine humility that teaches that we humans cannot know and understand everything. This is a good thing, because by genuinely accepting this we are opened up to a myriad of possibility that we probably believed were way beyond our capacity to experience.

The epistle Paul hints at this in his letter to the Corinthians (1ch 13), those beautiful words on love and charity. Here Paul gets to the very nature of humility when he says, “for now we see through a glass darkly”. He is making the point that even when our knowledge and understanding is not perfect, which I suspect, it never can be, we cannot go wrong if we follow love and charity as a guide. Love and charity are universal principles shinning through virtually every one of the windows that the light is pouring through, it seems that the only ones not preaching it are the ones who are trying to throw rocks through the windows that others experience the light through.

The light of Universalism continues to speak powerfully to me. The concept of one light and many windows that my great hero Forrest Church spoke so beautifully about, keeps me humble and therefore open. I accept that I will never know the absolute truth about everything or even anything and that this enables me to experience life in a way I could never have imagined. The one light of God or truth is reflected through a variety of windows, which none of us can see directly or perfectly.

Universalism’s message of hope, of the everlasting love of God, also speaks to me. It brings Psalm 139 powerfully to the fore of my thinking, nothing and no one is beyond the reach of this eternal love. The dark and the light are both the same to this eternal love. We cannot escape it completely; we cannot flee from the range and reach of this eternal and universal love.

It is so easy to look at our world and just despair and give in and say we are doomed and lost in our own darkness. It is so easy to see life this way. Is this true though are we lost in despair? Is there no hope?

Tom Owen-Towle’s “The Gospel of Universalism: Hope, Courage and the Love of God” has helped me to understand that hope and despair share the same root, that they are joined together like Siamese twins. In the French language they share the same linguistic root; hope (espair) and despair (desespair).

To live in hope, to live in faith that we all have that light etched into our DNA, is not to deny life’s difficulties and pain. Instead it is to see the realities of who and what we are and what our true potential can be, if we just nurture it correctly. All we have to do is let that light shine that is there within us all. This sounds simple, but it is far from easy. It requires consistent effort to allow that natural compassion to grow, develop and nurture. We have to do it though because otherwise the other parts of ourselves take over and we turn with indifference from life. The opposite of hope is not despair, it is indifference.

Last Autumn I was invited to participate in the 16thanniversary celebration of the Unitarian church of Maros St George, which is linked to Dunham road Unitarian Chapel Altrincham. During my visit there were three moments that touched my heart, which I would like to share with you here.

The first moment came towards the end of a day visiting several Unitarian communities in the region. It was in a small village called Icland - there is no other settlement in region whose name ends in land, the story goes that it was originally settled by people from Ireland or England – I walked up the hill towards the parish house and settled into a little schoolroom with a few adults and two teenage girls. For some reason images of Thomas Hardy novels came to mind as my eyes passed over the scene, none of the houses had running water, everyone had a well. The minister led a short religious education class; I was deeply moved by the conversation which followed, translated by my co-host Anna Maria. They talked about their struggles with the current economic climate and the importance of letting go of control and not becoming blocked off from God. The words of the serenity prayer came to my mind “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference” – if only we could all find the wisdom the know the difference. I was able to participate in the conversation; we spoke deep into one another's hearts. I left these people with the thought that I will probably never see them again, but also knowing that this dialogue would be etched on my soul for a long time to come. During the discussion I had I felt the presence of the spirit that I call God powerfully. I can picture the woman Elizabeth in my mind’s eye as she talked openly and eloquently of her struggles with life and faith...I had ears that could hear the language that she spoke, the language of the heart.

The next day we visited Tirgu Mures looking at local sites and spent some time in the Cultural Palace. I had noticed that I had struggled a little due to lack of space; I am someone who is use to a lot of time and space alone. I live a very busy life but do connect and reconnect alone, throughout the day. I could feel that I was missing this. I was able to sit quietly in the cultural palace, in the main auditorium. I looked up at the ceiling, which was incredible, and the space below in silence. After a while I began to hear the sounds of an orchestra and choir practising. I began to feel the beauty of the place and in the space and quietness I felt some barriers drop...it opened my heart and I was then able to connect to the heart of the place throughout the rest of the day...I can feel the gentle music now, it was barely a sound but something more than silence.

On the Saturday I was invited to preach and participate in Maros St George's anniversary service. Press had been invited. There was apparently a great deal of talk about mine and Carolyn’s visit. By now I was feeling a part of everything. I had got a real feel for the spirit of the place. It was beginning to really speak to me. I had learnt an important phrase for the Transylvanian’s this is Isten Aldjo, which means God bless. It is both a greeting and a farewell. I decided as people arrived I would greet them at the door, with these words. I was told afterwards that they thought that they had been greeted by a Hungarian and not an Englishman, as I spoke like a Hungarian. This meant a lot to me as I felt that I had now got truly into the spirit of the place. It was wonderful to participate in the service, to sing hymns in Hungarian and to be invited to preach, with Tamas, the minister, translating. I opened up my heart and I felt their love too. I also felt and witnessed the spirit that I know as God, flowing through all of this...less than a whisper, but somehow more than silence.

It was a wonderful and wonder filled trip, one I will reflect on for a long time to come. The language of the heart is a universal language that can break through any barrier, even fear and self protection. All that it requires is a little bit of faith and a whole lotta love; all that is required are ears that can listen and wisdom to know the difference...I’ve had a wonderful reminder of this during my time with Unitarian brothers and sisters in Transylvania.

It still amazes me how I am constantly discovering meaning, seemingly from nothing.

A few months ago Rev Jane Barraclough asked me to lead the Wednesday lunchtime service at Cross Street Chapel, seemingly no meaning there. A few days before the service it dawned on me that it was exactly seven years ago to the day that I had first entered Cross street chapel on a cold Wednesday lunchtime. Just a beautiful bit of synchronicity, or at least I saw it that way.

It was a wonderful and wonder filled day that seemed so rich in meaning. I loved listening to the little conversations on the tram on my way to Manchester. I enjoyed my walk around the city, watching all the people going about their business. I felt so connected, so in harmony with what was going on. Every snippet of conversation I overheard seemed to be addressed directly to me.

After the service I met a friend for coffee and shared what I’d been experiencing. I told her how I felt so excited and alive and that I seemed to be seeing meaning in everything. She looked at me and said “really, I see little meaning in anything; I’m pretty much sceptical about everything.” It made me pause and it also reminded me of the man I was just a few years ago. I saw little meaning in anything; I was pretty much sceptical about everything.

The conversation has been on my mind ever since. I saw no meaning because I was asleep to meaning it would seem. I was suffering from a kind of colour blindness and tone deafness. Something inside was locked in and therefore I could not experience all that I can today and as a result I denied the possibility that there could be a deeper richer meaning. My rational reflection on my experiences back then revealed nothingness and yet my rational reflections, on my current experiences, reveal a life that is rich in meaning. I hear music where I could not before; I see a myriad of colour that in the past was only grey; I experience that under lying meaning that was just an empty void in the past.

But what is meaning? And can it be discovered in what many see as the emptiness of life?

In “Man’s Search For Meaning” Viktor Frankl gives an account of his struggle to hold on to meaning while imprisoned in the Nazi death camps of the Second World War. He lost most of his family and friends in the camps and yet he never lost hope in humanity.

Frankl saw a spiritual dimension to human lives that went beyond the biological and psychological. He observed that the suppression of this transcendental quality was the root cause of our human malady. While imprisoned he developed what he named as “Logotherapy”. He believed that if we could unlock our “unconscious religiousness”, that we would liberate the spiritual dimensions of our lives and that this would enable us to recover the capacity to choose those values which give our lives worth and meaning.

Frankl claimed that meaning is discovered through creative and worthwhile activities and that even in the most horrific and terrifyingly hopeless situations we still have the capacity to choose our attitude towards whatever circumstances we are faced with. It is our response to life’s events that shapes our souls. As he himself said “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.”

I recently went to see the performance poet “Rodney Chris Paradox” during the show he told the story “Mr Pain”, which described a journey he had been on in search of meaning. It took him all over the world and came to an end in Mexico where he had an accident which led to him having half a leg amputated.

The poem describes how he developed immunity to pain killers. He is assigned a “pain team” who try every form of western medicine to fight off the excruciating agony, every attempt failed. He then called upon all he had learnt from all the eastern traditions, which again failed. Finally he screams out to God and enters the emptiness. Here in this place of nothingness he surrenders to the pain and accepts his lot. In this moment he was liberated from the agony, it no longer seemed to matter. By surrendering to it, it lost its power.

Everyone suffers pain in their lives and often there seems no justifiable reason for it. It just seems so unfair. None of us gets to choose our pain and suffering and none of us can avoid it. That said we can choose how we respond to it and pass those lessons on to one another. No one can take that away from us. It is perhaps our one and only true freedom. How we respond to life’s circumstances.

I have discovered that the real meaning in life emerges by trying to help others find meaning in their lives. This is why I became a minister of religion.

As a student minister I spent a year at our chapel in Oldham. Outside the chapel is a sign. It reads, “open to all who wish to worship with an open mind, in a spirit of freedom, reason and tolerance. We do not hold the same beliefs; rather each person is encouraged to develop his or her faith in a continuing search for truth.”

The Unitarian faith is ever evolving as we are evolving. It has its roots in the Liberal Christian Tradition, inspired by the life and teachings of Jesus. Our symbol, the chalice exemplifies this perfectly. It is a kind of cross, but an evolving one, with the flames reaching out much further to a place way beyond our imaginations.

My personal faith is firmly grounded in the concept of self giving love. This is found in the liberal Christian tradition, but it is not exclusive to it. It is a universal principle found in most of the faith traditions. A flame burning in the cup of love is deeply symbolic of the roots from which we were formed, but the flames seem to indicate something more, something eternal, something way beyond the limits of human vision. There is freedom in the flames, there is wisdom yet to be unearthed in those flames and they reach beyond the limits of our human imagination. All of this is held the solid foundation of the cup of love; the solid base that sustains us as we reach further, to who knows where.

This is religion in its truest sense, this searching together, this working together, and this giving together. Each individual Unitarian adds to that flame and also takes from it. It is this continual communal search and struggle that is the rock, or the cup on which the Unitarian free religious faith lives.

Finding Your Voice: Learning to speak the language of the heart

Unitarian College Manchester recently asked me to answer the following question, in just a couple of sentences.

“What aspect(s) of your training or time at UCM has made the most significant or positive contribution to your work as a Unitarian minister?”

A difficult question and this is what I finally came up with.

 “For me it has been about finding and refinding my voice. This happened throughout my training, where I continually found myself forming and reforming, while discovering ways to articulate this. This was difficult at times, but I know it has shaped me for the better."

My journey into ministry has been about finding and refinding my voice.

I now look back fondly on my early days of training, but at the time it was a struggle. I was thrown into several unfamiliar environments, while at the same time I had lost the security of my home congregation at Cross Street. The first few months were very painful as I struggled with my identity. I felt quite exposed and vulnerable at times. Everything I said and did seemed to be under scrutiny. It was tough, but then again so it should be. Thank God for prayer. It held me and it sustained me throughout this period, has it has for many years.

I had to go through this in order to discover and rediscover who I was. I had to examine and re-examine my faith and learn to articulate it. I also had to really listen to what others were saying, to know where they were coming from, to respect them as they were and to learn how to communicate with them. I had to find ways to walk in their shoes, while still remaining true to me.

The first few months were the most challenging, but by the Christmas of my first year things began to change. I found my voice. I was able to be myself and was able to begin to communicate this to others with more confidence. I felt increasingly at ease and less nervous and was able to speak my truth in love. I became less defensive and precious about my personal religious convictions. Put simply I began to loosen up. I found my voice.

The ability to speak publically is a vital tool of ministry, so if a minister loses their voice or ability to speak their effectiveness would be seriously compromised. Well just this did happen to one of the two father’s of British Unitarianism, Joseph Priestley.  For many years Dr Priestley struggled with a stammer.

I have a personal affection for Priestley, which has nothing much to do with his actual achievements. No I have affection for Priestley because he comes from Birstall, in West Yorkshire, where I grew up and he attended Batley Grammar School, where I went. There the comparisons end I’m afraid. I have never been a leading radical, politically and I have never been particularly scientifically minded.

The stammer has been brought into the public consciousness in recent times, due to the success of “The Kings Speech.” During the film King George VI struggles to overcome his stammer, with the help of a highly unconventional speech therapist. The treatment began long before he became King. In fact he was never expected to become the King at all. He never sought the limelight. He had little self confidence and no doubt his stammer contributed greatly to this. I am sure he would have been happy living the quiet life with his wife and two daughters. This though was not meant to be, as life events dictated otherwise, as they so often do. Following the death of his father and the abdication of his brother  he was thrown into the limelight and into a position that did not suit this quiet reserved individual.

The film portrayed how he came to terms with himself and his new life. He found his voice. It spoke powerfully to me in this respect as well as in the sense that it beautifully portrayed how we humans can overcome obstacles with courage and faith and the right kind of guidance.

Dr Priestley struggled with a stammer for years. It must have been terribly difficult to preach with such an impediment. Like the king he did overcome it as it did not affect his later career. That said it did cause him much distress although, as he said, it saved him from being “seduced by the love of popular applause as a preacher”

My tradition lays great emphasis on the word and the preaching of it. Ok today we may not place authority at the door of scripture, this has been replaced by the conscience of the individual. That said the preached word, articulated correctly is still central to our worship.

Is this though the most important element?

Many people can speak well and articulately. I myself have had some training, but I know I will never be perfect and absolutely clear. I do not wish to be. I need to remain true to who I am, to speak my truth in love and in a language that hopefully others will understand.

To truly minister people need to hear what my heart and soul has to say. I need to speak the language of the heart, but not from someone else’s book of life and experiences. No! These experiences must come from my own; otherwise how can I expect others to relate to what I have to say.

I hope that by continually finding my voice I am able to encourage others to do likewise and that they in turn continue to speak their truth in love.

Isn’t that what ministry is all about?

"What religion has done for me"

The following piece accompanies the blog on "Religion and Spirituality".Here are some thoughts on "What religion has done for me"

I did not have a particularly religious upbringing. As a teenager I cannot claim to have been anti-religious either, I just didn’t see its relevance. I have always been interested in ideas, religious ones being one of many. That said from the age of 11, until my late twenties, I was more interested in political and perhaps philosophical ideas than anything else. Religion just seemed old hat, something from the past.

I grew up in the village of Birstall, in West Yorkshire. In the market square is a statue of Joseph Priestley. Priestley is one of the two founding fathers of British Unitarianism. He was also a major figure in its development in America. I attended the same school that he did, Batley Grammar. Of course we all knew about him but as a scientist, but not as a radical minister of religion. I never once remember any mention of this, as we were growing up. Although perhaps it was mentioned and the reason that it failed to register with me was because I just was not interested. We knew of Priestley the scientist, the man who discovered oxygen and invented soda water...or as we would often say “The man who invented oxygen”.

Throughout most of my life I had very little interest in religion. I was an agnostic who was verging on atheism, although I never quite took the leap of absolute disbelief. My late teens and early twenties were a mixture of hedonism, dark music and left wing politics. I was in a band and we thought we were going to change the world, oh the arrogance of youth. Meanwhile I worked in the civil service. In my mid twenties I came to Manchester and gained a degree in Politics and Modern History and soon after started work as a free-lance historian. It was during this time that Mr Priestley reared his head once again, due to his political radicalism. I hasten to add that even then I paid no attention to his religion.

This all began to change between the years 2002 and 2004 as things changed within me and my experiences of life external to me. This was brought on by my acceptance of and recovery from alcoholism. It was around this time that I began to experience what I know today as God. I had a life changing spiritual experience, I can think of no better way of describing what happened. As a result I began to explore different religions and spiritual groups. I discovered Unitarianism, almost by accident really, but became immediately interested. I soon discovered that there were congregations locally and after a bit more research I began attending Cross Street Chapel, in Manchester.

 I can still remember the first service I attended, led by Rev John Midgley, it spoke powerfully to me. I also remember the warmth of the greeting that the handful of folk in attendance extended to me. I can still feel Peter Sampson's handshake as he passed me the hymn book, and gently spoke to me.

I enjoyed every aspect of congregational life; getting to know people first within the congregation and eventually further afield. I spent months bending John’s ear about everything, as I did with most people. I joined the choir and an R.E. group and just became part of the place. I felt cared for, I felt loved and I felt welcomed.

Hospitality has to be the key to true religion, in practice.  One of my favourite hymns is “All Are Welcome Here” it reads “All are welcome here...all are welcome to seek in spite of fear...to open wide to all our hearts...for all are welcome here.” To me this is the whole point of religion, to build communities of love that encourage that search for understanding and meaning, that search beyond the confines of our limited individual selves. I have certainly found that to be true of my chosen Unitarian faith, at its best at least; it encourages each of us as individuals to continue that search but to do so together, unconstrained. I felt welcomed and I was listened to during my time at Cross Street. I found a religious community where I could be myself, but not in isolation; I am certain I would not, could not have discovered so much alone. I did not realise then just how much I would need that community...

I was at work on Thursday morning, November 2^nd 2006 to be precise, when I received a phone call from my dearest friend Claire. She told me her son Ethan had been killed on his way to school. I immediately left and went to Manchester Royal Infirmary. I loved Claire and Ethan more than anybody in the world, but today is not a time to talk about that. John my minister came to the hospital to be with us and the family and held us in prayer over Ethan’s broken little body. He was there for us over the next few months. I will never forget all that he did.

I left the hospital later that day and felt utterly alone and lost. Claire had gone with her family and Luke (Ethan’s dad) had gone with his family. John also had to go. So what did I do? Well the first thing I did was pray. That was not enough though I needed to be with people. So I rang up some of the Cross Street folk. Well several of them just happened to be up at our Oldham Chapel, I made my way there and spent the rest of the day with these people. They listened to me, fed me and looked after me. This continued over the next months and year really as I came to terms with everything, while attempting to be there for Claire. The people of my community were able to be there, in an unobtrusive manner while I came to terms with the horrors of all that had happened. I took some time off work and spent a lot of time with these different people. They loved me when I really needed it. I do not believe I would have come through it on my own. I am sure I would have survived I am just not so sure I would have done so without  hardening my heart. They helped me keep my heart open.

It was coming to terms with all of this that drew me into ministry. I wanted to be part of and to attempt to build a community of loving compassion, of true hospitality that attempts to hold people and allow them to be who they really are in every aspect of life. At least that was and is my ambition.

I have been minister to the  good folk of Altrincham and Urmston for over a year and I feel that we have got to know one another quite well. From the outset I made it a priority of mine to spend time talking, but above all else listening, to them. During the worship we have shared I have encouraged openness by allowing them to get to know me. Worship for me must always speak the language of the heart and not just feed the intellect. This may well have been a challenge for some folk, but was a deliberate decision on my part in an attempt to give those present permission to be open with me. I have spent time with everyone connected with both congregations, visiting them in their own homes and talking with them about many things. This has been a real treasure to me, personally. We have some real gems hidden away in our congregations. I cannot begin to express how deeply moved I have been by what people have shared with me. Virtually every conversation has been littered with moving stories of love, of pain, of grief and of faith. I have heard some of the most incredible tales of personal spiritual experience, something I have an interest in. I have rarely left someone’s home without feeling that my life has been enhanced by the time we have just shared. I have felt welcomed into the lives of the people within both communities and for that I am profoundly grateful.

“Listen with the ear of your heart”, has become my mantra. It comes from “The Rule of Benedict” a set of ancient principles for monastic orders, followed by many Christian and some Buddhist communities today. The foundation of the rule is listening, deep attentive listening. It begins, “listen carefully, my child, to the instructions...and attend to them with the ear of your heart “. What is required is deep listening, a concept proposed, in contemporary times, by the Dalai Lama.

To me this is the whole point of religion; to be an environment that encourages us to listen, to one another and to the voice of transcendence that speaks through all and yet beyond life. Just think of the blind men and the elephant. Maybe just maybe if they had listened to one another they may have got a better idea of what an elephant was really like, instead of just grasping in the dark trying to make sense of the little bit that they were able to get a hold of.

It’s more than that though. The real purpose of religious community is to offer a place of love, support and above all else compassion as we walk through the journey of our lives. We cannot possibly experience that if we journey alone. I want and need to journey with others and I am no longer ashamed to admit this.

Religion has done an awful lot for me.