I was recently present at two funerals. One I conducted, the other I attended. A week last Thursday I conducted the funeral of Hugh Pitcher at Queens Road. The funeral felt like a song of praise for Hugh’s life. Hugh was a truly gifted and humble man. He was a truly gentle and gentleman, one of integrity and humility. It was a pleasure to know him and to be able to conduct his funeral service. That evening, I attended a V.E. Day memorial service at St Margeret’s Church, up the road. I was asked to sing “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. I spent time learning the song, so I could sing it “A Capella”. I found it a soothing experience doing so, as I got lost in the music. The next day I travelled back home for my friend Stuart’s funeral service. Now while there were elements of songs of praise during the service, especially the music he entered into by “Killing Joke”, the service itself left me frustrated and somewhat empty. Now that was partly how I was feeling, but it was also to do with the service itself. We did sing our own songs of praise to his life as I shared with friends later. We sang our own Hallelujah’s to Stuart’s life. Throughout the day and the drive back and forth, the words of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah were singing and ringing in my heart and soul.

As I have said I spent time learning “Hallelujah” last week. There are many versions of the song. In fact probably the better known version was not the one originally recorded by Cohen. Over the years Cohen himself would sing many different versions of the song. It took him seven years to write the song, re-working it and obsessively immersing himself in it. Some claim that the 7 years mean something deep and profound as the number seven has Biblical significance.

Cohen has claimed that he wrote 180 verses for the song and that he changed the lyrics he himself sang as time went by. There is a universal quality to “Hallelujah” as it blends the sacred and secular. It is not enough to simply call it a song, it is somehow more than that, it also a prayer that beautifully commentates on the nature of humanity. The singer song writer Regina Spektor has said of “Hallelujah”, “You get this feeling of hearing a modern prayer.”

Hallelujah was not immediately successful. In fact it was made famous by other artists, covering it and developing it, as the mystique grew. Jeff Buckley transformed the song into emotional masterpiece while Cohen was on a five sabbatical training to become a Zen Buddhist Monk. Buckley’s version is deeply emotive and following his tragic death the song gained even more prominence. Many artists have covered it and it is now a kind of secular anthem. That said as Cohen sang “It doesn't matter which you heard/The holy or the broken Hallelujah

I sang my own adaptation based on the lyrics of John Cale’s version, last Thursday. I did not sing a laid back version, certainly nothing like Cohen’s original, or Cales adapted version. I sang a song of Praise to God, symbolic in my eyes to the feeling that must have been experienced on that first V.E. Day. How the people must have cried out “Praise the Lord” that war in Europe had ended. I hope we can sing that song again soon. I felt that my version was also an impassioned plea that we humans could one day live in peace.

To me to sing in praise it to sing with passion, to let the spirit take you where it will. "Isaac Watts once likened singing hymns to 'breathing toward heaven.' In so doing we our singing our praise to the God that gave us life with his own breath. It is not just about the words and music, but what is felt in the experience, the emotion and the breath, joining with the Divine breath of life. To sing Hallelujah is to sing with enthusiasm, that Divine spirit within, bursting into life. As John Osborne observes:

“How I long for a little ordinary human enthusiasm. Just enthusiasm — that's all. I want to hear a warm, thrilling voice cry out Hallelujah! Hallelujah! I'm alive.”

With passion and enthusiasm in mind I will sing a version of my own. This time though I will sing the original lyrics that Cohen recorded in 1984

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor falls, the major lifts
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

“Hallelujah” has several biblical threads woven through it, but there is so much more to the song than these stories. There are deeper metaphors, some of which are explored in later verses. There are many stories to found in “Hallelujah”, including our own story which if you look for it, you will find in it. I feel sure that each person who has performed it has found theirs. I found some deep solace last week as I struggled with grief and one or two personal and communal challenges. I have found my own “Hallelujah”

There have many and varied interpretations of the song. Some say it is simply a song about desire, lust and betrayal, themes Cohen explored constantly. Others have spoken of a deep longing for covenant, for putting things right again in our relationships with others and with God. Others see it more literally and claim it is a story about King David’s great mistake. I hear real pain and regret in the song, but there is more to it than this. One verse, that was added later and can be found in many versions recorded since, suggests this

Maybe I've been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

To me it is hymn of praise, much like the original Psalms attributed to David. There is real faith at the heart of “Hallelujah”, despite the cries of pain and suffering, as well as despair and regret. The opening verse speaks of “The minor fall and the major lift”, The song only works when the two are sung together, surely this is the song of life, those “Blessings and curses”, that Moses spoke of. Surely this is Hallelujah. I was thinking of this as I reflected on both Stuart’s and Hugh’s funeral services, both so contrasting and yet echoing many of themes of “Hallelujah”.

Now as you know I enjoy my etymology, so I thought I would look at the word “hallelujah” itself. It is word made up of two parts. The first “hallelu” means “to praise; the second “jah”, is an abbreviation for Yahew, one of the many words for God, often translated as “Lord”. So “Hallelujah” means that often heard phrase “praise the Lord”. It is a song of praise to God, the Divine. This can be one of celebration, in a major chord, or a more melancholy one, in a minor key.

Leonard Cohen himself has explained what he was trying to express in the song. He said, “It’s a desire to affirm my faith in life, not in some formal religious way, but with enthusiasm, with emotion…It’s a rather joyous song.”

Alisa Ungar-Sargon has said that ‘The song’s central premise is the value, even the necessity, of praise in the face of confusion, doubt, or dread.’ The song speaks of the whole of our humanity, our capacity to achieve greatness and also destructiveness. King David the primary character being the ultimate example of this. That both the holy and the broken exist within each of us. Something also explored in another famous song of Cohen ‘Anthem,’ and that classic line, ‘There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.’

“Hallelujah” is a song about humility, but also about grace and faith, that no matter how far we have fallen we can still sing our hallelujah and no matter how much we achieve, we can still be humbled by life.

The key for Cohen is to remain open and that no matter how many times we fall we can rise again. This is exemplified in that final verse of “Hallelujah”.

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

“Hallelujah” has a universal quality. Leonard Cohen explored many themes through his music. There are both Jewish and Christian dimension, as well as other traditions, such as Hinduism. He spent five years studying in silence at a Zen Buddhist monastery in California after being brought to his knees again when he was swindled out of all his money. Perhaps the solitude appealed to him; perhaps he felt a need to quiet himself, to get away from the rush and tumult of the entertainment business and the hard labor of seeking after fame. But it did not suit him well, as he notes in two poems: "The Lovesick Monk" and "Leaving Mt. Baldy." In the first, he gently pokes fun at the austerity of the place and the rigors of Zen practice. In the second, he admits:

"I finally understood
I had no gift
for Spiritual Matters."

His love for women was probably too much too, another theme that Cohen constantly explored. Zen Buddhism was not for him in the end, the denial of this physical life, His spirit was far too embodied. There were cracks in him, that needed to let in the light, and he wanted to sing “Hallelujah”

These two themes are powerful message, the cracks and the joyous sing to my heart and soul, in this time and place, of all times I suspect. This is the beauty and the joy of living.

The song “Anthem” took ten years to write, three years longer than “Halllelujah”. The line, “there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in”, might well be Cohen’s credo, the beginning and end of his personal theology. This is something he revisited in in other songs, although from slightly different angles, like “Suzanne,” with the following line “look among the garbage and the flowers / there are heroes in the seaweed,” and again in “Hallelujah”, “There’s a blaze of light / In every word / It doesn’t matter which you heard / The holy or the broken Hallelujah”.

Havinf said all this it is “Hallelujah” that calls out to me. So, it is back to “Hallelujah” that I am going to return as I come to an end. That “secret chord” of King David, that flawed hero, 'the baffled king,' who sang songs of praise to God, songs of hope and despair. Those four original verses and the hundred plus Cohen has written since describe this human need to sing our praise, even if the song is only to life itself, to sing the joy of living. It’s the praise that saves us, that lets the light into the cracks and out of them too. It is in the singing that we light the flame once more in our own hearts and one another’s too. It is something I experienced several times last week, when amongst people who were remembering with love, friends and family and the sacrifice of previous generations.

Those cracks in our hearts, let the love both in and out. It allowed us to come together in that same spirit and to sing out in praise, to sing the song of love.

You see I have heard that it’s not so secret that chord
We can all sing and play, it will please the Lord
Because you have the music in you, don’t you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor falls, the major lifts
We’re cracked open by love, let’s all sing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

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

The Muses:Breathing Life into the Seeds of Genius

Sue and I are regular attenders at “Home” in Manchester, where over our time together we have seen all kinds of films and plays. Recently we went to see “Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love”. It was a film about Leonard Cohen and Marianne Ihlen, and their relationship that spanned several decades. It was described by the Guardian as a “tender, vivid snapshot of a singer and his ‘muse’”.

The film depicts a complicated and mysterious love story that began on the Greek Island of Hydra where the struggling writer Cohen had settled with many other writers and creatives. Here he met and fell in love with the beautiful and sensitive Norweigan woman Marianne Ihlen who was living there with her son. Marianne was Cohen’s “Muse”, inspiring many songs including “So Long, Marianne” and “Bird on a Wire”. The island was a haven of hedonism and free love, an example of the experimental lifestyles of the sixties.

It was a deeply moving film, but also disturbing. There were many casualties including Marianne’s son Axel, who has been institutionalised for decades. Throughout the film Sue noticed a man sat next to her in the cinema who wept from beginning to end. I understood why afterwards. While the artists described in the film produced some amazing works, there was a great deal of human cost to some who were around them and inspired them, pawns of the creative process ready to be sacrificed for the King or Queen that we call art.

The film did end tenderly with the telling of a beautiful letter from Cohen to Marianne as she was on her death bed and his own life was coming to an end. There was also a beautiful piece of coverage of Marianne attending a Cohen concert in Norway towards the end of their lives. She was there with her gentle sensible Norwegian husband singing along to the song he penned in her name.

“Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love”. was a beautiful, moving and deeply disturbing picture of creativity, the artist and the people in their lives. It got me thinking of the price of creativity. The power of creativity is vital, wild and I suppose somewhat dangerous. I know that it cannot be tamed.

Last weekend I attended “The Cambridge Folk Festival” with Sue and many members of her family and their friends. It was lovely to camp out with them and enjoy their company as we experienced a multitude of artist. Some of the greats of folk and contemporary music as well as many hoping to one day perhaps become great artists. Most, no doubt will not do so. I also camped with three members of “Two Day Coma” a young band trying to make their way in the music business. Sue’s nephew Jake is one of the guys. It was great to be in their company as they attempted to create as well as have a crazy time.

Last Wednesday I returned to Home once more. This time to see “Yesterday” another interesting take on “The Muse”. It was the story of another struggling musician searching for his muse and failing. After an accident when all the lights in the world go out he awakens in a world that never knew the “Beatles”, it turns out the world never new Coca Cola or Harry Potter either. He becomes famous by bringing the Beatles music to the world through his voice. He becomes known as the worlds greatest song writer as he brings alive their music for the world. There are only two other people in the whole world who are aware of this bit they are happy that he has brought their music to life, for as they say without the Beatles the world is a much harder place.

All this got me thinking about the creative spark, where it comes from? Is a gift, if a dangerous one, from the Divine? It certainly seems untameable, ungovernable and something that has to be wrestled with and brought into being, incarnated in life.

It got me thinking about the creative process. How is creativity breathed into existence? What is this beautifully dangerous thing that is the human imagination. I know when it comes to my own creativity, my writing etc, I sense that it comes from a place beyond my own frail human being. And I certainly do not feel that I am in complete control of it.

Now the great artists always speak of their “Muses”, Cohen’s was Marianne. It’s interesting that it’s always the male artists who speak of Muses, there does seem to be something patriarchal about the whole concept.

The ancient Greeks believed that the Muses were the sources of creativity. They believed that these Goddesses would come to a person in the night and whisper an idea into their ear. Now of course this is not literally true. This is “mythos” as it reveals a universal truth. I know with my own creativity it’s almost as if something seems to be whispered into the ears of my heart, into the core of my being.

The ‘Muse’ mythos speaks of the creative process that begins and ends beyond the individual craftsperson; the mythos speaks of an alchemy of mind, experience and wisdom that adds up to more than the individual who created the work. It speaks of a greater mystery. There is something divine occurring in the process; there is something at work here that calls the creation out of the individual; there is something going on here that is more than self, that cannot be controlled. I know myself that some weeks I am so full of ideas that they are seemingly bursting out of my ears and yet other weeks the well is dry. Some days I am completely blocked and then suddenly, as if something had just been whispered in my ears, the idea comes bursting out of me and I start writing again. Could this be God? Is God controlling this? Who knows?

Now artists like Leonard Cohen, as well as many other creative people are often called Geniuses. A genius is a person who displays exceptional superior intellectual ability, creativity. In ancient Rome, the genius (plural in Latin genii) was the guiding spirit or tutelary deity of person. The noun is related to the Latin verb genui, genitus, "to bring into being, create, produce"”

There are parallels here with the Greek Muses. It also brings to my mind “The Mustard Seed” that Jesus speaks of in the gospel accounts. Perhaps we each of us have these genius seeds planted deep in our souls. What the true genius does is bring that which is within us into being; to bring that seed of Deity within us to bear fruit. Maybe what the Muse does is breath these seeds into being and to share it with others, for it doesn’t belong to us alone and doesn’t truly come alive unless we share it with others. Much like the character in the film “Yesterday” did with the sings of the Beatles”, that had been lost to the world. I’m sure that most folks would agree that the world would be a poorer place without the songs of the Beatles.

Throughout human history this genius within us has been understood in different ways. Many, beginning with Plato I believe, talked of each of us being born with a companion, what some might describe as a spirit that remembers our true nature and therefore calling and which can guide us back to our greatest animation. It is this that truly brings us alive, that animates our very being that enthuses us. This inner spirit animates our soul, this is the genius within each and every one of us. It has been called by many names such as muse, inner voice, still small voice, higher self, guardian angel or Daemon.

Now the problem of course is that so many of us suppress our inner genius, we do not let it shine, we do not believe that we are the “Light of the World” or perhaps the opposite happens we keep it selfishly for ourselves alone. The key is to share it fully, to truly engage in the Creative Interchange. This is divine activity, coming to life.

Whatever we create is never complete until it shared with others and even then it’s only just begun. The worship I create each week does not exist until it is shared. Actually it’s never complete as I know that this leads to other interactions in all our lives. I often think I wish I’d heard that comment shared with me after the service before hand, as I know that it would have improved the sermon, but then without the words I’d shared the individual would not have felt inspired to share their thoughts.

A creation is made to communicate beyond itself. The Unitarian “Process Theologian” Henry Nelson Weiman called this “Creative Interchange”. We all create and we all pay attention to the creations of others; we are all craft workers and craft consumers. This is a creative interchange.

When we interact with one another’s creations we are deeply engaged with each other and all life. When we create we open windows into each other’s humanity, as we do so we create windows that can lead to a deeper understanding of what sustains all life. This can lead us to living a life that is for the good of all and not just ourselves.

We are all born with the ability to create and to appreciate the creativity of others. We are all craft workers and craft consumers. As we create and consume we experience a sense of interconnection with all of life, which enables us to nurture and sustain our world. For it is up to us to do so as we dance our dance with the divine creator.

None of us truly knows what seeds are planted within our souls. Many can lay dormant for years. It is only though the creative interchange that these gifts begin to come alive. It is our task to inspire each other and to become each others Muses. For by doing so we may just begin to bring to life the “Kin-dom” of Love right here right now. Our world so needs us to bring our souls to life.

The Missing Piece: Practising Imperfection

Please watch this clip before reading the rest of the blog...

Ring the bells that still can ring,

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack, a crack in everything,

That's how the light gets in.

Leonard Cohen

I love this story by Shel Silverstone. I really relate to it as I’m sure many others can too. It can be understood in many ways and I’m sure people take something different from it. What fascinates me about is this search, this struggle for completeness, this drive for wholeness and yet when it happens, when the piece is found that creates the perfect circle it does not bring happiness at all. In fact the circle rolls on at an ever increasing pace. So much so that it can no longer sing; it can no longer sing its little song nor can it appreciate all that surrounds it; it could no longer talk to the worm, or smell a flower, the butterflies could no longer land on it. Eventually it saw that it was no longer happy in its completeness, because it could no longer appreciate and or relate to life. So it rejects the missing piece and continues on imperfectly and once again begins singing its song.

"Oh I'm looking for my missin' piece
I'm looking for my missin' piece.
Hi-dee-ho, here I go,
Lookin' for my missin' piece."

Like everyone it didn’t really learn his lesson, it’s still looking for whatever will complete it.

There is a fear that haunts so many of us; it’s certainly taken its toll on me over the years. This is the fear of criticism. It can squeeze the life out of us and stop us doing whatever it may be that we want and need to do in life. I have often been held back myself, less so today, but it still lingers. It’s part of being human I suppose.

I was talking with a friend on the other day who had got herself in a bit of a "tizzy". She was starting a new job the next day and had basically driven herself mad in her attempts to prepare for it. She bought a new computer program to practise because she wasn’t sure she’d be up to the job and all kinds of other things. She wanted to be perfectly prepared for her first day and was terrified she would not make the perfect first impression. She had sought advice from all kinds of people and had desperately tried to download the program but it had gone horribly wrong. To calm herself she had practised what seemed like hours of meditation, but to no avail. In the end she stopped and realised that what she needed to do was to be with people, to sit with people and to simply say I can’t do this on my own. Within ten minutes of her simply sharing her troubles, it didn’t seem so bad at all. She had calmed down and realised that all would be well, she just needed to get a good night sleep and step into the new place of work the very next day.

The conversation brought to mind similar experiences in my life. A friend recently reminded me that I vowed I would never drive. Truth be told I only actually learnt because I had to. Now I can come up with a thousand and one reasons why I never learned, but the truth is I was terrified. I never thought I would have the right kind of co-ordination. Not true, it turned out; I got there in the end. It was a hard slog, a painful slog, but I got there in the end. I remember when I was learning I drove myself almost mad with anxiety as I got ready to begin my lesson. Each week I tried a different pair of shoes or trainers, the ones that would give the best feel on the clutch. After about 10 weeks I reckon I stumbled on the perfect ones. Truth be told, on reflection, I had probably just about learned about clutch control by this time. Each week I would spend an hour in prayer and meditation trying to get over the anxiety, which never really subsided. The only real cure was walking in the park and connecting to life. After about twenty weeks, the fear seemed to subside, as I found I could actually handle the car.

I did eventually pass my test and have been driving for over three years now. I’m never going to be Nigel Mansell, but I can drive. I stuck at what I needed to do; I found the courage to keep on going, despite my fear and error strewn early days

The biggest difference about my life today, compared to the first thirty some years is that I have faith and courage. I have found that something that sustains and holds me and guides me despite my doubt and fear. I can practise imperfection, incompleteness these days. There is far less fear of the criticism of others.

I love the following meditation by Forrest Church, it really chimes with me. It is titled “The Imperfectionsist”:

"The reason I’ve been able to produce so much is that I’m not a perfectionist – I’m an imperfectionist. I’m confident that everything I say can be improved upon by others, and that’s my great strength, because I know that it won’t be improved upon by others unless I take the first step. When we only do things which please us, or don’t frighten us, after a while fewer and fewer things please us. Over time, our circle of options diminishes until we are prisoners in gardens of our own making. The more decisions you make in your life, the more times you act, the more certain it is that you will be wrong. To be fulfilled we need to recognize, all of us, that the world doesn’t owe us a living – rather we owe the world a living. And in the brief time that is given us, we must somehow learn to give ourselves away."

I really believe that what we need is more imperfection, more incompletion. More people who are unafraid to do what they can, however falteringly so that others can improve on their beginning. Think about it if we all held back until that perfect moment, nothing would ever get done; nothing would ever happen; nothing would ever change. We would just sit around complaining about our lives and the state of the world where in, I have wasted a lot of my life doing precisely this. These days, thank God, I have enough faith to practise imperfection.

It is ok to be imperfect; in fact I would suggest that it is rather lovely. It makes us fully human. No aspect of life is perfect. I do wonder where this drive, this need to be perfect comes from, to escape our humanity. Maybe that is exactly where it does in fact come from? It is an aspect of that drive to somehow transcend our humanity. I am reminded here of the text from Genesis I. When God looks at his creation he does not suggest that is perfect, he sees that it is good. Some translations suggest that it means “fit for purpose”. This fascinates me. Perfection is not part of natural life and yet we so often cripple ourselves in our attempts to strive for it, to prove ourselves worthy of life. We forget that to be imperfect is to be incomplete and that there is nothing wrong in this, it is to be fully human. To be incomplete simply means we have not yet created the perfect circle and thus we can roll through life singing and enjoying all that is life, with all that is life. We can journey together in love. In our perfect imperfection.

I believe that by practising imperfection we can bring ourselves closer to one another and encourage one another to be all that we can be; imperfectionism gives us the courage to be all that we can be. If we can learn to celebrate imperfection within ourselves, then we can learn to celebrate it in one another. It will bring us closer to one another and we can begin to encourage one another to be all that we can be. We can then work together to build a better life for us all. Perfectionism is a manifestation of selfishness, it’s all about the individual. Where as imperfectionism draws us out of ourselves and encourages us to encourage one another to what ever we can. You never know we may end up doing more than we ever dreamed was possible, for the good of ourselves and the good of all.

I say lets practise being perfectly imperfect children of life, children of love, children of God. Let’s continue singing our song.

"Oh I'm looking for my missin' piece
I'm looking for my missin' piece.
Hi-dee-ho, here I go,
Lookin' for my missin' piece."


Amen

Autumn

Ministry compels me to pay attention. Even during those moments when I really do not want to, this work compels me to pay attention. I now understand that this is one of the great gifts of my work. Ministry compels me not only to pay attention to the people that I serve, but to all life. I now understand how much ministry is a deeply spiritual practice. Why is this? Well because it increases my sensitivity to life.

As the year has developed and as I have created worship and engaged with the communities I serve I have noticed how I increasingly pay attention to the changing seasons. This seems especially so this autumn. Autumn has had a powerful impact on me this time around. This year I seem to have noticed nature more than I ever have before; this year I have heard Autumn’s song more clearly than ever before. I am listening and I am attempting to harmonise with it.

I've been singing these words for weeks now...

“Think of the springtime,

Think of the summer,

Think of the winter,

Soon to be here,

But this is autumn,

Glorious autumn,

Beautiful autumn,

Best of the year.

Beautiful autumn best of the year...

Rilke wrote of “Autumn”

“The leaves are falling, falling as from far, as though above were withering farthest gardens; they fall with a denying attitude.

And by night, down into solitude, the heavy earth falls far from every star.

We are all falling. This hand’s falling too – and have this falling-sickness none withstands.

And yet there’s One whose gently-holding hands This universal falling can’t fall through.”

Everything seems to be falling and dying during the Autumn; "everything is beautiful because everything is dying". This is of course only temporary as all that is seemingly dying today is actually preparing itself for the renewal that will come in the spring time. 

It is hard to miss the glories of Autumn. Those simple falling and fallen leaves turn the most beautiful shades and from a distance can appear to be aflame in a red gold splendour. I noticed them as I was driving back to Altrincham only the other day.

Harvest feasts are celebrated, in many cultures, during the autumn. 

The other day a member of the congregation was telling me of her recent visit to a Sukkot celebration. Sukkot is a Jewish celebration where temporary shelters, with a hole revealing the sky are created in remembrance of ancestors who wandered in the wilderness; as the hardships of ancient times are remembered, so too a celebration is enjoyed and a thanksgiving harvest is shared by family, friends and guests. The shelters are decorated lavishly and are adorned with symbols of home, harvest and perhaps most importantly hope. By spending time outdoors, in these simple shelters, the Jewish people are reminded of their connection both to nature and their heritage.

In the coming weeks Hindu’s will be celebrating “Divali” the festival of lights. This is in essence a celebration of harvest and thanks giving when thanks are offered to the Divine for the blessings of nature. The festival honours the sacredness of light as a symbol of connection to the Divine. Prayers of petition are offered to the “Goddess of Abundance” “Lakshmi” to fill their homes with all that is beautiful and good, during the celebrations. This though is not merely a time to ask for gifts but also a time to offer generosity to family and friends. It is a time of celebration, a time for giving and forgetting and it is also a time of remembrance too; a time to recall deliverance of ancestors by the Avatar Krishna from a tyrant. Divali is a celebration, a time of thanks giving, not only for the harvest, but also of deliverance.

At this time of year many Pagans celebrate Samhain, a new year harvest. Samhain also represents the time when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. It is a time to remember those who have died, to remember and connect to ancestors and to prepare for the harsh realities of the coming winter; a time when the ground will once again become lifeless, only to be reborn again in the springtime.

The Christian churches have recently celebrated their own harvest festivals. We had ours here at Dunham Road, only two weeks ago. The coming weeks are also a time of remembrance with All Hallows, All Saints and All Souls Day, as well as Remembrance Sunday itself. December brings Advent and the Hope that comes with the new light, the Hope of Christmas and that humble birth in a simple stable. Like many of the other traditions this is also a time for giving and for getting (forgiving and forgetting).

Each of these very different traditions honours the past and gives thanks for the present while preparing for the hope that is to come, looking for the light in the darkness of winter and the coming of new life in the spring time.

Anyone who knows me will be aware that I have a deep love for the writings of Forrest Church. Forrest served for more than thirty years as minister at All Souls Unitarian Church in New York. He authored many books and I particularly love his writings post the year 2,000. With the dawning of the new millennium he changed and developed a more relational heart based theology as opposed to his previous head based one. As he said himself “My heart had always been in play – how could it not with love and death my abiding theme – but now a trunk line opened from my mind straight to my heart, a line that was almost always open. My long standing belief in a distant God slowly transfigured itself into my felt experience of a loving God. Ah, what a difference: to feel, not merely know, what one believes.”

His penultimate masterpiece “Love and Death”, which he wrote while dying of oesophagul cancer, is the most beautiful life affirming book imaginable. It extols the virtue of the power love in the face of death. Church does not bemoan his fate of dying before he himself is ready, instead he celebrates love. He says that death is in fact loves measure...

“...not only because at a loved one’s death our grief, however we express it, is equal to our love, but also because, when we ourselves die, the love we have given to others during our own brief span of days is the one thing death can’t kill. Because we and our loved ones manage to devise so many ways for fear to bind our hearts – fear of intimacy, fear of disappointment, fear of embarrassment, fear of confrontation – because our fear of pain or possible pain manifest itself in so many guises, we often hurt each other without really meaning to. We hurt one another and ourselves by learning, over the practice of a lifetime, how to protect ourselves from pain. Add to this all the mistakes we make, and all the mistakes others make, and only one solvent can loosen our hearts from self protective captivity. Only love. And only a forgiving heart, one capable both of accepting and bestowing forgiveness, is open both to give and receive the saving power of love. (Love and Death pg74)

This to me is a message of hope, a message of love and a message that connects all of us to one another.  It speaks to me powerfully of Autumn of that which is dying, so that it can be born again, so that it can bring about renewal. It symbolises the light of hope, the light of love that is to come only following the death that Autumn symbolises. 

"Autumn, glorious Autumn, beautiful Autumn, best of the year."

"This is indeed Autumn, glorious Autumn, beautiful Autumn, best of the year." Everything is indeed beautiful, because everything is dying. We are about to enter a season of remembrance for those who have gone before us. We have already gathered in the fruits of year. We have given thanks for the circling year as well as given thanks for our ancestors who made this life that we enjoy possible. Autumn links the past with the present as well as the future yet to come. A hope filled future, a dawning of new light, which symbolises the love which will always survive death.

"This is Autumn, glorious Autumn, beautiful Autumn best of the year." Autumn may well feel like an ending, but really it is a new beginning. We should not fall for the fool’s gold of death with the first of the winter frosts or the falling of the leaves. Those falling leaves are the first sign of the renewal that is yet to come. They should remind us of our ancestors that lived before us as well as those who will follow us when we are gone. Yes winter will soon be upon us, but there is new light, there is hope yet to come. New life will soon be upon us with the dawning of the spring yet to come.

"For this is Autumn, glorious Autumn, beautiful Autumn best of the year."

Amen