Follow Your Bliss: Following Yonder Star

“And Stars Twinkle in the night air” by Richard S Gilbert

"And the stars, twinkling in the night air,
Become beacons leading to a babe in a manger, or a cave,
Or other humble place, in east or west,
A child in whom the human race was born anew.
And simple shepherds, so close to the earth,
Become heroes in a great miracle play,
Finding the new born babe before the great kings of the East.
And angels, those celestial non-creatures, made heavenly music,
To stir the heart for centuries.
(Oh we know it didn’t happen that way
But one must admit, it is very poetic.)
Only a myth, you say?
Of course only a myth,
The stuff of which dreams are made.
The fabrications of which joys are made.

Only a myth.
Yet those myths link us with those we never knew,
And will link us with those we will never know.
They will speak a poetry irresistible.
For we are sustained not by bread alone,
Or by reason,
Or by fact,
Or by the daily hum drum,
So much as we are by the poetry of human imagination,
Which paints pictures where before there were only colours,
Which forms songs where before there were only sounds,
Which writes stories where before there were only words.

Someone needs to be our story teller,
For human life is more than a bleak passage
Between the portals of life and death.
It is a story, a myth
It is the myth of Jesus, or the Buddha or Confucius.
Heroes of the race.
Or is it the story of a life,
Yours or mine, a story with a beginning and ending
And all that goes between of despair and hope."

There are many powerful symbols of the Christmas mythos. Now I see these as universal symbols that speak to us from generation to generation. They link us to those who came before us and those who are yet to come. They may not mean exactly what they meant when the first stories were told, but they still have the power to speak to us today. They must have otherwise why would we continue to tell them, to engage with them. They still speak to we who live in our materially advanced aged. Why I wonder? Well perhaps it is because although we have progressed materially, beyond recognition, we may well still live with a kind of spiritual poverty. There is still something in these tales that can touch us, nay transform us. I wonder what the symbols and stories of Christmas mean to you. I wonder if they mean something different today than they did in the past.

One symbol that really speaks to me is that of the star. The star that drew the “wise men” out of the comfort of their homeland to seek out this baby who they believed was the King of the Jews. They travelled from the east and began to ask where this child was to be found, as they wished to pay homage to him. They came to Herod who learnt from them the exact time when the star had appeared and told them to go and seek out the child and to let him know where he was so that he could pay him homage too. They continued their journey and followed the star; they followed the guiding star, from afar. Finally they reached the manger and were overwhelmed with joy at the presence that they found there. They offered the child gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh and then having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod they left for home by a different route.

Now these three figures have become a much talked about aspect of the Nativity Mythos. Why is this I wonder? We seem to know an awful lot about them and yet there is little said of them in the gospel account. By the way you will only find them in Matthews Gospel. Today we talk of three wise men and yet the account does not tell us this or that they were even men. They even have names today Balthazar, Melchior and Caspar. We have all seen images of these tall handsome stately men in long robes with deep reverential voices. I’m sure that if you asked children about them that most would say that one of them was black. Of all the characters of the nativity story it is these figures that people have most powerful image of. The mythos has grown and developed with time. I wonder why this is. Oh by the way I’m sure that there are one or two you reading this who are thinking that I really ought not to be talking about them as Epithany is the last day of Christmas. I am fully aware that Christmas does not officially begin until sunset on the 24th of December. But hey I’m a Unitarian and I do not follow the church calendar, please forgive my dissent. Besides I want talk about these figures as I believe that they have a vital role in the light of hope that is a symbol of Advent.

You see and I choose that word carefully...You “see” the wise men were moved by a rising star. They were not spoken to by an angel like the other characters in the story. They observed a star with their own eyes and they followed it from afar. Now this has been interpreted in many ways down the centuries and these understandings have been of great interest but that’s not my focus here. I’m more interested in what significance it may hold for we who live today. We who are perhaps ourselves looking for symbols that may inspire us, that may draw us out of ourselves.

Now some will say that this myth has nothing to say today. Some will choose to tear the story to pieces and show us all the historical inaccuracies. That it’s just some stupid and meaningless fantasy. They may say it’s irrational, give me some reasoned facts...they may even begin to sing...

"God rest ye, Unitarians,
Let nothing you dismay!
Remember that there is no proof
There was a Christmas Day
For Christmas really started as
A pagan holiday.

Oh, glad tidings of reason and fact,
Reason and fact.
Glad tidings of reason and fact.

No wise men travelled from the East,
The journey's far too long.
There were no shepherds in the fields,
The time of year's all wrong;
We don't believe in angels;
That rules out the angels' song!

(Chorus)

We're too sophisticated to
Believe in tales so old.
We know that human avarice means
Too much bought and sold;
We only celebrate because
This season is so cold.

(Chorus)

By Rev Chris Raible (Sung to same tune as the Carol "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"

Yes it is easy to rip the Nativity story to pieces, including the journey that the wise men took, but why would we want to? To do so is actually fail to see what is really there, what is beneath the story. I see so much in these tales that can speak to we who think we are so clever and sophisticated in the 21st century. Do we need glad tidings of reason and fact or comfort and joy. There is more to myth than merely factual accuracy.

There is more to the Christmas mythos than the historical accuracy or inaccuracy of the Biblical accounts. In fact to get lost in detail of what did or didn’t actually happen is to miss the whole point of the story.

Joseph Campbell taught that myths such as the nativity story are actually metaphors for human life. That they are eternal and universal tales that can teach us about our lives right here right now. He believed that by understanding these mysteries we can begin to understand who we truly are and what life is all about.

So what can the wise men mythos teach we who live today? Well I believe that they can teach us an awful lot. To me the wise men are archetypes of something that Campbell himself spoke of. Remember that they observed a star and in seeing it they began their journey, one of transformation. You see what they saw was more than just merely a star it was a vision of something more and it was this that drew them beyond themselves that compelled them to travel afar. The wise men were following their bliss.

But what on earth can that possibly mean, to “follow your bliss?”

Well it is a sacred call to action. It is a call from your soul to light the fire within you to do what destiny asks of you, to bring yourself fully to life and therefore to become a light in the lives of others. Following your bliss is about doing the things that bring meaning and fulfilment despite the troubles that may accompany it. It’s not about seeking highs or wanton consumption of everything material; it is something much deeper it is about truly living, about meaningful living. Campbell says that by following our bliss doors will open up for us where we could only see barriers before.

Following your bliss is about saying yes to this call and beginning your own heroic journey. In doing so synchronicity will seemingly be abound and luck will follow. By following your bliss you seemingly become guided by something more than yourself. This is what Campbell observed and it has certainly been my experience, at least for the last ten years.

Following your bliss though is not an easy ride, quite the opposite actually. Campbell observed that like all heroic journeys there are tests and trials along the way. There are monsters and dragon to slay on the journey although most of these are the ones we carry with us. It is our fear of the adventure that is our greatest enemy.

Human history is littered with figures who have been drawn out of themselves, have followed there bliss and begun their adventure thus inspiring others to do likewise. Some have done this on a mass scale, figures like Nelson Mandela, who the world is currently grieving the loss of and many others have done so on a much smaller, but no less important scale. All have had to face their trials and tribulation and all brought so much light to our world. They were not special people though, they were ordinary people just like you me; ordinary people who found that star that inspired them on their journey; ordinary people who followed their bliss.

The Nativity story has so much to offer we who live today. But please do not get lost in the metaphor in arguments about whether or not these things could have actually happened. Mythos is not really about this. Instead it teaches us something personal and yet universal, something that can inspire we who live today. There is so much in the story of the Magi being drawn out of themselves and following that star to that humble place. We too can follow our star and it can inspire we who live today. I believe, if we seek it and if we prepare ourselves for it we can find our star and that it can draw us out of ourselves and send us forth on our journey. Maybe we too can begin to follow our bliss and inspire others to do likewise. Maybe we too can become stars that lead others to journey afar.

And isn’t this what Advent is all about? Isn’t it about preparing ourselves for the coming of new light and new hope.

Let us follow our bliss.

Hope: It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness

There is an old Chinese proverb that has become the motto of Amnesty International “It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness.”

I like it. It speaks to me of the purpose of our lives. To live in such a way as to bring light into places of darkness and not just sit back and complain and blame. To live with Hope, not necessarily optimism, but definitely Hope. To do what we can. To live in faith and not to be paralysed by fear.

I have a great love of the "Holy Fool" Mulla Nasruddin. His seeming foolishness has a way of revealing profound truths. Here is one short tale.

Nasruddin was once asked:

"What do you think is most valuable to us the sun or the moon?"

He thought for a while and then he responded:

“Well, the sun is out during the daytime when there is light. The moon, on the other hand, provides light during the night when it’s dark. Thus, the moon is obviously much more valuable.”

Good old Nasrudin the "Holy Fool" the bringer of un-common sense. Now perhaps you are thinking what a ridiculous thing to say but please do look beyond the obvious here. Please put aside your literal faculties. There is a deep truth here. One light is a priceless commodity during times of darkness but of no real value when it is already light.

Here’s another short little wisdom tale for you...

Once there lived a blind man in a small town. He always carried a lighted lamp in his hand whenever he went out at night.

On one dark night he was going his merry way, lighted lamp in his hand, when he passed a group of young men travelling the other way.

On seeing the blind man they began to make fun of him, saying " O Blind man why do you carry the lighted lamp. You are blind and cannot see anything?"

At which the blind man politely responded, "This lamp is not for me, but for you people who have eyes. You may not see a blind man coming and walk right into him.”

At this the young men fell silent, looked at one another uncomfortably, apologised and shuffled off...

“It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness.”

One candle in the darkness speaks of what "Hope" is actually all about. Vaclav Havel wrote beautifully of "Hope" in the following poem. Hope as he says is not the same as optimism.

“Hope” by Vaclav Havel

Hope is a state of mind, not a state of the world
Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
Hope is not a prognostication—it’s an orientation of the spirit.
You can’t delegate that to anyone else.

Hope in this deep and powerful sense is not the same as joy
when things are going well,
or the willingness to invest in enterprises
that are obviously headed for early success,
but rather an ability to work for something to succeed.

Hope is definitely NOT the same as optimism.
It’s not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense,
regardless of how it turns out.

It is hope, above all, that gives us strength to live
and to continually try new things,
even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now.
In the face of this absurdity, life is too precious a thing
to permit its devaluation by living pointlessly, emptily,
without meaning, without love, and, finally, without hope.

To paraphrase Vaclav Havel “ Hope is an orientation of the spirit...It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out.”

Now people understand spirit differently. For me it is something that is present within each and everyone one of us and all life for that matter. I agree with Havel I see "Hope" as an orientation of this spirit. Hope is something that breathes life into us, something that fires us, something that sustains us, regardless of what is going on around us.

Hope should never be confused with blind optimism or unrealistic expectation for the future. If life has taught me anything it has shown me that things rarely turn out they way we expect them too. I always remain sceptical of “sooth sayers” or those who claim to be able to predict the future. None of us know what is coming.

Hope is something different it is an orientation of the spirit, it is something that holds us and sustains us right here right now. This may sound like a strange thing to say as we enter into Advent. After all “Advent” is derived from “adventus”, which means coming. It is a period of expectation, of anticipation; it is a time for waiting; it is a time for preparation. In the Christian tradition it is the time marked out for preparation for the coming of the new hope in the Christ Child. This suggests that it is a time to get ready for the hope that is to come and not something that is already here, already present within us.

I do not take the traditional view. Instead for me Advent symbolises the hope that is born in every child. For every night a child is born is a holy night. Every life is a blessing. Every life has that same spirit flowing through it. Last Sunday I had the privilege of blessing my friend John’s daughter Erin. During the ceremony I touched her head, her hands and her feet; during the ceremony I blessed her thoughts and words and deeds. To me this was symbolic of awakening that orientation of the spirit, a watering of the seed of Hope already planted within her.

I am reminded here of those beautiful words by Sophia Lyon Fah’s, so appropriate for this time of year.

“And so the children come.
And so they have been coming.
Always in the same way they come --
Born of the seed of man and woman.
No angels herald their beginnings,
No prophets predict their future courses,
No wise men see a star to point their way
To find a babe that may save humankind.
Yet each night a child is born is a holy night.
Fathers and Mothers --
Sitting beside their children's cribs --
Feel glory in the wond'rous sight of life beginning.
They ask: "When or how will this new life end?
Or will it ever end?"
Each night a child is born is a holy night”

Every night a child is born is a holy night just as every day is a holy day. Each life is a blessing and a new hope. Each of us are made of the same stuff and have the potential to bring hope to the world. We each have that same spirit within us. We each can bless our world in so many ways. This is the hope I see in all of us, in all life. This hope can come from what we do and how we are. This is why each week when I deliver the Benediction, the blessing, at the end of the service I ask those present to carry that loving spirit with them “in all that we feel, all that we think, all that we say and all that we do”. It is my attempt to ask us to go out into our world and bless our world in daily interactions. It is so easy to despair at life and give up, but I believe in hope, in that inclination of the spirit. I believe in that old Chinese proverb “It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness.” Each week I ask us to be candles, to bring some light into our world. To do what we can. To me this is living religiously; to me this is the essence of true religion. It’s not just about what we think, or feel, or believe or reject, it is a way of being; it is an orientation of the heart. It’s about spirit coming to life; it’s about spirit incarnating.

My hope is that we can be blessings to our world; that we can bring glad tidings of comfort and joy to our world. Our world needs it we all need it.

With this in mind I thought I'd share some insights on blessing by the late John O’Donohue:

“Who has the power to bless? This question is not to be answered simply by the description of one’s institutional status or membership. But perhaps there are deeper questions hidden here: What do you bless with? Or where do you bless from? When you bless another, you first gather yourself; you reach below your surface mind and personality, down to the deeper source within you—namely, the soul. Blessing is from soul to soul.”

John teaches that a blessing brings wholeness that is intended not just for the one who receives it; it is linked with the wholeness of the whole world, to the wholeness of eternity. He says that:

“We never see the script of our lives; nor do we know what is coming toward us, or why our life takes on this particular shape or sequence. A blessing is different from a greeting, a hug, a salute, or an affirmation; it opens a different door in human encounter. One enters into the forecourt of the soul, the source of intimacy and the compass of destiny.

Our longing for the eternal kindles our imagination to bless. Regardless of how we configure the eternal, the human heart continues to dream of a state of wholeness, a place where everything comes together, where loss will be made good, where blindness will transform into vision, where damage will be made whole, where the clenched question will open in the house of surprise, where the travails of life’s journey will enjoy a homecoming. To invoke a blessing is to call some of that wholeness upon a person now.”

I have a request for you who read this piece; I have a request to you this Advent season. My request  is for you to use your power to bless all that you meet, to bring that orientation of the spirit to life. I also ask that you open yourselves up to the blessings this season offers to you, from one another and from all life, for that same spirit is present in everything. That spirit links us to the wholeness of life and the wholeness of eternity. It links us from our souls to the universal, to the eternal soul.

Tears: The Most Sacred of Waters

In recent blogspots I have explored suffering and despair and how to find meaning in difficult times; ways to the engage with the kind of deep sustenance that can sustain us when life seems difficult. In this final piece for Novemeber I am continuing with this theme by discussing a substance that occurs naturally within everyone. It will explore that most sacred of waters; it will be exploring tears. I suspect that the tear may just about be the ultimate of human sacraments. Tears mark many of the most sacred moments of our lives; tears connect us to these moments in ways that are way beyond mere words.

Tears rolled down my cheeks on several occasions last weekend. Most of them were not tears of sadness; no they were tears of gratitude, joy and connection. I have shed tears of sadness in recent weeks, but not last weekend.

Last Sunday I was deeply touched by the anniversary service I attended at Oldham Unitarian Chapel and One World Centre. They were celebrating 200 years of Unitarian witness in the town. The first Unitarians began gathering there, officially at least, for the first time in an upstairs room just a few months after the Trinity Act was passed in 1813. This act allowed Unitarians to worship free from persecution for the first time. The history of Oldham Unitarians has been one of struggle. There have been times when they have thrived, but in the main they have struggled. This has been particularly true in recent years. This is why it was such a joy to be there last Sunday and to see them harvesting some of the fruits of their labour. Over the weekend their new One World Cafe was opened and they also unveiled the most beautiful new stained glass window. The dedication of the new window was led by Marion Nuttall ,one of the stalwarts of the congregation. As she spoke tears began to roll down my face. As they did I looked around the chapel and noticed the same thing occurring in the eyes of others that were present there tpp. These were tears of love and understanding, tears of recognition for Marion and her steadfast dedication to the chapel, the people of Oldham and free religion. It was a real privilege to be a witness to this.

I also experienced some wonderful tears of gratitude as I tried to settle down to sleep last Saturday night. I was quite high on life at the time. I’d been to a wonderful New Model Army gig that night and had been moved deeply by the whole experience. I had shared the night with some new friends and yet I felt that I had experienced the whole event with friends I had known from being a teenager. I even bumped into an old mate I’d not seen since the later 1990’s. As soon as we saw one another we just hugged, what more was there to do. As I lay in bed that night I tried to come down from the high of the evening and just could not. I tried to clear my head and connect to my breathing, but it just did not work. So I decided to just lie and re-feel the memories not just of that night but of many nights over many years. I remembered old friends and passions and as I did tears began to form in my eyes. They were not tears of sadness; they were tears of gratitude, connection and most of all love. After a while a broad smile spread across my face and I drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.

There is something deeply sacred in tears. I’m not really talking about crying here by the way. I think that crying is something else, something that demands attention from others and something we often feel we need to do something about. Crying, sobbing especially in children is something which makes most people feel deeply uncomfortable.

In recent times I have heard several people say that they cannot cry alone; that they need other people to be there so that they can feel safe enough to cry. I suspect that this has something to do with the fear of being out of control and being unable to get back to what they perceive as normality. I may well be wrong, but I don’t think so. If you cry in public you will of course be heard and there will usually be someone or even several people who will respond and help you to put things back together again.

I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit recently. I’m not sure I cry in public, or not very often anyway. I do shed tears though. I do so a lot actually, sometimes while leading worship. I don’t fear it. I know these tears are sacred and it is my soul responding to something greater than myself.

Tears though don’t only come in response to gratitude and happy moments of connection. They are also a response to deeply felt suffering. It will not surprise you to hear that Forrest Church had something rather beautiful to say on this subject, He wrote that...

"...the ancient Hebrews honoured suffering, viewing it as a sign of a deeply felt experience, a symbol of their passion. I encountered an intimate expression of this on a recent visit to Israel.

The Israel Museum in Jerusalem contains a collection of tiny ceramic cups. These were sacramental vessels. People cried into them.

Your mother has just died. Someone you love has cancer. Your spouse has left you. You are struggling at work. More likely, you have simply broken down. You burst into tears. So you pick up your tear cup, put it under your eye, and weep into it. When you are finished weeping, you cap it and put it away again. It is a way to save your tears.

Why save them? Because they are precious. It doesn’t matter why we cried, your tears are precious, for they show that you care. A full cup of tears is proof that you have felt deeply, suffered, and survived. Their value is ratified by this simple parable from Jewish lore. When his student complained that he was suffering and so deeply confused that he could no longer pray and study, Rebbe Mendl of Kotzk asked him, “What if God prefers your tears to your studying?”.

Washington Irving the author of the Gothic novel “Sleepy Hollow” claimed that “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.”

Tears are sacred; they are perhaps the holiest of holy waters. I have not always seen them this way. I used to see them as a sign of weakness; that they symbolised emotion that needed to be controlled and not expressed. I remember the day that my father died, walking into the room where he lay. I went in alone, I looked at him and kissed him and then turned and walked out of the door and into my grandma’s kitchen. As I did so my auntie and grandma asked if I was ok as they did I felt the emotion come and I swallowed hard, no tears came. I did not cry at the funeral either. It took me 10 years before I was able to grieve my father’s life and death.

Thankfully I am no longer like that. One reason I spend so long preparing the funeral services I lead is because of the way they affect me. I have to go over them again and again to work through the emotion, so has to maintain professionalism on the day. Yet no matter what I do the emotion is there, there is always one or two tears. As there should be, these are sacred moments that I am attempting to hold people through.

For so much of my life I have been afraid of my emotional nature and this is one of the reasons why when I was first asked by my granddad if I would conduct his funeral, when the time came, I refused. I did so because I was afraid I would be unable to cope on the day. Since then thankfully my faith has grown. Only a couple of weeks ago it came to me that this is something I must do. Yes tears will be shed, but it is something I must do. It is the right thing to do. Today I try not to shy away from the sacredness of life.

I have for many years been fascinated by two very different images of overflowing cups. One is the Zen Buddhist tale about an overflowing tea cup and the other the verse from the 23rd Psalm “my cup runneth over”. The Zen tale depicts the importance of an empty mind. The story teaches that we need what Buddhist describe as “Beginners Mind” in order to truly learn what is required to find peace. It teaches that our problem is that our minds are overflowing with so much stuff that we have no room for anything new. There is a real deep truth here. A clear mind is a priceless commodity. The question this raises for me though is how do we create the clear mind?

For a long time I believed that the way to achieve this was to learn to control my thoughts and not allow them to attach to things. Well this never really worked for me and today I can clearly see why. You see back then I wasn’t really trying to control my mind at all, more my emotions. No doubt this is why it never worked for me. I have in recent days learnt a better way. I have found that by filling the cup of love to the point that it ‘runneth over’ my mind has become clear. The cup that is of course being filled is my heart, nay my soul. I have discovered by connecting fully to all that is, all that has been and all that is yet to be my spirit has become healthy and as a result my mind has pretty much emptied. Hard to believe really because for many years my mind never stopped swirling, this is why I suffered insomnia for so long. When I stopped and lay my head on my pillow my head would not slow down it would in fact speed up and there was nothing I could do about it. I thank God this is no longer the case; I thank God that I have discovered by filling my heart, my soul, that my head becomes empty.

This of course leads to another question. How do we fill the cup to overflowing? Well maybe there's a lesson to be learnt from those ancient Hebrews and their tiny ceramic cups. Maybe the answer is to find a way to store those tears to let them build up so that they overflow out of ourselves and into our lives. Now I’m not suggesting you buy cups yourselves, please don’t take me literally here. What I mean is that we can do so by increasing our sensitivity to life and we do this by simply connecting to the world in which we live, moment by moment, breath by breath. I’m not just talking about saving the tears of about sorrow here either, I’m talking as much about joy as anything else. Tears are a sign of a truly felt experience and I believe that to truly live meaningful lives we have to experience everything and to carry that experience out into our world.

November is the month of change and reflection and this year this has been quite an intense experience for me. Now it is time to move forward into the winter, into December, into Advent. It is time to move forward into the new light that can come if we fill our hearts and souls to over flowing and attempt to bring into our world glad tidings of comfort and joy. Our world needs it and we need it too. 

So I say fill those cups to overflowing and spread this abundant love into our world. Drink from one another’s cups and from the cup of the eternal for that is one cup that is forever overflowing.

How The Rainbow Works

This blogspot was originally published on 17th November 2013... 

Please watch the clip above before reading on...

Last Saturday I was driving down the road that links the two congregations I serve. I was in a hurry, I had an urgent appointment to make. Someone needed to speak to me over a very important matter, something was seriously troubling him. I remember I was growing increasingly frustrated at the slow moving traffic. I have lost count of number of times I’ve got stuck on that road. By now the weather was beginning to turn quite ugly. The song “Storm Clouds” by New Model Army was blaring out of my stereo, it is an aggressive and intense number. I could feel a bit of a storm brewing inside of me, so I began to connect to my breath and relaxed. As I did I began to look up above the line of traffic, probably in desperation, asking that ludicrous question, why does this always happen to me? As I did I was confronted by an incredible sight, the most intense skyline I have seen in some time. The blackest clouds I can ever recall and just in front of them was a beautiful vision, just the most luminous double rainbow.

I continued onward the traffic was clearing by now and then the heavens opened. Not just bouncing intense rain, but hailstones too. Weather of Biblical proportions I thought. I arrived at my destination and had the privilege of engaging in the most beautiful and open conversation I have had for some time.

I left a few hours later and by now all was once again calm outside. As I walked to my car I recalled the image I had seen in the middle of my frustrations. That double rainbow which shone ever more brightly against those dark thundering storm clouds. This got me thinking once again, more about that song that I had been listening to than the dramatic sky. I was particularly thinking of the chorus and the following lyrics.

“There's a line of shadows on the far horizon. It could be stormclouds and it could be mountains. All my life I've been gazing to the far horizon. It could be stormclouds and it could be mountains.”

It got me thinking about what I see when I look out onto the world. Do I see stormclouds and the terror they can bring or do I see mountains? What do any of us see see when you look out of our windows and gaze at the far horizon?

We are very fortunate in this country that we do not have face the extreme weather conditions that many other people in far off lands have to. We have witnessed once again the horrors that the people in the Philippines have had to face these last few days. Typhoon Hayian has reaped utter destruction and taken thousands of lives. It has caused damage that will take many years to recover from. We can do our bit to offer support, but really there is not much we can do for them. We do what we can; we pray and we send what aid we can, that said we cannot take away their suffering. If only we could! A grim reminder that we are all at the mercy of the elements.

Where do these souls turn in time of trouble? Where do any of us turn in times of trouble?

I was deeply moved by the following words by Crisante E Igama.

"The Typhoon"

In the darkness of the night,
roaring flow of waters,
not a single scream was heard,
outpouring rains and howling winds,
baldness of the mountains uncovered,
giant logs came rushing,
angry rivers eating away the lands,
floating haven,hogs and bodies,
wildly running with the debris,
not a single scream was heard,
only the mad voices of the angry waters,
pulling away the happy memories,
into the rivers, into the sea,
blinded by the thick mud and too much garbage,
in the middle of the night,
hope flickers with a single rope,
cling on, cling on, sing with the rivers,
even the roof detached the dream of yesterday,
sleep and gone with the rivers,
heard a simple and powerful prayer,
help us, help us, please…

"Help us please..." Three of the most humbling words we will ever hear...

Over the last few weeks Psalm 121 has been floating in and out of my consciousness. Several people have quoted the opening verse to me as they have struggled with grief and other distress too. A member of the Altrincham congregation Ann Molyneux who recently moved to the Lake District and whose husband Bill died within weeks of them moving there told me that every morning after Bill died she would look out of her window in Keswick, stare up at the hills that surrounded her and would ask this very question that the Psalm begins with “I lift up my eyes to the hills-from where will my help come?” It’s a good question. Now of course the Psalm answers it in the very next line by stating that God is the help on offer and not the hills themselves.

Now while the hills themselves cannot offer help directly I still suspect that they can point to it, they certainly do for Ann as they have for countless generations. They are symbolic of something larger, something greater something that can hold us in our times of need. The hills that Ann stares at each morning are the very same hills that Wordsworth described in his poetry. His memories of walking them created “spots of time” that held him through darker days later in his life. Hills that generation after generation have come to know through the beauty of his words. Now those hills are not the same hills as those referred to in Psalm, but perhaps they lead to the same summit.

Sometimes by just asking the question we make a beginning, we open a channel, maybe a bridge to something more than self...

The Psalms to me are prayers. They often begin with a question that is cried out and then followed by an answer. How often in life do we all do this? How often do we cry out a prayer? Are these ever answered? Some say no, of course not do not be so naive, but I’m not so sure. I suspect that they are always answered it’s just that we rarely hear the voice of transcendence. We need to learn to listen with the ears of hearts in order for the language of the heart to break through. To listen we need to make the time and space in our lives. This I believe is what those hills point to. They may not quiet the external storms of life but they will give us the courage to walk through them.

When we look out on the far horizon what do we see? Do we see storm clouds or do you see mountains?

And what of the rainbow? What does the rainbow point to? What does the rainbow mean? I don’t mean how is the optical effect created, which is of course fascinating in and of itself. Please do not get me wrong I am not being literal here. No what I mean is what can the rainbow teach us? What does the rainbow symbolise?

The rainbow is central to many of the great religious traditions. In Greek and Roman mythology they were considered a path between Heaven and Earth. There was a similar understanding in ancient Norse Mythology, where they were known as the Bifrost Bridge which connects the homes of the God’s and humans. In Hinduism and other ancient traditions they were considered the bow of various deities.

In the Epic of Gigamesh the rainbow symbolises the jewelled necklace of the Great Mother Ishtar that she lifts into the sky as a promise that she “will never forget these days of the great flood” that destroyed her beloved children. This myth is almost identical to story of Noah’s Ark found in Genesis (Ch 9 vv 13-17) and the great flood. Here the rainbow appeared as a resealing of God’s covenant with his people.

Many people see the rainbow as a symbol of hope for the future, but I think it is more than that. It is also one of connection and not just with the future but all time. This is message that is found in some of those ancient traditions. It seems to be a bridge to the eternal a link between past, present and future. When I look at a rainbow it reminds me of that connection and it is this that sustains me no matter what is going on around me. It’s carried me through many a storm.

At the beginning of this blogspot is a video clip reading of the poem “How the Rainbow Works” by Al Young (If you have not watched it please do so before continuing). He wrote it for Jean Cook a woman he worked alongside who was struggling with grief following the death of her mother; now her grief was not just about the physical loss but also about the fact that she and her mother had never really got on. He also explains that the poem is not only about our connection to those who have died but all that has existed and all that will exist past, present and future. It links every moment to eternity; the rainbow therefore is the bridge between now and eternity. It points to the eternity of all life what happens before we are born, what happens now and what happens beyond. The poem The rainbow therefore depicts the rainbow as a symbol of eternity.

Here is the poem in written form:

“How the Rainbow Works” by Al Young

(for Jean Cook, on learning
of her mother's death)

Mostly we occupy ocular zones, clinging
only to what we think we can see.
We can't see wind or waves of thought,
electrical fields or atoms dancing;
only what they do or make us believe.

Look on all of life as color -
vibratile movement, heart-centered,
from invisibility to the merely visible.
Never mind what happens when one of us dies.
Where were you before you even get born?
Where am I and all the unseeable souls
we love at this moment, or loathed
before birth? Where are we right now?

Everything that ever happened either
never did or always will with variations.
Let's put it another way: Nothing ever
happened that wasn't dreamed, that wasn't
sketched from the start with artful surprises.
Think of the dreamer as God, a painter,
a ham, to be sure, but a divine old master
whose medium is light and who sidesteps
tedium by leaving room both inside and outside
this picture for subjects and scenery to wing it.

Look on death as living color too: the dyeing
of fabric, submersion into a temporary sea,
a spectruming beyond the reach of sensual
range which, like time, is chained to change;
the strange notion that everything we've
ever done or been up until now is past
history, is gone away, is bleached, bereft,
perfect, leaving the scene clean to freshen
with pigment and space and leftover light.

"Where are we right now?" is a very good question indeed

The more I grow and understand the more I see that everything is connected in ways we will probably never fully know or understand. To me this understanding is so central to the religious life. Everything is connected to everything, there is no separation. I’m not just talking about the human family but all life and that that is beyond life. We are not even separated by death. I’ve been thinking of this over the weeks of November. Everything I’ve been experiencing has been connecting me with these thoughts and feelings as I moved through all that I have experienced and witnessed and heard said. Everything is a part of everything, it is not limited by time and space; life is not the beginning and neither is death the end. 

"Sometimes all we need to do is search for what is at the other side of the air." Anon

I have not always thought this way and I know many will think this nonsense, I have thought very differently myself in the past. I may change my mind in the future, but right now my whole senses seem filled with this truth.

When I look out of the windows of my soul through these eyes even when I see storm clouds I know at the other side I will also see those beautiful mountains and I know that I will soon once again glimpse the messenger of hope, the rainbow, and that this will link me to all that is and all that will ever be. By doing so I stop worrying and can once again focus on what I can do instead of what makes me afraid to live the life I have been given. I can offer whatever help I can to my suffering brothers and sisters.

I’d just like to end this little chip of a blogspot with something I recently heard from an anonymous friend.

"There is a rope that connects everyone to God. Sometimes these ropes break. When a broken rope gets retied, however, the distance between us and God becomes shorter."

"Storm Clouds" by New Model Army

D=S-M: Equations and Meaning

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

“The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

These beautiful words touch me so deeply.

I do not think I am different to anyone else. Some days I despair at the world; some days I despair at all that is life; some days I despair at myself. I ask what is the point of all of this? Can I really make a difference? Is there a place for love in this cold, hard, unfeeling world? Some days I feel utterly gripped by despair. Thankfully I do not feel this way very often; thankfully when I do these feelings do not last very long.

I was visited by these feelings of despair, very strongly, only the other day as I was driving home in the pouring rain, tears rolling down my cheeks. I had watched the horrors on the news I had been in the company of people I love and who love me, but who are obviously suffering and it just seemed like too much. I got home and there was a knock at my door, it was the last person in the world I wanted to see. What did I do? Well I welcomed them in, I sat and I listened. I did not turn them away.

And then it happened. As I sat and listened something inside me changed; as we engaged in conversation something inside me turned right around; as I looked at this young man I remembered why I am here. Meaning began to emerge once again from the nothingness, from the emptiness.

The person left and thanked me for my time. I thanked them; I thanked them for reminding me why I am here.

Mathematics has never been my strongest suit. At primary school I was brilliant at mental arithmetic I think in all my time there was only one occasion when I failed to get 10 out 10 during a mental arithmetic test. I remember my cousin once telling that this was because I was the most mental in my family and in my school. She may well be right. What’s amusing is that the comment has stayed with me all these years.

So yes as a small boy I was brilliant at mental arithmetic, but when it came to mathematics and especially understanding and remembering equations, well that was a whole different kettle of fish. I struggled, it just didn’t make sense. I think even then there was a part of me that didn’t like the idea of reducing things down to simple equations. Never made sense to me; never been the way I have looked at life. Even when I studied history and politics I hated the way that economic and social history seemed so often to be reduced to equations. I would stand back and just think to myself, this just doesn’t make any sense. This is not what life is, what history is. What has this got to do with how we live, or used to live? Is life really made up of equations?

Thankfully the world in which we live is made up of very different people than myself; people who can make sense of such things and who truly know their value. Such things are essential to how much of life works.

Now you may well be wondering where the hummer I’m going with all of this. Well there is a point to my meanderings. There is an equation that does in fact make sense to me. You may have even heard of it.

The equation is D=S-M

Despair equals suffering minus meaning.

The equation comes from Viktor Frankl. In “Man’s Search For Meaning” he wrote “Man is not destroyed by suffering; he is destroyed by suffering without meaning.” He discovered that if we have a “why” to live for we can endure anything. More than that actually it is this that allows us to thrive, to be all that we are born to be. To not only improve our lives, but to serve our world.

The question this raises though is how do we uncover meaning? Where do we find meaning in our lives? What about those who tell us that life is essentially meaningless? Is there one meaning? Is there one truth?

Now Frankl would suggest that it is for each of us to discover our own meaning in any given situation. That this is our task; that this meaning may not be in the given moment but in some place in the future; that it is to be found in some purpose or meaning yet to come.

What are the things that hold us and sustains when life seems too much?

Wendell Berry's poem that opens this blogspot, speaks of this. It begins with the following words.

“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 life might be”

There is something universal in these words, I’m sure we have all shared this despair from time to time. It is so easy to look at our world and despair and worry about how things are going to turn out, not only for ourselves but those we love and those who will follow us.

There is more to the poem though. When he feels this way Wendell Berry says that:

“I go down and lie down where the wood drake rests

In his beauty on the water,

And the great heron feeds.”

He connects with nature when he feels despair, when life seems too much with him. It is this that allows him to reach beyond himself to something more.

I believe that the most destructive aspect of despair is that although it is a universal experience when it hits it is so powerfully isolating, it has certainly done so to me over the years. Misery and worry always turn me inward and cut me off from all that is loving and meaningful. To once again find meaning I need to be opened up to all that is, mentally, emotionally, physically and perhaps most importantly spiritually.

Wendell Berry is opened up by nature it is this that brings him that sense of connectedness. He says

“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.

I come into the presence of that stillness and that stillness calms my soul.

This brings to my mind words from Matthew’s Gospel ch 6 vv 25-34 and especially the lines “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
29 yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”

I also hear echoes of the 23rd Psalm too:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

I find it hard to live by equations because for me they reduce life down to nothingness and there is danger here for me. I have found something that sustains me in the storms of life, something that gives me meaning in despair. I can’t really explain what that is. For me to even begin would require me to reduce it. All I know is that when I turn back and out beyond me I experience something infinite something beautiful, something that can only be described as pure love, something that makes me feel whole.

I experience it in nature. Especially for me in the birds, particularly those wild Canadian geese. I experience it with others, when engaged in meaningful and open conversation. I experience when walking round the streets of where I live and look at the faces of the people I meet. I experience it alone, when sitting alone in silence, contemplating the simple fact that I am alive and that I can draw breath. Finally I experience it in prayer when I reach beyond myself to that great mystery that I have come learn is at the core of life, even the aspects I don’t like so much.

In such moments “For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”

Now some will say how can you? that life has no real meaning beyond physical sensation. How can you? Look at the suffering in this world. These are good questions and maybe they are unanswerable and maybe that is not good enough for some people, maybe it is not good enough for anybody. All I know is what I experience and that is the Divine Lure of love in my life, I never lose faith in this, even in those darkest moments. When I turn to it I feel my cup runneth over with abundant love. This tells that even in those darkest moments when despair is closing in I know “that this too shall pass.”

By the way I do not believe that this Great Mystery controls everything, all interactions in life, but I do believe that it is there to hold and guide all physical life. Our task is to turn to it and to be open to it. I know that the day I began to do so that my life has been deep and rich in meaning.

That though is me and my thoughts. What I would like to leave you with this week is something to ponder, something to take with you as you finish reading this and carry on with your life. What gives you meaning, what sustains you when you experience the suffering present in life? And what can you do to not only sustain what holds you in life, but also to develop it?

Remember Frankl’s equation D = S-M. Despair is suffering without meaning. How do we find and develop meaning in our lives, in spite of the inevitable suffering that will always be present?

Viktor Frankl explaining D=S-M

Between Dog And Wolf: When Has The Night Ended?

Have you ever heard the saying “There are two types of people in this world” What do you think of it? Is there truth in it?

Yes? No?

Well I have discovered that there are two types of people in this world, those who think that there are two types of people in this world and those that know that there are not!!!

Of course it is ludicrous to suggest that there are two types of people in this world. We are all formed from the one flesh and we all have the same spirit flowing through us. Divisiveness does not help anyone.

There is a story told of a rabbi in ancient times who gathered his students together very early one morning, while it was still dark. He put this question to them: "How can you tell when night has ended and the day has begun?"

One student made a suggestion: "Could it be when you can see an animal and you can tell whether it is a sheep or a goat?"

"No, that's not it," answered the rabbi.

Another student said: "Could it be when you look at a tree in the distance and you can tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?"

Again the rabbi answered: "No."

After a few more guesses the students said: "Well, how do you tell when night has ended?"

The rabbi answered: "It is when you look on the face of any man or woman and you see them as your brother or sister. If you cannot do this, then, no matter what time it is, it is still night."

What do you see when you look into the face of any man or woman? Do you see them as your brother and or sister?

The nights are becoming longer, as I am sure you have noticed. This often brings with it a sense within us to seek hibernation, to go into ourselves. We need to be careful here, as tempting as it is. When we are hibernating we are not fully awake, we are falling asleep.

It can become difficult to awake from our slumber on these cold, darkening mornings that the Autumn brings. The temptation is to stay in and not awaken to life, to turn inwards and not to live in the world.

This last Tuesday I experienced a lovely example of waking up into the cold Autumn day. Every Tuesday I attend an early morning meditation in the schoolroom at the chapel. Now when my alarm went off at a little before 6am part of me didn’t want to get up and step into the cold darkness of the morning. But I did. I prayed my morning prayers; I sought inspiration from the great mystery and listened to the birds outside my window. I showered and got ready for the day. I then slipped next door for the meditation. We greeted one another with humour and coffee and then we enjoyed silence together in complete darkness. As the silence ended the light was just starting to appear through the windows. We then began to share about our own personal joys and troubles with our spiritual journeys. As everyone spoke I looked at their faces and connected with them and saw in them my own brother and sister, I saw myself reflected back at me. I saw a reflection of the Divine in their eyes and heard it in their words. There was no sense that there were two types of people in the room that morning.

It is so tempting at times to live with this idea that there are two types of people in this world those that are for me and those that are against me; that there are those that are my friends and those who are my foes. It is so easy to be seduced by the need to keep an eagle eye out for ‘foes’, because if we do not they may well cause us harm; that these people are dangerous, even “toxic” and you must keep them out of your life.

There is a French saying “L’heure entre chien et loup” which translates as “The hour between dog and wolf”. The saying is basically describing the time just as the sun is setting, the twilight hours when you cannot really differentiate between dog and wolf, between who is a friend and who is a foe.

The phrase “The hour between dog and wolf?” has only recently come into my consciousness. This is because it is the title of New Model Army’s latest album, as well as the film that has just been made about their strange and enduring career. By the way the album is an absolute sonic masterpiece, their best work for over 20 years...

“Between dog and wolf, between water and wine, between wine and blood.”

By the way I discovered the other day that this week is "Wolf Awareness Week"...A nice bit of synchronicity as I formulated ideas around the time between dog and wolf.

The idea that there are two types of people in this world brings to mind some lyrics from a really old song by New Model Army’s “Better than them” and the words of the chorus...

Divided we were born,divided we live
divided we fall,yeah,divided we die
still we tell ourselves over and over again
we're better than them... (we're better than them)
we're better than them..
We’re not like them, we’re better than them...

"Better Than Them" 

The song is essentially a rant against this sense of superiority and separation that all groups of people and individuals feel from time to time, that sadly some of us feel permanently; this sense that somehow we are better than, or less than other people. It seems to go on in all sections of society and throughout human history. It is there is religion, but also secular society. Some religious groups talk about the saved and the unsaved, others talk of being God’s chosen people. When they speak this way they are talking of a God I do not recognise. The God I know accepts and loves all universally. Experience has revealed to me that we are all chosen by God, it’s just that so many of us turn away and cannot believe that there is a spirit that is there in all life.

Then of course there are the anti-religionists who ridicule people of faith; who see it all as purely infantile projections. They mock, they poke fun, they separate people into the stupid and the wise. They say we are not like them, we’re better than them.

I am no better by the way; I do it too. There are days when I feel superior to other people and there are days when I feel less than them. That said thank God most days I recognise the truth that there is one human family. We are made of the same flesh and we have the same spirit within each of us.

When the epistle Paul talked of the oneness, the unity in Christianity, he wrote that in Christ “there is no longer Jew or Greek.” He did not say that there are no longer Jews or Greeks more that people are no longer separated by these distinctions; that they are all one in love, in body and in spirit; that if all people are viewed in the light they are brothers and sisters to one another.

As Tenzin Gyatso XIVth Dalai Lama has said “Mentally, physically and emotionally we are the same. We each have the potential to be good and bad and to be overcome by disturbing emotions such as anger, fear, hatred, suspicion and greed. These emotions can be the cause of many problems. On the other hand if you cultivate loving kindness, compassion and concern for others, there will be no room for anger, hatred and jealousy.

These words very much chime with a favourite story of mine, “The Two Wolves"

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life.

“A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It’s a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, ego and it makes me cynical about life.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, faith and it fills me with enthusiasm for life. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

Where does this sense of superiority come from, this sense that we are somehow better than other people? Where does this fear of some people come from? Well I believe it comes from habit. We are taught to fear the stranger who is not exactly like us, we are taught to separate one another, to see the difference. Habits, especially fear based ones, are hard to break.

This brings to mind a tale I recently came across...

"There is a story from the middle ages about a poor farmer whose plow one day hit an iron box that was buried in his field. When he opened up this box, he found inside a scroll which gave directions to a fantastic treasure. It said that on a certain part of the beach on the shore of the Black Sea there was a magic pebble. If you rubbed this pebble against any kind of metal it would turn that metal into gold. Now this pebble looked like every other pebble, but you could identify it by touch. If you picked up the other pebbles, they would be cold. But the magic pebble would be warm.

Now this story seemed unreliable, but the farmer believed in it. He sold all that he had and moved to the shore of the Black Sea. He began his search for this great treasure. There were of course millions of pebbles on the beach, and it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But he began resolutely. He would pick up a pebble. If it was cold (and therefore not the magic one), he would hurl the pebble into the sea. Then he would then pick up the next pebble. He followed this pattern hour after hour, day after day, and year after year. Pick up the pebble. It is cold. Throw it into the sea. Pick up the next pebble. He never gave up. He kept trying until one day, a rather ordinary day, he picked up a pebble and it was warm. Then, in shear force of habit, he threw it into the sea."

The man was so used to throwing the stone in the sea that when he finally picked up the hot stone he just threw it into the sea without thinking. Habitual thinking and behaving are not easy things to break free from.

So how do we get to the place where we can tell when the night has ended, where when we look into someone else’s eyes we see our brother and our sister. How do we get out of the habit of separating people into one camp or another? Well I believe it begins by us waking up to reverence in one another and to practise loving kindness each and every day. This is not easy. I know this from personal experience. Every day I find myself putting up the barriers of separation; every day I find myself doing all I can to ensure that they come tumbling back down again. It is perhaps a whole life times work and perhaps beyond, this moving from night to day. That said I believe it is possible and we can begin aspiring to it right here right now. We just need to wake up.

It can begin with your next encounter. When you look into the eyes of the next person you meet, what do you see?

I am going to end this little chip of a blogspot with a story from the life of the Buddha.

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

"No," said the Buddha.

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

Again the Buddha answered, "No."

"Are you a man?" "No."

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

The Buddha replied, "I am awake."


The night has ended and the day has begun.

We need to be awake.

"Between Dog and Wolf"

Hauling Out Stones: Reconciling Ourselves

In “Eternal Echoes” John O’Donohue wrote:

“When personal guilt in relation to a past event becomes a continuous cloud over your life, you are locked in a mental prison. You have become your own jailer. Although you should not erase your responsibility for the past, when you make the past your jailer, you destroy your future. It is such a great moment of liberation when you learn to forgive yourself, let the burden go, and walk out into a new path of promise and possibility. Self-compassion is a wonderful gift to give yourself.

And D. Patrick Miller wrote “Never forget to forgive yourself is to release trapped energy that could be doing good in the world.”

I wonder sometimes if we ever reconcile, if we ever put things right with ourselves; I wonder sometimes if the reason we find it hard to move on with our lives and do all that we can to serve our world is because we have never released ourselves from our own shame and guilt. How many of us can honestly say they have become fully reconciled with every aspect themselves?

What I mean by this is how many of us have truly reconciled ourselves with our whole selves? I know I still find it hard to truly forgive myself for the way I have been in my darkest days. For the way I viewed myself, others and the world in which I live. It is hard for me to truly recognise that man today, but I know I must if I am to understand everyone I come into contact with; If I am love them without prejudice; if I am to serve life; if I am to minister, which of course means to serve.

Over the last few days I have been remembering a time of my life, just 10 years ago. I have been re-connecting, reconciling myself with the memory. I see this as a truly religious act; remember religion comes from "religare" which means to re-bind. It is an attempt to reconcile myself with this man, something I feel I must do if I am to truly minister; it is something I must do so as to release me to do all that I can in the world.

The image that has been speaking to me is of a reflection of myself in a shop window, ten years ago almost to the day and the utter hatred I felt for that figure looking back at me. It was initially just a glimpse out of the corner of my eye and then I stopped, I paused and realised just how much I hated the man looking back at me in the glass. Now I know this sounds dreadful but it was a real turning point in my life, from that moment forward things began to change. I am so far removed from that figure today and yet this man was me, is me, but I find it very hard to recognise him and there is a part of me that still cannot love him, that doesn’t want to know him, that rejects him.

Of all the stories that Jesus told I think it is the “Parable of the Prodigal Son” (Luke Ch 15 vv 11-31) that speaks most powerfully to me. It is a universal tale that speaks on so many levels about the blessings and troubles with forgiveness and reconciliation. There are three characters in the tale a father and his two sons. The youngest son squanders his inheritance on a hedonistic lifestyle, he loses everything. In desperation he sells himself into slavery and due to a great famine finds himself close to starvation. It is at this point of utter despair and hopelessness that he remembers where he has come from, he remembers his father and reasons that even his father’s slaves have a better life than him. So he returns home to throw himself on his father's mercy, not as his son but as a slave. On hearing he is returning his father rushes to meet him. As his son atones his father does more than forgive him. He kisses him, a beautiful touch of intimacy and orders that the fatted calf be slaughtered and a huge party of much rejoicing be held, to celebrate the return of his son who was once lost but now is found.

The parable of "The Prodigal Son" is a beautiful tale of redemption and forgiveness, but is it a realistic one? If only it was that easy. Well actually there is so much more to this story than has already been discussed, there is another character who does not find forgiveness so easy to come by. There is the other brother who refuses to rejoice and celebrate the returning of his long lost sibling. Quite the opposite in fact, he is angry, he is indignant, he will not reconcile with his brother and is now at odds with his father. In fact he does not even refer to the "prodigal" as his own brother. Instead he names his as “This son of yours” and by doing so disowns him emotionally. He tells his father all he has done for him and yet has received nothing in return for his good and virtuous life. His father pleads with him and then utters the immortal words, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” He tells his older son that all that is his belongs to him and also reminds him that this brother of his has returned from the dead. He reminds him that he is his brother and therefore a part of him. They were all three of them once bound together and now need to be once again reconciled, they need to be re-bound. Reconciliation is a deeply religious act.

I wonder sometimes if I myself have become like the older brother who really would rather not recognise the younger brother who is a part of me. It is not easy to forgive ourselves for our failings. I think sometimes I would prefer to disown that aspect of myself, but I know that this is not the right way, the loving way. I know if I want to truly be of service to this world I need to be fully reconciled with all that I am, so as to be able to love without prejudice. I also need to recognise that in each and every person exists each of the three “Prodigal Son” characters. The one who is returning seeking forgiveness, the one offering forgiveness and the one who can feel rejected and neglected by this expression of love. Reconciliation is a process and one that takes time; it is a long journey but one that is certainly worth embarking upon. It is far from easy, but it is without a shadow of a doubt worth embarking upon.

So how do we begin the journey? How do we forgive ourselves for our own short comings? How do we reconcile every aspect of ourselves? How can we once again be at peace with our distracted hearts and minds? How do we, imperfect as we all are, return home? How do we accept that kiss of reconciliation? How we do we once again accept those aspects of ourselves that have rejected the love offered to us?

Some may ask why do we need to reconcile ourselves? This is all self indulgence; we just need to get on with our lives. Well if only we could. So many people seem to endlessly punish themselves. How often I have heard people in just the last few weeks say that "They are ashamed of themselves" for all manner of small things. I wonder if it is the small things that has caused this feeling or whether it is something much deeper hidden within them. If I have learnt anything in life I have learnt that if we do not forgive ourselves and fully reconcile ourselves with every part of our being we will not be able to fully live in our world and give to our world all that we able to give. The fruits of life are there for all of us to delight in and yet so many still feel unworthy of them, this saddens me.

I have learnt that the journey of reconciliation begins with listening. We need to listen "with ears of our hearts". We need to learn to listen to ourselves and to one another. This allows us to draw closer to one another and to those aspects of ourselves we would rather keep hidden, locked away. This often requires seeking counsel from someone else, someone who can understand in a none judgemental way.

In the Catholic tradition there exists the “Sacrament of Reconciliation”, more commonly known as confession. Now the picture that is often painted of this is that it is an attempt to seek forgiveness from the priest or from God, but there is so much more to it than this. The real gift of this sacrament is that it creates a sacred space where a person can speak openly with another human being about what has been haunting them. By sharing our struggles with another human being we are literally getting them out of our heads and therefore giving these ghosts from the past and or present air to breathe, thus enabling us to see them with new, with fresh eyes. It allows us a new perspective on ourselves and our own lives. It allows us to fully reconcile ourselves with every aspect of our being, something that is difficult nay impossible if attempted alone. This is why intimate friends are so vital, why counsellors and therapists are important and why ministers, priests, rabbis, priestesses and Imams play such a vital role in people’s lives.

We all need a place where we can go, where someone will draw close to us and listen as we come close to who we are in all our hope and despair. Where we can truly reveal all that we are “warts and all and beauty spots too.” Where we can be taken out of our silent isolation, where the stones of our imperfection can begin to be hauled out.

This idea is near perfectly illustrated in the following poem by Nancy Shaffer:

“Hauling Out Stones” by Nancy Shaffer

Once, he said an odd thing:

Forgiving begins with someone

sitting near.

Later, he said, It isn’t for the one

who did the hurting.

It’s the other one who needs it.

One day, without warning,

he wept.

I sat close.

He told an old hurt

in half-sentences and single words

like stones he was coming upon, new;

like tree limbs, broken,

which he needed both arms for hauling aside.

A half-dozen times that summer we sat,

he weeping, hauling out stones,

gathering limbs; I near.

The stones got smaller,

his sentences, longer.

He said, It’s the crying part

I couldn’t do by myself.

And later he said, I feel cleaned out.

A wan smile.

Still later, he said,

I think I’ve done it.

Made a kind of peace, he meant.

He slapped his palm hard against mine.

Laughed. Slapped his palm again.

Reconciliation begins by finding someone we can truly be ourselves with; it begins by finding someone who by drawing close can help us begin to truly reconcile ourselves, which ever son or daughter or father or mother you are. If you are anything like me, which I suspect most people are, you are no doubt a bit of each.

To fully live, to not get weighed down by the past requires reconciliation on every level. To truly be all we can be in this world of ours we must learn to forgive, not to forget quite the opposite actually. We need to remember, we need to re-member, we need to rejoin together all that we are. For me I need to not only learn to smile and love that man who looks back at me in mirror today but the one from 10, 20, 30, 40 years ago. For others that might be something different.. That said I firmly believe that reconciliation begins when we draw closer to ourselves and to one another.