Ascension Day - Reasons to be Joyful

Taking some time out today: a Windermere walk in prospect.

Yesterday was Ascension Day, one of the great festivals of the Christian church yet often overlooked. Maybe because it's middle of the week, and people are busy with their everyday lives. (It's always a Thursday because it's 40 days after Easter - the period between the Resurrection and Jesus' return to heaven.) Time was when this was a public holiday, and not so long ago our church schools took it as a day off. It appears that the Catholic church has admitted defeat on this: at one of our services yesterday there was a 'rebel' (her word) Catholic, who wanted to keep the day but said she had come as a kind of protest since in her church the Ascension was being observed on Sunday.

Somehow, having a Christian festival not on a Sunday invites us to consider what determines our priorities. If we really shape our lives around the Christian story, would we not want to ensure that work and other commitments at least include these landmarks in the Christian year? I'm not suggesting a day off - but at least early morning or evening worship if at all possible.

We had four services yesterday, in our different churches! I was reflecting on the disciples' joy as they returned to Jerusalem after Jesus had left them. Why joy? Why not sorrow at the parting? Why not apprehension at the mission with which he had commissioned them? I suggested 3 reasons:

1. Jesus trusted them with his own work. He had confidence in them, and had trained them well.
2. Jesus blessed them (I'd love to know what he actually said by way of blessing). How affirming is that?
3. Jesus opened the door to heaven, reminding them that their life's journey would end not in death but in a heavenly home.

I won't repeat here yesterday's sermon! But I think we can find joy in these things too.

'Happy Valley'

I admit, I sometimes listen to Woman's Hour - and I know I'm not the only bloke who does. There's been an interesting discussion this week about Happy Valley - a 5-part drama serial, BBC1 on Tuesday evenings. Les and I are totally gripped by it though it wasn't a good idea to watch the last episode on 'catch-up' rather late at night last Tuesday!

The discussion was about what the story shows of violence towards women: are they merely being portrayed as victims of men's lust and cruelty. There are some violent scenes for sure - especially this week - but I must admit it never occurred to me that they were either too graphic or gratuitous. Nor that they showed showed a negative image of women. I am full of admiration for the lead actor, Sarah Lancashire, who plays a police sergeant. She is on the trail of an evil young man who raped her daughter (who, having given birth, commits suicide), and has now kidnapped another young woman whom he has also violated. As part of the story, this same young man viciously kills an up-and-coming female police officer by running her over in the kidnapped woman's car. It sounds bad, put plainly like this, but there are many other layers to it and Sarah Lancashire is by turns tough - even violent (see what she does to a youth who mocks someone being sectioned and taken into custody!) - tender and compassionate, vulnerable and sensitive, courageous and strong, intuitive and very professional. Her character seems to me a brilliant female role model. Her acting is superb: conveying sometimes only by actions and expressions, a whole range of feelings and emotions.

Two episodes to go. Watch earlier episodes on catch-up and see what you think.

I've had two consecutive nights out this week. On Thursday, to see Under Milk Wood with Les at the Playhouse; and last night to see Mercury - a Queen tribute band - with our Chris at Port Sunlight. (The latter, because of tickets kindly donated to me by a church member.) Both, for totally different reasons, really enjoyable. I really love live music and theatre and both were great productions.

Under Milk Wood is basically a long poem, describing 24 hours in the life of a Welsh village. It was written by Dylan Thomas, and completed only weeks before is death in 1953, at the age of just 39. The programme's biography of Thomas states that 'cultivating his poetic image' of himself - chain-smoking, heavy drinking, recklessly careless about his future - really rather suited him, and of course was the cause of his early death.

Something similar could be said of Freddy Mercury, lead singer of the original Queen who was only 45 when he died, after a life of wild excess. Why is that so many of the world's greatest talents in the arts are so careless about themselves that, having entertained us so well, they are unable to stay the course? I wonder if it is something to do with alter ego, falling in love with an image of oneself, so that one becomes disconnected from the real person. Somehow imagining oneself invincible. The human maturing process requires an integration of one's best hopes and dreams with hard realities about oneself and awareness of the needs of those around you.

Lindisfarne

I didn't mention last time that we have a new bishop, Paul Bayes. He is currently, Bishop of Hertford - Diocese of St Albans, from which I originally came. So he must be good! Actually, he seems to have many credentials for our diocese: ecumenically trained, and with great experience in evangelism, church planting, and 'new ways of being church.' I'm sure we will welcome him with open arms, and with a great deal of prayer.

Yesterday, I returned from Lindisfarne where I had been on retreat with 11 other members of our churches. It was a wonderful few days, blessed by mainly good weather, and with excellent food and hospitality. There's something about that place that just draws you into itself from the moment you arrive, and the worship in the parish church - though with familiar liturgies - seems to be fresh and invigorating. Lindisfarne is 'the cradle of English Christianity', from where centuries ago Aidan and his disciples left, schooled in prayer and godly living, to bring the Good News to our ancestors. It is a place of blessing, which somehow sends you away wanting to bless others, with a joyful heart.

I have booked another week next year - 4 nights this time - 18-22 May 2015. So book it now, if you're interested in joining me!

This year, our thoughts were led by a good friend of mine, Graham Booth, who is one of three Guardians of the Aidan & Hilda Community, of which I am a member. His theme was 'God in Creation' and the journey of faith. He spoke about the 'macro' and 'micro' aspects of God's world: the huge vistas of skies and seascapes, and the tiniest details of the plant and insect world. All speaking of a God of infinite imagination and creativity. We looked at several relevant Bible passages, together with quotations from writers, ancient and modern. How about this from Abraham Lincoln? - I can see how it might be possible for a man to look down upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how he could look up into the heaven and say there is no God. Developing a sense of awe and wonder in creation is surely essential for our worship of God.

I had my own experience of this as I went walking around the island one afternoon. On the north-east corner of the island, great breakers roll in from the North Sea. They were big enough when I was there, but clearly had been bigger in the past. Near the cliff there was a great mound of large pebbles and rocks, together with large lumps of wood, which had obviously been deposited by a rough and wild sea. Fearsome power! By contrast, in the meadow areas, among many buttercups and daisies - the most prominent of meadow flowers - there were some tiny, pink perfectly formed flowers with 6 or 8 petals, no more than 2 or 3 millimeters across. I have no idea what they were, but they were exquisite in their beauty. 'The Lord God made them all' - roaring waves and minute flowers, each calling attention to our Creator.

So back to life in Liverpool,with a good heart. As always, after a retreat, I try to put into practice some of the things I have learned while away. Retreat to advance, as the saying goes.

Death & dying

A great night last night: went with my friend Glen to Manchester to see 'Yes' - a 70s rock band making what looked like their farewell world tour. Well, most of them are late 60s/70ish and they can't go on for ever! It was amazing: they played all the tracks from 3 of their earliest albums, back to back, and were as accomplished as ever, even with a new singer and keyboard player. Their individual musicianship and harmony with each other were incredibly impressive. It was one of those evenings that lifts the spirits and somehow makes you feel that anything is possible. I've woken up still hearing some of their songs. Must dig out those CDs again sometime.

It had been an interesting 24 hours to say the least. A full 'parish' day yesterday, including marriage preparation session (6 couples, which was great), a wedding rehearsal, a 90th birthday party, as well as all the usual bits of admin, emails etc. But I only returned from Rugby earlier in the morning, having spent Friday with my sisters, one of whom lives there and the other who'd travelled up from Hampshire. We have promised each other to keep in touch, since Mum died last year, and the main business of the day was to agree on a gravestone! It took us 2 or 3 hours but we got there. You wouldn't believe how many choices you have to make, even with something like that: colour, make and shape of stone; inscription, plus any additional design such as a cross. Of course, it was the wording of the inscription that took the longest, but we got there.

But we did ask, 'why are we doing this?' It's a lot of money, even for something fairly modest. We laughed at one point, as we counted the number of letters - because each character adds to the cost - as we could just hear mum tutting at what we were doing. We're not sure she would have approved, but then we didn't need her approval did we? We concluded that this was, first, about 'honouring our mother and father', like the Good Book says; but also a kind of 'sermon in stone'. What we said on the stone would be read by many for years to come. How could we invite them to reflect on the importance of a life well-lived, and the Christian hope of resurrection? We were also aware that those who remembered mum and dad, as much-loved pastors of the local parish church, would be glad of a suitable memorial. Anyway, we agreed on something together and now we wait to hear how much it will all cost.

I couldn't help thinking of Spike Milligan's gravestone epitaph: I told you I was ill.

And here's some food for thought. While I was away, I read a piece about the Archbishop of Canterbury's new evangelism adviser, Canon Chris Russell (who happens to be my nephew's vicar). He says that every year on his birthday he assumes this will be the last day of his life (he's in his 40s). This is not to be morbid, but he believes that facing who we are and our own death does bring a clarity to our living. This is not about feeling you have to do something worthwhile, which is disastrous as it just puts pressure on yourself to perform in some way. Rather, with Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Russell suggests, the big question is how is the future generation going to live? Knowing that I am going to die means that I need to concentrate on the people who are coming after me. I find that both inspiring and humbling.

Rev

Last week, at a social event, I was quizzed by a young female student about my job. Questions like 'Do you get paid?' 'Is it only on Sundays?' 'Do you do anything apart from services in church?' You can easily forget how little people know about church, from the outside. I was interested (and pleased!) that she was interested!

If you've been watching Rev on BBC2 you might have wondered how true to life it is. The producers have been surprised at its popularity, which is causing it to be franchised in other countries now. What started off as a gentle comedy has taken on a greater depth and realism than was apparent in the first series. The researchers and producers have done a great job. The penultimate episode, shown in Easter week, had streams of tears running down my face. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it was the way the vicar (Adam Smallbone), having lost his job, walks in imitation of Christ, carrying a cross down a London high street, until on top of a hill he sings and dances to 'Lord of the Dance' until a 'ministering angel' (in the person of Liam Neeson) appears to comfort him. I found the pathos of the whole sequence almost unbearable.

What you realise from these several episodes is the almost impossible nature of the vicar's job, having to combine a number of skills (if you can) which might normally be employed by one person at a time. For example, you have to manage staff, take care of hundreds of thousands of pounds-worth of real estate, deal with some really messed-up people on the margins of society, perform in public several times a week, read and think clearly like a scholar, know the law (civil and ecclesiastical), fund-raise and balance the books, respond to the latest requests from the diocese, sit alongside people at some of the key moments of their lives, often at their most vulnerable, pray and be holy. And all the time being nice to everyone! Of course, you don't do it all yourself, and many of these responsibilities are shared, but the feeling of being ultimately responsible is unavoidable - as Adam is constantly being reminded by the Archdeacon!

It's not getting any easier. Adam's predicament is not unlike that of many actual vicars, particularly in inner-city churches. Most churches are now in decline, so financial and maintenance worries stack up. It's easy to blame yourself. At one of our annual meetings, I was asked what I was doing about our declining numbers; and I have since received a letter from someone in despair, who is convinced their church is dying. I said at the meeting we have to realise that what's happening locally is part of what's happening nationally, so beating ourselves up about it is no help. It's not our fault it's happening - but there is a challenge to be faced. I don't believe that challenge is 'how do we get more people to come to church?' Rather, it is to recover a sense of what the church is actually called to be: in word and action showing the Way of Christ, and inviting others to walk that way with him. As long as we are preoccupied with our own survival, we are doomed. And we are unfaithful to the spirit of Christ, who calls us to lose our lives for his sake and the sake of the Gospel (Mark 8.35)

One of the many positives of the Rev series is the way Adam continues his interior dialogue with God, and his faith remains. Although his church closes and he is in despair, the series ends with a tiny flicker of hope as - on Easter Day - a motley collection of parishioners, down-and-outs and diocesan personnel celebrate the Easter vigil together and Adam baptises his own baby. One senses that the Easter faith remains strong, though church-as-you-know-it passes away.

There is the message, it seems to me. We are to be a (motley?) community of the Resurrection, committed to each other as to God, bearing a message of hope to the needy, to neighbourhood and to nation in ways which reflect an authentic life lived in God.