St John of the Cross (1542-1591) says this in a letter:
‘And where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love.’
John writes this with the challenges of living in a Christian community in mind. I am wondering, however, if this statement may also be relevant for us as we focus on remembrance this November.
The Feast of All Saints reminds us of a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us and giving us an example of Christian faith:
celebrating people who know how to put love where there is no love and thus make a difference in the world.
All Souls focuses our attention on people we love but see no longer.
We are reminded that grief is a price we pay for love; but also that, as we remember loved ones, we really continue to put love where there is grief: trusting that we will draw love from the realms of everlasting life, light and peace.
Remembrance Sunday, then, reminds us of the difficulties of war & armed conflict (and the pain violence brings to all of us – for in war, most people will be victims). As we pray for peace, we are invited to pledge ourselves to love where there is no love so that God may use us as peacemakers, drawing deeply from the wells of God’s salvation, mercy, and love.
Yours in Christ,
Seven years ago, in October 2016, I wrote my first Rector’s Letter for the HT Magazine after having arrived in Stirling. In that letter, I wrote this:
‘I am very much looking forward to meeting all of you and to sharing the journey of Christian discipleship in all its different shapes, forms and guises. Holy Trinity is certainly a good place for this journey, and I am curious as to where our path(s) will take us as we travel together.’
I find this still very much true seven years later: HT is a good place for sharing a journey, and I am still curious where God is taking us as we combine our individual paths to walk the Way of Christ.
While, in biblical terms, seven is a number of perfection & completion (think, for example, about the story of creation, stretched over a period of seven days), there is nothing perfect or complete about our joint journeying these past seven years – and how could there be? God is always calling us, nudging us, inspiring us to explore new stretches of the road set before us. What we can trust in, however, is that God is with us as we travel together.
A prayer for the road:
My dearest Lord,attrib. St Columba
be thou a bright flame before me,
be thou a guiding star above me,
be thou a smooth path beneath me,
be thou a kindly shepherd behind me,
today and for evermore.
Yours in Christ,
During September, we will, once again, observe the Season of Creation at HT: an opportunity to focus on giving thanks for the gifts of creation and life, but also for highlighting the need for sustainable living in the face of climate change.
At the General Synod of the Scottish Episcopal Church this year, a Net Zero Action Plan was approved, aiming to help churches in their action in relation to the global climate emergency and in working towards achieving net zero carbon emissions by 2030. At HT, we will be working with this Net Zero Toolkit to inform our decision-making in all aspects of our church life.
Our personal responses to this are also important as we work on ‘sustainable living’ in our own spheres of life: we do not stop being HT just because we’re not on the premises in Albert Place!
Worship and prayer are important tools in this, as the Net Zero Action Plan reminds us: as we pray for healing of what has been damaged, provide a space to process climate grief or transform climate anxiety, we will also continue to celebrate life and creation (and take our roles in sustaining and protecting the world seriously).
As Shirley Erena Murray so aptly put into hymnody:
Touch the earth lightly,
use the earth gently,
nourish the life of the world in our care:
gift of great wonder,
ours to surrender,
trust for the children tomorrow will bear.
Yours in Christ,
This year, we are celebrating 145 Years of Holy Trinity Stirling in our present church building (which was finished in 1878). This means that we are half-way through our vision planning (HT from 140 to 150) as we look forward to a special anniversary in 2028.
HT Vestry recently have met for a Vision Day to discuss matters of worship & spirituality, community and outreach as well as fabric and building – and how those different strands may be interwoven to make up HT now, and in the years to come. Watch this space and (continue to) be ready to join in!
As we celebrate 145 Years and look towards the future, we realise that the story of Holy Trinity and the Episcopal Church in Stirling is a much longer one. There were different meeting & worship spaces over time and there was even a (much smaller) Holy Trinity church building in Barnton Street (built in 1845) – so Holy Trinity extends quite a bit further back in the Christian presence in Stirling.
There is a very powerful symbol of this longer presence in use at HT on Sundays. We typically use two chalices for the administering of the communion wine at the Eucharist: one is from 1880 (made for the present church building), but the other one is from 1845 (when the previous building was dedicated). Those chalices are not museum pieces, but living memories and living vessels to hold Communion (which is at the heart of our Christian experience and practice at HT).
Christ is held in our story and in one another as we seek to become disciples and vessels for Christ at HT now and in the years to come as we continue to weave together worship & spiritual growth, community & outreach and fabric & the buildings entrusted to us – as we live the continued story of God and go deeper into the mystery of Christ’s presence with us.
Yours in Christ,
The editor has tasked us to share sounds we love for inclusion in this edition of the HT magazine. This exercise made me reflect on the sound of worship as experienced at Holy Trinity, for our worship is full of sound: most obviously, perhaps, there is music and the spoken word.
But there are also other sounds which contribute to our worship experience. The rustling of paper, the sound of the light switch at the lectern, the voices and feet of children (if we are so lucky to have some in attendance), the sound of a congregation rising from their seats, and many more sounds contribute to our worship experience at HT. Additionally, the building itself has a voice by virtue of its acoustics, thus joining in and reverberating our worship.
But the sound I am most aware of is what the Bible calls ‘a sound of sheer silence’. Silence in worship isn’t just the absence of sound (in fact, it might not be completely silent): silence in worship is shaped by word and music as we pause to hear God speak more clearly in the stillness of our hearts.
I do enjoy this sound of silence at HT: as we collectively pause to listen more intently to what God may be speaking into our hearts at that moment in time and in our lives.
Here is the biblical blueprint for this specific sound as Elijah travels to Mount Horeb to meet God:
The angel said to Elijah:
‘Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’
Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind;
and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake;
and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire;
and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.
When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
Then there came a voice to him that said, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’1 Kings 19.11-13
How do we hear that sound of sheer silence? And what will we do with it?
Yours in Christ,
The month of May will be a time of focus on the Holy Spirit for us at Holy Trinity: on the last Sunday of the month, we’ll celebrate the Feast of Pentecost, recalling the gift of the Holy Spirit inspiring and strengthening the Church. The week before, on Sunday 21st May, Bishop Ian will be with us to lead a Service of Confirmation at HT, invoking the gift of the Holy Spirit on our confirmation candidates by the laying on of hands and the anointing with chrism oil.
Both of these occasions (and the days in between) will form a kind of ‘mini-season’ of the Holy Spirit, reminding us of the importance of the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives and in our discipleship.
The Holy Spirit is key to our lives: as a comfort and strength; as inspiration and guide; as creative force or loving presence. How does the Holy Spirit show in your life? In ‘gut-feeling’ or signs? In inspiration or strength for a task at hand? What does the presence of the Spirit mean to you in everyday life?
In whatever way the Spirit shows, one thing is important to remember: the presence of the Holy Spirit will always be bigger than we can fathom or imagine. The Spirit cannot be caged in! As Christ says in John’s Gospel: ‘The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ (John 3.8)
In this sense, I wish you a freeing and deep Spirit-led season.
Yours in Christ,
Easter is at the core of the Christian Faith as we ponder Christ’s rising from the tomb in new life out of death and bringing joy out of grief. It is not surprising, therefore, that the celebration of Easter (and Holy Week leading up to it) have been central from the days of the Early Church onwards. Holy Week & Easter is, of course, still the most central observance for us here at Holy Trinity as we re-enter the drama and message of these most holy moments in the sacred time of our Church Year.
In order to arrive at Easter, we need to journey through the happenings of Holy Week – from Palm Sunday and Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem to the Last Supper and the sign of loving service in the washing of the disciples’ feet; and from suffering and death on the cross to the realising of new life. I notice, however, that it can be easy to stop journeying and either get stuck in a perpetual Good Friday or ignore its message altogether. Neither is helpful for Easter people. Yet, we may feel that we do not want to deal with suffering and pain or feel that we can see nothing but suffering in and around us – with no discernible way out.
Yet, Christ’s sacrifice on the cross is so powerful not because of perfect suffering but because of perfect love: Christ remains in love throughout, even in the face of suffering and pain which ‘opens a door that no one can shut’ (Revelation 3.8), allowing God’s light to shine in all the world and us to walk in the knowledge of that perfect love which makes, redeems and inspires us always.
As we journey from the cross to the empty tomb and beyond into Easter joy, we may want to remember that love; that love which gives us breath and life; that love which invites us to join in with God in life; that love which sustains us and calls us to life and eventually out of this life to rise with Christ this Easter and always.
As George Herbert wrote:
Rise heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him mayst rise:
That, as his death calcined thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and much more, just.
Yours in Christ,
During Lent this year, we are running a course on the Basics of the Christian Faith & Peculiarities of the Episcopal Tradition. Even if you are not taking part in the groups, there is a question worth asking ourselves: What are the basics of my faith in God?
There are life basics, such as food, clothes and shelter, without which life is difficult (and we are very much aware of people who lack any of those life basics in our prayers and in the way we offer practical help). Indeed, Christ says that we all need the basic things for life, but first we are to seek the Kingdom of God (Matthew 6.32-33).
In the light of this, the question we may want to ask ourselves is this: What are the basics we need for seeking God? Prayer, worship, study? A sense of love and zeal for the Gospel? Meditation or action?
There are many ways, which lead us to a deeper understanding of God in our lives. Whatever our way, the outcome will always be related to deeper life as we kneel in God’s presence.
As T S Eliot puts it in one of my favourite poems:
If you came this way,T S Eliot, Four Quartets: Little Gidding
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid.
Wishing you all a deep and prayerful Lent.
Yours in Christ,
We sometimes talk of ‘being on the way’ when referring to our Christian discipleship. This is not least, because ‘the Way’ seems to have been a term used by the very early Christians when talking about the Church (particularly in the Acts of the Apostles).
I very much like this idea of Christian discipleship being ‘the Way’, because it means that we do not have to have arrived somewhere firm in order to be disciples.
We do not have to be experts or a particular example of holiness: it is ok to journey, to be unsure about things, or even to feel that we really know very little about God and Christ in order to walk with God.
In the Greek of the New Testament, the word for ‘the way’ (‘hae hodos’) is a curious one: usually words in Greek ending in -os are masculine; but hodos is feminine as the article ‘hae’ tells us: so the word the early Christians chose for the Church is one that combines male and female imagery as well as being a word of journeying – and I don’t think that is a coincidence. The Early Church seems to have had an inclusiveness we ought to learn from!
Whoever we are, we are invited to walk with God; to be on the Way.
Being on the Way does not mean having all the answers, but learning to ask questions.
Being on the Way means allowing for growth and encounter with God (and fellow pilgrims) as we walk together into a deeper understanding of God and life.
HT is part of the Way: as we, together, walk (looking out for one another) more deeply into God’s Kingdom.
I am indeed very grateful to be on the Way with you,
The poet Elizabeth Jennings (1926-2001) wrote these lines as part of an Advent poem in her Christmas Sequence:
O let us, even in our fear, join hands
As we think of a story that is old
Yet new each year. It is a mystery
How God took time and entered history.
As we enter into a new Church Year with the beginning of Advent, into a new Calendar Year in January and into the annual celebration of Christmas, cycles, time, and new beginnings may be on our mind. Every year brings change as we re-live our annual cycles and patterns.
In the light of this, it is powerful to think of Christmas in the way Elizabeth Jennings invites us to do: how a happening once some 2000 years ago not only changed the world then, but also how it still changes us year after year. There is always change, for that is part of the fabric of life. But there is also transformation: when we actively seek to be changed into God’s image and plan for us and then allow God’s mystery to transform us.
God, indeed, still takes time and enters history, as Christ is born in our hearts this year and always – and works in unexpected ways in our own history.
In this sense, I wish you a deep and purposeful Advent, a light-filled and mysterious Christmas, and a happy New Year.
Yours in Christ,
This month, we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King – as we always do on the last Sunday of the Church Year before the
season of Advent starts.
Christ as the King is a frequent subject in Christian art, and Holy Trinity has its own Christ the King depicted in its great east window. Indeed, the image of Christ has been depicted in countless ways, changing with times and with different approaches to spiritual thought.
‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever’, it says in the Letter to the Hebrews (13.8), but that does not mean that we won’t see different things in Christ as we change and grow.
As images of Christ change with time (and our own spiritual reflections on Christ change too), we may want to ask what kind of king we understand Christ to be. How helpful is the image of kingship, when reflecting on Christ’s example and presence among us?
The Benedictine nun Delores Dufner reflects on exactly this key question in one of her hymn texts (another form of art) that we sing at HT and might help us explore the image of Christ the King in a different way:
1 O Christ, what can it mean for us
to claim you as our king?
What royal face have your revealed
whose praise the church would sing?
2 You came, the image of our God,
to heal and to forgive,
to shed your blood for sinners’ sake
that we might rise and live.
3 Though some would make their greatness felt
and lord it over all,
you said the first must be the last
and service be our call.
4 You chose a humble human form
and shunned the world’s renown;
you died for us upon a cross
with thorns your only crown.
5 But still, beyond the span of years,Delores Duffner OSB
our glad hosannas ring,
for now at God’s right hand you reign,
a different kind of king!
© 1991, 1993 GIA Publications Inc.
One License # 94012
May this hymn reflection help us see Christ’s image in yet a different light.
Yours in Christ,
“…your name is perfume poured out…” (Song of Songs 1.3)
In one of his sermons on the Song of Songs, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) reflects on the gifts we receive from God: some gifts are for our benefit (so that we may better find God), others are clearly meant for sharing. Indeed, many of our gifts and talents are meant to be poured into the world, just as the Holy Spirit pours them into us.
In a world where there seems to be crisis on top of crisis, this can be an anxiety-inducing thought. We might feel that we have little to give anyway and may feel that what we do contribute makes little difference. Our own life circumstances may be affected by various crises and we might feel exhausted and ‘poured out’ in life and ministry.
Bernard is aware of this, I think, when he talks about learning to ‘pour’ ourselves in a sustainable way, by using the imagery of a tube and a bowl: A tube takes in water and spills it out almost at the same time. A bowl is first filled to the brim, before overflowing. Both potentially pour out the same amount of water: but one is always empty and the other is always full.
Bernard says: ‘Be wise to pour yourself like a bowl and not like a tube.’ We need to allow God to fill us first, before we can pour out to others. We are no use to God and neighbour if we’re constantly running on empty, for we can only give what we have!
So, should you feel exhausted by the thought of contributing to life and ministry, try to look after yourself by allowing God to fill your bowl first, before overflowing in God’s love. For we are to soak in God’s love, peace and light before they cannot be contained any longer and overflow into life around us.
Yours in Christ,
We had a good break this summer, which saw us on a road trip to Austria via France, Germany and Belgium.
One of the highlights of this trip was a visit to Fontenay Abbey in Burgundy. Burgundy had been on my ‘bucket list’ for a while, because it is there that the monastic order of the Cistercians started out right at the end of the 11th century.
The Cistercians were about spiritual renewal and simplicity and their monasteries (often set in remote locations) tended to reflect this in their architecture, artwork, music and liturgy (as the Cistercians reacted to elaborate and rich forms of monasticism widespread at their time).
Fontenay Abbey (founded by Bernard of Clairvaux in 1118) is an amazing example of such early Cistercian architecture.
Although it has long ceased to be a working monastery (the grounds even housed a 19th-century paper mill), many of its buildings have been restored to their 12th-century appearance (making it a UNESCO world heritage site).
There is definitely still an austere Cistercian feel to this place in its simple grandeur.
Looking around this deeply spiritual place was very moving indeed, as I imagined the Cistercian monks at work or in prayer.
But what I primarily took away was a call to a ‘simplified grandeur’: How can we simplify things, without losing a sense of God’s grandeur in worship and in our lives?
We all are called to live more sustainably as we move towards Net Zero Carbon emissions by 2030.
But that should not reduce our zeal for worship, social action and life in God.
How can we express our humanity and the sheer abundance of life in God in ways that are sustainable and yet overflowing?
As we go into the Season of Creation this September, we’ll continue to focus on these questions as we consider our impact on the order of creation, our call to Christian discipleship and our place in the wider community and, indeed, the fabric of life.
I am very much looking forward to our services, reflections and prayers this season here at HT.
A change of pace, a change of step, can sometimes be extraordinarily important for seeing things afresh and for learning a different rhythm of life.
The story of Moses and the Burning Bush (Exodus 3.1ff) is such a moment of change, as Moses steps aside to marvel at a bush that is on fire, yet not consumed by the flames.
What follows from that stepping aside is nothing less than an encounter with the living God (changing Moses’ life and the lives of all Israel).
We, too, are invited to learn to see things differently as we grow in our journey through life, and we often do not even have to step very far away from the ordinary in order to do so – after all, Moses is in his work-place as he encounters the Burning Bush while keeping the flock of his father-in-law!
A good question for us may be this: What would help us to change step so that we could see things afresh? Even in little things, parts of our routines?
I am planning on practising a bit of ‘stepping aside’ this summer, both while on holiday and when in Stirling ministering at HT.
What is important is that we are ready to look at the ordinary with fresh eyes, so that God can show us new things and break through into our lives.
As the Victorian poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-61) wrote in her work Aurora Leigh:
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
Wishing you good courage for ‘stepping aside’ this summer, wherever you may be!
Yours in Christ,
One of the books I’ve read this spring is The Hidden Life of Trees, written by the forester Peter Wohlleben. A riveting read from start to finish, which I can very much recommend to you: the author describes some of the lesser-known factors at work in a forest and paints a fascinating picture of trees and other living elements, working together to form ecosystems (in language even I can understand!).
Key to the message of the book is the insight that trees are social beings, ‘sharing food with their own species and sometimes even go so far as to nourish their competitors’ (The Hidden Life of Trees, p.3).
But why would they do that? Wohlleben writes this:
A tree is not a forest. On its own, a tree cannot establish a consistent local climate. It is at the mercy of wind and weather.
But together, many trees create an ecosystem that moderates extremes of heat and cold, stores a great deal of water, and generates a great deal of humidity. And in this environment, trees can live to be very old.
To get to this point, the community must remain intact no matter what. If every tree were looking out only for itself, then quite a few of them would never reach old age. Regular fatalities would result in many large gaps in the tree canopy, which would make it easier for storms to get inside the forest and uproot more trees. The heat of the summer would reach the forest floor and dry it out. Every tree would suffer.The Hidden Life of Trees, p.4
As we observe the Feast of Pentecost and celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit to the Church, we are reminded that Church is perhaps a bit like a forest: we need to work together, nourish and look out for each other, so that we may come to maturity in faith.
It is no good nourishing only oneself and cutting out any ‘competitors’; we have a common calling to share and to support one another as we form Christ’s body in the world and grow in our understanding of God and as human beings.
Wishing you a happy growing season this Pentecost,
Towards the end of this month, on Thursday 26th May, we’ll observe the Feast of the Ascension, which is celebrated 40 days after Easter.
The Ascension of Christ, as described in the Gospel of Luke and in Acts, is very much seen as the end-point of the immediate post-Resurrection period where Christ appears to his disciples, continues to teach them and even shares in meals with them. The Ascension brings this to a close, as Luke’s Gospel ends like this:
Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them.
While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.
And they worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the templeLuke 24.50-53
The Ascension brings Easter to yet a different level: it is a point instigating spiritual growth and maturity.
The Master has to leave in order for his disciples to grow up! I often think of hatching birds when pondering the Ascension: the moment when the little ones are ready to fly, they receive a nudge from their parents, forcing them to leave the nest and fly. They can’t stay in the nest forever; they need to trust in their own skills and become fully grown birds.
Likewise, we have spiritual need of the Ascension and need to risk leaving…our nests to become Christian disciples pledged to growth. That might sound risky and it might be tempting to hide in structures well-known to us.
But the Ascension teaches us that we are created to fly and grow, as we find a renewed relationship with God and God’s wonderful creation.
Wishing you a good Eastertide and a deep & bold Ascension Day,
Easter is at the absolute heart of the Christian faith and the most central time of the Church Year.
We celebrate Easter every Sunday, as we meet on the first day of the week (the day of the resurrection) in worship and prayer.
However, once a year we make a special effort in our Easter celebrations as we prepare ourselves during the Season of Lent and go through the drama of Holy Week through to Easter Day, recalling Jesus’ last days before his death, his passion and resurrection.
This year (as the restrictions due to the Covid pandemic are eased), we will manage a full round of services: from Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem to the Last Supper and from the cross to the empty tomb (and quite a few services in between!).
The worship of Holy Week is not just a re-telling of the central Christian story: it is designed so that we may enter into the narrative more fully and be touched on deeper levels with the help of all our senses.
Christ is always risen, but we are to find our own step on the Christian Way as we walk God’s purpose for us.
As we sing in our Lent Hymn this year:
From ashes to the living fontAlan J. Hommerding (CCLI Licence # 237731)
your Church must journey still;
through cross and tomb to Easter joy,
in Spirit-fire fulfilled.
I am very much looking forward to walking this year’s holy journey of Holy Week & Easter with you.
Yours in Christ,
Our Lent book this year is Saying Yes to Life by Ruth Valerio (who is an environmentalist, theologian and a director at Tearfund). In the book, Dr Valerio discusses issues related to climate change and the need for climate justice & action as she reflects on the story of creation as found in Genesis chapter 1.
The well-known creation story of Genesis 1 certainly has enormous implications for how we have come to view the world and humanity’s place within it. One verse found in Genesis 1 has perhaps been particularly influential in how we view the world as God says to humanity, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.’ (Gen 1.28)
We can clearly see the consequences of blunt dominion of the world by the impact humanity has on life on this planet and its various forms of ecosystems. It would be helpful to renew our understanding of ‘dominion’ to be more about our human capacity for ‘stewardship’, which seems to be inbuilt into our system (as Genesis seems to suggest). As the OT scholar Walter Brueggemann reminds us, the Biblical image of dominion of living creatures needs to be about the ‘securing of the well-being of every other creature and [about] bringing the promise of each to full fruition.’ Jesus is very clear on this in his teaching (Brueggemann says): ‘The one who rules is the one who serves.’
As we go through Lent this year, we might want to ask: What are we stewards of? Our relationships maybe? Creation around us? Our shopping habits? Our carbon footprint? Our own fruition and outlook on life? Good stewardship will take care to include the well-being of creation (and will not advocate ‘humanity first’, but acknowledge that we are but a part of a wonderful world created as being good).
What will we help to bring to fruition and learn to carefully steward as we take our place within God’s wonderful creation?
Yours in Christ,
At Holy Trinity, our worship is very much coloured by the different seasons of the Church Year.
However, at present, it may feel like being between seasons, as Christmas has firmly come to an end (with Candlemas on the 2nd of February) and Lent & Easter are not yet on the horizon.
But our present spell of Ordinary Time is an important part of the whole cycle which forms the Church Year: we need the different colours and themes, the highpoints and feasts, as well as the stretches of time in between so that our own spiritual lives can organically grow out of our yearly cyclical walk in God-time.
For our lives are cycles of growth as well, as we learn to let go of things no longer life-giving and re-enter perhaps familiar space with deepened insight, in order to find God at work within us anew.
The poet and priest Malcolm Guite puts it like this:
Tangled in time, we go by hints and guesses,
Turning the wheel of each returning year.
But in the midst of failures and successes
We sometimes glimpse the love that casts out fear.
Sometime the heart remembers its own reasons
And beats a Sanctus as we sing our story,
Tracing the threads of grace, sounding the seasons
That lead at last through time to timeless glory.
From the first yearning for a Saviour’s birth
To the full joy of knowing sins forgiven,
We start our journey here on God’s good earth
To catch an echo of the choirs of heaven.
I send these out, returning what was lent,Sounding the Seasons: 70 sonnets for the Christian Year
Turning to praise each ‘moment’s monument’.
Wishing you deep God-moments wherever you may be in your own cycles of life.
Yours in Christ,
Every year in the seasons of Advent and Christmas, we focus on the Birth of Jesus: the promise of a Messiah as foretold by the prophets and the incarnation of the Word of God, born in human flesh.
Luke famously writes this about the incarnation: ‘And she [Mary] gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.’ (Luke 2.7) A very vivid description of being clothed – both in human form and in actual bands of cloth.
The idea that God stoops low to meet us in Jesus’ birth; that God’s Word takes human shape so that we can learn something deep about God by walking alongside Jesus and by following his word and example, is key to the mystery of the incarnation. God is clothed, so that our lives can be profoundly touched.
But there is another aspect to our ‘bands of cloth’ perhaps worth remembering this Advent and Christmas.
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke reminds us of this in his poem God speaks (from the cycle The Book of Hours): here God is described as speaking to everyone at the point of their incarnation, telling them (and us all) to ‘clothe God’ in our being and life. Not only Jesus is to clothe God, but we all are called to give God shape in who we are and what we do.
Maybe we could remember this basic calling to life and embodiment as we go through the seasons of Advent and Christmas (and celebrate Jesus’ birth): that our own ‘bands of cloth’ (as humble as they may be) are key to the mystery of the incarnation as we are all called into the fabric of life by God – and that to wrap others lovingly in ‘bands of cloth’ is to take part in God’s plan and purpose for all of creation.
Yours in Christ,