Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Next to the land rover is...
...the guide who took us round Porto Santo. We had the half day "off road" tour seeing the sites of this small island just north of Madeira.
The guide's name was Carina Jesus.
She was knowledgeable, intelligent, fun...
I found myself comparing her to the narrow, judgemental "Jesus" of some churches.
I'm sure the Jesus of the gospels was more like Carina, even if he did n't drive a landrover!
Monday, 2 February 2009
Power Cut?
"Has there been a power cut?" that was the question asked by practically every worshipper as they arrived for worship on Sunday.
There hadn't been a power cut. It was Candlemas when, according to the Churchwarden's diary, the candles that would be used in the coming year should be blessed.
So we started the service in the morning gloom. We thought about light that brings hope and the possibility of seeing a way through life. We heard the account of the child Jesus, recognised by Simeon as the light of the world.
We blessed the Easter candle, used in baptism services and prayed that we might be faithful to our baptismal call to be lights in the world.
We blessed the communion table candles. Candles were first used in Christian worship when the church went underground (literally) to the catacombs and we remembered Christians persecuted for their faith today. In some traditions one of the communion table candles is called the "epistle" candle, the other the "gospel". I never can remember which is which, but they remind us that scripture is a light for us.
We light a candle from the Diocesan Assembly and were reminded that we are part of something bigger than the small group gathered that morning.
And we heard some words from a book by Lesslie Newbigin. They're so good that I think they're worth repeating here.
"I think that a very good and valid symbol of our mission is to be found in an experience with which those of us who have lived in India are familiar. When we have to go to a distant village in our pastoral duty we try to start very early in the morning, so we do not have to walk in the heat of the day. And it sometimes happens that we have to set off in total darkness; perhaps we are going towards the west so that there is no light in the sky and everything is dark. But as we go, a party of people travelling the opposite way comes to meet us. There will be at least a faint light on their faces. If we stop and ask them: "Where does the light come from?", they will simply ask us to turn round (do the U-turn - repent) and look towards the east. A new day is dawning, and the light we saw was just its faint reflection in the faces of those going that way. They did not posses the light; it was a light given to them. The church is that company which, going the opposite way to the majority, facing not from life towards death, but from death towards life, is given already the first glow of the light of a new day. It is that light that is the witness" (Mission in Christ's Way World Council of Churches p21)
There hadn't been a power cut. It was Candlemas when, according to the Churchwarden's diary, the candles that would be used in the coming year should be blessed.
So we started the service in the morning gloom. We thought about light that brings hope and the possibility of seeing a way through life. We heard the account of the child Jesus, recognised by Simeon as the light of the world.
We blessed the Easter candle, used in baptism services and prayed that we might be faithful to our baptismal call to be lights in the world.
We blessed the communion table candles. Candles were first used in Christian worship when the church went underground (literally) to the catacombs and we remembered Christians persecuted for their faith today. In some traditions one of the communion table candles is called the "epistle" candle, the other the "gospel". I never can remember which is which, but they remind us that scripture is a light for us.
We light a candle from the Diocesan Assembly and were reminded that we are part of something bigger than the small group gathered that morning.
And we heard some words from a book by Lesslie Newbigin. They're so good that I think they're worth repeating here.
"I think that a very good and valid symbol of our mission is to be found in an experience with which those of us who have lived in India are familiar. When we have to go to a distant village in our pastoral duty we try to start very early in the morning, so we do not have to walk in the heat of the day. And it sometimes happens that we have to set off in total darkness; perhaps we are going towards the west so that there is no light in the sky and everything is dark. But as we go, a party of people travelling the opposite way comes to meet us. There will be at least a faint light on their faces. If we stop and ask them: "Where does the light come from?", they will simply ask us to turn round (do the U-turn - repent) and look towards the east. A new day is dawning, and the light we saw was just its faint reflection in the faces of those going that way. They did not posses the light; it was a light given to them. The church is that company which, going the opposite way to the majority, facing not from life towards death, but from death towards life, is given already the first glow of the light of a new day. It is that light that is the witness" (Mission in Christ's Way World Council of Churches p21)
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