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euismod dolor nec pretium. Nunc ut tristique massa.
Nam sodales mi vitae dolor ullamcorper et vulputate enim accumsan.
Morbi orci magna, tincidunt vitae molestie nec, molestie at mi. Nulla nulla lorem,
suscipit in posuere in, interdum non magna.
As a confirmed armchair gardener I have two favourite kinds of garden. Those such as lovely National Trust gardens, where someone else does the hard work and I can enjoy the results. And second, those shown on ‘Gardener’s World ‘ on TV with the wonderful passion of the presenters for the plants in their care.
What I also love though, in any garden, is the way that plants have of scuppering our best laid plans. Despite the very best our garden centres can offer there are still weeds that seem to survive relentlessly. Which of us hasn’t marvelled at the state of our hedges and borders, when everything else struggles for survival, but the brambles and nettles still grow at a rate of knots? Even amongst carefully tended house plants, shoots of quite different stalks and leaves can appear seemingly from nowhere overnight.
But the bramble doesn’t realise that it’s a weed nor does the daisy in the middle of the lawn. There is something quite wonderful about their pride in blazing into flower in the most inappropriate place, gloriously unaware that they don’t fit into our plans. No matter how good a gardener we are, weeds, soil and the weather all help remind us we are not entirely in control. We can fertilise our soil, but if it is acid, it is unlikely to become alkali – and the plants that thrive will reflect that. Some years we think we have done all the right things, but still there are plants that don’t flourish as we might hope and ‘weeds’ that flourish all too well. But after all, it’s been said that “a weed is just a plant in the wrong place”.
I sometimes wonder whether our gardens can offer us some important lessons, particularly in these strange times when not being in control of what we otherwise take for granted has been a big feature of life for so many of us. For Jesus, it was the wild flowers and weeds of the field that had so much to teach us. In his parable of the mustard seed the wild black mustard plant was the perfect example of the potential and blessings of the kingdom of God that come when we let something grow as our Creator intended it. What for the farmers of his time was a pernicious weed, was for Jesus a vital source of shade from the burning sun and shelter for birds and animals alike.
For those of us blessed with gardens, allotments or houseplants over the last few months they have been oases of calm, refreshment, colour and activity. But perhaps there is a bigger message growing there for us too; that our Creator delights equally in all that he has made, in each lily of the field, in each mustard seed, and in each one of us. His love encompasses the weeds as well as the flowers wherever they grow, planned or unplanned, because they are all signs of life, growth and the hope of his kingdom. In the words of one of our best loved hymns:
Writing at a time when our churches are closed for public
worship some may find the question a challenge. Indeed our churches are sources
of beauty, peace and inspiration to many and the commonplace term ‘House of God’
adds to expectation.
The word Church is often associated with a building but
perhaps the Greek word used in the New Testament is more helpful in that it
means ‘a gathering’ but this does not mean that we cannot find God when we are
alone and in some cases we are able to use the benefits of technology to
‘gather’ in new ways. The young Jesus would have been familiar with the noise
of the carpenter’s workshop, the bustle of daily village life and no doubt
found opportunities to enjoy His heavenly Father’s presence in those
circumstances but also in the times when He found a quiet place to be alone
without other distractions.
In isolation we need to find God’s presence in new and perhaps surprising places and reflect on Jesus’ promise to His disciples to be with them always.
Isolation also challenges us as to how we value ourselves:
it is often by the work we do and the wealth it produces but in the current
crisis those working in caring for others have found a new or increased and
well deserved value in the eyes of many.
If we are unable to work or contribute our sense of value may be
diminished but it is important to remember that our faithful heavenly Father
values each one of us not by what we do but as by what we are, a precious child
of God, whether we recognise this or not, and the events remembered in Holy
Week and Easter remind us of the costly love God released to show us how much
we mean to Him and, through the resurrection, the new creation we can become,
confident of the value we have in God’s sight irrespective of the circumstances
in which we find ourselves.
In conclusion I offer the following reading, Footprints, which you may find helpful in times of uncertainty;
One
night I dreamed a dream. As I was walking
along the beach with my Lord, across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand, one belonging to me and one to my Lord.
After
the last scene of my life flashed before me, I looked back at the footprints in
the sand and I noticed that at many times along the path of my life, especially
at the very lowest and saddest times, there was only one set of footprints.
This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it. “Lord, you said once I decided to follow you, You’d walk with me all the way. But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life there was only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most why You would leave me.”
He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you. Never, ever. During your trials and testings, when you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”
No – this
isn’t a piece about child labour on cacao plantations and the importance of
fair trade, although bearing it in mind is always a good idea. No – it’s a piece about Easter. When we lived in the North West a
neighbouring family never bought their children Easter eggs until the afternoon
of Easter Day (at the earliest) and more often on Easter Monday because by then
the supermarket had slashed its prices to clear the seasonal stuff off the
shelves. They were proud of this thrifty
move. It pleased them enormously. It made me sad. Because there is definitely a place for
extravagance in our lives and I think Easter is it.
Christmas
brings extravagance out in almost everybody – whether they’re a church-goer or
not – Easter not so much. The story of
Easter is far less user-friendly than the Christmas story. There are no stars, no kings, no angels, no
baby – nothing to coo over, no romance. There’s mockery, cruelty, earthquakes and an
apocalyptic eclipse. Good Friday is the grimmest of stories before the
strangeness and wonder of new life on Easter day. And that contrast between frightening events
and an eventual fresh beginning is a story we very much need to hear now. Things have changed for us almost overnight
from a free and easy lifestyle to lockdown.
Fear is (almost literally) in the air.
Things are tough and might get tougher.
It’s all in the Easter story. In
the blink of an eye, Jesus goes from hero to zero in the eyes of his people. Things
get tough for him and then they get tougher. But that isn’t the end of the
story any more than lockdown is the end for us.
Easter has no cuddle-factor. The bunny is an interloper from a whole different story – as is the egg, but Christians aren’t daft, we know a good symbol when we see one, so we co-opted the egg.
And I have
to say the chocolate egg is a wonderful thing.
There’s something about the taste and feel of a thin sliver of chocolate
eggshell that is quite magnificent. It is not at all like a chunk from a bar. And it is extravagant. My neighbours were right about one thing
though – an Easter egg is a very expensive way to buy chocolate. But at Easter that’s the point. God loves us.
Completely. Extravagantly. And loving us cost him everything. If you manage to buy an Easter egg this year,
when you pay for it remember that Easter is the very opposite of cheap.
This Easter
will be different for all of us. No
family visits. No trips out. But we are a community capable of great
things – of sharing so that everyone has something and no-one has nothing; of
keeping in touch so that no-one feels lost or alone. Let’s care for each other extravagantly. We are of God – looking after each other is
built in to our nature. Have a good (though different) Easter.
This month holds a very
special celebration on the third Sunday of Lent. It is Mother’s Day or Mothering Sunday as it
was more traditionally called.
Mothering Sunday was originally a time when
people returned to their ‘Mother Church’, the one in which they were baptised
or where they attended services when they were younger. This meant that
families were reunited and returned to the towns and villages where they grew
up. In time, it became customary for young people who were working as servants
in large houses, to be given a holiday on Mothering Sunday. They could use this
day to visit their own mother and often took a gift or food. In turn, this
moved towards the modern celebration, which we know today.
Many families get together
around their mother and celebrate with a special meal out and I love to see
generations of the same family all gathered together. The shops are bursting
with beautiful bouquets and bunches of flowers to give as gifts to our mothers
and the array of special cards are in abundance too.
However, for some it can
also be a sad time, remembering the mother they can no longer hug, or perhaps
some wish they had a different or closer relationship with their mother. Others
may not be a mother yet and long for a day when they might have a child.
I love the image of a mother hen in this verse from Luke 13 v 34
‘How often I wanted to gather your children together, just as
a hen gathers her brood under her wings’
That feeling of love, safety, nurture and warmth is so
necessary for young to thrive and a human need in us all.
However we will be
spending Mother’s Day this year we can be sure that God longs to gather us up
and meet all our needs in Him.
Services will be held
around the Mission Community on Mothering Sunday 22nd March to which
you are all warmly invited.
January is a time of year
for promises and resolutions. February is perhaps a month for reckoning –
asking ourselves why we’re already slipping back on those commitments. This
cold, hard month can be a bit of a reality check.
However, when the lights no
longer go on at 4.30pm, we know spring is on its way. We find things to look
forward to – holidays, things to do when the weather improves. These simple
plans show how important it is to look forward to better times, to live in hope
that good things are on their way.
This is what the church year
is doing right now. Christmas is an explosion of light, colour and sound and,
even though decorations get put away early in January, the song of the angels
keeps ringing in our ears – good news for all. The message is simple and clear
– God has come among us, and remains with us.
Hope lives on, long after
the recycling lorry has carted away the Christmas wrapping paper. The stories
of Epiphany are full of signs and wonders – stories such as the time Jesus
turned water into wine at a wedding in Cana, and the moment when Jesus is
himself baptised as an adult by his cousin John. When Jesus bursts out of the
river water the sky above him is filled with God’s blessings, for him and for
us all.
Yes, Lent is coming, a time
of quiet, reflection, sometimes sadness. But even now in these dark days of
winter we can see the light of Easter in every early glimpse of spring flowers
magically appearing in foggy lanes.
Light in darkness – an idea
as old as time, and yet a reminder that we live in a world where goodness
prevails.
That isn’t just an uplifting
message. There is some science behind it. The Gottman Institute has studied
relationships for 50 years, discovering that people are generally happy if they
have five times more positive experiences than negative ones. In passing, this
research suggests that in general people are content with life, because on
balance more good things happen than bad things. We are perhaps more generous,
caring, helpful people than the daily news would suggest.
If that glimpse of hope
isn’t enough to cheer the winter blues, what is?
Caroline, John, Henry and I have been
overwhelmed by the wonderful welcome we have received from the communities of
Colyford, Musbury, Northleigh, Southleigh, Branscombe and Colyton. Thank you
for all your cards, letters, messages and your thoughtful gifts, including some
wonderful hampers and local food—all greatly appreciated.
At the beginning
of January we celebrate the Epiphany when gifts and greetings were taken to the
Holy Family. ‘Epiphany’ is a fancy Greek word which means something like
‘manifestation’ or ‘appearance’. It is a rich celebration which (in the Western
Church) marks the visit of the Three Kings who bring gifts to the manger, which
is one of the early signs that the birth of the baby Jesus is not simply a good
human being, or wise teacher and moral example, but is in fact God made man.
The readings we hear in church around this time look beyond the crib, at all
the miracles and wonders Jesus did during his life and ministry to help us to
think about who exactly Jesus Christ is, and what he might accomplish if we
were to allow ourselves to trust in him a little more and our friendship with
him to grow.
As I travel the
East Devon lanes (avoiding the potholes….sometimes more successfully than
others…) travelling from one church to another, I am aware how fortunate I am
to be a part of the life of the six churches which make up the Holyford group. The
Church is a people, but it is buildings too, and each of our beautiful
buildings is a gift and sign of the Epiphany; each stands as a manifestation to remind us that we
have a God who is Emmanuel—‘God with us’—present at the heart of the community,
come wind or weather.
Arriving at the
beginning of Advent and leading up to Christmas has provided a great
opportunity to get to know quite a few new faces. Thank you to all those who
have said hello. If we haven’t already met, I hope that we shall soon. Until
then…
Advent and Christmas is a time of travelling for many, for
the distribution of gifts and reunion of families and friends and we wish all
safety in their journeys and joyful encounters with those they visit and host.
Advent itself is a time of travelling, even if not in terms
of distance, but in our readings we reflect on the journey of God’s people in
preparation for the coming of the Messiah and it is an opportunity for us to
examine our own journey of faith as we prepare to greet the Christ child once
more.
At Christmas we remember the journey of Mary and Joseph to
Bethlehem, the Shepherds visiting the stable, the visit of the wise men and the
flight of the Holy family into Egypt.
In our Mission Community we begin a journey as we welcome
Steven and his family and look forward to his ministry amongst us.
Through all our ‘travelling’ we wish you all a joyful and
peaceful Christmas Season and may that continue into the New Year that lies
beyond.
Charles, Colin, Emma, Jan, Jeremy, John, Linda, Nigel, Steven and Victoria
We
are very excited about moving to Colyton and getting to know the churches and
parishes that make up the Holyford Mission Community. In preparation for our arrival, I have been
asked to provide a few lines about myself, so…
I was born ‘at a very early age’, in London, and came to the church through music, as a choirboy at St George’s Metropolitan Cathedral, Southwark. It was there that I encountered some inspiring Christians and began to learn about the faith; it is since then that I have always felt the deep and loving presence of Jesus Christ in my life.
We moved to Sussex when I was about 10 years old, and it is there I began to learn to play the organ. My family and I moved again to Devon, about 22 years ago. Music, especially church music, has always been a passion. I read music at Exeter University, going on to postgraduate study there and finally at the University of Bristol. During my time studying I was organ scholar at the University and at Crediton Parish Church and for three years a choral scholar at Exeter Cathedral. Before ordination, I was a teacher and taught music at The Maynard School in Exeter.
I trained for
ordination at St Stephen’s House, Oxford, and served my curacy at Tavistock
with Gulworthy and Brent Tor. During the past year I have also been looking
after the churches at Mary Tavy and Peter Tavy. I am married to Caroline, who
works as an historic landscape specialist for Nicholas Pearson Associates. We
were married just over eight years ago at Crediton (where I was Director of
Music), and have two sons, Henry (aged 3 ½) and John (7 months). You will also
see (and hear!) Beryl pottering about. Beryl is our 1969 brown Morris Minor who
has been with me for the past 20 years.
It would
be good at this point if I could write something gripping or niche about my
hobbies and interests (…that I liked windsurfing in tweeds or that I was founding
captain of the England Bo-taoshi team…) but the truth is that in my spare
time I like to do all the usual things, like listen to music, read (short-ish)
books, wander about in the garden and, most of all, doze off in front of the
television.
I know
that there will be precious little time for dozing off as I endeavour to meet
everyone and discern how I can best serve you and the growth of God’s Church on
our journey together. Thank you for inviting me to become your next Rector; I
hope that we shall meet soon, and pray that God will bless us and all that we
do in his holy name and in the service of his love.
Writing this when many of our Churches are about to celebrate
harvest festivals or have recently done so I am also aware that the topic is
rarely absent from one form of media or another. I am particularly reflecting upon the different
emphases of such information, including economics, environment ethics and
health and, as I listen to the latest ‘wisdom’, it seems increasingly difficult
to hold them in a balance which does not involve conflict between them. 😕
Our food comes from many different sources and even
improvements in package (another issue!) labelling do not give us the whole
story. We may have the country of origin
but not the type of agricultural system which produced it, what its carbon
footprint might be, the degree of exploitation of vulnerable individuals and/or
local environment and animal welfare issues (if appropriate).
We live in a complex world and as we are faced with more
information the complexity seems to increase and it can be tempting to carry on
regardless but it is clear that to do so is unsustainable for our planet and
calls for urgent action should not go unheeded.
Any changes we can make may seem like a drop of water in an
ocean but when there are many drops it does make a difference. We have a responsibility to one another and to
the global human community as well as having respect for the natural
world. We should acknowledge our
dependence on many others and giving thanks for what others have provided for
us is a sign of responsibility and respect; reducing our over-consumption and wastage
of food is a practical way to demonstrate it.
When we obtain our food perhaps we should focus more closely
on what we needrather than what
we wantand indeed on what we might be able to share. Our heavenly Father is a generous God and
gives us many things for our enjoyment and well-being but also recognises our
different needs and situations. All he requires in return is our
acknowledgement of his generosity with thankful hearts and to remember that what
we do for ourselves may well have an impact on others.
Having
been a Reader (a lay minister) in our parishes for a number of years I am about
to take the plunge into ordained ministry – or as a friend of mine puts it ‘getting
collared’! As the year turns from summer
to autumn I will be ordained in Exeter Cathedral on the 14th of September and
then serve as a self-supporting curate in our Mission Community parishes of
Colyton with Colyford, Branscombe, Southleigh, Musbury and Northleigh.
Although
the days may still be warm, there’s no doubt that September marks a turning of
the seasons for many of us, from holidays to the start of the new school year
for some and the return to work for others.
The same is true for our religious festivals, those times in the Church
year that recall special moments in the life of Christ and in the life of the
Church. Some of the most familiar
festivals and seasons seem to come round with startling speed – can it really
only be just over 100 days to Christmas?!
Here
in our Exeter diocese July marks a special time commemorating St Peter and
Christ’s call to him to be “a rock” on which the Church would grow. Whether or not these were the exact words
used it is always an important anniversary in the life of any community when we
remember the foundations we are built upon.
Church, village and family all have roots that remind us of our
beginnings, where we have come from, and where and with whom we hope to grow in
the future.
For
Exeter Cathedral, Petertide, the season of St Peter, has particular significance
as the Cathedral building itself is dedicated to St Peter and each year the
community there uses this as a focus for special celebrations. This significance also carries through into
other seasons in the life of our diocese.
Ordinations in the Church of England usually take place at Petertide,
but here in Exeter we wait until Michaelmas, mid-September, for the service at
the Cathedral that marks the start of our new ministry. I for one am grateful for this later season
and celebration; just as the disciples waited in Jerusalem before starting
their ministry so the period between the end of my study course at Petertide
and my ordination at Michaelmas has given me much needed time to rest, to give
thanks for the care and support that has given me the foundation from which to
take this new step, and to look forward with joy to the journey to come.
We
have scaffolding up outside the house at present and it’s rather odd to see
knee-down views of workmen passing the bedroom window. It’s not attractive – the scaffolding, I
mean – I wouldn’t dare criticise the
chaps’ legs! But scaffolding isn’t
pretty to look at, unless it’s been specifically designed to be visible like
the jolly coloured structures on the Pompidou Centre in Paris.
Anyway,
all this has got me thinking about hidden support (there should be an
underwiring joke here, but I can’t think of one, so insert your own). So many things in our lives depend on hidden
support. The friends who drop by to see
you when you feel low, the casseroles and cakes that arrive when life’s got out
of hand aren’t listed as emergency services but they rescue us just the same.
We’re
lucky to live in a place where people care about their neighbours and where
there are such strong networks of friendship holding our communities
together. The everyday friendliness of
our neighbourhoods is a great gift and harnessing it in organisations such as LINK
is a brilliant idea. And here’s another
one that I saw online – a photo of a
bench bearing the sign ‘happy to chat’. The idea being that if you sat on that bench
you were inviting conversation as an antidote to loneliness – either your own
or whoever might pass by. Of course
some people would find that a nightmare – they’re desperate for a bit of quiet,
and five minute’s peace on a bench where
no-one mithers them is their idea of paradise.
Support comes in all shapes and sizes.
Sometimes just letting someone enjoy their alone-time is the best
support you can give. Which is not the
same as blanking them – a smile and a nod go a long way to making everyone’s
day better. A smile and a nod is like
wearing your built-in support system on the outside.* It’s part of the glue that holds us all
together.
Jan
Lees
(*insert own joke about
being a superhero/wearing your pants on top of your trousers etc etc….)
Whilst the weather at the time of writing in early June does
not live up to the title of flaming June I remember the orange skies over NW
England last year when Lancashire moorland was very much ablaze. It also reminds of our ambivalent
relationship with fire as it can be both creative and destructive.
Early human groups first learned how to use and then control
and create fire and it had a fundamental impact on how human societies
developed, to migrate to more northern (and southern) latitudes, to improve
diet and later to produce metal implements from copper, tin and iron. Much
later it enabled the development of steam power and the internal combustion
engine which as well as being the basis of much technological improvement was
also a factor in the climate issues we face today.
The destructive power of fire is evident in the destruction
of natural habitats and human habitation both by accident and intention,
sometimes the intention is to provide replacement vegetation and indeed some
Eucalyptus shed their bark to act as kindling so when forest fires occur
naturally their competitors are destroyed and the heat from the fire is
necessary for their seeds to sprout!
Despite our own fascination with fire we also need to use it
responsibly not only for our own benefit but to consider the impact that our
own choices have on those who are more vulnerable and the legacy we leave for
future generations.
The word fire occurs over 600 times in the Bible and not
surprisingly in both a positive and negative context. Amongst these are ideas of refining and
purifying and also denoting God’s presence – as with Moses and the burning bush
and at Pentecost, celebrated in early June, when the apostles received flames
of fire above their heads.
Perhaps the next time there is the opportunity to
contemplate a burning flame, it might also be the time to consider the flame of
love burning in God’s heart for each one of us and the flame of God’s presence
in our own lives both to overcome the faults of the past but also to bring us
reassurance and hope for the future.
Trinity is the green season now for church hangings,
which seems very appropriate when we see the abundant leaves and grass growing
all around us. As I write, the lanes are still full of bluebells and cow
parsley, which will give way to pink campion and honeysuckle and other summer
flowers. We are fortunate to live in such a beautiful area where people want to
come on holiday.
But the joy of summer returning and the apparent
tranquillity of the English countryside can possibly lull us into paying less
attention to the serious environmental challenges facing us with increasing
urgency, not only in the near future, but actually now.
Several high profile events in the media came together
over Easter to draw attention to the seriousness of the situation of global
climate change. One was the broadcasting by the BBC of David Attenborough’s
hard hitting documentary spelling out climate change facts. No-one who saw it
could remain unmoved by the sight of thousands of bats which had dropped dead
to the ground from sheer heat exhaustion due to extreme temperatures in
Australia.
It’s a step forward that the BBC have accepted that
climate change is a scientific fact, and not a political position that needs to
be balanced by giving airtime to fossil fuel industry deniers. Not only the BBC
but the Governor of the Bank of England is warning of this growing crisis.
Of course climate change also means more storms and
flooding, melting glaciers and rising sea levels, which are already having a catastrophic
effect in some areas. This is the effect of greenhouse gases raising global
temperatures by 1oC already, and we need to avert much greater
rises.
We have also seen unprecedented mass nonviolent action
from the group Extinction Rebellion who mobilised many thousands of protesters
demanding change and action from our politicians. Over a thousand were
arrested, and whatever we think of mass civil disobedience as a tactic, it
succeeded in raising the profile.
At the same time we saw the school children’s climate
strikes around the world started by the Swedish teenager Greta Thunberg, who
gave a hard-hitting speech to our parliament. According to the Environment
Secretary she is the “voice of our conscience”. She used a striking image to
describe how we must respond now – “Avoiding climate breakdown will require
cathedral thinking. We must lay the foundation while not knowing exactly how to
build the ceiling.”
We can each start doing something to reduce our carbon
footprint – waste less food, buy from local producers, insulate our homes, walk
or use public transport. Let’s wake up to the need, and remember that the earth
is the Lord’s. We are merely caretakers, handing on to generations to come.
I’m writing
this having just returned from a flying visit to Cyprus. I was there for a
forum, convened by the Anglican Church, which focussed on refugees and people
who are trafficked. The day was an
introduction to my ministry there from September, which will include
responsibility for co-ordinating the Diocese’s response to refugees on the
island.
At the forum,
there were representatives from various secular and religious organisations,
both from the north and the south of the divided island. As each stood to speak, I was struck by their
shared energy, passion and commitment. And this was in the light of a refugee
situation that must have felt overwhelming. For in 2018,
Cyprus exceeded every other EU member state in asylum claims, mainly from
people fleeing Syria.
Stories were
told from different perspectives, and many were very moving. They spoke of large numbers of people
dislocated and traumatised; of the daily challenges faced by strangers in a
strange land.
As the day went
on, it seemed to me that the work of every group, whether secular or religious,
was underpinned by pretty much the same three messages: ‘We stand with
you.’ You have worth.’ ‘Things can be
different’.
Messages of
solidarity and of hope and dignity; messages we would all want to hear in times
of very real need, wherever, and whoever, we are.
And these three
messages resonate absolutely with the Christian faith. Throughout his life on
earth Jesus bestowed time and attentiveness on those whom his society deemed
insignificant – women, foreigners, the poor, the maimed, and those who were
unwell, either mentally or physically.
His very presence signified to each of them: ‘I am with you’; ‘you have worth’; ‘things can be different’. Through an encounter with him, their lives
were transformed. And those who later
met the risen Christ – the disciples, the soldiers, the two Marys – experienced
profound change too. Their confusion,
shame and fear dissipated. And Jesus
bestowed on them, through his attentive love, a sense of worth and hope and
dignity.
Our world today
is every bit as wounded and wounding as it was in Jesus’ time. And it’s every bit as wonderful, too. For within each of us lies the potential to
bring new life and possibility to another. Every act of compassion, every good deed,
every fair and honest act of business, every kind word, really matters. Each act says to another person: ‘you are
cherished’, ‘you have worth’; ‘things can
change’. Each of us, wherever and
whoever we are, can make a much greater difference to someone else than we
might ever have imagined.
Over the past few years, I have been so touched by the
care and warmth in this community. It’s been a privilege being here. Thank you. I look forward to
my work in Cyprus hugely and I take with me precious memories.
Easter Sunday is, as normal,
a day packed with services but for many the most memorable will be the dawn
service held at 6am at the Hillhead picnic site in Colyton. It’s well before
most people are out of their beds, so there will be little traffic and a chance
to enjoy birdsong and a stunning view across the Axe Valley. There really is no
better time of day to celebrate Easter, which all began with a surprise very
early one morning. A group of people had seen their visionary friend arrested, and
then seen him executed in the cruel method reserved for those most hated by the
Roman Empire. Their friend Jesus had been buried, and they thought their story
was over.
Early the next day something
new and strange happened to a young woman, Mary, a friend of Jesus. Someone appeared
to her, and whether it was mist or the uncertainties of dawn light, she thought
the man talking to her was a gardener. Something powerful had happened,
something so strange that witnesses fled in fear, and people passed on the story
in hushed voices. Death hadn’t closed down the story at all – just the opposite.
What seemed like an ending, the
ending of everything important, was in fact the beginning of something new and
life-giving.
We know the story well. A
story of something that happened in the uncertain early light of a spring day,
and an event we constantly associate with spring, green shoots, new growth. Spring
is always a wonderful pick-me-up after a hard winter. This season has something
extra on offer – things bursting into flower, sunlight, and the promise of warm
days ahead.
Dawn has always been seen as an important moment in all religions. In Islam and Christianity it’s the moment when the first prayers of the day are said.
Dawn is of course not a moment,
but a transition from pitch black to full sunlight. Photographers talk of the ‘golden
hour’ before the sun breaks through, when the light is much warmer and softer
than the harsh light of noon. It’s a time when we come round slowly, allowing
all our senses to kick in and enjoy the early hours, wondering what the day
might bring.
A lovely old English word
for the dawn is ‘dayspring’, in regular use at the time the King James translation
of the Bible was composed. It sometimes meant the exact point on the horizon where
the sun was predicted to rise, a point that changes as the year turns. The word
Dayspring is used to describe John the Baptist as the one who brings light to
those who live in darkness, and was later and much more frequently used to
describe Christ himself, not just the light bringer, but the light of the world.
So much for history and
theology, so much for thinking. Perhaps it’s equally good to enjoy the golden dawn
light as the created world sings itself awake and fills us with new hope.
