iGod

A poem for Ash Wednesday - TS Elliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to satiety
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

III

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitful face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jagged, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an aged shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only.

IV

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Who walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile

V

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people. 

 

VI

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

 

ASD

Thoughts on Lent and its significance for us today

I have reproduced an article I wrote recently for a local magazine called Community News:

As the copious amounts of chocolate eggs in shops and supermarkets remind us, Easter is fast approaching. It is the time of year where one third of the population of the world will celebrate the death and resurrection of the founder of Christianity - Jesus Christ.

But did you know that the 40 days leading up to this event is called Lent? The word comes from the Anglo-Saxon word Lencten, which simply means lengthen. It is the period that leads up to Easter, which reminds us that the days are lengthening and nature is preparing for Spring.

Lent is also when we traditionally give up something. (Not an occasion that Hallmark cards has been able to easily exploit!)  This reflects the period of time that Jesus spent in the wilderness without food and water to pray before his impending public Roman and secular death in Jerusalem. Today many Christians observe Lent, as acknowledgement that they are dependent on God for everything.

In January I had the privilege of hearing a very brave Palestinian man, who has the flattering, if not slightly OTT moniker of ‘Ghandi of Palestine’. He is the inspirational leader of a growing non-violent political movement which aims to bring about reconciliation between Palestinians and Israelis.

Every Friday he will protest in front of bulldozers linked arm-in-arm with Muslims, Jews and Christians to stop Israeli government workers from extending into the West Bank, causing yet more Palestinian displacement. He is an irritation for sure. I am sure they are thinking, “If only he would pick up a gun so the army had the excuse to shoot him as a terrorist!”

To give this remarkable man a further context, he was once from a nice Middle class family living in a so-called safe suburban area of Jerusalem, which saw his innocent grandfather gunned down by a sniper as he tried to put up a white flag to protect the family. Life has never been normal since. This inspirational figure has, and had, his fair share of suffering, yet amazing he has immense peace.

I need to say that this brave Palestinian leader is also a Christian. He was asked by someone when he converted from Islam. He looked at him and said he hadn’t. He was quizzed further: “Then how long have your family been Christians?”

He casually replied, “2,000 years.” We don’t often hear in the British media of Palestinians being anything more than part of the fundamentalist Muslim problem. Neither do we hear much about one of the oldest Christian churches in the world living in the midst of this war-torn, battle-scarred area.

As a church pastor I have heard the common accusation from some friends that Christianity is a faith whose experience is built on suffering and misery. Although they mean it in a derisory sense, they are, of course, absolutely right. In fact, I would go so far to say that the Bible has been written with tears.

However, to say that Christianity has ‘traded’ on a premise of suffering is a little too simplistic, if not incredibly offensive.  You see I am afraid I see a lot of lives suffering regardless of the Church institution. Suffering is a way of life. People know how to hurt people.  They need the minimalist of excuses.

Sadly, I have also known people who have been hurt by a particular church in the past. I am truly sorry. But you know what, I can sympathise with you, because I too have been hurt by people with whom I had expected more.

 However, I have had to learn to forgive and remember that people are just like me – imperfect!  To move on we all have to learn to give people a second chance, even though we may feel it is undeserved - which really sums up the message of Easter.

This great festival is about God giving the human race an undeserved second chance through the sacrifice of his only son Jesus.  In himself, he brings hope for a new life, but it does first need us to surrender our own flawed - and hurt - lives to him.

Lent, followed by Easter, is a helpful annual reminder that we do not live in a sanitised Disneyesque world where suffering is denied. Being a Christian acknowledges suffering, but it dwells on the celebration of life.

ASD

Reading matter and ideas for Lent

Well, this week has been one of those weeks. I have had a ton of work to do in London in my day job, as well as a lot of church stuff to do too. In the midst of all this we have started the period the Church calls Lent.

Now I did not realise until I started reading Maggie Dawn's excellent book Giving it Up, that the word derives from the Anglo-Saxon tongue and means, in effect, lengthen. So called because the days are starting to lengthen after Solstice, as well as reminds us that Spring is finally on its way. Hooo-ray!  Anyway, I whole-heartedly recommend Maggie's new book to help take you through the next 40 days.

For some further reading for us at Stour Valley Vineyard Church, but for those, too, further afield in the cybersphere, you might like to know we will have Jack Bull's new Lent booklet, just written for Trent Vineyard, available on the Welcome Desk next service. This is particularly practical and user-friendly for small groups.

Lastly, just gotta give a  shout out to the Church of England's microsite, Love Life, Love Lent.  Worth visiting for its variety of resources to suit different groups. And very colourful it is too!

ASD

Beginning Lent with More from Simon Ponsonby, less Green & Black chocolate

So the season of Lent is upon us. I am not sure if you have decided to give up anything for the next forty days, but for myself I thought I’d have a bash at chocolate. This might sound a bit trite and clichéd, but it is actually a quite big thing for me.

I am looking to clear some space in daily routine of life to make room for the sacred to be heard. Self-denial, even in a small way, helps me to carve out a little time to think of the huge sacrifice made.

Last week, while at the Vineyard National Leaders’ conference, I had the privilege, along with a few hundred other leaders, to hear Anglican vicar Simon Ponsonby open up a few verses in Jude. Stimulating stuff.  As a consequence I bought his book More.

I have decided to make it one of my books for Lent. I like his inclusion of Richard Rolle an Oxford academic and mystic:

“Rolle believed there were three levels of loving Christ – a mere love which obeys his commands, a love whose heart is constantly fixed on Jesus, and a love which sets you on fire and all who touch you feel the heat of it. This love says, Rolle, is indescribable.

Then your soul is loving Jesus, thinking Jesus, desiring Jesus, breathing only in its desire for him, singing to him, catching fire for him, resting in him. Then your thought turns into song and into harmony. Then you feel compelled to sing the psalms which previously you recited...Then death will seem sweeter than honey, because then you are most certain to see him whom you love... then you can say I am sleeping, but my heart is awake. “

Meanwhile if you want to read nice little reflective piece about Lent you could worse than check out my old chum Brian Draper.

ASD

Easter Journey

As we prepare for the biggest event in the Christian calendar to come to its climax in Easter Sunday, I came across this link, thanks to Jonny Baker, of 8 pictures by Luton young people, taking themes from the Easter story and applying it to their own lives and experiences. Really quite inspirational.  Worth checking out.

Have a wonderful and peaceful Easter whatever you are doing.

ASD

Starting Lent with a laugh

Came across this interesting article on the BBC's news website about a new Christian comedy club called the Laughing Sole in Birmingham which is being opened to coincide with the first day of Lent.

I have to say it is in danger of being laughed out of court, as most comedy clubs I have encountered excel with being on the edge or outside of what is socially acceptable. This is an incredibly brave move for our beloved Church of England.

"The club's founder, Helen Tomblin, hopes to keep the material clean and says that cutting out the swearing and crude material can enhance the standard of the humour.

The club is part of a wider effort by the Church of England to make Lent, which began on Wednesday, a bit more fun. The Love Life, Live Lent campaign invites people to share clean jokes about what is traditionally a period of abstinence and solemn reflection in the run-up to Easter."

Go to the article and read the comments left by people.  Quite interesting in itself.

Maybe the church will have the last laugh.

ASD