Iona - film review

I love Iona. I have spent many happy weeks there, enjoying the ambience of the ancient abbey, the beautiful sandy beaches and the amazing turquoise sea. It is a special place. I was excited to see the new Scottish film that was named after the island, had a woman called Iona as the central character and was filmed on location on the island.
What a great disappointment. The landscapes were as stunning as ever and I recognised the rocks and bays however....
The plot was poor, the acting wooden in parts and the arty photography dwelt overbearingly long over each scene. The story supposedly portrayed Christian people on the Christian island but it was a superficial parody of faith. And as for reality - I've never seen a poly tunnel strawberry farm on Iona and why didn't they call the air ambulance when one of the main characters collapsed! I can't imaging a situation where folks just stand around the moaning body and wait passively for death!
There was hardly any dialogue - long silent meals with the sound of scraping of forks and why did they eat so many eggs!  Ninety minutes of melancholic, taciturn brooding. Perhaps I should have noticed the strapline of 'Home is where the hurt is' and taken note.  This is a film I definitely don't want to see again.

Easter day meditation

On this day we proclaim that all is not lost
On this day we defy the powers of death
Those who suppress truth
Those who seek to quench hope
Those who assert their power over others
Those trample on the faces of the poor
Those who kill and maim and destroy:
They shall not win
They shall not win just as those did not win
Who sought to silence the voice of the man from Nazareth
Who sought to extinguish his message of the new Kingdom
The Kingdom where people would live by different rules
They sought to silence him
But wood could not hold him
Metal could not hold him
Stone could not hold him
And they did not win
The Roman Empire is vanished
And nobody cares three straws about Caesar Augustus
But 2000 years later
The voice of the man from Nazareth is still heard
Speaking of love and hope and a different Kingdom
Transforming lives
We will not worship a grave or let destruction triumph
But we will pick up whatever cross we bear
And walk bravely into the future
Where he meets us
He meets us and he challenges us
To roll away the stone wherever hope lies buried
To caress every hand and every heart pierced by sorrow
To let love flow like a never-ending stream
So that blades of grass will burst from the asphalt
And flowers grow in the deserts of despair
For the gentle water breaks the stone,
Yeah, the gentle water breaks the stone

By my friend Annette

In Denmark the daffodil is a symbol of Easter and it is called the passion flower. (påskelilje)

 Image courtesy of James Barker at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Easter Saturday

Today (Easter or holy Saturday)  is the lull between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. However in ancient and medieval Christianity it was an important occasion for the "Harrowing of Hell" was marked. This is the bit of the Easter story when the bible just says Jesus descended into Hell. It is the bit that says he was really dead and not just asleep to wake up on Sunday morning.

Harrowing was an agricultural term for turning over the ground - a bit like ploughing (plowing). It conjurers up a lovely image of Jesus going into the place of the dead and turning everything upside down. There is some fantastic medieval art that depicts Jesus sorting all the demons out. 

This is based on  Christus Victor theory of the atonement which states that Jesus’ death was not a legal settlement with God (as the contemporary evangelicals would have us believe) but rather a battle against the forces of darkness. Descending from the cross into the realm of death, Christ stepped into the arena where humanity confronts death and the works of the devil. Like a brave knight, he fought with these enemies and was victorious which forced them to release humanity from their grip. This theory of the atonement is supported by the bible. 

Colossians 2:15 (RSV) "He disarmed the principalities and powers and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in him."   1 John 3:8 (RSV) " The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil."

So do not treat today as a lull in the action - today is the day of the great cosmic battle!

Image courtesy of arztsamui at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Good Friday

At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice: “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” 
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. 
And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. 
When the Roman centurion, who stood facing him, saw the way Jesus breathed his last, he said: “Truly this man was the Son of God.” 
Mark 15.
Death is always sad. Loosing a friend. Potential not achieved. Regretting things never said or done. How much more sad if death is by cruel painful and lengthy execution.
It does not bear thinking about.
Today is a day for weeping with those who weep. In today's world there are too many who are suffering and carrying unbearable burdens.
Make time today to reflect on the suffering of the world and how God suffers with us in the pain.


Photo - my picture of an old metal crucifix.

Maundy Thursday

Today is an important day in the Christian calendar. Jesus washed the disciples feet and then at a passover seder instituted the meal that has symbolically become the sacrament of holy communion. These actions which in themselves are ordinary have become central to our faith.
Foot washing is not something we do. It is not something fun or pleasurable to contemplate. I once had a foot massage and it was very relaxing but the person who did it washed my feet with a cloth first and then used aromatic oils in the massage to cover any adverse aromas. Washing dirty smelly feet must be one of the least appealing jobs there is and perhaps that is why podiatry and chiropody are not popular career choices. Yet it is an intimate relationship and is very satisfying to be on the receiving end.
Bread and wine have a universality about them that transcend cultures. The symbolic meal has been shaped and developed in many ways as the mass, communion or lords supper has developed in various traditions across the world from the simple meal. At some point in history, the real meal was left behind and the symbolic sharing of bread and wine took precedence. 
Today is a day to remember. The biblical Greek word is anamnesis. It means more than just remember, reminiscence or recollection.  It is wider and means relive through remembering. And this is what we do on this night and indeed at every time we share holy communion. We re-envision the presence of the Lord with us in his presence as we re-enact what he did in the upper room. 
This is a special day. I pray you may find renewal and refreshment as you relive with the disciples those intimate events that brought them close together and brings us each close to God.


Image courtesy of vectorolie at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Thinking of today's bombing in Brussels

No man is an island,

Entire of itself,

Every man is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thy friend's

Or of thine own were:

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind,

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee.

(John Donne, 1624)

Image courtesy of taesmileland at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Holy week at last

This is a special week when we can follow through the events of the last week of the earthly life of Jesus, otherwise known as his passion. And this year I have a programme of services to attend every day so I will hear a sermon or meditation every day. It is the most full on programme I have experienced for Holy week for many years and I am interested to see how it helps me devotionally to follow Jesus as he travels the path to Golgotha.
Watch this space...

In the woods this afternoon

Edwina Gateley Poem - Let Your God Love You

Let Your God Love You

Be silent.

Be still.

Alone.

Empty

Before your God.

Say nothing.

Ask nothing.

Be silent.

Be still.

Let your God look upon you.

That is all.

God knows.

God understands.

God loves you

With an enormous love,

And only wants

To look upon you

With that love.

Quiet.

Still.

Be.

Let your God—

Love you.

Edwina Gateley

Photo from edwinagatley.com  

A Prayer for the Past by George MacDonald

A Prayer for the Past 

ALL sights and sounds of day and year, 
All groups and forms, each leaf and gem, 
Are thine, O God, nor will I fear 
To talk to Thee of them. 

Too great Thy heart is to despise,
Whose day girds centuries about; 
From things which we name small, Thine eyes 
See great things looking out. 

Therefore the prayerful song I sing 
May come to Thee in ordered words:
Though lowly born, it needs not cling 
In terror to its chords. 

I think that nothing made is lost; 
That not a moon has ever shone, 
That not a cloud my eyes hath crossed
But to my soul is gone. 

That all the lost years garnered lie 
In this Thy casket, my dim soul; 
And Thou wilt, once, the key apply, 
And show the shining whole. 

But were they dead in me, they live 
In Thee, Whose Parable is—Time, 
And Worlds, and Forms—all things that give 
Me thoughts, and this my rime. 

Father, in joy our knees we bow: 
This earth is not a place of tombs: 
We are but in the nursery now; 
They in the upper rooms. 

For are we not at home in Thee, 
And all this world a visioned show; 
That, knowing what Abroad is, we 
What Home is too may know?


George MacDonald   (1824–1905)

Image courtesy of holohololand at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Love is Stronger than death

Paul Tillich in a sermon "Love is Stronger than death" says:

       "Love is stronger.  It creates something out of the destruction caused by death.  It bears everything and overcomes everything.  It is at work where the power of death is strongest, in war and persecution and homelessness and hunger and physical death itself. It is omnipresent and here and there, in the smallest and most hidden ways as in the greatest and most visible ones.  It rescues life from death.  It rescues each of us, for love is stronger than death." 
Quote from Paul Tillich, The New Being Scribner, 1955, p.174

Photo - I took this picture of an old crucifix.

The Donkey, by GK Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked,
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood,
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry,
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
Of all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient, crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hours and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.



A very appropriate poem as Palm Sunday approaches.

Image courtesy of Juan Gnecco at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Questioning God...

Q & A by Janis Ansell 

Why me, God? 

Why not you— 

Who else? 

What’s next then? 

One step and then

— one more and then . . . 

Alone? 

I AM with 

you all ways 

Where? 

Toward the Light, 

Follow me . . . 

How can I? 

With Love, 

simply with Love 

When? 

Now, in this moment 

and in the next . . . 

Why me, God—why do you love me so much? 

Why not you? 

Who else?

Quoted from the Quaker magazine "What Canst Thou Say?" August 2010

Image courtesy of jscreationzs at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Twenty years ago today in Scotland - Poem - Facts by Catherine Wilson

20 years ago today a gunman walked into a primary school in the small Scottish town of Dunblane near Stirling, and shot dead 16 pupils and their teacher in a Primary 1 gym class. Below is a poem by Catherine Wilson. She is a poet and was only 1 year old when her sister was taken from her family.Please listen to Catherine's poem and join us in remembering everyone affected by that day in Dunblane.

BBC Radio Scotland - Facts

20 years ago today a gunman walked into a primary school in the small Scottish town of Dunblane near Stirling, and shot dead 16 pupils and their teacher in a Primary 1 gym class. Below is a poem by Catherine Wilson. She is a poet and was only 1 year old when her sister was taken from her family.Please listen to Catherine's poem and join us in remembering everyone affected by that day in Dunblane.

Posted by BBC Radio Scotland on Sunday, 13 March 2016

The Sea Detective by Mark Douglas-Home - a book review

A first novel by journalist and newspaper editor Mark Douglas-Home is a real page turner.  He successfully brings together a geeky Scottish oceanographer and the trade in Asian children as sex slaves in a plausible murder mystery with the linkage based on the currents in the ocean.  Cal McGill is an Oceanographer and geek. He is also a detective and eco-warrior. 

Cal is a likeable and believable loner, with a broken marriage in his past and a unique expertise as oceanographer in predicting where ocean currents will take objects or people lost at sea. His family roots on a Hebridean island are shrouded in a mystery that he is determined to solve. 

The police were represented by a female junior good cop and a senior, sexist, bad cop, only concerned about his promotion. 

It is very good to discover a new crime writer who has developed a unique angle for a Scottish mystery. I look forward to future books in what I am sure will be a series. 

Colm Toibin's `The South'

Colm Toibin's `The South' is a powerful and moving novel about the difficulties facing people who decide to change their lives and then have to live with the consequences. 

It begins in 1950 in Ireland. Katherine Proctor is married to Tom and she feels stifled and unfulfilled. Tom farms the land she inherited from her father and they have a ten year old son. After a dispute with a neighbour which she believes Tom mishandles, she threatens to leave him. Tom ignores her and she leaves, taking only some money and her passport and escapes to her mother who lives in London. Katherine then makes the decision to go to Spain to begin a new life.

Katherine travels to Barcelona, determined to become a painter. Katherine sees the world through the colour palate of an artist, describing events in terms of colours and suppressing her emotions. Indeed it is only when painting that she seems to experience real connection with what is going on around her in the world.  In Barcelona she meets Miguel, an artist and a veteran of the Spanish Civil War. She starts a new life with him and tries to forget her past. However, when she meets Michael Graves, a fellow Irish exile she is forced to re-examine her life and beliefs. Miguel's past life catches up with him resulting in tragedy.  Michael helps Katherine to come to terms with events and to look to the future. The narrative ends in Ireland in the 1970s. 

The book examines the parallels between Spanish and Irish history in the twentieth century. It struck me that we think of Spain as a modern European democracy but this novel reminded me forcefully that in the very recent past it was a fascist dictatorship where ordinary people became nervous when they saw a policeman. 

This was Toibin's first novel written whilst he was working as a journalist in 1990. I enjoyed the read and it is recommended.

Twenty years after the Dunblane massacre

Twenty years ago on the 13 March 1996 a sleepy little town in central Scotland became the focus of the world's news media after a shooting left a class of 5 year old children decimated. Sixteen children and their teacher were murdered by a lone gunman. This is the worse shooting ever in UK history and resulted in a change in the law so that it is now illegal to own a handgun. 
In other parts of the world such atrocities continue but I am thankful to live in a country where there are no guns! 
No words can convey the agony for the parents and survivors and all affected by that day.
This is a time to pause, reflect and say a prayer. 

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning,  We will remember them.

Extract of Laurence Binyon's poem "For the Fallen" written in the first world war.

Image courtesy of Serge Bertasius Photography at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

An Iona Affirmation of Faith

We believe that God is present

in the darkness before dawn;

in the waiting and uncertainty

where fear and courage join hands,

conflict and caring link arms,

and the sun rises over barbed wire.

We believe in a with-us God

Who sits down in our midst

to share our humanity.

We affirm a faith

That takes us beyond the safe place

into action, into vulnerability.

and into the streets.

We commit ourselves to work for change

and put us on the line;

to bear responsibility, to take risks,

live powerfully and face humiliation;

to stand with those on the edge;

to chose life

and be used by the Spirit

for God’s new community of hope.

Amen

This prayer is from the Iona Community. 

Image “Sunrise On Colorful Twilight Sky In The Morning” courtesy of Keerati at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

when....

Lent... the need to keep going

I started lent full of enthusiasm and commitment. This year I would keep going. This year I set myself some tasks that were good things to do. They were tasks that needed doing and they are tasks which I thought I could achieve.

Well we are now half way through lent and I am struggling. 

I promised to unclutter and I did some pretty good stuff in the first week but I seem to have come to a dead stop. My room is looking as cluttered as ever. Perhaps it is because I want to find a good home for everything that I am discarding rather than just tip it in the trash bin. Whatever the reason I have come to a stop.

And the other promise is that I would write a spiritually uplifting thought on my blog each day of Lent. I am thankful that Sundays do not count as being in lent as I have appreciated having one day off a week. But the writing of the blog has become a bit of a trial, and I don't seem to have inspiration.

So I stop and pray and reflect that life always is like this. We get to bits where the going gets tough and we are not as energetic and enthused as when we started and we are tempted to give up. But the big difference between people who succeed and those who don't is that some people give up when it gets hard where as the winners might not be the best but they are ones who stick it out to the end. I read about a marathon runner writing about his experience in a race. He described a point mid way through the race when his energy seemed to fail and he felt like giving up. He said he always got to this point but he had learnt that the only thing to do was to press on and the feeling would pass and then he could run on to the end and finish.  

If you feel your energy has run out and you can't complete what you started I suggest you say a prayer. Just ask for help! And then be prepared to receive the help that will be sent in whatever form and carry on!


Image courtesy of Vlado at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Celtic Christianity - use with care

The journalist Clifford Langley writes about religious matters for the London Times. He felt strongly that that it is time for a backlash against Celtic Christianity. 

"It is truly the myth whose time has come. But its very convenience, its extraordinary ability to meet so many current needs, should make us suspicious. For it is also, to use an old Celtic expression, phony baloney—a legend still in the process of being invented. … It will be all things to all men and score high in the ballyhoo department. A touch of scepticism would be timely."

There is some truth in what he says but I believe we also have to acknowledge that what is called Celtic Christianity has enriched the faith of many. We must not lose perspective. While we recognise that there may be some helpful truths in ancient prayers and verses, we must not forget that they also come from a time where the understanding of the world was very different to our present day world-view. We cannot jump back centuries and inhabit the mindset of iron age people, if we really could know what that was. The dangers and trials we face day to day are very different to those faced by people in centuries past. Life was different - very very different then and we kid ourselves if we imagine that we can simply transfer their way of looking at the world into our lives.  I enjoy elements of Celtic spirituality in my Christian practice but I don't pretend that this is anything other than a contemporary way of looking at the world. 


I took the photo in the grounds of Iona Abbey, Scotland.

Spring - a poem

LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.

by William Wordsworth.

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it griev'd my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trail'd its wreathes;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopp'd and play'd:
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made,
It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If I these thoughts may not prevent,
If such be of my creed the plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

 Image courtesy of James Barker at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

St Patrick's evening prayer

Night can be one of the terrors of childhood. People are often afraid of the dark because they don't know what is going on around them. There may be nothing harmful near but noises that in the day mean nothing, can sound terrifying in the dark. And so it was in the tradition of the Christian church that special prayers have been said for protection during the night hours, when we surrender consciousness to the mystery of sleep. The service of compline is the last service of the day in the traditional monastic daily cycle of prayer in which the participants ask for protection from all the dangers and perils of the night. St Patrick is attributed with the following song for use in the evening before bedtime and has been translated from the ancient Irish.

AN EVEN-SONG  -  PATRICK SANG THIS

May Thy holy angels, O Christ, son of living God,

Guard our sleep, our rest, our shining bed.

Let them reveal true visions to us in our sleep,

O high-prince of the universe, O great king of the mysteries!

May no demons, no ill, no calamity or terrifying dreams

Disturb our rest, our willing, prompt repose.

May our watch be holy, our work, our task,

Our sleep, our rest without let, without break.

From the book "Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry" translated by Kuno Meyer (1911)

Image courtesy of Photokanok at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Celtic monks had a sense of humour and cats

In the book "Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry" translated by Kuno Meyer (1911) is the poem below about a monk and his cat. It seems that the fascination with all things to do with cats is not just an internet sensation. Centuries before facebook monks were observing and delighting in their pet cats! Enjoy!

THE MONK AND HIS PET CAT

I and my white PangurHave each his special art:His mind is set on hunting mice,Mine is upon my special craft.

I love to rest—better than any fame!—With close study at my little book:White Pangur does not envy me:He loves his childish play.

When in our house we two are all alone—A tale without tedium!We have—sport never-ending!Something to exercise our wit.

At times by feats of derring-doA mouse sticks in his net,While into my net there dropsA difficult problem of hard meaning.

He points his full shining eyeAgainst the fence of the wall:I point my clear though feeble eyeAgainst the keenness of science.

He rejoices with quick leapsWhen in his sharp claw sticks a mouse:I too rejoice when I have graspedA problem difficult and dearly loved.

Though we are thus at all times,Neither hinders the other,Each of us pleased with his own artAmuses himself alone.

[Pg 82]

He is a master of the workWhich every day he does:While I am at my own workTo bring difficulty to clearness.

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Learning from a Celtic hermit

A hermit is someone who escapes from the world to live simply in a remote place in order that they may cultivate their relationship with God. It is not about running away from life for when we are on our own we can become very aware of ourselves and the things about ourselves that are hidden by the noise of life going on around us. The fantasies of our dreams will become more intense in the long hours of solitude. The hermits life was hard but ultimately rewarding.  In the simplicity of a hut or cave in a remote place hermits were known for their wisdom and would be sought out for advice. 

In Lent as we think about what is really important in life and how we clutter our lives with so much that doesn't ultimately matter, the ancient Irish hermits song speaks to us of finding the real meaning of life.

THE HERMIT'S SONG

I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal King,
For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it may be my dwelling.
An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its side,
A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace of the Holy Spirit.
Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every side,
To nurse many-voiced birds, hiding it with its shelter.
A southern aspect for warmth, a little brook across its floor,
A choice land with many gracious gifts such as be good for every plant.
A few men of sense—we will tell their number—
Humble and obedient, to pray to the King:—
Four times three, three times four, fit for every need,
Twice six in the church, both north and south:—
Six pairs besides myself,
Praying for ever the King who makes the sun shine.
A pleasant church and with the linen altar-cloth, a dwelling for God from Heaven;
Then, shining candles above the pure white Scriptures.
One house for all to go to for the care of the body,
Without ribaldry, without boasting, without thought of evil.
This is the husbandry I would take, I would choose, and will not hide it:
Fragrant leek, hens, salmon, trout, bees.
Raiment and food enough for me from the King of fair fame,
And I to be sitting for a while praying God in every place.

This poem is found in "Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry" TRANSLATED BY  KUNO MEYER
LONDON   1911

Image courtesy of Evgeni Dinev at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Change

The phrase "each day is a fresh start" is especially true for me today. Yesterday was my final day in one job and I have today started on a journey towards something new. I have to go through a process that will both test and equip me for whatever lies ahead. 

Facing change can be scary. Human beings like what we know. It makes us feel comfortable. But everything in life changes. Every day we grow older as cells in our bodies die and are replaced by new ones. Plants grow and die and the tide washes in and out bringing a fresh pattern to the beach every time. As we look around us the only things that are unchanging are human ideas that we have become stuck with. People who never change their ideas can get left behind as the world moves on and leaves them isolated in a kind of metaphorical stale and stagnant pool. 

The whole meaning of life is change. Where is God in this change? Is God the one immortal and unchanging reality under-girding all that is? This is true but also God is beyond reality so his unchanging nature is also changing as we perceive it in different ways from our changing perspectives. Some theologians would say God changes as well.

Certainly no one could doubt that human understanding of God has changed over the centuries. However much our lives and our perspectives change we can be sure that God's love and support for us never alters. With that assurance we can face change and challenge knowing that which is ultimately most important is secure. 

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net