Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts

Sunday, April 01, 2018

Easter Dawn




He blesses every love which weeps and grieves
And now he blesses hers who stood and wept
And would not be consoled, or leave her love’s
Last touching place, but watched as low light crept
Up from the east. A sound behind her stirs
A scatter of bright birdsong through the air.
She turns, but cannot focus through her tears,
Or recognise the Gardener standing there.

She hardly hears his gentle question ‘Why,
Why are you weeping?’, or sees the play of light
That brightens as she chokes out her reply
‘They took my love away, my day is night’
And then she hears her name, she hears Love say
The Word that turns her night, and ours, to Day.

Malcolm Guite 


A very blessed Easter to you all






Sonnet from: Sounding the Seasons

Music:   Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)   Marienlieder - Opus. 22 (1859) - VI. Magdalena

Image:  Master Henri, Noli Me Tangere from Livre d'Images de Madame Marie Belgian (Hainault),
               1285-1290. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France


Friday, March 30, 2018

Stabat Mater





Stabat Mater dolorosa
Iuxta crucem lacrimosa
Dum pendebat filius.

In sorrow a mother stood
By the cross and wept
While her son hung there.






Image:  Crucifixion, part of a series depicting the stations of the Cross. Chapel Nosso Senhor dos Passos, Santa Casa de Misericórdia of Porto Alegre, Brazil. Oil on canvas, 19th century, unknown artist.

Music:  Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710-1736)   Stabat Mater (1736)


Sunday, April 16, 2017

Resurrexit!




He is risen and I know that my redeemer lives.

Wishing you all a very joyful Easter.






Image: The Empty Tomb by Hanna Varghese (1938 – 2007) 
Music: Handel‘Messiah’.


Friday, April 14, 2017

Love to the loveless shown




My song is love unknown







Image:  A Flemish high-relief of the Crucifixion, second half of C17th.
Hymn:  Words (1664) by Samuel Crossman (1623-1683) 
               Music: Love Unknown (1925) by John Ireland (1879-1962) 


Sunday, March 27, 2016

Alleluia!






He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

I wish you all a very happy and blessed Easter.



Image:  ‘Noli me tangere’ by Giotto di Bondone  Cappella Scrovegni (Arena Chapel), Padua, circa 1304-06.

Words: Edmond Budry (1854-1932)
Music: Maccabeus (adapted from the oratorio by Georg Friedrich Handel, 1685-1759)



Friday, March 25, 2016

A green hill far away








Image: Crucifixion by Edward Vardanian ( born 1953 in Artashat, Armenia and moved to the USA in 1992.)

Words: Cecil Frances Alexander (1818-1895)        Music: Horsley  (William Horsley, 1774-1858)


Sunday, April 05, 2015

Do not be afraid




He is not here, for he has been raised.





Image :     Le Tombeau Vide by Bénédicte de la Roncière.

Hymn :     Words: George R. Woodward (1848-1934), 1894
                  Music: Vruechten (This Joyful Eastertide) (Dutch melody from David's Psalmen, Amsterdam, 1685,  
                                arranged Charles Wood, 1866-1926)


Friday, April 03, 2015

And they crucified him




   



Image:  The earliest crucifixion in an illuminated manuscript, from the Syriac Rabbula Gospels, 586 AD.

Music:  J S Bach ‘O sacred head, sore wounded’ from the St Matthew Passion, 1727.


Friday, June 06, 2014

A place apart

Come with me on the journey I made yesterday through the beautiful Welsh countryside to a remote and hidden valley, deep in the Berwyn Mountains. It lies more than two miles down a narrow, single track lane from the main road and to come to it is like stepping back through time and history.

There, in a typically Welsh mediaeval church, you will find a shrine to a 7th century saint. Shrine, church and valley together make what the ancient Celts used to call a “thin place” – a place where it is easy to feel that two worlds meet.

This is an ancient place. The circular churchyard, its very shape a sign of its antiquity, lies over a Bronze Age burial ground, dating back to around 1200BC. It is enclosed by a ring of venerable yew trees, some of which have been estimated to be at least 2000 years old.


It was here, so tradition and legend tell us, that an Irish princess named Melangell came to live as a Christian hermit in the 7th century and here that she was found at prayer by Brochwel, Prince of Powys, when he was out hunting. The hare he was chasing took refuge under Melangell’s skirt and the hounds fled.


Brochwel, impressed by Melangell and her story, gave her the valley of Pennant, where she founded a small religious community and where, after many years as its abbess, she died and was buried. 

The valley was then named after her and the shrine of Pennant Melangell became a place of pilgrimage for centuries, until it was dismantled at the Reformation and its stones were built into the walls of the church and the lych-gate.



The present church building, though much restored over the years, dates back to the 12th century and at its heart is the reconstructed shrine, its stones retrieved from their centuries-long resting places and reassembled where they once stood. Today it is again a centre of pilgrimage, where people come to be quiet and apart in a place, where, as the poet T S Eliot put it, prayer has been valid.



I was there for a Mothers’ Union Quiet Day and in the silence I discovered again the timeless beauty of a place I first visited nearly twenty years ago. 


I wandered the narrow, flower-edged lanes, 



stood stock-still for ages in the church porch 
to watch a pair of swallows feeding their young 



imagined the pilgrims who had made their way here over the centuries







and sat quietly in the rebuilt mediaeval apse of the church, 
absorbed in the play of light and shade 
on the plain, white-washed stone walls,



 and acutely conscious of the atmosphere of prayer.


When we reluctantly had to leave, we drove home a different way, over the Berwyns, past Bala and its lake and back to our own bit of Mid-Wales, almost overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur of the landscape of this little country in which we are fortunate enough to live. 






Saturday, April 26, 2014

On the way to church

One of the joys of church-going up here on the north coast of Scotland is the sheer beauty that surrounds me on the way to and from every service. As I've mentioned before, the church buildings I've known and loved in my life all matter hugely to me, but here the journey to worship itself can be as unique and awe-inspiring as any beautiful and ancient building.

I think a bit of background is probably needed to begin with, to show just why Holy Week and Easter here are so busy and yet so very special for me. The history of church life in Scotland since the reformation is very different from that south of the border. Here the parish churches found in every town and village belong to the Church of Scotland, which is Presbyterian. Anglicans such as myself are always made very welcome at their services, but if I want to attend worship in my own tradition, I have to find a congregation of the Scottish Episcopal Church and these are few and far between in this remote and sparsely-populated area.

Two years ago a new Episcopal congregation was inaugurated here in Tongue and we meet once a month on a Friday at a local retreat house, almost in the shadow of Ben Loyal, for a Eucharist followed by a very enjoyable shared lunch. People travel from a wide area to get here, with only a minority of people actually living in the immediate locality, and they need to be fed and watered before they make the journey home.

The view from the retreat house

We are part of what is known as the Northwest Charge, which covers the whole of the top left corner of the Highlands as far south as Ullapool. Our Rector lives 60 miles away and has 5 very scattered congregations in his care. I hate to think what his monthly mileage total must be! If we want to attend a Eucharist more than once a month, we too have to be prepared to travel.

Holy Week began of course with Palm Sunday and the Church of Scotland parish service was held across the Kyle on the Melness peninsula, in the most northerly church building on the British mainland.

The view across the Kyle of Tongue to the Melness peninsula

Melness church, built by local men for local people

Later in the week, on Maundy Thursday I went with 3 friends to an Episcopal Eucharist being held in one of the most unusual places of worship I’ve ever experienced. Once a month on a Thursday at mid-day, people gather from across an apparently empty landscape at the Crask Inn, about 20 miles south of here, and one of the most remote hostelries in the British Isles. As in Tongue, the service is followed by a shared lunch and the chance for a good chat to catch up with everyone’s news. Sadly the weather that day was so bad, with strong gales and driving sleet, that none of the photos in this section were taken by me. However the service was so moving that the battle against the elements faded into complete insignificance and only the experience of worship remains. 


The Crask Inn in sunshine and storm



The view from the inn car-park

Thankfully that was the last kick of winter and Good Friday dawned bright and sunny, as did the rest of the Easter weekend. On Easter Day I walked happily along the road, under a totally cloudless sky, to the parish church for a packed and joyful morning service.

Saint Andrew's Church, Tongue

The view from the church gate

Later that day, still in glorious sunshine, I drove with the same three friends along 50 miles of mainly single-track road across the hills and around the coast to the council day centre in the little fishing port of Kinlochbervie to make my Easter communion at a wonderful service, which was followed by an equally wonderful Highland tea. The drive home at sunset, with tendrils of mist beginning to curl up from the surface of the lochs, and the deer coming down from the hills to the water to drink, was so beautiful that it brought me close to tears at times.

The River Hope on its way from Loch Hope to the sea

Glorious Loch Eriboll, snapped from the car
The Pentland Firth, not the Mediterranean

Sangobeg Sands


Along the shore of the Kyle of Durness

Don't wake the sleeping dragon

Loch Sheigra and Loch Inchard at sunset

Yesterday a very special Easter celebration was rounded off by our monthly Eucharist at the retreat house. The sun may have disappeared behind a layer of thick, grey cloud, but nothing dims the warmth of the fellowship we enjoy and the significance we attach to the worship we travel so far to attend. And there isn't a pew or a stained-glass window to be seen anywhere….


Sunday, April 20, 2014

See the place where he lay







Easter blessings to you all



Hymn: Words: Compleat Psalmodist, 1749, based on a 14th century Latin carol, "Surrexit Christus hodie"
            Music: Easter Hymn (Lyra Davidica, 1708)

Image via Google: Women at the Empty Tomb: detail from stained glass window in Chartres Cathedral, c. 1150. 



Friday, April 18, 2014

Father, forgive them








Music: The Crucifixion by Sir John Stainer (1840 - 1901)

Image: Memorial window in the 16th Street Baptist Church, Birmingham, Alabama, to the children killed in the 1963 bombing of the church. Given by the people of Wales. Details here



Thursday, September 12, 2013

God bless the Celtic fringe

As you know, I don’t usually do rapid news flash posts, but I've just had news which has made this woman priest very happy indeed.  The Governing Body of the Church in Wales this afternoon voted overwhelmingly in favour of the ordination of women bishops. It was the amended Bill which was passed, with no constitutional changes now planned, but a code of practice for those who will find it hard to accept this development.

Wales now joins Scotland and Ireland in having opened the way for women bishops, though none have yet been elected. But one day it will happen (hopefully in my lifetime) and I’m so glad that the possibility is now there in the Church I love
and have served for many years.

Image via Google

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

A silver anniversary

After a lovely weekend with family, we finally arrived just after midnight and fell into bed. Today we evicted the spiders that always take up residence in our absence and have just finished unpacking. Giving thanks for the fact that the weather is dry, if rather cool, I've even made a start on trying to turn the hayfield that greeted us back into something vaguely resembling a lawn. Now we are both tired and ready for bed, but before I go, I can’t let this day end without mentioning that it has a very particular significance for me.

Twenty-five years ago, on Saturday June 25th 1988, I was ordained deacon, together with five others, by the then Bishop of Bangor. For me it was the culmination of a long process of discernment and part-time training, alongside my full-time work as a public librarian, and it was an extraordinarily happy and enjoyable day. It wasn't a historic occasion like my later ordination to the priesthood. Instead it was a family occasion, as our families, friends and church congregations came together to celebrate this new stage in all our lives. 

I have no photos of the ordination service itself, nor any formal posed portraits. What I have is a series of snapshots which I think give a good flavour of the happiness that permeated the crowd outside the cathedral west door after the service.  Twenty-five years on, I’m still profoundly grateful for that day and for the joys and satisfaction of the work it made possible for me. It has been sheer privilege. 

With our two children, who put up with a lot during my training

With my next-to-youngest sister, then and always a great support.

And with my dear Baby Sis. Why do big sisters always have to hold forth?

With DH, without whom I'd never have done any of it.

You've heard of Flying Bishops. Meet the flying deacon....

All the images have been scanned from the hard copy originals of those long-ago pre-digital days.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Why do you seek the living among the dead?






Wishing you all a joyful Easter.



Image: Nicholas Haberschrack: The Three Marys at the Tomb  Polish circa 1470


Friday, March 29, 2013

Love so amazing

                                                                           






Image: Crucifixion 1946 by Graham Sutherland

Hymn: Words by Isaac Watts 1707, melody Rockingham 1790



Thursday, March 28, 2013

Missing Holy Week


It’s Maundy Thursday today and if life were normal I would be going to church this evening for one of my favourite services of the year. The week would have begun with the joyful celebration of Palm Sunday, but also the reading of the Passion narrative in preparation for the week to come. As it happens DH and I have spent the last two Easters in the far north of Scotland, so this would have been the first time for a while that I had celebrated Holy Week with my friends in Wales.  

There would have been small, quiet services on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday evening and this evening the celebration of a very special communion service followed by a silent vigil. Tomorrow there will be the deeply reflective commemoration of the Crucifixion followed by the hiatus that is Easter Eve and then the glory of Easter Day.

All of these are meant to be celebrated in company – Christians coming together to be part of the most important week of the Christian year and before this week I could never have imagined how much I would miss being part of it all. I feel rootless and cast adrift, thrown back on my own resources and not liking the experience and what it tells me of my own inadequacies.

As it is I am taking enormous comfort and sustenance from the many blogs I follow which are marking the passage of Holy Week with art, music and very thoughtful meditations and I’d like to say a big thank-you to all of them.  I shall never take the company of others for granted again.

Image via Google