Irena Sendler

This is Irena Sendler, who died aged 98. She was a plumber in the Warsaw ghetto. She saved 2,500 infants and children by smuggling them out in her toolbox and van. She kept a list of their names in a glass jar under a tree in her garden and after the war tried to reunite them with relatives. She was nominated for the Nobel Peace prize the year it was awarded to Al Gore - not a bad bloke of course but not someone who actually put his life on the line for peace like Irena. She was German - I think Irena means peace (I checked that with Bob because his mum had the same name).

The return of the carrier pigeon

Yesterday my computer broke. The hard drive ground to a halt.
Thankfully Bob being a super computer wizard managed to save all the files to his wacky filestore system. But for now I'm without my usual computer which sounds odd because it's only really half my life, or less, that I've had a usual computer. I'm a self taught computer user and a Bob backed up one. He is my computer guru. Without him I'd still be using an Amstrad (maybe someone reading this still is). But when they break down I know nothing.
At least with a carrier pigeon you could give it a bit of TLC, put it's wing in a sling, give it as leg brace made from matchsticks and a bit of polly-filler to eat. But I can't think of anything useful to do with a broken computer. Maybe if we all used carrier pigeons more there would be fewer now making a great deal of noise in the trees around here as they get a bit amorous for Spring. Maybe I should start a campagin for the return of the carrier pigeon as a medium of communication. Perhaps someone could do a tweet on that!

A fresh expression of Lent

I went to a meeting on Wednesday (and survived - nice beetroot soup and chocolate brownies) about Fresh Expressions. It's a phrase that winds me up when used in connection with the church. Let's face it most of the so called fresh expressions are already well past their sell by date. And what should we call what's left: stale expressions? Can't really see anyone going for that. It all sounds like a coffee outlet to me or as Hannah sometimes says 'the church trying too hard to be trendy'. Added to which I'm often grumpy in Lent. It's not the giving things up, as I rarely do. It's more the notion that Lent is Lent and we should all get on with it. Just like some Bishop said Advent is about sin, so Lent is a time for the church to pontificate about what Lent is and stuff. I advocate letting it all hang out in Lent. Seems to me Lent is bonkers. Half way between Christmas and Easter is just when all the things we put off until after Christmas and all the ones we want to get in before Easter colide. Then there's Lent groups and Lent lunches and Lent prayers and Lent this and that. So how about letting it all hang out in Lent. Here's a few words about Lent being bonkers to get you started:

Lent is bonkers

Lent is bonkers:
you and me God
belting round the universe
sometimes this way
sometimes that.
There’s those who say
‘Be quiet’
And I say ‘Naff off’.
There are those that say
‘Do it this way’
And I say ‘Not on your life’.
Folding paper,
painting faces,
holding string,
sticking notes on everything,
I cartwheel across
from one planet to another.
But there’s a day coming:
you and me God
we know this day,
when everything hangs
in the balance
and the Life Giver
gives it all up
that we may live on.
I’ve got it in my sights now:
my heart is racing,
I can’t stop it.
Lent is bonkers:
so much for forty days and nights.
When only one counts
this is the One we can count on.


JAL: 26.02.2010

Sad and speechless

I've just posted a piece on the Women in Ministries blog at http://womenministrynetwork.blogspot.com/2010/02/treatment-of-women-in-yarls-wood.html
about the treatment of some women detained in Yarl's Wood Immigration Centre. You may have seen the hunger strike there reported in the press recently.
The events described by Mojirola, a detainee from Nigeria with three British born children, are appauling. I'm sad but speechless.
The forgein secretary seems to think it is OK to hide information about the abuse of a British resident on the grounds that it might negatively influence our relationship with another country, as reported earlier this week. I wonder what country wants to continue such a relationship. It's like a person deciding not to report her/his brother-in-law for domestic violence because he might not speak to him/her again!
Doubtless the home secretary will now find some way of fudging the issue about the abusive treatment of women in Yarl's Wood. These are our sisters.

These are our sisters,
wonderful sisters:
resourceful,
persistent.
We will not forget them.

Sad but wise

Over on Jane's blog she's wondering about being sad but wise. It seems to me that one of the wonders of a trinitarian God is that God can be many different things at once, so here's a few words on that subject:

Sad but wise

Sad God, wise too,
I also weep with you.
I examine myself and see what you see,
Or at least some of it.
I am sad but wiser.
I look at the world and see what you see,
Or at least some of it.
I am sad but wiser.

Sad wise God,
Who in Jesus
Wisely but sadly called Lazarus back to life,
Call us back too,
That both wise and sad
We may make a new start
Amongst your kin and kindom.

JAL: 11.02.2010

Cell and cloister

As we walked round our cloister (other people call it Greenhead Park), the walking buddies reflected on some of the seven sacred spaces. It is currently being redeveloped - hence the keep out sign.

In our own homes, we acknowledge, different spaces fill different functions. The cell is really important in the kind of lives we lead. To have our own personal individual space is a priority. We decorate it as we like. We may have more than one area that fills this function: bedroom and study can be different sorts of cells. These are definitely luxuries for many people in our culture. Early monastics slept in communal spaces, but few of us share with large groups on a long term basis now, unlike those living in poverty in poor families world-wide. New monasticism in our own homes is one thing, but how to keep it fair and just is quite another.

So we kept walking. Our daily route has become our cloister. Others join in sometimes and we meet and greet as well as walk and talk. Too many things at once can leave you breathless. We pass the diggers in the park and the squirrels cross our paths too. Our cloister is public space but we only greet people we know and that isn't very many. Once again we see the private side of life in Britain rather than the wider communal understanding that the early monastics had. Even so, it has made us think about our own spaces and how we use them, our hopes and dreams and what we would like to change.

God you call us through the wood;

through the wood you speak to us.

May we, your wood-wise ones,

touch wood with you,

hang onto your promises

and help shape the dreams of community

that only cross-wise commitment brings.

More new monasticism

I've been getting more excited about new monasticsm this week. I've been reading several things about 'seven sacred spaces': places which are important to community building. These are found in both the early monastic traditions and the current 'fresh expressions' (yes I know it sounds like a coffee outlet) of monasticism.

They are:

Cell: a space for the individual to grow, pray, rest and reflect;

Chapel: a communal space for worship and liturgy

Garden: a space for physical work and the growth of what the community needs to thrive;

Refectory: an eating and serving space;

Cloister: a moving and greeting space;

Scriptorum: a sort of study/library space;

and Chapter: a sort of communal conversation space.

Some writers suggest that these spaces have now largely become individual or relegated to the private sphere. We have our own spaces and shared space is more for business and commerce, leisure and learning. But is it sacred: a place to encounter God?

Well any space could be of course. But I began by thinking about the spaces I use and their meaning to me. I agreed with some writers that Cell is now more meaningful to me than Chapel. George Lings suggests we are breeding a race of 'de-churched hermits' who do their spirituality in their private or personal space but less so in public worship and litury and chapel space, partly because our churches are not often winsome enough to do this anymore.

I think I might be a de-churched hermit. It's not a bad thing to be, but it might have it's limitations. However, it can also be very attractive. Sometimes I just don't want to leave my cell.

Of course there are other sacred spaces in our house. The corridors do act as a sort of moving and greeting space like a clositer as George also suggested - but then we have big corridors! Garden has grown in importance as a sacred space, especially in this house as it has a nice but useful garden. Refectory can be on our knee in the sitting room as often as at table in the dining room - such a common trend but it doens't mean it's not sacred.

I'm going to continue thinking about these spaces for a bit and talk to others about them. If you want to leave a comment that would be much appreciated.

God of space,

outer, inner and virtual,

space us out with your presence

that we may connect with each other

and with the earth

and make community a place

where all may live on.

New Monastacism

There was a programme on Radio 4 yesterday in the Beyond Belief series on New Monastacism. My monastic friend, Bob Warwicker, drew my attention to it last night. You can still catch it on the BBC i-player (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00qbw64#synopsis).
Three people were discussing their views on Fresh Expressions of Monasticism, like the Northumbrian Community and Western Bhuddism. As a Reformed Nun if there's one thing that will drive me bonkers is all this Fresh Expressions talk. Sounds like a coffee outlet to me. Fresh Expressions of Religious and Faith movements is an oxymoron. Religion and Faith are constantly articulating fresh expressions. If they weren't they'd be dead (come to think of it....). Seriously, the only live faith is a fresh one. Reformed Nuns rule OK because we have been exploring and reforming what it means to make a life time faith committment all of our lives - as has any other person serious about their faith. Problem is too many people visit the tombs of religion and faith and expect to find the living there. No chance.
In a month when being Benedictine suddenly became more hip again, St B was by no means turning in his grave. He was roaring the praise of God in the countless company of heaven, like any sensible creative saint.

Then this morning Hilary told me about the Slanket - it's blanket with arms (http://www.theslanket.com/). Just the kind of habit for a new monastic. Check it out!

In good time

In these hasty train catching days it's easy to miss the connection. As things stand, I'm still amazed by the number of awesome moments over the last two weeks which sometimes leave me too weak for words.

There was an article I wrote about prayer in Reform in January (see http://www.urc.org.uk/ for Reform) in which I mentioned my tendency to pray the hours. This habit goes back to my days with Benedictine Nuns in the 1980s, as does my ulitmate wish to live on a roundabout in a hut and grow vegetables. This articles resulted in an avalanche of correspondence about prayer. Well aside from breathing it maybe one of the most widely practiced human arts: 90% of people say they pray (obviously 100% say they breathe at some time or another). So in some ways I shouldn't be surprised by the volume of correspondence. But I do want to say thanks. Thanks to all who wrote, or texted, or phoned or even just thought about it. It humbled and amazed me.

It has been a time of gifts. As I walked around the park with Angela and Hilary today (that was 2 miles in 33 minutes!) I saw a leaping squirrel. It reminded me of this written in 2008:

Acorn time

It’s acorn time again:
A bounding squirrel zigzags across the lawn,
mouth full, tail flashing like quicksilver,
finds a spot and looks around,
then quickly buries the treasure for harder days.

Darting Spirit,
may the treasure buried in us,
be the store we draw on in difficult times.
May acorn time remind us of the unexpected hoard
that is contained within each person.
Give us a Vision4life so that
like the squirrel, we may find
with surprise, the gifts we each have
and unearth them to share with our community.

Among the dead

On Jane's blog she had a joke by a Bishop (I think his name was George) about how he didn't want to get up and go to church. The hymns were dreary, the sermons were dull, the people hated him, but he had to go: he was the Bishop. I think I need to met George before too long. I'd like to tell him he doesn't have to go. I know many people think they do and faithfully go on doing it. But I do not share this view. On Monday I hope to go to Cardiff where I have been asked to share some bible studies using RB (of course) for a Council for World Mission group on Evangelism in Europe. Well, of course I was surprised. But I'm going, even if I'm not giving the bible study they wanted: What does the bible say about evangelism? I told them I couldn't do that because I didn't know. I said I do some RB and they said I could if it wasn't too scary.

That's what it has come down to. Not being too scary. The dying church doesn't like its gospel too scary. Back in Bethany (where else) the neighbours are still talking about Lazarus and the scare they got when he came out of the stinking tomb, bandages flapping. Me, I'm with Lazarus. I hope to meet George sometime and invite him along.

Among the dead

Whisper softly,
speak in hushed voices
but do not disturb the dying.
Be respectful,
keep your eyes lowered,
as it dies little by little.

But you,
you who have already been in the tomb
three or four days,
who have smelt your own stench
and then emerged
at the call of the Life Giver:
you are not afraid.

For you,
you who make up words
who use your own given name
and dance on graves
flinging bandages about
celebrating release:
you are not afraid.

You already know
that body is not here.
There’s no point in seeking the living
among the dead.

JAL: 23.01.2010

Rejoice

Bob came back this morning and said 'Our bins have been emptied'. This is a joyous event! The first bin emptying of 2010 - due to challenging conditions. So here's a prayer for bin emptying.

Rejoice greatly

Rejoice
Rejoice
Rejoice greatly:
our bins have been emptied,
been emptied
been emptied.

We rejoice for the emptying of bins,
the cleaning of streets
and the sorting out of communal space.

When the snow came everything stopped
and the white washed out our collective memory
our rubbish and mess,

But now our lives are getting back on track.
The council workers are getting back on schedule
and our neighbourhoods are getting back in order.

Mindful of the need to sweep our lives clean,
to recycle what good there is in what we’ve done in the past
so that we may make a better attempt at today and tomorrow,
we ask you to refresh us in our efforts to make good our community.

And so we rejoice.
happy to have a chance to try again
and to have empty bins to refill carefully.

JAL: 22.01.2010
The first stanza in italics should be sung lustily in the style of Handel.

Rocking the cradle

Over on Jane's blog she is blogging about her sermon this morning on the parable of the woman looking for the lost coin, and prayers for Haiti. So here are more prayers to add to the world's prayers for Haiti today.

God is sweeping

God is sweeping up the dust,
clearing away the rubble
checking every pile
that was once a house or school,
hotel or office block,
for the precious ones
who are lost.

God will keep on sweeping,
checking, looking, weeping
as the numbers mount up
and the mass graves are filled.

God will keep on rocking,
rocking the world
in the cradle she has made.
She only asks that we help
to rock as we can.

Today, please help to rock the cradle for Haiti.

God of all,
give us life
one more time.


JAL: 15.01.2010

Learning to talk

'Learning to talk is very important', parents in NE Sheffield agree. This was the stunning conclusion of my PhD. Learning to talk is also very complicated and so you can appreciate why the appointment of a Communications Champion by the current British government has aroused my interest, despite heaps of snow in West Yorkshire.

Dr Jean Gross, the new CC, was reported across the British press yesterday. The Daily Mail went with 'Middle-class parents too busy to teach children how to talk, says "communication champion",' Whilst the Guardian had 'Parents too busy to help children learn to talk, study suggests'.

Like I said, learning to talk is very complicated. I realise that is never going to be a sound bite in anyone's newspaper. However, my own study of the life experiences of parents in NE Sheffield parenting children learning to talk makes nonsense of both headlines.

It's nearer the truth to say;
1 parents think that learning to talk is very important;
2 parents expect their children to learn to talk and when this doesn't happen most are surprised, sometimes frustrated and have limited resources for dealing with the situation;
3 parents of children learning to talk are usually juggling many more family life pressures and issues alongside this one;
4 most parents, including those from multicultral parts of NE Sheffield (this study was done in the parliamentary consitituency of Sheffield Brightside) have some parental knowledge about learning to talk. That is to say, they have attitudes, beliefs and experiences on which to build when it comes to parenting in this situation. Few, if any at all, will be completely without this, and few will apreciate the patronising approach of so called experts who act as if parents know nothing.

Meanwhile on her blog, Anita, has something to say about the role of the third sector in supporting and promoting parents of children with communication needs. Check it out: http://www.thecommunicationtrust.blogspot.com/

Raw prayer

I heard today that a local youth I knew, Peter, died on Christmas Day, aged 17. He leaves his mother, Margaret and his father, Stephen. Remember them.

And as you remember, remember this...

At the bottom of the mountain, Jesus meets a boy with epilepsy and his family (I go back ot this incident often) and the father says 'help my unbelief', as any of us might, and the mother says nothing, as any of us might, and Jesus says to the disciples 'this comes right only with prayer' and that's what any of us might discover through the Holy Spirit at the bottom of any mountain.

Dying day

Tomorrow will be my dying day:
the day before yesterday was yours.
You didn’t buy a ticket,
you didn’t book a place
and yet there you were
suddenly at the front of the queue.
Never one to push yourself forward,
you had been propelled there
by a few ill-chosen breaths.
Of course it’s all behind you now,
while we that are left grow old
and still have to face the final hurdle;
waiting for the chance to catch a note
of that endless chorus you now sing
and hoping this will not break us.

For today, God of all,
give us peace, one more time.

JAL: 27.12.2009
In memory of Peter

Today

What sort of day will it be today? There's nothing like unexpected weather to create uncertainty in Britain. Basingstoke has been particularly vulnerable to this phenomenon but there's hardly a corner of the UK untouched by it, according to the news. All this dreaming of a white Christmas that goes on year after year has suddenly become the last thing we really want for Christmas now it looks possible. So what sort of day is our Advent day today? Here's a few possible descriptions:

Present day

Advent day
Waiting day
Snowy day
Weathery day
Slipping day
Sliding day
Travelling day
Biding day
Visiting day
Minding day
Thinking day
Deciding day
Going day
Staying day
Action day
Resting day
Living day
Dying day
Present day
Emmanuel day

Janet Lees: 24.12.2009

She's a woman

If you've not already seen the poet laureate's poem for the 12 days of Christmas you must not miss it. It is at http://www.radiotimes.com/content/features/carol-ann-duffy-the-twelve-days-of-christmas/
Well done Carol Ann Duffy. It's moving, it's relevant and it's really good. I always knew we needed a woman as poet laureate.
In these snowy Huddersfield days when everything is covered in a thick blanket of white such that you can be forgiven for thinking nothing else exisits outside the warm shell you have created we need this stuff to keep us active and concious. Note the 12 drummers drumming - drumming for Cpenhagen still. If we'd gone on a few verses we might have made it to 350 ringers ringing and got further than the delegates themselves managed to.

Year of the Nurse 2010

It seems that 2010 is to be the Year of the Nurse - so says the Nightingale Declaration at http://www.nightingaledeclaration.net/.


Of course this is dear to me having been the daughter of one and th neice of another nurse. Anne, my mum (died 2007) is on the left and Betty, her sister (died 2005) is on the right. Both were nurses as you can see.

Here's a piece I wrote about them both a couple of years ago, a month after my mum's death, which is influenced by RB and the story of Martha and Mary:


Two Sisters

There were two sisters.
One was married and one was single and they lived together in the home of the married one.
One was extrovert, outgoing, practical. She would invite many people to the house, make lots of food and feed everyone. She would also help people with practical family problems in sickness and in health.
One was introvert, quiet, reflective. She would prefer to be on her own, reading a book or the paper, listening to the radio. If you asked her for help she would give it willingly; the washing or the ironing.
They seemed quite different.
They shared the same profession both being nurses, but they practiced it in different ways. One was the career nurse who had managed wards and even a whole hospital (in the days when the NHS was like that). Her quiet authority had transmitted itself to staff and patients alike. One was a nurse alongside other roles in family and community, sharing her skills and knowledge with anyone who asked, mentoring young people, supporting old ones. Her practical action helped many to cope with life’s ordinary challenges.
But they were also very similar: generous with their time and resources, they both enjoyed music and reading, and were very faithful to each other.

I knew them both and they both influenced my life. One, the practical extrovert, was my mother. The other, the reflective introvert, was my aunt. I am like them both; practical and reflective. Theirs was not a competitive relationship: there was no ‘better part’. Rather they each made a contribution to the whole of life, lived in the company of the Life Giver, each one giving what they were, wholly vulnerable.

JAL: 19.10.2007

A ringing good day

Over on Jane's blog you can read about the plan to have 350 rings, bongs, bangs or hoots tomorrow for climate change: http://stranzblog.blogspot.com/2009/12/get-ready-to-ring-church-bells-across.html

I wondered how we could do this in a small village church in the north of England, one with no bells and few people. Last night we heard the mighty Huddersfield Choral Society raise the roof of the Town Hall with thi annual Christmas concert. All the old favourites were sung and some new ones. So it made me think: they had tubular bells - we don't have any of those. They had jingle bells - the little hand held bells you had in primary school - we've got some of those!!!

So here's the jingle bells theme adpated for climate change ringers everywehre:

A ringing good day

Bells ring out
Bells ring out
Bells ring out all day
As bells ring out around the world:
Protect the world today!

Bells ring out
Are you listening?
Ring out loud
Are you listening?
We’re happy today
To worship and pray
Working for a much fairer world

Bells ring out
Bells ring out
Bells ring out all day
As bells ring out around the world:
Protect the world today!

Drums beat out
Are you listening?
Beat out loud
Are you listening?
We’ll beat a loud song
As we right the wrong
Working for a much fairer world

Bells ring out
Bells ring out
Bells ring out all day
As bells ring out around the world:
Protect the world today!

JAL: 12.12.2009
To a well known Christmas tune

Advent and sin

It seems Advent goes with sin like kippers go with custard (i.e. it's not to everyone's taste). Sin has become one of those dated words fewer and fewer ordinary people use. Maybe we can't scrap it altogether (I'm sure a bishop or two would have something to say about that) but maybe we can find some more relevant words to use. Someone I read about recently suggested 'abuse' was a good word to swap for sin. I'll think about it.

Meanwhile what about RB for Advent? There's all that exciting stuff about the end times - a bit like the far fetched plot of a dodgy video game. Then there's John the Baptist - now you're talking.

We did some RB on John the Baptist at the weekend. Some lovely things about John the Baptist have come up in RB like John being a Baptist because that's his name. Good thing he wasn't called John the United Reformer then wasn't it! But the best memory I have of John the Baptist is the tin of dried grass hoppers my mum won in a raffle when I was about 8 years old. Yes, I know he ate locqusts but they don't do them in tins it seems. This lovely unopened but fading tin of dried grasshoppers is still on my shelf to remind me of John the B and all his austere ways. I'm not sure they've not passed their sell by date but speaking personally my austerity measures only go as far as nonfat milk (that's the stuff with the red tops).

Advent days

‘Advent is not supposed to be about ‘happiness’. It is about judgement’ said the Bishop of Repton. [1] Just goes to show what he knows about it. Seems to me quite possible that this rather limited view of it has sucked quite a lot of life from Advent already. There are many different days in Advent; some happy, some less so. But let's not rule out happy days from Day 1. And as for judgement, that's something we all need to learn: to discern when and where, as the days of Advent move from one to the next, just what the possibilities might be. Here are my prayers so far for the days of Advent 2009.

Mundane day

On a mundane day it’s easy to miss the thistledown
floating by on the breeze to settle and root elsewhere.
In commonplace spaces it’s easy to overlook
the uncommon, small and rare things under stones.
In ordinary time it’s easy to forget the extraordinary,
the celebration of sunrise that lifts me.

As tiredness seeps into me
and weariness weighs me down
it’s easier to make my litany
from a limiting list of negatives
than a liberating whisper of possibilities.

In the still moment, confirm in me
the possibility and the surprise.

JAL: for 01.12.2009
altered from 07.06.2009

Happy Day

Advent God,
As we wait out these happy days
welcome us in from the drafty doorstep
of the tomb lined garden
into the warmth of your company
to share the wine of your kindom.

JAL: 02.12.2009

Round and round the park

Round and round the park,
all three or a pair:
one lap, two laps,
then smoothie we can share.

Body-wise God,
keep us moving all our days.

JAL: 03.12.2009


Slow moving sun

All hail to you, slow moving sun
symbol of creation’s energy.
All hail to you, full setting moon
making dawn so awesome.

All hail to you, slow moving One,
plodding on with us daily.
From sunrise to sunset,
moonrise to moonset,
may we be Son-wise people.

JAL: 04.12.2009

Body days

Praise God with the gurgling tummy.
Praise God with the amputated limb.
Praise God with the cleft palate.
Praise God with the deleted chromosome.
Let every impaired one praise God.

God, you know me and my impairments.
You know what I remember and what I forget.
You know what I hear and what I miss.
You know when I sing in tune and when I don’t.
You know the rhythms of my body and when I’m out of synch.
You know my anger and my anxiety,
What keeps me awake at night
And what causes me to doze off in meetings.

When I’m feeling alive
and creativity is pouring out of me,
then you dance with me.
When I’m feeling dead
and despair is seeping into me
then you curl up with me.
When anxiety freezes me
or anger makes my insides molten
you are alongside me.

As I walk round the park
You keep me company.
When I eat with friends
You break bread with us.
My breath is like a warm fog
That fills me lungs
And permeates every cell.
My skin is like a blanket,
A coat that defines
my insides and outsides.

Each cell has its role,
Its DNA, mitochondria and whatnot.
When a pain comes
Help me to respond equitably,
Accepting my body’s message
Without anger or undue anxiety.
May my breath praise you,
My heart beat for you
And my body rise to you.

JAL: 05/06.12.2009
After Psalm 139, at Gateways into Prayer.

Tree Planter

Cosmic Christ, growing up in a carpenter’s shop,
meeting you death on a cross of wood,
bless these trees, ‘whips’ they call them,
that they may shelter and feed
the birds and animals around us
and give you glory in every season.


JAL: 07.12.2009
For the trees planted at Silcoates on 05.12.2009

Dismal Day

Weep, city weep.
Weep stones and streets,
houses and alleys:
weep now.
Weep with the Weeping One.
Who knows what makes for peace?
He knows and shows
the way to peace
for this and every city.

JAL: 08.12.2009
For Luke 19 in the Yorkshire Gospels.


[1] Quoted in the Guardian, 05.12.2009