one of my favourite passages today, with a valentine’s twist.
Category: church
unexpected joy
Christmas (like St Steven’s Day?) comes in its own time, no matter what the calendar says.
We had a lovely midnight mass, and a good Christmas morning. But by yesterday, I was really too tired to care. There was a moment of happiness when there was indeed a box of chocolates lurking in the pile of gifts (thank you, kind undertaker), and real laughter and joy when a present fell out of a stocking with the tell-tale pointy ears of a wiska’s-cat-treat box (I just love it when kind members of the congregation bring Molly gifts). Otherwise, what I really wanted was sleep.
But tonight… tonight was blessed.
We are doing Storytelling for the Twelve Days of Christmas. It seemed like a good idea when we first talked about it — and it seemed like a truly terrible idea when I realised that it was not going to be possible for others to share in the burden, and I would be on duty every day till Epiphany.
Today was not meant to be my day, and it was with heavy heart that I set aside ‘nap’ for ‘planning’ this afternoon — not least since there was the usual fear that no one would come.
But they came. Not many, but they came. And it was wonderful.
We gathered in the story-telling tent with hot chocolate and candy canes. I told a story about Luke the Ox, learning to hope for a King from wise old Isaiah-Ox. Then we read Room for a Little One, which has Luke in the starring role. (in my world, at least.)
We talked about the animals in the stable and then listened to the Carnival Band singing ‘Journey to Bethlehem — the Animal’s Song’. They joined in the mooing and baaing and hee-hawing, and we all delighted in the xxxsss of the camel.
We stepped away from Christmas — which felt risky– with Trevor Dennis’ God’s Delight. The Kangaroo got a better tail, the angels learned to slide down the girraffe’s neck, and human beings were created for the first time. The story took a somber turn when the humans forget to delight with the angels, and we were urged to remember to dance with God.
So I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming —
but when one of the girls said, ‘can we dance then?’ it was sheer delight.
Angels form the Realms of Glory (barn-dance version from Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band) had us spinning and running around, and then we refilled our cups of hot chocolate, and settled down for Only a Star.
It was an utter delight.
And of course, the tradition has now been formed. I need not only stories, but songs and dances each night.
… and next time, I must remember my slippers.
generous vision
This Advent, I have been enjoying the Advent Calendar from Trinity, Wall Street.
Each day, there is a profile of a different young person or community project, linking faith and action. The whole structure of volunteering is different in the States, and I think the churches are richer (and catholic theology more balanced) for the work that is done.
I love that Trinity has gone to all this trouble to highlight good work being done throughout the church — for these are not just stories of New York, but from everywhere.
Today’s post — the 14th — is about a project in New Haven, CT, and it includes pictures of the church that I usually go to when I’m ‘home.’ Not St Thomas’, of recent finding, but Christ Church, which I have returned to for 20 years for beauty, music and the tangible presence of God. Just the tiny glimpse of the building was enough to make me wistful for Christmas Midnight services which begin in quiet darkness, and are vast enough to hold not only full circles, but stately-8-swings of the thurible.
If you check out the calendar, don’t forget to click ‘flip or scripture’. The verse is accompanied by a song: a lovely gift from Trinity to the rest of us.
diverse forms
Friendship manifests itself in funny ways. Today:
- a dripping jogger, determined not to run through another week with out pinning me down to a time we could see each other
- someone who asked a difficult question and listened unflinchingly to a difficult answer (the opposite of the answer hoped for, I suspect)
- (most extraordinarily) someone who saw Mandelbrot’s obituary, and immediately sent word — having not yet seen my blog. There are few people in this world who know me well enough for that.
I sometimes get myself in trouble for saying that I don’t think priests should be friends with members of their congregation. When I am really brave, I also say that most relationships in church should not be friendship. Friendship is far too precious a thing to think that we can sustain it across hundreds of relationships, all at once.
Friendship demands time and commitment and a willingness to be ignored, hurt, and forgiven time and time again when one of you gets it wrong. It demands laughter, and perseverance, and trust at levels of our being that we’re not even sure we want to traverse, but learn face together. It demands holding on, even when you profoundly disagree.
And of course, a lot of those things are also a part of the relationships we build in churches. I hope that there will be real friendships in church — that everyone in a congregation will find someone, or hopefully several people, with whom they can build deep friendships. But there are other sorts of relationships too.
I may have said this before. (I have a feeling I have said this before.) When I think of some of the relationships I have most valued in church, I have valued them precisely because they were other-than-friendship. We didn’t try to share all of our lives, get to know each other’s significant people, or expect that the other would always be there. We just focused on something shared: a ten year conversation about prayer; a six month exploration of the enneagram; a vision for the church that we were both figuring out, that we could shape and sustain together; the experience of someone we loved coming out; the conflicts between our growing sense of what God was calling us to and what others might have expected of us.
By not aiming for breadth, some of these church relationships reach a remarkable depth. There is genuine love and affection, care and concern. Companionship and conviviality too.
But for me friendship is other; and that may make my definition of friendship somewhat odd.
And I will even concede that we all make exceptions. When both understand the need for boundaries and are willing to keep switching hats, there can be a fair deal of creativity in defining the nature of a relationship.
But today, I wish to keep the distinction: for the sake of the wet jogger, the brave questioner, the kind minder of my strange idiosyncrasies. Friends indeed.
wonderful exchange 