The Marathon

I LOVE Holy Week. I even relish the long slog through Lent - much more than the craziness of Advent when we prepare for the Incarnation. Lent, Holy Week and Easter move me in a way that Christmas just doesn't.
MAybe that's because Advent and Christmas are done at breakneck speed. With Lent, Holy Week and Easter, there is a more leisurely lead in, time for reflection, time to savour each event and remembrance. Time to live the Incarnation. From the crib to the cross - and on to resurrection.
SO I look forward to the week beginning tomorrow with Palm Sunday, to celebrating a parade before we then tiptoe through the rest of the week, spectators, bystanders, witnesses to Christ's passion, participants in his death, beneficiaries of the resurrection. A marathon for preachers, one measured in blood, tears and agony but that promises a wonderful trophy at the end.
And so it begins...

Sharing the love

This has been a great week of school chaplaincy that has afforded access to all kinds of end of term activities, from coffee and hot cross buns to end of term services in primary and secondary schools.
Although the secondary pupils mostly stand mute in their services while members of the orchestra play their hearts out, they still bring a buzz to the church building, enhanced by this week's sunshine when a walk from school building to church is a welcome distraction.
In one of the primary school services, we bade farewell to a member of staff who has brought a lot of music into the life of the school and who is now moving on. She said that all the tributes and good wishes made her feel really loved. Hopefully, she experienced that love in her work and not just now as she takes her leave.
It is so important that we express appreciation for each other every day, that we let those around us know about the difference they make to our lives, especially when their influence is for the good. It is good to share the love.

Take, Eat

An Easter Communion invitation:

This is the table of the Risen Lord Jesus Christ

Behold his broken body  - the broken bread

Behold his spilled blood   - the poured wine

Behold his amazing love  - in the remembering and sharing here

These elements laid out before us

come to life as the Risen Christ strides along this table

strides through our lives,

strides through our towns and villages and communities

breathing hope

breathing forgiveness

breathing love that knows no bounds

Young and old

friend and stranger

pilgrim or resident alien

The Lord Jesus makes space for you at this table

offering nourishment

offering fellowship

offering communion with all the saints in heaven and on earth.

Take, Eat. To remember him.

Becoming like children

Becoming like children

We imagine Jesus riding into Jerusalem

surrounded by palm branch waving children

surrounded by exuberance

and infectious laughter

shouts of greeting

cajoling and cheering.

There is a freshness in the welcome of children

a candour that is not subdued

or diminished

but comes from the heart.

bringing warmth, promoting acceptance

with is no expectation of return

but simply a desire

to spread the love.

We imagine those greetings containing familiarity

arising not out of disrespect

but out of the ability

to naturally honour and cherish

every relationship

deeming all as worthy of nurture

and investment.

We imagine Jesus surrounded by children.

The adults would have been much too reserved,

too inhibited

to be so vulgar

in their welcome.

Palm branch waving

and jacket tossing

are not for sophisticated grown ups.

We leave that nonsense to the children.

And most of the time that’s OK.

Most of the time, we are quite relieved

to keep our feelings to ourselves

to remain tight lipped

cool and distant.

But, on occasion,

wouldn’t it be great

just to throw caution to the wind

and let our exuberance escape

even just for a little while?

And what better day than this fools day

when we celebrate the absurdity

of a king riding a donkey

into Jerusalem.

Palm Sunday – a day to become like children.

Liz Crumlish Palm Sunday 2012

Blessed

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

A cry taken up by ordinary folk

men, women, children

out lining the streets

looking for a spectacle

longing for a cause.

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

A cry to get behind

to celebrate

to champion

welcoming the rebel

on whom the hopes of a nation are pinned

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

A cry to imitate

when there is little else to do

and nowhere else to be

when it is easier

to go along with the crowd

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

A cry that echoes in emptiness

when enthusiasm wanes

and hope fades

when excitement moves aside

to make way for disillusionment

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

A cry that drifts away

on the tide of change

as the mood of the crowd

becomes blacker

and more dangerous

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

A cry that becomes mocking

as the people jeer

and change their tune

and Blessed

becomes Crucify!

Blessed is the one who comes in the Name of the Lord

Liz Crumlish Lent 2012

This day

Living in the moment is a recurring theme just now. And the unseasonably warm Scottish weather seems to be endorsing that. Chances are that, by the weekend, the weather will have reverted to the usual damp and chill for this time of year, so it is important to enjoy it while we can.
Many of us are programmed to always be on the lookout for our next challenge or goal for which to strive. And while complacency isn't terribly productive, there does  come a time when it is important to simply be - enjoying what is, appreciating what has been achieved, often through hard work, taking a breath before plunging in again. Maybe we will discover as we breathe that we are indeed in a good place and that is something we want to hold on to - negating the need or desire to dive in again.
This day is a good day and that's enough to be going on with.

We wish to see Jesus...

We wish to see Jesus

THAT was the moment Lord when it seemed to hit you

when you knew the game was up

We wish to see Jesus

Those strangers who came

rocked your boat

Confirmed you'd come too far

Reminded you that your fate was sealed

The word was out

and there was no escape.

We wish to see Jesus

the journey was nearly over

YOUR journey - to the cross.

We wish to see Jesus

So quietly, you get on with it

You walk right into their hands

give yourself up

to death.

THAT was the moment

when you went viral

And you've been viral ever since.

We wish to see Jesus.

‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24

The whole story

We have a beautiful wooded area just across from the church.
Today, the woods were filled with children's voices as they searched for Easter bunnies enjoying the warmth of the Spring day before returning to the church hall for brunch and crafts.
It was a delightful interlude in this long season of Lent.
But now it is time to get back to it - producing orders of service and liturgies in preparation for Passion.
As the noise of the children faded today though, I wondered: Are they now relegated until Easter? We shield them from the "nastiness" of the plot against Jesus and the depths of inhumanity displayed in Jesus' execution but happily share with them the joy of resurrection. Perhaps a child's perception and comprehension is more profound than many adults. Shielding them from reality does not tell the whole gospel of redemption in life, death and resurrection.

Squeezing it all in

Tonight I am pondering the mystery that is Lent. It is a long season of preparation. And I do feel prepared. There was considerable planning of services, lots of creative writing, consultation with and involvement of others. And yet now it feels just as hectic as Advent. In part, that is due to scheduling extra school end of term services - chaplaincy in 5 schools makes the last week of term pretty hectic. But it is also due to the deep desire to ensure that Lent and, in particular, Holy Week and Easter are observed well and that all the different observations, the liturgies, the visual presentations, the music and readings leave a lasting impression with all those who journey for all or part of the season. A friend remarked recently: you've done it enough times now, isn't it easy? The answer is no. That quest to keep on affording new and enlightening encounters with a God who loves us enough to die for us is relentless, calling for new understanding, new depth, new relationship. And, if that makes life a bit frenetic right now, that's a small price to pay to be able to stand at the foot of the cross and then be led onwards to the hope of Easter. There is glorious hope (and rest!) just around the corner.

Unseen witnesses

There is something quite wonderful about celebrating communion with a housebound member in their own home.
From the carefully laid white cloth, kept specially for that purpose, to the perching of the elements in a tiny space amidst the clutter, each occasion is unique. Some communicants like to get down to business right away, others to have a wee blether first, while still others have an afternoon tea tray all laid out to be unveiled after communion has been celebrated.
Today, as I shared with a lady in her 90s, it felt as though her living room was crowded out with that "cloud of unseen witnesses". Together with all the saints we feasted on God.

Praying without words

At our Lenten Spirituality workshop today, we considered praying without words. It was soothing to create and craft prayer using tactile media. My prayer was a prayer of gratitude - for the cross, for the love, for the world, for the fallen, all of whom are embraced by the God who "so loves the world". This is a discipline of prayer that I would love to revisit often.

Holy laughter

Had a fun night tonight entertaining a church guild with a few talented colleagues, one of whom was pointing out the irony it is that, in church, we usually sing the Old 100th in such a sombre way.
The words just call out for laughter:
All people that on earth do dwell
sing to the lord with cheerful voice
him serve with mirth his praise forth tell
come ye before him and rejoice.
Every line an incitement for merriment and yet we manage to make it thoroughly miserable.
It was wonderful to be with a group tonight and see and hear so much joyful praising of God.
I heard someone say recently that while laughter is good for you, gravity is on your side when you frown.
Even though it is Lent, let's defy gravity and indulge in some mirth.

Interpreted by love

Driftwood

washed up

left high and dry

but telling the story

of storms

and turbulence

of erosion

and carving out

weathered and worn

intriguing

brought to life

though organically dead

bleached and weathered

drawing speculation

and interpretation

but retaining mystery

for none can really know

the journey

whose ending

has culminated

in beauty.

None can know

but there is room

for gratitude.

And the cross that Jesus bore - 

did it take on another life?

Did it wash up on some other shore, 

bleached clean,

redeemed

hosting new life

and new possibility

and telling a whole other story?

Redeemed in cleansing water

released to recreate

another life giving story

a story of love.

Liz Crumlish Lent 2012

Carried in love

 “Woman, here is your son.”

(John 19:26)

Carried in love

in the womb of his mother

cradled in arms that were gentle

nurtured and loved

then released to life

set free to teach and to heal

And now, in the throes of death

filled with compassion

feeling the pain

of the woman who gave him life

the woman who trusted enough

to say Yes! to God’s plan

to say Yes! to a life

of worry and turmoil

the woman who bore

the son of God

and who now shared

the awful pain

of his death

Forgetting his own agony

and reaching out

to ease the pain

of the one

who carried him in love.

“Woman, here is your son”

Lifted up

Just as Moses lifted up the servant in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.
John 3:14
Lifted up - but not in a good way

lifted up - but not with any sense of glory

lifted up- in the last way we'd imagine

Lifted up - the Jesus way

meant an excruciating death

at the hands of those he thwarted

lifted up alongside real  criminals

lifted up on a cross

on a hillside

lifted up - for public execution.

Lifted up

displaying love

that is out of this world.
Lifted up
taking us to the heights
because he plumbed the depths of death
in love for us.

Daily examen

Through this day, O God

I saw you in the raindrops

slithering down the window pane.

You were playing hide and seek

in the swirls of mist

that hung around for the morning.

It was you who spoke

in the friendly, welcoming voices of school children

you, who challenged me

in their searching questions.

As I sat with the lady

bereaved of her husband

her soul mate for 56 years,

it was you who breathed comfort and love

and gently hinted at hope to come

when the time is right.

You were there as I shopped and cooked,

peering over my shoulder into the pans,

savouring the aroma of a family meal.

And, as I vacuumed

and scrubbed laminate flooring

you put a song in my heart

that escaped through my mouth.

There is nowhere O God

that you will not travel with us

Only our blindness

prevents us glimpsing you

always ready to weave your Spirit

in and around our lives

assuring us that we are beloved

longed for children

with whom God longs to spend time.

Thank you God

for this day.

Liz Crumlish Lent 2012

God, where are you?

One of the priests ministering to families caught up in the horrific bus crash in Switzerland this week posed the question: "Has God left us?" In that small village, with so many families affected and awaiting news, that seems a very pertinent question. And yet it is one that is rarely heard spoken aloud. And certainly not by clergy. Though we all speak regularly of the mystery and perhaps even the hiddenness of God - that invisible deity is not the one we want to rely on in our darkness or the "ever present help in any trouble" to whom we want to point when life is cruel.
As we travel through Lent, eventually to Holy Week and follow the passion of Christ, we journey alongside a man who also experienced the abandonment of God.
In the darkness, resurrection is too far away to see or think on but the knowledge of accompaniment on the journey, companionship in the struggle does make a difference. If we cannot bring hope then at least we can help with the crying. That, too is a task of ministry - a task of humanity.

Redemption

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

(Luke 23:43)

After forgiveness comes redemption

the one who proclaims forgiveness

also proclaims redemption

the one who know us

knows all that we are

forgives us

and embraces us

all the way to paradise

promising that we are not only forgiven

but loved and carried

all the way to eternal life

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Forgiveness

“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

(Luke 23:34)

Forgiveness, forgiveness

hoisted aloft

in agony

near death

and from his lips

come words of forgiveness

Of all the things he could have said

the litany of woes and sorrows he could have recited

the folk he might have railed at

the folk he might have cursed

But instead, he implores forgiveness

Hallelujah! What a Saviour!

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”

Those words are for you – and for me

Do you know it?

Dare you believe it?

Forgiven.

We are forgiven

By the one who hung on a cross and died

so that we might be forgiven.

THAT is forgiveness.

“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing”

Toe in the water

In the light of Jesus cleansing the temple - this week's gospel reading, we considered what would make folk feel welcome in worship.
What would encourage folk to put a toe in the water?
We can easily think of the discouragements - but what constitutes a welcome?
And how can we change the nature of those whose countenance is forbidding?
A work in progress.

In remembrance

Reposting this a year on from the Japanese quake:

God you are omnipotent

omnipresent

ineffable

and lots of other big words

that mean that you have power.

So where was your power

when the fault plates shifted

and the earth moved for hundreds of thousands 

of your people?

Where were you when

the ocean

took up the vibes

and swelled and raged

and attacked the land

with such force,

wiping out cities 

and towns and villages

sweeping the board clean 

like a child

who has fallen out with friends

and refuses to "play nice".

Where were you as folk fled for their lives

with no warning

and so many had nowhere to go?

And where are you now

as folk huddle in makeshift centres

or trawl the streets

looking in vain

for loved ones.

Or jump in alarm 

at the slightest shudder, 

living in fear

of the very real threat

of after shock.

All powerful God 

where are you?

As we look on in horror

safe but impotent

open our eyes O God

to see you

crouched and slouched 

with your suffering people

broken and battered

and washed up in the carnage.

Huddling with the lost

and the grieving

and the confused

and the hurting.

Cowering before the forces of nature

that may strike again

with the same savagery

and the same unpredictability.

Simply because

you are NOT a distant God

but a God who dwells with God's people

 suffering the ravages

that affect humanity.

And, when we despair

that you share our impotence

remind us

that we would have you

no other way

but wholly involved

with your creation.

All powerful God

too close for comfort.

 Liz Crumlish March 2011