Uproot

Uproot

Being pulled up gently

Like a tender sapling

Disturbing the soil

Shaking it loose

Each tendril

claiming its own space

before being replanted lovingly elsewhere

to bloom and to grow 

knowing the nourishment of good soil

and the nurture

of caring and competent hands.

OR

Being ripped out of the earth

Pulled violently

from a place of deep longing

Broken apart

with no way back

Uprooting comes in many ways

For some an every day occurrence

accepted as a part of existence

For others, a fiercely resisted intrusion

that wreaks havoc

And yet uprooting 

always carries the potential

Of life and growth

however it comes to us. 

Relinquishing shepherd hood

Ruth Everhart, teaching on Pilgrimage said: "So much of what we do is about shepherding other people's spiritual experiences." And she asked: "What is it you do to reclaim your spiritual authenticity?"(or something along those lines.)

I began to think, firstly, of some of the physical ways I would attempt to remove myself from being in pastor mode. I have a T shirt I love to wear which bears the question: "Ask me if I care?" That serves to remind me that, at this moment, in this setting I am not the pastor. I am not the one called to be the carer. It is a T shirt for time off.

If physically possible, I head to the beach and can usually find a spot with no other human company. Then it's just me and God. The wind and the waves and the beauty of the scenery conspire to renew my energy and to draw me to something other than my bone crushing weariness. My senses are tantalised. I breathe deeply, deeper than I have for some time and, even though this beach pilgrimage is a fairly regular occurrence, I'm always surprised to discover in it, the presence of God. When I move out of God's way, God materialises, sitting alongside me on the beach, walking next to me at the water's edge, blowing around me, messing my hair and placing the tang of salt on my lips. And in those moments I am reminded that God cares for me too. The God I work hard to reveal to others is revealed to me in those sacred moments. That shift in perspective is surely pilgrimage.

Down the Line

One of our number was delayed yesterday enroute from England to Scotland to participate in a Continuing Education Event by an incident on the Railway Line.

I found it difficult to embark on the Conference until I'd taken some time to reflect on/pray about this:

Sitting on the train

On a journey

Destination determined

Perhaps musing on events before the journey started

Or anticipating what is to come

An announcement is made:

"There's been a fatality on the line."

Inconvenient - to say the least.

Inconvenient for me

delaying my arrival 

Inconvenient for those with whom I am meeting

pushing back the start of a carefully planned programme

Inconvenient for train crews

those on either side of "the blockage"

Inconvenient for those whose task it is to schedule

arrivals and departures

and rolling stock

being in the right place

at the right time.

But much more than inconvenient

for family members

whose loved one has died

and who will never know

why that was the time and place and method chosen.

Much more than inconvenient for a community

saddened and shocked as the news travels through.

Much more than inconvenient for emergency crews

responding to a call

and becoming embroiled in trauma.

Way down the line

the effects roll out 

connections are made

and humanity

knows itself embroiled

in the drama of life

united in fragility

and vulnerability

and in being mortal.

There's a woman in the pulpit

Every single day, ministry brings incredible challenges and opportunities. It embraces the sublime and the ridiculous. It is a vocation liberally peppered with poignancy, confidences and stories. Many of these stories deserve to be shared. "There's a woman in the pulpit" is a book full of such stories contributed by clergy women who are members of RevGalBlogPals, a supportive network for women serving, seeking or discerning a call to ministry. These are stories laced with sadness and joy, with honesty,,openness and a great deal of humour.
RevGalBlogPals started in 2005 as a handful of women clergy reached out to one another through their blogs offering prayerful and practical support. The community has grown exponentially as word spread and, as well as daily blog posts, the community now also supports a Facebook Group of almost 3000 members, where posts are moderated to ensure that a safe and supportive space is maintained, along with Twitter and Tumblr accounts. Honesty,humility and humour underpin much of the work undertaken as RevGals and pals support each other through life and ministry. Rev Martha Spong is the Director of RevGals and editor of the book. RevGalBlogPals demonstrates how virtual community can be real. There's a Woman in the Pulpit is testimony to that.

Risen indeed!

Matthew 28:5-8

But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

The sanctuary is prepared

to greet another Easter dawn

The white cloths

The flowers 

All is quiet

Just waiting on the congregation to arrive

And the service to get underway

So that we can proclaim

Christ is risen

He is risen indeed!

Those who utter those words of life

utter them with varying levels of conviction

with varying levels of need.

For some, there is no hesitation

Words spoken with joy 

For others, they are spoken through gritted teeth

The grit of hope 

The hope that God enters

all the tombs that feature in our lives

However we greet this Easter dawn

in sorrow or in triumph

the Risen Christ meets us

and goes ahead of us

fulfilling our hopes

fulfilling our need

Affirming time after time

that love is stronger than death

And in every darkness

God walks beside us

breathing life.

Christ is risen

He is risen indeed.

Laid in the tomb

Matthew 27:57-61

The Burial of Jesus

When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was also a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.

Laid in the tomb

The hopes and dreams of a nation

Laid in the tomb

That bitter taste of disappointment

Laid in the tomb

The stories, the promises, now meaningless words

All replaced with a grief filled silence

And in that silence

rudderless folk

who had desperately wished

for a different outcome

scattered to lick their wounds

not even far enough along to wonder

What next?

They sat with their grief 

and bitterness and disappointment

in silence

as all that they loved

was laid in the tomb.

In the shadows

Matthew 27:45-46

The Death of Jesus

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

The shadows lengthen

And in them crouches Judas, the betrayer

And Peter the denier

And Thomas the doubter

And Mary the anointer

And Simon the cross bearer

And Pilate washing his hands 

And Barabbas, a freed man

And the soldiers casting lots

And the women quietly crying

And Joseph, preparing the tomb

All with bit parts in the unfolding drama

Of the death of Jesus

And the breaking of the heart of God

With friends...

Matthew 26:31

Peter’s Denial Foretold

Then Jesus said to them, “You will all become deserters because of me this night; for it is written,

‘I will strike the shepherd,

and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’

Celebrating the Passover with friends

Taking time out in an upper room

Caring for their tired and weary bodies

with water, wine and bread.

Then, stories shared and hunger sated,

going into the garden in the cool of the night to pray.

Going into the garden 

where betrayal and arrest awaited him.

And one by one, the friends disappeared

slinking into the night

watching form a distance

feeling the hurt and betrayal

but powerless to change it.

And the Son of God

who removed his robe to serve his friends

was left exposed and abandoned

on the night before his death

as the light burned dimly

just before dawn.

Who is this?

Matthew 21:10

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?”

Riding a donkey into the city

Clearing the temple

Cursing the fig tree

Dining with friends

Telling stories 

Being anointed with precious ointment

Trying to keep a low profile

Constantly glancing over his shoulder 

To see if his time had come

Lengthening shadows

And gathering clouds

Time's running out

And the question remains:

Who is this?