Dust

The very first time I offered an Ash Wednesday service in a Church of Scotland, I waited in fear and trepidation for cries of horror or complaints or, at the very least, a rejection of the offer. But folk came. Perhaps out of curiosity or for the novelty factor but they came and they had ashes placed on their forehead during worship. And, in the years since, I have continued to conduct Ash Wednesday worship. It is one of the most moving services of the year: The opportunity to share in that Lenten ritual with folk with whom I have journeyed the rest of the year, through joy and sorrow, through hardship and triumph, in the intimacy of a simple act, is fellowship and community bound up in the sacred. And the thought of Christians throughout the world witnessing to their faith on Ash Wednesday, for me, brings a poignancy that cannot be matched on Easter Sunday with our celebrations of the resurrection.
Ash Wednesday feels much more like where its at for people - in the nitty gritty nub of living. Remembering that we are dust and to dust we shall return but ALSO turning from sin and living out the gospel. Both sides of that Ash Wednesday coin are at the crux of our faith. God gets down and dirty with people and spreads love - that IS good news. News we proclaim whether in the grey of ashes or the gold of resurrection.

Ash promise

The dark smudge on my forehead

feels dry and grainy.

Felt cool and damp as it was placed there.

Already it has changed

Remember you are dust

and to dust you shall return

Dry, sobering words

Very Scottish

Even Scottish Presbyterian

God forbid that any should forget

their humble beginnings

or equally humble, inevitable end

Summed up in a smudge of ash!

Sobering if that were all:

Remember that you are dust

and to dust you shall return.

But, there's more.

In those ashes

lies not just a salutary reminder

but an exhortation -

a call to turn from sin

and live out the gospel

an affirmation

that, from those humble beginnings,

we are called to great things

Turn from sin and live out the gospel

transforming the dirty smudge on my forehead

into an aspiration of service

changing its weight and import

into a sign of hope

that this ancient holy day ritual

still has import

In a world rushing on to the next thing

ashes become

symbols of love

carrying all the potential

to spread love

as the gospel is lived out

in ordinary people

in humble people

who don ashes

to change the world.

Liz Crumlish Lent 2012

Mardi Gras!

Having visited New Orleans recently, I've been looking forward even more to Mardi Gras this year - or Pancake or Shrove Tuesday here in Scotland, when all the flesh will be shriven! (or something like that) in preparation for Lent.
I've been trying to explain Lent to school children and that has given me an excuse to share the masks brought back from NOLA and lots of other interesting insights gleaned on that trip. Because, although Ash Wednesday is the start of Lent, Mardi Gras is just as important for ensuring that people are ready to observe Lent, by partying it up and then laying aside some of the excesses for the next 6 weeks. The colours of Mardi Gras, purple for justice, green for faith and gold for majesty and power are poignant symbols with which to enter Lent - justice, faith and power. I look forward to seeing how those play out as the tones of the festival die down, becoming a distant echo and as they weave their way in and around our Lenten observance. But, for today - Happy Mardi Gras!

A welcome return

I've had a ball the last month celebrating my 50th birthday. I've celebrated with different groups in different places, even in different parts of the world, also managing to raise £900 for charity in a celebration with the congregation. But one of the best birthday gifts came last week when I returned to work. I visited a lady who has just recently come to be part of our congregation. We had a nice time together. It was good to have a chance to talk with her and find out more about her and her family.
However, the next day she phoned me in a panic to enquire" was it you who visited me yesterday?" Apparently she'd been talking to a friend and had mentioned that the minister had visited and how young the minister was! Her friend, who is from another congregation in town, informed her that it couldn't have been her minister who visited because she had heard that I'd just celebrated my 50th birthday! The lady refused to believe that I was that age.
I reassured her that I had indeed visited and that I had just turned 50 but finished the call with a huge smile on my face. A great welcome back to work!

A slow burn for re-entry

The ship docks as the sun rises over Progresso in Mexico. It is a quiet ship at that time of the morning, just a few folk on the running track. The air is still, balmy, warm. A lovely time for reflection. One of the aims of this Continuing Ed is to write worship material for the season after Pentecost, so my head is filled with the texts, from Mark and John and, looking forward to the day ahead, the possibilities seem endless in this place where it is possible to be still and quiet, a place where the heat of the morning caresses and cajoles body, mind and spirit into wakefulness - far removed from the harsh Scottish winter left behind for a time. It is easy to imagine that, in such a climate, writing would be easier, creativity would be heightened but the reality is that we settle into whatever environment is our norm. We adapt, become restless and even yearn for the other, for the unknown. Such is our fickleness.
It was good and right and refreshing to be with the Revgals, constructing worship, enjoying fellowship, making connections, renewing friendships,creating networks, but what is life giving and life enhancing is when that experience pervades the routine of everyday back home in the grey dreichness of a Scottish winter as it percolates into springtime, whispering a reminder of newness and life, breathing the warmth of love shared and, preferably at inopportune moments, echoing the tinkling laughter shared with female colleagues who simply "get it". Such moments, such journeys shared, bring energy that enable survival in a harsher climate, a harshness created not just by the weather but by the calling to serve God in male dominated institutions in which the wiles of the Spirit are seldom given free rein for fear of upsetting order and propriety and in which the complementarity of" male and female as God created them" is seldom envisaged as a good thing but as a distraction from the real work of God. It takes a lot of energy to continue to be creative and inspired in such a climate, so, when the opportunity is available, one must enjoy the solidarity and drink deep from the well of affirmation. That time of building up has to be eked out, not rationed, but able to sustain for some time to come. So, as I leave behind my time of study leave and engage in the parish as we hurtle into Lent, I am giving thanks. Giving thanks, above all, for colleagues, male and female, who "get it". Giving thanks, right now for Revgals and Big Events!

Universal language

On every corner, it seemed, was another band, jamming for tips - just part of the magic of New Orleans. Just part of the magic of a people and a culture that understands the universality of music, a language that, with or without words, speaks volumes and crosses boundaries. And, in this city of resilience and tenacity, the music symbolises the heart of the people - embracing, hospitable, buoyant, unable to be quelled by external force, even the powerful forces of nature. A heart that reaches out and breathes an energetic beauty into living. A heart that exudes hope.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if such music and all to which it testifies were recognisable in the language of faith?
Three things last forever, faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love.
(1Corinthians 13)

Bridge builders

The sun rose over this bridge in New Orleans, signaling that it was time to leave the cruise ship aboard which we had been engaged in some Continuing Education with a bunch of clergy women and friends. The women came from many different places, from many different denominations, with many different degrees of experience and wisdom. Infectious exuberance lay alongside careworn weariness. Tired spirits were buoyed up by unbridled optimism. Those just embarking on ministry rubbed along with those already retired. Each brought enough to share and more and all feasted on a rich smorgasbord of imagination and creativity. There was respectful listening and careful holding of confidences shared. This reflects the roots of the group - a supportive online web ring for women in ministry - and their friends. That so many shades of theology and opinion and character and strength can meet and feel valued and heard is no mean feat. Engineered by the God of all life - with a little (lot of) help from the board of the Revgalblogpals. Thanks be to God.