Reflections Blog

Dear Friends,

As some of you may know I had an unexpected minor stroke at the end of May.  A sudden choking led to a total loss of speech and a rather dramatic trip down the A1M to Lister Hospital, complete with flashing lights, etc.  At the time of writing the future looks positive but I have to learn how to speak clearly again; I also have to think more about life in general and how to use my time properly.

The treatment I received was beyond praise.  The ambulance came quickly, the doctors could not have been better.  But above all I was amazed by the professionalism, the energy and especially the caring of the nurses in Pirton Ward where I was a patient for 16 long days.  It also greatly impressed my daughter Liz who is a hospital sister elsewhere and who is one of the most dedicated nurses in the profession.  Thanks to them and to the support and prayers from Judy and myself I can write this column, hopefully with more to come.

Patience is not my strong point and 16 days is a very long time when you are looking at the ceiling and having more injections for more reasons than in the rest of your life put together.  Two passages from the Bible kept recurring as the hours passed.

The first was the conversion of my namesake.  Paul was a man who was always rushing around until he was forced to stop dead by what might be interpreted as being struck by lightning.  He had to think about life because there was nothing else to do - this is my interpretation of his conversion.  'What is life if full of care we have no time to stop and stare?' wrote the poet W.H. Davies.  Sometimes it's good to stop and think about what really matters, about priorities, about values and aspirations, about life in general.  I wouldn't recommend having a stroke as a way of having to do this but it was brought home to me and I would commend such ponderings to you.

The other passage in my mind was the Washing of the Disciples' Feet in the Upper Room.  Jesus was giving service to those who were closest to His followers, but Peter could not accept this.  ‘YOU Lord washing MY feet?’  He says with incredulity.  He would gladly have washed the feet and given service to others; his difficulty lay in receiving service from them.  It is far easier to care than to be cared for.

It reminded me of my last trip to hospital (a 3 week enforced rest after overworking in 1976).  I tried naively to help the other patients who were deeply troubled, but I had to be reminded by one of them that I was in as much need of help as they were.

This has been a really humbling experience and in these past days as I watched the amazing nurses quietly caring so lovingly and unobtrusively for me; they were giving and I needed them.  At times we have to take, no matter how difficult it is - as someone once said to me, 'You can't give what you haven't already got'.  Sometimes it needs a blank ceiling and nothing to do to make us face up to issues like this.

So thanks to Ginni and to so many people who have been wonderfully kind and supporting in what has been an interesting experience that I would prefer not to repeat.  Hopefully Judy and I will be back at the church soon - the sooner the better!

        Warmest good wishes, Paul

Pasta had not been invented.

“Kebab” was not even a word, never mind a food.

A take-away was a mathematical problem.

A pizza was something to do with a leaning tower.

Oil was for lubricating your bike chain not for cooking.

Olive oil was kept in the medicine cabinet.

Spice went in Christmas Cakes (and so did peel).

Herbs were used to make medicine - I think!

All crisps were plain.

All soft drinks were called pop.

Rice was a milk pudding, and never, ever, part of our dinner.

A Big Mac was what we wore when it was raining.

Figs and Dates appeared every Christmas, but no one ever ate them.

Coconuts only appeared when the fair came to town.

Dinner consisted of what we were given and not negotiable.

Leftovers went in the dog.

Only Heinz made Baked Beans.

Sauce was only brown or red.

Eating raw fish was called madness, not Sushi.

The only ready meals came from the fish and chip shop.

Frozen food was called ice cream.

None of us had ever heard of yoghurt.

Brunch was not a meal.

Cheese only ever came in a hard lump. 

Eating outside was called a picnic not Al Fresco.

Seaweed was not a recognised food.

Eggs were not called ‘free range’ they just were, and the shells were white.

Pancakes were only eaten on Pancake Tuesday - it was compulsory.

The term ‘oven chips’ would not have made sense at all.

Prunes were purely medicinal.

Pineapples only came in chunks in a tin.

Garlic was used to ward off vampires in films, but never to be eaten.

When I read the above it made me smile and brought back other memories from that era.  It also made me realise how far we have come in so many ways......

Clare Reid

LOOKING BACK - LOOKING FORWARD

I shall refrain from writing directly about the Jubilee, albeit with reluctance.  Since it takes place at the start of the month it will be in the past after a few days and we will look back on it rather than forward towards it.  June for me means summer and my favourite month - apart from those irritating examinations at school and university that were the bane of my life.  And in June we start those endless Sundays after Trinity.

>Someone once came up with the idea of replacing Sundays after Trinity with Sundays after Pentecost but fortunately it never caught on.  In a sense it was a good idea.  Pentecost speaks of power and life, of creation and re-creation.  Trinity speaks of incomprehensible theology and deadness ('Firmly I believe and truly God is Three and God is One' - try working that out and weep at its impossibility).  And yet there is something timeless about it.  Once Trinity Sunday is over there are these twenty plus weeks that go through the summer and into autumn until the first frosts start to encroach.  Trinity reminds me less of theology and more of my boyhood in the village near Gloucester where my father was Rector.  I was brought up in the vast ancient rectory, walking the dog in the fields, sitting under trees, watching the farm at the end of our lane or wandering for miles in neighbouring villages on my bicycle - summer seemed never ending.  Then there was Geoff Green the organist playing Bach after the services as though he were playing to thousands in a great concert hall rather than to the forty or fifty in a village - it began my love of that music that will never die.  Quedgeley is now a vast housing estate but in those days it seemed an enormous rural playground (we left in 1961 and I have vowed never to return to see how it is now).  All that remains of those heady days is memories and a road named after my father long after we had gone and the developers had wrecked the area. 

Some of us may look back in this vein in the past with similar nostalgia, especially about the Church as it once was.  It may also leave us with a certain apprehension about how organised religion is developing and how it is viewed.  The past 70 years have seen enormous changes in the Church of England.  A lot of it has been positive but I am not sure that it has all been gain.  We are constantly being told of the threats that confront us. Yet there is so much energy, so much positiveness in Church life today, in spite of these threats and especially the decline in numbers.  We must be positive and remain positive.

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When I was appointed in 1974 to my first Vicarage in darkest Accrington (of Stanley fame - the place exists beyond a football team!) my Rural Dean gave me two pieces of advice which apply not only to individual clergy but to anyone who cares about the Church and its members.  The first was to pray at the start of each day that I should have my priorities right.  The other was that faithfulness was more important than results.  I have never forgotten and have tried to live by them throughout my ministry.  But the advice is as timeless as it was when a young queen ascended to the throne 71 years ago and when so many of us were young - and innocent! 

                                                                                          Paul Lanham

ASCENSION ?

Writing this at Eastertide reminds me of a scene in the film 'The Greatest Story Ever Told' (the one where John Wayne as the centurion at the crucifixion immortally drawls the words 'Truly this was the Son of God' as only he could).  The disciples have fled from the crucifixion and stand beside the Sea of Galilee.  A stone is thrown into the water and the ripples flow silently outwards in circles, graphically showing their sense of helpless despair and confusion.  It is memorable in its understatement.

May 2022 marks part of this six week period where the disciples seem to be in limbo.  Jesus was still alive but His ministry with them is clearly in transition;  we know so little of what happened in those days, but then at the Ascension Jesus parts from them (we mark it this year on Thursday 26^th May).  The way is then set for the gift of the Spirit at Pentecost and the start of all that follows.

We speak of Jesus in terms of ascending into heaven, just as we speak of Him rising again from the dead.  We use the word because we have no alternative.  Going up is the alternative to going downwards or sideways;  they are as much about the spirit of their direction as their physicality, the direction as much of why it took place as how it took place.  Just as Jesus physically died and rose again, so He left this earth physically in some way that we do not understand.  In both cases the meaning of the events speaks as well as what actually happened.

For us this represents a problem, summed up by the first astronaut, the good Communist Yuri Gagarin.  When he reached orbit it is said that he radioed that now he could prove that God did not exist because he had gone up and there was no heaven to be seen.  One of the problems lies in the conflict between religion and the way we are trained to think.  Everything today has to add up, to be rationalised, to be logical.  Religion however speaks of faith.  So we must convince the world of something that we cannot prove and cannot understand.  How could Christ (as God made man) physically die and physically rise again?  How could He leave this earth alive into that state which we call heaven (whatever that is)? April and May seem full of confusion and mystery and while it is arguably the most beautiful month of the year it is also perplexing for those who believe (or try to believe).

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Or is it?  During these warm summer months I may be found on our swing seat on a dark evening, gazing up into the sky - and pondering.  What lies beyond what I can see?  Does space go on for ever and if not what lies beyond it?  This to me is the start of an exploration into faith.  Because I cannot understand what lies beyond what I am looking at, it does not mean that it does not exist;  it tells me that my mind has human limitations.  It recognises that fact is not the answer to everything and we have to accept that such limitations exist.  My favourite passage of the Bible is the closing chapters of the Book of Job.  Job has been seeking answers to what has happened to Him with ever growing intensity.  Suddenly the Lord answers Job out of a whirlwind, claiming the right to be mysterious and not to answer Job's questions.  The book closes with Job finding peace in not having answers, that he must love and believe. 

                                                            With my very best wishes - Paul

LIGHT CONQUERS DARKNESS

Whenever I read St. John's account of the Last Supper I am struck by those words as Judas Iscariot leaves the room to betray Christ - 'And it was night'.  There can be so few words with so much meaning.  The darkness is physical but it is full of tragedy and menace.  There is the darkness of the disciples who feel the atmosphere of impending tragedy but cannot understand what is going on.  Then there is the darkness of Jesus facing Gethsemane - the realization of what lies ahead and how He can resist that ultimate temptation there before the final journey to Calvary.  Then there is the darkness of Judas Iscariot who I am sure is a far more complex figure than he appears in the Gospels.  'And it was night';  you can feel the dark evening air as the figure hurries out of the room, a robe around him, the moonlight casting eerie shadows.

If I am fascinated by Judas then I am also fascinated by the crowd in the days before the crucifixion.  We see them crying out for Jesus as King when He enters Jerusalem on a donkey - yet within a week they are baying for His blood.  If ever there were an example of mass hysteria this is it, but there is also evil reflected in their change of heart.  The priests achieve their evil ends by manipulating the mob but they need the mob - and the mob plays a part with the priests by forcing Pilate to condemn Christ.  They surely represent a hypocrisy that is breath-taking.  I know that this is an over-simplification of the events that week but it stares us in the face and makes the crowd as guilty as the priests and Pilate in what happened at Golgotha.  So to look at that period is to see both a tragedy but also a reflection of so much darkness, so much evil, so much of the image of fallen man.  The cumulative darkness and the cumulative evil become focussed on an innocent Man hanging from a cross, God made man.  It is indeed night in those 24 terrible hours.

And yet darkness is only darkness if it is seen in the context of light, for without darkness there cannot be light.  This is what April means in 2022.  For death is followed by resurrection and without resurrection there cannot first be crucifixion.  This theme is in the first few words of the Bible as light emerges from darkness, just as in the physical sense the dawn follows the night, and winter changes to spring.  At the heart of Christ's death and resurrection is the contrast between the two themes and the victory of the one over the other.  Light conquers darkness.  Healing binds up wounds.  Love overcomes hatred.  Life conquers death.  These things, what's more, are eternal, that love, light and life are all conquering, they will always reign.  This is what this month is all about.  This lies at the heart of the Easter message of hope. 

                                                Wishing you all a Happy Easter - Paul Lanham