Voy a irme a Ecuador..!

Here is my ‘Vicar’s Letter’ for the August edition of Alderholt Parish News. I hope its title is grammatical and so not too glaring an admission of my far from fluent Spanish. It means simply:

      I am going to Ecuador..!

I have booked my flights and will spend part of September and October there, as part of three months’ sabbatical leave from parish duties here in Alderholt.

 

I was ordained 32 years ago and have spent most of them here as Vicar. I’m still trying to get the hang of it. There’s always plenty to do and sometimes it seems as if the whole world (of human joys and suffering) is contained in Alderholt, as I presume it is in every community. I have conducted funerals for young and old, some of those services full of thanksgiving, some full of raw grief. I have baptised a couple of generations, and married some of those I Christened as babes. I have prayed with the sick and the dying. I have planned, or blundered, my way through the busy yearly cycle of church and community life. I have led services with a handful of people and some with standing room only and I have spent many, many hours each week alone (or perhaps not so alone) sitting in Church, waiting for the silence to speak of a presence beyond words.

 

However, I am also a priest in a world-wide Church that includes a huge diversity of cultures and contexts. Learning Spanish these past 10 years or so has helped remind me of that wider world and these coming weeks away will be a precious gift, an opportunity to encounter and learn from a different place and people.

 

My contact in Ecuador is José. I met him and his wife, Mercedes, in 2006 in Spain, where they went to find work. They returned to their home country a few years ago and Jose is now ordained in the Anglican Church there. His church of San José Obrero (St Joseph the Worker) is one of two Anglican churches in the city of Manta, exercising a very active and supportive ministry among the poor communities around. The city is very close to the epicentre of a devastating earthquake that struck earlier in the year. As a consequence, in addition to the hundreds who were killed or injured, many are living in homes that are dangerous (and would be demolished if there was any alternative), while many jobs have been lost by damage to factories and other economic effects of the disaster. José and his colleagues are supporting all those affected and one of their churches also provides free medical care that has been gratefully received by queues of local people. Meanwhile, with few resources but with loads of cheerfulness and optimism their congregations are literally re-building the communal facilities around them.

 

José and Mercedes came to visit us in Alderholt a few years ago before their return to Ecuador and they felt a rapport among all whom they met here. Now I shall return the visit and I hope I can convey encouragement, lend a hand wherever possible – and, most of all, learn afresh what it means to be a follower of Jesus who cares for the poor.

(the photo above shows Mercedes and José flanking Michael Curry, the ‘Presiding Bishop’ of the US Episcopal Church during a visit he made to support their work following April’s earthquake)

I shall be paying my own way, and expenses, but I would love to take a gift to support the work the churches are doing there. I have opened a ‘Just Giving’ page (search on the Just Giving site for Pip Martin Ecuador or follow this link: https://crowdfunding.justgiving.com/pip-martin) or any donations can be paid (or ‘Gift Aided’) to St James’ Church but marked for Ecuador. I will be undertaking a long walk (of about 150 miles) later in August and so you can think of any gift as sponsorship if that helps. To any such who give their support I will be glad to send a postcard-sketch by way of thanks: so please make sure I have your address!

 

Most of all, I ask your prayers and I assure you of mine. May God bless and support us all amid the – literal or figurative – earthquakes in our world and in our lives.

 

With love, Vicar Philip

A penny for your thoughts…

On 24th June, many were exultant and many were dismayed. The weeks following have been bewildering for all. I would like to offer a way for people to meet together and explore positive ways forward. I guess I was thinking first of all of ‘the 48%’ who voted to Remain, but in fact I sense that distinction is already losing its relevance. Many who voted to Leave the EU (and are glad about the result) will share some of the concerns I sketch below. Whether there is really any appetite for such a meeting at this time, I am not sure and will be glad of any feedback, either here or via Facebook or by phone! So…

After the referendum, a penny for your thoughts…

 

In my sermon on the Sunday following the EU Referendum I remarked: In the few days since, the arguments have continued. We are witnessing a confused and divided government as it rightly seeks to present a semblance of business as usual. The opposition, previously weak, threatens to implode in bitter division. Scotland considers a further referendum on independence. Perhaps most concerning, divisions have emerged between people that we had not noticed so painfully before. We are more aware now of what we should have noticed much more keenly a long time ago: the desperation of those who are condemned to a fairly unchanging prospect of poverty. We are more aware now of some very different reactions to immigration – and to immigrants. We are more aware of regional and generational differences in our country. Painfully, too, we are more aware of differences of outlook among ourselves…

 

Those painful differences are felt in every workplace, association and home, amongst families and friends – and several weeks later are still evident on Facebook!

 

I would like to find a way to meet and discuss with others a positive way forward. I take as a possible starting point the following aims that many of us (including many who voted to Leave) would agree are important as we seek a way forward for our country and for our local communities. They are aims that have been sharpened in focus as a result of the Referendum debate (and the abuse and misinformation that marred that debate.)

 

1. Whatever exact form Brexit takes, to maintain and develop the closest possible links with our European neighbours.
2. To work for greater equality in our society. The referendum has highlighted the sense of alienation felt in many areas of our country, including some that are most anxious about the perceived threats posed by immigration.
3. Along with the wish to support those areas with high immigration, to refuse adamantly not just racism but any policies or language that identify immigrants as a ‘problem’.
4. To work towards constitutional change to enhance our democracy (eg a strengthened ‘second chamber’ in parliament; re-consideration of Proportional Representation to give greater voice to minority parties; consideration of the appropriate use of referendums; and of course a more coherent plan for regional devolution along with (we can only hope) a continued United Kingdom.
5. To sustain environmental policies that will continue the positive changes that have been fostered by our membership of the EU.

 

What I propose is to hold an open meeting for all who are worried by the decision to Leave but also those who may have voted to Leave but are worried by some aspects of a possible ‘Brexit agenda.’. At the meeting there will be a chance to reflect on the lessons of the Referendum; to consider sensibly and honestly the reasons for the outcome; and to think about positive ways forward.

 

The outcomes of the meeting might be:

• To give mutual support that is more real and more fun than Facebook
• To better understand the lessons of Brexit
• To encourage all of us as we seek through this crisis a more progressive, open, welcoming, egalitarian – and European – Britain
• To help us see to what extent our political concerns can be met by any of the existing parties – or a new alliance between some of them.

 

I have arranged a panel for Thursday evening 1^st September comprising our MP, Simon Hoare, along with representatives of the Lib Dems, Green and Labour parties. But more important will be the participation of ordinary people who, following the result of the referendum and the rapid political meltdown that has followed, feel concerned but also determined that the Britain we help form will be more open, more equal, more tolerant and more European.

Let me know whether you think such a meeting is a good idea, or not worth the bother!

Baghdad by Moonlight

The publication of the Chilcot Report on the Iraq invasion and its aftermath brings a strange, disquieting memory of politicians and popular newspapers encouraging a stampede towards a reckless and irrevocable outcome. I remember too the discomfort I felt then, strongly at variance with the rush to war, yet sympathetic towards the burdens of responsibility that those in leadership had to carry. So today I uncovered my Vicar´s Letter of the time, composed in the early hours as, far away, the first bombs dropped on Baghdad…

Alderholt Parish News                 April 2003

Dear Friends,

As I write this, late in the evening of Wednesday, 19^th March, the ‘village lantern’ bathes the garden in pale, cold light. It is full moon. I realise now that the military planners will have decided on these particular days to launch their attack: for the same moon, more effective than any sophisticated night-vision aids, shines also across the Kuwait and Iraq deserts.

 

It seems our leaders did not really intend, or expect, that UN inspections could ‘work’. Invasion of Iraq has been planned and intended with a logic that must be undeniable to them. Perhaps, indeed, they do know best: better than the UN. Perhaps they do know best, and time will tell. But on this clear, cold night, when the constellation of Orion the Hunter is slipping out of sight for the summer, I feel bewildered, unsettled and, somehow, ashamed. Not, I should say, ashamed to be British…rather, I think I feel ashamed of our humanity, my humanity: ashamed at the apparent inexorability and inevitability of violence and despair that have as their fruit war between men but have their origin in the war within the heart of man.

 

It’s now late at night. The news broadcasts will be solemn-voiced. But I do not want to hear them. The TV reporter will stand on his hotel balcony and show us the beautiful red and blue-white tracery of missiles carving their hit-and-miss trajectories across the sky. But I do not want to see them. The President and Prime Minister will have their carefully prepared words. But I do not wish to be addressed. Instead, I would rather pray: for Tony Blair, George Bush, Saddam Hussein, for our armed forces and their families, for those of Iraq and its population, for Christians and Muslims everywhere. And, because I know my need better than I know any of theirs, I should pray too for myself, that I may learn to repent and turn to God and care about others more than I do.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

The next full moon will be that which each year precedes the festival of Easter. The cold light of the moon presages a warmer, wondrous light that floods from the unlikely source of a grave that is burst open. Can such a light overcome, still, the darkness that we occupy? Can it?

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

It’s now almost midnight and time for sleep, but first I will cross the moon-lit garden and pray in the Church and read some psalms:

Tell it out that the Lord is King: and that it is he who hath made the round world so fast that it cannot be moved; and how that he shall judge the people righteously.

For he cometh, for he cometh to judge the earth: and with righteousness to judge the world, and the people with his truth.

The sanctuary lamp in Church, which flickers with its hopeful light throughout each day, will by now be extinguished. But I believe a light still shines…

 

Yours ever,

Vicar Philip

 

St. James’ Church remains, as always, open throughout each day as a place where prayers for peace in our dis-united world can be offered.

The Secret Garden

Below is the text (more or less) of my sermon for St Thomas’ Day at Parish Communion at St James’ Church, Sunday 3rd July 2015.

 

 

The Secret Garden

Every sermon is the product of many different factors, or pressures, pushing and pulling, from outside and from within the person who preaches. Of course, the readings that are set for the day are every preacher’s first and most important resource. Beyond that, however, conversations, experiences (remote or very recent), politics, things seen or heard, and people, people especially, all have a bearing and give rise to what is always a shared event, the sermon.

 

While I pondered the readings for St Thomas’ Day, I re-read some emails recently exchanged with a friend currently in hospital and enduring a particularly debilitating stage of her treatment for cancer.

 

She writes, ‘I’m sitting up in bed wearing ear plugs against the shouting of a disturbed woman further up the corridor. I’m trying to pray for her. ‘Father, please bring calm into this woman’s heart and peace that she might know your love.’’ I hear compassion under trial in that prayer.

 

She also writes – honestly and amusingly – of the importance for someone in her predicament of a successful visit to the loo. She quotes a poem-prayer written for her by a friend, asking the ‘God of all natural processes, stomach enzymes and humble digestive bacteria, the God of all that is smelly, unloved and despised’ to look kindly on this his friend. ‘Bless all her moments of motion and stillness, internal and external…and grant her to rejoice again in all the glorious functions, sounds and smells of a healthy body.’ Now that I call shockingly good incarnational theology, a faithful calling of God’s bluff (the only way to discover he wasn’t bluffing): that through Jesus, all of our human experience becomes the vehicle of grace.

 

She expresses a heart-felt desire not so much to be well (the prognosis is one of palliative rather than restorative care) as to be whole: ‘Please tell me’, she writes, ‘what you know of our Lord. I’m trying to get to know him better. When did you first meet him? What pointers would you give to someone wanting to follow him?’

 

My friend – in circumstances that for many of us would be all-consuming, preventing us thinking beyond ourselves – also expressed her conviction that suffering comes to us all, though taking many and different forms. We are all, she reflects, struggling with things that test our faith…

 

In these circumstances I think that St Thomas, whose feast we commemorate today, is a spokesperson for all of us. Known as ‘Doubting Thomas’, perhaps we should think of him more as ‘Honest Thomas.’ He who evinced such a strong, passionate, youthful faith in Jesus that he said ‘Let us follow you so that we might die with you’ will not allow himself to hope second hand. He must know that Jesus is risen and real and not just a fond imagining.

 

Thomas’ trial of faith lasted 8 days, before he was surprised by the joy of Our Lord’s wounded embrace. Our own times of darkness and doubt may be 8 minutes or 8 years or 80. There are many – in Christian history and in the Bible – whose lives are powerful witnesses to the reality of the Gospel of love but who themselves felt – for long periods – cut apart and adrift from that same God. Mother Theresa’s testimony was expressed in her dedication to prayer, and to the poorest among the poor in Calcutta – yet her last decades were (we now know) clouded by a sense of God’s absence. Pope John Paul ll likewise experienced similar things in his later years. The writer of the Psalms – popularly and perhaps rightly supposed to be King David – expresses there both the joy and thankfulness, but also the anguish and emptiness, of one who seeks God and who recognises his own reality: ‘I am so fast in prison that I cannot get forth.’ Such as these may not speak for you at present but they speak for many – and especially at certain times of our Christian pilgrimage.

 

How are we to live during such times when our faith is strained and seems unreal, or empty, or meaningless?

 

I think, first, we should at such times all the more hold to the outward practices of our faith, hard though it is to do so when the spirit – and the fun – seem to have departed. So continue coming to church, read your Bible even if you wonder why you do, and receive the sacrament of Communion. We need to maintain the dry and dusty channels so that when the rain comes it may flow to where we long for their refreshment.

 

Secondly, be honest with God. Tell him how it is. Take the Psalms as your model here. Joy and dancing are welcomed by our Lord. So are lament and complaint.  He knew the deal when he offered to be with us and for us always. He knew that would mean getting an earful from us at times. Take God at his word. Call his bluff and discover he wasn’t bluffing after all. He himself cried to the Father in desolation from the cross, ‘Why have you forgotten me?’ so we have a precedent.

 

Thirdly, practise compassion and kindness wherever and however you can, Pray for that moaning woman in the night. As St Theresa said: ‘When you love, others will say you have false motives and are insincere and will reject you. Love anyway…’

 

During such periods of our life, it must be said however, we must go deep into resources that we fear we do not possess. A small group of us from St James’ spent yesterday at Hilfield Friary. It is hidden in a remote and beautiful part of Dorset. Its small number of Franciscan Friars is now complemented by an extended community of single and married people, and some delightful if slightly feral children. It is a place of much laughter, hard work, prayer and striving to lead a sustainable but still realistic Christian lifestyle. Among their 17 or so acres there is a Secret Garden. It is a natural cleft in the ground, damp and dark beneath a canopy of trees. It has been mysteriously developed by Br Vincent. Its rare collection of shrubs and plants is rather overgrown and nibbled by deer (to discourage or perhaps amuse which Vincent drapes all kinds of twine and ribbon amid the foliage.) I think we too must discover and develop within ourselves a secret garden, cut deep by the action of God in us, in which – no matter what storms blow above and no matter how overgrown and nibbled our soul space be – we can find a place of shelter and honesty and rest and truth.

 

 

Well they say – with some authority – that Thomas went on to convey the generous, life-giving Gospel in India where a very ancient branch of the church remembers him as their founder. His doubting was precursor to commitment. If our own faith too is to be generous and life-giving there can be no short-circuiting of similar honesty and – often enough – some painful, demoralising periods of doubt or darkness.

 

Whatever our present faith, or its lack, may we continue in the practising of our faith, may we be honest to God, and may we practise compassion and kindness wherever and however we can.