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Autumn Liturgical resources for August, September and October including Ordinary Time and Harvest
Ruth Burgess
www.ionabooks.com
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Contents of book © individual contributors Compilation © 2021 Ruth Burgess First published 2021 by Wild Goose Publications Suite 9, Fairfield 1048 Govan Road, Glasgow G51 4XS, Scotland the publishing division of the Iona Community. Scottish Charity No. SC003794. Limited Company Reg. No. SC096243. ISBN 978-1-84952-796-5 Cover image © Beerlogoff | Dreamstime.com The publishers gratefully acknowledge the support of the Drummond Trust, 3 Pitt Terrace, Stirling FK8 2EY in producing this book. All rights reserved. Apart from the circumstances described below relating to non-commercial use, no part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including photocopying or any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher via PLSclear.com. Non-commercial use: The material in this book may be used non-commercially for worship and group work without written permission from the publisher. If photocopies of sections are made, please make full acknowledgement of the source, and report usage to CLA or other copyright organisation. Ruth Burgess has asserted her right in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this compilation and the individual contributors have asserted their rights to be identified as authors of their contributions. Overseas distribution Australia: Willow Connection Pty Ltd, Unit 4A, 3–9 Kenneth Road, Manly Vale, NSW 2093 New Zealand: Pleroma, Higginson Street, Otane 4170, Central Hawkes Bay Printed by Bell & Bain, Thornliebank, Glasgow ®
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Autumn
Contents Contents in detail Introduction
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Autumn in August Transfiguration
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Revised Common Lectionary readings in August Autumn in September Creation Time Harvest
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Saints and angels
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Revised Common Lectionary readings in September Apples and blackberries Autumn prayers Falling leaves
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179 189
Autumn in October
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Conkers, cones and acorns Autumn reflections
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223
Revised Common Lectionary readings in October Liturgies and prayers for special days Liturgies and prayers for ordinary days All Hallows’ Eve Autumn blessings
297 309
Sources and acknowledgements About the contributors Index of authors
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326
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253 277
241
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Autumn
Contents in detail Autumn in August
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Seasons 16 Memory juice 16 Swallows at Crianlarich 17 The layered hedge 18 The holiday month, 1950s 19 The bees and the beekeeper 19 Watching for shooting stars 22
Key to symbols
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What am I? 26 May we recognise 27 The between places 28 The numbers of our days 29 Cosmic Golgotha 30 Thin places (Matthew 17:1–9) 31 Frustration (Mark 9:14–32) 33
Biblical reflection Liturgy Song Story Sermon Script
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Reflection Poem Responsive prayer
Transfiguration
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Monologue Child-friendly
Revised Common Lectionary readings in August
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He was seventeen (Genesis 37:2b–36) 38 The signet (Genesis 41:37–57) 40 Wisdom or whatever? (1 Kings 2:10–12, 3:3–14) 42 Elijah at Horeb (1 Kings 19:1–18) 44 Elijah runs away (1 Kings 19:1–18) 46 Let us look to you (Psalm 34:1–10) 47 God is our shelter (Psalm 46) 48 You come to us (Matthew 14:22–33) 48 The leftovers (Matthew 15:21–28; Mark 7:24–30) 49 Tune us in (Matthew 15:21–28) 54 Send her away (Matthew 15:21–28, Mark 7:24–30) 55 I followed Jesus (Matthew 16:21–28) 56 You lift up (Luke 13:10–17) 57 Standing upright (Luke 13:10–17) 58 The woman at the well (John 4:5–32) 59
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Autumn
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Turn around (Acts 2:37–42) 61 U An exciting day (Acts 2:37–42) 62 A letter from James (James 1:19–27) 63 U A proverb from James (James 1:19–27) 65
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Autumn in September
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A dedication 68 Off to college (The blessing of the second son) 69 Changing cycles 71 A month of change 71 There is still life behind the curtains 72 Fungi 74 Letter to our house martins (Africa via air mail) 75 Martins in the sentry 75 Autumn Club for the over-fifties, every Tuesday, 3pm, in the Town Hall 76 Birling Beach 77 And breathe 78
Creation Time
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We praise you 82 God’s beauty in a boulder 82 A prayer for diverse creation 83 It’s a promise (Genesis 9:8–17) 84 The creatures were listening (Genesis 9:8–17) 85 When climate changes (Leviticus 25:1–17) 87 Autumn’s bounty (Luke 12:13–21) 88 Living as if the earth belonged to us (Psalm 146) 89 That story (John 6:5–14, Matthew 14:15–21) 90 What a great idea! 91 The great betrayal 92 Lament 94 Kyrie eleison 94 In the name of this earth and all its inhabitants (after reading Psalm 148) 96
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Autumn Harvest
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Blessings for Lammas 98 Lammas bread 99 Opening words for a Harvest service (Psalm 104) 99 A responsive prayer for a Harvest service 100 A just reward for their labour 101 In a village church, Siem Reap Province, Cambodia 102 Harvest song 103 Evocative 104 Prayer for a rich harvest 104 Around the supermarket 105 The gift of harvest 106 Generous God 106 Grapes 108 Loving God who made us all 109 Autumn is very good 110 The potato poem (Iona) 111 Tattie-picking 112 Thanks for spuds 113 Closing words for a Harvest service 113 Be the blessing 114
Saints and angels
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For Hildegard of Bingen 116 Ahead of your time 117 A feather on the breath of God 117 A celebration of angels (St Michael and All Angels) Thank you for pets (St Francis’ Day) 121 Cuthbert’s Isle 122 To the angels 123 Blane 125 The wonder and mystery of the angels 129 A litany of Celtic saints 130
Revised Common Lectionary readings in September
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We never moan (Exodus 16) 134 How come? (Exodus 20:1–20) 136
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Autumn
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God of the bended and low (Psalm 71:2) 136 The little-known story of Jonah and the worm (Jonah 4:1–11) 138 Sweet Wisdom (Wisdom of Solomon 7:26–8:1) 140 We want to be worldly-wise (Wisdom of Solomon 7:26–8:1) 141 The rules (Matthew 18:15–20) 141 Settling an argument (Matthew 18:15–20) 143 Is there a problem? (Matthew 18:15–20) 145 Do me a favour (Matthew 18:21–35) 148 How many times? (Matthew 18:21–35) 151 Standing, waiting (Matthew 20:1–16) 154 Bickering brothers (Matthew 21:28–32) 156 Grandad’s garden (Matthew 21:28–32) 157 Questions, questions (Mark 8:27–38) 159 Fred and Lazarus and Father Abraham (Luke 16:19–31) 160 In memory of Pau (Luke 16:19–31) 163 Mum meets Patrick (Luke 16:19–31) 166 Syntyche’s long-standing feud (Philippians 2:1–5,4:2–3) 168
Apples and blackberries
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Brambles 172 Autumn mislaid 172 On not picking blackberries 174 Careful now 174 Feasting on blackberries 175 Apple of my eye 176 Blackberry and apple pie 177
Autumn prayers
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As leaves swirl 180 God of autumn and change 180 The stars are singing 181 You are there 182 Even as our year is ebbing 183 The gifts of autumn 183 When the football season starts … 184 An autumn sending 185 A prayer for the closing of a village church
Key to symbols
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Prayer Biblical reflection Liturgy Song Story Script
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Reflection Poem Responsive prayer
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Monologue Child-friendly
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Autumn
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God of all seasons 186 Spirit of change 187
Falling leaves
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The first leaf falling 190 The crunchy leaves of autumn 190 Tree of life 191 The season of letting go 192 Come unto me, and rest 193 May I delight 194 Leaf fall 194 Days are shortening 195 Nature’s way 196 The falling 197 Surprise autumn 199
Autumn in October
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Autumn haiku 202 A gardener prepares for winter First frost 203 The fog 204 Autumn on Iona 205 Geese 206 The pond 206 Autumn alchemy 207 Western knitter 208 Autumnal stillness 209 Argyll October 210 Autumn arrives 210 Honking the world 211 Cranes 212 Turning the clocks back 212 That walk 213 Dalbeth Cemetery 214
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Autumn Conkers, cones and acorns
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It’s conker time again! 216 Acorns, bcorns and ccorns 217 Kindling 218 Conkers 219 Thank you 220 Soul food 221
Autumn reflections
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Falling 224 Woodpecker 225 Migration 225 Harvesting the heart 226 Every choice matters 227 The clocks go back 228 This season of reflection 229 An autumn struggle 230 Seven short reflections on autumn’s lessons A melancholy beauty 234 Autumnal 235 When the frost comes 235 The leaves flutter 236 Dark mornings have arrived 238 There is a season for everything 239
Key to symbols
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Revised Common Lectionary readings in October Golden calves (Exodus 32:1–20) 242 C Nathan (2 Samuel 12:1–13) 244 = Question time in the Temple (Matthew 22:15–22) 245 U Rules one and two (Matthew 22:34–40) 246 = A long day (Mark 10:13–16) 248 V God will gift you (Numbers 6:22–27) 249 It’s hard to enter the kingdom (Mark 10:23–30) 250 God and money (Luke 16:1–13) 251
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Autumn Liturgies and prayers for special days
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Holy Cross prayers 254 Who do you see? (For Prisons Week) 255 World Day of Communion (Revised Common Lectionary, Year A) World Day of Communion (Revised Common Lectionary, Year B) World Day of Communion (Revised Common Lectionary, Year C) A litany for Reformation Sunday 275
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Liturgies and prayers for ordinary days
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A morning prayer 278 An all-age evening liturgy 279 An autumn liturgy 286 An autumn Eucharist 290 A liturgy for letting go 294
All Hallows’ Eve
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Between the worlds 298 Samhain is here 299 V When it is our time 300 “ Deliver us from our fears 301 “ U A storytelling liturgy for All Hallows’ Eve
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Autumn blessings and sendings
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As the light fades 310 May Christ come close to you 310 The breath of angels 310 We move into the night 311 And evermore 311 A secure refuge in God 312 Lullaby me 312 Bless us and keep us good 313 God’s face is shining on you 314 The old bedtime stories 314 Love remains 315
Sources and acknowledgements
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Key to symbols
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Biblical reflection Liturgy Song Story Script
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About the contributors
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Autumn
Introduction Winter, Spring, Summer, and now – to complete the series of seasonal liturgical resources begun in 2016 – Autumn. Phew! I’ve defined each season by the month that contains the solstice or equinox and the month either side of it. Autumn is a liturgical resource book that covers the months of August, September and October. It includes prayers, responses, stories, poems, liturgies, songs, reflections, scripts and monologues for the Christian seasons of Transfiguration, Ordinary Time and Harvest, as well as Angels’ and Saints’ days, World Day of Communion, Creation Time and All Hallows’ Eve. There are also poems for autumn, reflections on autumn leaves and fruits and autumn blessings. The resources are written by members, associate members and friends of the Iona Community and others. Thank you to all the contributors for their rich and imaginative material that I have been privileged to edit over the past five years. I have enjoyed a mailbox full of surprises and delights. A huge thank you to the Wild Goose Publications team, particularly to Sandra Kramer and Neil Paynter, whose advice, wisdom, questioning e-mails and attention to detail I continue to value greatly. A blessing, God. A blessing on ordinary time. A blessing on the commonplace. A blessing on the common life. A blessing. A wondering. A hope, a sadness and a joy. Ruth Burgess (lingering in summer as the earth turns towards autumn 2021)
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Autumn in August
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Autumn
Seasons I whispered in winter and did not disturb the deep white silence of the snow. I sang in the springtime with the feathered choir of birds in concert in the trees. I whistled in summer and the sunshine’s rays danced on the waters to my tune. Autumn made me quiet. Crispness and colours, sunset and stillness calmed my soul. Irene Howat
Memory juice One loganberry does not make a summer, but one is enough to take me back through many summers to when loganberries were familiar friends beyond the trellis. The house was at the end of an urban row, all gone now. There was an alley to one side where I used to play tennis against a neighbour’s wall. The garden was small, with pink roses that climbed, and lilies of the valley that spread. At the end was a shed with cobwebs, and beyond, an old poplar tree. A few streets away bombs had dropped and doodlebugs had wrought their own havoc, not far from a quiet river. This still wends its green way to where once an abbey stood. The park is now in the hands of the National Trust.
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Autumn in August Who could have imagined that? There my dad once came rather reluctantly, I think, to play cricket with me with a bat too big. It was a great place for conkers too. So, one loganberry takes me back through summers long ago to my autumn now. The taste still tingles. John Randall
Swallows at Crianlarich The sleeper shuffles into Crianlarich on a grey morning, eyes not quite open yet. Stepping onto the platform, I feel air from the hills splash like fresh water in my face and am startled by a world full of wings: swallows swooping round the station, small bodies that jink and dart over the down platform, past tearoom signs and tubs of late-summer flowers, across lines stretching south to Glasgow, rails running north across Rannoch Moor – dancing as though delighted, maybe with the morning midge-rise, or simply with all that air, sending out urgent messages on twitter, low-flying, then looping over and up to gather on wires with fast-beating hearts: a new brood testing their wings in training for the long haul where lines converge on the horizon, connecting with another hemisphere. And this in-between place where I’ve alighted, paused for breath, is where the tired year breathes out and blows them far away – where the young swallows’ journey starts. Jan Sutch Pickard
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Autumn
The layered hedge At summer’s end, just out of childhood, I remember watching an old man layering a hawthorn hedge. Strong knotted hands slashed into branches which wrenched white to show the split cords of their life. He had seen two wars. Driven horse teams through the Flanders mud and returned. In that later war he watched the skies for fire. A sentinel against the never (thank God) invasion. He understood the weave of seasons, elements and time: air and water, fire and earth. And so, he took the blade to the branch and ripped it down, twisting the split wood, weaving it ruthlessly to form a strong hedge of bare and tortured thorn. But in the spring the leaves broke – delicate, fringed like small, translucent, embryo hands of silken green – and healed the scars. The hedge was whole again. Blossom burst like surf – white and startling with beauty. Janet Killeen
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Autumn in August
The holiday month, 1950s Dad’s off work, and we’re off school, mum’s packed the trunk and it’s gone ahead. We walk with small satchels to the Underground, then the steam train, where dad tells us stories. We are off on holiday. Out of the city, away to the sea. August, the holiday month; away from grey and smoke and brick, to green and trees, hills and sea. The sea, endless water, rolling waves, sand and mud and swimming. A lot of laughter, plenty of space. It was the peak of the year. A joyful family time. Refreshment for body, mind and spirit, the healing touch of God’s Big Book. Chris Polhill
The bees and the beekeeper Autumn Autumn, season of halcyon days, spreads its amber light around the hive like honey’s glow. Bee bodies surge out in powerful dance, rise and fall, fall and rise, fronting the hive’s full season’s store. Waxed is the honey, the pollen all sealed.
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Autumn With fatal joy the drones buzz loud unknowing of their numbered days. ‘Drones hive not with me,’* the beeman quotes. He’ll watch them be pushed out one by one. On the storeroom shelves honey-filled jars smugly rest. Winter The bees lie fallow, or so one could say, in the hive, all the wintertime. In a womb of nectar and pollen no birth stirs. Peering out, as I watch, a single bee takes lonely flight. A brown stain drops on the snow below. ‘So much for you,’ it says, ‘if you must stare.’ Spring Clear-winged workers, without rest, soar up from the hive, flight-path planned, on a spring-bright day. As they float back down, pollen-laden squadrons shine orange and cream at the entrance bar. Pollen, spilling, targets their landing pad. Within the dull brown cells birth stirs. This is the spring.
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Autumn in August Apple blossom petals slowly drift across the lawn. Summer The hive scent drifts sweetly by in the evening air. The end of a honey-flow day. The thousands-strong colony powerfully hums. In close-packed cells pupae stir, furred youngsters seek the light of their short life. Eager in maiden flight, busy new workers exude the vigour of their fertile queen. The beekeeper quietly hefts the laden hive and smiling walks slowly away. Arthur Merrall * Shylock in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice
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Autumn
Watching for shooting stars The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. Psalm 19:1–4 (NRSV)
Lying side by side on a summer night, eagerly watching the sky – ready to welcome those shooting stars that the August dark brings each year. Groundsheet underneath us, blankets over us keeping out the late-night chill; flat on our backs, looking straight up, we wait. There we are, cosseted and covered, ‘Oooo’ and ‘Ahhhh’ ready on our lips; lying on the grass, watching the heavens, waiting for a streak of light. ‘There’s one!’ ‘And another!’ ‘Did you see that one there?’ ‘That was the best so far!’ Shooting stars cross the midnight sky, random trails of white light; fast, bright stars live for a moment, dust going out in a blaze of glory. We wait, we watch, we wonder at this awesome, free, annual show. We are ready with anticipation, excited with expectation, looking for the next line of light.
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Autumn in August ‘Did I just hear our local badger strolling by?’ Not too sure if she might come over to nibble our toes. But our eyes stay fixed on the sky above, not wanting to miss any stars in this show. The night becomes chill and damp; we begin to grow cold and tired. ‘It’s time to go in.’ ‘No, just one more!’ So, we wait till we’ve seen another shooting star, the blaze from a comet’s tail, then wearily stumble inside to snuggle down in our softer, warmer beds. Our night-time adventure is over for this year, but our minds are full at the beauty and wonder of the show. The cold is soon forgotten yet the memories of the night will stay with us till August comes round again. We could not see them all – though we would have liked to have tried! The rare sight we saw cut a path across our souls leading to the light that is God. The beauty of that briefest fire, the blazing seconds that split the sky, is a fleeting moment in a fleeting life, yet with such a potential for beauty. The heavens truly told the glory of God, their silent, brilliant voice going out to the ends of the earth. Simon and Kira Taylor
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Autumn In the first half of August every year, we have, in Devon, the wonder of the Perseid meteor show as the Earth passes through the trail of dust and debris behind the Swift-Tuttle comet. This was first recorded in 36 AD, and at its peak there can be 60 or more shooting stars in an hour.
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Transfiguration
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Autumn
What am I? What am I? First clue: I’m huge. Second clue: I’m made of ice and water. Third clue: You often find me hanging around the tops of mountains. Fourth clue: One of my names is cumulus and another is cirrus. Got it? Yes, I’m a cloud. Who are we? There are three of us. At least one of us is married. Two of us are brothers. We’re friends of Jesus. Guessed it? Yes, we’re Peter, James and John. What am I? I’m a subject taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m a word that means change. I’m a feast day of the Christian Churches. I’m a word beginning with ‘T’. You’ve got me? I’m the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus. So, here’s the story: Jesus went up a mountain because he wanted to spend some time praying, and he took Peter, James and John with him. While Jesus was praying, his face shone, and his clothes were dazzling and bright. Peter, James and John were tired, but they managed to keep awake and see what was happening. They saw Jesus talking to two men, and they thought that the men were Moses and Elijah, famous prophets who lived long ago. When it was time to go back down the mountain, Peter didn’t want to go. ‘Let’s stay here,’ said Peter to Jesus. ‘We can make three shelters: one for you, and one each for Moses and Elijah. While Peter was saying this a cloud came down and they were all covered in shadow. It was terrifying. A voice seemed
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Transfiguration to come out of the cloud and it said, ‘This is my son, the one I have chosen, listen to him.’ For a long time, Peter, James and John told nobody what had happened on the mountain. It was an important experience for them and for Jesus. It was a story that the church would later tell again and again. Ruth Burgess, Spill the Beans
May we recognise We don’t need Harry Potter with his spells of transfiguration: may we simply have eyes of faith and see the wonder among us. May we recognise your poetry in every meadow, your humour in every face, your cunning in every season, your imagination in every voice, your joke in Scotland’s weather, your patience in every glacier, your question in every faith, your excitement with every follower, your love in every friendship, your passion in every fingerprint, your laughter in every sunrise, your mystery at the heart of it all. May we believe, without Harry’s Elder Wand or Hogwarts latest book of spells, that we can transfigure anything when we recognise your love at the heart of everything. So be it. Amen. Liz Crumlish
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Autumn
The between places God in every mystery holding us in the between places thin enough for heaven and earth to get tangled. God in every silence deep enough to cause that vacuum that draws together the edges of spirit and matter. God in every light, darkness and glory who crosses the lines of our theology with a story. May we meet here in the borderlines where all that is rational gets mixed up in all that is imaginative, and where systems get redrawn with new colours, and let you grow a little more. Let you grow beyond what is familiar and into that which is still, for us, an adventure. May we discover the loving space between worlds, where imagination is set free and story unfolds. Where faith revels in this new space of transfiguration, of seeing things from a different point of view. Hear us from within the mystery and awe and wonder that is God. Roddy Hamilton
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Transfiguration
The numbers of our days Today by car to Whitby, A69, A1, A19, A171, tripping memories of work journeys, midnight call-outs attending the dying. Countless trips, yet today strangely unfamiliar. To be alive on August 6th, 2018, my days’ numbers so blessed. The car carefully driven, for 100 miles peaks at 52.2 mpg. Not in Hiroshima 73 years ago. A day written in different numbers. Lunch stop walk at RSPB* Saltholme provides nourishment, a new cap and 26 species of birds, one helpful man 1 nuclear bomb dropped who identifies the single green sandpiper. 20,000 dead soldiers. 70,000-126,000 dead civilians. After 2.5 hours of driving, arrival, greeted by two friends. I ponder my good fortune. As the days pass many more swell the number, and not a single bird is seen. Mary Warner * Royal Society for the Protection of Birds
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Autumn
Cosmic Golgotha Suppose the material order, as we have argued, is indeed the garment of Christ, the Temple of the Holy Ghost? Suppose the bread and wine, symbols of all creation, are indeed capable of redemption awaiting its Christification? Then what is the atom but the emergent body of Christ? It was on the mountaintop that Jesus was transfigured. He spoke with Moses and Elijah in the Ruach (Hebrew for spirit) world, on the mountaintop. He was the At-one-ment, the key to the spiritual and the material: unifying love. And His whole body glistened, the preview of His resurrection body. The Feast of the Transfiguration is August 6th. That is the day when we ‘happened’ to drop the bomb at Hiroshima. We took His body and we took His blood and we enacted a cosmic Golgotha. We took the key to love and we used it for bloody hell. Nobody noticed. I am not being cheap about other people. I did not notice it myself. I was celebrating the Feast of the Transfiguration, in a gown and a cassock, a hood, a stole, white hands, saying with the whole Christian ministry, ‘This is my body … This is my blood.’ The while our ‘Christian civilisation’, without Church protest, made its assertion of the complete divorce between spirit and matter. One man noticed. When the word came through to Washington of the dropping of the atom bomb – ‘Mission successfully accomplished’ – Dr Oppenheimer, in large degree in our name its architect, was heard to say, ‘Today the world has seen sin.’ Should any reader of this suppose that August 6th, 1945 was Nadir, the lowest point in human disobedience, let us remember that the world potential for perpetrating bloody hell (as ‘the lesser of two evils’) is now a million times Hiroshima. George MacLeod, Coracle, December 1965
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Transfiguration
Thin places (Matthew 17:1–9) Might we hear the story of the Transfiguration, not as a piece of faith history or even as a metaphor, but as an invitation to bring back to the centre of all we do, a contemplative life and mystical faith that pushes the edges back a little, that seeks to see beyond where our corporate and institutional lives let us go? We might be tempted to focus on the Transfiguration of Jesus as some kind of authentication of his unique relationship with God. But might we also allow ourselves that deeper part ourselves that actually wants more from our faith than proof texts, that recognition that we have it within ourselves, rather than the institution, to see that the whole earth reveals God’s glory? Might we let the image of the Transfiguration – that moment when the disciples, and perhaps Jesus himself, saw beyond the everyday – to push the limits of our imagination and spirituality? We might be happy, in our rational world where everything has an explanation, to hear the story simply as the poetics of an ancient worldview, but whose testimony is essentially untrustworthy for our rational ears. Or perhaps we might choose not to lose the wonder and hear the story as one of many examples in our faith, along with other faiths, that recognise that there are deeper dimensions in the world: thin places of transformation and resurrection that emerge in ordinary places and make them for us extraordinary. May we not be scared to say that our faith is not a book of beliefs to agree to, but a way of seeing the world – its value and beauty and energy. Kilchoman Beach on Islay. The Road of the Dead on Iona. Sitting in the seat behind the communion table just as people arrive on a Sunday and not being noticed. Lying on my back at the top of Berwick Law looking at the world upside down. Sitting in our house, mug of tea in hand, watching the rain throw itself at the window. Some of my thin places. Places where I feel the membrane of the world is as fine as tissue, and I move out of myself a little, perceive the world in a richer way, see its beauty, feel a different energy. We all have our thin places, and I invite you now to remind yourselves of them: those places, or moments, or times where we are free of feeling bent
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Autumn with the weight of our worries or of chasing our tails for some institution. Those liberating places that are all too rare for us to appreciate – yet vital for the sake of our emotional well-being and spiritual health. Let us make time to contemplate them. Let us lay aside the stuff of religion, the learning and doctrine, the beliefs we imagine we have to hold to, and take ourselves to those transfiguration points, those thin places that speak more to us than any sermon can. And I’m happy to leave you there, in your imaginations: in those thin places where we perceive and revere the wonder, the energy, the infinite contrast of life. And this is possibly the most valuable thing we can offer in worship. It is somewhat of an irony that religion is allowed to choke out the breath of that which is mystical, more deeply spiritual. We have institutionalised our spirituality. It becomes something that is done to us, and we lose the freedom, the adventure, those thin places invite, which takes us beyond our imagined rules of religion to see deeper into God and love. And such lively, spiritually charged transformative thin places might be our greatest gift and resource for changing this world’s centuries-old trajectory of violence, for rescuing us from sin and fear. So if you’d like, name some of your thin places on one of the cards there in the pews, and we’ll collect them after: to share this sacred world we inhabit together and connect at a deeper level.* Spirit, may we find a deeper way to meet you. May we let go the words and find that place deeper than sound where we can breathe again more freely, more honestly, and perceive the thinness of the world and the closeness of heaven. Amen. Roddy Hamilton * The cards were tacked up on the wall for everyone to read and talk about.
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Transfiguration
Frustration (Mark 9:14–32) Characters: Andrew (the Apostle) and Susanna (one of the women in the group of disciples) Susanna:
Andrew! I was wondering where you’d got to. Supper will be served soon. Are you coming back?
Andrew:
Not yet. I’m not hungry.
Susanna:
Don’t count on anything being left over. Peter and the Zebedee boys have been up a mountain and back.
Andrew:
I’ve no desire to hear their bragging. I’ll get something at the inn if I need to. But thanks for thinking of me.
Susanna:
I know it’s been a difficult day …
Andrew:
Dear Susanna, always so tactful. It’s been a terrible day.
Susanna:
It must be difficult when Jesus shares things with your brother but not with you. I’m sure he has his reasons.
Andrew:
I’ve no quarrel with Jesus – when he’s here he makes each of us feel special. But the way Peter takes it! The look he gave me as he swaggered off up that path.
Susanna:
I saw it too. But he didn’t look like that when he came back – it was as if he’d seen something beyond his understanding. Whatever it was silenced James and John – for once.
Andrew:
To be honest, I don’t really care what happened to them. What they left us to deal with was bad enough.
Susanna:
I know you tried to give the group a lead while we were waiting, dealing with all those people who turned up looking for Jesus.
Andrew:
Oh, I tried – perhaps too hard. I thought I’d impress Jesus on his return: show we’d learned something.
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Autumn Susanna:
Some were healed this morning. Some listened to the stories.
Andrew:
And others asked questions we could not answer. And then …
Susanna:
The boy?
Andrew:
Why did his father bring him then? With the crowd grumbling because they’d missed Jesus. And the lawyers closing in to pick us off.
Susanna:
He was desperate. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to get through before. It can’t have been easy travelling with a lad with violent fits.
Andrew:
But why did it have to be when I was there? This horror has possessed the boy for years. Why expect us to free him now?
Susanna:
Horror? Yes – folk fell back at the foaming mouth, the clenched teeth, the rigid body. But it was love that brought him to us. Love that faced the contempt and the fear. Love that risked the loss of all hope.
Andrew:
That is true. I hadn’t seen it that way. His parents must have loved him, to rescue him again and again when the wildness threw him into fire and water.
Susanna:
So easy to lose patience. As we did, when our healing touch made no difference.
Andrew:
With the crowd, drawn to the noise, demanding a spectacle.
Susanna:
While the lawyers posed mocking, tricky questions about Jesus, and demons, and who has authority.
Andrew:
I tried, we all tried, straining in the heat and the dust.
Susanna:
Until you left.
Andrew:
Suddenly, it was all too much. I couldn’t bear it. The man’s despairing eyes, the whimpering of his son, our hope seeping away. I was angry at Jesus for not being there, not preparing us, raising
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Transfiguration expectations we can’t meet. I’m just a fisherman. I don’t have to put myself through that. So I left. Susanna:
I don’t blame you. We were all exhausted, and so were the boy and his father. Perhaps that’s why they were still there when Jesus arrived back. We didn’t see him at first – just sensed the anticipation sweeping through the crowd.
Andrew:
Then everything was suddenly all right? Great, why did I even bother to try?
Susanna:
No, it wasn’t that simple. When Jesus took in the scene he was frustrated. I think whatever happened on the mountain had been momentous for him too. He probably wanted time to rest and reflect.
Andrew:
We’d let him down.
Susanna:
Not just us. The crowd, sceptical but wanting excitement; the lawyers trying to regulate God’s power; and perhaps this whole broken world which distorts a child’s life. Above all, the lack of faith.
Andrew:
I thought I had faith – but it wasn’t enough.
Susanna:
That’s what the father said. He pleaded with Jesus, ‘I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!’
Andrew:
And then?
Susanna:
And then Jesus took control – tackling the horror directly. The convulsions were awful to watch. Suddenly it seemed to be all over, the lad pale and rigid, the crowd groaning, the lawyers smirking. Then Jesus pulled him to his feet, whole and smiling.
Andrew:
I don’t understand.
Susanna:
None of us do. There’s much to talk over at supper. Come, it will be ready now.
Kit Walkham
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