After a couple of weeks off, I took the litter picker for a walk. There has been less litter about because there are fewer litter louts about. There are even fewer cigarette ends – maybe people are living more healthy lives. I suppose wearing masks to avoid infection is another manifestation of that. So, if you are so tuned into the need to be safe from germs, why throw your used mask down in the street?
I wonder what does the Ascension of Christ mean to you? For some we have that picture, often depicted in art, with Jesus’ feet disappearing up into the clouds; of the post-resurrection Jesus no longer being physically present with the disciples, as he returns to his Father in heaven. But the disciples were not left alone, they were told to wait in the city, to then be “clothed from with power from in high”; I am sure they must have wondered what Jesus meant, but as ever they were obedient to his words. That must have been such a rollercoaster 40 days for them, since Easter Day; as it is for many of us today, but as we journey together through this we too anticipate Pentecost … in the meantime we have the novena, 9 days of prayer to look forward to.
God Bless and keep safe, keep connected and keep praying.
Rev Jo Richards, rector, Saint Mildred’s, Canterbury.
Upper Photo by CD, from the Chapel of the Franciscan Minoresses, Derbyshire; Lower Photo, MMB, priest’s vesting table, Church of Jesus in the Attic, Amsterdam. A reminder to pray for the Spirit before preaching.
Bishop Claude Rault M Afr was bishop of the Sahara before retiring. He knew most of the Algerian Martyrs whom we have reflected on before. Their feast day was May 8th, and Bishop Claude preached this homily in Paris. What do you think makes someone a saint?
Gwen Riley Jones is a computer imaging member of the John Rylands library staff iin Manchester. Since the team cannot get into the library, they are working from home, imagining rather than just imaging. William Blake would approve. I hope you do too.
Good morning and hope this finds you well, as we are here at the Rectory. One of the things I find difficult about this lockdown, is remembering what day it is! Those of you watching Morning Prayer know where I am coming from…is it Wednesday or Thursday, and then the reassuring sound of the rubbish Lorry (thank you keyworkers) alerted me to the fact that it’s Thursday – but what does differentiate our days?
Several people have mentioned that this rhythm of prayer (Morning Prayer & Compline), work (paid work or clearing cupboards/gardening), exercise, and rest is very monastic, and something that I have reflected on myself. Last night I caught up with a friend of mine, a sister in a closed convent, and we chatted on Zoom (yes is possible), and how this rhythm to our days was not that dissimilar to their way of life.
May years ago I was introduced to something called Rhythm of life, how each day one should have a quiet time, each week a quiet time (Sabbath), every month maybe a quiet day, every year maybe a retreat – and what this feels like at the moment is a global ‘retreat’, everything has been paused – a chance of reflection, of asking some of the bigger questions, of giving our planet that opportunity to breathe….of action and contemplation. That rhythm of alternating between meeting with God in the quiet place, and then the meeting of God in the busyness of the market place.
Rev Jo Richards, Rector, Benefice of St Dunstan, St Mildred and St Peter, Canterbury.
If I do not use these pictures soon, the moment will have completely passed. On one of our walks we passed these two Kentish orchards, one old, one new. How many years will the old one keep fruiting? And how long will the new one be productive? It represents a massive act of hope in the future, something we all need with the virus restricting our lives. (click on the photo to see the other orchard.)
The tombstone of Harry and Winifred Cuthbert proclaims that they were ‘dedicated’ to farming and fruit growing, witness the strawberry plant seen here. Every seed, every plant is an act of hope. So is a smile, a wave, a word of encouragement.
It was the first rainy day for weeks; in two hours of walking on paths that had been busy by viral standards last time we walked them, I scarcely met a score of fellow walkers. It was a few degrees cooler than the preceding days, and wet. As I reached Blean church, big heavy drops drove me under the yews; I began looking for passion flower carvings without success but enjoyed seeing the lichen again and these bluebells of different colours.
Many times have I cycled past here, usually going to or from work, but never noticed these, partly because the church is at the top of a hill and all my attention would have been on completing the climb. Since it was the virus that drove me out here on foot, this is a going viral post, Stay safe, let your heart be unconfined!
The Franciscans at Alnmouth Friary in Northumberland are supporting L’Arche Kent by finding unusual fund-raising things to do. The number 2.6 comes from the length of the postponed London Marathon run – 26 miles – which is a major fundraising event in the UK. I have to say I’d struggle to make 2.6 skips in shorts and trainers, let alone a habit and sandals. Brother Michal was skipping for 26 minutes! Bravo. Read the full report here. And thanks to all who continue helping L’Arche in any way.
It was lunch time and chat time at the Glebe, just two of us there to be together, preserve social distance and be safe and happy while the watering got done.
D remarked that he had not seen a robin all morning, which was unusual, even unheard of. So we listened: the blackbirds were singing, the seagulls were screaming, and the traffic was rumbling by, but no sound of a robin. Had the black-and-white cat got it? Neither of us had seen a body.
Then we realised why the robins were so quiet. At the top of the arch over the gate was – a baby robin, in full view of those murderous seagulls and magpies. Indeed, a gull swept down very near the arch as we watched. From out of the hedge flew a parent and chivvied the baby away. Let’s hope it survives!
Both of us retired, both gardeners, both riding to the local supermarket before the crowds but after the baker has started work. It went without saying that there was never enough time in the garden or allotment for either of us, and we agreed on the importance of keeping in touch. His family are at a distance, mine close at hand, but they do worry! ‘Dad, you shouldn’t be going to the shops, you can get it all on line; we’ll do it for you.’ We agreed that while we can do it we will do it: shopping, gardening, walking. My 70+ friends in Dublin may not go to the allotment which is usually their base for the afternoon! Their daughter leaves their shopping on the doorstep.