Month: June 2020

A decent morning, with some sun and some cloud, a bit more of a breeze and far less haze than there was earlier in the week, but still sweaty if one exerts oneself enough. A slightly longer walk this morning, partly with Janet, and seeing one or two butterflies I’d never knowingly seen before. I could see one of west Cheshire’s little escarpments from the road above Padfield. It’s Saturday, and the top two divisions of football in England are playing again, but in front of cardboard crowds. So it’s hello again to mild despair as I look up scores on the BBC website. Can the town where I last worked as a minister avoid the indignity of successive relegations? In the lowest moments I find it hard to think they have any assets other than a supportive crowd – and they don’t have that now.

As the little signs come
that normal life is beginning to return;
the pain has still not gone away.
People still die.
New people are becoming infected
in significant numbers.
We keep in mind all those
who are bearing the pain right now.
God give strength and peace, we pray.
Give healing for our divided society,
and the peace that comes from justice.

In the Lectionary, Hagar the slave is thrown out of Abraham’s household, along with her son. Throughout that long passage, he’s not given a name – as if his history ends there. It’s a bitter kind of freedom for them, released into destitution and the daily fear of death in the wilderness. As the boy grows, they learn to get by in that harsh environment – you learn to do what you have to do to keep alive. We hear about God’s promise to them as well, a nation from the son. But it’s not the mainline of scripture history, it’s a sidetrack. If some people are chosen, then some people must be unchosen. There are also stands of inclusivity in the Old Testament Scriptures, like the story of Ruth the Moabite; but in the main the understanding of God is of one who has favourites. This grim theme is not completely undone until Jesus comes and people reflect on his life and its significance. Romans 6:3… “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptised into Christ Jesus…” the ‘all of us’ (as we see elsewhere) is now open to people of all nations and of every social standing.

But there’ s still a choice to be made. This time, the choice is ours, though. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus invites people to follow him – but he’s honest about what that’s going to cost – and it will be everything.

There’s been a bit of sun this morning, but mostly cloud. Also there were a few spots of rain just after I got in. It was a bit of a ‘Goldilocks’ walk: nice.

Yesterday evening, more thunder, and some heavyish rain. This morning, more of the standard kind of rain, modest, moderate, the sky generally cloudy and no flashes and bangs.

And from the Lectionary…

“10:28 Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.
10:29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.
10:30 And even the hairs of your head are all counted.
10:31 So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew’s gospel)

The ‘do not be afraid’ is in the context of expected persecution (or ongoing persecution for the original readers maybe). And the sparrows… I’ve seen enough wildlife documentaries take a dark turn, to know that sparrow life is quite hazardous. The point (it seems to me) is not that bad stuff won’t happen, but that in all this stuff, the Father is still with the sparrows/us.

Another morning of low clouds and mistiness…

And the wall-mounted foxgloves have now burnt most of the way up the flower-spike…

After two and a half days of thunderstorms popping up a few miles to the west, we had our own last night. The rain didn’t go on for very long, fortunately, because there might have been quite a lot if it had.

Not everyone has the privilege of gazing at the sky all the time. Some folks have to keep the world going.

We thank you God
for people who do the work
that’s essential to life.
Often it’s hard work,
sometimes it’s dangerous, or unpleasant,
unwanted, or underpaid.
We honour them,
and ask that they will always
get fair treatment.

Just as the second aeroplane of the day flew over, I thought I caught a sniff of burnt kerosene. It can’t have been that one, maybe it was the earlier one. But probably not – we’re miles from the airport, though quite close to the glide path. Must’ve been an olfactory hallucination – or maybe I’ve become hypersensitive over the last few months. Or it could easily have been something else anyway. Besides which, why were they landing towards the southwest today anyway? Wouldn’t that be downwind? There we are – that’s as much mystery as I can summon up today.

There’s some mid-level cloud as well this morning. It’s all fairly quiet at the moment, a nice gentle, mild day. The grass in the garden grows taller, and the seed-heads sway gracefully in the gentle breeze. I’ve had a walk, and Janet’s writing.

A warm sunny morning, promising a sticky day. As I walked by the trees, I could see the reservoir on the other side of the trees, water reflecting the sun. My movement past the trees was much more than the movement of waves in the water, so it looked as I kept glancing as if the water was not moving at all, like rippled silver.

The Lectionary for next Sunday seems to feature some things about conflict, like the split in Abraham’s dynasty, and this from Jesus … “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34) Now in one way, that is a perfectly good prediction – we know enough about politics to know that sometimes people will cosy up to a lie and hate the truth. All Jesus had to do was to speak the truth, and there would have been opposition. And I like to think of it as a prediction. But I can’t help thinking there’s more to it than that. Did Jesus intend to bring division and controversy? – it may have been an inevitable consequence of saying what he said, doing what he did and being what he was. The rest of the passage is a disturbing read too. Some of those words could have come from the leader of a 1960s cult. Why did Jesus say these things, and if he did say them, why did the writer choose to include them in that gospel? And how does it fit with the angels’ song? More anon.

Another fair morning, with a moderate easterly, and the low clouds coming and going. When the clouds are down, they seem to linger more in the woodlands than in open country.

Also there was a mini- rock fall where the trail goes through a low cutting.

After another early morning of low cloud and damp mist, the weather’s now smiling – blue sky and sun. But I’m told that here and there this lovely sun will heat the ground up enough to make some unpleasant (but potentially interesting) showers. Beware the smile. The bilberries by the lane over old railway bridge are getting closer to ripeness. I ate one this morning. So there’s a hundredth of one of my five-a-day.

People seem to be moving ever more freely, maybe too freely. I suppose we take our cue from the example set at the top.

A little humid this morning, less wind than yesterday, a little bit of drizzle and the cloud base down to about 400m at times. There is a decent amount of water now, rushing down the steps and into Valehouse Reservoir. A quiet, unassuming morning, and a time for being wrapped up in the process of walking. I saw my first sheared sheep of the year in a field above Padfield.

The sun’s out now I’m home, and I can see a low drizzle-bow.

There’s something rather beautiful about the drizzle falling through the sunlit air outside the front window.

I feel as if I’ll never have any influence on what happens to my country anymore, not through the vote, not through anything. Our culture will be crushed by the American jagarnath. We’ll have a weird kind of freedom, and it’ll be ‘no work, no bread’ which I speculate is one of the reasons some countries have been hit hard by the pandemic – people afraid to stop working. Just think about the Parable of the Labourers in the Vineyard for the moment. It’s reckoned to say something about God’s kingdom and the people of God, but consider it possible that it also says something about vineyards, and labourers, and remuneration.

As the sun rises, the rainbow sinks, disappearing into the ground.

Entertaining TV programme last night about the struggles of TPE. I couldn’t work out why the makers smudged over the name on the Northern train that had derailed at Ardwick. Did Northern think the viewers wouldn’t notice that it was one of their trains that had held everybody up? Or did they want to charge to programme makers for depicting the logo, and the makers had refused? Or something else? Anyway, train operators will be facing a whole different set of problems now.

Hard work on the outward leg of my walk this morning, with a stiff easterly and bits of rain. It was not a fast walk, nor a particularly pretty one. Even in this weather, there’s quite a few people out first thing.

From the Lectionary… Just a little bit of a verse out of context. Jesus is sending disciples out to preach and heal and he says (among other things) this… “and you will be hated by all because of my name.” (Matthew 10:22). I’ve felt like that sometimes. But (i) it’s rarely true in our generation. Christians may feel persecuted way more than we actually are. (ii) Nevertheless, being hated is still a real thing, there will be some who hate us for various reasons, some, sadly, justified. The Jesus way is not a bed of roses: but it is life.

Also I saw a remote controlled lawnmower cutting the grass on the steep bank of Rhodeswood Dam. Good idea I thought. Then I saw two old-fashioned types being hand pushed on the identical incline near the bottom of the dam.