In Sunday’s Lectionary, there is some stuff about adoration and glory. In the Song of Solomon, someone admires their lover – “The voice of my beloved! Look, he comes, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.” Great, though I’m wondering what’s going to keep them together when they are older – there will be something I hope. And I never resembled a gazelle, even when young. Psalm 45 adores the glory of a king. We are accustomed to seeing the glory of powerful people, like world leaders. But I am less inclined to adore such people. Some rule by violence or lying or robbing people who already have too little: the Psalm, however, also mentions God’s equity – God’s justice – which entitles a ruler to be adored. The letter of James points to a hidden glory, that lies behind quite ordinary deeds;- “Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights…”.
The weather today is grey but fair – and not threatening in any way to walkers. I like to think there’s a kind of glory in the grey – like unexpectedly coming across a little patch of fireweed lighting up the journey. And when it does actually drizzle a little, the gentle mistiness reveals the layers of hills as you look into the distance.