Have a look at Psalm 29 in tomorrow’s Lectionary. Does that glory language discourage us from being vain or narcissistic or pompous or thuggish? Surely it must because glory belongs to God, not to any of us human race. But experience makes me wonder if that’s true, because many people who claim to serve God are quite fond of their own glorification.
And I too am always cheered up when someone has seen something I tweeted. Maybe the platform reduces us to being ‘likes’ engines.
God give me a realistic idea of my own worth, not above the rest of humanity, but because I am human, for we are all made and loved by you.
The Lectionary for Sunday starts at the very beginning of the Bible. People have imagined how God created the world. (God did, I believe – although it’s hard to imagine how our earth- and time- bound language can make any sense of such a thing. There’s a lot of gold in those stories about humanity’s relationship with our Creator though).
If God created the world from chaos, or from nothingness; our beginnings are mostly not from nothing, but start somewhere. They are the endings of something else, or steps along the way. In Sheffield, the scrapheap is the beginning for fresh steel and a new piece of engineering.
The ending of Trump’s term as President of the US will probably be the beginning of a newly organised movement of resistance against democracy. I hope it isn’t, but… China is right: democracy is fragile. I believe it needs a lot of work to defend it (i) because it depends of fair and accurate information by which people can make choices (ii) because democracy depends on people, and people are prone to do wrong from time to time, most relevantly by believing what they want to believe (mea culpa too) so as to save their psychic skins. We’d much rather blame someone else or some other group for our misfortunes than admit our own fallibility. (iii) etc..
To return to the Lectionary, there’s another little word-worm that is a refrain in that section of Genesis; “And God saw that the light was good…” It was good. Hard to believe sometimes, but this is a wonderful world – dangerous sometimes, a place of pain as well as joy, but fundamentally wonderful. A surprising amount of our misfortune is more to do with human actions than the world we inhabit. COVID-19 is both natural and terrible. But its impact on us depends on our response and on how we are as a society. As with other health issues, it’s people in poverty who suffer disproportionately. As I think I’ve said already (somewhere) one of the reasons for this (not the only one) is that people who are desperate to put food on the table or who are terrified of losing their jobs will go into work even when they are infected or might be infected – and this feeling of desperation has not been discouraged over decades of government in England – indeed some people consider it the bedrock of a healthy economy. Anyway, may God forgive us.
Snowy this morning, but melting quite quickly at this altitude under a light sleety rain
It troubles me that a lot of people are already praying in the US, and yet this is where we end up. Can Americans (or indeed Brits) even pray together anymore?
Living God, give us all grace to listen in our praying, shutting up our own voices from time to time, to hear what our brothers and sisters… …and you are saying.
The Isaiah 60 reading is a prophecy that many naturally connect to the wise people who visited Jesus. It speaks of “the wealth of the nations” coming to the subject. This is the tangent… Something very similar to this phrase was used by Adam Smith to title his foundational book on economics, which like many foundational books has since been much misused. A quick look in Wikipedia suggests that the famous “Invisible Hand” only appears once in the book, and in a very specific context – it does not say that all markets everywhere operate beneficially on the basis of self-interest. That’s obviously untrue – self-interest has no time for later generations, or for the environment, or for those too poor to vote with their money, or for people who put their feet in your dog-mess, or any other externalities.
Anyway, according to Matthew, people did visit Jesus with gifts, although I’m not sure the picture I have in my head is necessarily accurate. Songs like “We three kings of orient are”, and Christmas cards with the silhouettes of three kings on camels on the horizon have conditioned us to think a certain way. Were there three of them? There were three gifts, so we jump to conclusions. Besides which, would three kings, dressed like kings and carrying gold really have traipsed across the Middle East without a few bodyguards?
As I write, the fairy lights are still flashing. We’re not sure whether to take them down or leave them up as a small particle of COVID cheer.
Unless everyone’s really scared, I can’t see this lockdown achieving dramatic results, but it should at least buy some time to get more vaccinations done. I hope it goes well. Worship is still legal, but I don’t see myself attending in the near future (not that a few silent people spaced out in churches are the most significant route for infection). Leading, if required, would be different.
Merciful God, give us all the grace to cope with the strangeness and strain of being shut indoors again, and to do what we can to help others cope.
Having slipped behind a bit (too much use of the ‘back’ button without checking I think), I need to get back on track and reckon now that the Lectionary for next Sunday is this.
Jesus was baptised. It signals a beginning for him – he has a ministry (serving) ahead of him. It signals his solidarity with the imperfect human race. It signals a death followed by a new life. It signals his special place in God’s intention for the world (“And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”) (“Well pleased, my son”, sounds a bit London to me.) It signals much more.
The meaning of baptism is also in the emotional impact. It’s not quite so obvious when an infant gets dabbed: but when someone older goes right under and is brought up again, with all their friends around, that is a big deal.
In Psalm 29 we read about the voice of God thundering over the mighty waters. It keeps amazing me that something so familiar, and so – well – liquid can also be so powerful, in the sea, in waterfalls, in destruction and in creating power.
Here’s some water – solid on the distant hills and some high clouds, liquid in the lower clouds and the puddles on the Trail, gas in the air between and around the clouds, causing them to form. The stuff is everywhere!More clouds and distant snow.
No walk again today, because it’s slippery at this preferable quiet time of a holiday Sunday and I don’t want to clog up A&E. No church for me either, because the current restrictions probably aren’t enough to keep R down once the new strain takes over (which is inevitable), and I don’t want to take a chance on spreading this thing.
And from today’s Lectionary – all those readings in some way remind me, “Don’t forget to hope!”
Yesterday’s mist in the valley
Look at the table of countries which have abolished the ‘tampon tax’* here, and you’ll see it includes Ireland which is in the EU. So what’s this nonsense about the abolition in the UK being a benefit of Brexit? * other sanitary products are available.
God of love. we praise and thank you for good weather and bad, for the eternal interplay of sunshine and moisture, of hot and cold, that nourishes the earth.
I hope it’ll be a better one. Meanwhile, the overwhelming of hospitals is coming with all the inevitability of a ridiculous New Year party. Morally, England is just not up to dealing with the virus – we probably could do with better leadership too. What’s it all about? People are wonderful, created and loved by God. People really matter. But we behave as if they don’t.
Only passed one person this morning.
A bit more of the world (and its satellite) was visible this morning.
Compared to most, we’ve managed OK this year personally – not had jobs to lose, and haven’t so far got the disease. I know it’s been harder for others, not least H & T. But all in all it’s not been a happy time for our country, and I sometimes feel as if I should have done something to make things better, but all I’ve done is snipe from the sidelines. I’m still not ready fully to embrace capitalism, for I feel that other people’s need is a claim on us. We are all connected. Naturally enough, there have been some frustrations this year, and our adventures have been very modest compared to Janet’s long walk last year. I have had a chance to get to grips with the Prayers for Places website, though, which has been fun.
As to next year, I’m still not really bedded into this place, and I’m not sure about doing new things when there’s the added complexity of COVID restrictions. But I hope I’ll do some useful stuff next year. Meanwhile, what am I going to do this Sunday, church or not church? I want to support our local village church, which is where I belong now, and it’s the Methodist Covenant Service, which I’d like to attend properly sometime, often having filched chunks of the service to use in the URC. I particularly like the bit about serving God when it suits us and when it doesn’t. OTOH it’s starting to feel antisocial to meet all these other people, even though the church is very organised and very careful about the rules and the windows are open.
Conditions underfoot were a better this morning, so I did a walk.
Still some snow on the branches after a slow thaw and a recent flurry
