It’s great being on the west-facing slopes. but it has its disadvantages, and today is one of them. A small difference in wind direction and it rains on Snowdonia but not on us. As it is, it seems to be raining on us (and Snowdonia too I assume). It might clear up a bit I suppose.
It’s good to walk in the rain, though – the ways are quieter. The hard rocky landscape is softened by mist and a hill-clinging cloudbase. The only real snag is having to look at the scenery through damp glasses. You can be in more of a world of your own in the rain, and your thoughts can go anywhere. Not that mine went anywhere very interesting this morning, but there you go.
This horse is fooling no-oneAnd for the sake of completeness, some buttercups
We thank you God for things that are surplus, surplus energy, surplus imagination, surplus fun, singing and colour and joy.
PS. If ‘the science’ has only recently said it’s a good idea to wear a face covering in enclosed public spaces to save other people from your potential infection, why have I been wearing one for over two months?
The Lectionary passages for next Sunday begin with the story of Jacob’s Ladder. Now another Jacob’s Ladder, as many people know, is part of the uphill which begins the Pennine Way, from Edale to Kinder Scout. ISTR the route used to be Grinds Brook, which was a bit scrambly for my taste.
Jacob recalls his dream, and declares that God is in that place. How convenient for those who assembled the OT scriptures that this experience of God was accompanied by the promise of an inheritance – the land. I could be cynical about this, but however you spin it, I’m left with the question, how do we know God is in the place or that place? Is it enough to have a dream that serves our dynastic ambitions? Is it enough to have a feeling? I have walked up the Derbyshire Jacob’s Ladder and wandered around that almost alien landscape of Kinder, with the mist coming and going, and felt, God is in this place. But is God really in that place in any sense that he wouldn’t be in any other place, like our street, or Golgotha? Kinder feels natural, unpeopled, unruined by human actions. But it’s not like that. The moors in general are managed land. And there is evidence in the darkening of the rocks for the past sooty/acidic excesses of Sheffield and Manchester. And God, in some sense – if only in suffering – but I would add love and inspiration and more – is also present in human life.
Even though I am now much more one for the flat walking, I still sometimes feel the power of the high places, and if I’m alone I might even launch into a verse or two of a Psalm-based hymn. I know it’s only a feeling. I know God doesn’t live in these places to the exclusion of more humdrum places. But knowing it’s only a feeling, can I nevertheless knowingly and thankfully accept the inspiration and energy these experiences give me?
a picture from a while ago
The Gospel reading also mentions angels. It might be interesting sometime to know how the meaning of that word has changed over time, and that’s just the English version, let alone Hebrew or Greek. The reading is the story of the wheat and the weeds. You don’t know which is which until they have borne fruit – in the human case – had an impact on the world. Sometimes my morning walks take me along the Longdendale Trail. Since May half term, the way has been decorated with some beautifully painted creatures made out of stones – something to entertain families out in the open. But vandals or maybe equestrians have struck, and degraded the displays. The head has been removed from the snail. I used to know someone who told me that when he was young his mates would feed calcium carbide to pigeons, so that the water in the pigeons’ digestion would react with the chemical and make acetylene, causing them to explode. It is said that cruelty to animals when young is something of a predictor of violent behaviour in later life. Childhood deprivation and family stresses make people more likely to offend in later life. Some of these factors can be measured. Would it then be more efficient for the justice system to concentrate of these people? No way – you can’t do that – it’s against their basic human rights to discriminate in this way. Also you don’t know what’s going to happen until it actually happens, which is why it connects to that story about the wheat and the weeds. Also if deprivation leads to criminality sometimes, why not just fix the deprivation instead of p***ing away our national resources on stamp duty holidays for the rich?
The pressure has risen and it is a lovely morning, the reservoirs in the valley beautifully reflective. But the rainfall of the past few weeks has also filled the reservoirs that can be filled, and some are spilling over. Everywhere you go in the valley you can hear the sound of rushing water.
Janet’s much improved and I’m hoping she’ll be back today or tomorrow.
Did some walking this morning, and Valehouse and Bottoms are full up to the spillover points. Rhodeswood was, but is now back to its normal level a couple of feet below. I think even Valehouse was a bit higher although they obviously need to do the dam work safely. Just a couple of little showers, so I think it must now be about two weeks since I did a walk entirely without rain.
Thank you God for the rain. Even if it can be a nuisance, it gives life to the earth and to us, and we thank you.
Only the tiniest bit of drizzle on the morning walk today, which culminated in a visit to the bakery and the local shop. I think I’m getting the hang of the protocol now – nearly there. SBO, but the shops are just the end of a long chain of other people’s work, growing, transporting, processing.
“A sower went out to sow”, and we thank you God, for sowers and reapers, and bean-counters and fence-menders, and drivers and washers and cooks, fork-lift drivers and shelf-stackers and bakers and sales staff, househusbands, housewives, waiters, chefs, bar staff… …and the millions of other people who keep us fed.
A walk again this morning, getting back just as it was starting to spit. Being quite early, I got to see a couple of deer. They seemed quite tan compared to the last one I saw…
For no good reason, I supposed they were a doe and child.
At the rising of the morning, when the farmer goes out for a day’s work with hope in her heart, we shall praise you. Although she knows the score, the risks, seed that doesn’t grow, floods, drought, glut, famine, she goes to work anyway. God give us all that hope; for somewhere, somewhen, in ways we do not yet know, our efforts will yield a harvest; and on that day, and today, we shall praise you.
Next Sunday’s Lectionary includes the parable of the sower. For most of my working life, including my time as a scientist, I’ve found it hard to know if what I’ve been doing has had any effect. I like to be able to see results – I like keeping spreadsheets of how far I’ve walked for example – but that is not an option for many of us. It takes a certain kind of character to plug away anyway – and at the same time keep one’s methods under review. Anyway, this parable is about a measurable harvest. There’s no suggestion that the sower was wrong to sow seed on the unproductive ground. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t – that’s just the way it goes. (That wouldn’t be a very good idea for today’s evidence-based farmer though).
As Christians, often we find that we sow and someone else reaps. I’ve done various bits of workplace chaplaincy, and I sometimes hear stories from people of how clergy have offended or mistreated them. The clergy themselves probably never got to hear of the (unhappy) effect they were having. I suggest that even if there may be no direct consequences for us, we need to display the love of Christ in actions as well as words. Naturally, that’s easier said than done!
Small street walk this morning, in the showeriness. I hope to do another bit later.
Sunshine and showers for the walk this morning, and a stiff wind. The strangely beautiful section was a walk down the deserted A628 between woodlands and fields: I took advantage of a rare closure for roadworks. It was wonderful just to be in that space which is usually so loudly and violently dominated by road vehicles. I made good time, and it felt like countryside, and I could hear the electricity transmission towers singing in the wind.
After that, we went to a zoom service reflecting on a pilgrimage which we had joined for a while. It was beautiful and moving and inspiring. Yes, the zoom thing really can work. I don’t know if it’s the numbers, or if 10-11 UK time on a Sunday morning is busy for the servers, but like the other Sunday morning zooms I have been to, there were a few slow-downs. It didn’t matter though: the service was brilliant. And you can be ‘anywhere’. I was going to tell people I’d been to a service in Derbyshire until I remembered that I too was in Derbyshire, just about … but this was the other side of Derbyshire – the part that’s nearer Derby than Manchester.
A couple of half-remembered snippets from recent news broadcasts… One is the tragic mudslide in Myanmar, in which over 100 died. They were poor people scrabbling around in mine waste for gemstones. The other is that care homes in the UK were more likely to get COVID outbreaks if staff were from agencies or didn’t have adequate sick pay. There’s a connection between these two: poverty isn’t just grim – it makes you take risks. If the choice is between risk-taking behaviour and not having any bread on the table, then you’ll take risks. This is the profit motive at its most red in tooth and claw. This may also explain the number of men I’ve seen all through this outbreak who have suspiciously recent haircuts. Barbers need to survive.
This is not right. We were made for something better than a desperate struggle for survival. “Blessed are the poor” says Jesus (apologies for the repetition): therefore we need to pray even more than ever, Jesus’ prayer… “…your will be done, your kingdom come, on earth as in heaven…”
I’ve spent quite a lot of time recently making up prayers to go with places we’ve been. But when I’m actually praying myself, and when I’m stuck (which is quite often), I go back to the Lord’s Prayer, the most fundamental of all Christian prayers.
