Bob Warwicker's blog

Another sparkling day out there.

In the Psalm for Sunday the writer thanks God because of God’s kindness to him (probably ‘him’). And lots of people can indeed count their blessings. My love for God and probably yours is like the Psalmist’s, because it also seems conditional much of the time. Can we still love God when times are hard? That takes a certain kind of heroism. But I seem to remember that we’re taught the importance of unconditional love in human relating.

Loving God is not just about being thankful. It’s also about doing right, which is kindness and fairness for other people too (says he from his armchair).

Not expecting to see many people, I went barefaced this morning. It was a beautiful morning and I think I heard my first curlew of the year. I saw what might have been a hare, and later, down by Valehouse Dam, what might have been two sandpipers. Judging by the two helicopters carrying big orange globes, yesterday’s moorland fire is not completely out yet.

Odd thing to think about: I wonder what the Emmaus story might have been like under distancing rules. The earnest debate on the road, anticipation of a shared meal, etc. – is it possible to have a kind of intimacy in this mysterious encounter without proximity?

Creator God,
we pray for people in these days
who cannot enjoy the created world,
because they are too ill,
or confined in cities,
or overwhelmed by anxiety or grief,
or exhausted by their demanding jobs:
God bring them to the point
when they can love to live again.
Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayer.

Thank you very much to Janet, who with a piece of cotton fabric and a J-cloth, made a face mask for me that worked – a great improvement on tied up teatowels and scarves – and no worries about slippage.

I went on a longer walk which ended up as 1 1/4 hours, and saw a small number of people when I was nearly back home, but they were easy to avoid. I walked where I haven’t walked for a year or more, a little way along the top of Rhodeswood Dam. The work there is finished now. The water was quite rough in the wind.

On the way back, I could hear the wind making the electricity grid wires rumble. I’ve tweaked this recording a bit, but it’s unlikely you’ll be able to hear what my ears heard…

Spirit of God,
holy roaring gale,
energise our lives,
even as they are limited, constrained.
Help us to see beyond the present,
beyond our own needs
and embrace the world
in the love of Jesus Christ.

Another tea cloth, tied differently, this time for a trip to the village Tesco. But still it kept wanting to move out of position. I went without glasses to make it simpler. Crossing roads was tricky, because I had to move my whole body to look round, so as not to disturb the delicate positioning of the tea towel. I believe there are websites that may help me.

The generous sun is flooding through the window here. I wouldn’t fancy being confined indoors in a place where you never see the sun, especially not where it’s a long and peopled journey to the ground. I suspect that this pandemic, like everything else, is disproportionately bad for people in poverty.

God give help, we pray,
to everyone who is feeling the strain
of long spells indoors,
especially those a long way from
hills, or rivers, or anything green,
children getting increasingly bored
and those who care for them,
people feeling rising frustration in their lives,
people living in fear of domestic violence.
God, we pray for an end to the pain.

We pray for those who have no indoors,
no home but the streets,
living in discomfort, danger and fear.
Take away the fear, we pray,
and the causes of fear.

Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayer.

No, not what you were thinking. This Sunday coming is the nearest to Workers’ Memorial Day on the 28th April.

God of love,
we remember today all those who have died
in accidents at work,
or because of diseases contracted at work.
We remember particularly
those who have died with COVID-19,
medical workers, carers, bus drivers,
shop workers and many many others;
each one a son or daughter,
husband or wife, father or mother,
grandparent.

In the silence, we remember them…
…with thankful and grieving hearts,
we remember them.

We pray about the future,
and ask that everyone who sets off for work
may come home again safe and healthy.
Strengthen those who seek to make the work place a safe place.
Give wisdom and a care for human life to all.

And in these days where it’s hard to know what to do for the best,
and safety equipment is hard to come by,
then God strengthen us all,
and heal the rifts in our relating
which are exposed in times of difficulty.

Lord, in your mercy
hear our prayer.

I realise I ought to know better, but I really am not sure what a sacrament is. A look at the Wikipedia page didn’t really help me. It’s something like a material way through which we can know the holy amazingness of God. But that can’t be it, because if that were it, then every word of grace, every deed of love would be a sacrament, and perhaps for some, a sacrament more powerful than a costume drama at the front of church.

Next Sunday’s Lectionary passage includes the story from the Road to Emmaus. If anything is a sacrament, what we read about in this story is. Two disciples invite a stranger on the road to come in for a meal – and in that meal they discover the Lord Jesus. The thing about this communion-meal is its randomness. It is not planned. It is not part of institutional life. It just happens. If anything, it is part of daily life. It has more in common with Jesus’ injunction in 1 Corinthians 11:25, “In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’” than a pre-planned ritual has. The cynical side of me wonders if the way the eucharist has developed (in all those denominations which use it) is related to cementing the power of the institution. Remember the lingering fear of the word, “excommunication”.

And yet… And yet, what churches do to remember the Last Supper is still powerful and deeply meaningful for millions of people, including me. From those little individual cups of non-alcoholic red stuff, to the precious chalice in the hands of someone with elaborate robes, and so on – all these things are reminders, and more, of the Son of God’s last meal with his mates, of his execution, of his risen life among the community.

Maybe if I’d paid more attention to what I was taught in college, I’d’ve been able to tie this stuff down – but I suspect that in the end, it can’t be tied down.

Another day of experimentation today. Although my droplets are almost certainly benign, I still feel I ought to protect other people from them, just in case. So I wrapped a woolly scarf around my face. This was not as good as the tea towel: it was hard to keep it in place, and when I got home I had to pick fluff out of my beard for a while. Also I didn’t want the extra complication of specs, so I left them at home – which is probably not a good idea.

I’ve tried going for a little walk with a tea cloth. It just about reaches. It is surprisingly smelly and not very porous. When I breathe hard, like uphill, the air squishes out in streams around the edges. However, I’m pretty sure that the ballistic efficiency is much less than with an unguarded face … so something like this is worth persisting with.

It’s a nice morning too, fair and breezy. I’ll not be worshipping with the church this morning, as I’m still a bit low on remaining broadband allowance.

God of love,
we pray that all people who need it
will feel included in praising you…
whether they are too sick,
unconnected to the internet,
unable to master the technology,
at odds with the church they know;
may all sisters and brothers feel they are
part of the community.

Letters in the newspaper are often interesting, diverting or even thought-provoking. But they don’t always make you think again so radically as this. I have been trying to follow government advice, but most of it is based an answering the wrong question – “how do I protect myself from the virus?” This is important, true enough: but equally important, and seemingly not given so much weight, is “how do I protect others from me?”. So, wash your hands before you go out and after you touch your face, and yes, wear a mask. So I think I have some sort of scarfy thing upstairs that I may experiment with before I go out next. This is important, because it is, AFAIK, possible to pass the virus on when you don’t even know you’ve got it. It’s extremely unlikely I have it, but you never know. PS I also wipe the seat in a public toilet after I’ve used it (you didn’t really need to know that).

Jesus said, “…love one another as I have loved you.”

God of love
help us be more loving,
aware of the hurt and trouble
we often cause one another
and aching for a more just world;
but nevertheless committed
to love courageously,
to forgive as you do,
to dig deep
when it all seems too hard.

It is amazing what people working in the NHS, GIG, care industry and numerous other professions have done over the last few weeks. They deserve every bit of praise they can get.

There are heartwarming stories of ageing people doing amazing feats of endurance to support the NHS. And there is the Thursday clap. This is obviously a great thing, although I personally find it awkward.

But when all the fine words have been said, and all the effusive thanks has been given, I think what I’ll do is to give my vote to someone who’s actually going to look after the NHS. Don’t get me wrong: the NHS is facing unprecedented (though not completely unpredictable) stresses, and any government would find it a struggle to keep things running smoothly. But at some point, somebody is going to have to say, this is going to cost you more taxes: are you willing to pay for it? (And that goes for education, too – even more so). The ‘small state’ is completely unsuited to dealing with anything like this.

I am a bystander here. We are retired and don’t really have any role to play. We are well and haven’t had the virus. We are surrounded by hills, and an allowable short walk takes us to reservoirs or fields. There are local shops and postal options. Not everyone is so lucky. Many live in the city, lucky even to see the hills. For huge numbers of people in the UK and worldwide, this is a grim time. May God bless them.

One way or another, the sun is a brilliant source of energy. It drives the weather, so wind, waves and hydroelectric. Plants use its energy to build energy-rich compounds that we can use for food or fuel. The energy locked up underground in coal and hydrocarbons has the same ultimate source. Maybe we can cut out the middlestage and use solar cells in more places than we use them now. Cells are neither particularly cheap nor particularly efficient, (and I guess, the commercial world being what it is, that cheaper means less efficient and vice versa) … but they are being improved in both respects. Don’t say the sun never shines in northern England – it’s shining here today. Unfortunately our roof points in the wrong direction. But anyway, something for everyone to think about.

I had an early walk again this morning, to avoid meeting too many people – a couple of miles of delight before the day begins. Today there was a drone above me for a minute or two. I still feel it’s not quite right to be out at all: but I don’t think I get near enough to anyone to put their life or mine in danger.

Counterintuitively, not walking very much seems to leave me less energetic than when I was walking reasonable amounts. It’s a mood thing I guess.

God of love,
we praise and thank you
for the energy of the sun,
the way it gives us life,
the way it lights our planet
into glory
and paints the dull rock of our moon
in silver.