Malcolm from Dream has tagged me, with the "Five things you probably didn't know about me" tag. (just as I was enjoying everyone else's secret's :-) So here we go.
1 - I'm allergic to washing up! (honestly!) I think as allergies go its quite a good one actually as its gets me out of doing the washing up if I go out. If I dip my fingers in Fariy Liquid they go all spotty and itchy. (its allergic eczema basically). The downside is that people who know me well enough throw a pair of rubber gloves in my direction and the excuse is over!
2 - My dad tells me (although I really don't remember it now) that when I was very small (2 or 3) I could recite every part in a television set including all the fiddly bits, the Cathode Ray Tube and wotnot. ( I wish I had a sample of me trying to say "cathode ray tube" at the age of 2, that'd have made a great techno track!) Anyway my dad blames himself for me getting into multimedia worship, as he used to repair TVs when I was a kid (and I used to watch).
3 - I can read Arabic letters (or at least most of them) but can't understand the words when I've done so. It comes from living in North Africa for a bit when I was 16 and having a go at reading the cornflake packets and shop signs and visiting the gulf when I was at university. (On both occasions my parents were working there and I simply tagged along for the ride). Anyway I've decided that this is a bit silly, not knowing any "proper" Arabic, so I have signed up for level 1 at the university and can now say thrilling phrases such as "that is a banana" and "my brother is called David" (actually he's my brother in law but we haven't learnt the arabic for "in law" yet). Anyway we're getting there slowly (after all, it is quite a hard language to learn to write) and we are having lots of fun in the process!
4 - When I was 4 I wanted to be a nun, and when I was 8 I wanted to be a computer programmer. So instead I became a Rev and married a computer programmer!
5 -When I was 14 I won a prize in the post office letter writing competition which was entitled " a letter to someone from another planet".I won a set of stamps and a gold plated pen and pencil set and a bit of money. My school won some money too, which meant that the year after they made everyone in the school enter! (LOL) I also wrote a book, which was really rubbish, (I think it had "suddenly" in practically every sentence) but my mum "suddenly" said you had to send in a typed manuscript to publishers for them to consider it, so at least by the time I'd typed it all up I had "suddenly" learnt how to type properly (with all ten fingers!)
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Jon Hopkins
I've just discovered Jon Hopkins music. Its beautiful blissful stuff that you can stick on in the background, and simply pray over.
He's on the itunes store if you want to listen to samples. I've bought the album Opalescent and the track Second Sense which mixes Imogen Heap singing Spem in Alium with blissful synth pads.'Can't wait to play that one in the Minster Crypt, its going to be spine tingling!
Sue.
He's on the itunes store if you want to listen to samples. I've bought the album Opalescent and the track Second Sense which mixes Imogen Heap singing Spem in Alium with blissful synth pads.'Can't wait to play that one in the Minster Crypt, its going to be spine tingling!
Sue.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Dawn of the remote
I've just treated myself to a slide changer for the computer. I think its one of those "why on earth didn't I get one earlier?" ideas.
(actually I think the reason I never got one before was I thought that they were really expensive, at least £50 or something).
My remote works with Mac and PC Powerpoint and Keynote (which is what I use) and means that I can sit myself on a beanbag anywhere i like and change the slides, or give a talk without having to worry about where my computer is sitting in relation to me. So simple, yet so efficient. It has two bits, the inner bit (which initially looks like a tongue sticking out)
pulls out and then looks like a USB pendrive. That goes into the USB slot. The other bit sits somewhere near you and you just click it and the slide changes. No wires, no mess, just nice slide changes whenever you like. Yay!
When I first bought it I had a brief "why isn't this working" moment, and then realised, I'd forgotten to put the battery in. It was hiding in another part of the packaging (oops).
Oh by the way, the one I got was called the Interlink Presentation Pilot Pro Remote and cost 23.49. Not too bad at all really!
(actually I think the reason I never got one before was I thought that they were really expensive, at least £50 or something).
My remote works with Mac and PC Powerpoint and Keynote (which is what I use) and means that I can sit myself on a beanbag anywhere i like and change the slides, or give a talk without having to worry about where my computer is sitting in relation to me. So simple, yet so efficient. It has two bits, the inner bit (which initially looks like a tongue sticking out)
pulls out and then looks like a USB pendrive. That goes into the USB slot. The other bit sits somewhere near you and you just click it and the slide changes. No wires, no mess, just nice slide changes whenever you like. Yay!
When I first bought it I had a brief "why isn't this working" moment, and then realised, I'd forgotten to put the battery in. It was hiding in another part of the packaging (oops).
Oh by the way, the one I got was called the Interlink Presentation Pilot Pro Remote and cost 23.49. Not too bad at all really!
Monday, September 25, 2006
Chatres by Night - East End of St Peter's Church
The East end of St Peter's looked pretty spectacular once it was covered by a mass of projections
Oh if only we had projectors capable of doing this sort of thing ! But it does take a phenomenal amount of money (sigh!) The list of sponsors on the hoardings outside the buildings was as long as my arm . But I was very very glad I got to see the images anyway.
They also had projections along some very small and ordinary streets. We'd be wondering along and suddenly see nights jousting on the wall, or a giant image of a lady. The moving images were the most impressive, but also the most difficult to photograph. One was like an enormous film loop on the side of one of those long French chateau-like buildings, so you'll just have to imagine what that might have been like!
Oh if only we had projectors capable of doing this sort of thing ! But it does take a phenomenal amount of money (sigh!) The list of sponsors on the hoardings outside the buildings was as long as my arm . But I was very very glad I got to see the images anyway.
They also had projections along some very small and ordinary streets. We'd be wondering along and suddenly see nights jousting on the wall, or a giant image of a lady. The moving images were the most impressive, but also the most difficult to photograph. One was like an enormous film loop on the side of one of those long French chateau-like buildings, so you'll just have to imagine what that might have been like!
St Peter's Church, Chartres.
The rest of St Peters Church was also covered in slides. They gave it this amazing jewel-box effect.
Chartres - The North Door
Here is a close up of the apostles on the North Door of Chartres cathedral. The projections were aiming to give a feel for what the statues would have looked like in the middle ages, when they were painted in bright colours.
Chatres by night
This is the West door of the Cathedral in Chartres, fairly early on in the Son et Lumiere show. By the end of the show the entire West front was covered in Stained glass, but it was acutally quite hard to photograph as it kept changing.
Chatres by night
The French do some amazing audio visual stuff which is one of the reasons why I love holidaying in France. This year we toured around France, starting at the South Atlantic coast and finishing up by
getting the ferry from Calais to Dover. But one of the highlights was Chatres by night. WOW! Not only had they covered the cathedral in images, which moved and changed, as music played in the square, but they had covered most of the town with them too! There must have been about ten different buildings with projections on them, and all of them were completely amazing! So here follow some highlights of the Chatres illuminations, which just proves what is possible with a big budget and a huge amount of sponsorship!
getting the ferry from Calais to Dover. But one of the highlights was Chatres by night. WOW! Not only had they covered the cathedral in images, which moved and changed, as music played in the square, but they had covered most of the town with them too! There must have been about ten different buildings with projections on them, and all of them were completely amazing! So here follow some highlights of the Chatres illuminations, which just proves what is possible with a big budget and a huge amount of sponsorship!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Fading
I expect this piece, for some, is teaching grannies how to suck eggs, but I thought I'd mention it anyway, as I noticed that
it keeps happening at events and services. Notably last week, but I shan't tell you where, that would be mean.
A piece of music I heard at a recent service reminded me of something simple which really improves things for me. As the title says, Fading. While I was at college lots of people used to play music while we were waiting for morning
prayer to begin. Then when things were about to start the music stopped "whap!" But it doesn't have to be like that.
Anyway all you have to do to avoid those nasty little "whap!" noises is turn the volume down gently before pressing stop and hey presto! a lovely fade. Then you can always fade the next bit of music up. Sometimes some of the simplest things are the most effective ones.
Of course its even better if you can find a little mixer and mix one piece of music into another, but if not a good old fade will
cover any abrupt changes nicely.
it keeps happening at events and services. Notably last week, but I shan't tell you where, that would be mean.
A piece of music I heard at a recent service reminded me of something simple which really improves things for me. As the title says, Fading. While I was at college lots of people used to play music while we were waiting for morning
prayer to begin. Then when things were about to start the music stopped "whap!" But it doesn't have to be like that.
Anyway all you have to do to avoid those nasty little "whap!" noises is turn the volume down gently before pressing stop and hey presto! a lovely fade. Then you can always fade the next bit of music up. Sometimes some of the simplest things are the most effective ones.
Of course its even better if you can find a little mixer and mix one piece of music into another, but if not a good old fade will
cover any abrupt changes nicely.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Boxes
The theme of Sunday's service was prejudice and the values we use to put other people into boxes. We had four boxes at the front of the church. A shocking pink box with a bow on it, a carved box with gold on it, a blue businesslike box and an old scrappy cardboard box. The floor of the church had a pile of pictures in the centre of it, which had been taken from magazines.
People were invited to place some pictures into the boxes that they thought they might fit in, according to any criteria they wished really. Perhaps according to the way they say them , or according to the way society saw them. So we were judging by first impressions
Later in the service we opened the boxes and put the pictures near each box, so that people could see which pictures were by which boxes....
then we prayed the following prayer.
leader: We pray for those we put in a nice box,
the A list celebrities,
the idols,
those who are given the Star treatment,
those who we put on pedestals,
who find it hard to live up
to our labels and expectations.
All: Jesus Christ
The only true Superstar
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with the star-treatment
The paparrazi, the pressure.
Help them to know,
That you can see them warts and all.
And love them for who they truly are
Not who they pretend to be.
leader: We pray for those we put in a scrappy box.
Those trapped in crummy flats, dead-end jobs,
Those treated like dirt, because of their looks,
Their smell, their colour, their body shape
All: Jesus Christ,
Born in an outhouse,
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with their surroundings,
Who cannot cope with being treated like dirt,
Or, worse still, have never known anything better.
You promise to set the prisoners free,
Set these people free,
From our expectations,
Help them to feel loved, valued and important to You.
leader: We pray for those we put in a pretty box.
Those we judge for how they look.
Those we do not allow to fulfil their potential,
Because of their past, or their sex or sexuality.
All: Jesus Christ,
Who treated women as equals,
Who ate with prostitutes and swindlers
And gave us all a new start.
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with others prejudice
And those who say "you can't do that"
And those who cannot break free from the past.
Help them to find new opportunities,
Help them hear your call in their lives.
And help us never to stand in the way of that call.
leader: We pray for those we put in an efficient box
Those we judge by their previous successes
Those we load down with high expectations
Of future performance,
Those who never get the time
To rest and be themselves.
All: Jesus Christ,
Managing Director
Of the Company of Heaven,
Leader who serves
The Way to the Truth.
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with the pressure
Of always trying to be "top"
You promise to set the prisoners free,
Set these people free,
From their own expectations,
Help them to feel loved, valued and important to You
And that its Ok sometimes to fail.
People were invited to place some pictures into the boxes that they thought they might fit in, according to any criteria they wished really. Perhaps according to the way they say them , or according to the way society saw them. So we were judging by first impressions
Later in the service we opened the boxes and put the pictures near each box, so that people could see which pictures were by which boxes....
then we prayed the following prayer.
leader: We pray for those we put in a nice box,
the A list celebrities,
the idols,
those who are given the Star treatment,
those who we put on pedestals,
who find it hard to live up
to our labels and expectations.
All: Jesus Christ
The only true Superstar
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with the star-treatment
The paparrazi, the pressure.
Help them to know,
That you can see them warts and all.
And love them for who they truly are
Not who they pretend to be.
leader: We pray for those we put in a scrappy box.
Those trapped in crummy flats, dead-end jobs,
Those treated like dirt, because of their looks,
Their smell, their colour, their body shape
All: Jesus Christ,
Born in an outhouse,
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with their surroundings,
Who cannot cope with being treated like dirt,
Or, worse still, have never known anything better.
You promise to set the prisoners free,
Set these people free,
From our expectations,
Help them to feel loved, valued and important to You.
leader: We pray for those we put in a pretty box.
Those we judge for how they look.
Those we do not allow to fulfil their potential,
Because of their past, or their sex or sexuality.
All: Jesus Christ,
Who treated women as equals,
Who ate with prostitutes and swindlers
And gave us all a new start.
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with others prejudice
And those who say "you can't do that"
And those who cannot break free from the past.
Help them to find new opportunities,
Help them hear your call in their lives.
And help us never to stand in the way of that call.
leader: We pray for those we put in an efficient box
Those we judge by their previous successes
Those we load down with high expectations
Of future performance,
Those who never get the time
To rest and be themselves.
All: Jesus Christ,
Managing Director
Of the Company of Heaven,
Leader who serves
The Way to the Truth.
We pray for those
Who cannot cope with the pressure
Of always trying to be "top"
You promise to set the prisoners free,
Set these people free,
From their own expectations,
Help them to feel loved, valued and important to You
And that its Ok sometimes to fail.
Monday, September 11, 2006
The Beauty of Junk
Last Monday night some Visions folks did compline for a chaplains conference over at St Johns college in York.
As the text we were given two beatitudes, "happy are the poor in spirit" and "happy are those who mourn".
So, for the creative prayer activity I scattered lots of broken, unwanted and useless things around. Old circuit boards,
and bits and pieces from our recycling box. Cans, bottles, crisp packets etc.
I was slightly worried at the start of the service that the whole thing looked a bit messy really. There was a pile of rubbish at the front of the church (even though there was supposed to be a pile of rubbish scattered at the front of the church!) The instructions on the slide, when the time came to pray, said this...
"There are various pieces of “rubbish” scattered around...Broken things and empty things.
If you wish to, light one of the candles on or in these items as a prayer
for someone who is feeling empty, broken or unwanted at the moment. "
We had tealights placed on or in the cans, and tealights in holders, placed on the more flammable, or melt-able items such as crisp packets etc which people could light as their prayer.
The thing that really struck me though was the transformation. It had been so mundane and ugly. And once the candles were lit it became so beautiful. The rubbish was truly transformed.
As the text we were given two beatitudes, "happy are the poor in spirit" and "happy are those who mourn".
So, for the creative prayer activity I scattered lots of broken, unwanted and useless things around. Old circuit boards,
and bits and pieces from our recycling box. Cans, bottles, crisp packets etc.
I was slightly worried at the start of the service that the whole thing looked a bit messy really. There was a pile of rubbish at the front of the church (even though there was supposed to be a pile of rubbish scattered at the front of the church!) The instructions on the slide, when the time came to pray, said this...
"There are various pieces of “rubbish” scattered around...Broken things and empty things.
If you wish to, light one of the candles on or in these items as a prayer
for someone who is feeling empty, broken or unwanted at the moment. "
We had tealights placed on or in the cans, and tealights in holders, placed on the more flammable, or melt-able items such as crisp packets etc which people could light as their prayer.
The thing that really struck me though was the transformation. It had been so mundane and ugly. And once the candles were lit it became so beautiful. The rubbish was truly transformed.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
The Electic Tealight (someone had to do it!)
Well sooner or later it had to happen. The advent of the electic tealight! And Habitat have come up with the goods.
They're quite sweet really in a funny sort of way. But they don't come cheap at over a pound each. (I think I saw 3 for 3.50 in the shop, but the online store seems to sell them in sixes) Anyway,they do at least come in a choice of colours, fit ordinary tealight stands, and the batteries are replaceable. And I suppse they have the added bonus that they don't burn your house down. LOL
Sorry I cant post a direct link due to the way the Habitat site is structured, but go to Habitat.net and check out 979695 TEE
They're quite sweet really in a funny sort of way. But they don't come cheap at over a pound each. (I think I saw 3 for 3.50 in the shop, but the online store seems to sell them in sixes) Anyway,they do at least come in a choice of colours, fit ordinary tealight stands, and the batteries are replaceable. And I suppse they have the added bonus that they don't burn your house down. LOL
Sorry I cant post a direct link due to the way the Habitat site is structured, but go to Habitat.net and check out 979695 TEE
Monday, April 03, 2006
Musical Discoveries
Lately I've been looking out for some new tunes and made a couple of discoveries. A lot of the time, with chillout music or listening techno or whatever, some tracks are good and some you could never use in a million years. Which means that you can't just stick an album on and leave it running without something annoying happening after a while. But I've recently discovered two artists who do such good stuff that you can use most of what they produce. Ulrich Schnauss and Bluetech both do some wonderfully blissful electronic listening music that kind of burbles along in the background in a very inoffensive but nice way. I really really like their stuff! You can have a listen to stuff from both of them on the itunes site, and Ulrich Schnauss also has some free downloads on his own site. Cool tunes!
Sue.
Sue.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Create Your Own Desert!
This is a prayer idea that I came up with the other week for the beginning of Lent. I quite liked it, so I'm sharing it with you.
You will need:
Some sandpaper (we cut up big sheets into 6 pieces that you could write on the back of and roll up)
You may also need some stickers to stick onto the back of the sand paper (or paper and pritt) if there is lots
of writing on that side, so that you have space to write your own stuff.
Small rubber bands (we didn't discover this till afterwards) . We tried taping them together but then they come undone...
oops! (which just proves that testing creative prayer ideas first is always a good idea)
These are the instructions we put on the slide.
---------------------------------------------
Lent, like new year, is a time when we can make resolutions.
We can use it as a chance to get closer to God. Like Jesus
did when he was in the desert.
If you wish, think of something you might like to do this Lent.
Spending more time with God?
Taking up some new practice? Doing something to help someone else?
Taking “time-out” from something you feel is getting in the way?
Then write your resolution or resolutions on the back of the sandpaper.
Roll the paper into a tube, and fasten with a rubber-band to make a kind of sculpture.
Put your initials somewhere on the outside so you can recognise yours later.
Then place near the communion table as a sign that you are offering that thing to God.
At the end of the service you can collect your desert sculpture and take it home
to place somewhere as a reminder to yourself of your resolutions.
You will need:
Some sandpaper (we cut up big sheets into 6 pieces that you could write on the back of and roll up)
You may also need some stickers to stick onto the back of the sand paper (or paper and pritt) if there is lots
of writing on that side, so that you have space to write your own stuff.
Small rubber bands (we didn't discover this till afterwards) . We tried taping them together but then they come undone...
oops! (which just proves that testing creative prayer ideas first is always a good idea)
These are the instructions we put on the slide.
---------------------------------------------
Lent, like new year, is a time when we can make resolutions.
We can use it as a chance to get closer to God. Like Jesus
did when he was in the desert.
If you wish, think of something you might like to do this Lent.
Spending more time with God?
Taking up some new practice? Doing something to help someone else?
Taking “time-out” from something you feel is getting in the way?
Then write your resolution or resolutions on the back of the sandpaper.
Roll the paper into a tube, and fasten with a rubber-band to make a kind of sculpture.
Put your initials somewhere on the outside so you can recognise yours later.
Then place near the communion table as a sign that you are offering that thing to God.
At the end of the service you can collect your desert sculpture and take it home
to place somewhere as a reminder to yourself of your resolutions.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Completely brilliant projector stand idea!
I discovered a new idea that I really like the other day. We were doing the Visuals for the XL and XS youth events in York minster when I was after a stand to put our video projector on. All ours were in use in other places in the building. Anyway, Phil then offered me his stands. They are completely brilliant!
Basically he has taken his old Bose speaker Stands, which are about 2 metres high, and cut two pieces of chipboard with bolts in to bolt onto the top of the stand to make a solid shelf. What he has ended up with is a really high stand, which is tall enough to be well out of the way of anyone's head, which is incredibly easy to transport as it folds up like an umbrella. What a completely brilliant idea (I want one! I really really want one!)
Sue.
Basically he has taken his old Bose speaker Stands, which are about 2 metres high, and cut two pieces of chipboard with bolts in to bolt onto the top of the stand to make a solid shelf. What he has ended up with is a really high stand, which is tall enough to be well out of the way of anyone's head, which is incredibly easy to transport as it folds up like an umbrella. What a completely brilliant idea (I want one! I really really want one!)
Sue.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Simeon's Story.
This is adapted from a piece called "waiting" which appeared in Multi-Sensory Church. In the "waiting" piece I compared Simeon's wait to Daniel's wait, but it was a bit shorter than this. Since going to Jerusalem, and seeing reconstructions of what the temple looked like, and visiting the mount myself I felt more able to fill in the details that had been missing in the earlier work. So here follows Simeon's story, based on Luke 2:22-40 with a bit more descriptive detail than in the past!
Simeon's Story.
------------
I've waited. I can't tell you exactly how long. The days ran into months and the months ran into years. And as for the years, well, there were many of them. I have seen many a winter turn into a spring, and a spring turn into a baking summer. And yet I still wait.
Waiting is hard.
Waiting for something when you don't even know when its coming is even harder. And waiting for a promise that some people think is ridiculous; when people stare at you strangely when you mention it, or laugh in your face, is the hardest thing of all. Yet still I wait, and hold onto the promise that I was given.
Shall I tell you my story? It all began such a long time ago. My name is Simeon, and one night, when I was young, something incredible happened, somehow, in a way I cannot really explain, God touched me. It was like suddenly having the lights switched on in your life, after an eternity of groping around in the darkness. It was like the coming of the dawn. It was like suddenly falling in love. It was like...well it was like a thousand birthdays rolled into one. But that night God gave me a promise.
The promise was that I would not die before I saw the Messiah, the Christ himself, in the flesh. Which meant, of course, that it must be soon. That our liberation was coming soon. For how long could I live for?
Ten, twenty, thirty years? Fourty? Fifty? Not many of us got much further than that. But I was young. I couldn't imagine what it would like to even be twenty-five. And I was full of the excitement of a promise newly-given. Each morning after that I awoke and sprang out of bed full of excitement, wondering if this was the day;
But since then it has been hard. I soon gave up springing out of bed, as each evening came, filled with disappointment and impatience. Now I have lived a whole lifetime longing to see the promise come true. I had my fiftieth brithday an age ago. Practically half a lifetime. All my friends have gone, and I am alone in my waiting. Sometimes wondering if I must have dreamed it but knowing, deep down inside, that I must continue my search, continue my waiting. When I climb up the many stairs, with my knees shouting and complaining, to the temple I scan every face, to look for the One I long to see, but somehow I know they won't be there. For over time I have realised, after a lot of thinking and crying and screaming with impatience, that I will probably know where to look before I even turn my head.
And so we come to this morning. Today I have an inexplicable longing to visit the temple. It's almost like an invisible string is pulling me. And I do wonder if today really is the day, I am getting so old now that I cannot really imagine going on much longer. Soon I won't be able to make it up the stairs at all. They will have to carry me there! I throw on my coat, perhaps over-hastily for my age, and make the journey across the city and up the hill to the temple courts.
I arrive at the temple. Vast, colonnades and open space, column and columns and far too many stairs. I see hustle and bustle, shouting, singing, and excitement. Yet I feel compelled to go up a different staircase to my usual one. And in the fresh morning air and dappled sunshine the queues are already long for the sacrifices, couples queing in the cold morning shadows.
There are many young boys being dedicated to God today. But then as I glance at a couple standing at the front of the line with a young baby, something happens to me. I cannot stop staring at them, and I feel almost as if, at that moment, time has stopped. The rest of the world almost doesn't exist. I move over to them, as fast as my old legs can carry me, more like a hobble than a run, and I ask if I can hold the child in my arms. His mother is so young, but she smiles at me proudly and gives me her baby. I pull the blankets away from his face and stare down. And I know. Deep down, in the core of my being. I know that this IS the Christ, and my wait is over.
I hold the child, and he gurgles and dribbles on my clothes helplessly. Yet in that gesture I sense some incredible mystery. Something like the power of God is in him, but he is helpless because he chooses to be. I lift him high into the air, throw back my head and laugh, and in my laughter a prayer comes out.
"Now you can let me, your servant, go home in peace,
Just like you promised me so long ago.
For my very own eyes have seen your marvellous scheme.
Salvation itself,
Held in the tiny fingers of a baby's hand.
The plans you have made in public
For the whole world to see.
A light that will shine
Before the strangers in far off lands.
And give fame and honour to your people,
Your precious nation of Israel."
I see his mother's eyes grow wide with wonder and her husband smile proudly and hold her close. And, as I give the baby back, I turn and bless them, but warn the mother that she has heartbreak ahead. For that child will strip away the secrecy from many people's hearts and they will not like being exposed. A day will come when she will feel stabbed to the heart. And I wish it were not so, but some things just have to happen.
Finally I say my goodbyes and sit and simply watch the world go by.
But one particular part of the world. I watch the young couple give the offerings to the priest. I watch the propetess Anna, singing praises to God over them, as if they were prophets or kings and I simly smile.Then I watch them walk away from the temple, disappearing through the archway, I watch them until they are small dots down at the bottom of the staircase, and as they disappear and merge with the crowds below, I know that I can finally rest. The Christ has come. The Christ has merged with us, become part of our crowds, and now I can let go, knowing the promise has come true, and all the other promises will soon come true as well.
Simeon's Story.
------------
I've waited. I can't tell you exactly how long. The days ran into months and the months ran into years. And as for the years, well, there were many of them. I have seen many a winter turn into a spring, and a spring turn into a baking summer. And yet I still wait.
Waiting is hard.
Waiting for something when you don't even know when its coming is even harder. And waiting for a promise that some people think is ridiculous; when people stare at you strangely when you mention it, or laugh in your face, is the hardest thing of all. Yet still I wait, and hold onto the promise that I was given.
Shall I tell you my story? It all began such a long time ago. My name is Simeon, and one night, when I was young, something incredible happened, somehow, in a way I cannot really explain, God touched me. It was like suddenly having the lights switched on in your life, after an eternity of groping around in the darkness. It was like the coming of the dawn. It was like suddenly falling in love. It was like...well it was like a thousand birthdays rolled into one. But that night God gave me a promise.
The promise was that I would not die before I saw the Messiah, the Christ himself, in the flesh. Which meant, of course, that it must be soon. That our liberation was coming soon. For how long could I live for?
Ten, twenty, thirty years? Fourty? Fifty? Not many of us got much further than that. But I was young. I couldn't imagine what it would like to even be twenty-five. And I was full of the excitement of a promise newly-given. Each morning after that I awoke and sprang out of bed full of excitement, wondering if this was the day;
But since then it has been hard. I soon gave up springing out of bed, as each evening came, filled with disappointment and impatience. Now I have lived a whole lifetime longing to see the promise come true. I had my fiftieth brithday an age ago. Practically half a lifetime. All my friends have gone, and I am alone in my waiting. Sometimes wondering if I must have dreamed it but knowing, deep down inside, that I must continue my search, continue my waiting. When I climb up the many stairs, with my knees shouting and complaining, to the temple I scan every face, to look for the One I long to see, but somehow I know they won't be there. For over time I have realised, after a lot of thinking and crying and screaming with impatience, that I will probably know where to look before I even turn my head.
And so we come to this morning. Today I have an inexplicable longing to visit the temple. It's almost like an invisible string is pulling me. And I do wonder if today really is the day, I am getting so old now that I cannot really imagine going on much longer. Soon I won't be able to make it up the stairs at all. They will have to carry me there! I throw on my coat, perhaps over-hastily for my age, and make the journey across the city and up the hill to the temple courts.
I arrive at the temple. Vast, colonnades and open space, column and columns and far too many stairs. I see hustle and bustle, shouting, singing, and excitement. Yet I feel compelled to go up a different staircase to my usual one. And in the fresh morning air and dappled sunshine the queues are already long for the sacrifices, couples queing in the cold morning shadows.
There are many young boys being dedicated to God today. But then as I glance at a couple standing at the front of the line with a young baby, something happens to me. I cannot stop staring at them, and I feel almost as if, at that moment, time has stopped. The rest of the world almost doesn't exist. I move over to them, as fast as my old legs can carry me, more like a hobble than a run, and I ask if I can hold the child in my arms. His mother is so young, but she smiles at me proudly and gives me her baby. I pull the blankets away from his face and stare down. And I know. Deep down, in the core of my being. I know that this IS the Christ, and my wait is over.
I hold the child, and he gurgles and dribbles on my clothes helplessly. Yet in that gesture I sense some incredible mystery. Something like the power of God is in him, but he is helpless because he chooses to be. I lift him high into the air, throw back my head and laugh, and in my laughter a prayer comes out.
"Now you can let me, your servant, go home in peace,
Just like you promised me so long ago.
For my very own eyes have seen your marvellous scheme.
Salvation itself,
Held in the tiny fingers of a baby's hand.
The plans you have made in public
For the whole world to see.
A light that will shine
Before the strangers in far off lands.
And give fame and honour to your people,
Your precious nation of Israel."
I see his mother's eyes grow wide with wonder and her husband smile proudly and hold her close. And, as I give the baby back, I turn and bless them, but warn the mother that she has heartbreak ahead. For that child will strip away the secrecy from many people's hearts and they will not like being exposed. A day will come when she will feel stabbed to the heart. And I wish it were not so, but some things just have to happen.
Finally I say my goodbyes and sit and simply watch the world go by.
But one particular part of the world. I watch the young couple give the offerings to the priest. I watch the propetess Anna, singing praises to God over them, as if they were prophets or kings and I simly smile.Then I watch them walk away from the temple, disappearing through the archway, I watch them until they are small dots down at the bottom of the staircase, and as they disappear and merge with the crowds below, I know that I can finally rest. The Christ has come. The Christ has merged with us, become part of our crowds, and now I can let go, knowing the promise has come true, and all the other promises will soon come true as well.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Epiphany - The Story of a King.
We used this story at our intimate Christmas Eve Communion....enjoy!
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Now imagine. Imagine that you are a traveller. You have come a very long way. All the way from Africa, carrying a small quantity of precious, fragrant burning resin. You have ridden for hundreds of miles on horseback till your thighs are aching and sore, you have travelled on foot too, till your back aches and your feet throb. Sometimes the territory was a little too forbidding or a little too steep to stay mounted. You are now in a strange country, and here it is night, and the nights are cold.
For as you began to climb higher into the hills, the temperature began to drop. It feels like you are on the roof of the world here and although it is pleasantly hot at noon, at night it is much colder than you have ever known it. There is frost on the ground. You have heard tales of this white powder that covers the sand where the dew has dropped, but noone has ever told you what it felt like before.
-how it bites at your fingers,
- how the cold wind cuts into your face.
- how your knees ache with the cold in the middle of the night with only a flimsy tent to protect you.
You wrap your thick, woolen travelling cloak tighter around you and you look for the place you are searching for. You feel scared and lost. Very lost. Although you have travelling companions and a servant nearby, you know how vulnerable you are in a strange place, with different customs, and this place is under military rule. Armies have been marching past you at regular intervals on the journey.
You hear jeers and shouts from cohorts of passing troops at times, and
the fear is always at the back of you and your companions minds. What if they turned on us? We could never fight against them, there are too many of them. But so far, they never have turned on you. Their commanding officers reigned them in, and told them to march faster. They disappeared over the horizon, the soles of their boots drumming rhythmically into the road.
The fear stayed, deep-down though. And the despair too and the tiny voice inside telling you that you must be crazy for leaving everything you know behind you, just to search.
Because you *are* searching - looking for a new born king. Looking for some answers in life too.
Yet the obvious place to look for a king is in a palace .
But the only palace near this place had no children crying in it. It contained only a bad tempered ruler, who you were afraid would
murder you on the spot, and a few local priests of the ancient and complex religion they follow in these parts. These holy-men directed you six miles to the South. But you aren’t really sure who you can trust. The king who asks you to report back to him with the cold-steel of a threat in his voice, or the priests who consult their ancient scriptures and give the name of a tiny hamlet miles away from anywhere important.
Your confusion mounts... and the black pit of fear in your stomach.
Was this long journey all for nothing?
And now you reach the village. Someone has scrawled the name of the place on a wooden post near a watering trough. The place is riddled with caves, like a giant anthill. And you begin to wonder where on earth you should be looking next. But then you gaze into the sky, and as you gaze the starlight seems to crystallize through the freezing air, pointing the way to one cave in particular, with an old family home leaning crookedly against it, like the cave has become the spare room or the granny flat for the unwanted guests and the pet goat.
It is about as far removed from a palace as you could wish. Deeply deeply ordinary. Yet something inside you makes you want to look further. You lift the latch. And smell, not goat dung, but something animal all the same, a cow, and the remains of whatever the cow had for breakfast. The ripe smell makes you cover your face at first.
But then you look around. And see a scrubbed corner. And in the scrubbed corner a woman is lying on a pile of staw. She is pale, as if she has been bleeding. She looks as if she has recently been through a great ordeal. And then you see the man. He is much older than her, and he is busy propping the woman up with piles of straw and trying to persuade her to drink some wine from a goatskin he is holding.
You hail him in your native tongue. He looks puzzled. You remember just how far you are from home so you try again, this time in the rough traders Greek you have picked up over the years. This time he replies, falteringly, trying to find some words. “Hail stranger, come in.”
You ask. “I have come from far away. I am looking for a baby king.”
He points to a feeding trough, which puzzles you at first. Perhaps he is offering food for the horses. Then you peer inside and you are shocked.
A baby. He is lying, newborn by the looks of him, too purple and wrinked to be any older than a few hours, tiny and fragile, wrapped in bands of cloth that are wound around and around, as the Egyptians do with their princes before they bury them. You stare straight into the baby’s eyes, and the baby seems to stare at you, in an unfocused kind of way. You move closer, so you can see each other more clearly. You feel moved to talk to this child. What do you say? ........................................................
Then the baby seems to want to communicate back. Not in speech, for he has no speech as yet, but in the way that he looks, his position. His eyes bore a message into your soul.
What does he seem to be saying to you...........
And now you feel compelled to give the child a gift. You have brought frankinsence from your home country for him, but you also want to give him something else. What gift do you want to give him now, a personal gift between you and him that noone else can see.................
Your companions come in too. They also pay their respects and give their gifts, and then you leave, after a brief conversation, filled with the halting phrases provided by the language barrier and both your lack of vocab. You are aware that something tremendously important has passed, but you are also aware that it will take time to process this. You sit and think for a while, about what this can all mean, about the next step.....
And then you hear singing, strange, ghostly music, that seems to come from the clouds and the frosty air itself. It sounds like the cross between a song of joy and a lullaby.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Now imagine. Imagine that you are a traveller. You have come a very long way. All the way from Africa, carrying a small quantity of precious, fragrant burning resin. You have ridden for hundreds of miles on horseback till your thighs are aching and sore, you have travelled on foot too, till your back aches and your feet throb. Sometimes the territory was a little too forbidding or a little too steep to stay mounted. You are now in a strange country, and here it is night, and the nights are cold.
For as you began to climb higher into the hills, the temperature began to drop. It feels like you are on the roof of the world here and although it is pleasantly hot at noon, at night it is much colder than you have ever known it. There is frost on the ground. You have heard tales of this white powder that covers the sand where the dew has dropped, but noone has ever told you what it felt like before.
-how it bites at your fingers,
- how the cold wind cuts into your face.
- how your knees ache with the cold in the middle of the night with only a flimsy tent to protect you.
You wrap your thick, woolen travelling cloak tighter around you and you look for the place you are searching for. You feel scared and lost. Very lost. Although you have travelling companions and a servant nearby, you know how vulnerable you are in a strange place, with different customs, and this place is under military rule. Armies have been marching past you at regular intervals on the journey.
You hear jeers and shouts from cohorts of passing troops at times, and
the fear is always at the back of you and your companions minds. What if they turned on us? We could never fight against them, there are too many of them. But so far, they never have turned on you. Their commanding officers reigned them in, and told them to march faster. They disappeared over the horizon, the soles of their boots drumming rhythmically into the road.
The fear stayed, deep-down though. And the despair too and the tiny voice inside telling you that you must be crazy for leaving everything you know behind you, just to search.
Because you *are* searching - looking for a new born king. Looking for some answers in life too.
Yet the obvious place to look for a king is in a palace .
But the only palace near this place had no children crying in it. It contained only a bad tempered ruler, who you were afraid would
murder you on the spot, and a few local priests of the ancient and complex religion they follow in these parts. These holy-men directed you six miles to the South. But you aren’t really sure who you can trust. The king who asks you to report back to him with the cold-steel of a threat in his voice, or the priests who consult their ancient scriptures and give the name of a tiny hamlet miles away from anywhere important.
Your confusion mounts... and the black pit of fear in your stomach.
Was this long journey all for nothing?
And now you reach the village. Someone has scrawled the name of the place on a wooden post near a watering trough. The place is riddled with caves, like a giant anthill. And you begin to wonder where on earth you should be looking next. But then you gaze into the sky, and as you gaze the starlight seems to crystallize through the freezing air, pointing the way to one cave in particular, with an old family home leaning crookedly against it, like the cave has become the spare room or the granny flat for the unwanted guests and the pet goat.
It is about as far removed from a palace as you could wish. Deeply deeply ordinary. Yet something inside you makes you want to look further. You lift the latch. And smell, not goat dung, but something animal all the same, a cow, and the remains of whatever the cow had for breakfast. The ripe smell makes you cover your face at first.
But then you look around. And see a scrubbed corner. And in the scrubbed corner a woman is lying on a pile of staw. She is pale, as if she has been bleeding. She looks as if she has recently been through a great ordeal. And then you see the man. He is much older than her, and he is busy propping the woman up with piles of straw and trying to persuade her to drink some wine from a goatskin he is holding.
You hail him in your native tongue. He looks puzzled. You remember just how far you are from home so you try again, this time in the rough traders Greek you have picked up over the years. This time he replies, falteringly, trying to find some words. “Hail stranger, come in.”
You ask. “I have come from far away. I am looking for a baby king.”
He points to a feeding trough, which puzzles you at first. Perhaps he is offering food for the horses. Then you peer inside and you are shocked.
A baby. He is lying, newborn by the looks of him, too purple and wrinked to be any older than a few hours, tiny and fragile, wrapped in bands of cloth that are wound around and around, as the Egyptians do with their princes before they bury them. You stare straight into the baby’s eyes, and the baby seems to stare at you, in an unfocused kind of way. You move closer, so you can see each other more clearly. You feel moved to talk to this child. What do you say? ........................................................
Then the baby seems to want to communicate back. Not in speech, for he has no speech as yet, but in the way that he looks, his position. His eyes bore a message into your soul.
What does he seem to be saying to you...........
And now you feel compelled to give the child a gift. You have brought frankinsence from your home country for him, but you also want to give him something else. What gift do you want to give him now, a personal gift between you and him that noone else can see.................
Your companions come in too. They also pay their respects and give their gifts, and then you leave, after a brief conversation, filled with the halting phrases provided by the language barrier and both your lack of vocab. You are aware that something tremendously important has passed, but you are also aware that it will take time to process this. You sit and think for a while, about what this can all mean, about the next step.....
And then you hear singing, strange, ghostly music, that seems to come from the clouds and the frosty air itself. It sounds like the cross between a song of joy and a lullaby.
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