Author: mrgsponderings

Salvation ~ a Candlemas tale

SALVATION ~ a Candlemas tale.

[St Luke 2:28-40]

Joshua and I, Ahuz*, are doorkeepers of the Temple.
We greet people and try to make them welcome.
There are visitors and strangers and, of course, we have our regulars.
Like that old man over by the corner of sacrifice.
We don’t know where he lives but it must be nearby.
He’s always here as soon as the doors are open.

Then there’s Anna who seems to live in the Temple, in a dark, quiet place.
We know her because she has good connections.
She comes from the tribe of Asher and she’s the daughter of Phanuel and she’s a prophet, they say.

We’ve found out that the old man is called Simeon.
He has a stillness about him which suggests that he’s a man of prayer.
He behaves as if he loves God, which is more than most who come here!
Others are more like politicians, self-seekers, people who believe not in God but in their own religious importance.

Old Simeon has just noticed me and he smiles and bows towards me, making me feel human, wanted, needed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the daughter of Phanuel who comes and grasps my cold hands and rubs them warm. It’s a kind gesture of gratitude for letting her wait.

I don’t really know what they are both waiting for but there is always an expectation about them.
I once asked the old man, Simeon, “What are you doing here? What are you waiting for?”
“Salvation”, he said quietly, “and a peaceful death.”

‘Salvation’, isn’t a word we hear in the Temple these days!
That’s what Joshua said, when I told him. “I reckon they’re on a fool’s errand.”
“Maybe”, I tell him, “but I’m not so sure. There’s a holiness about him and Anna, too. There’s wisdom as well, without any trace of self-boasting. They know things we don’t.”
Joshua laughed. “I’ve told you, they’re wasting precious time. They haven’t much left.”

Then, it happened. A young woman and a caring man came into the Temple, carrying a little vulnerable baby.  Purification. It’s like a thanksgiving after childbirth and an act of dedication.
So they made their offering to God and then Simeon shuffled to stand next to them. Anna drew near as well. Interesting! Is this what they were waiting for? Odd, though. How could a baby bring Salvation and hope?

Simeon took the child into his arms and praised God.
I quietly moved towards them, just as the old man began to speak.  “…let me go in peace…I have seen your Salvation…” Love shone in his eyes and in Anna, too.
I couldn’t make sense of it. How could a mere child be God’s fulfilment?
Simeon spoke again of the child, who would be God’s light not only to us, the Jewish people, but also to Gentiles – non-Jews.
You could see that the young couple were as perplexed as I was, but there was more. It was like a prophecy, about a future event, something about conflict the child would cause, some choosing for him, others against him. He would see into every heart; speaking of which, the young lady would also have her heart pierced as if by a sword. It would, without doubt, be a sword of pain and sadness but she seemed to smile a little as if she knew something we didn’t.
Why didn’t Simeon’s word worry her? Nothing would break up her serenity. It was as if she already seemed to live with God.

Then Anna took the child from Simeon’s hands and held him close, cherishing the one of  whom the prophets had spoken. They called him ‘The Messiah’ but this child was called, Jesus.
Where they the same? Was he the one for whom, in the depths of all our hearts we too have been waiting?

For a moment, as we all stood facing the child, the Temple was filled with silence, but it was such a stillness that it felt as though it trembled with the very breath of God.

Salvation had come to the Temple that day. I, Ahuv*, found it in that little child and, like myriads who came to recognize him, I was changed and loved and saved!

[Mr G. Candlemass 2025]

*Ahuv translates as “being loved” or “beloved.” The word ahuv comes from the Hebrew root aleph-hei-vet, which means, “to love.”

Holocaust – a story about forgiveness

Peacock Butterfly on thistle. photo by The Revd Lynn Hurry

Striving to forgive

Dr ELISABETH KUBLER-ROSS , a Swiss-born psychiatrist, who died in 2004, was renowned for her pioneering work on Death & Dying including identifying the stages of grief. She was also influential, with others, in the establishment of the hospice movement caring for dying children.
It may be that a profound influence for the development of this work began in 1946 when she visited a concentration camp in Maidanek, in Poland, where she met a young woman whose story affected her greatly.

On this National Holocaust Day 2025, the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, her story of that meeting is best told in her own words

“It started in Maidanek, in a concentration camp, where I tried to see how children had gone into the gas chambers after having lost their families, their homes, their schools and everything.
The walls in the camp were filled with pictures of butterflies, drawn by these children. It was incomprehensible to me. Thousands of children going into the gas chamber, and this is the message they leave behind–a butterfly. That was really the beginning.

In this concentration camp there was a Jewish girl, and she watched me.
I hope you understand, I was a very young kid naturally, who hadn’t gone through any windstorms in life. When you grow up in Switzerland, there is no race problem, no poverty, no unemployment, no slums, no nothing. And I went right into the nightmare of postwar Europe.
So I asked her, how can men and women, like you and I, kill hundreds and thousands of innocent children, and the same day they do that, day after day, they worry about their own child at home who has chicken pox. It just didn’t compute in my brain, you know, being very innocent and ignorant.
This young woman had lost all her brothers and sisters, parents and grandparents in a gas chamber. She was the last one they tried to squash in, and there wasn’t room for one more person, so they pulled her out.
What she didn’t understand was that she had already been crossed off the list of the living. They never got back to her. She spent the rest of the war years in this concentration camp swearing that she would stay alive to tell the world about all the atrocities that she witnessed.
When the people came to liberate the camp, she said to herself, “Oh my God, if I spend the rest of my life telling about all these horrible things, I would not be any better than Hitler himself.
I would plant seeds of hate and negativity.”
She made at that moment a promise to whoever she talked to, God presumably, that she would stay in the concentration camp until she could learn to forgive even a Hitler. When she had learned that lesson, then she would be worthy of leaving.
Do you understand that? The last thing she said to me was, “If you would only know that there is a Hitler in every human being!” If we can acknowledge that Hitler and get rid of it, she said, we could then become like, what we now would say is, Mother Theresa.”

May that young lady’s story help us to hear a message we need to learn and to give thanks that her story led to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross to pioneer palliative care for suffering children.

Emerging Love

Hawkshead Church in early morning mist. Photo by Gill Henwood.

This photo was taken by my friend, Gill Henwood and is of Hawkshead Church emerging from the morning mist.
This mist speaks to me of ‘revealing’, of something that will become clearer as the mist rises; of a beauty present but not yet fully defined.

Today is the time the Christian Church remembers the Conversion of St. Paul, the moment when all that clouded his mind and darkened his thoughts, were lifted by an encounter with the Risen Christ.
We are told of it in the Book of Acts, chapter 9 verses 1 to 19.

Paul or as he was then known, Saul, a zealous Jewish Rabbi, had made it his mission to persecute Christians, those Jews who had chosen to follow the teaching of the Apostles about Jesus. He was responsible for the death and imprisonment of many and was thus thwarting the work of proclaiming the Good News of Jesus.

Something had to be done to stop him and it was the Risen Christ who did so. As Paul travelled along the road to Damascus, the Risen Christ  appeared and light flashed around him. Paul was blinded by the light and fell to the ground. It was as if a dark mist enveloped him and in the darkness Jesus challenged him, Why are you persecuting me?’ Paul asked who he was and the revelation came to him that it was Jesus.
Paul’s heart was converted but though his eyes were opened, he could still not see. First, his spiritual blindness had to be lifted; something Jesus arranged and then Paul became the great champion of Christianity he was destined by God to be.

For me there is something autobiographical in Paul’s famous passage in his first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 13.
Having written his classic definition of ‘love’, He made the point that only love will carry us through to the heart of God and that is both our faith and hope.
He referred back to his own lack of understanding of the power of God’s love (verse 8 following) and reminds us that on our spiritual journey we move, often haltingly, to a deeper knowledge of love, as God shares His divine love with us. At first our perception of God’s love is as if we are looking through a mirror dimly’ or as the King James Version puts it, through a glass darkly, but then, as God continues to reveal his Love to us, we shall one day meet Him as Love face to face.

Gill’s photograph of Hawkshead Church suggests to me another illustration of this. Our experience of God’s love for us, may seem at times to be as if we are looking through the mist of understanding. It contains all that will be revealed but we must let God work in our souls as he did in Paul’s. Then, slowly but surely, the mist will lift and the glorious vision will open our eyes and our hearts to a deep and abiding love.
In the photo we already see the promise coming clearer. The scene contains all that needs to be revealed. So that is for us. If we open ourselves to the possibility of God lifting from us all that prevents His love to flourish, then it will become a reality.

The Conversion of Saint Paul

Brooding mist 
blurs edges of perception.
Colours muted.
A whisper of wind kisses the air
rippling through the soul.
Visibility impaired,
a cloak of quietness drawn across the mind.
Stilling all movement.
Intentions passionately  held,
melt into deep darkness.
Yet this is not the cause of fearfulness 
nor of despair.
Out of the shadows,
of seeing “through a glass darkly”
there is a pinprick of growing light
which slowly, perceptively,
burns away the haze
as new vision takes shape.

A Voice,
crisp, gently directive,
unfettered by illusion,
beckons,
touching  eyes to see a wonder,
“face to face.”
The waypath is irrevocably changed.

[Mr. G. Conversion of Paul. 25th January ]