This photo of Tarn Hows on a misty morning, was taken by my friend, Gill Henwood. She gave it the title ‘Through a glass darkly,’ which is a quotation from verse 12 of what is probably St. Paul’s most well known writing – 1 Corinthians Chapter 13.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. (that is the King James Version. The more recent NRSV has, see in a mirror, dimly, which, to my mind is poetically is weaker.)
As I contemplated the feast day of the ‘Conversion of St. Paul,’ I found the title Gill chose, and the fascinating and rather evocative scene, kept coming back to me. I wrote this poem and tried the let the photo speak to the event I am trying to address.
It is a very amazing photo and it deserves to highlight a very amazing event.
The Conversion of Saint Paul
Brooding mist blurs edges of perception. Colours muted. A whisper of wind kisses the water, rippling on the shore of 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.
Black Beck. Lake District. A winter reflection by Gill Henwood.
A pair of Dippers are patrolling the Beck, calling as they fly individually up and down their territory. One was in the water, dipping under the surface seeking grubs. On a frosty morning the water was above freezing, still providing a late breakfast.
The low sun had warmed the mist which formed from the Beck and Esthwaite Water, clouding over the frozen earth, until light broke through.
Light and warmth, water and ice cold frost, elements of God’s glorious winterscapes.
The birds are increasing their activity but still have to shelter through the storms and survive the harsh times. The sun’s warmth promises new life, heralds the coming of Spring.
It’s only a fortnight to St Brigid’s Day! and the snowdrops are readying to open their scented upturned-lily bells.
Endure, await, take heart – the Light of the World is shining through the mists and storms…
One of the joys of having friends in the Lake District is that I am sent wonderful, scenic photographs from time to time.
Over many years I have visited, camped, trecked over hills and down a few ‘mountains, visited bookshops in Ambleside and Grasmere, where I have also partaken of the famous and delicious ginger bread. I could go on and on. More recently I have come to know something of Josephina de Vasconcellos, an amazing sculptor and her husband, the watercolourist Delmar Banner. They lived near Hill Top. Through them I have found a connection with Beatrix Potter.
But my ‘living’ connection is with my friend, Gill and Stephen and, further North, Lesley and John, and in Carlisle, my friend Michael who ministers at the Cathedral. It is through Gill’s camera eye that I am able to share the photos with you. The recent mixture of wild, snowy, frost dressed weather has provided contrasts. We are now in the thick of winter and just over halfway through January. Yet there are signs leading to expectation of new growth and new life.
Gill supplies me with reflections, notes and thoughts.
The photo above looks towards Fairfield Horseshoe on the Helvellyn range, over mist rising from Windermere and the River Rothay. In the foreground, the frosted roof of the sheep shed shelters 250 expectant ewes. Another 95 are due to join them as they prepare for lambing from 12th March. The local fell breed ewes beloved of Beatrix Potter, Herdwicks, are up on the thin grazing sheltering at night by dry stone walls, foraging in the sunlit uplands by day. Here she suggests, sheep may safely graze, the ‘Herdies’ are sheltering and nibbling their way down the slope.
There has been a recent storm. So much of nature around Tarn Hows has been battered but there is also resilience. We dare to be confident whilst woefully aware that the real damage to Nature is being done by human beings. Up in the Lakeland Hills it is easier, perhaps, to see that beauty and sustainability come at a cost, not so much to us but the struggling animal kingdom. I often hear it referred to as the ‘natural world’ (of Nature), which ironically suggests that we are the ‘unnatural’ world. I think that the way our humanity is behaving right now, that could be very true!
Storms in Nature are often followed by silence; a time of re-collection and respite. Gill talks of a ‘still small voice’, as that which surrounded Elijah on the mountain. (1 Kings 11;9-13) She calls it The Shekinah – the Glory – of the Lord – as cloud over Hellvellyn ridge.
Frost and snow, wind and cloud, rain and sunshine, air and life. New growth bringing new hope. Gratitude, Thankfulness . Dependence on God. Love assured. Kindness lived out in hearts warmed by grace.
Allowing God to See Us A thought on St Antony’s Day. (January 17th)
I was having a conversation with somebody recently and we got onto relationships and, in particular, our relationship with God. This led us to thinking about what form our prayer with God takes and how, so often, it’s about just talking and asking, interceding for others and generally verbal. Many of us aren’t all that good about silent praying which takes the form of meditation or contemplation. In our conversation, we thought that part of the reason why we might shy away from non-verbal prayer is because it involves us in listening rather than talking and we don’t always want to hear what God is saying to us.
In what is known as the Desert Tradition of Prayer there is a lot of wisdom about how we should approach God and about how we develop our relationship with Him. This wisdom comes to us through stories about the holy men and women who, when Christianity began to be ‘respectable’, took themselves off into the desert to be alone with God. This ‘aloneness wasn’t easy – they weren’t, as it were, getting away from it all for a nice rest or quiet time! Prayer for them involved struggle – first with self and then with what they knew to be demons or the mischief of the devil. Only through this struggle did they come to recognize the pureness of God’s voice, or presence.
It’s rather like the struggle Elijah had on the mountain after he fled away from King Ahab after his wife Jezebel stirred up trouble for him – (see1 Kings 19). Elijah went into the wilderness, felt sorry for himself, was touched by an angel and then went off to hide in the mountains. Here God looked for him but there was a cacophony of noise – whirlwind, earthquake fire after which the stillness, the silence through which Elijah heard the voice of God speaking to him. This was, in a similar way, the experience of the Desert Fathers and Mothers and it is their teaching that can help us to go beyond words in our praying.
An experience I had during a stay at a convent in Oxford is a kind of illustration of this. I was in my room reading some of the sayings of the Desert Fathers and I read of three men who used to visit St. Antony of Egypt. They came every year, and two of them used to bombard Antony with spiritual questions. The other, younger man, simply sat in silence. This went on for a number of years until, eventually, Antony said to the younger man, “How is it that you come with these two every year and they ask me lots of questions but you never ask anything?” The young man replied, simply, “It is enough for me to see you Father.”
Soon after reading this, I went to the chapel to join the nuns for Compline, the Night prayer of the Church. I was a little early and the place was in complete darkness – I could just make out the dark shape of several nuns kneeling in prayer. There was just one light – almost a pinprick – the lamp burning in front of the Blessed Sacrament. And as I sat looking at the light the thought kept recurring: “It is enough for me to see you, Father.”
I would like this to be my focus for the year ahead, and maybe yours too – that we must grow in the kind of prayer which is about looking at God and being still, just letting his gaze of love fall on us. There are too many strident and demonic voices at looses in our world today. Too much talking and acting as if people not God, nor the rest of His beautiful creation matter.
If we listen to God and to each other with generosity and kindness we will slowly change our world and each other. We should place ourselves often in God’s presence so that he can really see us and we Him. .He has things to show us and, as the young man who visited St Antony recognized, ‘it is enough’. .
[Mr G]
Let us enter into the cell which is our hearts, where God dwells within. Be still and know that He is God Enter into the chamber of your heart. There is the kingdom of God, in the utter stillness within. From that depth comes human joy; human love; human activity. Relax into the assurance of His love, His care; He has provided for every moment. Be still and know that He is God.
Mr G's Ponderings 