Contrasts

Holy Island, looking south towards Lindisfarne Castle. In the foreground sheep safely graze. Photo by Gill Henwood.

And sheep will safely graze is a good title for this photo sent to me by my friend Gill Henwood. She took it at one of my favourite places, namely The Holy Island of Lindisfarne, off the Northumbrian coast. Today it is a contrasting place being a place of Pilgrimage and a place for visitors, of which there are many. Holy Island can hold these two roles in creative tension because twice a day, thanks to the North Sea tidal waters, it becomes an Island. Those who have experienced the moment when the visitors have gone and the Island becomes truly that, will sense that the land seems to sigh deeply and take a breath. Of course, there is a third group of people for whom Lindisfarne is ‘home’. The small but dedicated folk who live on the island are its heartbeat. It is not easy to scrape a living but it is also itself a way of life.

The Island has a history steeped in the Christian faith and is rightly regarded as the Northern cradle of faith because it was here that St. Aidan of Iona, trained and then sent out missionaries to proclaim the Christian faith to the North, the Midlands, the Yorkshire hills and the coastal plain of Essex.
It has suffered much over the generations, from raiders from the Viking lands and many others. Today it is more peaceful with an abiding sense of holiness. That itself is a reminder that holiness is conferred by God on those who are steadfast in the faith. It is a gift which cannot be earned, and is given to those whose lives are steeped in love and prayer and service. Corporately, it is possible to say that this Island has achieved just that.

Gill took the photos and then pondered the contrast between Lindisfarne today and the world far away where violence has again erupted. The Contrast is between Holy Island and the Holy Land. This is her poem. [Mr G]

Contrasts…

Here where Vikings ravaged the peace of the monastic settlement

Long before a castle was fortified

Where prayer echoed the song of the larks overhead

And the hidden nesting of the Eiders quietly inconspicuous

Here there is peace again.

On a far coast, in a place of repeated conflict over millennia

People pray, fearful in the violence

O Lord have mercy upon us

Gill Henwood, Lindisfarne October 2023

Contraries

CONTRARIES

The world erupts,

burning with anger,

screaming, maiming, killing,

as humans do so well.

A blood feud.

Far away and unaware,

a swan

quiet on the water

reflects the peace

and stillness.

Silent.

Just being …

Mr G. 7^th October 2023.
The day when the conflict between Palestine and Israel
added to the world’s despair.

Swan in Hatfield Forest, National Trust, Essex.
Photograph taken by Mr. G

Hawthorn Jewels

*Photo by Gill Henwood of Hawthorn bush on Lindisfarne.*

My friend, Gill Henwood, has sent me photos of a Hawthorn bush on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne, in all its autumn finery. It is too delicious not to share it.

The Woodland Trust says that the Hawthorn has great value to wildlife.
“Common hawthorn can support hundreds of other species. It is the foodplant for caterpillars of moths, including the hawthorn, orchard ermine, pear leaf blister, rhomboid tortrix, light emerald, lackey, vapourer, fruitlet-mining tortrix, small eggar and lappet moths. Its flowers are eaten by dormice and provide nectar and pollen for bees and other pollinating insects. The haws are rich in antioxidants and are eaten by migrating birds, such as redwings, fieldfares and thrushes, as well as small mammals.
The dense, thorny foliage makes fantastic nesting shelter for many species of bird.”

Autumn dripping leaves of weary gold
Exits quietly, fading through the trees.
Hawthorn shakes her cloak of ruby fire.
Naked to the woods and twisting breeze…..
… Winter’s breath now lingers in the air.

[From a poem by, Karen Neary, Winter Song . Copyright © Karen Neary.
The full poem and others by her are to be found on the website, Poetrysoup

PoetrySoup.comhttps://www.poetrysoup.com/poems

[Mr G]

Dear Francis …

A few words to St Francis on your festival day, October 4th.

Dear Francis,
You were led from your raucousness and debauchery.
As leader of the pack,
they gathered around you, your disciples,
attracted by a charisma that lit up their lives.
Of course, your pockets held the wealth
which made living as free spirits so easy.
You took it all for granted.
The centre of your life was within you,
focussing on that self which has ruined so many.

But another Charisma sought your energy.
Different followers waited to be your disciples.
Different values, to be ripened by true joy.
Perplexed, perhaps that you were losing direction,
uncertainty gripped that carefree heart
and nothing satisfied.

From the centre of things, you were called to the margins,
where your destiny would discover you.
Kneeling, questioningly, in the dereliction of San Damiano chapel,
you were led to examine your own crumbling life.
In the midst of your despair, Jesus spoke to you,

“Francis, rebuild my Church.”

At first, a physical task,
drawing others to your side as only you could,
but there was so much more to come.
You did not always get it right. None do.
That is why God comes among us often,
casting his grace over us, like rose petals at a wedding.

It is said that, near death, Jesus gifted you with stigmata,
scars, wounds of Christ, as marks on your own body.
But you had received these on your heart long ago,
when you walked as a companion of Jesus.
The Way of the Cross gave you Stations of prayer
by which you were able to shepherd poor, unloved,
uncared for humanity; vulnerable animals;
dancing birds, whose capricious flight was a sign of God’s joy.
And you did not forget the rich,
who more than most need to walk with you, into heaven.

[Mr G. St Francis day 2023]