Tag: Mr G

A Red Admiral calls

*Photo of Red Admiral Butterfly resting on Cedum. (by Gill Henwood)*

My friend Gill has sent me the lovely photo of a Red Admiral Butterfly basking on a pink sedum plant.
The Cedum is noted for the bountiful provision of nectar, hence the attraction. Or is it just that?

A few years ago, a very dear friend died and within a very short period, a Peacock Butterfly had made its way into the home. It wasn’t the most seasonal time of year for such a butterfly but it stayed around.

There is a view in folklore that when someone special dies, a butterfly will come quietly to the home. It is as if the butterfly touches you with some kind of assurance that your Loved one are OK. It is usually someone who has brought passion or deep love into your life. I’ve read that such a person is often someone who knew how to live life deeply.

This fits in with the colour red. Both the Peacock butterfly and the Red Admiral have touches of Red, though to be accurate, most of the Red Admiral is black and some of the colour splashes are orange.

Because, quite often, the Read Admiral and the Peacock fly close to and even on you, people sometimes talk about being blessed. You are certainly unlikely to miss them with their striking colours! It might be also that thinking about how the Butterfly flight is linked with someone who has died, then there may well be a message to contemplate.

There is a Christian interpretation about the colour red which links life here with life in heaven. Red is the colour the Church uses to convey the dynamism of the Holy Spirit. The tongues of flames at Pentecost are, like flame itself, tinged deeply with red. This is also the colour of love and God pours His love abundantly and freely upon us. This is particularly special when we are hurting and bereft. Red also is the colour of ‘martyrdom’ , witness. That the kind of ‘witness’ that draws its strength from the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross.

Two of the things many have been doing over the past week since Our Gracious Sovereign Lady, Queen Elizabeth died is to ‘reflect’ on her guiding principles, faith and character as we ‘give gratitude’ for her life.
It is partly those two things which encourage us to pray for King Charles and all who will share with him in the true leadership of our United Kingdom and Commonwealth.

As we form our hopes for the future so we now entrust Queen Elizabeth into God’s hands,
in the certain hope that she will receive the gift of Eternal Life. That’s the kind of assurance God likes to give so maybe the Butterfly has a calling card to leave!

[Mr.G.]

Special places, Special people

*St Aidan window on Holy Island Church (St Mary the Virgin) detail.*

In many journeys of faith there are special places that have spoken to us vividly about God.
The Celtic Christians called these the ‘thin places’ where the membrane which separates our world
from the world of heaven is so thin that it is easy for heaven’s spirit to burst through,
catching us up in a breathtaking experience of God’s nearness.
For me one very special ‘thin’ place will always be the Holy Island of Lindisfarne,
off the Northumbrian coast between Bamburgh and Berwick-upon-Tweed.

It was to this island that St. Aidan came in 635AD.

He nearly didn’t come at all!
When King Oswald won back his Kingdom from the pagan king of Mercia,

he immediately sent to Iona for a monk to teach his people Christianity.
Oswald had spent many years in exile on Iona and there embraced the Christian faith.

His desire was that his people would also find a love for Christ.

The Abbot of Iona sent a monk who soon fell foul of the local people whom he branded as barbarians
and un-teachable. Returning to Iona he told his brethren what he thought and a gentle monk admonished him.
“I think, brother, that you gave them the meat of the gospel when what they needed first was milk.”

Wise words but as so often happens, those who criticise (however gently) must be prepared to serve!
Aidan was sent to Northumbria! There he set up his base in the place which, twice a day became an island—Lindisfarne.

Here he built a monastery and founded a school in which he taught 12 boys amongst whom
was the future St Chad, and his brother, St. Cedd as well as their two other brothers.

From this island a great mission began which was to take the Christian Gospel throughout the North and the Midlands and to Essex.

Because, initially, Aidan couldn’t speak the language, King Oswald went with him on his missionary journeys
to act as interpreter. One of the earliest examples of the co-operation between Church and State.

Lindisfarne remained a Christian centre until Viking raids led to the withdrawal of the monks.
Today it is once again a centre both of pilgrimage and prayer.

The local Church set up a Christian house for pilgrims known as Marygate House and it was here, in 1974 that I first came across Aidan and the spirit of the Celtic saints.
I have returned many times since and more than once I have experienced the sense of God’s nearness and presence. It truly is a ‘thin’ place.

Some, reading this will know exactly what I mean and will have their own ‘thin’ or special places (associated often with special holy Christians).
They are places where faith comes alive in a unique and special way. Such experiences carry us through the more mundane parts of our Christian journey.

What marks such places is that they are, in the words of the poet T.S.Eliot, places ‘where prayer has been valid’ – where prayer has consecrated them to God.

It strikes me that we should not have to travel far to find such places.

It is often the sincere prayer of ordinary Christians which makes a place holy.

One of my personal criteria when I visit, or worship in, a church is whether I can find God easily there.

A place where God can be found is a holy place, a thin place. It certainly needn’t be a church nor a place of special pilgrimage.

One of the holy and thin places I discovered is a slight bend in the rough hewn road which leads down from the Parish Church on Holy Island
to the shore which is opposite the crossing to Cuddy’s isles.

One day, when the island was clothed in a mist, I walked down this road and quite suddenly and totally unexpected, I found I had a companion.
I knew that it was St. Aidan whose simple presence touched me.

I knew at that moment I was on holy ground. I was at the thin place which is extraordinarily the meeting point between earth and heaven.
I can’t (and don’t want to) explain it in any other way.

Yet, whilst people like St. Aidan seem to be extra-holy, he would probably argue that he did nothing that all Christians can do,
which is to allow God to love them until they are on fire with God’s love.
That can be true for all of us and where it is then we become the ‘thin’ place where others can find God.

Photo: Gill Henwood

Aidan

You came on the flow tide
blown in, full of hope and zeal.
You carried the milk of the Gospel
but in your satchel, the firm, solid Good News waited to be heard.

The waves revealed the pilgrim way to Lindisfarne,
for its first journeying companion of Christ.
Those waves, a sign of what your Lord achieved through you:
first, lapping the hearts of those aspiring to know God,
then rushing in, hurrying to swamp the land with love:
a sea boiling with joy and hope and message.

Milk, then meat.
Quiet ripples, then mighty waters of God’s love and grace.

You were sent, Apostle to the North.
You came: a gentle breeze inspiring others,
awakening in them the wind of the Spirit.
Because of you, they stormed the Gospel message,
opening others to grace and truth,
to joy and love.

Mr G. | St Aidan’s Day, 2020

A case of Rain

When I was in infant school I starred in a small thespian production. My role was that of ‘Clerk of the Weather’ over which Ihad total control and I wore a top hat to prove it!. I was able to command thunderbolts, raindrops, wind, sunshine and so much more.

Last week in France, the dry spell, as in England, was interrupted by thunderstorms. Flooding followed before hot spells returned.

Inspired by my memories of that wonderful few moments of power, I wrote this little poem..

The Clerk of the weather has heard the peoples’ cry!
from his well stocked store house he scrabbles around
throwing thunderbolts over his shoulder
followed by a splendid light show of forked beauty
illuminating the indigo sky, crackling like witches!
His generosity knows no bounds as he adds thunderbolts and whirling winds.
Deluge after deluge of pooling rain deliciously kisses the ground.
The orchestra of thunderous drums beats across the sky
accompanied by a light show of immense power.

The Clerk laughs gleefully,
loving this reckless cacophany reaching down to crash upon the earth,
soaking into parched and thirsty ground.
But as the water floods across the baked soil the people cry;
Enough!, Too much!
Never satisfied.

The Clerk of the Weather draws breath and blows a wind so violent,
it drowns their protesting voices and buffets them into submission.
The Clerk thus reminds them just who is in charge.

Thunderstorm over Falaise. 17th August 2022

[Mr G]

Camino Communion

This poem, by my friend Piers Northam, takes its inspiration from a Pilgrimage to the Shrine of St James in Santiago de Compostela. The poem is written at the beginning of the Anglican Lambeth Conference. The Conference gathers Bishops and others from member churches of the Anglican Communion. It is a diverse group with differing opinions on many issues. It can be viewed as a ‘scattered family’ which gets together to celebrate a fellowship which is best described as Koinonia – a fellowship with each other brought together by the Holy Spirit and held by that same Spirit in a Communion with each other.

Sometimes, because of its diversity, there is disagreement and some heart-searching as a compromise is sought. Sometimes because of our separate cultures, it isn’t always possible to agree, at least not at present. The member churches seek to listen and keep talking and praying together under God’s guidance until a new understanding is reached.

Another way of seeing things is as a Pilgrimage to God’s Kingdom which we approach from differing directions – as with the Camino where pilgrims walk from many different places. Conversations, prayers and walking together produces many experiences as we share in the common adventure. Finally each of these ‘ways’ converge. The Camino symbol, tracing the cockle shell (emblem of St. James the fisherman) shows us the paths converging to the same point.

Piers reflects on this as he thinks of what is the nature of the Anglican Communion. There are parallels to be discovered between the Camino and the Anglican Communion. Might it, therefore, be possible to see a positive way forward, not just for Anglicans, but also for Christians of all denominations. Could we be even more brave and see some way forward for inter-faith friendship.

The Anglican mystic and teacher of prayer, Evelyn Underhill, had a belief that our differing views and beliefs are as Chapels in the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit. It is both a lovely and dynamic thought !