Experiencing Christian and Hindu funeral rites

 

Yesterday we had the great privilege of hosting a multi-cultural/religious funeral for the husband of one of our members.  The family, with Sri Lankan roots, wanted to honour the Christian heritage of their mother alongside the Hindu traditions of their father.

So, in our church hall, a service of Christian prayers was held before the Hindu funeral rites were performed.

I think all of the folk from AFC who helped out behind the scenes felt it was such a special and worthwhile occasion.

One of the most profoundly moving things I learnt preparing for yesterday is the Hindu tradition that on the day of the funeral the family make financial provision for food to be distributed to the needy from a local temple.  Also, that since the day of her husband’s passing until his funeral the family haven’t needed to cook, because members of the Sri Lankan community have called every evening with freshly cooked meals.

I was so impressed by the generosity of heart behind both of these wonderful traditions.  Customs based on love.

In the blending of cultures and rituals we witnessed yesterday it was this sense of love that united us.  It was palpable and crossed the divide of language and culture.  As we bade farewell to a much-loved family member, a spirit of love infused both the Christian and Hindu rites.

Tinker...Preacher...Author

 

Recently I’ve enjoyed becoming reacquainted with Pilgrim’s Progress in preparation for a talk I’m giving this coming Tuesday at LunchBreak.

Amersham is just on the edge of John Bunyan country as we back on to Bedfordshire.  Indeed, the Delectable Mountains in the book are thought to be based on the Chiltern Hills!

The 1600’s were years of religious turmoil in Britain, and it was all tied up with the country becoming a brief Republic under Cromwell and then resorting back to Monarchy under Charles II.  Throughout this period the Puritans were either guiding events or suffering from them.

Bunyan, the Tinker Preacher, was a Puritan Christian who was arrested because he preached outside the jurisdiction of the Church of England.  For that he was imprisoned in Bedford Goal for twelve years.

Yet, and I find this wonderfully ironic, it was during these years that he found a voice that would turn out to be greater than any sermon he could ever have given, because it was whilst in prison that he wrote Pilgrim’s Progress, published in 1678.

Today no one remembers the name of the priest who reported his illegal preaching, or the judge who sentenced him.  Yet Bunyan’s magnum opus has never been out of print and is today translated into 200 languages.

It’s often strange how things work out; and I’d say that even when he lost his freedom John Bunyan found a different sort of voice and used it for God!

Given a voice

Over the last couple of days, either side of the Channel, we have been commemorating the bravery and sacrifice of thousands of young soldiers during the D Day campaign of June 1944. Although world leaders have attended and made speeches it’s the voices of the survivors, or the written words of those who took part, that have meant so much. 

Voices from the past are precious and we are richer for hearing them.

There can be no doubt that those who have been blessed with life after D Day are full of gratitude for these years and immensely conscious of their mates for whom such a future was so cruelly denied because of the tragedy of war.

Whilst watching some of the coverage my mind went back to a conversation I once had with a much respected member of AFC, a lady who died a fortnight ago.  She lived with such open-hearted principles and rose to become a Head Teacher.  On one occasion when we ate together at a Tuesday LunchBreak, she told me how, in her young adult years, she had gone over to Europe every summer on camps specifically designed to rebuild a fractured continent, both emotionally and physically.  She spoke with such conviction of the place those camps still had in her heart.  Not only had she enjoyed being able to help with the physical rebuilding of Europe, she had also relished the opportunity to work alongside young people her own age from every country – on either side – who were now building friendships across the divide and establishing a different future.

This week I give thanks for all who gave their lives for our freedom and for all who have worked so hard to make the most of these years of freedom since 1945. This, so called, Silent Generation, have been given a voice this week, and we are profoundly grateful for their words.

The Parson's Nose

 Whilst clearing out some files the other day I came across a drawing from 30 years ago.  It was used at a church fete back in the 90’s and features ‘yours truly’ under the title Hit the Parson’s Nose.  A copy of this was placed on a board and for the grand sum of 20p the punters were given three darts to throw at hit.

Alongside being amused to rediscover the drawing I was also intrigued about the origins of the phrase Parson’s Nose.  We might all be aware of it being used in relation to a turkey at Christmas, but I wondered where it came from.

Apparently it originates from a falling out between a church carpenter and a parson at St Mary’s Church in Nantwich in the 1400’s.  The carpenter hadn’t been paid by the rector so carved an unflattering image underneath one of the choir stalls.  It showed a chicken with the parson’s face attached to its rear end!  Obviously both an insult of, and a rebuke to, the church’s incumbent.  And so, the phrase Parson’s Nose has stuck.

It’s a little sad that 600 years on the only thing we really know about this rector and carpenter is the argument between them.  Not quite what Paul had in mind when he penned those words in Ephesians of not letting the sun go down on your anger.

The message of Pentecost is essentially the opposite of that from this incident at St Mary’s Nantwich.  Instead of division the coming of The Holy Spirit, which we celebrated on Sunday, is about the bringing of unity.  A common language was heard in Jerusalem that day; symbolic of the unity that God’s love and presence can bring to our world.

The drawing is now in our downstairs’ cloakroom, but no darts are any longer available!

The blog returns in a fortnight.

Ascension to Pentecost

 

This week, as far as the Church calendar is concerned, we’re in an in-between time.  Ascension was last Thursday and we’re heading towards the festival of Pentecost this coming Sunday.

Whilst leading the opening devotions at our recent meeting, one of our Elders reflected on that farewell moment of Jesus at Ascension.  She said how much she appreciated that the greeting goodbye comes from the Old English meaning God be with you. She pondered that such a thought might make parting a little easier.

Well, we’re told it was as he was blessing them that Jesus departed from his disciples.  And they consequently seemed up for their new future, returning, we are told, to Jerusalem joyfully.

Pentecost, ten days later, celebrates that God is with us, by his Spirit.  Its message, in the early days of summer, reflects that of Christmas held in mid-winter, of Immanuel, God alongside us.

An old illustration, often used at children’s services at Pentecost is of a glove, lifeless without a hand, yet utterly transformed when filled by our fingers.

We humans find our lives filled with energy and purpose in so many ways, and we gain life giving inspiration from so many sources. I like to attribute all that good energy to the ministry of God the Holy Spirit filling and en-livening us.

Another, much loved image of The Spirit is the dove – we particularly think of the gospel picture of one descending , as it were, on Jesus at his baptism – a sign and seal of God’s presence and filling.

In a few weeks time, in Paris at the Olympics, the world will gather together for a festival of sport.  In our fractured times the Olympics, we hope, might bring us together, and what better a symbol of our shared humanity being blessed by the presence of our Alongside God than the release of hundreds of doves into the air above Paris.

May God’s Spirit of peace and strength, enliven us this and every day.

Ascension - the Joyful Festival?

 Today is Ascension Day and many church choirs will have climbed the stairs to their parish church tower to greet the dawn and ‘sing in’ this rather obscure Christian festival.

Endings create beginnings.  That’s what’s happened in Scotland this week with the change of First Minister.  It goes on all the time and we are grateful for it.

Yet I’m struck by just how joyful the Ascension seems to have been for those involved.  Maybe that’s because in Acts it happens forty days after Easter and Jesus has had time to fully say goodbye to his disciples.  However, that isn’t strictly true in Luke, when this seminal moment appears to happen on the evening of Easter Day.

Whatever it’s timings, this myth narrative has much to teach us.

I’m particularly drawn by  two things.  Firstly, it was as he was blessing them that he was taken up to heaven.  Secondly, once they had seen him depart, they returned to Jerusalem full of joy.

So, it seems that this part of the ‘birthing’ of the Church was an occasion full of hope and optimism, lived in the glow of Christ’s departing blessing.  And I find that encouraging.  Whatever challenging tasks were before them, it seems the Ascension gave these disciples a great sense of hope and a deep sense of joy.  Pentecost would, in a way, complete the picture with its gift of energy and strength.

My prayer, on this Ascension Day, is that we too can live with that same sense of joy.  Joy in the continuing task of living out the life of Jesus Christ for the here and now.  The baton has been passed on from generation to another, it started on that first Ascension Day as Jesus blessed his disciples even as he was taken from them.  We are now the ones running with this baton of hope, joy and peace – God grant us the strength not to drop it!

 May the blessing of Jesus still be ours this Ascension Thursday 2024.

Holding the Pole

 

Yesterday we entered a new month as May dawned.  Traditionally one of those days we think of as marking a transition as we slowly make our way into the seasons of late spring and early summer.  Even on the dullest and wettest of days our gardens are certainly telling us that change is on the way!

My Junior School marked May Day with the customary dancing around the pole in the playground.  However, I don’t remember hanging onto the coloured ribbons and skipping around because I, alongside the other tallest boy in the class, had the ‘honour’ of being chosen to hold the pole.  Not the most glamorous of jobs, and after half an hour quite tiring.  So, I have a somewhat chequered view of May Day!

The Roman Catholic Church marks May 1st as the saint’s day for Joseph the Worker.  (He has a double entry in the calendar being also mentioned on March 19th).  Choosing May 1st was one pontiff’s answer to the Socialist Movement’s adoption of this date to commemorate all workers.

Jospeh, as carpenter, husband, and father, is a somewhat shadowy figure after the birth narratives and the visit to Jerusalem when Jesus was a small boy. We think of him simply being there, a supportive presence in the wings, rarely talked about yet constant – until he wasn’t, probably through an early death.

There is, surely, a place for the bit part players in both the biblical story and the experience of any local church today.  People who, out of the limelight, contribute so much behind the scenes. 

I’m always impressed by the women, briefly mentioned in the gospels, who supported the mission of Jesus financially.  They played their part and enabled others to play theirs.

And that, in a sense is what I did all those years at Junior School.  So, around this time of May Day and the feast of Joseph the Worker, let’s give thanks for all who hold the pole, so that others may make their dance.