Topic: Prayer and Worship

Before we baptise a child at Holy Trinity or St Mary’s, the priest who will lead the service, visits the family at home.  As we do so, we are building friendships, explaining some of what will happen in the service and, most importantly, exploring the meaning that this Baptism will have for all involved.  Helping identify and articulate what is significant about this moment is very important.  It might be about the longed-for first child; it might be about welcoming into the wider family; it might be about starting off the child’s upbringing in a thoughtful and positive way; it nearly always includes acknowledging that there are standards of good and bad behaviour that parents want children to understand and take on (eventually) as their own. All this will be done within the context of prayer, thanksgiving and worship.

For years, I have felt comfortable with this approach combining a mix of affirmation, teaching and exploration.  But I have had a nagging feeling that the role of godparents is not well understood.  What is expected of godparents by the Church, the parents or, indeed, themselves?

So I am delighted, through running recently the course called “Torchbearers” at St Mary’s, to have at last had the chance to discuss this.  We had a good conversation, sharing our experiences and accepting that most of us did not really understand what we should/could be doing as godparents.  I have condensed the conversation into a letter which I hope to use with Baptism families in the future.

But I would value more comments, suggestions or wisdom.  How about reading the draft which is on our website, under services, then under “Baptism, weddings and funerals”?  Then let me have your reaction.

Godparents accept responsibilities on behalf of the godchild.  In some ways, in our secular age (and without taking anything away from the formal responsibilities of godparents), maybe the local parish congregation also take on some responsibilities for children brought for baptism.  We are here to pray for them, to support the parents, and to welcome all into the life of worship and friendships.  We have a role to play.  See if you can help us with this.

There’s theory; and there is practice.  We all know which, when the going gets tough, is more important.

So, I wrote a few days ago an article for the Bible Journal (to be published this weekend) about how to pray with the psalms.  One of my suggestions is to be familiar with verses from, say, 10 different psalms so that they can be comfort or guides in tricky situations.  Lo and behold, yesterday (which was not a good day) I needed just this.  I experienced “for the waters have come up to my neck” – and it would have helped to know the reference for this quotation.  Is it Shakespeare? No, it is Psalm 69.1

Reading the first 3 verses of Psalm 69 was a help, for it mixes the images of what it feels like when everything is going dangerously awry: drowning, sinking, crying, being thirsty, being unable to see.  On a really “bad hair day”, it will often feel as though all the wheels are coming off the wagon.  Psalm 69 shows you are not alone in having been in such a position – and indeed that we can still pray on such a day: “Save me, O God”.

Another image I value on such a day is that of being against the grain of the universe.  Tuesday began badly, and every time I tried to make it better, things went awry – messages going astray, people turning up late, me turning up late, my computer going on strike (surprise, surprise) – no one’s fault, just a cross-grained day.  And I find it takes courage and composure (even, faith) to remain calm, and not indulge in paranoia.

And one way of doing that is to remember that others have been there before: hence, the value of Psalm 69.1 “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck”.

I am saying this not because I want to let you know that my life is particularly hard, but partly because I am aware how tough it is for others just now.  The psalms encourage us to be empathetic, to walk in one another’s shoes, to share sorrows and joys.  So even if the sun is shining warmly on you today, Psalm 69 can still guide your prayers.

“Don’t worry.  You never forget how to do it.  It’s like riding a bicycle” he said, as he pushed the punt away from the bank.  I was with Hilary, taking Michael away from his studies for a day, just before his exams.  I have not punted for 30 years, so my confidence was low.  Is this really a skill that you never forget?  He pushed the punt into the stream just below the weir (so the water was choppy), and there were other punts under the “control” of Japanese tourists, and there was a low bridge only 20 yards away.  A recipe for disaster (or, a soaking).

But he was right.  One or two quick strokes and we were clear of danger, gliding gracefully along the river.  How does the body remember such things?  Surely there are some skills we forget; but there are others – like riding a bike – which seem permanent, once learnt.

So, as I punted, I pondered: what spiritual skills are important to develop in a way that, once learnt, we will never forget?

As a teenager, I belonged to a Church that taught that daily Bible reading was the essential skill and duty for a Christian.  Though I treasure the Bible, and though I use it routinely at Morning Prayer, having a daily 10 minute “Quiet Time” reading the Bible in a methodical way has never been a habit that has lasted long for me.  That sort of activity is too much of an “ought” and is not in my spiritual DNA.

“Mindfulness” is a skill (and then an attitude) that is about living each day aware of God.  I don’t mean this involves thinking about God 24/7.  Rather mindfulness is a way of spiritual attentiveness and reflectiveness: it means that when we make moral decisions, or when we are sitting in the sun in the garden, or as we enjoy time with friends, or while we are at our daily work, we are aware that we are in God’s world, blessed by God with talents and opportunities, and able to make choices that can be affected by our knowledge of God.  Once embedded in our soul, mindfulness is likely to last.  Busyness or tragedy can swamp it for a while.  But once we truly know that we have come from God, and are going back to God, we will never quite be the same again.

Perhaps that’s why I like the prayer, attributed to Sir Jacob Astley, which he prayed just before the start of the Battle of Edgehill: “God, you know how busy I will be today; if I forget thee, do not thou forget me”.  We may rightly concentrate on things other than God for a while.  But, in the end, we will not forget God, as God will never forget us.

We’ve had such a good time at the New Start course.  I have enjoyed teaching it; the listeners have expressed thanks and pleasure for the style and content of the evenings.  The heart of the matter has been recognizing the variety that is contained within the Old Testament, the New Testament, and the Bible as a whole.

The Old Testament holds together at least four major traditions, each with their own view of Yahweh/God, each with a different focus on what is required of believers.  The Gospels (especially Matthew, Mark and Luke) come alive when it is recognized that, as well as being very similar, they rejoice in their differences.  The nuancing of the gospel message that comes from comparison between these gospels is profound.  I am reminded of the line from Hopkins’ poetry: “fresh fire-coal chestnut falls… and blue bleak embers fall, gall, and gash gold-vermillion”.  The image is that, at times the outside appears grey and cool, but, once the embers tumble against each other, then the inner red-heat is revealed.

The same is true for the period after the New Testament books were written, while slowly over a period of 300 years the Bible came together.  There were tussles of what books should be included, and what excluded; what was the status of books which were not included, and what sort of authority still resided outside the covers of the Bible.  My closing remark on the final evening of teaching was that the Bible should be regarded as a journey rather than a finished product.  And I wondered out loud why some people are so uncomfortable with this.

So, it was timely to come across two quotations that affirm this attitude of confidence in doubt:

A poem by Jo Shapcott begins “Uncertainty is not a good dog”, painting the image of a hound that struggles across the landscape, bumping into trees, rolling in scents not its own, following other paths.  In spite of the title, the implication of the poem is that in reality Uncertainty actually leads us into greater wisdom, beauty and truth.  So it is, I believe, with the Bible.  If we exalt it too much, believing that it contains perfect polished unassailable truth inside its covers (and no truth outside measures up to such perfection), then we are likely to miss out on so much.

I have lost the source of the other quotation which goes: “The fugitive is imprisoned by fear of the prison”.  I asked: why do some Christians exalt the Bible so much?  What are they scared of?  I reckon that some are terrified of doubt and anxiety – and are therefore trapped in fear of uncertainty.  Moreover, they need a God of simplicity and purity; a “monad” as the philosophers would say – something whole and entire unto itself.  But as I read the Bible I hear so many tales of variety, different aspects of God being revealed at different times and in different ways.  The Bible points us towards ways in which we can experience some of that richness of God’s being, as people have experienced it in the past.  But the Bible does not contain the whole being of God – rather the Bible is an atlas, a travel companion, a declaration that “if you travel this way, you too are likely to be richly blessed by the grace of God”.

The New Start 2011 course began well last night.  I am very grateful to Sue Bull and the team who provided supper for 60 people, served in a gracious and generous way.  There was a positive atmosphere of hospitality, friendship and expectation.  I really appreciated the enthusiasm and desire to learn.

Learning and teaching is perhaps a classic example of a “win/win” situation.  In a true partnership, your ‘gain’ is not at the expense of my ‘loss’.  Perhaps this is especially true of spiritual learning.  I am not diminished as a teacher by you learning – indeed, it is rather the opposite.  When I teach, not only do I enjoy that, but I also benefit from now belonging to a community which is more knowledgeable, confident and articulate about its faith.

From the comments that I have received so far, people particularly liked making connections between history, ‘my story’, and ‘our story’.  For example, I recite history as a way of finding and displaying ‘my story’.  History is not merely an objective re-telling of facts; it is a way that we name who we are in the world today.  The stories of heroes and events from the past can shape my life, by naming the values and hopes that give my life purpose.  Moreover, I am connected with you as we tell the same stories – even if we do so for different reasons, and give the same stories a different spin.  So, for example, during the New Start evening, we discussed Moses and the Exodus, some emphasizing the moment when God is revealed in the Burning Bush, some rejoicing in the crossing of the Red Sea.  We are enriched by somehow by belonging to the same story.

Recognizing this, I can say that the Census last week missed an opportunity.  For though there was a chance to register ethnicity and religion, the census essentially treated us as atomized individuals.  Where was the opportunity to declare our community of belonging?  Where the chance to answer “where do you come from”?

Each person needs to have an answer to that question, not so that we can be put in a pigeon-hole, but so that we can relate more fully to each other.  Part of the answer for me is “the Garden of Eden” – by naming that story, I am joined with all those who see humans as created by God, from the ‘dust of the earth’, and blessed by originating in innocence, peace and intimacy with our Maker.