Fruit

 I have often been astonished by the fruitfulness of the earth, as I am now, looking out at the young plum tree in the back garden, one of whose branches is weighed down, bent over, with fruit. This week we are benefitting too from our own, and a neighbour's, tomatoes; 'while we are away and you are watering our garden' he said, 'help yourself to the tomatoes, otherwise they will just go to waste'.

A walk by the canal earlier in the week confirmed this fruitfulness in a non-domestic setting. Will anyone gather the elderberries, the hazel nuts, the blackberries, the cherry-like fruit of the service tree, all of which we passed in a short distance. 

This profligate fruitfulness has often struck me, and produces a sense of wonder each time I think of it. What was new this time was the tie-in with one of the lectionary readings for today, from James; that we are to be first fruits of God's new creation, That same profligacy, that same heedless race for fruit in massive abundance. 

Worth reflecting on; any fruit at all? sour fruit? diseased fruit? I suspect the 'end of term' report will say 'Could do better'. Note to self, and prayer to God- let there be fruit in me as per the maker's manual.  

Retirement

 Yesterday I visited an old priest colleague, who lives in the parish. He is afflicted by cancer, and according to him, spends most of the day asleep. The visit- not that it is by any means an exclusively priestly task- reminded me that although parish ministry is over, some of  its tasks and responsibilities remain- the visitation of the sick among them.

I realise that the opportunities which have come to me since retirement are those of a privileged class; financial security, food security, personal safety and good health have all bolstered the openings for leisure, learning and friendship which have come our way.  But should they decline, and should I be sleeping most of the day in that waiting room for death, there is still room for growth, although not in the areas I have already mentioned. 

One can always grow in God, given the intention. Much else may have gone, but one thing remains steadfast, sure; the love of God to his creation, and I hope to journey deeper into it until it is all in all.        

  

The name

 'All the most beautiful sound in the world in a single word.....Maria! I've just met a girl called Maria.....' - Tony sings in 'West Side Story'...... it's a secular echo of John Newton's 'How sweet the name of Jesus sounds, with its further line 'and may the music of thy name refresh my soul.....' Except that Tony's discovery is a hope at the beginning of love; John Newton's is something based on experience over time.

Long known, often sung, but I wonder how many have discovered Newton's truth? Can a name, the mere breathing, whispering of it, bring sweetness and refreshment?  That's been this week's earworm, in spite of the evidence of West Side Story, or John Newton. 

The name brings all of that person, all our experience of that other to mind; it pushes our buttons for good or ill. It feeds us, but not necessarily healthy nourishment; I guess we all know names, persons, who are less than sweet, anything but beautiful. 

Is our experience of Christ all sweetness, all refreshment?  Does he stand out above all others, unalloyed by bits of betrayal, barbs of sarcasm or whatever else vitiates our experience of others? Maybe this sweetness, this beauty, is part of what it means to be God.     

The geography of faith

 It struck me recently that faith has its own landscape; I should have known this from long exposure to 'The Pilgrim's Progress' but dim as I am, I hadn't made the connection. Bunyan's landscape, so clearly defined, so sprung from his own experience of living in the flat lands of Bedford, the regular walk  there from Elstow, the view of the distant Chiltern hills; all this and more was poured into Pilgrim's journey. 

I was thinking of a faith landscape more obliquely. Nothing so transformed as the Chilterns becoming the Delectable Mountains, more a quiet reflection with questions; where have been the sunny uplands of my faith journey? the impenetrable thickets, forest even, where any onward progress has been the hardest work.? the even, easy footpaths, sometimes in shade, sometimes in searing sun, at others in frozen blasts?

Other images suggest themselves; the cliffs, the seas, the valleys of shadows; all the earth could be in some way put to use as metaphor for some part of the faith journey. The abandoned roads, the productive fields and mines, the shelters, the fingerposts, the trackless wastes, the......... fill your own landscape. 

You never step in the same river twice; equally, this landscape will look different every time it is surveyed. But that's the exciting part!