In sickness and in health

 It struck me, as the world wobbled uncontrollably, as I heaved my guts up, and as I had to crawl on hands and knees to the loo, and then ditto to bed- yes, dear reader, I have had a bout of labytinthitis this week, and I would not put it among the top ten cosy illnesses to suffer from- that with some sicknesses, the beginning of the sickness can mark the beginning of the cure. Perhaps better; the recognition of the sickness can mark the beginning of the cure; the sickness is brought to our attention. 'Do something about me' it cries.  

I knew what was needed in this case, having had this twice before; a course of Stemetil to stop the nausea, and steady the world's spinning. Several doses later, the desired effect has come about, although there is some way to go yet before the peak of rude health is achieved once again........

But this recognition; surely that chimes with the gospel view of sickness- be it physical or spiritual or mental? The recognition that something is wrong may not lead to seeking a cure, but in many of the gospel stories of Jesus' healings, that is the impetus for seeking his help. 

Odd that our sickness may contain the key to our health; I'm sure that's true in many cases of spiritual malaise.  Let's call the spiritual sickness 'sin' in its widest context- that which separates us from God. We know the cure; if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and purify us.... as the first letter of John has it.    

Crossword puzzles

I'll let you know straight out that it's a big sacrifice to put the Church Times crossword to one side- without even starting it!- to write this blog. Cryptic crosswords hold an attraction for me which is irresistible. A sign of my twisted mind, I suppose. 

If only the life of faith were like a crossword puzzle! Clear boundaries, always amenable to solution, black and white......... well, I guess we have helpful clues, but all the rest is missing. It can be something of a puzzle right to the end. 

St Paul talks of 'seeing in a glass, darkly', which about sums it up, in spite of one of clues being 'a lamp unto my feet, a light for my path'. Largely we make the best way we can, hanging on for dear life to the clues, aware that we make a mess of it all. 

One clue which I hold dear is the assurance that any attempt to navigate the path of faith brings joy to God's heart. With this, I'll happily stumble on; it brings infinitely more contentment than the completion of today's puzzle. Now let me see, 3 down........

The long-handled spoon

 I've made both marmalade and jam this week; for both I used the same long-handled wooden spoon I've always used. It (mostly) keeps me from burning myself on those spits of jam as it boils away. And keeps the jam from burning with the constant stirring. 

Over the years, of course, it's taken on the colour of the fruit, so that when dry and out of use, it's a chocolatey colour, distinct from the paler wood higher up the handle. Once in the fruit-and-sugar mixture, stirring away, it has even richer tones. Curiosity wonders how far through the wood the colour of the fruit has soaked. Only prudence prevents me taking a small saw to find out....

And the faith I profess, is it more than skin deep? How far into me has it soaked, aware as I am that I bear little resemblance to Christ, seem no nearer to the kingdom than forty, fifty years ago. It's a reminder that living this faith is a moment by moment affair. 'Now is the day of salvation, and now, and now, and now and...    

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!