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! 

Looking for diamonds

 The questions they asked of Jesus! I'm thinking of todays' gospel reading in John chapter 6. Jesus has escaped the crowd after the feeding of the five thousand, and when they catch up with him, they want an explanation. How did you get here? Depending on how you say it, it could be an open question, but it could have anger or fear behind it. Certainly the questions which follow this one are a challenge to Jesus' authority, asking if he is a charlatan, or worse. 

You want another miracle, another show of the spectacular, Jesus tells them. But in this fraught atmosphere, challenging, possibly heated, comes the calm, solid and shattering truth 'I am the bread of life'. No answer to their questions, but.......

Most may have missed its import, weight, sharp truth. It does take a lifetime to absorb. We are faced with all our questions to God, all our questions about God, with the one he lobs back at us; 'Are you looking for the pearls you expect, or the diamonds I long to give?'

Santiago de Compostela

 Today is the feast day of St. James; this day brings back memories of the camino I made twelve years ago. The memories are mixed; the smell of the eucalyptus woods as we walked through them, the joy of meeting other pilgrims on the way, the loveliness of this part of Spain, the small villages we walked through, the comfort of the wayside signage which confirmed we were on the right track, And the joylessness of the endless road stretching ahead in the heavy rain, the acheing body at the end of the day, the wrong turns and retracing of steps, the blistered feet needing attention. 

I wonder how many pilgrims- not many, I'll be bound- can say that their journey in Christ has been one of unalloyed joy, of straight and level paths in shady sunshine. For most it will have been a mix of good times and -yes- bad. Closeness to God and times of estrangement. Consolation and desolation. 

But we keep on. We keep on keeping on. Part deeply ingrained habit, part because we don't know a better alternative- 'to whom, Lord, shall we go? You have the words of eternal life'. Part because it can always be better than this, part for the final promise, the beatific vision of going to God. 

The journey and the destination- a complicated mix. We press on towards the mark.    

   

The gardener's pleasure

 '.....my father is the gardener'. And why wouldn't he be? Planting, transplanting, taking cuttings, trimming, pruning, weeding, planning, mulching, watering, mowing, building, looking over- and the rest. And taking joy in it all, above all. 

I walk round the garden at least once a day just now. Just taking delight in it. Noticing what's new, what needs a little help, dead-heading the roses, removing a weed, harvesting a few strawberries and watering, of course. There's always something to do, something to rejoice in- the deep purple of the clematis which has just come into bloom, the way the vibrant orange rose fades to apricot, then to pink. The particular pleasure of watching the monardas flower- a plant a haven't grown before; the thankfulness that I didn't jettison the verbena when all seemed lost- it's come good, and is starting its small blooms. 

It gives rise to a thought I have never seriously entertained before- the pleasures of God. Yes, I know the verse 'my son, in whom I am well pleased' and have applied it to myself, to good effect, and to others in ministering to them; but it's a thought worth taking up, savouring, more often;- that this plant/person, this ensemble of plants/church/community, could be a serious source of pleasure to God. 

I can feel another stroll round the garden coming on; just for the pleasure of it.