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| Reclaiming Valentine’s day |
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Posted by Ruth on 14 February 2012
I am actually managing to write the blog on a Tuesday this week - and it is Valentine’s Day. And no - I have not sent or received a card, and I am quite happy about that. But what I have noticed this year - perhaps because I am much more plugged into social media these days- is just how many blogs, articles, facebook entries and twitter statements there are which bemoan the commercialisation and the unreality of the fluff of this day.
And it is true that it has become a deeply problematic day for many. It can feel as if it just emphasises the aloneness of those who would love to have a partner but don’t. It does peddle one particular model of romance - one that doesn’t suit everybody (witness my lack of sending or receiving a card, even though I am in a very loving and solid relationship - can’t find a card that says it right!). It feels exploitative - spend this amount or you don’t really love him. And all sorts of other stuff that is negative and painful for many.
There are also those who argue that it should be accepted just to be what it is - enjoyed for what it is and treated as a bit of fun. And I agree - there is nothing wrong with a fluffy bunny or a red rose, or a lovely card.
So what I have been wondering is whether, rather than dismissing Valentine’s Day as flummery or commercial exploitation, we might reclaim it in some way.
One of the important things about Bloomsbury - something we work for even when we get it wrong - is our capacity to welcome and accept. This is a deeply important, and often undervalued, aspect of loving; it is offering, and receiving a form of love that is affirming and non-judgemental. Let’s recognise that and celebrate it. And commit ourselves to deepening it.
And we have a deeply powerful sense of belonging together. I have been struck again over the last few weeks with just how much this congregation cares - and the imaginative and creative, and deeply committed way, in which this is expressed, not only on certain days, but over and over, often at personal cost. This is a form of loving that I believe is deeply important, especially in the potentially isolating context of a city centre. So, let’s give thanks for it.
And within our own individual lives, there are all sorts of people we love in all sorts of different ways; romantic partners perhaps, family perhaps, friends perhaps…. there is an almost infinite variety of ways we can love each other. And we don’t always have the right words to describe it. But it is real nonetheless. So, let’s enjoy it.
It is well-known, but still worth reflecting on, that the New Testament has several words for love; four, to be exact. In his book The Four Loves C. S. Lewis defines the four different kinds of love; Storge (affection/fondness between family or acquaintances), Phileo (friendship), Eros (intimate/romantic) and Agape (the love of God). As a concept and an experience, loving and being loved is so multi-faceted, and the Greek the New testament writers use attempts to deal with that multiplicity. English is rather more limited in its capacity to distinguish - but we know the variety of forms. And even these four words is not enough! So perhaps there is a place, this Valentine’s Day - or, indeed, any day (why limit it to one) - to celebrate the richness and the delight of loving and being loved. And to tell somebody.
And even if we can’t do that - being, many of us, buttoned-up Brits - let’s give thanks for (and enjoy) what Paul calls the width and length and height and depth of the love of Christ, and to open ourselves to know it, though it surpasses knowledge. For it is the ground of our very being.
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| When routine breaks down |
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Posted by Ruth on 08 February 2012
Insofar as I have a routine for writing this blog (I do have in my head, it just doesn’t always make it into real life!), I write it on a Tuesday. Of course, this week, it is Wednesday, and last week it wasn’t at all - routine and I were never good friends, and life here at Bloomsbury doesn’t always conduce to routine.
But this week has been short of routine, as was last week. Last week involved a trip to Prague immediately followed by a trip to Walmer, and then back to London, in order to preside at a funeral on Monday morning. None of these are normal occurences, and so the routine was already challenged. But of course last weekend also saw “the snow”. I was fortunate to manage both the journey from Prague to London, and from London to Walmer ahead of the snow falls. Getting home from Walmer was more of a challenge, and I am grateful to colleagues who were ready and willing to take on the evening service when it became clear the trains were not going to co-operate, and I was going to spend rather too long standing waiting to be back in time. And I am even more grateful that they had the sense to cancel the service and allow those who were here to get home without anxiety.
“The snow” was not the only disruption to the routine; attending a funeral on a Monday morning is not a normal activity. As always, it is a privilege to be invited to take part, and it was powerful to see so many people to say goodbye and give thanks for the life of Ruth Smith. Funerals are always disruptions to routines, and they bear witness to the ultimate disruption to our routine, the coming of death with its complete shattering of what has been. There is no easy way of getting through this, and nothing that will make it easier. A whole new world and life to build with the new reality. It can be done - of course it can, and people do. But it is not routine.
There is something very comforting about routine - even for a non-routine person like; routine means things don’t get forgotten, patterns are maintained, and much can happen without too much thought. But that last is also one of the problems; we can end up just doing things in the way and for the sake of how it has been, with all the dangers of being unreflective, or even worse, disengaged.
So there are times when a disruption to routine, even when it is uncomfortable, can helpful - we have to think about what we are doing and why - and even, if we should.
There is something about coming to worship that, at its best, is disruptive to routine. All too often of course, it is anything but un-routine; our worship can be predictable, closed down and routnie at its worst - used to confirm all our expectations and presuppositions.
But actually to make the effort to come - especially in a culture in which attending church is not “routine”, - can itself challenge the routines of our day and week. And in those moments when, in mercy, attending worship is less what we do, and more the encounter with the living God present among us in Christ, then all the routines are challenged, and our awareness of what it is to be human, to be beloved, to be called and empowered is deepened and broadened. And with that kind of possibility, who wouldn’t willingly let go of routine and embrace the movement of the Spirit.
Though I would still rather trains ran to time!
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| Being Baptist in London |
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Posted by Ruth on 17 January 2012
On Saturday, the church was full. There was a service to induct the new team leader for the London baptist Association Regional ministry team. It was a great service, with representatives from Baptist churches across London. All sorts of highlights, but one thing that was said has echoed around my mind since then; there are over 300 Baptist churches in London, with a constituency of between 50000 and 60000 pepole worshipping in these fellowships. That’s a tremendous number of Baptists.
One of the aspects that we love about Bloomsbury is its international nature - the way in which, as a congregation, we have the chance to welcome people from all over the world, and draw on the richness of the world church. There is more - much more - we could do to make this even more real in the way we worship and organise ourselves, but just by meeting people, sharing meals, getting to know each other we are immeasurably enriched.
But I just wonder if we are missing something in our lack of contact with our wider Baptist family in London. There are all sorts of ways of being Baptist reflected in our London churches, and all sorts of really exciting things going on, from working with asylum seekers to hosting shelters for the homeless to providing support for families and creating safe places for those who are battling addiction. And the churches around the Association are multi-cultural in ways that make us look monochrome.
In May this year the Assembly of the Baptist Union of Great Britain is meeting in London. One of the day conferences that form the centre pieces of the Assembly is happening here at Bloomsbury. Other meetings are taking place in other churches around the Association, and the main meetings are at Central Hall Westminster. And - sadly - at the moment, we don’t have delegates for Assembly. This is very sad. On our doorstep is the chance to meet with Baptists from around London and from around the country, to hear some of the things that are going on, to have the chance to learn about some of the challenges and delights that people are facing in different places, and to offer our insights and wisdom to others.
Please think about it - and if you want to know more, check this website
http://www.baptistassembly.org.uk/home.asp?id=1
or talk to me about it. I’m going - but I would rather not go alone.
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| Sometimes a light surprises… |
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Posted by Ruth on 27 December 2011
Each season in the church’s year has its own flavour - and each year’s round of the season brings its own particular twist. This year’s advent has had all sorts of delights and special moments, but it will always be, in my mind at least, the year of the unexpected lights.
We have been working on improving the lighting in the sanctuary. There were various technical problems, exacerbated by some bulbs blowing, and it being difficult to get at them to replace them. (Before you ask - we are in the process of beginning to sort it out). In order to overcome the problems temporarily, some spotlights have been rigged up. They need to be worked from the gallery, and are not switched on and off at the normal place. As a result, it is easy to forget them. But when they are on, they do flood the place with light, and it looks wonderful.
And so we decided we would exploit that. We thought, during the nativity, when we told the story of the star, we would light up the star with the spotlight. We thought, during the midnight service, we would conduct the whole service just in candlelight, and bring up all the lights as we lit the Christmas candle.
This would be great, except we didn’t always communicate our intentions clearly to others who were keeping an eye on the lights. And so, since I am prone to forget things, one of my colleagues thought that I had forgotten the light during the nativity service, and went up to switch it on - before we got the part about the star. Another colleague was sent to switch it off, and guard it and light it at the intended time.
And during the midnight service, one of those who is so good at making things work went to put on the lights during the first hymn - although, since we were using the screens, in fact, we didn’t need it. He got the message soon that we didn’t want them on and switched them off. And later they did flood the sanctuary as we lit the Christmas candle and celebrated the birth of the Light of the World.
And I understand that there was another, similar event, but I missed that one.
But it has been the advent of unplanned light. Which is wonderful. OK - as a stage setting, it may not have been all we had planned. But what wonderful symbolism; light breaking out when and where it is not expected, light being brought by those who can see it is needed, even without the script, light occuring when we hadn’t planned it, and rather confusing us…. and I am sure you can think of more meanings. I am choosing not to go down the route of thinking what it means when the minister is the one to quench the light when it isn’t where and when and how she wanted it. Instead, I am going to rejoice in being part of a world into which light breaks, and in being among those who worship a God who goes on and on and on bringing light, regardless of my script and expectation. Christmas blessings.
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| There are days when it just happens |
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Posted by Ruth on 22 December 2011
We were singing “O come, all ye faithful” at the Tuesday Lunch carol do. Somebody’s mobile signalled a text coming through. And then we heard - Mahdi and Mojgan, our newest members, baptised at the end of October, and coming into membership at the beginning of November have been granted leave to remain in the UK. They had fled here from Iran following their conversion, and had applied for asylum. It has been a long journey involving various hearings. And in the middle of the carol we heard they can stay.
We sang the doxology.
There didn’t seem much else we could do.
Sometimes it just happens. And all we can say is thank you - to all those who supported them, who wrote letters, who came to the hearings, who have welcomed them and prayed for them.
And to God.
O come, all ye faithful. Come and adore.
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