Still I Am One

Creatures of Habit

2012-02-23T13:47:00.000Z

We are all creatures of habit. The other day, the presenter Mark Forrest was talking about this on his breakfast programme on Classic fm. He commented that for him, the first cup of coffee of the day has to be in a particular mug, and sitting in a particular chair, otherwise it doesn't feel "right". The location and receptacles of the rest of his drinks for the day don't matter to him, but this first drink is special.

And I am much the same - I don't mind about which mug I have for breakfast, but my morning routine is unvaried: rise, shower, dress, then breakfast, sitting at the kitchen table, the same meal every day - mug of coffee (two sweeteners), bowl of Fruit & Fibre (same bowl every day), glass of breakfast juice. It is my way of easing into the day, of bringing myself up to speed.

Having a daily routine is not a bad thing, so long as we drive it, rather than it driving us. Certain things need to be done daily, or weekly, or whatever, and having some sort of routine can help with this. But I think we also need to leave some space for the unexpected, the new, the unusual, and not be so bogged down in our everyday routine that we cannot respond easily and quickly, to whatever comes up. It's a fine balance.

Habits can be good for us, or bad for us. For example, good habits might include regular exercise, cleaning one's teeth twice a day, and so on. Whereas bad habits might include smoking, drinking alcohol to unwind in the evenings, whatever. And most of us will sit in an accustomed seat in any particular setting, and be unreasonably annoyed if someone else sits in "our" seat. It's not rational, it's a matter of habit, and we need to be on the watch for habits which cause us to behave less than our best.

It reminds me of the old Native American tale about feeding the wolf, which appears in Rev. Bill Darlison's story collection The Shortest Distance:

"'Why is is that sometimes I feel that I want to do helpful things, but at other times, I just want my own way?' a little Cherokee boy asked his grandfather one day.
'It's because there is a battle inside every human being,' replied his grandfather. 'The battle is between two wolves. One wolf is kind and gentle, full of peace, generosity, compassion, and trust. The other is wicked, full of anger, hatred, greed, selfishness, pride and arrogance.'
The young boy thought for a moment, and then he asked: 'Which one will win the battle inside me?'
'The one you feed,' replied his grandfather."

We are all human beings who have been given free will, and can choose to follow a variety of paths through our lives. The story of the two wolves helps me to remember that I do have this choice, and reminds me to try to follow the best I know, and not to feed the wolf of bad habits.

Love Makes The World Go Round

2012-02-14T10:18:00.000Z

Love is an amazing thing. I very much like Raymond Feist's definition: "Love is a recognition, an opportunity to say 'There is something about you I cherish.' It doesn't entail marriage, or even physical love. There's love of parents, (to which I would add love of family), love of city or nation, love of life, and love of people. All different, all love."

And love is fundamental to human well-being. I am sure many of us can remember those sad, sad photos of those little children in Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, left in their cots 24/7, with no attention paid to them, who had withdrawn into themselves, totally unable to relate to anyone else, because they had been starved of love and attention. And it is well-known that in bringing up children, even "bad attention" is better than being ignored.

I would go so far as to say that we can only become fully rounded people if we love and are loved in return. Jesus recognised this when he described "Love your neighbour as yourself" as one of the two greatest commandments.

But it is not always that easy to do. We are so often concerned with the mundane busy-nesses of life; making money, acquiring the latest gadget, working, working, working, whether it is for an employer or at home, that we don't spend nearly enough time or attention on the truly important stuff - our relationships with our families, neighbours and friends. And we will regret it.

Luckily, it is something we can all get better at, if we try. Building loving relationships with all the people we come into contact with may sound like an unrealistic proposition, but stick with it; the rewards are beyond compare. Starting from where you are is the important thing, and building up slowly. Resolving to live your life in a spirit of love and compassion means recognising that there is "that of God in everyone", to use a Quakerly phrase.

In fact, the Quakers have a lot of extremely good advice about building loving relationships; let me share some of it with you:

"Do you respect that of God in everyone, though it may be expressed in unfamiliar ways or may be difficult to discern? Each of us has a particular experience of God and each must find the way to be true to it. When words are strange or disturbing to you, try to sense where they come from and what has nourished the lives of others. Listen patiently and seek the truth which other people's opinions may contain for you. Avoid hurtful criticism and provocative language."

"How can we make ... a community in which each person is accepted and nurtured, and strangers are welcome? Seek to know one another in the things which are eternal, bear the burden of each other's failings and pray for one another. As we enter with tender sympathy into the joys and sorrows of each other's lives, ready to give help and to receive it, our meeting can be a channel for God's love and forgiveness."

"Do you cherish your friendships, so that they grow in depth and understanding and mutual respect? In close relationships, we may risk pain as well as finding joy."

"Respect the wide diversity among us in our lives and relationships. Refrain from making prejudiced judgements about the life journeys of others. ... Remember that each one of us is unique, precious, a child of God."

"Do you recognise the needs and gifts of each member of your own family and household, not forgetting your own? Try to make your home a place of loving friendship and enjoyment, where all who live or visit may find the peace and refreshment of God's presence."

The teachings of Jesus sum up what we should do: "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ... Do to others as you would have them do to you. ... Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return ... Be merciful just as your Father is merciful."

There are people whose lives have been shining examples of putting this Golden rule, which is shared by all the major religions, into practice. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr was one; Nelson Mandela is another; so is the Dalai Lama. What all these people have in common is that whatever life threw at them, they somehow managed to rise above the natural human instincts for revenge and hate, and continued to live their lives in a spirit of love and compassion.

It's a big wide world, and we are only little people. But each of us can resolve to make our little corners of the world more loving places.

"There is something about you I cherish."

Becoming Ourselves

2012-02-10T11:47:00.000Z

My Facebook friend Hay Quaker posted a lovely quotation from Harold Babcock today, which really spoke to my condition:

"The fact is that for most of us, it is hard work to become ourselves: those true selves we not only long to be, but actually are. It is in truth a religious endeavor, this becoming what we are meant to be. It is our life's sacred work, really, because it usually takes a lifetime full of fits and starts, of beginnings and endings, of successes and failures and wrong turns, to get anywhere close to where we want and need to be."

It reminded me straight away of another quotation, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, about God's calling for everyone, which was given to me when I started my ministry training:

"You must give up everything in order to gain everything. What must you give up? All that is not truly you; all that you have chosen without choosing and value without evaluating, accepting because of someone else's extrinsic judgement, rather than your own; all your self-doubt, that keeps you from trusting and loving yourself or other human beings. What will you gain? Only your own, true self; a self who is at peace, who is able to truly love and be loved, and who understands who and what [s]he is meant for. But you can be yourself only if you are no one else. You must give up 'their' approval, whoever 'they' are, and look to yourself for evaluation of success and failure, in terms of your own level of aspiration that is consistent with your values. Nothing is simpler and nothing is more difficult."

It's about having integrity, which I have written about before on this blog. Acting with integrity, being true to yourself, involves thinking for yourself. I love the Abraham Lincoln quotation: "I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to the light that I have." This implies making a judgement about what you believe to be right and true, and then sticking to it, no matter what anyone else thinks. Take Jane Eyre as an example. When she discovers that her master, Mr. Rochester, has a wife still living, she has a hard choice to make. She was desperately in love with him, and wanted nothing more than to live with him and be his love, but she knew that this would be morally wrong; as she says "Laws and principles are not for times when there is no temptation; they are for such moments as these, when body and sould rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be." I admire her so much for this - she could so easily have followed her heart and stayed with her master. But she knew that is was the wrong thing to do "And there I plant my foot." To Jane, integrity meant self-respect, and following the dictates of her conscience in defiance of her wishes and desires.

Well that was in 1847. What about today? How can anyone behave with integrity, become their own true selves, in our complex modern society. To my mind, the answer is clear - the attempt must be made. Two politicians have died in recent years, Mo Mowlam and Robin Cook. Both were spoken of as having personal integrity. What does this mean in the wider context of our society? I believe that it means exactly what it always has - acting in accordance with your beliefs in what is right and proper, not matter what the personal cost. In Robin Cook's case, this meant resigning from his post of Foreign Secretary because he believed that the war against Iraq was an unjust one. In Mo Mowlam's case, it meant speaking out against the government when she believed it was doing the wrong thing. Personal integrity is not cheap - it means refusing to compromise when you are told to do something that you believe in your heart is wrong. It means following your principles, at whatever personal cost. It means putting what you know to be right about what you would like to happen, and above the approval of 'them'.

It is the surest way to become your true self that I know.

What is faith?

2012-01-30T15:55:00.000Z

There is an interesting article about the definition of faith on The Glory Land, a Fundamentalist Baptist website http://www.thegloryland.com/ . They quote the classic definition from the 11th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews in the New Testament. "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

So far, so good. They go on to explain that "faith is not mere human hope. Faith is based on the Word of God alone. Human hope may be based on the sands of wishful thinking or human desire, rather than on the rock of the Word of God. Doubt and hope raise the question, "What shall I do?" Faith says, "I have done!" The common phrase 'I am hoping and praying' is incorrect. 'I have prayed and am believing' is more scriptural."

They go on to draw a distinction between 'natural human faith' and 'faith in God': "Faith is not natural human faith. In order to function in life, we must exercise a natural faith. We have faith in natural laws such as gravity and inertia, and assume that they will work the same every day. If the universe were unpredictable and untrustworthy, chaos would reign and life as we know it would be impossible. We trust inanimate machines. By turning an ignition key, flipping on a light switch, boarding an aircraft, we exercise faith in machines. [personally, I would rather say that we trust the expertise of the human beings who have designed and made these things, but that is an aside]. We trust vegetables and animals - we assume they will perform according to our past experience. We trust other human beings. We trust our surgeon, our spouse, our pilot etc. However, faith in God is supernatural - a gift from God."

So far as I, an outsider, understand it, the central requirement of becoming a Christian is to have faith in the fact the Jesus is your Saviour, who by his death on the cross somehow atoned for the sins of humankind, and enabled us to be reconciled to God. This was an unmerited gift from God, made by His grace, and the human part is to accept it with gratitude, and try to be worthy of it. It is not a path that most Unitarians can take.

And yet, Unitarianism is often spoken about by Unitarians as a "faith" rather than a "religion". In his book The Unitarian Life, Stephen Lingwood calls us "a faith community for those on a spiritual journey, for those who believe there is still more to be discovered in religion. We believe in religious exploration - through the intellect and through the spirit. Through the intellect we explore religious questions in sermons, lectures, workshops, and dialogue. Through the spirit we explore through worship, music, ritual, meditation, and prayer."

I rather like his distinction between intellectual and spiritual exploration. For me, having faith involves trust, whether it is the "natural human faith" mentioned above, or faith in Someone or Something beyond the natural world. It is not the same as belief, which you can do with your intellect. It is not by accident that people speak of "a leap of faith" - it involves jumping into the unknown and trusting that you will be caught.

But my favourite definition of faith is that by Martin Luther King: "Faith is not belief in spite of the evidence; it is adventure in scorn of the consequences." It means living your beliefs, regardless of what it may cost. It means having integrity; it means "walking the talk". Our free-thinking, independent-minded way of approaching life is poles apart from accepting a creed because someone higher up the religious hierarchy tells us to. I would like to share the statement of faith from the website of my home congregation, Northampton, which was cobbled together from a variety of other Unitarian sources*:

Our Faith
Unitarianism is a religious movement in which individuals are free to follow their reason and conscience; there is no pressure from creed or scripture. We are open to change in the light of new thought and discoveries.

We believe that:

everyone has the right to seek truth and meaning for themselves.
the fundamental tools for doing this are your own life experience, your reflection upon it, your intuitive understnading and the promptings of your own conscience.
the best place to do this is a community that welcomes you for who you are, complete with your beliefs, doubts and questions.

We offer:

liberty of conscience and freedom from imposed creed, confessions and dogmas.
a fellowship where people come together to worship; to share times of celebration and trial; and to help each other in the quest for a faith to live by.

We affirm the universal values of love and compassion, peace, truth and justice.
We welcome all who come to us in the spirit of goodwill and enquiry, regardless of ethnic or religious background, age, gender, or sexual orientation."

I think that's quite something. That statement of faith places a very high value on personal integrity - on finding your own way to the best that you know. It is not something that we do for one hour on a Sunday; it is a way of living - not only affirming the universal values of love and compassion, peace, truth and justice, but also doing our best to make them matter in the world, and in our own lives. It is something on which I can rest, in the assurance that if I try to live up to those ideals, I will be faith-fully working towards becoming the best person I can be.

*General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Christian Churches leaflet A Faith Worth Thinking About, and Rev. Cliff Reed.

The rule of the last inch

2012-01-27T12:55:00.000Z

Over the last few days, I have been indulging myself by watching the series of documentaries about how the trilogy of The Lord of the Rings films were made. And I have been struck, not for the first time, by the loving attention to the smallest detail of every aspect of the production - the ethos seems to have been "why make a good film when you could make a great film?" I have been awed by the trouble and time taken by everyone involved to go that extra mile, to ensure that every single aspect of the production was the best it could be - the art and design work is extraordinary, to give just one example. There must have been thousands of people involved in the work (including two poor souls who actually wore out their fingerprints making chain mail for two years!) and all of them seem to have been infected with the same desire. I think it is admirable and praiseworthy.

It reminded me of the Rule of the Last Inch, as propounded by one of the characters in Alexander Solzhenitsyn's The First Circle:

"Now listen to the rule of the last inch. The realm of the last inch. The job is almost finished, the goal almost attained, everything possible seems to have been achieved, every difficulty overcome - and yet the quality is just not there. The work needs more finish, perhaps further research. In that moment of weariness and self-satisfaction, the temptation is greatest to give up, not to strive for the peak of quality. That's the realm of the last inch - here, the work is very, very complex, but it's also particularly valuable because it's done with the most perfect means. The rule of the last inch is simply this - not to leave it undone. And not to put it off - because otherwise your mind loses touch with that realm. And not to mind how much time you spend on it, because the aim is not to finish the job quickly, but to reach perfection."

None of us can work to that pitch, in the realm of the last inch, all the time. But we can surely strive to do the best job we can, whatever that is. And we can "put the thought of all that we love into all that we make" as Tolkien's Lothlorien Elves do. As Kahlil Gibran writes in The Prophet:

"Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man's hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night."

United We Stand

2012-01-20T10:25:00.000Z

This week is the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The BBC Religion and Ethics website says that "If you ask Christians why they take part in the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, their answers are likely to include some of these points:

A common desire to communicate God's love to all the world
Accepting that God's ultimate purpose is to unite all things in Christ
Obedience to the prayer of Jesus Christ "That all might be one" (John 17:21) and that "There might be one flock and one shepherd." (John 10:16)
Acknowledgement that Christ is the only one who can reconcile all things and people, and that Christ's people must pray for this reconciliation
Desire to show the Church as foretaste, instrument and sign of the unity of God's Kingdom
Acceptance that the Christian Church can only be the Church that God intended if all churches acknowledge their mutual interdependence
Desire to demonstrate a unity that is sometimes hidden by denominational differences through the act of praying together
Desire to achieve unity in a way that enriches rather than diminishes the legitimate diversity of local churches

Many people see it as their duty to pray not just for the unity of Christians but for the unity of all people who are made in God's image."

As a Unitarian, I believe that all people should be able to "seek truth and meaning for themselves" and not be bound to any particular creed or doctrine. So I cannot agree with some of the reasons given above - Christianity is a powerful religious path, but it is not the only valid one. Other religious traditions are just as important. I believe with Karen Armstrong, founder of the Charter for Compassion that "The one and only test of a valid religious idea, doctrinal statement, spiritual experience, or devotional practice is that it must lead directly to practical compassion. If your understanding of the divine made you kinder, more empathetic, and impelled you to express this sympathy in concrete acts of loving kindess, this was good theology. But if your notion of God made you unkind, belligerent, cruel or self-righteous, or if it led you to kill in God's name, it was bad theology. Compassion was the litmus test for the prophets of Israel, for the rabbis of the Talmud, for Jesus, for Paul, and for Muhammad, not to mention Confucius, Lao Tse, the Buddha, or the sages of the Upanishads."

However, I do find it heartening that Christians desire to "demonstrate a unity that is sometimes hidden by denominational differences through the act of praying together" and to "achieve unity in a way that enriches rather than diminishes the legitimate diversity of local churches". I attended a fascinating talk earlier in the week, by Bishop John Flack, who for five years was the Archbishop of Canterbury's representative in the Vatican. Bishop Flack gave a fascinating insight into the changing relationships between the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches. He made one comment towards the end of his presentation, which gives hope for the future. He said that there was a big gap in Rome between official statements and the actual tenor of relationships between the two denominations. For example, the Roman Catholic Church does not officially recognise Anglican orders, but Bishop Flack was called "beloved brother Bishop" by Pope Benedict, and was given a beautiful pectoral cross by Pope John Paul II. Signs can be more positive than words.

We live in a rapidly changing, often violent world, where poverty, sickness and war are all too common. It is time for all people of good will to be reconciled to each other, to see past differences of belief, and work together for a kinder, gentler, more just world, in which we can all live together in peace.

Scott of the Antarctic

2012-01-13T17:16:00.001Z

One hundred years ago next week, Captain Robert Scott and his Expedition arrived at the South Pole. Like many British children, I was brought up on the story of Scott of the Antarctic, and admired the bravery and courage of the Expedition members. Robert Scott and his companions were heroes of their time - brave explorers pushing back the limits of humankind's knowledge of the Earth.

Scott and the others at the South Pole

And yet, the end of the tale was so very sad - Titus Oates' noble self-sacrifice "I am going outside and may be some time" always moved me to tears - it was hard to understand how he found the courage to lay down his own life in the hope that without him to slow them down, his friends might be able to reach safety. But the ferocious weather was against them, and they died in their tent, a scant dozen miles away from a supply depot.

I wonder, what was it that kept them going as long as they did - I think it must have been the belief that they were doing something that was worth giving their all to. There is a lovely bit in the Peter Jackson film of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings which reflects this - Sam and Frodo are standing in the ruins of Osgiliath, and Frodo asks Sam what gives him the strength to carry on. Sam replies that it is his belief "that there is some good in the world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."

Most of us will never be in such an extreme situation as Captain Scott and his companions. Nevertheless, all of us will have times when we feel "down" and wonder why we bother to get up in the morning, as there seems to be nothing to look forward to, nothing worth fighting for.

At times such as these, friends are vital. If we can share our troubles with someone who loves us "just the way we are", the chances are that we will be able to get over the bad patch and realise that yes, life is worth living, and that yes, we do have the courage to face whatever comes our way. Such friendship is beyond price - it can make the difference between surviving and living, between hurt and wholeness. It involves compassion and love, and, practiced purely, it is one of the most healing influences in the world. It may not involve laying down our lives for someone else, as Titus Oates did, but it means putting that person's happiness before our own, because we cannot be truly happy if they are sad.

Ourselves As Others See Us

2012-01-07T09:07:00.000Z

Last night we were watching the very funny and talented comedian, Michael McIntyre on TV. He was performing to an audience in Wembley, and spent the whole time pacing up and down, up and down - apparently it is his trademark style. And I found it so distracting - I found it was much easier to appreciate the jokes if I didn't look at the TV. My daughter does the same thing sometimes - prowls around the room when she's talking to me. And it drives me nuts! I think it's because I was taught that it is polite to focus on a person's face when they are talking to you, and the prowling / pacing makes this very difficult, and hence uneasy for me.

And then of course I realised that I too probably have mannerisms which annoy / distract other people, which I'm not aware of because I can't see myself. There is a lovely quote in C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters which illustrates this perfectly:

"When two humans have lived together for many years, it usually happens that each has tones of voice and expressions of face which are almost unendurably irritating to the other. Work on that. Bring fully into the consciousness of your patient that particular lift of his mother's eyebrows which he learned to dislike in the nursery, and let him think how much he dislikes it. Let him assume that she knows how annoying it is and does it to annoy - if you know your job he will not notice the immense improbability of the assumption. And, of course, never let him suspect that he has tones and looks which similarly annoy her. As he cannot see or hear himself, this is easily managed."

It is so easy to make judgements about people for superficial reasons like this. And so very wrong. I need to remember, to constantly have in mind, that "each one of us is unique, precious, a child of God" and should not be judged, but seen whole, and loved just the way they are. This is the heart of compassion.

Between Present and Future

2011-12-30T09:31:00.000Z

In this deep breath between Christmas and the New Year, I would like to share some words by Patience Strong: "It is good to throw away the old calendar with its all too familiar picture, and to hang something fresh on the wall. How clean and bright the new calendar looks! It seems to symbolise the high hopes of this new morning of a new year. But as I flick through the crisp new pages of the months, I am suddenly aware of the strange mystery of the future. These pages with their neat rows of dates represent unlived time, the promise of seasons not yet come to fulfilment." This time of year is full of new promise.

During the past year, all of us have fallen short, and been less than the best people we can be. But we have also done some things well, and lived up to our potential as human beings. Many world religions have a special time of year, during which adherents "reflect on and evaluate their thoughts, words and actions over the past year [and] acknowledge their prejudices, negative behaviours and bad habits so that they may begin the process of transforming themselves." [Bhalodkar] The Hindu festival of Diwali is one, and the ten-day period leading up to the Jewish festival of Yom Kippur is another. It is a time "to celebrate and appreciate life and to look forward to the coming year with a renewed sense of purpose and passion." [Bhalodkar] For Christians, it is the period of Lent, but for the vast majority of people in Britain, who do not follow any particular religion, New Year is the time for reflecting on the past, and making resolutions for the future.

The process of self-examination is not an easy one. One of my favourite theologians is the wonderful Rabbi Lionel Blue, who I have been listening to on Thought for the Day for about 30 years. I have most of his books, which I have read and re-read, and was lucky enough to go and see him "live" a while ago. Over the years, he has taught me that the only thing that God wants frm us is for us to be more kind, more generous to everyone (including ourselves) and more honest, both with ourselves and our fellow travellers in the world. It is about listening to that inner voice, whether we call it God, or the light within, or our conscience, and about doing the right thing rather than the easy one.

My resolution for the coming year is to follow the advice of Rumi, in his wonderful poem The Guesthouse:

"This being human is a guesthouse

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

Some momentary awareness

Comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and attend them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

Who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,

Still, treat each guest honourably.

He may be clearing you out for some new delight."

Winter Solstice: Science and Spirit

2011-12-22T07:14:00.000Z

There is an interesting scientific explanation of the Winter Solstice on the website http://www.timeanddate.com/:

"The December solstice occurs when the sun reaches its most southerly inclination of -23.5 degrees. In other words, it is when the North Pole is tilted 23.5 degrees away from the sun. Depending on the Gregorian calendar, the December solstice occurs annually on a day between December 20th and December 23rd. On this date, all places above a latitude of 66.5 degrees north are now in darkness, while locations below a latitude of 66.5 degrees south receive 24 hours of daylight. The sun is directly overhead on the Tropic of Capricorn in the southern hemisphere during the December solstice. It also marks the longest day of the year in terms of daylight hours for those living south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Those living or travelling south from the Antarctic Circle towards the South Pole will see the midnight sun during this time of the year.
On the contrary, for an observer in the northern hemisphere, the December solstice marks the day of the year with the least hours of daylight for those living north of the Tropic of Cancer. Those living or travelling north of the Arctic Circle towards the North Pole will not be able to see the sun during this time of the year."

by catanna.com

Just so. But for me, there is so much more to it than that. It is the time of year when the earth turns back towards the light, a time of renewal and hope. But it is also a time to appreciate the necessity of the cyclical nature of things - and to celebrate "the need for withdrawal as an essential part of renewal." There is a beautiful passage in The Circle of Life: the Heart's Journey through the Seasons by Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr, which really speaks to my condition. My thanks to Frederic Brussat for drawing it to my attention via Twitter:

"There is a tendency to want to hurry from autumn to spring, to avoid the long dark days that winter brings. Many people do not like constant days bereft of light and months filled with colder temperatures. They struggle with the bleakness of land and the emptiness of trees. Their eyes and hearts seek colour. Their spirits tire of tasting the endless gray skies. There is great rejoicing in the thought that light and warmth will soon be filling more and more of each new day.
But winter darkness has a positive side to it. As we gather to celebrate the first turn from winter to spring, we are invited to recognise and honour the beauty in the often unwanted season of winter. Let us invite our hearts to be glad for the courage winter proclaims. Let us be grateful for the wisdom winter brings in teaching us about the need for withdrawal as an essential part of renewal. Let us also encourage our spirits as Earth prepares to come forth from this time of withdrawal into a season filled with light.
The winter solstice celebrates the return of hope to our land as our planet experiences the first slow turn towards greater daylight. Soon we will welcome the return of the sun and the coming of springtime. As we do do, let us remember and embrace the positive enriching aspects of winter's darkness. Pause now to sit in silence in the darkness of this space. Let this space be a safe enclosure of creative gestation for you."
May it be so.

The Dark Is Rising

2011-12-21T14:57:00.001Z

Like most people, our family has many Christmas traditions. Some of them go back forever, and some are more recent.

One thing that I always do at this time of year is to get out my battered copy of Susan Cooper's book The Dark Is Rising, and re-read it once more. All the action is set between Christmas Eve and Twelfth Night, and it really sets me up for the festive season. It is a beautifully written fantasy about the long struggle between the Old Ones of the Light and the Lords of the Dark, on which hangs the fate of our human world. The King Arthur legend gets mixed up in it too - the oldest of the Old Ones is Merriman Lyon (Merlin) and the hero of the books, Will Stanton, ultimately comes to serve Arthur's son, Bran. There are five books in the sequence, but The Dark Is Rising is my favourite.

There is a wonderful description of the magic of Christmas in the book, which reminds me of my own childhood Christmasses, which we have tried to re-create for our own children:

"Christmas Eve. It was the day when the delight of Christmas really took fire in the Stanton family. Hints and glimmerings and promises of special things, which had flashed in and out of life for weeks before, now suddenly blossomed into a constant glad expectancy. The house was full of wonderful baking smells from the kitchen, in a corner of which Gwen could be found putting the final touches to the icing of the Christmas cake. Her mother had made the cake three weeks before; the Christmas pudding, three months before that. Ageless, familiar Christmas music permeated the house whenever anyone turned on the radio. The television set was never turned on at all; it had become, for this season, an irrelevance."

Later on in the day, they decorate the Christmas tree: "Out of the boxes came all the familiar decorations that would turn the life of the family into a festival for twelve nights and days: the golden-haired figure for the top of the tree; the strings of jewel-coloured lights. Then there were the fragile glass Christmas-tree balls, lovingly preserved for years. Half-spheres whorled like red and gold-green seashells, slender glass spears, spider-webs of silvery glass threads and beads; on the dark limbs of the tree they hung and gently turned, shimmering.
There were other treasures, then. Little gold stars and circles of plaited straw; swinging silver-paper bells. Next, a medley of decorations made by assorted Stanton children, ranging from Will's infant pipe-cleaner reindeer to a beautiful filigree cross that Max had fashioned out of copper wire in his first year at art school. Then there were strings of tinsel to be draped across any space, and then the box was empty."

The whole book is beautifully written, and very exciting. In the end, of course, Will Stanton, the Sign-seeker, achieves the first part of his quest, and the rest of the story unfolds in the next three books. The central theme is the fact that the forces of the Dark are preparing for a second great rising, and the Old Ones of the Light must prevent it from happening. It is a battle between good and evil, in the most fundamental way. In a later book, The Grey King, one of the human protagonists, John Rowlands, comments:

"Those men who know anything at all about the Light also know that there is a fierceness to its power, like the bare sword of the law, or the white burning of the sun. At the very heart, that is. Other things, like humanity, and mercy, and charity, that most good men hold more precious than all else, they do not come first for the Light. Oh, sometimes they are there; often, indeed. But in the very long run the concern of you people is with the absolute good, ahead of everything else. ... At the centre of the Light there is a cold white flame, just as at the centre of the Dark there is a great black pit bottomless as the Universe."

We, unlike the Old Ones, are fully human. So we must be concerned with humanity and mercy and charity and compassion, for they are the true meaning of Christmas.

Wishing you every happiness this Christmas, and for the coming year.

The last mystery

2011-12-16T08:53:00.000Z

Yesterday afternoon, I came back from a convivial Christmas lunch with a friend, and opened my e-mails, to find an e-mail on my computer from another friend to say that a mutual friend had committed suicide the previous night, having left him a suicide e-mail, which he had opened that morning. It was such a shock – I saw her (the friend who has died) last month, and she seemed fine – up and quite content with her life, full of plans for the future.

Mourning flower by Solemn Hypnotic

And now she has gone. Such a waste.

It made me think about how little we know about what is really going on inside other people's heads and hearts. I am comforted by some wise words by Rev. Arthur Stewart::

"For some, living involves no obvious self-conflict; while for others, there is deep inner stress. We realise we are deeply affected by those who have struggles; and more so by those who, in their aloneness, could not see a chance of winning. For it is from these last that we shall learn in the days to come, to labour more earnestly, and to share with one another our common stores of beauty, joy and love."

I mourn for the lost possibilities of my friend's life - so much that could have been accomplished, that will not now be. And for the friends and family left behind, who must now come to terms with a life that does not contain her. Let us pray for the strength to move forward in wholeness. A prayer by Rev. Michael Dadson fits what I want to say:

"Spirit of Life and Hope and Love, we find ourselves today in the presence of unfathomable mystery,
As with humble hearts we bow before the veil which has fallen between us and one whom we have known and loved.
Help us not to fear - nor to surrender ourselves to grief alone.
Help us to remember that greater than sorrow is love, which endures through pain and conquers grief. Love can bind all hearts in bonds of fellowship and courage; they who love unselfishly face even the depths with courage, for their strength is the strength of many and their courage rests upon the love of friends.
Let us open our hearts now - all the windows of our hearts - in search of the inner resources we shall need, if we are to face life's varied experiences of joy and sorrow.
At this time when ties of friendship and kinship have been broken, we seek the peace of acceptance.
May the words, the feelings, and the remembrances we share in these quiet moments strengthen us each in our grief, and all in our support, one for another.
Amen"

May she rest in peace.

The core of religion

2011-12-08T12:51:00.001Z

Last night I was fortunate enough to hear Karen Armstrong speak at the Liberal Jewish Synagogue in London. The occasion was the World Congress of Faiths' annual Younghusband lecture, and she spoke for an hour, entirely without notes, sharing her passionate belief in the sovereign importance of compassion as a force for good in the world.

Karen defined compassion as "the ability to dethrone yourself from the centre of your world and put another person there." This is promulgated in the Golden Rule, which was first formulated by Confucius in the 5th century BCE "Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself." Its positive counterpart appears in Matthew's Gospel, when Jesus says: "In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets." Most of the world's religions have their own version.

In 2008, Karen Armstrong won the TED prize - a sum of money and the means to make "a wish for a better world" come true. She knew immediately what she wanted to do. In her work as a religious writer and broadcaster, she had come to realise that the Golden Rule was a common thread running through all religions, but it didn't seem to be spoken about in the modern world much. So she determined to set up a Charter for Compassion "to restore compassion to the heart of religious and moral life." An invitation was sent out to leading theologians and religious thinkers from across the world's religions, and between them, they formulated the Charter for Compassion, which was launched in November 2009. Two short years later, it has over 80,000 signatories and nearly 200 Partner Organisations, including my own General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Christian Churches.

The message of the Charter for Compassion is one that all human beings should heed. Imagine what the world would be like if everyone followed it! If every person genuinely tried to behave to the rest of humankind with a concern and care for how they would feel. As it says in the Charter for Compassion "Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect." We live in a global community, and we need to recognise this, and put aside our petty differences and work to create a world in which all human beings can live together in peace and freedom.

Oh let us live to make it so.

The Shadow Side of Christmas

2011-12-02T17:30:00.001Z

Christmas is the time of year when all the charities go into overdrive. It is the season of goodwill when people are more inclined to respond favourably to pleas for donations for good causes. The first Christmas catalogues plopped through my letterbox way back in August. I buy most of my Christmas presents from them, as well as all my cards.

So Christmas is a time of joy, of goodwill, of charitable thoughts and deeds. God's in his heaven; all's right with the world. Or is it? No, of course it's not. Many people I know are the lucky ones - we all have family and friends who love and care for us, with whom we can share the joys of the season. But not everyone is so fortunate. Christmas has a darker, largely unacknowledged side. Unaccustomed proximity can lead to bitter family arguments and breakdowns in relationships. And there are also so many lonely people who simply don't have anyone to share Christmas with, and who wouldn't feel like celebrating even if they did. For such people, the contrast between their lives and the Christmas projected through the media can exacerbate feelings of isolation, panic, stress and depression. For them, Christmas is a season to be got through somehow, not a time of joy and sharing. And even people who are spending time with friends or family may feel pressured to appear happy and to hide their true feelings or problems so as not to spoil the party atmosphere.

There is one particular charity, not as high profile as many, which exists to help such people. Its mission is (and I quote) "to provide confidential emotional support for people who are experiencing feelings of distress or despair, including those who may lead to suicide." It is the Samaritans.

Most of us will be familiar with the story of the Good Samaritan, as told by Jesus in the Gospel of Luke. A man lay wounded and dying by the roadside. The priest and the Levite passed by on the other side of the road, not wanting to get involved. But the Samaritan was different. Although he was a stranger in those parts, he did not hesitate. He went across to the man, gave him water and bound up his wounds. Then he put him onto his own donkey and took him to the nearest inn, and left money for his care. When Jesus told that story, he asked which man had been the wounded man's neighbour, and was told "He that showed mercy on him."

The Samaritans was founded in November 1953, by an Anglican priest named Chad Varah. Eighteen years before, his first act as a young minister had been to bury a 14-year old girl who had killed herself when her periods started, because she thought she had some dreadful disease. Varah never forgot this girl and, in his own words, seized "every opportunity to teach young people about sex, and finding that it led youngsters to join my youth clubs and young couples to come for marriage preparation, and couples drifting apart to seek marriage guidance before it was invented." He was labelled a dirty old man for his troubles, but carried on with his work regardless. People got in touch with him to talk through their problems, and he was delighted to help.

Then one day he read in a digest that there were three suicides a day in Greater London. To use his own words again: "What were they supposed to do if they didn't want a Doctor or Social Worker from our splendid Welfare State? What sort of a someone might they want? Well, some had chosen me, because of my liberal views. If it was so easy to save lives, why didn't I do it all the time? How, I answered myself, and live on what? And how would they get in touch at the moment of crisis? He concluded that he simply didn't have the time and that "it'd need a priest with one of those city churches with no parishioners" to do the job.

A short while later, he was offered the benefice of St Stephen Walbrook in the heart of the City of London, a church endowed by the Worshipful Company of Grocers. He told them of his idea of setting up a helpline for suicidal people, and the Samaritans was born.

The rest is history. There are now 202 branches of the Samaritans in the United Kingdom, and in 1974, Varah founded Befrienders International, the worldwide body of Samaritans branches. The basic principles have remained the same - Samaritans volunteers are available 24 hours a day, 365 days a year to offer that unique befriending service, and to provide confidential emotional support to anyone experienceing emotional distress or despair. In 2010 in the UK alone, Samaritans received nearly five million contacts, 85% of which were by phone, many of whom felt suicidal at the time of the call. They are dealt with by a total of 18,700 volunteers, who between them give nearly three million hours of their time to befriend people in need of emotional support. I think they are splendid.

57 Varieties of Ministry

2011-11-25T09:06:00.000Z

A certain famous manufacturer of baked beans, soups and tomato ketchup has the slogan "57 Varieties". According to the Heinz website, "While riding a train in New York City in 1896, Henry Heinz saw a sign advertising 21 styles of shoes, which he thought was clever. Although Heinz was manufacturing more than 60 products at the time, Henry thought 57 was a lucky number. So, he began using the slogan '57 Varieties' in all his advertising."

In some faith traditions, the only people allowed to lead worship have to be qualified, whether they are called 'priest' or 'minister' or 'vicar' or 'rabbi'. In the Unitarian movement, the person leading worship in your church or chapel next Sunday might be any of the following: a worship leader, a Lay Preacher, a Lay Person In Charge, a Lay Leader, a Lay Pastor, or a Minister. All are ministering to the congregation in the broadest sense - serving others by ministering to their needs.

I believe that there are many kinds of ministry, and many kinds of minister - maybe even 57! If you look up the verb "to minister" in the dictionary, it says "render aid or service (to person, cause etc)" That makes us all ministers - we are all rendering aid or service to each other, and towards building our beloved Unitarian community, and a better world.

So what is ministry all about? In the traditional sense of the word, it is about having pastoral oversight of a congregation, and regularly leading worship. But I think that in a Unitarian context, it could be interpreted much more widely. I think that there are three main types of ministry going on in our churches and chapels: spiritual, pastoral and practical, because the needs of congregations are also spiritual, pastoral and practical. An invocation by the American UU minister Jack Mendelsohn sums up these three aspects of ministry:

"Here, in this sanctuary of ancient dreams and wisdom and beauty, we come to grow, to be healed, to stretch mind and heart, to be challenged, renewed; to be helped in our own continuing struggles for meaning and for love; to help build a world with more justic and mercy in it; to be counted among the hopers and doers."

Ministry in a Unitarian context is not just something that the congregation passively receives; it is something we all do together, helping each other along the way.

Spiritual ministry is about feeding the spiritual selves of the congregation. It is about delivering worship that will inspire them and help them to grow, that will stretch their minds and hearts, that will challenge and renew their spiritual selves. It is about deep listening and sharing.

Pastoral ministry is about being there for each other in times of need, whether it is listening to someone's problems, or sharing their joys, or visiting them in their homes or in hospital, or conducting rites of passage -namings, weddings and funerals.

Practical ministry is about serving refreshments after the service, or sitting on a church committee, or keeping the chapel clean and tidy, or providing flowers for Sunday worship, or playing the organ, or giving someone a lift to chapel on Sunday morning, or any number of other practical things that turn your church or chapel from a social club into a beloved community. As Lionel Blue writes, "it is not preaching about kindness, it is about doing a kindness."

For me, the thing to remember, to bear in mind all the time, is that we are all human beings, all fellow pilgrims on the same spiritual path. As Cliff Reed explains in Unitarian? What's That? "Unitarians affirm that all human beings originate in the Divine Unity, all have something of God in them, all are alive with the same divine breath."

As I see it, our job as Unitarians, as human beings, is to be constantly aware of the "divine influences" around us, in the world, in our fellow human beings, and to recognise that there is "that of God in everyone", and that we are all connected to each other, on a very fundamental level. It is when we make these fundamental connections that ministry takes place, whether it is in a Unitarian context or in our everyday lives.

The Quest for Inner Peace

2011-11-17T11:22:00.000Z

It can sound a bit like an advertising slogan: 'Inner peace and how to find it.' I have come to realise in recent years that inner peace is one of the most difficult things to obtain, and yet harder to hold on to. And I'm not the only one by a long way. Go into any bookshop, and look in the Mind and Spirit section. You will find the shelves groaning with titles like The Little Book of Calm or Chicken Soup for the Soul or De-stress Your Life in 30 Days (I made the last one up, but I'm sure that such a title exists). And there are DVDs you can buy to teach yourself yoga or pilates to regain control of your life. But as a Quakerly-inclined Unitarian, I believe that there has to be a God-element as well. I love the words of our Unitarian hymn:

"I sent my soul some truth to win; / my soul returned these words to tell: / 'Look not beyond, but turn within, / For I myself am heaven and hell.
And as my thoughts were gently led, / half-held beliefs were seen as true; / I heard, as new, words Jesus said: / 'My friend, God's kingdom lies in you.
Now though I labour, as I must / to build the kingdom yet to be, / I know my hopes will turn to dust, / if first it is not built in me."

Inner peace spiral by Carol Hansen Grey

As usual, the Quakers have got it spot on: number 3 of their Advices and Queries sums up what I am trying to say beautifully:

"Do you try to set aside times of quiet for openness to the Holy Spirit? All of us need to find a way into silence which allows us to deepen our awareness of the divine and to find the inward source of our strength. Seek to know an inward stillness, even amid the activities of daily life. ... Hold yourself and others in the Light, knowing that all are cherished by God."

I want to be able to do this so much, and yet it is so hard. How can we attain inner peace in the hurly-burly of everyday life? Most of us spend our lives rushing around from one task to the next - work, shopping, looking after the children, housework, laundry, socialising - the list is endless. People find it more and more difficult to relax, and to attain inner peace, because they've forgotten how to stop.

But we're not supposed to be like this. Every person needs to have some time to centre down, to be at peace, to recharge their emotional and spiritual batteries. I believe that one of the most important of God's creations is the Sabbath - a time to rest, to re-group, and come back to our everyday lives refreshed. One reason why my faith is so important to me is that it has taught me that there is another way of living your life, even if i don't follow it all (or even most of) the time.

There are times when being busy, busy, busy just gets too much. The thought crosses your mind "Stop the world! I want to get off!" But it won't stop, so you have to consciously make the effort to schedule some time to step off the treadmill. It may take a little creative selfishness to realise that you are quite entitled to do this, and quite a bit of planning to reschedule your activities, and find a free time-slot, but it can be done. It doesn't have to be a long time, this 'Me-time', even ten minutes can be enough (depending on what you are doing) it just needs to be regular and consistent.

What you do in your me-time will depend on you. The ideal for me is to follow the Quaker advice and "find a way into the silence which allows us to deepen our awareness of the divine and to find the inward source of our strength", although I find it very hard to stop my mind buzzing round and round, flitting from concern to concern. I have some prayer beads which I made at Summer School a couple of years ago, and they really help me to focus, and to let everyday life go.

Prayer can also lead to a deep sense of inner peace. I have friends who do this, and I am sure that it helps them to see more clearly and live their lives more serenely. Many people find that listening to a piece of really beautiful music can whirl their minds away, and they come back to earth with a bump at the end of the record. Reading something inspirational may also help - this is something I do a lot, to remind myself of what I'm supposed to be doing, and to regain my perspective.

Physical exercise is also a good way of achieving inner peace. I know that sounds weird, because flogging up and down a swimming pool or playing a game of football may seem the complete opposite of peaceful. But certain forms of exercise really do help you to relax and centre down. Yoga is an obvious one - the fact that you have to concentrate on your breathing clears the mind wonderfully. Personally speaking, I find that going for a gentle run is one of the best stress-busters in the world. If you're not pushing yourself too hard, and can get into an even rhythm, running can be very cathartic.

Going for a walk is another good method of relaxing and centring down. Again, the rhythm of your strides can be soothing, and if you start to pay attention to what you are seeing around you, there is beauty almost everywhere - whether it's a mountain, a star, the turn of a stream, or the bark of a tree, or the architecture of a particular building. Many people find that a spot of gardening, or doing a craft that you love, can have the same effect, if you do it in the right frame of mind.

All these things can bring you, in Sidney Lovett's words, "wisdom and patience and solace, and, above all, the assurance that you are not alone in the world."

Thoughts on Remembrance Day

2011-11-13T09:19:00.001Z

To fight or to take a pacifist line is one of the deepest and starkest choices of personal conscience. Is pacifism a cause worth fighting for? What a paradox! I write as one who has a fairly volatile temperament at times, and one who is not a naturally pacific person. I admire Vera Brittain enormously, and the Quakers too. And I am deeply impressed by the realisation that we are all human beings, given life by God. What right have others to take that life away? What cause can possibly justify it?

Being a mother has also affected my views. Having grown my children in the womb, and having nurtured them in the years that have followed, I feel a deep fellowship with all women who have done the same, and can imagine the anguish that every parent must feel when their precious child is maimed or killed.

The common humanity of humankind should be an overarching bond that prevents war. After any natural or man-made disaster, we see this in action. Offers of money and help pour in, as we rush to succour our fellow human beings in distress. We just need to be reminded of our common humanity. Often.

A friend of mine sums up the arguments for and against pacifism as follows:

"The fence on which I seem to sit is this:
1. That I am dedicated to the proposition that love will ultimately (but not consistently or progressively) triumph over hate.
2. That by the same token peace will triumph over war - but not consistently or progressively.
3. That there are some things one must do, not believing in their success, but because doing them is essential to one's integrity (actually I'd say 'for the sake of my soul')
4. I know quite well that my blood can be fired by the beat of a drum or the skirl of pipes - just as I can be moved by 'Last night I had the strangest dream'. I am not one of the world's instinctive herbivores."

It is the responsibility of the living to make meaningful the sacrifices of the dead. It is the job of anyone who is horrified by the futility and slaughter of war to attempt to influence their government and fellow citizens to work towards a more peaceful, happier world, in which war would no longer be necessary. And I know that faith groups the world over are trying to do this - we just all need to work together, and to keep at it, until humankind finally realises that peace is so much better than war, for everyone.

Most wars are allegedly fought to bring peace - a most ingenious paradox! We should remember the dead, and honour their sacrifice, but also pledge ourselves to make our world a better place - to end all wars, to relieve world debt, to feed the hungry, to find a cure for AIDS, to stop destroying our environment. It is still a beautiful planet, or it could be, if we could only learn to live together in peace.

Autumn Glory

2011-11-04T14:31:00.000Z

The Autumn colours have been glorious this year - the leaves have been every possible shade of red-russet-copper-brown-gold-yellow-green that the eye could see or the heart could imagine. The sheer beauty of it all has taken my breath away, especially when the multifarious colours have been backlit by sunshine against a vivid blue sky. Which is why I count myself so blessed to live within walking distance of it all, on the outskirts of Salcey Forest, although the wonderful displays of colour have been everywhere this year, not least in the trees lining the roads that I drive along every day.

Autumn in Salcey Forest by Marlene Snee

In his wonderfully funny book Notes from a Big Country, Bill Bryson muses about this wonderful annual display of vivid colour. "What is all the more remarkable about this is that no one knows quite why it happens. In Autumn ... trees prepare for their long winter's slumber by ceasing to manufacture chlorophyll, the chemical that makes their leaves green. The absence of chlorophyll allows other pigments, called carotenoids, which have been present in the leaves all along, to show off a bit. The carotenoids are what account for the yellow and gold of birches, beeches and some oaks, among others. Now here is where it gets interesting. To allow these golden colours to thrive, the trees must continue to feed the leaves even though the leaves are not actually doing anything useful except hanging there looking pretty. Just at a time when a tree ought to be storing up all its energy for use the following spring, it is instead expending a great deal of effort feeding a pigment that brings joy to the hearts of simple folk like me but doesn't do anything for the tree."

It is a mystery, but a beautiful one, and I just wanted to record my thanks to God for it.

Gems for the Journey

2011-10-28T11:02:00.000+01:00

'Gems for the Journey' was the title of a Unitarian Summer School workshop which I attended in 2009, led by Rev. Linda Hart and the late (and much missed) Patricia Walker-Hesson. Over the six morning sessions, participants learned about different spiritual practices which might help them on their journeys. I discovered that using prayer beads really resonated with me, and have used them ever since.

My prayer beads

I have been reminded of this workshop over the last few days, because I have visited a number of places in which different spiritual disciplines were practiced, using a wide variety of "gems". My husband and I have just returned from a 'mini-break' in Somerset, visiting Wells on the first day, staying overnight, then visiting Glastonbury on the second day. Wells Cathedral was a wonderful building, with its facade of golden stone, and famous scissor arches holding up the crossing tower. They obviously have some very talented embroiderers, because there were a series of beautiful altar frontals, one for each season in the Christian year, one draped in front of the altar, and others in display cases on the aisle walls. They had clearly been stitched with love and devotion.

As this was an Anglican cathedral, I was quite surprised to find a series of wonderful modern icons by a Bulgarian artist depicting the Stations of the Cross, which had been presented to the Cathedral a few years ago. The colours were like jewels, bright and vivid. There was also a larger icon of Saint Andrew, to whom the Cathedral is dedicated. It seems that images are becoming more accepted as an aid to devotion in the Anglican church.

On the second day, we visited Glastonbury. It was a lovely crisp Autumn morning, so we decided to climb the Tor first, which has been a destination for pilgrims for millennia. The view from the top was spectacular, but the peaceful atmosphere was somewhat disturbed by the fact that some horticultural work was being done, using a noisy machine to turn the earth over. We then visited the Chalice Well Peace Gardens, which were very beautiful, and then went down into the town to see the Abbey. Now a ruin, it must have been splendid in its day - as long as any of the great cathedrals in France, if not as high. I bought a beautiful olive wood chalice in the Abbey shop, just big enough to hold a tealight - another gem for the journey.

The rest of the day was spent exploring the alternative culture that dominates Glastonbury's shopping streets. There were dozens of shops dedicated to new age spirituality of all kinds, offering the spiritual seeker as many gems as there are journeys - statues of the Buddha, and the Hindu god Ganesh, actual gems and crystals of all shapes and sizes, Wiccan and Pagan artefacts, Celtic crosses, and much material about King Arthur, for Glastonbury has a strong association with him. Even in the Abbey ruins, there is a place which marks the putative grave of Arthur and his queen, Guinevere. There were also several amazing bookshops whose contents covered all aspects of new age spirituality, and many places offering healing and therapies of various kinds. It was fascinating.

These days have shown me again that there are as many ways of walking the spiritual path as there are people to walk it, and that each is valid to those who follow it. The important thing is to realise that we are all fellow pilgrims on this journey through life together, and that we need to show love and understanding to each other, not fear and intolerance. I know that this is terribly cliched, but I think it cannot be said too often. There is room for us all, regardless of which gems we use to guide us. So long as the outcome of the journey is to make us kinder and more tolerant, rather than the opposite.

The partiality of labels

2011-10-17T14:32:00.000+01:00

It is a very human thing to categorise people by assigning them labels. Their effect can go very deep - children and adults alike can be deeply scarred by the labels others give to them or their siblings and friends - "the fat one", "the thick one", "the pretty one", "the clever one", "the artistic one", "the nerd", "the wimp", "the geek". The list goes on.

When the picture above was posted on Facebook, I giggled. Then I looked again, and realised that the point of the joke was that we so often judge by appearances. The colourful bird on the left may be a serious intellectual, and the sober-looking one on the right may be a happy-go-lucky free spirit. You can't tell by just looking.

The problem with labels is their partiality. They are 'partial' in two ways: firstly, they only describe one aspect of each complex human being, and secondly, they are partial in the sense of being biassed - they put people into categories, and divide the world into Us and Them, which is always a bad thing.

It is natural to try to make sense of our world by putting things and people into groups, and to use adjectives to describe these groups. But it can be both deceptive and damaging to do so. When we label people, we are making a value judgement about them, and lumping them together with others who may only share one characteristic with them.

Once again, the Quakers have it right when they write in Advices and Queries: "Respect the wide diversity among us in our lives and relationships. Refrain from making prejudiced judgements about the life journeys of others. Do you foster the spirit of mutual understanding and forgiveness which our discipleship asks of us? Remember that each one of us is unique, precious, a child of God." (italics mine)

Or as the Charter for Compassion has it: "The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. ... And to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect." Which means treating everyone as individuals, and not assigning labels.

The right thing for the right reason

2011-10-10T14:45:00.000+01:00

A few days ago, my friend and colleague Danny Crosby published a blogpost about that still small voice that can be heard in the silence. One phrase really jumped out at me: "the voice of conscience that lives in that space between what we say and what we do, between the talk and the walk."

For me, the voice of conscience urges us to act with integrity - to be honest, straight and honourable in all our dealings and doings, whether or not anybody knows about it. The thing that matters is that we know we have done the right thing for the right reason. A more down to earth example is that of a blacksmith mending a cart:

"Always do the very best job you can," he said on another occasion, as he put a last few finishing touches with a file to the metal parts of a wagon tongue he was repairing.
"But that piece goes underneath," Garion said. "No one will ever see it."
"But I know it's there," Durnik said, still smoothing the metal. "If it isn't done as well as I can do it, I'll be ashamed every time I see this wagon go by - and I'll see the wagon every day."

So integrity may be defined as doing the right thing for the right reason. But there is more to it than that. I used to be a librarian, so the first thing I do when I want to find out what something means is to turn to a reference book, in this case The Concise Oxford Dictionary. The dictionary defines integrity as "wholeness, entirety, soundness, uprightness, honesty." It means adopting a whole heart and soul approach to our lives, so that we do not detract from our spiritual wholeness by any mean action or thought. This is a lot harder than it sounds - most people (and I would certainly include me in this) often fall short of this ideal, and compromise our standards of what we know to be right, falling into the gap between the talk and the walk.

I think that integrity means more than this, however. To me, the most important part of that definition is "wholeness." For example, you can talk about a machine or a building having 'structural integrity', which means that all the parts of it fit together in the right way and work together. Going back to people, it means striving towards the best we know, acting consistently according to what we believe is right, and not allowing ourselves to deviate from this standard. In this way, our whole selves, body, mind and soul, can have integrity and wholeness.

Abraham Lincoln

Acting with integrity also involves thinking for yourself. I love Abraham Lincoln's words: "I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to the light I have." This implies making a judgement about what you think and believe to be right and true, and then sticking to it, no matter what anybody else thinks.

It is not an easy path, but the attempt has to be made.

Lesson from a laid-back cat

2011-10-07T10:35:00.000+01:00

At our annual Unitarian Summer School, the topic of the workshop group I was in was "inner peace". We looked at various different paths to this desirable goal, and one that really caught my attention was the idea of Sabbath observance; of resting on the seventh day. Generally I find that it is only too easy to do bits & pieces of work every day, whether for church or domestic, and never really have a proper day off. Coincidentally, I had bought a book on the subject a few weeks earlier, and had found the idea very attractive, but hadn't done anything about it. However, at Summer School, a group of us decided to pledge ourselves to making the effort to practice Sabbath observance in our own lives at home, and on Tuesday evening, my first Sabbath started with a lit candle and a shared meal.

On the Wednesday, my husband and son were at work and my daughter was at school, so I was free to carry out my intention of observing a day of rest. I had decided that it would be a screen-free day - no computer, no mobile phone, no TV, and also a housework-free day. On normal days it is my practice to get up, have a shower, have breakfast, and then log in to the computer to check any incoming e-mails, and to look on Facebook.

I had decided to spend the day stitching, reading, journalling and reflecting, perhaps listening to some classical music, but nothing rowdy. But by half-past nine in the morning, I was feeling decidedly twitchy, as though I ought to be doing something. At this point I realised that Lynne Baab, author of Sabbath Keeping, had been right. I too am one of those people who has been sucked into the trap of judging myself and my life by what I do, and by what I achieve. The tricky bit of the day was going to be slowing down, stopping, just being. And trying to find God in the silence.

Lynne Baab suggests that as the Sabbath is supposed to be about resting in God's presence, one should spend some time sitting, just breathing, being, rather than doing. I have always found this hard. But on Wednesday, I was taught how to be still, and how to simply be, by my cat, Bruno. He came and sat on my knee, and I stroked him, and he purred, and then had a doze, while I just sat, and reflected on the love and trust he gives me, no matter what I do. My cat was an angel that day, a messenger of the divine.

One laid-back cat

Several things about this first Sabbath day surprised me: how long the day seemed, and how slowly it passed (although this was not a bad thing, just surprising); how much I missed writing on a computer - using pen and paper now seems odd; and the strong feeling of disconnection that came from not checking my e-mails or being on Facebook.

But it was a good day. I did feel rested, and by the end of the day (thanks to Bruno) I had relaxed sufficiently to be still, and to trust to God to do the rest. I appreciated the gift of unhurried time, the opportunity to pause, to reflect, to think, without feeling that I had to dash off and do the next thing on the to-do list.

How little it takes to make a difference

2011-09-30T14:42:00.000+01:00

It is amazing how little it takes to make a difference to the feel and shape of someone's day. Today I went to visit a friend in hospital, and, as is customary (or so I thought) I took her a bunch of flowers. Only to learn that flowers on wards are now strictly forbidden because of "water contamination". So I had to take them away again. But at least my friend realised that I had been thinking of her.

My original thought had been to stick them back on the back seat of my car, and take them back home with me. But then, at the main entrance to the hospital, I walked past two women (I guess mother and grown-up daughter) who were obviously waiting for a taxi or something. On impulse, I presented the older lady with the flowers. And her whole face lit up: "It's my birthday on Monday!" she said. So I wished her a happy birthday and went on my way.

I love the words of Frederick Buechner about how we act towards strangers can have a real knock-on effect. he writes: "As we move around this world and as we act with kindness, perhaps, or with indifference or with hostility towards the people we meet, we are setting the great spider web atremble. The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops, or in what far place my touch will be felt."

It is lovely to think that perhaps my gift of flowers to that woman might have that sort of impact on her day, and hence on those around her. It also made my day - her happiness made me feel good! It is amazing how little it takes to make a difference - to my life, and to that of others. May I live to make it so.

The Power of Poetry

2011-09-21T13:58:00.001+01:00

Somebody once defined poetry as "the best words in the best order" and I have to agree. I have just been introduced to the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke (specifically his Book of Hours: Love Poems to God in a lovely translation by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy) and have been blown away by them.

Rainer Maria Rilke

So many beautiful images, which really speak to my condition. Reading slowly through the book this morning was a huge pleasure, and I feel spiritually nourished. Let me share just one of his poems:

"I live my life in widening circles

that reach out across the world.

I may not complete this last one

but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.

I've been circling for thousands of years

and I still don't know: am I a falcon,

a storm, or a great song?"

Most of the poems are quite short, but are deceptively deep, conjuring up some beautiful images of the relationship between God and humankind. The only other poet who has had this effect on me is Hafiz, the great 14th century Sufi master, whose poetry is likewise intimate and challenging at one and the same time. And I am filled with gratitude for this gift.

Dear God,
Thank you for giving us the power to create,
and to share with each other,
words which delight and inspire.

And thank you for poets,
whose words can ravish our hearts and minds,
shaking up our images of the world,
so that they fall in a new and different pattern,
enriching our lives.
Amen

Come, ye thankful people, come!

2011-09-15T13:27:00.001+01:00

Today I went for a walk in the fields around our village with a friend. All the wheat had been harvested, and the fields were looking bleached and untidy. It made me appreciate anew the miracle of the cycle of the seasons, which it is so easy to forget if the eyes of your mind are closed to the changes around you. And it made me think ...

Harvest Festival at Dudley Old Meeting House

I think it is a shame that Western society has grown so far away from the rhythm of the seasons, and the agricultural cycle. Even when I was a child, which I know my children think was in the Dark Ages, but really isn’t so long ago, harvest still meant something, at least to a child brought up in the countryside.

But now, ask anyone where their food comes from, and they are likely to reply "from the supermarket". You can buy pretty much anything all the year round - strawberries in December, parsnips in June. but this universal bounty has its downside. We have lost contact with the changing order of the season - and I think it is a loss. The Western demand for all kinds of everything all the year round has had far-reaching effects all over the world. Farmers in developing countries now grow "cash crops" such as coffee and bananas, instead of food to feed themselves and their families.

So why do we in our modern industrialised society still celebrate Harvest Festival? Is it out of a feeling of nostalgia for a more structured past, one in which the seasons followed each other in order, and still meant something? I think it is significant that it is the only pre-Christian festival still widely celebrated in Christian churches. I believe that in spite of our outward severance from the cycle of the season, our innermost selves still believe in its importance, and like to mark it in this way.

A prayer for Harvest time:

Creator of all, we thank you for once again bringing the annual miracle of growth to fruition.

We thank you for the sunshine and the rain, combining to nurture the plants and help them to grow.

We thank you for the good soil of the earth, which feeds the seeds and enables them to burgeon and bear fruit.

Make us aware that we are the guardians of the earth; that it is the only one we have; and that it is our duty to preserve it for future generations.

Help us to make wise choices, so that we can save what we still have; and try to put back something of what we and past generations have squandered.

Remind us that we are the lucky ones, with full bellies, clean water and full store cupboards; help us to remember that for the vast majority of the world’s people, such things are a luxury beyond imagining.

Help us to turn our prayers into action; to put our money where our mouth is; and to strive for a fairer world.

Creator of all, hear our prayer. Amen

Moving Forward With Hope

2011-09-11T15:02:00.000+01:00

Today is the 10th anniversary of the acts of mindless violence which have come to be known as "9/11", and there has been much coverage of it in the media. All day today in the US, special ceremonies are taking place at Ground Zero in New York, where the twin towers of the World Trade Center used to stand, which has become in a very particular way, hallowed ground.

One of the two memorial pools

Today a memorial is being dedicated, based on the footprints of the twin towers. The holes have been turned into memorials to the nearly 3,000 dead, their sides engraved with their names, which are movingly arranged by friendship or association, rather than alphabetically.

Rev. Donna Schaper, Senior Minister at Judson Memorial Church, near Ground Zero, shared a hopeful reflection on the Daily Devotions website yesterday, which sums up my hopes for the future. I choose to share her words, rather than writing my own, as this feels more fitting on this particular day:

"Across the street from Judson Memorial Church, on the South End of Washington Square Park, a seven-storey Spiritual Life Center is opening at New York University. Jews, Muslims, Christians, Sikhs and more will cohabit a space. Students will learn a new way of campus ministry. We joke about whether such ecumenicity is too close or too far from ground zero. Framed between this new building and our own rises a new smaller tower at the World Trade Center. From the arch at Washington Square Park North, you see all three buildings, as though they were always there, as though we hadn't lived through a decade of emptiness in the sky or immature religion on the ground, and Americans, Afghanis and Iraqis uselessly dead in wars no-one really understands. The artists and architects have given us what we couldn't find ourselves. They have shown us a new sky and a new scape. From these we will also draw a new spirit, a mature religion, and a revenge-free way of living under one sky.

God of earth and air and sky and water, God whom no one faith can capture, draw near and let this next decade be one of remembering how much we love each other. Help us beyond high-priced, useless revenge into free and abundant relationship. Amen."

May it be so. Amen

Picking Up Various Threads in the Dance of Life

2011-08-31T13:50:00.000+01:00

The title of this post comes from an e-mail by a friend who attended Summer School with me, and is now readjusting to life in the real world. It is a beautiful phrase, which for me conjures up the image of a maypole with bright ribbons of all colours and dancers weaving around it.

Maypole ribbons from deafpagancrossroads.com

I have danced around a maypole once (in my early youth) when we had one as part of the Summer Fete at my primary school. And I learned that the whole process is wonderfully ordered - you go under one ribbon and over the next, weaving a pattern with your neighbours. I still recall the feeling of relief when we completed our dance without tangling ourselves up!

But the phrase now has a different resonance. "picking up various threads in the dance of life." It shows the complexity of modern life - most of us don't just plod along on one road in one direction - we are involved in a complicated dance, weaving the different parts of our lives together, and hoping that something doesn't break or get tangled in something else. In the last month I have been at home (for five days) in France looking at Gothic cathedrals with my husband (for ten days) at home for four days frantically catching up with domestic tasks, at Summer School at Great Hucklow (for eight days) and now at home for a week before travelling back up to Hucklow for the Ministers' conference. It has taken a lot of hard work to keep the various threads moving in their right directions, but I'm nearly there.

The thing that makes the difference, for me, is the maypole in the middle - the still centre around which the dance of life takes place. One important element of this is my Unitarian faith, which colours my approach to life, giving me a spiritual centre - it helps me in the tasks of living in the moment, of counting my blessings, and trying to live with integrity. When I manage to find time for my daily spiritual practice (which hasn't always been daily recently), I feel so much more centred and at ease, so held in love.

But I would not be without the complexities of the dance of life - all the brightly swirling ribbons contribute to a rich web of interconnection, which lead to a sense of belonging, of being in community. I find that I need both to feel whole - the still centre of the maypole and the dizzying dance of the ribbons. The paradox of needing to be at rest, but restless to be in motion, is part of being human. We have to find the balance between them, where we can be a piece (and at peace) in life's rich pattern.

A Dormouse in Search of a Teapot

2011-08-23T08:35:00.000+01:00

I am currently at Unitarian Summer School at the Nightingale Centre, our conference centre in Great Hucklow, in the Derbyshire Peak District. I am spending a week in the company of forty or so fellow Unitarians - both old friends and new - and having a marvellous time. The workshop I am attending is both stimulating and spiritually nourishing, and the optional activities in the afternoons and evenings likewise.

Even the weather (never predictable in this part of the world) is cooperating, and has been warm and sunny. Who could ask for more?

Then, last night, after a substantial and delicious dinner, during which I had a really interesting conversation with some dear friends, the balance shifted.

I don't know whether I've been trying to cram too much into this summer (OK, I'm lying, I know fine well that I have) but it is as though somebody has flicked a switch inside me, and suddenly I become like the dormouse in Alice in Wonderland, tiredly in search of a teapot. I crave solitude and sleep and time to creep away and re-group.

The Dormouse (from the Disney film Alice in Wonderland)

The temptation at these large Unitarian events, such as Summer School and our General Assembly annual meetings, is to participate in everything, because it is all so fascinating, and stimulating and nourishing, and I don't want to miss out on anything, and I love spending time with my fellow Unitarians.

And yet I know that for my body's sake (and my soul's), I need to balance this craving with a bit of downtime - some periods alone, to think, to meditate, to pray, perhaps just to take a deep breath and relax. We are complex organisms, and need to pay attention when our bodies crave rest. The alternative is over-stimulation and eventual burnout.

So, like the dormouse, I said good-night, and went in search of my teapot.

Penny Plain or Tuppence Coloured (reprise)

2011-08-09T18:06:00.000+01:00

On reflection I have come to realise that my attitude towards art in a religious setting is strangely inconsistent. I find the calligraphy and floral decoration in a mosque very beautiful. And memories of a visit to the Russian Orthodox St. Isaac's Cathedral in Moscow in 1987 come back to me. Outside, it looks a bit like St. Paul's Cathedral, but inside, there is the most magnificent iconostasis (wall of icons), which again I found beautiful and awe-inspiring.

It seems that my Puritanical sensibilities are only disturbed in a West European context. Such as a recent (2008) visit to the Berliner Dom, when I was shocked by all the gold, and by the huge statues of the giants of the Reformation, Luther, Melanchthon, Calvin and Knox. (To be fair, I think that they would have been shocked to find statues of themselves in a Protestant cathedral!)

It seems that I am the child of the Reformation, with an in-built and thoughtless bias against "images" in a place of worship. I am not proud of this. I worry that my reaction varies as much according to aesthetic taste as to religious sensibilities.

A beautiful Virgin and Child in Reims Cathedral

For example, in Laon Cathedral yesterday, I noticed three different statues of the Virgin Mary and Child, and had different reactions to each. I am so not proud of this. There was a creamy white one, made of stone or resin, in the worship area in the transept. And I thought "I can see that she would be a good aid to devotion." Then there was a larger one carved from dark brown wood, which I admired for the beauty of its carving.

But lastly, there was one which I saw as tawdry, painted crudely in a white robe with a blue sash, an ugly face, and with a rosary draped over her arm, which I found to be totally inappropriate. After all, Jesus' mother was a Jewess.

But it was this statue which had the most candles lit in front of it, and which was obviously used for intercessory prayer to Sainte Marie de Laon. My lapsed Catholic husband laughed at my indignation, and poked fun at my Protestant prediliction for taking things too literally. He pointed out that the literal truth is not the key thing for Catholics; it is what (or who) such a figure represents (i.e. the Mother of God and Queen of Heaven) that matters.

Suitably chastened, I have realised that I need to be more open-minded and open-hearted, and to exercise what Karen Armstrong would call compassion when confronted with religious traditions that don't chime with my own. If a blue and white madonna provides comfort, who am I to criticise?

Penny Plain or Tuppence Coloured?

2011-08-07T16:37:00.002+01:00

Do you like your religion penny plain or tuppence coloured? In Christian terms, I would guess that if you are Protestant, the answer is likely to be the former, if Catholic, the latter. This difference was brought home to me yesterday evening, when we went to a light-show at Amiens Cathedral, which ingeniously projected colour onto the very elaborate facade, to make it look as though it was painted.

Oh. My. It was breathtaking, incredible, awe-inspiring. As my husband commented, just imagine being a mediaeval person arriving here on a pilgrimage to see John the Baptist's head (which rather grisly relic is kept in the Cathedral) or on your way to St. Iago de Compostela. Imagine the awe and reverence this building would inspire. Then, walking into that lofty vaulted space and participating in the high mystery of the mass, with its chanting and incense and bells. It must have been a mind-blowing experience.

And I was not unaffected. I can recall feeling similarly blown away the first time I saw a video of the Hindu festival of Diwali - it was all so bright, so rich, so vivid, and yes, so awe-inspiring.

And yet, so very unlike the usual monochrome, non-ritualistic Unitarian, words-based hymn-sandwich type service, where the closest we get to ritual is the lighting of the chalice at the beginning of the service, and maybe a few candles of joy and concern.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating loads of symbolism and ritual in the average Unitarian service, far from it. We come from a very different religious tradition, where it is considered to be important that the congregation is intellectually engaged with the service. And that is good. But as I have said in another blogpost, there is nothing wrong with engaging the heart and the senses too; perhaps a little more light and colour and ritual on occasion would not do us any harm.

There was an interesting coda to all this. Today we visited Laon Cathedral, which inside is much more austere and much less highly decorated - there was less gold statuary around the place, and the nave soars upwards towards the beautiful vaulting, and forwards to the magnificent rose window in the east end. The effect was light and airy; and I felt so much more at ease. Although I can be thrilled and awe-inspired by light and drama, too much fills me with unease. The light and austere interior of Laon Cathedral was much more to my spiritual taste than the decorated glory of Amiens.

The Gospel according to Jeremy

2011-08-03T15:45:00.000+01:00

You get some funny surprises in this job. Of all the people I would have suspected that I would learn a spiritual truth from, one of the last on my list would have been Top Gear presenter Jeremy Clarkson. And yet it was so.

I've been dipping into The World According to Clarkson in the bath, because my Kindle isn't waterproof, and what is a bath without reading material? Some of his writing makes me "tut" out loud, because I disagree so violently with his views (although how much of it is tongue-in-cheek I am not sure); some is downright funny (for example an article about the contents of the average woman's handbag); and there is the occasional gem ...

"a parent can only be as happy as their least happy child"

It doesn't matter how old they get; if the child is unhappy, most parents will be too. Today has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster; shopping for difficult-to-find clothes for her, and facing up to the fact that, yes, his car has had its day, and we need to find a new(er) one. The parental instinct is still to "make it better", in spite of the fact that both of them are quite old enough to sort most things out for themselves.

Children continue to have a huge impact on their parents' lives for as long as they're around. When they're little, doing anything has to be planned around meal and nap times, favourite toys and so on. when they start school, the shape of your day revolves around dropping off and picking up times - it is not until they reach their teens realy that you can start to give them some independence (and, incidentally, get some back for yourself!) Even then, you worry about where they are, who they're with, what they're doing, are they all right and so on.

The thing that doesn't change, I have found, is your love for them. The strength of my love for both my children is unlimited - when my son was born I was quite taken aback by the sheer instinctive ferocity of it. And it never stops - at various times I have been incredibly annoyed, frustrated, and fed-up with the behaviour of one or the other of them, but underneath it all, I always love them. And this love makes it very hard to let them go. You know the lovely saying "You can only give your children two things in life - roots to grow, and wings to fly." I've done my best to provide the roots bit, but the wings are much harder. Libby Purves puts it beautifully in her book How Not To Be A Perfect Family: "To weigh a theoretical danger against an overwhelming love is the hardest thing in the world.

And yet, I know that I must let go, not all at once, but gradually - let them make their own decisions, and, harder still, make their own mistakes. Otherwise they won't grow into sensible, responsible adults. Knowing all the time that if they do foul up, I'm going to feel as guilty as hell for not intervening! Mother-love takes you that way - you want your children to have happy and fulfilled lives, and accepting that Mother doesn't always know best is a hard lesson for any Mum to learn. In a way, I think it's the toughest test of your love for them - that stepping back out of the centre of their lives and letting them grow into themselves.

High above the Clouds

2011-07-28T10:02:00.000+01:00

Flying across the Atlantic, high above the snowfield of clouds last week, I had some thoughts:

I reflect on the manmade-ness of human time. Because humans have divided the world into time zones, I will be going back in time five hours during this journey. Yet from my window I can see the engine and wing moving serenely forwards over the endless miles of fluffy white clouds.

Another odd thing is the strong inclination of my brain to "make sense" of what my eyes are seeing, so for example at this moment, I could swear that I was looking out over the snow to the sea in the distance, and beyond that, the blue horizon. There are clouds overhead, and another aircraft is leaving a vapour trail high above us. We seem to be crawling along, hardly moving, but I know we are travelling at hundreds of miles an hour, completing a journey across the Atlantic in hours rather than days.

A break in the clouds below looks like a blue lake. ... Just now there was a proper break in the clouds, and to my amazement I could see the sea, thousands of feet below. 'The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls.'- thank you, Susan Cooper.

It was a wonderful experience - I was so grateful for the majesty and awesomeness of it all.

Coming Down to Earth

2011-07-25T14:18:00.000+01:00

I have just spent a wonderfully stimulating and spiritual week on Star Island, off the coast of New Hampshire, on the Lifespan Religious Education conference. The setting was beautiful (even if the weather was about twice as hot as I would have liked), the workshop I was attending (on using social media intelligently to spread the Unitarian word, led by the dynamic Peter Bowden http://www.uugrowth.com/ ) was exciting and stimulating and insightful, and I have made many new UU friends, which is lovely.

Now I am home, having slept the clock round, and work and domesticity beckon. My heart and half of my mind are still on Star, but there are so many things I need to do here. E-mails to respond to, reports and a newsletter to write, shopping, washing and ironing to do. So I need to re-focus.

As so often, I turn to the Quaker Advices and Queries for advice. And I find two sentences which give me the answers I need:

"Seek to know an inward stillness, even amid the activities of daily life." and

"Be aware of the spirit of God at work in the ordinary activities and experience of your daily life."

These give me the power to come back down from the spiritual high I have been on for the last week, and to re-connect with the mundane and everyday tasks of my life, and to do so happily, without regret. I can look back on my week on Star Island with joy, and with a little wistfulness, but here is where I belong, where I must do "the something I can do."

Be ye therefore perfect

2011-07-07T08:34:00.001+01:00

I've just been writing my last essay for Regent's Park College, about Pelagius and St. Augustine. Pelagius was a late 4th century British monk, who acquired quite a following in the dying days of the Roman Empire for proclaiming that humankind had free will to choose to do right, and the responsibility to follow all the law and the teachings of the Gospel. And ran up against Augustine of Hippo, who believed that we are all rotten with the taint of original sin, totally unable to do anything right except through God's grace. Guess which one I am in sympathy with?

The thing I found very interesting is that both Pelagius and one of my all-time heroes, 19th century American Unitarian minister Theodore Parker, were both inspired by the same bit of Matthew's gospel: "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." (Matt 5:48) Both men believed that humankind has the potential to be perfect, otherwise God would not have commanded us to strive for it. There is an absolutely beautiful passage in Theodore Parker's address The Transient and Permanent in Christianity, which goes like this:

"Christianity is a simple thing, very simple. It is absolute, pure morality; absolute, pure religion; the love of man; the love of God acting without let or hindrance. Its watchword is, Be perfect as your Father in heaven. The only form it demands is a divine life; doing the best thing in the best way, from the highest motives; perfect obedience to the great law of God."

What a challenge! And what an inspiration! Whenever I read those words, it makes me want to sit up straight, and do better.

One of the authors of the books on St Augustine that I was reading for the essay accused Pelagius of a sort of "icy Puritanism", in which there was no room for backsliders and ordinary, everyday, weak, sinful human beings. And I guess I see his point. The sort of church I want to belong to would have the high aims of Pelagius and Theodore Parker to inspire us to do the best we can in all the ways that we can, but also some cradling arms and listening ears to catch the broken and the fallen, and help them back up. Otherwise it could be terribly judgemental, and holier-than-thou, which is not what our inclusive, loving denomination is about.

Senses and Spirituality

2011-06-24T16:58:00.000+01:00

Human beings are complicated organisms - we have bodies, we have minds, and we have souls. In order to grow into the best people that we can be, we need to nourish all of them. In religion, our bodies often get ignored; all the emphasis is on what we think and believe and feel. But our bodies need nourishment too - we have to eat a balanced diet, exercise regularly, get enough sleep and so on. if we neglect them, we will become unhealthy, and all of a sudden everything seems twice as difficult, like pushing a hippopotamus uphill. If we look after our bodies, they will look after us.

Rabbi Lionel Blue shared an interesting viewpoint about bodies when he wrote: "My body is not just a lump of meat. It thinks, and has its own insight. Many times it came to my aid when my mind and my soul could not help me. I was in a train at night, surrounded by Arabs making their long way home to Morocco. Our politics and our religions were separated by two decades of misunderstanding and political animosity. It was hunger which brought us together, not theology or ideology; common hunger and the desire to have a little taste of what the other person was eating."

Before I read that, I hadn't really thought about my body having feelings of its own. But it's true: if I am sad, I don't want reasons or explanations or even spiritual insights; I just want a cuddle. And it is my body - through my senses - which gives me access to a whole world of beauty and spirituality. This morning, on my run, the feel of the sunlight on my skin, the taste of cool water, the sight of summer flowers by the roadside and the sound of birdsong combined into one joyous paean of praise for the universe.

Through what we see and hear, smell, touch and taste, we can be transported from our mundane lives into another dimension.

Bodies have their own memories too - for example, have you ever been transported to another time and another place by a smell or a sound or a taste? I only have to hear the first chord of The Air That I Breathe by the Hollies to be back in 1974, fourteen years old and very sad. I cry every time I hear it - can't help it! Even though the circumstances of my life have changed beyond recognition, and the emotional scars of young love have long healed, my fourteen-year-old self is somewhere in there, and reacts when she hears that song.

Human beings are indeed complicated organisms, and I find the fact of our bodies, minds and souls working together wondrous to contemplate. May they all be nourished in the coming days.

Living a full life

2011-06-17T15:46:00.000+01:00

One thing I am learning is that living a full life is not the same as living a busy life. Living a busy life may be stressful and draining, as pressure piles upon pressure, and we wonder how on earth we are going to meet the next deadline. Living a full life is not the same (although a busy life well-lived may be full as well). I think that living a full life is about the quality rather than the quantity of our activities, and about the perspectives we have on those activities.

I derive a great deal of inspiration and comfort from reading the Quaker Advices and Queries. Two of these seem to be particularly relevant to the issue of living a full life:

"7. Be aware of the spirit of God at work in the ordinary activities and experience of your daily life. Spiritual learning continues throughout life, and often in unexpected ways.There is inspiration to be found all around us, in the natural world, in the sciences and arts, in our work and friendships, in our sorrows as well as in our joys. Are you open to new light, from whatever source it comes? Do you approach new ideas with discernment?"

To me this Advice is reminding me that the whole of life is sacred, and that if we can just try to live mindfully, with an awareness of the sacred and the numinous in our everyday lives, those same everyday lives will be much fuller and richer and more rewarding. I also believe that being "open to new light" is a wonderful way of living a full life - there is always room for new insights and revelations in our minds and hearts - or there should be.

The other is no. 27: "Live adventurously. When choices areise, do you take the way that offers the fullest opportunity for the use of your gifts in the service of God and the community. Let your life speak."

Live adventurously. Wow! There's a challenge. With our busy lives, it is tempting just to look after your own, doing the bare minimum for other people. In these days of DVDs and home entertainment centers and the Internet at our fingertips, it's very easy to retreat to our own little castles and pull up the drawbridge. Using our gifts "in the service of God and the community" takes much more effort. But it can be very rewarding to volunteer for something, not for the kudos it will bring you, but because it's the right thing to do.

My mother is a case in point. When my sister went up to university, 22 years of dedicated child nurturing came to an abrupt end. But instead of sitting at home feeling sorry for herself, she went out and became a Citizens Advice Bureau volunteer. That was in 1981, and she did it for more than 25 years. She became one of the most respected debt counsellors in the county, and found a great deal of fulfilment in helping those less fortunate than herself. It also broadened her outlook on life and society.

In the late 1970s, the print and poster shop Athena International also sold books, with titles like The Language of Friendship and The Language of Happiness. Each consisted of a collection of short statements or poems or quotations on the topic concerned. My favourite, to which I still turn (indeed it is falling apart) is Creeds to Love and Live By, and I have used much of the wisdom contained within its covers as readings in services.

One of my favourites, by Sidney Lovett, chaplain of Yale University from 1932 - 1958, is all about how to live a full life:

"Give the best you have received from the past, to the best that you may come to know in the future.
Accept life daily not as a cup to be drained,
But as a chalice to be filled with whatsoever things are honest, pure, lovely and of good report.
Making a living is best undertaken as part of the more important business of making a life.
Every now and then, take a good look at something not made with hands -
A mountain, a star, the turn of a stream.
There will come to you wisdom and patience and solace and, above all,
The assurance that you are not alone in the world."

The Spice of Life

2011-06-13T09:57:00.000+01:00

It was the 18th century poet and hymn writer William Cowper who wrote "Variety's the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavour." This has been brought home to me for the umpteenth time in the last 24 hours.

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I travelled up to Friargate Unitarian Chapel Derby for the last service of my student pastorate (which has been going on since last October). I've been running an engagement group called Building Beloved Community, and the half-dozen faithful attenders have entered wholeheartedly into the process; some wonderful deep sharing has taken place. During this last session, we all had a go at formulating a covenant for our congregations, which was both fascinating and challenging.

This was followed by the service at 6 pm. I was feeling kinda sad, because I have grown very fond of the Derby (and Mansfield and Hinckley) folk. I was just about to announce the last hymn when Elaine (Derby's Secretary) took the wind out of my sails completely by presenting me with a beautiful bunch of tulips and a book-token. I had been expecting nothing of the kind, and was totally blown away by their appreciation - it had been both a pleasure and a privilege to get to know them all and to serve them.

The journey back down the M1 in the rain went in a flash. I was riding on a tide of euphoria, feeling so very blessed and lucky. Drank a glass of wine and went to bed feeling very good.

Came downstairs this morning and went into the kitchen, or should I say bombsite? OK, I exaggerate slightly, it was only in its usual post-weekend mess - the dishwasher needed emptying; there was stuff all over the sides, and the floor needed sweeping. The bubble burst. I sighed and set to work, and in a few minutes, all was (relatively) pristine again (or at least clean and tidy enough to pass muster).

The thing that I find irritating (and am trying to rise above) is that it will all need doing again tonight, and tomorrow and tomorrow. Repetitive housework is seriously not my thing - it comes about number 576 on my list of priorities, and I'm pretty good at sitting at the computer surrounded by chaos, up to a certain point. Then it all gets to me, and I have to have a blitz. I envy people like my friend Ali, who seems to really enjoy housework, and whose house is always immaculate. But here's the thing: I'm not prepared to put in the work to make this possible, which must mean something. It's about finding a balance, I think.

So as I was standing with my arms up to the elbows in washing up, I consciously tried (again) to count my blessings - that I was able to use hot, soapy water to wash up with, which was available by simply turning on a tap; that I owned all these things that needed washing, so that meal preparation is an easy task; and yes, that variety is the very spice of life. Last night, the goodwill and connection I felt with the Unitarians at Derby was wonderful. But I couldn't live on those heights all the time - it is good to be brought back down to earth by a spot of domesticity.

The wonder of it all

2011-06-09T14:38:00.001+01:00

I spend a lot of time on my computer most days of the week, either working, or browsing Unitarian blogs or Facebook. Having been born in a pre-personal computer age, (which really wasn't that long ago, no matter what my kids might think!) I am still blown away by the sheer wonder of it all. This was brought home to me by a comment, made about my last blogpost here, on Facebook, by Rev. Victoria Weinstein, who is mentioned in it. She had been alerted to it by a mutual friend, Paul Wilczynski, whose wife comes from my small part of the UK. So an American Unitarian Universalist minister in Massachusetts made contact with a British Unitarian ministry student in Northamptonshire, linked by a friend in South Carolina - and almost instantaneously. Can you imagine how long it would have taken, and what a complicated undertaking it would have been, before the existence of the World Wide Web?

It was Unitarian Sir Tim Berners-Lee who came up with the idea of the World Wide Web. Joshua Quittner, technology editor of Time magazine, describes what happened:

"he cobbled together a relatively easy-to-learn coding system — HTML (HyperText Mark-up Language) — that has come to be the lingua franca of the Web; it's the way Web-content creators put those little colored, underlined links in their text, add images and so on. He designed an addressing scheme that gave each Web page a unique location, or url (universal resource locator). And he hacked a set of rules that permitted these documents to be linked together on computers across the Internet. He called that set of rules HTTP (HyperText Transfer Protocol). And on the seventh day, Berners-Lee cobbled together the World Wide Web's first (but not the last) browser, which allowed users anywhere to view his creation on their computer screen. In 1991 the World Wide Web debuted, instantly bringing order and clarity to the chaos that was cyberspace."

The thing that brings a lump to my throat is that Berners-Lee could have become a millionaire, a billionaire, as a result of this inspired invention. But from the very beginning, he has fought to keep the Web open to all and free to all. Which is such a gift to the world. I salute him.

1991 - that is only 20 years ago. The world has changed so much since I was a little girl in the sixties. My life as a child then was not enormously different to that of my parents in the 1930s. OK, there were more cars, and we had a television, but my childhood activities and pleasures were much the same as theirs had been: exploring the neighbourhood (I was lucky enough to be brought up in the country); reading (voraciously!); playing board games; doing jigsaw puzzles; building lego - simple pleasures.

I think that things started to spiral out of control with the advent of the first PCs - personal computers - in the early 1980s. For the first time, this amazing technology could be owned and used by ordinary people. My first computer was an Amstrad PCW, with green letters on a black screen, and 256K of memory. And I thought it was brilliant! Then Bill Gates introduced Windows, and Tim Berners-Lee invented the World Wide Web, and the whole computer world took a giant leap forward. On the entertainment front, first videos, then CDs and DVDs and MP3 players and satellite television changed the way we experience music and films. Today, hundreds of every-day objects have little computers inside them to make them work. Mobile phones are everywhere, and the latest smartphones are mini-computers all by themselves.

The sad thing about all this progress is that it is all taken so much for granted, especially by young people, who have grown up with it. Remember, it is twenty years since the invention of the World Wide Web, so a whole generation has never known a world without it, my children included. If my husband and I talk to them about what growing up in the sixties was like, the response is "how did you manage without it all?" coupled with relief that they don't have to. Sometimes I will comment on how amazing I find a particular piece of technology (for example when I watch the How does it work? programme on the Discovery channel) and they look at me with pitying smiles. They are very hard to impress. Their sense of wonder seems to have atrophied.

And I think that's a shame. I hope I'm not sounding like a Grumpy Old Woman, but I really do worry about our dependence on technology for our work and leisure. I'm a victim of this as much as anyone else; if my computer breaks down, or I can't access my e-mails or the internet for any reason, it feels as though my arm has been cut off. I can't do much of my job of serving Unitarians in the Midlands without it. But I think that it is only too easy to take all our modern marvels for granted (until they go wrong). We live in an immensely complex world, entirely reliant on the work of others and on technological innovation to live our lives. We press a switch and the computer turns on, the light turns on, the car starts. We turn on a tap and the water comes out, fresh and drinkable. We go shopping, and the shops are full of goods that have been delivered by a complex logistics network. How often do we actually consider where things come from, and how many people we are dependent on for our consumption? All these things are taken for granted; it is the nature of the complex society we live in. It is mundane, every-day, not a matter for wonder.

Well, maybe it should be. If we lived mindfully, with awareness, paying attention to the every-day miracles that make up our lives, maybe our sense of wonder would return. I have a book at home called Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Every-day Life, which has really made me re-think how I approach that same every-day life. Frederic and Mary-Ann Brussat, the authors, explain: "The readings in this book reflect the wide variety of approaches and experiences of the sacred in everyday life. Many of us recognise the presence of Spirit moving in our lives through encounters with things, places, nature, and animals ... Our activities also put us on a spiritual path, [as does] being moved to service. A spiritual perspective is perhaps most evident in our relationships. We use this term broadly to refer to the many connections in our lives."

Reading it was a revelation for me. The Brussats have collected hundreds of examples from contemporary books and films, which they use to show the reader how to see the world with fresh eyes. Before reading it, it would never have occurred to me to thank my car for getting me where I am going, or to see the spiritual benefits of washing up mindfully. But I know now.

This is a very different approach to life. It involves being open and trusting, taking life as it comes, with thankfulness. Most importantly, it involves being aware, all the time, of the marvels around you, whether they are people or places or things. I'm not saying that we can do all this all at once; it is the work of a lifetime. But just being aware of this different approach to life may make a difference; it may help us to realise that the world is a pretty amazing place, and to count our blessings at the wonder of it all.

Unitarian and/or Free Christian?

2011-06-04T08:28:00.001+01:00

Our parent body is known as the General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Christian Churches. The other day I was having a fascinating exchange of views with fellow ministry student Jim Corrigall about what these two designations mean, and which of the two is most important to us.

In the red corner, Sue Woolley, Unitarian. In the blue corner, Jim Corrigall, Free Christian. Ding, ding, round one.

The discussion started when we were talking about the evening event which Golders Green Unitarians are hosting on 11th July – a talk by Unitarian Universalist minister Rev. Dr. Victoria Weinstein, entitled ‘Conversation with Unitarian Christians’, which both of us will be attending, but for different reasons. Jim will be attending because he is co-convenor of the London District Liberal Christian Affinity Group, which is hosting the event. I will be attending for two reasons:

a) because I would like to hear what Victoria Weinstein’s theological viewpoint is, as an Christo-centric UU minister
b) because I am a huge fan of her alter-ego Peace Bang, who runs the amazing blog Beauty Tips for Ministers, and have wanted to meet her for years

For me, being a Unitarian involves being “open to new light from whatever source it comes”, to use the Quaker phrase, following the tenets of total respect for individual freedom of belief based on reason and conscience, and extending a broad tolerance and acceptance towards the sincerely-held beliefs of others. But working away in a little corner of my deepest beliefs all by itself until fairly recently was the proviso “except that I can’t accept the divinity of Jesus as a valid belief – I’m a Unitarian – that is what defines me.” I still find the designation “Unitarian Christian” quite uneasy, and would much prefer my Christo-centric friends to call themselves “Christian Unitarians”, with ‘Unitarian’ being the noun and ‘Christian’ being the adjective, rather than the other way round, because I see being Unitarian as “the important bit”. And I suspect that many Unitarians would feel the same – they might not admit it, but that proviso is there, ticking away at a very deep level.

Jim, on the other hand, describes himself as a “Free Christian” or “Liberal Christian” with pride, finds the teachings of Jesus and Jesus himself of fundamental importance, and argues that the current bias against Christianity within the Unitarian movement is intolerant and non-inclusive – positively un-Unitarian, in fact. I have to admit that he has a point – many Unitarians are distinctly “anti-Christian” in a way that they are not against the beliefs of any other religion – Buddhism, Hinduism etc. I think this is because they (we) have come to Unitarianism from a Christian background, and from a position of rejecting the tenets of Christianity. So we bring a lot of sub-conscious anti-Christian baggage with us, as I discovered a few months ago when I wrote an article for The Inquirer about attending a Baptist service, and was stunned by the vitriol of some of the responses.

When I was studying for the Worship Studies Course, Rev. Alex Bradley minister at Styal, and Chaplain to the Unitarian Christian Association, gently pointed out the importance of the Bible to English-speaking Unitarians, specifically: “The beauty of the language of the Book of Common Prayer and the Authorised Version. To make use of, and reference to, a literary tradition … is not necessarily to accept it uncritically. We can admire its aesthetic qualities, the truths it embodies, and leave out the rest. … Our Western culture, for good or ill, has been shaped by this collection of writings we call ‘The Bible’ and to ignore it is rather akin to ignoring the presence of the elephant in the drawing room.” The same is true of Christianity – in spite of secularisation, this is still a nominally Christian country, and it is deep in our culture.

Like many Unitarians, I was not brought up in a Unitarian context, and spent my primary years at a little school, which held assembly every day. We followed the round of the Christian year, and sang all the lovely Christian hymns, without questioning their meaning.

It was not until I hit teenage years that the doubts began to kick in. I had never attended a mainstream Christian church (except at Christmas). Then I found out that several of my friends were being confirmed. So I started to investigate Christianity a bit more deeply. With some reluctance, I realised that there were many things about being Christian that I simply couldn’t go along with. I watched Jesus of Nazareth on the TV, and was horrified by the barbarity of the trial and the crucifixion. This led to a fairly violent reaction – excuse me, I didn’t ask for this man to be put to death in this horrific way for me! And anyway, how could that possibly be? I also found the whole concept of communion impossible to stomach (if you’ll excuse the pun). How on earth could bread and wine be turned into flesh and blood? It was mystifying! And then I read the Athanasian and Nicene Creeds, and common sense really went out of the window! How, in the name of all logic, could someone be Three and One at the same time? Or created and uncreated? It just didn’t make sense. And as for the 39 Articles … well! And yet I still believed in God.

It was at this point that I had a long conversation with my father, who had been brought up a Unitarian, but who had not attended church for many years. He explained that there was an alternative to mainstream Christianity, which didn’t involve outraging your common sense, or requiring you to suspend disbelief. He gave me a copy of Alfred Hall’s little book Beliefs of a Unitarian, and it had a profound effect on me. So this is what it’s all about, I thought.

One of the important things that Dad and Alfred Hall taught me is that it is not necessary to throw the baby Jesus out with the Christian bathwater. What I mean by that is that you may not believe that Jesus was the divine Son of God, born of a virgin, crucified to save us from eternal hellfire, who rose again on the third day, and will sit at the right hand of the Father on judgement day. But the importance of the man and his teachings should not be underestimated. As a pattern and an example, he can hardly be bettered.

Historically, Unitarianism grew out of Christianity. The early Unitarians still believed in Jesus as divine, but not equal with God. By the end of the 18th century, Theophilus Lindsey, minister of the first avowedly Unitarian congregation in England, could write “the holy Jesus was a man of the Jewish nation, the servant of this God, highly honoured and distinguished by him.” I like and also agree with Alfred Hall’s reflection on the humanity of Jesus: “Unitarians believe that in regarding Jesus as a man, they pay him the loftiest tribute possible. If he had been God, there would have been nothing to wonder at either in his life or his words, for all things are possible with God. But when we say he met temptation to evil and conquered it with the strength of a man; when we say that, by the diligence of his search and the purity of his heart, he discovered truth which has helped millions of his fellows, we render him the highest praise.”

Today there is a wide spectrum of beliefs about Jesus within the Unitarian movement. Some Unitarians have rejected Jesus completely – won’t even say the Lord’s Prayer – and are distinctly uneasy if the readings in today’s service include a passage from the New Testament. Their belief in the essential unity of God (or the Spirit of Life or whatever) is so strong that they view anything that smacks of Christianity with deep suspicion. At the other end of the scale are the Liberal Christians, who cheerfully take communion, sing many Christian hymns with only minor word changes, and reverence Jesus above all other teachers. Some, as I have now discovered, even believe that he is divine. Yet others regard Jesus as one teacher among many, and look equally to the prophets of other faiths for inspiration and guidance. And that’s great – it is one of the strengths of our Unitarian tradition that such a diversity of belief can not only be tolerated, but wholeheartedly accepted. At least that is the theory!

It wasn’t until I talked to Jim that I truly realised how very Christian some Unitarians are – believing that Jesus is divine, for example. In the flyer for Victoria Weinstein’s talk, she is quoted as follows:

“Who is Jesus Christ to me? He is both a teacher of the Way, and the Way itself. For one who has always had a hard time grasping the concept of God … Jesus both points me toward a definition of God and then lives that definition … Jesus is my soul’s safety from all harm. He is the avatar of aloneness, a compassionate and unsentimental narrator of the soul’s exile on earth, and proof of the soul’s triumphant homecoming at the end of the incarnational struggle … I call myself a Christian because I am a disciple of Jesus Christ—not just Jesus-that-great-guy-and-teacher-with-the-long-hair-and-sandals but Jesus the living avatar of the great God and Jesus the Christ of Easter morning …”

Which point of view is way more Christian than most Unitarians would be happy to go along with, I guess. It is certainly not a viewpoint I could share. For me, one of the main points of being a Unitarian is that I believe with Alfred Hall in the true and total humanity of the first century Jewish prophet, Jesus, “that-great-guy-and-teacher-with-the-long-hair-and-sandals.” Yes.

And yet Jim, the Free Christian author of the flyer, comments: “This essentially mystical approach to Jesus is shared by several leading UU Christians -- as well as by many Hindus and Buddhists. It could also be a trend among Christians in our diverse denomination in the UK, but perhaps difficult to acknowledge for fear of being labelled ‘not Unitarian’.” Hmmmm.

For those of us who describe ourselves as ‘Unitarians’ on the grounds of our shared values, “mutual respect and goodwill in personal relations and constructive tolerance and openness towards the sincerely-held beliefs of others”, to quote our leaflet A Faith Worth Thinking About, this must surely include being tolerant and open towards liberal or free Christians. And according to Jim, this means taking on board that it is not only possible but acceptable for fellow Unitarians to hold Trinitarian beliefs – which is a new idea for many of us.

For others, however, this is a non-issue; for example, the Brook Street Chapel’s website describes it as: “a creedless church. We agree to differ while remaining united in friendship, fellowship and faith. Many of us are liberal Trinitarians, a large number are traditional Unitarians, and a few refuse any label. We believe that there are many different ways to God.” To which I would also add in the words of Cliff Reed: “no honest and sincere expression of belief should be discounted out of hand. To judge another’s faith is presumptuous and dangerous. All true expressions of the religious impulse come from our encounter with the wonder and mystery of the universe. All result from the joy and pain, the highs and lows of our life-experiences in this world. … Unitarians afford respect to all sincere believers of whatever faith. We seek to learn from the witness of all spiritual traditions, but we do not do so uncritically.” Which includes non-theistic beliefs too.

I guess the ultimate question is – what do we care most about? Rejecting Trinitarian Christianity, or being open and inclusive and tolerant and loving? Surely there is room for all of us in our wonderful, uncommon denomination, our faith without a creed. Surely we can agree to differ on our theology, and get on with the important stuff, which is making ourselves “welcoming, inclusive and a blessing to the wider world.” A lot of instinctive gut reactions will have to be consciously overcome, but if Unitarianism comes to be seen as a haven not only for free thinkers and spiritual seekers, but also for disillusioned liberal Christians, and we can spread the word about it, this might even help to reverse the decline in our numbers that is so worrying everybody at the moment.

It’s a thought …

Moments to be experienced

2011-06-02T15:05:00.000+01:00

"So the day became one of waiting, which was, he knew, a sin: moments were to be experienced; waiting was a sin against both the time that was still to come, and against the moments one was currently disregarding." (from Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman)

I really don't like waiting days. You know the kind of day I mean - when you've got things to do, but they're not particularly urgent or interesting, when your motivation to do anything at all is at a low ebb, when you've had all the baths you can usefully have (thank you Douglas Adams) and when you realise with a start that you've spent the last hour messing around on the computer, doing pointless quizzes and looking at other people's lives on Facebook.

It is at times like these - like right now to be honest - that I try to remember Neil Gaiman's Abbot of Black Friars - and realise again that moments are to be experienced, not wasted. And to recall that I am so damn lucky to be me, and to have my life in all its Western luxury - boredom is something that most of the world's population can only dream about - they are far too busy just surviving.

May I be thankful for my blessings and grateful for all the precious moments of now that I should fill with doing what I ought or what I like, but not frittering away.

Transcending Boundaries

2011-05-27T15:40:00.000+01:00

This week I was invited to speak to a small Christian house-group which is attached to the ecumenical church of Christ the Cornerstone in Milton Keynes. Two members of the group come along to Northampton Unitarians on 2nd and 4th Sundays, and they wanted the rest of the group to learn a little about Unitarianism. So I went.

It was a good experience - the half dozen or so people there learned a bit about Unitarianism, and I learned that there is a very wide range of beliefs within the Christian witness, and a heartening amount of mutual tolerance and inclusiveness.

As a result of that talk, I went to have a look at the Christ the Cornerstone website, which was fascinating. Five Christian denominations - Roman Catholic, Anglican, Baptist, Methodist and United Reformed - "are covenanted together to share their life in worship, understanding of each other and service to the community and to the wider world" to quote the home page. They seem to co-exist happily and peacefully in one ecumenical building. The four Protestant denominations lead ecumenical Protestant worship, taking it in turns. The Catholic members are expected to attend their own services, but are also able to attend the ecumenical services. They are also good on social witness and outreach, being involved in many aspects of the Milton Keynes community.

The church has loads of activities going on, including Friday lunchtime Prayers for Peace, in the little side chapel, which I have just attended. Led by a lovely Northern Irish lady who has just returned from a trip to Jerusalem, the readings and prayers came from many different faith traditions, and I could join in with a clear conscience. It was an interval of peace in a busy week, for which I am grateful.

Relishing Small Victories

2011-05-16T11:48:00.000+01:00

I'm not usually superstitious, but last Friday (the 13th) I got two pieces of bad news - not heart-shaking or life-changing, but two bits of news I didn't want to hear. And it got me down. In fact it made me feel quite sorry for myself, and hence self-centred. Thanks to the timely wisdom and compassion of a friend, I managed to get myself back into a healthier head-space, and not take my disappointment out on anyone else.

But it made me wonder about how vulnerable we all are to the rollercoaster that is life (to coin a cliche). We often lack the spiritual resilience to roll with the punches and to bounce back from small disappointments. I think we need to learn to be on the lookout for small things that go right, rather than beating ourselves up about every tiny little thing that goes wrong. At least I do. One of my favourite sources of spiritual wisdom is the poem Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. In this context, I'm particularly thinking of the lines

"Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans" and

"Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself"

Luckily for me, I was able to enjoy an achievement this morning - I ran a hilly 3 miles in 31:30, which for me was immensely satisfying. Running has this ability to take me out of my everyday preoccupations and make me concentrate more purely on relishing small victories - on a bad running day, just getting round the course is enough, on a good day, when I run a good time (for me) it's great. But either way, every run represents a small victory that I can take pleasure in. I know that I am so blessed to have this resource. For other people, it may be sorting socks into pairs, or cooking a perfect omelette, or the first time your child manages to do up their own shoes - doesn't matter what it is, so long as we are aware that we have achieved something, and take time out to celebrate that.

Moderation and Mindfulness

2011-05-10T13:46:00.003+01:00

"Try to live simply. A simple lifestyle, freely chosen is a source of strength."

In recent days, I have been reflecting on these short sentences from the Quaker Advices and Queries. In the nearly three months that have passed since I became an ex-smoker (you are never a non-smoker; it is like being an alcoholic - one will always be too many) I have been fairly indulgent about what I have eaten and drunk telling myself that I "deserve" this cake or that glass of wine, "as a reward". As a result of this, I have put on a few pounds, and have now reached the stage where all my clothes are feeling somewhat snugger than I would like. And as I cannot afford a new wardrobe, I have decided to say "Stop" and go on (yet another) diet.

Looking back over the twenty years since my son was born, I have been on many diets, always to lose the same 7-14 pounds. At the moment, to my secret horror, I weigh the same as I did when I was six months' pregnant (although I don't look it). I would just like to get back under 9 stone, which would be a healthy weight for my height. But because I "only" need to lose 10 or 12 pounds, and because most of my clothes still fit (more or less) I have been quietly sabotaging myself. I have realised that I am usually fine during the day, when I am busy, but that it is when sit down in the evening that I "reward" myself for being good all day by eating and drinking all the wrong things - wine, chocolate, crisps. So I need to make better choices.

So I am going to try to consciously and mindfully adopt a more "simple lifestyle, freely chosen" and make healthy eating and drinking choices for six days out of every seven. Then, on the seventh, I am going to enjoy some red wine and chocolate or even a curry to prove that I can eat "what I like" without going hog-wild, and without sabotaging myself.

It may sound odd to relate this resolution to religion or spirituality, but I do feel as though I have been gently nudged in the right direction by Someone. Perhaps that is what being mindful means - attending to the sacred in everyday life, however mundane it may seem.

Endings and Beginnings

2011-05-05T15:55:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was the first session of my last term at Harris Manchester College Oxford, where I am training to be a Unitarian minister. My two fellow students, Jim and Sheena, will be carrying on next year, and I felt quite sad to realise that I would no longer be with them. When I got home last night, there was an e-mail waiting from my Baptist friend Jennie, whose training to be a Baptist minister is likewise drawing to a close, and she was feeling sad and a little wistful too.

When I first heard that I had been accepted for ministry training, I was thrilled, but also quite apprehensive. A friend who is a minister warned "it will change you" and she was right. It is almost impossible to describe how, but now, nearly two years later, I do feel like a different person. I'm looking at the world from a different space, and it fills me with awe and gratitude and not a little wonder. I feel so blessed in having the opportunity to share the amazing faith that is Unitarianism with others, and I pray, that in however small a way, I will be able to keep the flame alight in the years to come.

Time passes; listen: time passes

2011-04-27T18:17:00.001+01:00

I have just been to the Unitarian General Assembly Annual Meetings, which this year were at Swansea University. The warmth of the welcome from the Welsh Unitarians will remain with me for a long time. And the setting was lovely - all we had to do to get to the beach was walk out of the front gate and cross the footbridge, which for someone who lives in rural Northamptonshire, just about as far away from the coast as you can get in England, was a delightful novelty.

One morning, I went for a run along the Prom Walk, which stretches for miles along Swansea's seafront. I was just about to turn back when I saw a sign for "Mumbles" and knew that I was in Dylan Thomas country. My parents had the original Argo recording of Under Milk Wood, starring Richard Burton and a very distinguished all-Welsh cast, and I have recently managed to get a copy of it on CD. Thomas was one of the people long years ago who taught me to love words, and to marvel at their ability to move human minds and hearts. I used to have the opening speech of the First Voice by heart - it is mesmerising in its hypnotic beauty and vividness, brought to life by Richard Burton's wonderful frayed-velvet voice.

Words have so much power, especially in conjunction with the human voice. They can be used to encourage, sustain, energise and uplift; or they can be used to arouse hatred, bitterness, despair and all other kinds of bad feelings. On the one side, look at someone like Martin Luther King and his "I have a dream" speech. On the other, turn on any documentary about World War II, and listen to Hitler mesmerising his German subjects into going along with policies of vengeful genocide.

Words have so much power. With one word of praise or blame, one human being can build another one up, or fling him or her into the pit of despair. The human memory has an uncanny knack of remembering words spoken in anger or despite, which can cause people with fragile self-esteem (that is to say, all of us, deep down) to think badly of themselves; whereas words of praise may be shrugged off. How many times have you heard an actor or singer say that they only remember what is said in the bad reviews, even if those are out-numbered ten times by positive ones?

Words have so much power. We all have the responsibility to use them wisely and well.

Wrestling with ethics in Pizza Hut

2011-04-07T15:05:00.000+01:00

My son passed his driving test on Tuesday, so I decided to take him out for lunch today to celebrate, and he chose Pizza Hut. We had the all-you-can-eat buffet, and I was looking idly at the bill (you know the way they leave it on the table part way through the meal) and noticed that they had only charged us for one buffet (i.e. £6.99 instead of £13.98). So I pointed this out the next time the waitress came over to see if we were OK, and she took the bill away and amended it.

So far, so simple. My son commended me on my honesty, and I said something about not being able to do anything else. This led, I cannot say how, to a long and involved discussion about comparative approaches to ethics, deontological versus teleological, which David said meant according different degrees of significance to principles or consequences. I argued that there were some things that were always right or wrong, regardless of consequences, and he proceeded to pick very large holes in my arguments by giving specific examples.

For example, I have always maintained that the dropping of nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was inexcusable and unforgiveable, and that nuclear weapons should never be used under any circumstances. He argued that if those bombs had not been dropped, many more thousands of people on both sides would have died in a war which would have lasted until 1950. In other words, the consequences of dropping the bombs were less bad overall than not dropping them. I still don't agree with him, but he has a point.

Why is our world so complicated? Why aren't ethical decisions simple and straightforward and obvious? Wouldn't it be a much better world if they were - if there was an obvious right and wrong decision to make? My inner child would love things to be that simple; if there were only one obvious source of evil (like Sauron in The Lord of the Rings) and all the "goodies" would be on the other side, and good would always triumph over evil. That would be so much more satisfying, and easy to pontificate about.

But our world is not simple (thank goodness). There are no black and white answers to any complex questions - there are always and only shades of grey. The problem with seeing things in black and white is that it is such a narrow point of view; in order to judge wisely (notice I don't say "to judge rightly") you have to look at all sides of a question and use what Karen Armstrong calls empathic compassion - putting yourself in the other person's shoes. Maybe if more of us tried to do this for more of the time, there would be less anger and hatred and misunderstanding and deprivation in the world.

The Charter for Compassion http://charterforcompassion.org/ is an important step in the right direction. And if supporting it means always seeing the other person's point of view and acting according to the Golden Rule, then maybe David was right and I was wrong, and consequences are more important than principles.

But then why are we taught that some things are right and some are wrong? I still could not have walked out of Pizza Hut without saying anything about the bill, because that would have been dishonest and that is wrong. (Even though, as he pointed out, Pizza Hut makes massive profits and wouldn't have missed my £6.99). But in another circumstance, would dishonesty be right? David gave me the example of Robin Hood, who robbed the rich to give to the poor, (which was technically a dishonest crime) and many of us today (including me) support the Robin Hood Tax. But isn't that condoning legalised theft? My brain is hurting already.

I think that the biggest wrong that we can do is not to think about these things, but to judge hastily and without thought, according to what someone else tells us. I think that in most cases there are no absolute right or wrong answers, but that our absolute duty is to consider each individual case carefully and empathically, on its merits. That is perhaps the best we can do.

Doing it for me

2011-04-01T10:35:00.002+01:00

I've always been a competitive person. My parents brought me up to have high standards, and to aim high, to try to be the best, and to work hard to achieve that. I'm not saying that is bad, but one result of this is that it has taken me many years to learn the lesson that people aren't judging you all the time by what you achieve.

The revelation has come from two sources:
1. I recently attended an Enneagram workshop run by Oxford Unitarian Josephine Seccombe, and she lent me a book about the different personality types. I am definitely a 3 "Achiever", who is motivated by success and by the praise of others. One key phrase in the personal development section brought me up standing: "Realise that love comes from being, not from doing and having."

"Realise that love comes from being, not from doing and having."

That is such an important message for all of us, but particularly for driven types like me. What? People like me for who I am, not just for what I do? A real Eureka moment.
And then I start to think that this has broader ramifications - I must also return the compliment to others, and love them for who they are, not for what they achieve. Doasyouwouldbedoneby, love as you would be loved.

2. Six weeks ago, I gave up smoking and started running again. Running for me is not about exercise, it's not about winning races, it's not about being the fastest or the best, it is for the pure love of being able to put one foot in front of the other and run a certain distance, knowing that the only person you are competing against is yourself. And often, I'm not even competing against myself, I just go out because it's a nice day, and I need to feel the sunlight on my skin and the wind in my hair, and experience the effort of running for itself. After a good run, I feel like God on the seventh day - just uplifted and good and the sense of achievement doesn't need to be validated by anyone else. It touches parts of my soul that nothing else does.

So I will continue to do my best, and to value success, and bask in the praise of others, but will try to remember that I am worthy for myself, and so is everyone else. "There is that of God in everyone"

Thanksgiving for Spring

2011-03-24T13:00:00.000Z

This day and the last have been beautiful. I am lucky to live in the countryside; the sun has been shining, the birds have been singing, the sky is blue and the blossom is all over the place. And I just feel the need to give thanks for this beauty, and for the feeling of hope and renewal that Spring always engenders in my heart.

Spring is my favourite season. After the short, grey days of winter, with their seemingly endless rain and gloomy clouds, it is so nice to see the odd bit of blue sky and sunshine! I often walk around our village, and notice buds starting to form on the trees and in the hedgerows, and the first brave Spring flowers pushing their heads up through the soil of the verges.

Spring has always been an important season for people, right back to earliest times. Indeed, in "the old days", before we could fly fruit and vegetables into our shops from around the world 365 days a year, the last few weeks of Winter were hard for people, who had to subsist on dried or otherwise preserved greens and fruit until the growing season began again. It is also the time of year when the days start to lengthen, and the evenings and mornings get lighter, and we naturally react to that - we are creatures who need natural light, even if we don't realise it, cocooned in our electric wombs.

I think it is important that we continue to experience the wonder of Spring - the sense of divine renewal, the small annual miracles of the first flowers and the first buds appearing. They have got to be a sign of hope, that Winter cannot last forever. There is the wonderful dichotomy between the revelation of the eternal round, and the revelation of that which is new. Every Spring we encounter something never before seen "which embodies hope and potential for the wholeness which is yet to be."

Spring is also the time when we feel renewed, and have new resources of energy. It is no accident that Spring cleaning has endured as a tradition through the centuries. Partly it is a necessity (more so in times past, when people almost hibernated during the cold winter months, and Spring was the time of the big clear out). But it is almost an instinct too - it is a time for taking stock of what we have, of discarding the broken and the useless, of repairing what is worn but useful, and of setting our faces forward for the new year. If we don't carry out a periodic Spring clean, our lives can become cluttered and stagnant, with no space for renewal and growth. You can guess by this that I'm not just talking about physical Spring cleaning (satisfying though that is) but also about mental and spiritual Spring cleaning. It is only too easy to plod along in the same old ways, carrying out the same old duties, not realising how flat and dull our lives have become. sometimes we need to have a good breath of fresh air blowing through our lives, revitalising us and setting us on a new path in good heart.

Quaker Invitation

2011-03-16T15:41:00.000Z

On Monday, I conducted a funeral for a Unitarian friend at the Quaker Meeting House in Northampton, because our Unitarian premises aren't big enough for rites of passage. When I booked the room, a couple of weeks ago, I found the beautiful invitation below on the home page of the Northamptonshire Quakers website:

"We hope you find here something that is right for you and what you need right now to help you on your spiritual journey and in your daily life
If you are wondering what God may be,
Looking for a purpose in life
Craving company, or seeking solitude,
Come to our Meeting for Worship!
We shall not ask you to speak or sing,
We shall not ask you what you believe,
We shall simply offer you our friendship,
And a chance to sit quietly and think,
And perhaps somebody will speak,
And perhaps somebody will read,
And perhaps somebody will pray,
And perhaps you will find here
That which you are seeking...
We are not saints,
We are not cranks,
We are not different ...

Except that we believe
That God's light is in us all,
Waiting to be discovered."

Apart from the bit about not being asked to sing, I would love to use this welcome on a Unitarian website. We too offer our friendship to those seeking a purpose in life, and do not require them to believe certain things in order to join us in worship. And I personally definitely believe that there is that of God in everyone "waiting to be discovered", although I know that some Unitarians would not agree with me!

The God I believe in

2011-03-10T11:09:00.001Z

I was talking to my friend Graham, who is training for the Baptist ministry, and the discussion turned to the nature of God. Graham knows I'm a Unitarian, and hence do not believe in a triune God, and he was curious to know what sort of God I believe in.

My first response is that I'm a Unitarian, so I believe in one God. Then I went on to explain that (with the Quakers) I believe that there is "that of God in everyone". Graham's response was interesting; he said "You're not a Unitarian, you believe in a multiplicity of Gods inside everyone." Well, no. I believe that the nature of God is both transcendent - the Ultimate, Other, Divine Presence "out there", but also the "still, small voice" inside each one of us; the divine spark that makes us who we are. Some people might designate that part of us as "the soul". I believe that our job as human beings is to listen to "that of God" within us, and to respond to its promptings to be the best people we can be. Perhaps this makes me a Multiplitarian - I don't know.

Unitarianism grew out of Christianity. It was only during the 19th century that we started to explore different aspects of how and why we believe what we believe. I'm talking here about the nature of authority. In traditional Christianity, the teachings of the Church, tradition and the word of the Bible are the accepted sources of authority. Unitarians believe otherwise. In the words of Alfred Hall, author of Beliefs of a Unitarian:

"But above all it must be known and understood that Unitarianism is not a system of creeds or beliefs. It is more than anything else an attitude of mind. It is a fresh way of looking at life and religion ... It lays stress on the reliability of the human mind to judge for itself ... Its method is that of appeal to reason, conscience and experience generally, and above all to elemental principles of truth and right which are implanted in the human heart at its noblest and embedded in the universe."

Unitarians today "do not presume to define God for others. We believe that everyone should be free to encounter the Great Mystery for themselves 'without mediator or veil'." [Cliff Reed] This respect for the individual's right to work out their own beliefs has resulted in a wide spectrum of perceptions of God within our denomination. Some are what I would call 'Liberal Christians', who would define God in broadly Christian terms as a "loving personal power - father-lie, as Jesus experienced" [Reed]; others would say that they "experience God as a unifying force and life-giving spirit; the source of all being, the universal process that comes to consciousness as love in its creatures." [Reed] Yet others, whom we might describe as religious humanists, would use the word 'God' to signify "the human ideal, the noblest visions and aspirations of humanity, against which we measure ourselves." [Reed] And then there are some whose chief perception of God is that of the 'still, small voice' within us, rather than any external power. It should also be realised that these beliefs are not mutually exclusive. Most of us would say that belief in a combination of them is where we would find God. And finally, some of us reject the idea of any sort of divinity, and would describe themselves as 'atheists', preferring rather to place their faith in their fellow human beings.

It is also a vital tenet of Unitarian belief that all are free to work out their own positions, in the light of their own ongoing experience. This openness to new thoughts and ideas is a key concept in Unitarianism: indeed it is what has kept us green and growing down the centuries. Our movement has been underpinned by a process of continuous and continuing revelation. At different times, and in different countries, different ideas have been considered to be most important. The important thing is that we respect and accept each other's beliefs, so long as they do not harm anyone else.

Personally speaking, I find inspiration and truth from many sources - I happen to believe in a personal God, who is both immanent and transcendent, but also believe that the teachings of other faiths hold great truths for humankind. I count myself lucky in belonging to a religious tradition in which I can hold both these strands of belief together, and forge from them my own truth, and worship God - Father and Mother, Spirit of Life and Love - in my own way.

Thank God for Gok!

2011-03-03T10:39:00.000Z

In these enlightened times, it is no longer acceptable to be racist, or sexist, or to discriminate against another person on account of their age or disability. This is not to say that prejudice about these things has died out, but it is not acceptable.

But there is one last bastion of prejudice which is alive and well - it seems to be quite acceptable to be sizist, or fattist, in other words, to judge someone by how much (or little) they weigh. It is commonly recognised that first impressions are important, and that, rightly or wrongly, most people do judge others by appearances. And it is endemic in our celebrity-obsessed society.

I've watched three programmes this week, all of which give different angles on this issue. The first was America's Next Top Model, a reality show in which a group of girls in their late teens or early twenties learn the skills of modelling (and there is a lot more to it than meets the eye) and are eliminated one by one, until the winner is awarded the title of America's Next Top Model. The current series is Cycle 15. The show has spawned many franchised imitations, the world over. Most of the girls are very slim, if not downright thin, and there have been incidents of girls passing out because they are not looking after themselves properly (i.e. eating and drinking enough to keep body and soul together).

To be fair to Tyra Banks, the originator and chief judge of the series, she is very concerned to teach the girls about the need to look after themselves. Indeed, at the beginning of the current series, one girl was sent home for being too thin, as the judges (quite rightly) thought that this didn't send the right message about healthy eating to the show's legion fans, many of whom are young girls themselves.

At the other end of the scale was Biggest Loser USA, another reality show in which a number of morbidly-obese contestants are taken out of their everyday lives, and taught to eat healthily and subjected to a ferocious exercise regime under the supervision of two excellent, but very demanding coaches. The amount some of these people weigh at the beginning of the series is phenomenal (one guy weighed over 500 pounds or 35 stones) and their rate of weight loss is similarly phenomenal - the same man has currently lost 129 pounds in nine weeks! But it's all done under medical supervision, and the contestants' lives are transformed by the process.

These are just two of the many reality shows on TV which are centred around physical appearance, the desirability of fitting in to some "ideal". Others include shows like 10 Years Younger, in which a woman (it is usually a woman) has her appearance transformed by a combination of cosmetic surgery, dentistry, makeover (hair and make-up) and dress. At the beginning of the show, 100 passers-by are asked her age, and the average is taken, and then again at the end, after the transformation.

We seem to be obsessed by physical appearance. It is not just TV shows, it is also endemic in magazines, worst of which are the "celebrity" ones such as OK, Closer and Hello, which seem to exist to show us endless pictures of A-Z list celebrities either at their air-brushed best (or more interestingly still to many readers) at their worst. The appetite for such things appears to be bottomless.

As a Unitarian, I firmly believe that there is "that of God in everyone", a divine spark that makes each person unique and worthy of respect as a human being, regardless of age, sex or personal appearance.

Which is why I thank God for crusaders such as Trinny and Susannah, hosts of What Not To Wear, and Gok Wan, host of How To Look Good Naked (the third programme I watched this week), who have quite a different message about physical appearance. While granting that physical appearance (looking your best) is important, the whole rationale behind What Not To Wear was to enable women (and men) to learn about their body shapes, and about what colours and clothes styles suit them best, to enable them to "make the best" of what they've got, and to be happy with themselves. Gok Wan has gone even further down this road, preaching a message that all women are beautiful, no matter what their shape, size or complexion.

It is a vitally important message, particularly for younger girls. It has taken me many years to be content with my weight - I started to obsess about it in my teens, and it was only through watching Trinny & Susannah, and reading their books, that I have learned how to dress appropriately for my body shape, to make the best of my assets, and to be content.

So Thank God for Trinny & Susannah, and for Gok, and for all people who can help insecure women who believe all the media hype about physical perfection, to be happy with the bodies they've got and concentrate on more important things.

"Advices and Queries"

2011-03-02T22:59:00.002Z

This little red booklet is the reason why I am a "Quakerly-inclined" Unitarian. Each of its forty-two paragraphs is a challenge, a comfort or a reminder of some fundamental religious or spiritual truth. I first came across it about 15 years ago, and was blown away by it - it really speaks to my condition (to use a Quakerly phrase).

Reading it has made me realise that Unitarians and Quakers have an awful lot in common, both theologically and spiritually. Take the introduction: "Within the community there is a diversity of gifts. We are all therefore asked to consider how far the advices and queries affect us personally and where our own service lies. There will also be diversity of experience, of belief and of language. Friends maintain that expressions of faith must be related to personal experience. Some find traditional Christian language full of meaning, some do not. Our understanding of our own religious tradition may sometimes be enhanced by insights of other faiths."

You could build an entire service around each paragraph ... over the years, I probably will.

"Still I am one"

2011-03-02T19:05:00.001Z

The title of my blog is taken from a quotation by Edward Everett Hale, a 19th century Unitarian minister and writer. The full quote reads as follows:

"I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something I can do."

For me, this sums up where I'm coming from as a Unitarian. All of us are little individuals, but each one of us can do "the something we can do". In my case, this involves my job, my training and my involvement with sundry Unitarian societies. I feel so blessed to be able to serve such worthy things.