DAILY REFLECTION - 2025
Wednesday 16th April
so much of Holy Week is a call to meditate on loss and grief. Jan Richardson does this well in the following piece, not shying away from the raw nature of such meditation, but still positioning it within the context of blessing:
Jan Richardson
Blessing That Becomes Empty As it Goes
This blessing
keeps nothing
for itself.
You can find it
by following the path
of what it has let go,
of what it has learned
it can live without.
Say this blessing out loud
a few times
and you will hear
the hollow places
within it,
how it echoes
in a way
that gives your voice
back to you
as if you had never
heard it before.
Yet this blessing
would not be mistaken
for any other,
as if,
in its emptying,
it had lost
what makes it
most itself.
It simply desires
to have room enough
to welcome
what comes.
Today,
it’s you.
So come and sit
in this place
made holy
by its hollows.
You think you have
too much to do,
too little time,
too great a weight
of responsibility
that none but you
can carry.
I tell you,
lay it down.
Just for a moment,
if that’s what you
can manage at first.
Five minutes.
Lift up your voice—
in laughter,
in weeping,
it does not matter—
and let it ring against
these spacious walls.
Do this
until you can hear
the spaces within
your own breathing.
Do this
until you can feel
the hollow in your heart
where something
is letting go,
where something
is making way.
Jan Richardson is an artist, writer, and ordained minister in the United Methodist Church. She serves as director of The Wellspring Studio, LLC,
Revd Louise Grace
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Tuesday 15th April
another stirring reflection and poem from Jan Richardson, aimed to help us navigate through the themes of suffering and conflict that mark Holy Week:
In the midst of suffering, it can be tempting to turn away from God. We may blame God for our pain. We may turn inward upon ourselves when the most important thing we can do is turn toward those who can help us, including the One who does not will our suffering but who, as the Servant sings, stands with us when others are arrayed against us.
I am struck by how, even as the Servant sets his face “like flint” (verse 7) and is resolute in his convictions, he begins each day—”morning by morning”—by listening to the God who “wakens my ear to listen” and who has “opened my ear.” I am intrigued by the Servant’s combination of willingness and strength, by his desire to turn his ear toward God in patient listening even as he stands his ground.
The poet e. e. cummings closes his poem “i thank You God for most this amazing day” with these words:
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
In these Lenten days, how do we listen in this way? How do we turn toward the God who, morning by morning, desires to open our ears, our eyes, ourselves, that we may be fully awake in this world, and offer a word that will sustain those who are weary?
Blessing to Open the Ear
That as we wake
we will listen.
That as we rise
we will listen.
That before our first words
of the day
we will listen.
That when we meet
we will listen.
That at noontime
we will listen.
That at dusk
we will listen.
That at the gathering
of night
we will listen.
That entering sleep
we will listen still.
—Jan Richardson
Revd Louise Grace
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Monday 14th April
The poet and artist Jan Richardson has been a good companion throughout Lent. Here are her reflections following a meditation whereby she held a cross in the palm of her hand. I felt this has echoes from Palm Sunday yesterday, literally a play on the word palm. It is a good focus for Monday of Holy Week.
She had been meditating on the Gospel passage about the Canaanite woman...
Pondering this passage as the story of the Canaanite woman lingers with me, I find myself wondering: How do we discern what we should be fierce about? How do we choose what we will hold on to, and what we need to release?
Blessing in the Shape of a Cross
Press this blessing
into your palms—
right, left—
and you will see
how it leaves its mark,
how it imprints itself
into your skin,
how the lines of it
meet
and cross
as if signaling you
to the treasure
that has been in
your grasp
all along.
Except that these riches
you will count
not by what you hold
but by what you release,
by what you lose,
by what falls from
your open hands.
—Jan Richardson
Revd Louise Grace
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Thursday and Friday 10th and 11th April
I do apologise for combining two days in one; yesterday was very busy indeed.
In the morning I went to the traditionalist church Chrism Eucharist at the cathedral (who have an alternative bishop overseeing them). The Chrism Eucharist is a strong invitation to all clergy every year as we renew our ordination vows within the service. I cannot attend next Thursday, when the regular one is held, and so went to the traditionalist one instead. It was full of colour, drama, scents and ritual.
Our diocesan bishop spoke movingly and simply during the welcome; he spoke about the importance of vows and how the vows keep us rather than we keep the vows. It was a great statement that vows are a point of unity because ultimately the vows are intended to let in the grace of God, rather than be a checklist that we have to strive to achieve. When we are relying on God's strength, grace and spirit, keeping vows are not something we take credit for, rather are a sign of being the Body of Christ, all with the different parts, each contributing something unique to the whole.
In the afternoon I led the memorial service for Revd John Davies, dearly loved PTO priest who died well into his nineties. Even in February, weeks before he died, he was trying to figure out ways to communicate about the love of God to the people around him in ways that would engage. He was faithful to his vows until the very end, and his open mind, heart and spirit shone brightly with God's love for us all. May he rest in peace and rise in glory.
Revd Louise Grace
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Wednesday 9th April
Yesterday I shared the wisdom of the Benedictine monk who recommended a way of praying during the Alpha course sessioin on prayer.
Also recommended was the super simple triad: Thank you, Sorry, Please
For prayer to begin with the great thanks giving echoes the words of another great monk, Thomas Merton, who said - if you say just one prayer in your lifetime, make it 'thank you'. Beginning with gratitude is wise indeed.
Sorry is a bedrock of our faith. Confession isn't about destroying self esteem, but rather to enable healthy, safe, boundaried relationship, whether with one another, or the environment we are in.
Please refers to our instinct to intercede for others. It is good that we have gone through the other two movements before we reach this very common, and understandably so, form of prayer.
Thank you, Sorry, Please.
Simple, but profound.
Revd Louise Grace
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