10th of October St PaulinusPaulinus (AD 563-644) came from Italy to England in about AD 601 at the bidding of Pope Gregory the Great in Rome to assist the missionary work of St Augustine to convert the Anglo Saxons and some pagan groups to Christianity. He and other fellow monks were by all accounts very successful in doing so, especially in the north of England. He was also the first Christian missionary appointed to what was then the kingdom of Northumbria. He was described as a “tall man with a slight stoop, who had black hair, a thin face and a narrow aquiline nose, his presence being venerable and awe-inspiring”. Well, today, we are invited to remember the ministry of St Paulinus who later became the first Archbishop of York. When I read about St Paulinus I tend to think of him not just as a devout and hard-working Christian missionary who did his best to point people to God but also as a person who valued and adopted story-telling as a mission tool. For example, at one famous meeting, probably in Yorkshire, with high ranking ‘thegns’ (lords who held land from the then king in return for military service in time of war), Paulinus or one of his followers, who also valued story-telling, explained the advantages of embracing Christianity by saying: “This is how the present life of man on Earth appears to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us. You are sitting feasting with your fellow thegns in winter time. The fire is burning on the hearth in the middle of the hall and all is warm, while outside the wintry storms of rain and snow are raging – and a sparrow flies swiftly through the hall. It enters in at one door and quickly flies out through the other. For a few moments it is inside, the storm and wintry tempest cannot touch it, but after the briefest moment of calm, it flits from your sight, out of the wintry storm and into it again. So this life of man appears but for a moment. What follows or, indeed, what went before, we know not at all”. The thegns, then having interpreted the story and having been offered the hope of life after death, realising that their own religion wasn’t working, were won over by Paulinus and his followers. The King’s high priest then rode out and ordered their ‘pagan’ temple to be demolished. Edwin, the King, was then himself baptised at York on Easter Day AD 627 along with his two sons. In our modern world we may neglect or fail to fully appreciate the importance and power of story-telling and how it can work help transform people’s lives. I remember from my own childhood how my parents, family and friends used to gather round a blazing fire at home with a few drinks and nibbles and share stories about life in general and many of those stories, even humorous ones, provided much food for thought. Jesus himself used story-telling as a mission tool when he went out to towns and villages meeting with people. When people approached him and asked for help, he said, ‘How can I help you?’ They told him their stories and problems and difficulties. Jesus listened and then he told them a story (a parable) designed to help people reflect in personal ways about their own life situation. Then, before taking his leave, Jesus pointed them to God. I am sure Paulinus himself was well aware of the power of using parables as a mission and evangelising tool and he used that wisely and appropriately to good effect. Perhaps, when things are more settled, our churches and community groups should think about offering story-telling evenings for the benefit of all and for the life of the Church. I am sure many of us of riper years have many stories to tell that can help and direct people in good ways and to God.‘Almighty and everlasting God, we thank you for your servant Paulinus, whom you called to preach the Gospel to the people of northern England. Raise up in this and every land evangelists and heralds of your kingdom, that your Church may proclaim the unsearchable riches of our Saviour Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever’.Fr Graham
Thoughts for Today From the real world, sublime and challenging Kralendijk, Bonaire – think salt-flats, wild donkeys, slave-huts and cactus juice… How ironic that on the day I settle down to write about the small island of Bonaire it has been declared as one of the places travellers arriving from there to the UK will have to isolate for two weeks. We arrived at Kralendijk, Bonaire – a ‘desert island‘ with a population of 20,000 on Leap Year Day, Saturday, 29th February. Our guide around the island was Simone from Germany - a resident for over 22 years. The words from Psalm 107: verse 24, ‘See the works of the Lord’ – (his wonderful works in the deep) greeted us on our arrival at the marina.Because of its Dutch heritage Kralendijk is known as ‘Little Amsterdam’. It entertains the hurricane season from July to September and suffered drought from 2013-2016. In the large mini-bus transport we were soon in the land of Aloe Vera spikes and Yatsu Cacti over 200 years old. Indigenous Indians have lived on Bonaire since 1500 BC. We drove to a diving jetty and were greeted by friendly lizards. Young divers were displaying their bravery off the nearby cliff.Travelling on to the first part of the island’s salt flats we viewed the shy flamingoes in the distance. Apparently, the darker pink indicates the older birds. They live for up to twenty-five years and have no predators on the island. However, algae have been identified as being harmful to them, and booms have been installed to protect the flats from the pervasive weed by Sorobon Bay.The Cadushy Distillery introduced us to a Cactus Liqueur - a thimble full again you understand! No, it wasn’t pleasant but was advertised as ‘The Spirit of Bonaire’. We negotiated the wild goats and donkeys on the way to the Salt Mountains and glittering salt flats. There are great mountains of salt harvested by the ‘Salt Farm’ of the Cargill Company highlighting the fact with a large conveyor loading a bulk ship by the wharf. The mountains of salt look awesome and natural. The contrast with the industrial process is stark.Jane and I were not prepared for what came next…the pure white slave houses on the coast – small windowless ‘houses’ just 1.5 metres high. Originally built in 1850 by the West India Company to house two slaves each, but were in fact inhabited by six. Shock set in when we saw the actual size of the interiors. The slaves slept there during the week, returning to their families in Rincon (a distance of seven miles) only for short breaks. Their work involved cutting the salt, and carrying it on their heads and in barrows to small boats before transfer to the Company ships. The salt today is mainly for industrial use. Slavery, which had been in operation under the Dutch, British, French and Portugese jurisdictions from the 17th century was abolished on Bonaire in 1863. The West Indian Company soon left the island after extracting its natural harvest of sun-dried sea salt for great profit.We were very subdued after that experience, so physical, so stark. It was in sharp contrast to our next stop, the Sorobon Beach resort. The ‘Wellness and Windsurf Resort’ was secluded and set on a ‘holiday brochure’ lagoon of the Caribbean blue sea with the mangroves nearby. The waves were a mile away.We lunched and had the use of two beach beds before a paddle into the shallow seawater of the lagoon. Up to my knees in water I met with a female GP and her husband from Rotterdam via Morocco. As we swapped travel stories we were amazed to see a young Nurse Shark (Gingly Mostama Cirratum) come within six feet of us, fortunately socially distancing! They are not known for attacking human beings and feed upon seabed shell fish. We later learned that young nurse sharks very rarely stray from the mangroves to the main lagoon. The surf team informed us we were very fortunate to see one. The experience certainly caused a ‘gingly-tum’! Scary, awesome and unexpected, I was reassured to be with a GP at the time….After refreshments it was time to make our way back to the ship. We passed the Hotel van emblazoned with the sign ‘Powered by the Sun – Twice the Fun’. The wind farm on the horizon called the ‘Windsock’, contributes to the island’s one third electric self sufficiency.The sail away followed to Bridgetown, Barbados. Next, there was a sea day. Over two hundred came to the two morning services. Part of the extended sail-away was a late night deck concert with our resident ‘Drifter’, Steve V King and the female vocalist Jo Ashcroft who serenaded us on a barmy evening.More works of the Lord lay ahead in the wonderful works of the deep…Blessings,Edward and Jane
Marking the passing of the year. (Martin Mellor)As I write this, I have just returned from a trip to Hunstanton. My father and I have not been away on holiday at all this year, for obvious reasons, and I had a yearning to see the sea. As I drove back this thought started to formulate itself in my mind.In our lives we all have significant days that trigger memories or are part of the yearly cycle marking the passing of the year. Birthdays, Anniversaries and the like, but what about those less obvious but still nonetheless important, Holidays, Harvest, Bonfire Night, Remembrance Sunday, and All Souls, Christmas Fair, Carols round the Tree. I am sure you will have many others.When I started singing in the choir, the first major service we sang for was Harvest. We used to sing a full Choral Evensong on Friday evening at Burbage, and there would be a guest preacher. The church was decorated, and I can still remember the smell of autumn flowers and apples gently warming on the heating pipes. On Sunday morning all the Sunday School and others bought baskets of produce which were spread out around the High Altar, then in the evening we sang Evensong again, but not fully choral. The following weekend a bus (or as Rev Grimwood would announce, a Motor Coach) would leave Burbage to go to Aston Flamville on the Friday evening, where we would sing a full Choral Evensong again. In those days a choirboy was responsible for pumping the bellows for the organ, I did that a number of times. On the Sunday afternoon, the choirs boys alone, would get on our bikes, weather permitting, and cycle to Aston for a service of Evensong at 3.00pm. From those days on, Harvest Festival has always been important in my life. As an aside, I had my first pint of pedigree at the age of 17 after a Friday Evensong at Aston, nearly 40 years ago! Another such time was Bonfire night. All of Sapcote Road knew we held a Bonfire on the nearest Saturday to 5th November, and in the run up we would get people offering rubbish, old furniture, hedge trimmings and wood for the fire. Four families were involved on the night, all friends from school. We knew all the parents as Aunty or Uncle so and so, even though of course they weren’t proper Aunts or Uncles. Each family was responsible for one particular thing. Aunty Muriel Bonfire Toffee, Uncle Edwin Hot Dogs, Aunty Megan Jacket potatoes. Mum provided warm drinks and soup.Dad and Uncle Alan would let the fireworks off. We would have proper Aunts and Uncles and cousins would be invited to come along too. All in all a great family occasion. After the fireworks were finished we would all stand round the fire and reminisce and talk about all sorts of things. As we left we would all say “See you at Christmas” the next family gathering. On most occasions when we got home the Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance would be on the Television. I could go on with so many other stories of past days. This year, it has dawned on me, that, as a result of the situation in which we find ourselves, I am not going to be able to mark and remember these significant days in the same way.I must say, the thought of this has made me feel quite at a loss and a bit depressed. So, what am I going to do about it? Well, get on with life, of course, and create other memories for one thing, after all we are now in the new normal. Changes in life at the moment are quite momentous, we are not able to do things as we used to. Change in one form or another is always happening to us, it is how to deal with it that becomes the issue. Are we Ostriches who stick our heads in the sand and hope they will go away? Do we confront them and fight against them, change what’s change? I prefer to go along with them, no matter what, as life nearly always seems much better in the end.Assist us mercifully, O Lord, in these our supplications and prayers, and dispose the way of thy servants towards the attaining of everlasting salvation; that, among all the changes and chances of this mortal life, they may ever be defended by thy most gracious and ready help; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.In these times, let us all accept change and create new memories. Hopefully one day our descendants will look back and wonder what it was their ancestors did during lockdown.
