Liverpool Anglican Cathedral

I spent Saturday at the Liverpool Anglican Cathedral for my second quiet day on the run, last week being at Pennant Malangell.

Our day was split up into times of teaching and times of quite. Two of the quite times where meditative walks. The third walk was on my way from the Cathedral into Liverpool City Centre.

The first walk was a guided meditation round the Cathedral itself looking at some of the features and thinking how they may relate to God. There were hundreds of tourist in every nook and cranny of that large building but what struck me we the way in which all visitors are forbidden to get neat to the high altar. Now I know this is normal for most churches that are open to the public and I understand the reason why, but at that moment the image seemed to be a metaphor  for much more – it was if we were saying to people “this is as far as you are coming to God and no further.”

The day was warm and sunny and yet in the Cathedral it was cool and dark. As I looked at the towering thick walls I couldn’t help but think that what we had created was a mausoleum for God – a place where he could dwell safe from the evils of the outside, being protected by the thick, fortress-like walls.

My second walk  could not have been a bigger contrast. This time I walked in St. James’ Garden, a one time burial ground for the rich and important of Liverpool. Here the sun shone, the birds sang and the wild-flowers bloomed. People were walking about or sitting enjoying the day and suddenly I realised that this place of death was in fact a place of life. It seemed here God was near in a way that he had been missing from the inside.

The final walk was into town and on into the main shopping area. Recession of not people were scurrying here and there with shopping bags or sitting outside the multitude of bars that now grace our town. In the main pedestrian walk a solitary man stud with his placard inviting people to repent. In his hand was a bunch of tracts which nobody took.  Where as God in this situation?

The truth is God was there in all of my walks, what changed was my perception of his presence.  The question is: how how do we get others to perceive the presence of God in whatever path he may choose them to walk. 

Liverpool Cathedral Labyrinth

Liverpool Cathedral is inviting people to follow a journey around a labyrinth to reflect on the past year and to look towards the future.

The attraction is a modern version of the 12th century ritual featured in medieval cathedrals. Unlike a maze a labyrinth has only one path leading to a central point. The path is followed slowly whilst contemplating life, the planet and God.

The free attraction will be open from 28 December to 2 January 2010.

Canon Richard White, the Cathedral’s Canon for mission and evangelism said, “Our contemporary labyrinth is designed for all ages and reshapes the 12th century ritual for the 21st century with a mixture of music, art, media and activities or rituals along the path. “These will form a journey that looks back on 2009, looks forward to 2010 and helps us to encounter God in the present moment.”

For more information on The Labyrinth visit the Liverpool Cathedral website.

It  was written by Saint John of the Cross, a Carmelite priest in the 16th century, describing his mystical development.

The modern extract below is just the first part of this poem. It narrates the journey of the soul from her bodily home to her union with God. It happens during the night, which represents the hardships and difficulties she meets in detachment from the world and reaching the light of the union with the Creator.

The poem was adapted by Loreena McKennet on her album The Mask and the Mirror and it is that version whose words are below.

Upon a darkened night
the flame of love was burning in my breast
And by a lantern bright
I fled my house while all in quiet rest

Shrouded by the night
And by the secret stair I quickly fled
The veil concealed my eyes
while all within lay quiet as the dead

Oh night thou was my guide
of night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
to the beloved one
transforming each of them into the other

Upon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart

That fire t’was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come.

Within my pounding heart
which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
beneath the cedars all my love I gave

From o’er the fortress walls
the wind would his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
caressed my every sense it would allow

I lost myself to him
and laid my face upon my lover’s breast
And care and grief grew dim
as in the morning’s mist became the light
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair

Picture of St Clare

Clare’s father was a count, her mother the countess Blessed Orsolana. Her father died when the girl was very young. After hearing Saint Francis of Assisi preach in the streets, Clare confided to him her desire to live for God, and the two became close friends. On Palm Sunday in 1212, her bishop presented Clare with a palm, which she apparently took as a sign. With her cousin Pacifica, Clare ran away from her mother’s palace during the night to enter religious life. She eventually took the veil from Saint Francis at the Church of Our Lady of the Angels in Assisi, Italy.

Clare founded the Order of Poor Ladies (Poor Clares) at San Damiano, and led it for 40 years. Everywhere the Franciscans established themselves throughout Europe, there also went the Poor Clares, depending solely on alms, forced to have complete faith on God to provide through people; this lack of land-based revenues was a new idea at the time. Clare’s mother and sisters later joined the order, and there are still thousands of members living lives of silence and prayer.

What many of the Catholic commentaries on Clare forget to mention is that she had to fight to allow her Order to live in the poverty she and her sisters so desired. It simply was not the done thing to allow women to live by faith alone, they had to be supported in some way by the (male) dominated Church. This was the biggest battle Clare had to face, but one she finally won when the permission she so desired was granted whilst she was on he death bed.

I admire Clare, she was a woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to give herself wholeheartedly to bring it about. She fought to enter the monastic way of life and then she fought  to make sure that way of life of her sisters followed the Franciscan ideal of poverty.

Some excellent pictures of St Damiamo, Clare’s Monestary

The truth is I’m not OK. A whole series of problems have coincided with one of my ‘down’ mood swings and I know from experience that I am on the brink of depression. My friend  has been there too and so I was able to speak my mind. “I thought so”, she answered, “Takes one to know one.” 

Over the years I have learned to cope when I am like this but obviously there are the tell-tale signs: usually I become argumentative and self opinionated – well more than usual!  Partly because of that, and partly because my creativity seems to have deserted me  I have kept away from writing on this blog.

Usually, when I am feeling like this I turn to music. and there is one piece I keep playing time and time again. I have not been able to a copy of the version I have on my iPlayer but it is the words that are important and so I thought the least I could do is share. So here they are along with a video of the melody

“Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer”
Music by Keith Getty; Words by Margaret Becker
Copyright © 2002 Thankyou Music

Jesus draw me ever nearer
As I labour through the storm.
You have called me to this passage,
and I’ll follow, though I’m worn.

May this journey bring a blessing,
May I rise on wings of faith;
And at the end of my heart’s testing,
With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus guide me through the tempest;
Keep my spirit staid and sure.
When the midnight meets the morning,
Let me love You even more.

Let the treasures of the trial                                 
Form within me as I go –
And at the end of this long passage,
Let me leave them at Your throne.

Last night I attended a social event at the Church, a Chocolate Bingo. It consisted of Bingo (of course), burgers and whatever drinks I had chosen to take along. Now it seems that nothing ’spiritual’ could come out of such a meeting, although I agree with the Quakers when they say: All of life is a sacrement.

Gill had come along with me and we were joined at our table by a friend and his wife, both Methodist Ministers and the talk got round to some pilgrimages the husband has made to  Compostela. The upshot of our conversation was that he was going again this year and would I like to come.

Now this is one journey I have always wanted to make. I’ve been to quite a lot of Pilgrimage sites but so far this one has eluded me: obviously I jumped at the chance to make the trip in order to take some time walking through Spain.

Perhaps I should not have been so suprised. God is very good at speaking to us when we least expect it. Only last Sunday I talked  of Zaccheaus who climbed the tree to see Jesus. Now Zaccheaus never thought for one moment Jessu would speak to him, and yet he did inviting himself around to Zac’s house for a meal. Even my own Christian journey started when God spoke to me when he was as far from my thoughts as could be.

Does Jesus like Chocolate? Could make a good Synod debate.