Thursday 3 April 2014

Three weeks

Three great weeks just beginning at Malmesbury Abbey. If you’re reading this on your i-Pad in a holiday cottage or on a Barbados beach, two things: one, we’re sorry that you’re missing so much; two, can I come next year?

We begin this Sunday by playing with the furniture. The Abbey will be stripped bare after the Sunday 4pm service, then on Monday morning we have soft play for parents and toddlers, after which Sandra Chin and her team move in to construct the Labyrinth and the art exhibition arrives. A labyrinth is a maze-like structure, but unlike a maze it has only one path that loops and turns backwards and forwards to the centre and then back out. The most famous remaining intact labyrinth is that found on the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France, built around 1200 AD. Pilgrims used to walk it as a symbolic journey to Jerusalem, with a view to finding Christ at the centre; a spiritual pilgrimage for those who could not afford to travel to Jerusalem. The labyrinth has become increasingly popular over the past 20 years and it can be used as a tool to inspire prayer, to illuminate the  scriptures and to meet with God. The Abbey Labyrinth, for adults and children, will tell the story of Jesus’ journey to the cross and at the same time it invites us to discover more about ourselves and about God. Don’t miss the late-night labyrinth next Wednesday.

From April 10th to April 20th we not only have inspirational worship on Palm Sunday, Good Friday and Easter Day, but also a small festival of the creative and performing arts. Please pore over the brochure, come to absolutely everything, and invite your neighbours and friends. We particularly need everybody in the Abbey to liberate themselves from their sofa and come to Riding Lights on Maundy Thursday; this is part of us supporting mission and discipleship through the professional performing arts.

The Sunday after Easter (April 27th) is Vision Sunday at Malmesbury Abbey. In the morning we all come together to a combined 11am Holy Communion. This is  risky as somebody might be in your normal chair. As part of that service I’ll be interviewing various Abbey leaders about their vision for the year ahead; there will be activities for Junior Church during this. And after a picnic lunch together (please bring one!), at our Annual meeting at 1.30pm we take an hour to pray and get down to business and elect churchwardens and church council members for the year ahead. If you have a diary, please put all this in. Thanks.

Fix us

On Palm Sunday the guest vicar on BBC Wiltshire’s Sunday morning programme will be yours truly. It’s only taken me 10 years to get invited—clearly we’ve gone quietly under the radar recently here at the Abbey. Anyway, as we’ll be busy with an outdoor Holy Communion here on Palm Sunday morning, we recorded my short segments last week. As well as the general conversation flagging up our Easter Eve service in partnership with BBC Wiltshire (don’t forget to get your ticket), I also had to provide a ‘thought for the day’ and select a piece of music. The ‘thought for the day’ was easy; I have way too many thoughts every day before breakfast and simply needed to extract an intelligible one, if available. But selecting one favourite piece of music — don’t they realise how difficult that is for a musician?

My operatic alter ego kicked in, and, although I didn’t for one moment think they’d play one of my old CDs, I thought they might play a track from an old colleague and I could do a bit of former glory basking. ‘No opera’ they said.

That just left me 6 or 7 centuries of classical music to choose from. The Abbey choir know that I have my favourites, and my not favourites, but, just as I was  about to select some JS Bach or Olivier Messaien, and lose Radio Wiltshire most of its audience, I heard the words ‘nothing classical, we want contemporary pop please.’ OK. Now the most joy I’ve had with contemporary pop recently, by a long way, was a live performance of Barry Manilow’s Copacabana. But for some reason I couldn’t get the Palm Sunday imagery and ‘the hottest spot north of Havana’ to work together in my brain; it was all going dancing donkeys. So I went for Coldplay’s Fix You.

I am sure Coldplay had absolutely no intention of this, but I always hear a lot of Holy Week in Fix You. It’s a redemptive song. The cry ‘Hosanna’, save us, is a heartfelt cry from broken humanity, and God’s captive people, to be ‘fixed.’  Coldplay’s lyrics ‘tears come streaming down your face when you lose something you cannot replace’ always suggest to me the devastation of Mary Magdalene at the loss of Christ, ‘Mary stood outside the tomb crying…’ (John 20:10) And the guitars, just over 2 minutes in, are for me the sunrise on Resurrection morning—Christ appearing to Mary and simply calling out her name. The Messiah is come, He knows us by name, and God’s  great plan for humanity is unveiled—He will fix us.

Baptism

The great turning point in my life spiritually was somebody else’s baptism. Three years at a left-wing, modern university and a childhood in the Church of England had convinced me entirely of the non-existence of God. So when Marilyn and I had 8lbs of screaming called Sally Anne Archer suddenly placed in our lives there was absolutely no way the kid was being Christened; in fact you wouldn’t get me into church again, unless you paid me. (And, as I worked as a singer, I was frequently paid to sing in church.)

If God had a plan at this point, and my theological understanding now causes me to believe that He did, it was this: as a general rule husbands do what their wives tell them. So not long after declaring that no child of mine was going to be baptised I found myself sitting in a baptism class at my local church surrounded by horrendous smiling people, in atrocious sweaters, serving instant coffee. In a very ordinary, naffly-carpeted room, a pretty unimpressive presentation of the Christian faith was inflicted on all those gathered and then after a final prayer the victims were released back into the wild. Marilyn turned to me at the end and asked me this question: ‘what did you make of that?’ And her atheist husband looked her in the eye and said: ‘well it all seems true to me.’ Mmmm.

In John 3 Jesus says to Nicodemus you don’t see wind. It comes from somewhere, breezes through you, and blows on. And He says so it is with the Spirit of God. Sometimes the Spirit breezes through and leaves holy chaos in the life of an individual—it’s as if they’ve jumped back in the womb and been born again. Suddenly I believed in the virgin birth, the death of Christ on the cross for the salvation of humanity, the resurrection and the ascension. Suddenly I stopped swearing and blaspheming and gave up my life of crime. (Actually, I had no life of crime, but the story is so much more dramatic that way.) And nine years later I was ordained in the Church of England. That was some breeze.

Today is a really good day, people are being baptised at the Abbey. So a warning to you all—God is in the room.