Lent Reflections Week 7: Rejoice

Legend has it that Mary Magdalene, a woman of means, influence, and courage, procured an invitation to dine at the court of the Emperor Tiberius Caesar in Rome soon after the crucifixion of Jesus. She went to Rome to protest Pilate’s miscarriage of justice, and to announce the resurrection, bringing with her an egg as a symbol of new life, with the words, “Christ is Risen!” The emperor scoffed at her, saying, “Christ rose from the dead as surely as that egg in your hand will turn red!” The egg immediately turned blood red.

As a teenager I attended an evangelical church with my friend for a while. The people I found there were welcoming and sincere, and very secure in their faith. As a young person beset with doubts, to be honest I envied them their certainty. My heart desperately wanted to ‘accept Jesus into my heart as my saviour’ as they used to say. However, my head would not agree, no matter how hard I tried. Original sin, the virgin birth, the atonement, the resurrection – they made no rational sense to me.

When I left home to study Theology and Religious Studies at the University of Leeds I retained a sense of guilt about being unable to accept the mainstream Christian worldview. So it came as a relief to discover, in my biblical criticism classes, that bible stories of Jesus’ death and resurrection were written down so long after the events that they were unverifiable by Jesus’ contemporaries.

The study of early Christian texts in the context of the times in which they were written has led biblical scholars to conclude that there were various groups among the early followers of Jesus who interpreted his life and teachings in different ways and produced a variety of literature. Their thinking was influenced by the ideas of the time, for example Jewish apocalyptic thought, pagan myths of dying and rising gods, and mystery cults, whose initiates would die to their old selves and be reborn. The stories about Jesus are more likely to reflect the needs of the communities who shared them, rather than be an accurate historical portrait. By the time some of these stories were collected into the writings that we now know as the New Testament, the view of Jesus as Son of God and Saviour had prevailed.

Biblical scholar Burton Mack believes the resurrection stories originated in the congregations established by St Paul. For the first followers of Jesus, the importance of him as the founder of their movement was directly related to the significance they attached to his teachings. What mattered most was what these teachings called for in terms of ideas, attitudes and behaviour, but as the Jesus movement spread, groups in different locations and circumstances began to think about the kind of life Jesus must have lived. Some began to think of him in the role of a sage, others as a prophet, or an exorcist come to rid the world of evil. This shift from interest in Jesus’ teachings to questions about Jesus’ person, authority, and social role eventually produced a host of different mythologies. The mythology most familiar to Christians of today developed in northern Syria and Asia Minor, where Jesus’ death was interpreted as a martyrdom and a miraculous event of crucifixion and resurrection.

Acknowledging that the stories of the empty tomb are myths freed me to consider alternative interpretations to the ‘fundamentalist’ Christian view that the resurrection was historical fact and the crucifixion was atonement for original sin. I am using Richard Rohr's definition of myth here. As he says in his book, The Universal Christ, “Remember, myth does not mean “not true,” which is the common misunderstanding; it actually refers to things that are always true!”

The resurrection can be interpreted as spiritual truth rather than physical truth – Jesus was experienced by his followers as Lord/God after his death – this is a view often expressed by liberal Christians.

The resurrection can be interpreted as a psychological truth – experiences of the risen Christ were an expression of the great love that his friends had for him, just as many people today experience the presence of loved ones after their deaths.

The resurrection can be interpreted as an archetypal or mystical truth – Jesus represents the dying and rising god motif, which tells cosmic truths about life and death, linking the dark unconscious with the light of consciousness, leading to wholeness – this view is influenced by Jungian psychology and often expressed by modern mystics.

Two liberal Christian writers who have influenced my understanding of the resurrection are Richard Rohr and Matthew Fox. They both understand the resurrection in terms of the 'Universal Christ' or 'Cosmic Christ.'

Richard Rohr says in his book The Universal Christ, “In the resurrection, Jesus Christ was revealed as the Everyman and Everywoman in their fulfilled state... The “Christ journey” is indeed another name for every thing... Resurrection is contagious, and free for the taking. It is everywhere visible and available for those who have learned how to see, how to rejoice, and how to neither hoard nor limit God's ubiquitous gift.”

Matthew Fox says in his Easter blog, “The “paschal mystery” of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus the rabbi is an archetypal reminder about how, as science now teaches us, all things in the cosmos live, die and resurrect. Supernovas, galaxies, solar systems, planets, beings that inhabit our planet—we all have our time of existence and of passing out of existence. But we leave something behind for further generations and that constitutes resurrection. Supernovas leave elements behind in a great explosion that seed other solar systems, planets and even our very bodies... Jesus left behind the gift of his teachings... That compassion and justice are what link us to the Divine and that we are to look for the Kingdom of God but within ourselves and among others in community for the love that is at once our love of neighbor and our love of God... We do not die once. We all die many times. Life does that to us with our losses, our betrayals, our own mistakes and emptying out. But we also resurrect on a regular basis as well. We forgive, we are forgiven, we bottom out, we move on, we give birth anew... The depths of the valley of death do not overcome the power of life which makes things new again.”

My journey with the resurrection has been a journey from head to heart. I am no longer struggling to accept Jesus' resurrection as a one-off historical event in one person's life. I now understand it as a cosmic truth or the archetypal pattern of every human life.

For me, the resurrection story is a universal truth illustrating the transformative power of love. Jesus suffers and dies. He is healed and lives. Jesus is changed or ‘transfigured’ by his death and resurrection; the witnesses are changed by their experience of the presence of Jesus’ spirit after his death. Just as we are all changed by suffering – by grief, betrayal, despair and shame – through love we heal and live anew. The message I take from it is that love is the most powerful force of all, stronger even than death. Rejoice!

Lent Reflections Week 7: Faith

On this Easter Saturday I think of the women of faith who gathered near the tomb of Jesus, watching and waiting through the silence of the sabbath.

Unitarianism is a creed-less faith. It is hard to describe my faith, beyond that it is a faith in love as our ultimate purpose.

What I can tell you is what it means to me to be a woman of faith; how my faith compels me to try to treat others with respect and compassion; how my faith allows me to be comfortable with ambiguity; how my faith helps me develop the confidence to step into the unknown and try new things, to nurture them and to let them go if necessary; how my faith helps me understand that I do not need to fix disagreements and conflicts immediately or by myself; how my faith teaches me to ask for help when I need it, to learn from others and to remain open to change; how, in faith, I allow life to unfold.

What does faith mean to you?

Lent Reflections Week 7: Pain

The worst pain I ever experienced was emotional rather than physical. In my early twenties I lost my beloved dog when I let him off the lead in some woodland and he didn’t come back when called. After searching until dark I went home and reported him missing to the police. Every day I rang the police to ask if he had been found. Every day they told me no. I continued searching the woods, and put up posters in the local shops and the students union, offering a reward. I searched all day and at night I cried myself to sleep. The anguish of not knowing what had happened to him was unbearable. I missed him so much and of course I felt horribly guilty too.

After about a week a student rang me to say that he had followed her home and she had taken him to the police. I rang the police back and insisted they re-check their records. Oh sorry, they said, there’s been a mix-up – he was found and he was taken to a kennel in Huddersfield. A friend drove me to collect him. As we pulled into the car park I heard the heart-rending sound of him howling and I knew he’d been doing that all week. The joy when we were reunited was incredible. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest with love. Tears of relief poured down my face as I hugged him close. After a week in kennels he smelled terrible!!

My story of pain had a happy ending, but so many don’t. Today I think of all those for whom pain, whether physical or emotional, is a constant companion.

Lent Reflections Week 6: Truth

I grew up in the Anglican Church, but the ‘sin and salvation’ side of Christianity never resonated with me. At school I became fascinated by the different approaches of world religions to ‘the big questions’ and decided to study Theology and Religious Studies at university. The more I studied world religions, the more I understood them as human constructs, which left me disillusioned with the idea of finding the ‘truth’.

I now realise that trying to discern the ‘truth’ of one religion from another is a false endeavour, truth is subjective. What is important is thinking about what is true for us and living in accordance with that truth. My truth, 'appreciation of the interconnected web of being,' leads me to tread lightly on the earth by trying to live as sustainably as possible and to follow the ‘golden rule’, treating others with respect and compassion.

My understanding of Unitarian spirituality is the search for what gives our lives truth and meaning, in loving relationship with each other, and the fostering of deep connection – to each other and to the divine, which is in everything.

What is your truth?

Lent Reflections Week 6: Sanctuary

I am blessed to have found my sanctuary in Chorlton Unitarians – the building and the people. We read this responsive blessing, based on the words of Sandra Fees, at our anniversary service last year.

We bless this space and each other. May this truly be a sanctuary for all of us, for those who have passed, who are already here and those who have yet to arrive, a place where we embrace and celebrate diversity in all its forms. May open-hearted hospitality be our passion and custom, and may we cherish this building as a place where each has the opportunity to be heard, understood and accepted. May we invite full participation in religious life so that no one is left out of this beloved community to which we dedicate ourselves.

We bless this sanctuary as a place of peace and love.

We bless this space and each other. May this truly be a sanctuary that sparks the imagination and sparkles with beauty. May this be a place of self-expression for the unfolding of possibilities and potentials. Here may the creative gifts of music, dance, art, poetry, story-telling, conversation, thinking, teaching and leadership be free flowing, nourishing our minds, hearts, and spirits. May this space serve as a canvas for future creativity.

We bless this sanctuary as a place of peace and love.

We bless this space and each other. May this truly be a sanctuary that inspires us to live out our faith by serving the cause of love and justice in the world. May our hearts be made kind and our spirits emboldened to act. May the fire of our commitment burn boldly, because we know that all beings long as we do for laughter, nurture, sustenance, rest and care.

We bless this sanctuary as a place of peace and love.

We bless this space and each other. May this truly be a sanctuary that radiates the warmth of relationship. May it be a place that nurtures and sustains human kinship, offering shelter and comfort, and creating bonds of affection and care. May it reach out into the larger community and world. May we be woven ever more artfully and lovingly into the interconnected web of life of which we are all a part.

We bless this sanctuary as a place of peace and love. Amen.

Lent Reflections Week 6: Trust

‘Trust is something that must be earned’ is a common phrase, but if we expect others to earn our trust, we place the responsibility on them. We only take responsibility for ourselves when we give trust freely.

For me, trust is something that must be learned. This lesson has not been easy for me. My subconscious brain learned, through experiencing childhood trauma, that the only person I could trust was me. And so I became extremely self-reliant. If I ask for help, I place my trust in others and risk disappointment.

To mitigate against my anxiety, which is fear of the unknown, I spent much of my life trying to keep myself safe by trying to plan every tiny detail. But complete control is an illusion. Life is chaotic. Change is the only certainty.

Unitarianism does not give you answers, but rather supports you as you ask the questions. As I step into faith, I step into trust. I let go of the need to be in control of every little detail. I embrace the Great Mystery. It is a relief not have to try to understand everything or to want to know exactly how things are going to work out. I am able to give trust freely, not knowing whether it will be repaid.

Last weekend, while on retreat, I reflected on how far I have come on the journey of trust. When my husband texted me, asking about my plans for the day, I replied that I had no idea and that it was liberating not knowing what was going to happen.

Later that day I was ‘initiated’ into the group by being anointed. Such intimacy would have made me very uncomfortable a few years ago. But last weekend, through trust, I opened my heart to receive love, in one of the most tender and blissful experiences of my life.

Cherish Your Doubts by Michael A Schuler
“Cherish your doubts, for doubt is the servant of truth. Question your convictions, for beliefs too tightly held strangle the mind and its natural wisdom. Suspect all certitudes, for the world whirls on—nothing abides. Yet in our inner rooms full of doubt, inquiry and suspicion, let a corner be reserved for trust. For without trust there is no space for communities to gather or for friendships to be forged. Indeed, this is the small corner where we connect—and reconnect—with each other.”

Lent Reflections Week 5: Grace

This is a word I had some resistance to for a long time. I associated it with the line from the song, "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me." Saving, wretch, all that stuff does not compute with me. So I didn't really get what grace is about until a few weeks ago, when I was one of the first on the scene of an accident on my way to church. A woman had been knocked down by a car whilst trying to cross the road. She was lying face down on the tarmac. Her shoes and glasses had come off and were lying either side of her. The young woman who had been driving the car was sobbing uncontrollably. A young man was phoning an ambulance. A woman was yelling for help. The woman yelling for help and I talked to the woman who had been knocked down and ascertained that the car had hit her arm, and she had banged her head falling, but was otherwise unhurt. We managed to get a scarf under her face, very gently, to make her more comfortable. It was raining so I put my umbrella up over her head. I picked up her shoes and glasses, and put them in her handbag. Other passers-by began stopping to help. Someone found a blanket in the boot of their car to cover her. Someone else turned out to be a counsellor, who began comforting the driver of the car. Two other passers-by turned out to be doctors, who took charge while we waited for the ambulance. When I returned home from church I had a flash of clarity. Grace was at work that morning at the crossroads. In the words of the song, I "was blind, but now I see."

Lent Reflections Week 5: Sacred

I had my first spiritual experience at about ten years old, on a family holiday on Rousay in Orkney. There are few people on this wild island, but there is archaeological evidence of ancient human habitation in abundance. One evening I left the holiday cottage for the Neolithic burial chamber in the field nearby. I descended into the chamber, removed my shoes and socks, and sat with my back against the earth wall. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of the deep, dark earth. Suddenly I felt transported back in time along an unbroken chain to the early farmers who buried their dead there long ago and I knew, deep in my heart, as they did, that the earth is our womb, cradle, shelter and tomb. The ancestral connection to the earth I experienced that day is still the focus of my spirituality, the essence of which could be summed up by the phrase, 'appreciation of the interconnected web of being.'
What is it that you hold sacred?

Lent Reflections Week 4: Gratitude

One of the greatest gifts that my Unitarian spirituality has given me is increased gratitude. I appreciate the beauty of everyday life more. Every day I am grateful to be alive and well on this beautiful earth.

A gratitude jar is a lovely way to practice gratitude. A couple of years ago a member of Chorlton Unitarians led a letting go service on a Friday evening once a month and invited participants to contribute to a gratitude jar - writing what we were grateful for on pieces of paper and adding them to the jar. At the end of the year we opened the jar and read all the pieces of paper. What a wonderful reminder of the precious gift that is life!

Lent Reflections Week 4: Mercy

I have some difficulty with this word, which probably stems from its frequent pairing with the word sin in Christianity:
"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
However, if we look to the Psalms or the Qur'an, we see that it is most often paired with the word compassion.
"The Lord is gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy. The Lord is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works." Psalm 145:8-9
Every surah of the Qur'an starts with the words, "In the name of Allah, the compassionate, the merciful."
The word compassion means suffering with. Whilst it is possible to show mercy without feeling compassion or to feel compassion without showing mercy, more often mercy flows from compassion. If we feel someone else's suffering, we are likely to behave in a kind and forgiving way towards them. What we give out flows back to us.
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." Matthew 5:7

Lent Reflections Week 4: Blessing

I am lucky to have so many blessings in my life. Today's blessings have included spring sunshine and sharing circle with women embodying the divine feminine of Manchester, Mamucium.

The blessing or benediction is often my favourite part of a Sunday service. To bless one another is powerful. Two of my most loved blessings are Irish - the first, traditional:

"May the road rise with you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
May the rain fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again may God hold you
In the hollow of her hand"

and the second, one that John O'Donohue wrote for his mother:

"On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.

And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets in to you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green,
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life."

Beannacht by John O'Donohue

Lent Reflections Week 3: Play

"I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Mary Oliver

Remember that advert for a well known chocolate bar that promised one a day would help you work, rest and play? How many of us make time to play every day? I know I don't. I don't mean sitting in front of the TV. I mean actively doing something enjoyable. Today I made time to go for a walk to my sit spot by the river, where I lay in the grass, soaking up the sun, and listening to the chiff-chaffs calling and the parakeets squabbling in the trees. Bliss!

Lent Reflections Week 3: Focus

The equinoxes are special times of balance, when light and dark are poised in perfect equilibrium, until the balance tips over into the light in spring and dark in autumn. The equinox encourages us to consider balance and harmony in our lives, as we did in our meditation, and to consider how we can play our part in restoring balance to the world.

The inner darkness of the subconscious, which corresponds to the underworld, holds our potential for the year ahead, gestating plans and ideas. Just like the seeds and bulbs beneath the soil, all this new growth is now ready to burst forth into the light and warmth of spring. Nature is starting the great greening, blossom is beginning to appear.

After the equinox, the balance tips over towards the light and the days are now longer than the night. As the power of the sun increases and the days lengthen, we may be able to spend more time outside and to feel that surge of energy around us on the earth as we move into the active part of the year, the growing season. The lengthening days facilitate the transfer of energy from the inside to the outside, from Spirit into Matter. What is within flows towards manifestation. Whatever we bring to our thoughts will grow- love, wishes, intentions, visions, hopes and dreams. Whatever we give our energy to will grow, so let us consciously give life to the seeds we have been nurturing through the winter.

Joanna van der Hoeven says in her book, Zen for Druids:
“Spring is a great time to focus on Right Intention. We are planting the seeds for the rest of the year, and we want those seeds to be good seeds that will give us much nourishment. Thich Nhat Hanh speaks of the seeds we carry within us, such as the seed of anger, the seed of compassion, the seed of laziness and the seed of joy. We have both positive and negative seeds within us all the time. The importance isn’t necessarily on the positive and negative seeds within us, but rather which seeds we will tend to and water. When we water the seed of anger, we become angry. When we water the seed of compassion, we become compassionate. We don’t have to water the seeds that will cause us or others to suffer. Instead with Right Intention we work to bring harmony and balance, joy and peace at the returning light in our lives.”

Lent Reflections Week 2: Search

"A free and responsible search for truth and meaning."
(Fourth Principle of the Unitarian Universalist Association)

I discovered the Unitarian community the year I turned forty. On the surface I had a full life – a busy job, a loving relationship with my long-term partner, a close relationship with my family, and a network of friends. I was physically fit and active, and aside from mild anxiety around my stressful job, I was doing ok, but I was plagued by a niggling feeling that there was something missing.

The niggling feeling coalesced into a longing for spiritual community. I knew what gave my life truth and meaning was awareness and celebration of the interconnected web of being. I vaguely identified these beliefs as pagan, but the idea of joining a coven or similar group with a particular focus or fixed way of doings things did not appeal to me.

Sometimes I used to take a break from my job to meditate quietly in the Roman Catholic Church on Oxford Road. Occasionally I attended lunchtime Mass there, but although I found the liturgy beautiful, the theology behind it did not resonate with me at all and there was no community feeling there. Then my friend moved from London to Manchester, to a house on the edge of Longford Park. As I went to visit her I walked past the Chorlton Unitarian Church.

The word ‘Unitarian’ rang bells in my head – I had a vague memory from a paragraph in a text book from my university course in modern Christian history. That night I checked out the church website and the diversity of the services it described sounded just what I was looking for. So that Sunday I walked through the door, rather nervous and shy. I found a kind and welcoming community, and very quickly felt at home..

Joining the Unitarian community has enriched my life immeasurably. I have met such lovely people and formed firm friendships. My commitment to living a life of compassion has deepened. I appreciate the beauty of everyday life more. I definitely have a much better handle on my anxiety. I have discovered a wealth of spiritual writers and I have acquired a new set of spiritual ancestors.

At the beginning of the first service I attended the Minister said that Unitarians are people looking for truth, meaning, love and deep connection. On hearing these words, I knew I had found my spiritual home. In the Unitarian community, I find truth and meaning continue to unfold, and I am met with love and the fostering of deep connection – to each other and to the divine, which is in everything.

Lent Reflections Week 2: Heal

My exploration of the work of St Hildegard of Bingen has led me to focus on her medicine recently. I would highly recommend the books pictured below. Hildegard's medicine, which was part of European pre-modern medicine, used the system of the fours- four humours, four temperament, four seasons, four elements. This system has parallels in Ayurvedic and Chinese medicine. Anatomical knowledge has led modern medicine away from humours as a valid way of describing the human body. Whilst the humoral system may not be physiologically accurate, the interconnection of the physical, psychological and spiritual has been neglected in modern medicine to our detriment, I believe.

A key concept in Hildegard's healing system is 'viriditas' or greening power, which she used to describe photosynthesis, the life-force and the visible power of the holy spirit in the world. The more I read the more I realise that all her work is healing work as it is all concerned with restoring wholeness.

"I am for all eternity the vigour of the God-head.
I do not have my source in time.
I am the divine power through which God decided and sanctioned the creation of all things.
I am the reflection of providence for all.
I am the resounding Word,
The It-Shall-Be that I intone with mighty power from which all the world proceeds."
Hildegard of Bingen, translated by Gabriele Uhlein

Lent Reflections Week 2: Courage

Courage comes from an old French word meaning heart.
For me, courage is about following your heart, even when your head is scared to do so.
When my Grandad died in August 2015, aged 95, my Mum had the courage not only to ask me to lead the funeral, but also to write and read her own tribute. My sister had the courage to write and read the eulogy. My second cousin had the courage to read a poem. Every word in that funeral was spoken by a family member. Every word was spoken by a person whose head was frightened of speaking in public and whose heart was full of grief for a man who had loved and cared for us all for so long. As children my sister and I nicknamed him 'funny Grandad' because of his quick wit and his dry sense of humour.
When Mum first asked me to take the funeral I wanted to say no. I was worried I would break down in the service and not be able to carry on. My family all encouraged me. I didn't say no. My heart said yes. As I stepped up to the lectern my knees knocked and my hands shook. But I didn't break down until the very end, when I put my hand on Grandad's coffin and said my own private goodbye.
As we were leaving the chapel, the funeral director said to me that it was the most moving and personal funeral she had ever witnessed.
May you follow your heart

Lent Reflections Week 2: Acceptance

My sister lives in southern Spain. She got married a few years ago in Gibraltar. I wasn't there, because I wasn't invited. Now I don't want to give you the wrong impression. She is a lovely person and we have a good relationship. Her and her husband had planned the wedding as a surprise for his mother's birthday. My parents were also going on holiday to visit them at the same time.

Originally I was going to go with them, but at the last minute I decided to accompany my cousin and her children there a month later. In order to keep their plans a secret, my sister did not inform me of them so the first thing I knew about the wedding was when she What's App'd the photos to me after the event.

I was upset. I was angry. Actually, I was more than angry, I was livid. It took me quite a while to come to terms with missing out on her big day.

I have always struggled with the concept of non-attachment, taught in Buddhism and Taoism. If we don't form emotional attachments, how do we care? But when I looked at it in the context of my sister's wedding, it made sense. It wasn't my emotional attachment to my sister that was the problem per se. The problem was my attachment to a particular outcome, to my expectations, and those were created by my ego. My anger and disappointment came from the gap between my expectations and my experience.

When I looked at why I felt hurt and angry I realised that it was my ego that was bruised. My expectations had not been met. I was attached to a particular outcome. I felt entitled to be at my sister's wedding. I judged her actions against all of this.

Once I relinquished my inflated sense of self-importance I was able to let go of my anger and disappointment, by letting go of my expectations and attachment to a particular outcome, and move towards forgiveness, of both of us, and finally into acceptance.

"Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you." Lao Tzu

Lent Reflections Week 1: Resilience

Some years ago, the breakdown of a professional working relationship resulted in me taking six weeks' sick leave with work-related stress and anxiety.

For months I had been shouted at and belittled. I began internalising all that negativity towards me, thinking it must be me in the wrong. I dreaded going into work so much that I began to have panic attacks on the bus in the mornings. One day I snapped and broke down. I met with my line managers, who were very supportive in facilitating me finding a new role.

The doctor signed me off work for six weeks. By this time I was in such poor mental health that I couldn’t sleep or eat. I was terrified of not finding a new job and applied frantically for everything I saw that seemed even vaguely suitable. Luckily I was offered a new job within the first few weeks, which meant I was then able to concentrate on recovering.

Not having work to fill my days was very strange at first. I had to slow down. I began to take long walks along the river and through the woods every day. Walking in nature has always been restorative for me. It took a long time to heal but, with the support of my partner, by the end of the six weeks I was ready to return to work. I had found find that divine inner spark that allowed me to see that the layers of self-loathing I had accumulated weren’t the true heart of me and I began to rediscover my self-worth.

During those months I learned about my limits of endurance, my inner resources and that everything passes. I learned that there is no shame in mental health issues and that it is ok to ask for help. I learned what nourishes my soul. Most of all I learned the meaning of the word resilience.

Lent Reflections Week 1: Struggle

Sometimes I struggle to say no. 
Sometimes I struggle to make time for myself. 
Sometimes I struggle to keep my anxiety from overwhelming me. 
Sometimes I struggle getting into and out of my trousers.
I don't struggle to keep a roof over my head or provide for myself materially. 
I don't struggle with a major health condition or disability.
I don't struggle to be accepted for who I am.
So today I think of all those who are homeless, who are in poverty, who are sick or disabled, who face discrimination and prejudice. I think of all those who struggle with things unsaid and unknown by anyone other than themselves. May they have hope, know love and find peace.

Lent Reflections Week 1: Bravery

Selected Lent reflections continued: bravery

For the past few years I have indulged in a peculiar habit. On Ash Wednesday, to mark the beginning of Lent, I attend the lunchtime Mass at Holy Name Church on Oxford Road and the priest marks my forehead with ashes in the shape of a cross. What does a Unitarian gain from taking part in this ritual? Well, for me, it is less about the cross and more about the ashes.

One of the Roman Catholic priests at the University told me that more people attend Mass on Ash Wednesday than do so at Christmas. It is a very powerful ritual. The Roman Catholic liturgy of Ash Wednesday focuses on sin and penance. The sin and salvation narrative was one of the reasons I left mainstream Christianity. While the words of the liturgy don't speak to my current theology, the ashes do. They are a reminder of my mortality and my earthiness. “For dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return,” Genesis 3:19.

We are children of Earth and Starry Heaven. To quote the physicist Carl Sagan, “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of star-stuff.” The earth too is made of star-stuff. The elements that make up our bodies have existed since the first supernova. When our bodies return to the earth our atoms become the building blocks of new life. We are part of the cosmic dance of the universe, the natural cycle of life and death, of birthing and nurturing, of sickness and health, of growing up and growing old.

Ash Wednesday is a reminder of our interconnectedness. The interconnected, interdependent web of existence is not only Earthly, but universal. The earth and the heavens, our selves, everything in the universe is made of the same star stuff.

We are made of the same stuff as the earth and our fates are thus bound together. There is an element of penitence in me receiving the ashes. I am reminded of my share in the guilt of humanity for our failure to act as stewards to the earth from which we are made.

The Ash Wednesday narrative of sin and salvation is for me, not just individual, but collective and cosmic. I am not just guilty of petty faults. I share in our collective responsibility, our culpability for destroying the earth, she who is our womb, cradle, shelter and tomb. Redemption, then, is not just individual, but collective and cosmic. When we are redeemed to take care of the earth, according to our true calling, then will the earth also be saved from the destruction we have wrought upon Her.

This year I was unable to attend the Ash Wednesday Mass as I was attending the annual service of thanksgiving I organise for those who have donated their bodies to medical science at the University of Manchester. We hadn't deliberately chosen to hold the service on Ash Wednesday this year, it was just a coincidence, but was I feel quite appropriate. For the service reminded us of our own mortality and our interconnectedness, as we expressed our gratitude to those courageous people who had left us a legacy – a legacy of their own bodies, for the benefit of future generations.

As part of my duties organising the service, I compiled a booklet of messages of appreciation from students to the families. It really brought it home to me that there is a beginning in every ending. For the families, a donor is a personal loss, but for the students they each represent a beginning. One body aids in the education of about 50 students. In death, the donors have an impact on so many lives. What a wonderful legacy.

I have been pondering on my own legacy, my own mortality, asking myself, What is getting in the way of me of how I would like to live my one wild and precious life? Is there something I could let go of or change to honour the gift that is this day? What would allow me to become more loving, more joyful, more grateful?

Lent Reflections Week 1: Intention

A selection of my daily Lent reflections, starting with Intention:

My intention during Lent is to take up a new spiritual practice and observe my own version of Shabbat from sundown on Fridays to sundown on Saturdays. (Yeah I know I'm mixing faith traditions, but hey, I'm Unitarian, it's what we're good at!) So, from sunset on Fridays to sunset on Saturdays I will be limiting my electronic device usage to leaving my phone on in case of emergencies. I will not be replying to emails, posting on social media, updating websites, writing sermons, arranging worship rotas, or doing anything else that might be considered work and / or useful. I look forward to how this practice unfolds.