A salty unity.

Simone Weil was a French Jew who died of hunger during World War Two.
Simone was extremely well educated and came from a wealthy family.
She worked in the factories and lived on tinned rations. Simone was so affected by what was happening to others she decided to live as they lived.
Simone was drawn strongly to the sacramental life of the church . Her desire to be baptised became overwhelming to her.
Yet she declined, and spent the rest of her short life regarding the bread and wine of holy communion without ever eating them.
Regarding them was enough for her, determination to stay hungry gave her strength.

During this time of lockdown I’ve been hungry too.
Experiencing those familiar unsettled feelings often felt during the first few weeks of a new diet. The longing to find chocolate and cheese in the fridge . Only to find precooked jacket potatoes and a withered salad .
After a while you start to understand the answer to satisfying your hunger cannot be found in the fridge.
It’s about a change of attitude.
As the world endures the worst imaginable suffering . The hunger I feel pierces a bright light in this dark storm.
It’s from these pains of hunger that I take a new fresh bearing. Discovering worship in a different timeless dimension. Worship that does not start at 9.15 on a Sunday morning. Nor does it end after 45 minutes.
Worship is barren of rules, no dress code, no words. A sacred intimate place of mystery. Time stands still as struggle with the pain and sorrow . Tears roll uncontrollably as I find joy in this creative hunger.
An empty glass move my thoughts from hunger to freedom. I become more aware of my own personal rhythms of prayer. Awareness of the frailness and pain of the earth.
It’s taken me back to the story of Simone Weil. I am reminded that is important and ok to be deeply affected by what’s happening around us.
To weep each day does little to ease the pain. The tears have an energy of their own. A salty unity that partners with a overflowing love for each other.
During lockdown we have literately fed each other. Prepared meals for neighbours and friends.

Our combined hunger is woven and twisted into a strong soft blanket. A blanket that hugs me into Gods waiting arms, sharing sorrows of the world.

The alters maybe naked, the candles extinguished and the church doors locked. My spiritual diet has changed.
I’m hungry; the hunger pains are real essential and fruitful.
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Glitter Hug’s

Once a year I reach into the back of my wardrobe to find  my best  rainbow-coloured clothes. Next comes the make – up which  includes painted flowers, rainbows , glitter, all perfect for spending the  afternoon at our local pride festival.
It’s a glittering festival  celebrating and demonstrating the wonderful diversity of love .  I spent  time  with a very unique inspiring friend ; catching up on his year and wishing we did not leave it so long before meeting up.
Most importantly we had a lot of fun: dancing,  eating,  partying , soaking up the atmosphere, enjoying the free hugs and love that you only get at Pride.
When we could dance no more, we exchanged glitter-laden hugs, laughed the way our painted faces left impressions on each other and we went our separate ways.
Both knowing despite good intentions it would be another year before we meet up again.
Seeking a coffee I found myself sat in the  peaceful Cathedral gardens; in the distance the Pride festival was still filling the air with music.
The week’s troubles and questions soon filled the quiet spaces and the dark cloud that has been with me all week slowly started to return.
Exiting the Cathedral via the gift shop, I treated myself to a copy of “The Message”. Instead of following the exit signs, I retraced my steps,  sitting  in the cathedral to have a very quick read of my new purchase.
The clouds started to lose their darkness ; questions that had no answers had light and hope.
Sitting on my own I was reading one of Peter’s letters’  in a busy Cathedral on a Saturday afternoon I was totally obvious to time and people ;  other than the presence of God which I felt so strongly.
Reading and praying caused lots of tears to form and as they ran they picked up the glitter and colours from my painted face and dropped multi-coloured glitter tears on my lap leaving rainbow marks on the pages of my new book.
Picking up my bag, smearing rainbow tears over my face I joined the congregation for choral  Evensong.
Evensong that Saturday was also a celebration;  a special wedding anniversary was being blessed at the service.
Sat with the wedding guests , I looked like a over-excited 40 year old having some sort of rainbow midlife crisis.
I was reminded why Pride is so important, working to ensure individuals and organisations can all be united by love.
Gods loves  us regardless of gender or sexuality, we are loved and made by God our Father.  For me the rainbow is a beautiful reminder that God is merciful and made a covenant of grace that he would never again judge with a worldwide Flood.

Leaving  the Cathedral  I felt like a multi-coloured rainbow full of life and energy and wanting to share my love.

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