2025/2026
FAITH AND FRIENDSHIP GUIDELINES 2025/26
SONGS OF HOPE FOR PILGRIMS
CONTENTS
LETTER FROM ANNE & INTRODUCTION
FORMAT FOR GATHERINGS
OPENING & CLOSING PRAYERS
SEPTEMBER: COMMISSIONING OF PILGRIMS JOHN 20: 19-23
OCTOBER: A SONG OF JOY AND SORROW PSALM 126
NOVEMBER: A SONG AT MIDNIGHT ACTS 16: 16-30
DECEMBER: THE ANGELS’ SONG LUKE 2: 8-20
JANUARY: THE SONG OF SILENCE PSALM 131
FEBRUARY: A SONG FROM THE RUBBLE NEHEMIAH4: 10-20
MARCH: SINGING BEFORE BATTLE MARK 14: 22-28
APRIL: CHOOSING THE SONG PHILLIPIANS 2: 5-11
MAY: A SONG OF RESTORATION PSALM 23
JUNE: THE LIGHT BEARERS’ SONG EPHESIANS 5: 8-14
MINUTES OF THE ANNUAL GATHERING 2025
LETTER FROM ANNE AND INTRODUCTION
Dear Friends
This year, in spite of the terrible news of war and the devastating suffering of our fellow human beings bombarding our hearts and spirits on the media, Ruth has found songs of hope in the scriptures to fill us with the deep belief that God has always been with us on our journey and is with us still in the dark days of today’s world. Our pilgrimage continues no matter what, but it is so much easier when we know that his Presence is with us at all times.
We have reached a crossroads of 30 years of Faith and Friendship this year. Which road do we take now to journey onwards? Is this an appropriate year for us all to pray and discern together about how we envisage our Faith and Friendship future? Could we use some of our prayer times to do this together? We ‘hope’ that you will agree and at our May gathering in St Brigid’s, Derryvolgie, hosted this year by Restoration Ministries, we may have some spirit-inspired suggestions for our future.
Thank you Ruth for pointing us towards the golden thread of hope. With this in mind, how can we keep from singing?
Yours in Faith and Friendship
Anne
Dear Friends,
This year we have as our theme ‘Songs of Hope for Pilgrims’. There has never been a time when such songs are more needed than now, as Anne has indicated. Even during the ‘Troubles’ and their aftermath there was always a candle of hope. With our increasing global awareness, it is easy in these days for that candle to flicker. It is people like you who keep it burning. Over thirty years, in little, unsung ways, we have discovered that friendship doesn’t mean us all being the same. We have discovered the gifts of inclusion and of unity in diversity
We have a new respect, born of understanding and friendship, for one another’s traditions. We treasure the riches of faith that we share with each other. We are more steadfast pilgrims because of the journey made together.
As we meet over this year of 2025/26 we will discover that what we live now is not new, that as people lived the future they longed for in the now (which is my favourite definition of hope) they, too, found a song to sing as they journeyed. It is inspiring to bear in mind that Pope Francis, before he died, declared this year to be a Jubilee Year of Hope, a hope that, as he indicated, does not disappoint.
May we find, as we continue our pilgrimage, not disappointment but hope at every turn, and, as we ‘sing our songs’ may we be ever more deeply aware of the God who travels with us and of a common beloved humanity.
Your fellow pilgrim,
Ruth
FORMAT FOR THE MONTHLY MEETING
Opening Prayer: A Prayer of Faith and Friendship
Reading the Scripture Passage
Sharing on the Scripture Passage
Is there anything in the passage that speaks to you directly or any thoughts relating to the passage that you would like to share with others in the group?
Reading the Reflection
Sharing on the Reflection
Time to Pray
A time for thanksgiving and praying for others.
Closing Prayer and Lord’s Prayer
Celebration of Friendship
A time for sharing supper, encouragement and stories of friendship
OPENING PRAYER OF FAITH & FRIENDSHIP
Father we come together in this gathering of Faith and Friendship
- to give and to receive
- to share and to listen
- to understand
- and to discover the richness of your life in one another.
We thank you for your gift of faith and for the various ways we express that gift within our different church traditions.
We thank you for your gift of friendship and for the working of your spirit that has brought us to this meeting place.
We ask for an outpouring of your peace on this neighbourhood where we meet.
We pray for an awakening of Christian community within this island.
Grant that we might catch a vision of the unity you desire for all your people, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
CLOSING PRAYER OF FAITH & FRIENDSHIP
Leader: We leave this place warmed by the faith and friendship of our sisters and brothers.
All: We go in peace.
Leader: We leave this place strengthened by the assurance of God’s companionship on the way.
All: We go in peace.
Leader: We leave this place challenged to see the image of God in everyone we meet.
All: We go in peace.
Leader: We leave this place committed to being makers of peace until we gather together again.
All: We go in peace.
Leader: Let us then go in peace to love and serve the Lord and each other.
All: In the name of Christ. Amen
SEPTEMBER COMMISSIONING OF PILGRIMS
JOHN 20: 19-23
Over 2,000 years ago a small group of people, the disciples, had just lived through a very traumatic week whose culmination saw the execution of their beloved master. Now they were terrified that the same fate awaited them if they were discovered, so they hid away behind locked doors. They were overwhelmed with grief, confusion, anxiety and a fear that was all-consuming. What happened next was totally outside of their experience. Nothing could have prepared them for such a scenario. Suddenly Jesus was standing there among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. To underline that it was really him, he showed them his hands and side – the wounds or the cost of peace making. He repeated his greeting of peace. The peace he embodied was, and is, not an absence of conflict nor a change in the events going on around them. Rather it was a gift of peace in the midst of all the chaos, a sense of inner strength and wellbeing, of shalom that, as they opened themselves up to receiving it, began to empower them with hope, with the possibility of living the future they longed for in the now. It’s this sort of peace Jesus wanted them to receive in order that they might go out into the world as pilgrims of hope. In this first resurrection encounter to the whole community, he says it twice as if to imprint it indelibly on their hearts. As he repeats it he follows it with the commissioning, “As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you.”
All over the world today doors are closing on diversity, on inclusion, on justice, on compassion, on hospitality, on truth. And the motivating force is fear – fear of difference, fear of the unknown, fear of losing control, fear of ‘them’ and fear that there will be less for ‘us’. And we, who as people of faith, know that things should be different feel ourselves overwhelmed and powerless. We too are afraid, so we shut down in order to cope. We, too, lock our inner doors out of fear.
How do we channel our desire and our hope for peace, for shalom for everybody, not just for some, without it destroying us? The secret lies in becoming aware that no locked doors can keep out the Prince of Peace. Behind all our fears, confusion, despair, weariness he comes with a gift that opens the doors of our hearts – the gift of that peace that no one else can give and no one else can take away. Not many of us are in positions where we can influence world leaders, or initiate large peace processes, but if we become aware that God loves to work through the hidden, the little, the seemingly unnoticed ones of this world, then we can all be peace makers, we can all be hope bearers. Every little act, every kind word, every loving thought, even if it never receives acclaim, is vital and, in the unseen world all about us, there is a shift towards inclusion, unity and peace.
In the upper room after Jesus commissions his friends, he breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit. As the Father sent me so I am sending you.” We are not on our own. We go in the empowering of the Spirit, carrying an inner peace to be light bearers of hope to the community round about us. As we become aware of such a Presence within us that can even get beyond the locks and bolts of who we think we are and commune with the real us in a place of mutual love, then hope rises in our hearts. And the song we sing is one of empowering and of freedom, having as an essential element the giving and receiving of forgiveness. I believe that we haven’t even begun to tap into the power that there is in such a process, and that that power could be released into the world about us through you and me and others who awaken to such a calling. This is what frees us up to see things and people differently. This is what throws the doors wide open to inclusion and that sense of unity in diversity, of a deeper awareness of our loving interconnectedness, that we are part of beloved community.. This is what enables us to see that God hasn’t finished with any of us yet. In fact, we’re still only at the beginning of all that he has in his heart for us and for the world. I wonder are we ready to be ‘recommissioned’ as pilgrims of such a hope?
For Reflection:
How big an obstacle is fear for us in our community in Northern Ireland?
Where can we see God working through the hidden, the little, the seemingly unnoticed ones of this world to bring peace and hope?
OCTOBER A SONG OF JOY AND SORROW
PSALM 126
This psalm is known as one of the psalms of ascent and is a song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem, probably on pilgrimage to one of the great religious festivals, most notably Passover. You can, perhaps, with the gift of imagination, picture them as they near their destination, their spiritual home, with an increasing expectancy and, then, in a sudden, spontaneous burst of joy, singing together these beloved words. These people had been in exile for 70 years, beginning with the destruction of Jerusalem, including the Temple, in 586 BC. In 736 BC they were given permission by Cyrus the Great of Persia to return home. This song was probably originally written about this particular homecoming and then became an important part of their liturgy down through the ages as they gave thanks for the faithfulness of God in the past, prayed for continued blessings in the present and affirmed their hope in the promises of God for the future.
But as well as being a ‘community’ hymn, incorporating the shared historical sorrows and joys of an entire nation, this song is for every pilgrim heart, especially for those who are finding the going tough, the road lonely and the journey long – for whatever reason. In today’s world, probably more than at any other time in the history of humankind, there is this deep sense of loneliness, of lostness, of not belonging, It is as if we are increasingly in exile from our true selves and we are finding it difficult to find our way ‘back home’.
As people of faith we believe that we have come from God and we are returning to God. Our earthly experience is a journey, one in which we are challenged to be fully present in the world but also to be conscious of the fact that there is much more that we do not know, an unseen world, another dimension and that what we experience here is but a dim image in a mirror compared to what will one day be revealed. In that sense we are all in exile. When we awaken to that fact, we then may be gifted with the awareness of home and that there is a journey to be made. As several writers remind us, “We are not material beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings who need an earthly journey to become fully spiritual.” Often our only guide is our homesickness. Our new found awareness is not a conscious memory nor is it a mental image. Rather it is something that stirs our gut with varying degrees of intensity, sometimes causing us to weep and lament with a deep, inexpressible longing and, at other times, to be filled with joy unspeakable when we catch a glimpse of the something more that somehow has a sort of déjà vu ring to it; like those pilgrims long ago on catching their first glimpse of the Holy City after so many years of exile. Our earthly pilgrimage will always be characterised by light and darkness, by love and suffering, by sorrow and joy. In fact, these are the experiences that can cause us to grow, if we choose to embrace the challenge. They can become what the Bible calls ‘treasures of darkness’, the fruit of seeds planted along the way, especially in times of devastation or loss. The key here is perseverance, to keep on keeping on, even if the way ahead is hidden. The deeper the night the brighter the stars. It is sometimes when we feel all hope is gone that we can be surprised by signs of movement or growth. Happiness can be a transitory, superficial thing. Joy comes from a place that is much deeper. It pushes its way up through the hard, unyielding ground of pain with a harvest of hope fulfilled. Love and suffering, inextricably interlinked, are our teachers, our nurturers in the ever unfolding relationship between ourselves and God that we call prayer. As we seek to be true to this journey, there may be times when we go to that quiet deep stillness of our hearts and from that place we may hear the faint melody of the song of hope. “Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest.”
For Reflection
What does the image of exile conjure up for you?
In these anxious, uncertain times, does it help to look at life, at faith as a journey, a pilgrimage?
NOVEMBER A SONG AT MIDNIGHT
ACTS1 6: 16-30
Paul and Silas had had a vision where they believed that God had told them to go to Philippi and spread the Good News. They obeyed and the result of their obedience was to find themselves brutally beaten, locked up in the high security wing of the city’s prison, with no hope of escape, feet chained and no one to listen to their side of the story – a situation in which many believers find themselves today in countries whose regimes actively suppress Christianity. What was their reaction? To bemoan their fate? To blame God for the situation in which they found themselves? Not at all! Around midnight, when most people in such a state would have been feeling at their lowest, Paul and Silas began singing hymns to God! Their fellow inmates, held for every sort of crime and none, living life, with no knowledge of a God who loved them, heard this singing in the darkness of their hopeless night. As they listened, firstly with amazement and then, perhaps with an aroused curiosity and expectancy, the building began to shake. In a region known for its earthquakes this one, by today’s standards, would have been high on the Richter Scale. The doors of the prison flew open, and the chains of all the prisoners fell off. The jailor, assuming they had all escaped, was about to kill himself but Paul shouted at him not to harm himself because no one had fled. All were present. You can read the rest of the story, how the jailor and his extended family and servants came to faith, how he provided hospitality and loving care to Paul and Silas and how the tables were turned on the city officials when they learned that Paul and Silas were Roman citizens and should never have been subjected to such brutal treatment in the first place.
Philippi was a Roman colony on the great northern east-west highway, the Egnatian Way. It was a centre of trade and commerce and would have had a very diverse population with lots of coming and going. The new church, planted by Paul and Silas in Philippi, afterwards nurtured by Lydia and her friends, attracted people from all walks of life, different religious, social and racial backgrounds. What a challenge to us as the church today to present ourselves, first and foremost, as a community of believers who practice open hearted hospitality, are united in their diversity and committed to the God we know in Jesus Christ before any denominational or political affiliation. If we truly believe that, if we speak it out, if we then begin to place our lives where our words have been, we are going to attract attention, both positive and negative. When were we last, as the people of God in our area, accused of setting the whole surrounding community in an uproar because we were image bearers of Jesus, committed to inclusion, hospitality, to that unity which is diversity embraced by love? When did anyone last seek to silence us as the Church because of our united witness against racism, sectarianism, senseless violence, and the lack of respect that characterises every sphere of society? We feel overwhelmed at our inability and powerlessness to do anything about the anguished places of Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Myanmar – the list is endless. But what about if we started afresh to address what’s closest to us with a new song of hope? This could have a spin-off beyond what we could imagine to other people and places, imprisoned by war, oppression, and disasters of every kind. This is our Philippi, our mission field. Perhaps we need another seismic shift, a spiritual earthquake to jolt us out of our despair, our weariness, our uncomfortable comfort zones. And we need it not for ourselves alone but so that others held in the stocks of their own despair or anguish or other people’s brutality may take fresh heart and courage, may begin to see things differently and be seized by hope. Such an earthquake will only come from the faithful, united witness of those who have discovered, as Paul and Silas discovered, that if you trust God for something, then you trust him for everything, or else you trust him for nothing. Such an earthquake will only come from those who have a song to sing, even in the midnight of their particular situation, of the faithfulness and the unfailing love of God.
For Reflection
What do you think is at the root of the racism, sectarianism and lack of respect so prevalent in our communities at the present time?
How can we sing a song of hope in the ‘midnights’ of our own particular situation? What might that song be?
DECEMBER THE ANGELS’ SONG
LUKE 2: 8-20
For pilgrim souls, for hearts that are searching, for those who are awakening to the vibrant mystery of faith, Advent signals the rebirth of hope. It is a thin time, a threshold time. We are waiting in the present moment that paradoxically embraces both past and future for something momentous (we know not what) to happen. This is not a feeling we can conjure up. It’s something that, at this point every year, is almost like a supernatural jolt of a memory beyond conscious memory where we recognise (we know again) that we are not alone, that God has made our homelessness his home, and our hearts are strangely attuned to hear the song of the angels. “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth.”
The long chain of history is punctuated with eras where humankind has believed that the time in which they were living was the darkest ever experienced, that it couldn’t get any worse. And yet, it seems to! One such time was the period that spans what we now identify as the transition between BC and AD. The known world declared itself at peace, the pax Romana, fought for and brutally enforced by the Empire. But the darkness of poverty, violence, oppression, displacement and enslavement of peoples, abuses of every kind predominated. In one forgotten corner of the Empire the ordinary people prayed without much concrete hope, as they had done for hundreds of years, for God to intervene. That intervention, planned in the heart of God from all eternity, manifested itself at this particular point in history. Through the willing cooperation of the poor, the little and the forgotten of the earth, the unseen world revealed itself and entered our time and space in the person of Jesus – the Word, the Promise, the Hope became a human being – one with us. For an instant, the veil between heaven and earth was lifted. On the hills outside Bethlehem, shepherds regarded as being from the lowest class in society were keeping vigil, on the lookout for any threat by man or beast to the sheep in their care. They wouldn’t have had thought or time for mystery or for any sense that they stood on the brink of momentous happenings. Life was hard, poverty grinding; if they made it through the night without any losses, that was the best they could hope for. Yet it was these simple folk who were suddenly struck by something totally outside of their experience, a shimmering awareness, a radiance of glory and – an angel whose first words were, “Fear not!” He continued with the good news that would bring great joy to all people everywhere, the birth that very night of a Saviour, Christ the Lord. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was more. The single angel (the word angel simply means messenger) was joined by a host of others, filling the night sky as they sang their song of praise, of promise and of hope fulfilled.
All these centuries later, there is a common perception that the times in which we are living are the darkest and the most threatening they have ever been. The litany of negativity and the seemingly unstoppable onslaught of lust for power and control, along with the greed that produces climate change, and the dehumanization or demonization of vast populations of humankind cause us to fear that we are on the brink of destruction. Over all is the menacing mantle of fear. We love the story of the angels – yet that’s basically the way we tend to think of this momentous event; almost like a sanctified fairy story. Where is, or do we even expect, a messenger of God who will come to us today with the words, “Fear not”?
Could it be that in spite of all evidence to the contrary, God, who is always the ‘I Am’ is in this present moment ushering in a new age of peace; that what we are living through right now are not signs of end times, but the birth pangs of a new day? For unto US is born this day a Saviour. Could it be that, as we keep watch this Advent, we too might be gripped by a shimmering awareness? I challenge us all to be on tiptoe in our spirits for angels, messengers of hope, of mercy, of truth, of peace. Angels come in many different guises. Let us be alert for these heralds of Good News. Let us cast off the mantle of fear and carry in our hearts a song of hope, for the light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never and will never put it out.
Glory to God in highest heaven and peace on earth , good will to all of humankind!
For Reflection
As we enter once again this special season of the Christian Year, what is your hope?
Have you ever had a moment of shimmering awareness, when that other dimension seemed very near?
JANUARY THE SONG OF SILENCE
Psalm 131
This psalm is yet another song of ascent that the faithful sang as they made their pilgrimage to the Holy City. It is attributed to David. I like to think that he wrote it when he was a much older man, with all the wars and struggles behind him. David was a flawed individual like the rest of us, but throughout his life his trust in God was unwavering. I like to imagine that, as he grew older, this love relationship with God, which is the best definition of prayer I have come across, deepened and matured. In that maturing he embraced the power of silence, simply being in communion with God without words. He no longer feels the need to cry out or to petition God for anything, but simply to rest in the presence of the Lord in whom alone is his hope.
As we continue on our pilgrimage of faith, we, too, may find that the fragrance of prayer begins to permeate every step we seek to take, becoming the heartbeat of our being and doing; – all forms of prayer but especially in recent times contemplative or centering prayer, hugely liberating because it does not depend upon us. All it requires is that we let go and consent to God’s presence and action within. As our trust in such divine encounter grows, as God is given the ‘freedom’ to work within us, so that what is going on is his agenda rather than ours, I believe, in an inexplicable way, something begins to happen in the unseen world, that third dimension that is all about us and within us. There are the faint rumblings of a seismic shift that creates the space for inclusion, for a welcoming of diversity, for the sense of a broken and beloved humanity belonging together.
When we engage in such practices, there is a dawning awareness of the unity of all created things/beings, at the very centre of which is the beloved community of the Triune God, constantly loving, constantly giving, constantly present. Such prayer invites us to be still, something that many of us find hard to do, or should I say be. It is only in stillness that we begin to awaken to awareness, maybe specifically awareness of mystery – that there’s so much more for us to experience of this God who can never be fully known. In such a space we are drawn into the gift, not only of Presence but of the present moment. In such a space we can initially feel as if we are descending into pain, confusion, even despair before we tentatively spread our wings and find that we are borne up by the breath of the Spirit and that we are called to go with the flow in trust and surrender. In a book called ‘The Soul of the Night’ Chet Rayno writes, “There is a tendency for us to flee from the wild silence and the wild dark, to pack up our gods and hunker down behind city walls, to turn the gods into idols, to kowtow before them and approach their precincts only in the official robes of office. And when we are in the temples, who then will hear the voice crying in the wilderness? Who will hear the reed shaken by the wind?” Maybe that is part of our difficulty here in Ireland. Unlike the Celtic saints, our forebears who modelled for us something very different, and were always attracted by new frontiers and the call to greater awareness, we have tended to flee from the wild silence and the wild dark. Out of our fear and uncertainty we have made idols out of many things. Fearful of the unknown, we have battened down the hatches and kowtowed to lesser gods who will tell us, admittedly sometimes with tantalising pomp and ceremony, what we should believe and what we want to hear. In so doing we have become anaesthetised to both intimacy and mystery – not a mystery that cannot be known, but one that can be encountered at a level beyond the head. In Celtic Daily Prayer we find such a calling summarised thus: “We have to be candles burning between hope and despair, faith and doubt, life and death, all the opposites. That is the disquieting place where people must always find us. And if our life means anything, it is that somehow by being at peace, we help the world cope with what it cannot understand.”
This, I think, is what David discovered. I have the sense that we, too, are rediscovering this ‘song of silence’, empowering us for the living of these days, as we calm and quieten ourselves, and put our hope in the Lord.
For Reflection.
Can you see silence and stillness as a gift? In what way?
As a group, could you perhaps take a few minutes in silence together consciously in the presence of God who is Love incarnate?
FEBRUARY A SONG FROM THE RUBBLE
Nehemiah 4: 10-20
Over the last few years we have become distressingly and shockingly used to seeing pictures of rubble, most notably from places like Gaza. And it’s not just the rubble; it’s the stories such wreckage and devastation imply. If stones could speak they would tell of livelihoods, homes, families, beloved places, once vibrant and now seemingly gone forever, a people and a homeland wiped out. There are times when we cannot bear to witness the anguish, so helpless and powerless do we feel.
In 736 BC when the exiles returned to their homeland from Babylon they found a land and a city changed beyond all imagining. The people who had remained, those who had not been taken captive, were demoralised and afraid. It took some time, but eventually, with the right leadership, most notably that of Nehemiah, they began to rebuild their shattered lives and their city, starting with the walls. Faced with the enormity of the task and the taunts of their enemies who had a vested interest in keeping Jerusalem a place of ruin and its people divided, they often felt very afraid, intimidated and were even sometimes exploited by their own. They did sing as they worked but some of their songs were deeply despairing. One such, as translated in the Good News Bible, goes like this:
We grow weak carrying burdens; there’s so much rubble to take away; how can we build the wall today?
During Advent 2023, a Lutheran pastor in Bethlehem, Rev Munther Isaac, preached a sermon entitled “Christ in the Rubble; a Liturgy of Lament.” The crib scene depicted the infant Jesus lying, not in a manger, but in a pile of rubble. This image, accompanied by his powerful words awakened international awareness to the trauma and anguish in his country in a way that little else had done prior to that point. And it reminded us forcibly, if we needed a reminder, that Christ is most surely present in all the places of rubble in the world, whatever the cause, be it earthquake, war, famine and all the consequences of our inhumanity to one another.
Although far from the scale of unimaginable devastation we see in Gaza today, we, too, in our recent past, have experienced the rubble left by thirty years of violence both in physical buildings and livelihoods but also in the wreckage in so many lives. Today there are few signs left of material destruction, as redevelopment and planning have created different spaces and places. The task of rebuilding lives, nurturing of relationships, releasing of old hurts, encouraging fresh understanding of one another takes much longer. It is still a slow process as we all seek to deal with the rubble in our own lives. We are grateful for how far we have travelled while being conscious that we still have a long way to go. We still can be taunted by the enemies of peace who have a vested interest in keeping us divided. We still can be exploited by our ‘own’ both in Church and State who are trapped by a conditioned and limited vision of what beloved community is all about. Looking back we can be so thankful for the many people who have provided practical and prophetic leadership and the courage shown by so many nameless saints without whom the journey into peace would be much more difficult to navigate.
Faith and Friendship, thirty years old this year, is one such prime example. These small gatherings of people, among whom each one of you is numbered, from different traditions who meet together once a month in different parts of the country to share their faith in an atmosphere of friendship, have given the opportunity for those who wanted to but didn’t know how to go about it, to engage with others who are different, to experience a common humanity and to awaken to the joy of unity in diversity. Celtic tradition held all life to be sacramental, affirming the presence of God in even the smallest everyday tasks. Everyone can do something to make a difference. The little ‘something’ of Faith and Friendship may be found one day to have had a more profound effect than we might ever think.
So whenever we feel despairing and think that this journey is taking us nowhere, let’s remember that in the upside down kingdom of God no action empowered by faith and hope and love is ever wasted. It is the domino effect of repeated little actions that will sweep away the obstacles to that peace, that total wellbeing for which we all yearn – and not only for ourselves but for every place and person where there is no peace. We can build the future we long for in the now.
For reflection
In the rubble experiences of your personal or collective life, how have you experienced Christ present?
Can you believe in the power of the little to effect huge change?
MARCH SINGING BEFORE BATTLE
Mark 14: 22-28
Throughout history music has been an important tool in situations of combat to rally troops, to inspire courage and to create a sense of purpose and of unity. Whether it was the sounding of the trumpet, or the playing of bagpipes or a rousing song, music played and continues to play a vital part in binding people together in the face of uncertainty.
Jesus and his friends were celebrating the Passover meal together in an upper room in Jerusalem. As it drew to a close, Jesus gave the meal a whole new meaning, one which became the heart of Christian liturgy and focus of faith for the Early Church and down through the centuries to this present day. When we celebrate communion we use these words of Jesus unaltered from the time they were first uttered and they continue to transmit the same sense of empowering, mystery and wonder as they did on that first occasion as, through faith, we receive his body broken for us and his blood shed for us – his life into our life. For his friends on that evening, they were in the middle of an unfolding drama. The words he used did not make any sense to them then, but all of them must have sensed the heightened tension in the air, as if they were on the brink of momentous happenings over which they would have little or no control. Throughout the Passover meal it was the custom to sing the Hallel, a group of psalms (115 – 118) at different points. It was Psalm 118 that would have been sung at the end and it is likely that this is the one that this little group of friends sang.
Perhaps you might like to pause now and read this psalm as a group, keeping in mind the dynamics of those moments on that night.
In light of this, verse 26 of Mark 14 is mind blowing and heart rending in its deceptive simplicity: “Having sung a hymn they went out to the Mount of Olives.” Only Jesus would have been aware of what was looming ever nearer, but in a sense, he may, through the hymn, have been seeking to rally his ‘troops’, to instil courage and to create a sense, even then, of unity and purpose. This psalm is a song of hope. It recounts the horror and darkness faced, but hand in hand with that it speaks of ultimate victory – over fear, over the power of evil, over death. And the refrain of trust running through it is “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.” Jesus went out to face the anguish of Gethsemane, arrest, trial and crucifixion. His little ‘army’ was routed, and all seemed at an end. The Shepherd is struck and the sheep are scattered. But he is able to say to them prior to the darkness descending in full force, “After I am raised from the dead I will go ahead of you to Galilee and meet you there.” He flings the affirmation of hope against the onslaught of horror. This is not the end! The stone that the builders rejected becomes the cornerstone.
Afterwards they would remember. In the strength of the resurrection and the empowering of the Spirit they became an active army the world over, armed with their alleluia of good news for all of humankind and even when facing the extremities of hardship, were still able to sing their song of hope. And so have countless pilgrims down through the ages, following in their footsteps, most of them unheralded but, without whom, we may never have been awakened to the wide open spaces of God’s love and mercy.
So perhaps this Eastertide, we can listen afresh for the music that calls us, encourages us and creates in us a sense of unity and purpose as, armed with love, we face an increasingly uncertain world with hope, with an alleluia in our hearts and a song of praise on our lips. “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.”
For reflection
In the uncertainties of these days, what is your song?
Given what was happening on Holy Thursday and what was about to take place on Good Friday, what stands out for you from Psalm 118?
APRIL CHOOSING THE SONG
Philippians 2: 1-11
Perhaps the biggest gift God gave us when he brought us into being, the gift that makes us human, is the ability and the freedom to choose, including the freedom to choose not to choose him which is an amazing gift of unconditional love. And even when all other freedoms have been taken away there is one that still remains, namely the freedom to choose how we react. You could call it our attitude.
In 61 AD Paul, under house arrest in Rome, not knowing whether he would be released or executed, wrote a letter to the Church at Philippi, that same group of believers whom we encountered earlier in these Guidelines. He is seeking to encourage them in their life together as a still fledgling Christian community, indicating how they should relate to each other. A lot of this hinges around attitude. As he begins to spell this out, he finds, as always, that the best way to do this is to point to Jesus. And so he turns to what would have been well known words, part of the worship of the early Church. Everyone would have recognised them as a hymn they would often sing together. They contain the essence of the Christian message, a bit like a very early confession of faith. Paul prefaces this hymn by saying. “You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.” And then he moves into the familiar and beloved words, “Though he was God he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead he emptied himself, he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God, and died a criminal’s death on a cross. Therefore God raised him to the place of highest honour and gave him the name above all other names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.”
Viktor Frankl writing in Man’s Search for Meaning which he wrote after surviving the horrors of Auschwitz says that what he and his fellow prisoners needed in order to survive was a fundamental change in attitude towards life, that it did not really matter what they expected from life but what life expected from them. And at one point he makes the hugely liberating observation that between a stimulus and a response there is a pause or space. In that space lies our ability or freedom to choose; and in our choice lies our growth and our freedom.
Although Paul was never released and, in fact, was later executed, he, like Frankl, had learned this lesson which led him to a deep contentment, no matter what the situation. He modelled himself on Jesus and, in so doing, he encourages us to become who we really are in Christ. In this our attitude is crucial. He urges us to turn again and again to the person of Jesus whose attitude was characterised by a letting go, by deliberately choosing humility and obedience out of an infinite unconditional love. He became like a slave. For him, it was a beloved captivity that would lead to the offer of growth and freedom for all of humankind forever.
So whenever we feel powerless especially in the face of events too big for us to influence, whenever we feel devoid of hope, perhaps it would be good to remember the one freedom no one can take away, that freedom to choose how we react in any situation. I have the feeling that if we consciously waited for a moment in that space between stimulus and response instead of instantly reacting, we might find our attitudes changing. We might discover our song of hope returning and, in little ways, often unknown to us, we would be contributing to peace and a resurrection of hope in our families, our communities, our world.
And, you know, it’s good to practise, to choose the ‘song’ we’re going to sing. In fact, in his letter, Paul urges us to do so!
For reflection
What do you make of Viktor Frankl’s statement about stimulus and response?
If attitudes are about hearts and minds, and if these can be changed through the building of relationships, how has Faith and Friendship helped change your attitudes?
As you draw this gathering to a close, could you say together this early ‘hymn’ of the church from Paul’s letter to the Philippians found earlier in this reflection?
MAY A SONG OF RESTORATION
Psalm 23
David’s whole life was a song, sometimes a lament, sometimes dark and brooding, laced with anger and frustration, sometimes penitent but always with the refrain running through each one of the steadfast unfailing love of God. This is nowhere better stated and beloved than in the Shepherd’s Psalm, known throughout the millennia, a song bringing confidence and assurance even in the dark valley of death, even when surrounded by enemies. In fact if people know very little else from Scripture, they will recognise this. I like to think that this was David’s very favourite song also. It arose from the depths of his being, from memories called forth from the days out on the hillside tending his father’s sheep before he picked up the calling that would involve so much risk and danger, so much trusting in the face of adversity and of hope deferred. He knew well the calling of a shepherd and what it required in terms of care and vigilance and protection. And if a shepherd demonstrated that sort of love, prepared to give his life for his flock, how much more would God, the Good Shepherd care for his people.
It was actually this psalm that gave us the name for Restoration Ministries, from the line ‘He restores my soul.’ Over 37 years we have been committed to healing, reconciliation and peace-making through seeking to be a catalyst for the restoration of relationships between ourselves and God, ourselves and our own inner beings, ourselves and the other. Each of the phrases in this song of David has, however stumblingly, been lived out by us at one point or another throughout all the years. We have sought to do this through hospitality, listening, building relationships, encouraging people on their own inner journey, being with them in times of sorrow and heartache and through praying. Perhaps more than ever in today’s world it is about helping people find that place of deep rest within where they know themselves loved, accepted and blessed, pursued through this life and beyond by goodness and unfailing love. There are so many enemies, overt and hidden, ready to attack in both subtle and blatant ways striking at the fabric of society, at values we once held dear, at the seemingly defenceless and vulnerable in our world. They seek to rob people of hope. David, knowing what it was like to be a fugitive always on the run, having his reputation destroyed, avoiding murderous attempts on his life, sings out his song of confidence in these words, “You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies. You welcome me as an honoured guest anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings.” In the ancient near East, if someone was fleeing from an enemy and came across a desert encampment, it was incumbent on the host to shelter him and treat him as an honoured guest. The enemy could be surrounding the camp, even watching their quarry feasting, but so long as he was a guest of the camp, they could not touch him. Often stripped of everything, this experience was familiar to David and he could see in this hospitality of the desert offered to all those fleeing from trouble something of the boundless hospitality of God and the invitation always to come, to find shelter with and in him and, in so doing to let the broken places sing.
Because we feel we know this song inside out, we can come to it with the familiarity that obscures its wonder and the hope that is embedded in every line. It is truly a song of restoration, both the promise and the fulfilment. There are six verses in this psalm, each one vibrant with assurance. It might be a good idea to take one verse each day for the next week and wait in the stillness to hear what it is saying to you in your life at this time. If each of us did that faithfully, I guarantee that by the time we reach verse 6 “Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever” we will find ourselves more positive, more hopeful and more grateful to the God in whom we have everything we need.
For reflection
Which verse of this wonderful song speaks to you most directly at this point in time?
Instead of us searching, sometimes desperately, for God, in this psalm we are told that God who is Love is actively pursuing us. What difference does such an insight make to you?
JUNE THE LIGHT BEARERS’ SONG
Ephesians 5: 8-14
We have journeyed quite a distance on our pilgrimage of hope throughout this year together as Faith and Friendship, haven’t we? What songs have we been singing, I wonder? Which one had the sweetest melody for you? Perhaps it will be this one!
There is a sense in which all the other ‘songs’ are gathered up in this fragment of an early Christian hymn. It is part of a hymn that was well known and most likely sung at baptismal liturgies or other gatherings of believers in those first heady, hopeful and dangerous days of this new movement that became known as Christianity. For the majority of those becoming part of the ‘People of the Way’, the name first given to these followers of Jesus, life was challenging to say the least. Any voice or group perceived as seeking to undermine the authority of the Empire was suspect and the threat of persecution a constant menacing shadow. They were also very much the minority in a world of other gods and strange, often occult practices. Add to that the much more subtle danger of varying motivations within their ranks from those whose expectations and motives did not sit easily with the way of life to which believers were called and it is easy to see how Paul would have had a burden for these fledgling groups. This particular letter was written from prison in Rome. It is thought it wasn’t destined for one particular place, but rather was a circular letter to all the churches in the whole region. As such, it is also a very direct and relevant letter to us, with the challenge coming clearly in this song: “Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead and Christ will give you light.” Paul is urging us to live as people of the light.
On one level the world we live in today would be unrecognisable to the people of the First Century AD. But on a deeper level the forces of darkness that either overtly or subtly continually strive to draw us back into ‘darkness’ are the same. We have looked at some of them throughout the past months. And nearly every day we can be bombarded by more. The answer is not to retreat, finding hiding places where we huddle in despair or seek to anaesthetize ourselves with ever increasing activity. Rather it is to pause and listen to this call to awaken. It is a call that is being heard increasingly from different parts of the world – a call coming to people of every faith and even to those who at first glance might appear to have none. It contains within it a golden thread of hope, the hope that we can live the future we long for in the now. It is a challenge to waken up from the deadness of two dimensional living to a deepening awareness that there is something more to this universe and to who we are and that God, whose very being is Love itself, is for us, not against us. This something more is something that has been and is always there, but throughout history we have tended to so institutionalise it and stifle it with regulations, boundaries, rules that it is something that has by and large become lifeless. It is not helping us to live these days with hope and courage. Of course we need the steadying power of creeds and institutions to live as community but when they are put in the place of God, then something begins to die. If we are people who believe in the beloved community of a Triune God, Father, Son and Holy spirit, then the summons to awaken, to rise from the death of what can often be half hearted assent could be irresistible! The hope that such a call carries is immeasurable and it is for everyone, not just for some. The promise is that as we begin to own it, then not only will the light of Christ shine on us but will also shine through us. We become light bearers. We spread good news not by preaching at people, or pronouncing judgement or from a position of seeming superiority. Rather, as the light of Christ shines more steadily through us, as we allow ourselves in humility, gratitude and love to continue on a pilgrimage of inner transformation, that, in turn, fans the light within to a flame. This flame brings hope and even joy to others as well as ourselves. In the unseen world that is closer than we think, the angels and saints rejoice and we can sing our song of hope that we really are an Easter people.
For reflection
Over the last thirty years, is there any way in which you see Faith and Friendship as a light bearer?
If so, how has this light shone in your community?
Where have you seen the golden thread of hope, the hope we long for so that we can live in the now?
Restoration Ministries 