This Charming Man

The last Safe Space session saw us gathered together to share stories, some half-remembered, others branded onto our spirits: all of the God-man who walked upon the Earth so many years ago.

We retold those encounters that resonated with us most, that we could imagine our way inside. Zacchaeus, climbing a tree in order to watch as Jesus passed by, elevating himself to a place where he could see and not be seen; yet made the centre of attention when called upon to host supper for a weary Messiah. The Samaritan woman at the well, drawing water for a man that should have rejected her, and indeed knew many reasons why he should; yet finding herself inside his grace. The centurion, another outsider by race and religion and part of the oppressing nation, yet having such kindness towards his servant and such faith in the ability of Christ to heal that Jesus smiled to see him. The haemorraging woman, who had withdrawn from human touch many years before lest she contaminate with her supposed uncleanliness; yet reaching out to touch the hem of the healer.

So many thought themselves unworthy - of salvation, of healing, of notice. So many tried to duck in under the radar. Time and again the story is of Jesus stopping to notice, and then to raise them up.

We also talked of the story of the nativity, imagining ourselves first as the shepherds and then as wise men. Two groups of people approaching and becoming aware of the person of Jesus through totally different routes - sudden revelation, versus slow intellectual journey. How do we see both at work within our own pilgrimages?

We then shared communion together. Sharing bread and wine is not a solitary experience; we come together, and in that togetherness we share our faith and our doubting. If faith feels like an uphill struggle we may find in the celebration of  God's feast a special solace, when all the words and the worries fall away and we are left with simple images of the love of God for us and between us. However, it may also provoke further anxieties: do I believe enough 'stuff'? Can I tick all the points of the creed? Am I worthy to receive, or am I letting the side down?

Our faith is personal, but it is also communal. In sharing bread and wine we demonstrate our connectedness. We become the face of Jesus for one another, sharing his life between us as we do. And in that act we celebrate the extraordinary love of this man who willingly gave his life, despite his sorrow and fear in Gethsemane; and despite his sense of loss and abandonment at Golgotha.

The Hesitant Eucharist

We approach

Quietly, softly, tiptoeing our way through familiar words

Or on our knees, fingers interlaced, knuckles white

Willing faith out from our tired hands.

We come, tripping over obstacles strewn in our way

Many of our making, some not:

Still we advance, inevitably, drawn

Towards the light that comprehends our darkness

But is not extinguished.

We open our mouths to speak: but what words

Would usher in your kingdom?

What words

Would excuse our meager offering,

Our comfortable grumblings?

Our pace slows

at this realization: that we have nothing to say,

nothing but the Nothing that throbs and aches

at our centre. We stop, and stand,

bowing our heads in frustration.

And you are there, waiting, as always:

The one who searches in the garden, whilst we

tried in vain to hide our naked forms.

The words that come are your words:

‘Why did you abandon me?’

and ‘take this suffering from me’…

We forgot, alone in grief, that the pain was first and foremost

yours to bear:

Yours to be alone, Yours to ache and grieve and mourn,

Yours the encounter with the Nothing that eats at human hearts.

You answered with hands that uncurled to be impaled

You approached with feet that bore the scars

You spoke the words of desolation

So now, we come.

Quietly, softly, tripping and stumbling; but we come,

Wanting to understand how the abandoned God

The God in human flesh, divorced from his sense of belonging

Desires to share with us his body and his blood.

TAW 2012