call – Notes from Bambi

Geese

Dear Benedict

This is called ‘Ordinary time’ but then time is itself ordinary. Now we call it Creation Time, although I’m not sure how much time we have for creation, or how much time creation has left for that matter.

I read about a creature from the deepest ocean, found by an exploration team, one never before seen by humans. It was bought up out of the depths and put in a jar. Dead of course. What if it was the only one?

In ordinary time in your Rule, the early morning worship gets a whole chapter 13 to itself. It’s proceeded by chapter 12 which is for Sundays. This morning I lay in bed and listened to the geese again. They flew past my window and made themselves known in their distinctive way, their calls sounding up and down the valley. They don’t know any numbered psalms, just their own. I’m not sure what an Ambrosian Hymn is (sounds like custard) but if it means sweet and musical every bird I know has a version.

A group of wildlife watchers in the valley, message each other daily on the progress of creatures great and small, sometimes a rare one, sometimes a well ordered flock, sometimes good news, sometimes not so good. They keep alert.

The sun rises and sets, and the valley continues to be the holy space it is.

This morning my copy of your Rule fell apart when I picked it up. I’m not yet sure if this is a good sign or just carelessness.

For now I’ll listen to the geese.

From my remembered bible: Look at the birds…..

Your call comes with the birds. I am glad.

From a friend of Scholastica in Longdendale, 10th September 2023

Rank

Dear Benedict,

I’m looking out on another wet windy day in the valley. Although Storm Eunice has now blown through the trees are still tossing about and everything seems restless, finding it hard to resettle to their place in the world.

Some words change their meaning or emphasis and the idea of rank from chapter 63 of your Rule is like this. To you it just meant who had arrived first, who had been in the community the longest. The rank was just the number assigned from the first to the last. Its meaning has changed to be one of superiority or greater authority. A person has greater rank when they are given authority over others, regardless of when they arrived on the scene. It does seem to be a pervasive aspect of organisations: who is boss counts. Although the other meaning, the one you used, is not without problems, and can be used by early arrivals to stall or stymie change or progress in a community.

Rank: the rings indicate the number of years in the life of a tree.

As far as the trees are concerned, storms can change rank. Some of the oldest, biggest, most precious trees can find themselves felled. Neither gone nor forgotten, they have started on their ‘nurse log’ phase by which they begin to rot back into the earth, providing nutrients and refuge for many species in the process. They make it look easy, just lying their rotting, but for human beings the change in circumstances which come with different phases in our lives can be difficult. The urge to ‘pull rank’ can be hard to overcome.

Pulling rank: my fungus is bigger than yours!

Communities change and evolve as new responsibilities are shared out. We discover new skills in others and take on new roles ourselves. At some point we may embrace the challenge of the nurse log, sheltering and nourishing others as we decline and decay. It’s a noble calling.

From my remembered gospel: The first shall be last and the last shall be first.

May I rot creatively.

From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.

Voting for change

Dear Benedict,

The world keeps on changing. In 1984 when I first visited South Africa, I could not have known that it would be the last decade for Apartheid, or that I’d be back in 1994 to see the first democratic elections take place. I mention it because Archbishop Desmond Tutu has died, aged 90.

I might have mentioned before that I’m not very good with the great men and that I find the leadership sections of your Rule problematic at times. It’s always good to celebrate an exception. The Arch, as he was called, was one of those rare exceptions for me, and he seems relevant to the rest of chapter 64 of your Rule.

A monument to world leaders made of recycled material for COP26, in Stockport.

When I arrived in south Africa in 1984 all I knew about Apartheid was that we didn’t eat their apples. By the time I left a month later I’d learnt a whole lot more. I’d read about Black Liberation Theology, I’d seen the signs of racial segregation all around me and I’d heard about Desmond Tutu. I was to continue my education both in South Africa and the UK for the next ten years at least. I read the Kairos Document, I listened to people of all races and eventually I went back and learnt about contextual bible study (CBS) at the University of Kwa Zulu Natal in 1994.

One of the books I read in South Africa in the 1980s

These things became foundations for my ministry. Later I followed the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In all of this the face of Tutu was often seen weeping or laughing and much in between. The world recognised him for the ‘goodness in life and wisdom in teaching’ that chapter 64 of your Rule recommends in a leader.

Not every leader can be a Tutu, but to aim for ‘love not fear’ seems to be the bottom line.

From my Remembered Tutu: ‘Every human person is a stand in for God’ (Desmond Tutu).

Go well, Arch.

From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.

Inside out

Dear Benedict

You’ll not be familiar with social media, a way to chat with people world wide at the click of a button without meeting them. It receives a mixed press these days but I do it, although I only use the one account in one form. This morning it was revealed to me by one of my correspondents that they have two different accounts. It made me smile.

I love my Twitter correspondent who has helped me a great deal, but we’ve never met. Such are the ways of much social media. If I was surprised at the alter ego they had also adopted then I know better than to comment but it did give me cause to think about chapter 67 of your Rule.

A few years ago bought an old campervan called Bambi. Aged 34 she has travelled 57,000 miles in her lifetime. I rededicated her as the Mobile Chapel of St Scholastica and took her on my Lay Benedictine travels. Yet chapter 67 is all about not going out.

Well that’s the main difference between monastics and Lay Benedictines. Being a Lay Benedictine you live inside out. I suspect there are many out there who don’t know they know a Lay Benedictine, a bit like having two social media accounts. And I’d have to say that it’s usually Bambi who attracts more attention rather than ‘What’s a Lay Benedictine?’

A Lay Benedictine is an enthusiast who would like to introduce more people to the inside-out life. Those who use social media often use it as a platform to share their views on life the universe and everything. There’s Anglican Twitter (I follow a few though I’m no Anglican) and Fungi Twitter (I’ve learnt a lot from them too). But most people just want to admire my van.

Perhaps this is why you didn’t want your monastics talking about what happened outside. You thought they’d be attracted to the outside life again. Me, I can’t get enough of it. Partly because I think it’s the life for me. I don’t mean night clubs and stuff, of motor shows, or concerts. All very nice in their way I’m sure. I mean the slow old routes from county to county, joining up the dots across Britain, where I am distracted by trees, fungi and other wild things.

So if you see an old Bambi out on the road, remember to give us a toot! We’ll be trying to live the inside-out life somewhere in Britain. Meanwhile we might meet on social media.

A traditional prayer: May the road rise to meet you.

From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict. @Bambigoesforth

A Dancing Day?

Today’s letter is to Mother Julian of Norwich, the first woman to write a book in English that has survived, from the 14th century.

Dear Mother Julian,

I imagine you missed them. How could you not? If the Black Death was anything like we understand it, then it was horrendous and to lose you family to it, dreadful. Other plagues would come and go. I’ve visited Eyam, for example, where there was plague in 1665, and seen the place where one woman buried her whole family, one after another. It’s here: https://historicengland.org.uk/services-skills/education/educational-images/riley-graves-riley-lane-eyam-6974

I often think of you in that simple space, made holy by your constant prayer. A quiet and austere stone cell, I have my own aluminium equivalent, but I also have the choice to open the doors, be inside or out.

Inside the Mobile Chapel of St Scholastica, Bambi.

I wonder what took you there, as I listen to contemporary stories of loss and grief, anxiety and sadness, of the missing and the missed, the lonely and the alone: was it like that for you?

Or did the stones seem warm and welcoming, resonant and reflective as you readily embraced this lone existence? Time to think, to remember, to grieve, to renew, to celebrate; we all need such times and places.

I first read your book about 40 years ago. It astonished me. It confirmed me as a woman of faith in ways some other word didn’t do. I could stretch out my hand to you over the centuries and see you open yours and show me the hazelnut; simple but significant. A woman, on her own, was enough, to be able to see God and say so.

I am not alone, not like you were. I flit back and forth, connected in different ways, by sight, by internet, by memory. But I still hugely value your insights and your persistence. As I dig down into the earth of faith, I am pleased to echo with you that ‘We shall not be overcome’ and ‘All Shall Be Well’.

From the remembered bible: Pray at all times.

In response to the call of Christ, I seek to live holy communion, create holy space and offer holy service. (Prayer of the Lay Community of St Benedict http://www.laybenedictines.org/)

From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.