To Holyhead with love

It is a truism that you only recognise how brilliant something or someone is as you are about to move on. This is not true for me with Holyhead. It has always been a brilliant town, perched on the edge of Mon overlooking the Celtic Sea. I admit it took me a couple of week when I moved. I seem to remember the wind and rain were of Noahic flood proportions and I could barely see anything during that period.

Caergybi is the UK's second busiest port. It is cosmopolitan by North Wales standards. Its story rich and diverse, and people welcoming. 'Vicar' yelled a car driver narrowly missing running me over 'welcome to Holyhead!' just weeks after I had arrived.

It is Mon's largest town, but in reality is a collection of small villages living together in close proximity. It is a town where small businesses begin and thrive, and people long for the best to happen.

In terms of faith, it is at one and the same time the home of the UK's largest collection of Jedis according to the 2001 Census and a place of deep Celtic Christian heritage. Cybi the saint embedded within Caergbyi gave the town its overarching story and name (Cybi's fort - Caergybi). At one time, pilgrims came from all over the Christian world to see him. Holyhead has by and large forgotten this story... and hopefully the regeneration planned for St Cybi's will help it be told again.

It is a place that has given me a love for Wales, its language, land and people. I will miss it. Yet during this summer, I will enjoy it and remember it fondly as we part.

Pob bendith, Caergybi

There may be no left to come for

It is becoming a truism that voters apparently like the policies of the Labour Party, but apparently not its leader.

How could people not like the policies when they are designed to protect the most vulnerable and expect all to play their part in society?

Perhaps however what we have not quite factored in is that the most vulnerable have been made the other or scapegoat for society's ills. It has happened gradually, sometimes without us knowing. Parties of different political colours have let it happen, and we have, all too often, stood by on the other side.

The problem with making someone other is that perhaps ever so slowly a process of de-humanisation takes place. It is how fundamentally we get to the deserving and undeserving poor.

This is not a call to vote Labour. It is though a call to reflect on whether we want to be a society that embraces the other and puts the vulnerable at the centre as a matter of justice, in spite of the cost to ourselves.

Half a pace behind: Leading a service in Welsh

I have noticed that whenever I lead a service in Welsh, the act of worship takes a little longer. It is not that there are more pauses, but that I say the words more precisely. I might be tasting the words, perhaps savouring them, although practically I am slowing down so as not to make as many mistakes. I am half a pace behind where I would be using English.

One of the delights of coming to Wales has been the chance to get to grips with another language. I am not a linguist, although can read various ancient languages, which is a joy that comes from having been, prior to ordination, a NT research student and tutor.

There is something inevitably vulnerable about suddenly only having the linguistic capabilities of a young child. Initially, in one language, I might make a stab at talking theology, in the other; I could manage ‘lle dach chi’n byw?’ (Where do you live)? In one memorable moment, I realised I could pronounce iachawdwriaeth (salvation) and not ask for a pint. This has now been addressed.

Leading worship is though done from a place of weakness, vulnerability and openness. This is the more true when leading in a second language. I am not referring to the learning of words and correct pronunciation, which although important are perhaps not the most important facets for taking worship in a language other than your mother tongue. Whilst, not the most important; discipline and regular learning is essential. It is an incarnational thing.

Language is a gateway to another culture. Until that is appreciated, you cannot begin to learn another language. Whilst language learning can be simply a case of what does this mean in that language, which is an important building block, learning to speak a different language moves you into a different place. It is impossible to be unaffected by it. This is not a simple reference to the struggle to get to grips with mutations, or in my case the quiet panic of having to speak publicly and clearly at key moments of people’s lives.

 
In the process of learning, everything slows down. This is obvious, perhaps. I need to accept my limitations, for example, I might want to say something, which in English I could do with ease, but in Welsh, simpler ways need to be found in order to accommodate my limitations. Moreover, as time goes by, it is not just my limitations that are exposed, but what I might want to say in my mother tongue cannot be said in Welsh. Direct translation therefore becomes stilted at times. Thus, in the learning, I must make time not just to memorise new words, but begin to hear the spiritual rhythm of the language itself. Perhaps in a sense you do not learn a language without living it.

Witnessing. But to whom?

On Good Friday, I took part in the Caergybi CYTUN Walk of Witness from St Mary's RC Church to the Millennium Cross in town. The walk is done in silence, and at the cross there is a short bilingual service consisting of hymns, readings and prayers, and this year for the first time a Bible story told by the Open the Book team.

In Holyhead, this is a positive event on a number of levels, not least because churches and chapels, Welsh and English come together and are seen to do so publicly. Division between church and chapel and across language divide is well known within Wales, and to do something together publicly is a dramatic statement. 

The walk (no more than 10 minutes long) follows a wooden cross and a banner bearing the CYTUN logo. It is the only public act of witness that we do together. There are other events and activities members of CYTUN get up to throughout the year, not least the support of the Foodbank under the banner of the Trussell Trust. 

As we pass up the high street, those watching tend to fall silent. Some know what is happening and others clearly seem not to. 'What is going on?', one middle aged woman said to another, with the response, 'I think it is something religious'. Clearly the answer to that observation is 'yes', 'no', 'but' and quite possibly 'and'. The events of the first Good Friday cannot be described as a religious event. Indeed the unjust execution of an innocent human being is not at all comfortable. 

There is no sense that we are claiming any particular ground or public space. We are offering worship, remembering, bearing witness to our faith under the town's Millennium Cross, erected by the Town Council to commemorate the Millennium.

Christianity has shaped Holyhead. The story of Cybi, the celtic monk who was gifted the Roman fort in the middle of the six century, has given the town its name, Caergybi: Cybi's fort. There are images of Cybi on public display throughout the town. Whilst, many many have long since forgotten that this place on the edge of Anglesey was a significant place of pilgrimage, and at one stage with the presence of a number of so many celtic saints in the vicinity, it is highly likely that the town was known as Holyhead. Indeed, those tasked with increasing tourism to the area, have made much of the fact that the area is Ynys Cybi (Cybi's Island - there he is again) or Holy Island. One might therefore suppose that faith groups are welcome to witness openly in the public sphere without it being seen necessarily as trying to dominate. Unlike many areas of the British Isles, particularly the urban conurbations, Holyhead does not have much of a faith mix. There is a mosque in a house and we do have according to census figures more than our share of Jedi knights (here is me attempting some cultural relevance)

 The key thing then for us is not about cultural appropriateness, but whether we witness in a manner that is understandable and indeed whether anyone is actually watching. Or whether there is just something good about Welsh and English speaking Christians from churches and chapels retelling our story and reminding the town of its own story, especially as it wants to use the story to shape its own future.

I am sure there will be more later.

 

Easter Day/Sul y Pasg

Alive

The resurrected Jesus is none of other than our Lord and God demanding loyalty, offering freedom, allowing obedience and giving grace.

 
Yn gynnar yn y bore, aeth Mary Magdalene a’r Mary arall at y bedd. Pam oedden nhw’n fynd? 

Yr Efengyl yn deud i edrych ar y bedd. Roedd Iesu wedi marw. Roeddent yn disgwyl i weld dim ond y carreg o flaen y bedd. 

Oedd Duw yn gweithio. 

Pan nad oedd ganddynt unrhyw obaith, gweithiodd Duw yn Iesu Dyna stori Pasg.

Duw yn siarad 

Dywedodd yr angel “Dw i'n gwybod eich bod chi'n edrych am Iesu, yr un gafodd ei groeshoelio. 6 Dydy o ddim yma; mae wedi dod yn ôl yn fyw! Dyna'n union beth ddwedodd fyddai'n digwydd. Dewch yma i weld lle bu'n gorwedd”. 

Oedd Duw yn gweithio 

Nid oes unrhyw un yn disgwyl i Dduw weithio mewn gwirionedd. 

Roeddent wedi bod gyda Iesu ac wedi clywed y straeon sanctaidd, ond yn wynebu digwyddiadau Gwener y Groglith, mae popeth wedi newid. 

Mae Pasg yn newid popeth ac yn ein chalonogi i beidio ofni

Biblical Text – Mark 16:1-8

When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. ² And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. ³ And they were saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?” ⁴ And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back— it was very large. ⁵ And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were alarmed. ⁶ And he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. ⁷ But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” ⁸ And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid

Questions

1.    He has risen, he is not here. How do you respond to such a statement?

2.    What is the most exciting thing about the story of Easter for you?

3.    What have you learnt this week during our journey to Easter Day? Give thanks to God for it and all that others have learnt too.

Reflection for Easter Day

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Holy Saturday: Lazarus

I spluttered once, and then twice. The dryness of my throat was apparent, and then the stench. Stench? Stench of what? Where am I as my eyes moistened and adjusted. I am dry. It is dark, as I feel for the first time clothing bandaged around me. But what is it. I remember my sisters wrapping me in linen when we children. But where I am I now? It stinks… and I remember. Is this it? Darkness, but wait resonating I hear a voice. ‘Lazarus’. Lazarus – that is me. I am being called. I see a chink of light. ‘Come out – the voice calls. It is him – Jesus. I struggle to move; what are these things. I hobble towards the light. Slowly, my legs are bandaged – and weak; they seem like I have not used them for ages. ‘Lazarus, Come out!’ My ears seem to retune to the call. I have been unwell. Is this dying? I struggle towards the light. A hand touches my own and pulls me further into the light.

My eyes blink and blink again at the brightness, and I find myself staring into his eyes. It is Jesus. His eyes look like they are on fire. He smiles and laughs. ‘Untie him’ – he commands.

Untie me? I begin to remember. Mary and Martha fall upon me. I am not as strong as I was, as the three of us tumble on to the floor as if we were children. Jesus lifts me up. ‘Thank you’. He smiles back at me with a smile that suggests that he had done something easy, as if a greater battle lies ahead.

                                                                        © Kevin Ellis

Lazarus was the brother of Mary and Martha. He was one of Jesus’ close friends. After an illness, he died, and Jesus raised him to life. It was this miracle that secured Jesus’ fate. By tradition, Lazarus became bishop of Kittim in Cyprus.

Lazarus cannot though be separated from his sisters Mary and Martha. They are a family group who together are friends of Jesus and his disciples. It is their home in Bethany that is the base for Jesus during the final week of his life.

Lazarus’s sisters, Mary and Martha, like their brother, are also attracted to Jesus. Earlier in the Fourth Gospel, whilst Jesus is teaching, Mary sits and listens; whilst Martha scurries about preparing food. She asks Jesus to rebuke her sister for not helping, but is told firmly that Mary has chosen a better way.

Yet, when Lazarus dies, it is Martha who comes to Jesus immediately when Jesus arrives – and it is upon the lips of Martha that the great declaration of faith is put

This is what I have come to believe: that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one who is to come into the world.

You will remember that in the Synoptic Gospels, the great confession of faith is put on the lips of Peter. In the Fourth Gospel, it is on the lips of Martha, a woman.

Mary, who had sat at the feet of Jesus, has to be invited to come and see Jesus. It is Martha who guides Jesus to her brother’s tomb.

Before Passover, Jesus was back at their house, and Mary pours expensive ointment over Jesus, preparing him (he suggests) for burial.

This is not at all to suggest that one woman’s faith was stronger than the others; it is just that they, like us, were complex human beings.

How many of us do not doubt the truth of Easter at certain times?

Biblical Text – John 11

³ When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ ⁴⁴ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’

Questions

1.    One of the themes of this story is friendship. I wonder when the last time was that you sat and prayed for your friends and that they would have a closer relationship with Jesus.

2.    Why was it that Jesus waited to go to Lazarus? It is a question asked by both of his sisters.

Reflection for Holy Saturday

Bitter pain, searing loss

divine abandonment, mother’s tears

mocking soldiers, cruel crown

battered body, beyond the lament

gathered together; in one place

together in silent defiant space

silence demands its sacred pause

the stillness does not wait

we need not pretend it does

lest all is forgotten as the breath comes again