Tag: bible

pilgrimage, Spirituality

Walking with Werburgh 4

Dr. Jennifer Fox Eades

My Franciscan Third Order book Lentscapes, https://www.spiritoffrancis.com/lent/ uses the clarity and light of Antartica to reflect on the honesty and the exposure of Holy Week.

By contrast, my Werburgh walk today, over the hills near Macclesfield, was misty and dank – weather Macclesfield does particularly well. And the fog meant I could not see clearly at all.

But perhaps that’s not an inappropriate landscape or weatherscape for the Tuesday of Holy Week either – or for the muddle and confusion of so much of human existence, for that sense of seeking what we can’t quite see, struggling to understand what we can’t quite grasp, for the sense of not knowing and not understanding that often characterises the spiritual path.

And I found myself musing about ‘in groups’ and ‘out groups’ on my walk today, inspired in part by my breakfast reading of Ian Mobsby’s blog, Contemplative Christian. For the Monday of Holy Week Ian wrote about the generous outpouring of divine love represented by Mary, washing Jesus’ feet and annointing him for his death in John 12.1-11 https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2012%3A1-11&version=NIV

https://postsecularcontemplative.substack.com/p/monday-of-holy-week-radical-reconnection

The nature of that divine love is echoed by Jesus’ washing of his disciple’s feet in John 13 https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2013&version=NIV

This is not a love that guards against vulnerability, that seeks to hold onto status or even dignity. This is a Love, this is a God, who kneels at the feet of people who will betray and lie and seek to engage in violence. And who offers Love to them.

Because Jesus washes Judas’ feet, the person who will betray him to his death; Jesus washes Peter’s feet – the one who will run away and lie to save his own life; Jesus washes the feet of the friends who will abandon him. Perhaps there are other disciples there too, those the artists don’t include – perhaps Mary is there, with her sister, Martha. Perhaps Jesus’ mother is there. Perhaps he washes their feet too – the mists of time have obscured their presence if that was so.

But the point, for me, is that what we are doesn’t matter to whether God kneels before us or not – nor to an extent what we do. Nor does it matter which group we are a part of or NOT a part of – whether we are part of the ‘in group’ or the ‘out group’. God kneels and offers to wash our feet, pours love into a bowl and, if we consent, holds each foot tenderly and soothes away the dust and dirt of our lives, then dries each toe gently and puts our foot back down again.

And it can be hard to recieve, that kind of love. Peter, initially, resists – no Lord, you can’t possibly wash MY feet. And it’s hard to accept, too, that each human person, no matter what they have done or will do, is also offered the same Love, has God kneeling before them offering care, offering kindness.

Just this week I read a post by a (male) priest who was incensed that Sarah Mullalley, our new Archbishop of Canterbury, met with other women on the eve of her installation. He saw, in this gathering of women, evidence of witchcraft and feminism, both clearly meant as insults.

Quite apart from the ignorance this displays, of both witchcraft in it’s modern form and of feminism, I was struck by the fear in that post, the sense of impotent rage screaming about power taken away, status diminished. And yet God kneels in front of that fearful man and offers to wash his feet. And God asks me, as a follower of Jesus, the Christ, to do the same.

And that IS the challenge of Holy Week. To love as Christ loved, not condemning or cursing or hitting back in anger. But kneeling before my Judas, my Peter. And offering to wash their feet. That, for me, is what is exposed in my own soul by the clear light of God’s generous, transparent and universal love. My own reluctance to kneel before those who pour contempt on women, who would take away our hard won rights, and who belittle and mock out of their own fear, their own insecurities, their own littleness of spirit.

I fear such people. And God calls me to walk into and beyond the fear, whether I can see the way clear ahead -or whether the dank mist of Macclesfield obscures the view.

And God also calls me to let my feet be washed by Love that holds my fear – and those of such male priests – in gentle hands. For eternity.

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Praying Creatively with St Francis’ Canticle of the Creatures

Dr. Jennifer Fox Eades

Most high, omnipotent good Lord (Our Kindest Grandmother Adored), To you be creaseless praise outpoured, And blessing without measure. From you alone all creatures came, No-one is worthy you to name.

My Lord (God) be praised by Brother (Sister) Sun, Who through the skies his (her) course does run, And shines in brilliant splendour. With brightness he (she) does fill the day, And signifies your boundless sway.

My Lord (God) be praised by Sister Moon, And all the stars that with her soon Will point the glitt’ring heavens. Let wind and air and cloud and calm, And weathers all repeat the psalm.

By Sister Water then be blessed, Most humble, useful, precious, chaste. Be praised by Brother (Sister) Fire; Cheerful is he, (she) robust and bright, And strong to lighten all the night.

By Mother Earth my Lord be praised; Governed by you she has upraised What for our life is needful. Sustained by you though every hour, She brings forth fruit and herb and flower.

My Lord (God) be praised by those who prove In free forgiveness their love Nor shrink from tribulation. Happy, who peaceably endure; With you Lord  (Mother) their reward is sure.

By Death our Sister praised be, From whom no one alive can flee, Woe to the unprepared. But blessed be those who do your will And follow your commandments still.

Most High omnipotent good Lord (Our Kindest Grandmother adored) To you be ceaseless praise outpoured and blessing without measure. Let every creature thankful be And serve in great humility.

The Canticle of the Creatures is a hymn that St Francis wrote near the end of his life. It expresses his sense of the profound sacredness and inter-connectedness of all creation. I love it and sing a version of it more or less every day, and have done so for nearly 15 years. And I do so – creatively. I quite deliberately play with the words. Because, like most God-talk throughout history and round the world and in all traditions (and all faiths) it assumes that the Holy is male and exclusively names God as He.

Which, at this point in my life and my spiritual path, I find …..unhelpful.

So, generally, I change the genders of Brother Sun and Sister Water – sometimes they are Sister Sun and Brother Water. Playing with the genders gently challenges the stereotype that men are always strong and in control and women are always gentle and pure!

I play with the opening.  ‘Most High Omnipotent, good Lord’ becomes  ‘Our Kindest Grandmother Adored’. Someone once asked me which woman ‘imaged’ God for me and I knew at once that it was my beloved grandmother. For me, God is not an omnipotent, royal male (God isn’t female either, of course, God is all genders and none). So I lean on that powerful, personal image in my own praying of the Canticle. In the version above my own adaptations are in bold type. You can make your own!

But I sing this version of the canticle while I walk, or run or cycle in God’s good creation.

I began playing with prayer creatively as a young mother of three children. To carve out time alone was sometimes, frankly, impossible so I learned to pray – with my children. I committed prayers to heart so I wasn’t reliant on books and I would sing or say my prayers with them as I went about the work of the day.

It was a very practical decision.

Years later, I committed the Canticle of the Creatures to heart so that I could sing it on my daily run, and still fit in silent prayer before breakfast, caring for my family, working part-time, studying and helping to lead a church. Again, it was a very practical decision.

Now I have more time available I continue to pray creatively, playfully – and now it is a theological decision. And the version I sing is a theoological decision, too.

Humans, made in the image of a creator God are creative at their core. It is never a question of ‘are you creative?’ but ‘how are you creative?’ And I suspect that most, if not all, people of faith are creative in how they pray and when they pray and where they pray. Yes, there is tradition and that can be beautiful and wonderful. And then there is how we practice that tradition – which will change each time we pray because we pray as embodied creatures whose bodies and lives and environments are changing moment by moment.

I have always prayed creatively but if I am honest I have often felt slightly guilty for doing so. Am I praying ‘properly?’ I have asked myself and even, ‘is this allowed?’ 

Now, I have spent 15 years singing about the Spirit of God incarnate in Sister Sun and Brother Water, Mother Earth and our Grandmother God. I have spent 15 years letting the words of the Canticle sink into my bones with each step as I have run, walked or cycled on our Mother Earth.

And after 15 years I am learning to let go of the guilt and to enjoy my God-given creativity. I am learning to accept that I really am a woman made in image of our creative Mother or Father or Grandmother God – and to be thankful.

Questions for reflection

How are you creative?

Is there an activity in your life you don’t currently see as prayer that you could see as prayer? How might that activity change if you did?

Can you learn by heart – and play with – a part of the Canticle?

A version of this article first appeared in Issue 26 of Little Portion, The Magazine of the Third Order, Society of St Francis, Spring 2025.

My book, Embodying Prayer (2024) is published by Christian Alternative Books

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A woman of peace

Dr. Jennifer Fox Eades

This has been a week when the world has felt full of angry voices and violent actions. It is a week when those of us who work for peace and kindness and care in our world and in our church have been shocked anew by stories of violence and abuse.

It was a week when, bruised and bewildered by the news of my church’s shame, I wondered what on earth I could say to an assembly full of beautiful children and their equally beautiful hard working teachers.

And as I knelt, early on Wednesday morning, in front of an icon of St Clare, it shone in the light of my candle and I knew what I wanted to say. I knew how I wanted to be. So let me tell you her story……

“Clare was a woman of love, a person of prayer and a person of peace. And she always remembered that she followed Christ, the Prince of Peace.

But the times she lived in were not peaceful times. Men of war, men of violence, meant that life was often dangerous for ordinary women and children and men.

And a story is told about St Clare of how, one day, an army of violent men came to attack the little town of Assisi where Clare lived.

And instead of running away and instead of fighting back, St Clare remembered that she followed Christ, the Prince of Peace. And she went into her little church and brought out a  box. And in that box there was a small piece of the bread and a tiny drop of the wine that Christians eat and drink when they remember Christ, the Prince of Peace.

And Clare held that little box and she just stood – and remembered. She remembered all the women and men and children in the town of Assisi. And she remembered Christ, the Prince of Peace. And she remembered that the men of war she could see before her were also children of God.

And on that day, for some reason, the men of war turned back. Some people say they were scared of this little godly woman. I’m not so sure. I think that on that day they, too, remembered peace and remembered that they were children of God. And I think they chose – and it is always a choice, to stand and remember peace and love for themselves.”

So today, sisters and brothers, (and everyone, of any faith, who is reading this IS my sister and my brother) in the face of the violence and injustice and sheer nastiness that can happen in our world I invite you to stand – not to flee and not to fight – but simply to stand for peace, to stand for justice and love and kindness and compassion. And please remember that you – and everyone you meet today – is an infinitely precious child of God.

May She bless you and may She keep you and may She give you Peace.

Prayer, Spirituality, theology

Donkeys, nameless women and unnoticed gifts – thoughts for Holy Week

Dr. Jennifer Fox Eades

I love donkeys. I love the gentleness of their faces. I love the way they symbolise the humilty of God. I love the legends that surround them. I love the fact that they have a cross on their back – the story of God’s pain drawn in the fur of a donkey.

And on Sunday at St Oswald’s we had a visit from a donkey – from Barney the donkey, to be precise. And 40 excited children, 60 adults and one very excited curate got to encounter a living symbol of the humility of our God.

And earlier that morning, before the children and the donkey arrived and filled the church with joyful chaos, I had preached at a quieter service. And I preached on the story that starts off the Passion Liturgy – the nameless woman in Mark 14 who annoints Jesus’ head with perfume of nard.

And drawing on comments made by friends and colleagues in the week leading up to that sermon, I noticed how this woman gave Christ two precious gifts that are often overlooked. One was the gift of actually listening to him and believing him when he said he was going to die. Others around him, the high profile named characters in Mark’s gospel, James, Peter, John…they were in denial. Jesus said he was going to die and they said ‘not on our watch’ you don’t.

This woman looked and listened and saw a man going to his death. It is a gift to be seen. A gift to be heard. A gift to be understood. And it’s a gift she gave Our Lord.

And she annointed his hair with a whole bottle of nard. And when a friend said she had smelt a tiny bit of nard – and that it had filled a room with a clear, spicy, beautiful scent that lingered…I thought that Christ would still have been surrounded by that smell even while he hung on the cross. The memory of this unknown woman, her love and her understanding would have been with him on the cross. Another gift.

It is sometimes said that Christ was abandoned on the cross, to die all alone. I beg to differ. The smell of the nard was with him. His mother was with him. Mary Magdalene was with him. When people say ‘everyone’ ran away what they really mean is all the men ran away, all the important people ran away. Leaving the nameless ones, the unimportant women in the story and the unnamed Disciple whom Jesus loved, standing and waiting with him. Keeping Our Lord company. Giving him the gift of courage in not running away, the gift of waiting with him.

And by entering into the ancient story of Holy Week – whatever our beliefs or unbeliefs – even if only a tiny, tiny bit we join with the nameless ones, the unimportant ones who kept company with the God who rode a donkey. We give a tiny gift to the one who gives us everything.

May your Holy Week be blessed.