I
A large red-brick former convent -
once belonging to the Servants of Christ -
sits behind a modest plastered farmhouse,
which is Georgian in style.
It is the large house, itself Edwardian
Arts and Crafts in style, - although the two
buildings are connected, linked –
to which we come.
Fringed with foliage and wild flowers
standing spectacularly
tall and colourful, varied in hue.
Lawns – one with a labyrinth in bricks
laid into the ground, another with
a large wooden inscribed cross
in front of which numerous
groups of ordinands have stood,
together with bishops and retreat leaders,
prior to their ordination; I, being one such.
A house steeped in memories.
A house soaked in love and prayer.
A house of retreat. Retreat not being
defeat, but renewal, refreshment
and revival. We come to drink deeply
that we might live abundantly.
This place of memories containing
evidence of retreats past - sample, cross,
notebooks – speaks of doors pulled shut
for prayer; real communion
with God, such communion
as to make one more powerful
in intercession, such self-loss in him
as heals wounds by new contact
with life and love. Blessed be God
that he is God only
and is divinely like himself.
II
Let our lives run to Your embrace
and breathe the breath of Eternity.
O God Supreme! Teach us to be
more alert, humble, expectant
than we have been in the past:
ever ready to encounter You in quiet,
homely ways. So fill our imaginations
with pictures of Your love and
make us ready for adventure
knowing that beyond us
are the hills of God,
the snowfields of the Spirit,
the Other Kingdom.
May the threefold rhythm of adoration,
intercession and communion
in which the spiritual life consists
bring us into Your abiding presence
and peace, as we are closely united
with a world in torment.
As those who live very close to nature
become tuned to her rhythm,
and discern in solitary moments
all the movements of her secret life, or
as musicians distinguish each separate note
in a great symphony and
yet receive the music as a whole;
so may we be sensitised to every note
and cadence in the rich and intricate music
of common life. May we, through
our intercessions, stretch out
over an ever-wider area the filaments
of love, and receive and endure
in our own persons the anguish
of its sorrow, its helplessness,
its confusions, and its sin;
suffering again and again
the darkness of Gethsemane and the Cross
as the price of redemptive power.
Fulfil our sacred privilege to carry
that world and its sorrow with us,
and submit it in our prayer
to your redeeming action.
So, we cry, “Within Your wounds,
hide me!” for all who suffer and mourn
at this time. In every appeal
to our compassion, every act
of unselfish love which shows up
and humbles our imperfect love,
may we recognize you still
walking through the world.
‘Soothe our restlessness:
say to our hearts “Peace be still.”
Brood over us, within us,
Spirit of perfect peace, enfolded
in Your loving care. Blessed be God
that she is God only
and is divinely like herself.
III
The Archdeacon bows before the altar,
the ending of a Eucharist
that concludes our short retreat
as Area Deans at Pleshey.
A blaze of colour and fire of movement
on the altar frontal animates this
simple, calm and holy space that
resonates and reverberates with
memories of training retreats,
preparations for ordinations
and cell group support in ministry.
I am here to the glory of God
says the plaque in memory of
Friend of Pleshey, Evelyn Underhill.
You are the salt of the earth,
the light of the world, says Jesus
in our Gospel reading.
We are to bring out the different
flavours in our communities
and illuminate the good
that is hidden and under-appreciated.
As Evelyn Underhill once said
God is always coming to you.
So, gather yourself up and give
your complete loving attention
to something outside of yourself.
Meet and greet and receive them
with gratitude. Blessed be God
that they are God only
and are divinely like themself.
