Category: 2022

Gill writes:

So it’s not a secret that I intersperse my heavy, ‘serious’ reading and film-watching with what I call ‘pink and fluffy’ books and films. In other words, narratives that are predictable, easy to watch/read and make you go ‘ahhh’ (instead of ‘arghhh’).

It’s thanks to Netflix’s ‘Love in the Villa’ that I happened upon this song – and consequently Marti West. And I can safely say that it was definitely the most memorable thing about the film. As soon as the track started up I hit the Shazam button, half expecting it to say Sufjan Stevens but no, instead there was a new artist for me to discover – Marti West, an Italian/British musician, with a warm yet ethereal quality to his work.

This is a track that I think fits perfectly for the last few days of Advent. It captures the ‘almost there’ sense of things. You’ve grasped something life-giving- but only just – with your fingertips. It’s so tentative and vulnerable that it could slip out of your hands in a moment if you’re not careful. You know that it’s the answer to your searching and you don’t want anything to scupper things.

Fear may get in the way and distract you

Fear, don’t you find me now
Don’t you make me blind no, no
Don’t you tie me down

Love is so close and tangible that you daren’t lose it.

And love, don’t you go so far
Don’t leave me in the cold no, no
Don’t keep me in the dark

We’re nearly there. Tired. Worn out. Drowsy. Slouching. Nearing Bethlehem. Yearning for light in our bones.

All along the road, give me light, give me light
I’m tired of being alone, every night, every night
Struck out, cold, in my fright, in my fright
I need it in my bones, give me light, give me light

Having faith can be so reassuring but maybe sometimes it tips into complacency. Keeping watch and being aware of where we are can be the key to glimpsing love in action.

Faith, don’t you close my eyes
When I don’t know where to go no, no
Don’t take me by surprise

Shame can be the ultimate barrier to welcoming ‘light in our bones.’

And shame, don’t you make a sound
Don’t you break me in no, no
Don’t you shake me down

We often talk about light and dark in Advent, but this year my thoughts throughout Advent have been more about warmth and cold.

Many churches and community spaces have created Warm Places because we have fiscal and social policies that offer no warmth; our border is a ‘cold front,’ yet behind it stand thousands of people offering a warm welcome; the cold cost of living challenges us to savour the smaller, simple pleasures in life and to value community and kinship.

So, for me, this song yearns for the warmth of love in our bones, free from fear and worry. And that’s my hope for everyone this Christmas. May you find warmth and love in the obvious and not-so-obvious places

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

(Charles Wesley)

Find out more about Marti West at https://www.martiwest.com/

Jane writes:

Today is White Ribbon day. White Ribbon is a campaign against male violence towards women, asking society to get involved and particularly asking for the voices of the good men around us to be raised in support – https://www.whiteribbon.org.uk/

It coincides this year with the World Cup, and so often male violence escalates if sporting teams fail miserably. The campaign then asks men to consider some of the things they can do to alleviate some of the pressure on women – both those they know and those they don’t – especially right now.

It’s so sad isn’t it, that such a day even has to exist, but we’re in that place where it does. Not just in this country but across the world – the oppression of women is everywhere. Denial of the right to education, the right to choose how to dress or wear their hair, the right to make decisions and choices about their health and welfare, the right to have the careers they choose, and even the right to have access to the beloved sports grounds that some take for granted.

Into this space then comes this lovely song of solidarity from While & Matthews. A song that says we have you in mind, we care and we want to hear your stories, a song that says you’re not on your own and that we have your backs.

As a woman of faith, I don’t always find scripture easy on the subject of women. Old and New Testament stories are full of oppression towards women, exploitation, and decisions by men about what they should do and how they should behave. Jesus was different, though even he was sometimes caught up in the rhetoric of the day and it took the odd argumentative woman to push back so that we could see more clearly the way of God.

Thankfully my own denomination has come a long way but there are some Christian men that profess to know best about the role of women in church life and beyond it. The language we use and the differences and distinctions we make which accidentally marginalize women are still around. If we need women to be less ‘at risk’ then what we say and do really matters.

Let’s sing this song of solidarity instead then, and if you get a chance today give the White Ribbon campaign a plug. No woman needs to feel threatened, abandoned or alone. No man (or woman) should stay silent in the face of violence towards women. No woman should be prevented from being all that God intended for them.

We will all walk together

Walk together along this road

You will rise up

Rise and hold the sky up and we’ll all

Hear your voices singing strong and singing high

If you want to know more about While & Matthews – you can do so here at https://www.whileandmatthews.com/

Nigel writes:

The other day, I woke up recalling the piece of music called “Gabriel’s Oboe”, the main theme for the 1986 film ‘The Mission’, with Robert de Niro, Jeremy Irons, and Liam Neeson. I then discovered that the following night there was a TV documentary about Ennio Morricone who composed the piece.

It’s such a beautiful piece of music. One that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand out, one that touches my soul and evokes deep emotional resonance. Resonances of joy, sadness, passion, service, sacrifice and, of course, mission. Indeed, I know from social media friends that others are similarly impacted by it and it’s a piece of music that has been used at both weddings and funerals as it so remarkably seems to suit both the hope and sadness of life.

If you’ve not heard it before, do take a listen to it.

Story of the film

The film itself tells the story of a Jesuit missionary going to South America to try to convert the natives. At times, the film is very brutal and highlights many of the ills of the colonial era. The main character, Father Gabriel, plays his oboe and this piece of music in an attempt to connect with the native population. The tune then continually re-appears through the film in various guises as the story unfolds.

From when I first saw it, it was a film that taught me so much about culture, power, violence, faith and sacrifice. Regular Friday Fix fans will know that the ‘Fix’ is meant to reflect on the lyrics of a piece of music and how they have connected life, spirituality, faith and our shared journeys. The trouble with my choice here, is that there are no lyrics for Gabriel’s Oboe. So, I’ve got special permission and am drawing on a couple of quotes from the film to reflect on the significance of this piece for me. I hope the purists are ok with that …

The first quote is:

“If might is right, then love has no place in the world. It may be so, it may be so. But I don’t have the strength to live in a world like that.”

With so much trauma, loss and violence currently going on in our world, I have often felt like this of late. I really don’t want to be here, going through all the stuff we are going through. Many days it feels like I don’t have the strength. Yet something gets me through the days; off to bed at night; and up early next morning. I don’t know if that’s my simple humanity and default survival instinct compelling me to carry on or something of God. I’ve certainly found myself increasingly drawing on the idea that each new morning brings new mercies, new grace, new opportunities, and the chance to make a difference in the world. So on I press…

The second quote is a brief conversation between two of the main characters.

“Rodrigo Mendoza: Father, I’ve come to ask you to bless me.
Father Gabriel: No. If you’re right, you’ll have God’s blessing. If you’re wrong, my blessing won’t mean anything.”

This idea has always spurred me on to doing whatever it is I’ve been doing at any one particular time. We don’t need the blessing of people, if God is behind what we are about. Sure, it’s nice to feel folks are on your side, but that often just satisfies the self and massages the ego. It might even be of more benefit to those giving the blessing than those receiving it and going about the mission and business!

I feel at a bit of a crossroads in life at the moment. There’s uncertainty, curiosity, and a little fragility. But I’m pressing into the hope of a better, peace-filled world and looking to join in with what (blessing and mission) God is up to.

Gill writes:

At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, we will remember them.

Remember who? On the first Armistice Day in 1919, it was to stop and remember those (younger men mainly) who didn’t come back from ‘The Great War.’

Little did people know that twenty years later they would be living through a second World War, and that Armistice Day – the 11th November – would evolve into today – Remembrance Day – when we stop to reflect and remember the impact that war has on us.

According to the Imperial War Museum, there are around 90,000 memorials across the country. Most of these will be the centrepoint for an act of remembrance today and this weekend. For some communities, the memorial is venerated – behind gates or closed off; for other communities, the memorial is accessible where people can sit and gather.

Sometimes, the memorial can (ironically) become a focus of conflict itself – like the one I found myself in the middle of as a town youth centre manager. Historically, generation after generation of young people in the town had gathered on the steps of the memorial, but it suddenly became an issue to a few older people in the town for some reason. There wasn’t any damage or disrespect happening but it became a heated topic in the town for a little while.

So I found myself at a Community Safety meeting one evening asking questions about the memorial – the sort of questions you can ask when ‘you’re not from around here.’ One question I asked was about the age of the men (because it was all men) inscribed on the plaques – so I pointed out that many were a similar age to the young people who gathered there now.

Then I asked about the names of the inscribed – many who shared a family name with the young people who gathered there now. All had lived and breathed in the town; some had even been a bit of trouble at times like their descendants.

That’s the thing that always strikes me about these memorials that many of us will gather around in the next day or so. That they are predominantly memorials to the young. Younger people from those towns and communities who didn’t return from the battlefield or who didn’t survive other acts of war, and so consequently will be ‘Forever Young.’

I’ve written before about the impact that my school exchange to West Germany (as it was then) had on me. Unlike my parents and grandparents, I didn’t experience the clouds of a World War; but I did experience the continual looming pressure of the Cold War. This was particularly tangible in the early-mid ’80s when Reagan and Chernenko had their fingers over the ‘button.’

Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while.

Heaven can wait, we’re only watching the skies.

Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

Are you going to drop the bomb or not?

Of course, they did not drop the bomb and here I am growing old gracefully. But it has to be said that growing up at that time meant (for me anyway) living life to the fullest and making the most of every moment. There was always an underlying sense that life could be taken away without warning and that we mere mortals had no control over it.

We don’t have the power but we never say never.

Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip.

The music’s for the sad man

The song takes us on a journey that the world didn’t take in the end but it still has a poignancy which acknowledges the consequences of war. Younger people who didn’t get to live out their life’s adventures. Younger people who would never hear their generation’s music or get to achieve their dreams.

So many adventures couldn’t happen today.

So many songs we forgot to play.

So many dreams swinging out of the blue.

We let them come true. 

Instead, they remain forever young.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: 

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

Jane writes:

I love the radio. I was brought up on it really, and there was always one in the bathroom or in the kitchen long before tellies got everywhere or the advent of the Bluetooth speaker!

On a recent family festival trip, I even campaigned for space in the v. tightly packed car, for my portable radio. I was, in fact, allowed to take it.

In recent days – travelling home from the cinema – it was the car radio that revealed this delight. New music that stops you in your tracks. (as it happens, it’s from a film soundtrack of something due to be released this Autumn and it may within itself be enough to prompt me to take a look.) It’s a voice, music and words combo that pulls you in.

The time

We had together

A time

When all things were better

All of those moments

May have gone too soon

They meant so much

There’s a lot of grief and loss around in my life at the moment and for many of us, over the last few years, that’s been a constant. Often you push on through and it is not until you get a chance to stop and properly look at what has happened to you and those around you, that you realise what you’re really missing. My experience is that it comes in waves and the weirdest or tiniest things set you off on a path of repeated grief and deep reflection.

I never knew

For only now

Can I truly see

How much that time with you

That time shaped me

So even though I was unaware

It can be someone who was dear to you but also someone who influenced you in your thinking or approach to life. An early advocate for you or a “single moment” influencer and their loss reveals how you were shaped by a person and your encounter with them. You may not have seen them for years, yet their influence remains strong.

The time

When all things were better

Will stay with me

For as long as I remember

So much I have done

Has withered away

But never these memories I cherish today

I think the memory is a wonderful thing, and even the little glimpses of those moments of joy, laughter and downright happiness can lift the soul. The shared working, the solidarity when the chips were down, the humour in the face of grave pain, the silly photo that speaks of a situation that comes back to you as clear as day, the very odd flash of something that happened. All to be cherished in recognition of something precious.

How could I have known

Just how strong they could be?

They changed my life

In ways I can’t believe

In those moments

We’ll stay forever

And so I thank you

For the time we had together

There is a deep sense of thanks that comes mixed in with all the other emotions. This is true of all things I guess. Death yes, but also divorce, estranged friendships, drifting relationships and brief encounters. They all build us into who we are. The precious snippets of time lead us to a new place and there is no embarrassment in holding onto them for their “forever value.”

I wonder then, in this moment, if all that was the kind of process that the early disciples had to draw on when writing about Jesus. Trying to articulate how he shaped them, the impact he had on them, the value of his wisdom, and the ongoing legacy of his teachings and spirit-filled existence. They could have kept quiet about him but instead, they used their precious time to galvanise a new group of followers that might keep his memory alive and connect us with God. What does that teach us today about ourselves and the value of story and memory, about times shared and those we wish we could relive?

Let’s be bold about who we are and who we value(d). Thankful for the time we had together.

You can find out more about the artist Giveon here https://www.giveonofficial.com/

Gill writes:

It appears, certainly amongst my friends, that October is perhaps the most favourite month of the year for many people. In the northern hemisphere, it signals the transition from summer to autumn; in the southern hemisphere, the days are getting longer as the summer inches closer.

October is a month when we notice more about the world around us – the changing temperatures, the warmth of the sun, the leaves clothing the trees, misty mornings, cool rain, and petrichor – that confident smell of the earth.

It’s a month of significance – Black History Month, Breast Cancer Awareness Month, World Blindness Awareness Month and World Menopause Month. There are Thanksgiving Days in Canada, St Lucia and Grenada. 15 countries celebrate their Independence Day including Nigeria, Tuvalu, Cuba and Croatia. The UK & Ireland has National Poetry Day (6th October) and Sweden has National Cinnamon Roll Day (4th October) – evidence perhaps that it’s no coincidence that the country is consistently in the Top 10 of the world’s happiest countries.

For U2, ‘October’ is an image and an ominous word. According to lead singer, Bono, in an interview in 1982, it was a response to where they felt the western world was at in the early 80’s. He saw the 1960’s as a time when things had been in full bloom. There was plenty – modern conveniences, disposable income for many, space exploration, and so on. And then the ’70s and the ’80s hit and it felt like it was a time after the harvest, the trees were stripped bare and things become easier to see. Bono said ‘We’ve finally realized, maybe we weren’t so smart after all, now that there’s millions of unemployed people, now that we’ve used the technology that we’ve been blessed with to build bombs for war machines. October is an ominous word.’

October
And the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear
What do I care?

This atmospheric song with few lyrics encourages me to hang on in there. Seasons may change, and things may happen that frustrate, anger and cause despair, but God goes on through it all – with us. Things may get even colder and darker as winter looms ahead but there is hope that spring will come. That light and new life lie ahead – and that this time shall pass.

It’s not often that we humans embrace change very willingly, but October seems to buck that trend. It seems we run to embrace the cooler days and the overt change of the season. In 24 days’ time, it’s unlikely that there will be any signs of summer left and we (in the northern hemisphere) will be creeping into shorter days and longer nights. This month will hold our hand as we edge towards winter, letting go as it hands us over to darker, colder November. And the best thing of all is God is with us.

October
And kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall
But you go on and on

U2, as you are probably aware, are still making music. You can find out more at https://www.u2.com/.

Jane writes:

I guess it was about 20 years ago when I first ventured out to see Starsailor at ‘The Winding Wheel’ in Chesterfield. Friends who know me well will have heard me say that I was full of apprehension for two reasons. The first – what if there were only ‘three of us and a cat’ and no one else liked them AAAAggggghhhhhh! Second – what if they (that’s the 3 or the cat) didn’t know the stuff and stood like statues without getting involved or singing along. All my worrying was in vain and the gig was electric and packed with everyone really invested in the band, the album and every song offered to us. Phew!

In recent days, I’ve been to a 20th Anniversary Tour for that same album by that same band (it’s a Covid-delayed bit of a thing), and if anything it was the same experience in glorious technicolour with Leeds Student Union full of very middle-aged folk singing like a choir. For a couple of hours, nothing else mattered.

Christ, I’m out of my mind

I need to be loved

What a plea from the 500 assembled folk and one that resonates around the world for people in all aspects of their existence.

The reply though is equally impactful:

As I turn to you and I say

Thank goodness for the good souls

That make life better

There is a huge sense that there are the good folk around us that make life better – the smiley ones, the extra-mile people, the door-openers, the Big Issue buyers, the shopping neighbours, the lift-givers. The list is endless and we are thankful for those little bits of love expressed by these encounters.

As I turn to you and I say

If it wasn’t for the good souls

Life would not matter

But there’s more. There are also the people who you can cling to, lean on and rest a while with. Those that see you. Those that listen between the words. Those that mean life is still worth living when you feel it isn’t. Deep and gentle committed love for the other.

The scripture writers tell us that there are two great commandments – to love God and love your neighbour as yourself. If you can be a good soul today for anyone, remember you can make life better and make life matter. Give it a try if you can. You may be answering the deepest need and the heartfelt prayer of another.

You can still get to love Starsailor and find out more about them here https://www.starsailorband.co.uk/

Jill writes:

I have hardly stopped singing (and dancing along to) this since I heard it. The uplifting beat of this song raises my spirits and makes me want to dance!

Jesca Hoop was brought up Mormon in America and has now settled in the UK.

She describes losing her family’s faith saying, “Now I feel free of it: I have faith in people”

We have all just been through a period of mourning for the Queen who many describe as the mother (or grandmother) of the nation. My own Mum died not long before the Queen, and all of this has set me thinking about what you ‘take in with your mother’s milk’.

For many of us in England much of what King Charles and his siblings took in from the Queen, through the cord almost, is also part of our communal history. The belief that we matter, that we are ‘rulers’, that we ‘know best’ and so on are (controversially perhaps) hard to get away from if we are born White and English.

“A fairy tale can tell no lie”

What, from our earliest days, is lie and what is truth?

How do we navigate the urge to become independent, while still being interdependent on so many other living things/people?

During these periods of mourning and remembrance, I have really valued thinking back through my earliest life and learning to value things I’d completely taken for granted. At the same time, I’ve valued the learning that I can let go, that nothing has to stay with me forever, that I will always have the upbringing I had but that it doesn’t need to be my whole future.

In an earlier stage of my life, there was a preacher who often said ‘I am coming more and more to believe…’ before he shared something that made us think.

Jesca Hoop sings ‘Came to believe…. To believe’…

Find out more about Jessica at https://www.jescahoop.com/