Empty handed

“Take nothing with you” Jesus command to those he sent out ahead of him. Empty. No resources. It seems madness, and something we very rarely, if ever, do. On any level. If we can help it, that is. Like the proverbial girl guide/scout, we go prepared. Instilled us from childhood. And then one day, circumstances tip us on our faces, and we are vulnerable. Dependent on others, and it isn’t a comfortable feeling. At least not for an independent person like me. Recently I found myself stranded in another country, with no passport, credit card, or means to keep body and soul together. Not a good place to be! If you don’t have a passport, you can’t fly, even within Europe, especially if you have no other means of identification. Thankfully for me, before they caught their plane, the friends travelling with me emptied their pockets, and gave me what spare cash they could. This enabled me (eventually) after an adrenaline fueled day, to get an emergency passport and another flight home, late that night. Just. I had to sit and count out my euros more than once to make sure I could commit to booking a flight, and several rail and bus tickets, and have enough to stump up for the passport. (€113) I did. But nothing left. I had to ask the British Consulate if they had an emergency fund that could give me a little money in order to eat and drink.
“Spare any change for a cup of tea?” the plaintive request from the person on the street, and now it was my turn. I would much rather not have asked, but I had been running from pillar to post, and I was hot and tired, and hungry. And there was nothing on the horizon for a very long time. It was a humbling and salutary experience, I won’t forget in a hurry. Walking around a large European city with a few euros in my pocket to my name, was another. My experience was temporary, and I was very conscious of that too. For others it is a daily reality.
There are many ways we can be thrown on others care. I have known what it is to be seriously ill, and so weak and incapacitated that I could do little or nothing for myself and had to ask for everything. Or wait for someone to notice. It was an equally humbling experience. But good for me. Allowed me to step in other’s shoes. It made me an infinitely more empathetic nurse, and I thought I was pretty tuned into patients needs before that. I am sure it will be a valuable experience in my future ministry as a priest.
I think Jesus knew that his disciples needed to go out with nothing. They didn’t go as ‘fixers’ or ‘providers’ or even the ones with all the ideas. They had to go out and learn to receive. They had to depend on God for everything, spiritual and temporal. They had to be beggars of a sort. No security back up plan. I don’t imagine it was comfortable, but it was a foundational learning curve for when they would later scatter across the world and turn it upside down. Empty handed. I remember a song by John Pantry many years ago. A song writer I once knew, said that song lyrics, devoid of music read like bad poetry, but I will quote the words anyway:

Empty handed.
That is how he wanted me.
He commanded,
I left my own plans at His feet,
’til I had nothing, nothing of my own,
But then He filled my life to overflowing.

Oh how I wanted to be godly.
Oh the things I planned that I would do for good.
But my life was so full with the plans of my own,
I couldn’t see the plans He had for me.

He lived among us, and never owned much,
And laid aside His life to do God’s will.
All we ever put in his hands
Was the cross He bore,
And the nails that tore.

Empty handed.
That is how He wanted me.
He commanded I left my own plans at his feet,
’til I had nothing, nothing of my own,
But then He filled my life to overflowing.

Sounds a bit like this?

Philippians 2:5 (MSG)
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.

Not much you can add to that. Nothing, in fact.

Taizé

High on the ‘Bucket List’, Taizé is a place that has called me most of my adult life. I haven’t been able, for a variety of reasons, to answer that call. Until now. God’s timing, however is always best, and this has been a timely visit. At the end of a long, busy summer that has been high on the ‘demand’ factor. Placements, essays, exams and overseas trips calling much from me and stretching me in many dimensions. Growing stuff, I wouldn’t be without, ( except the exam bit, perhaps) but God’s rhythms require balance. Retreat and rest, as well as service and growth.

Taizé is like a long hot soak in a scented bath. A gentle place. Gentle in pace and approach.  Room to unwind and relax in a restful, spiritual environment. A truly ecumenical centre, where the sharp boundaries and denominational divisions are deliberately blurred. A confluence of nations, people come week after week, from all over the world, predominately large numbers of young people. Language barriers are overcome with careful listening, love and laughter as lives are shared within the context of small groups.

The accent is on simplicity. In everything. Worship is both simple and profound. The pattern follows the rhythm of the Community, with morning, noon and evening prayer. Firmly God focused, the liturgy and music flows naturally and easily. Led by various of the monks, who occupy the central aisle of the church, disembodied voices, in a variety of languages, guide the prayer and song. There is little to get in the way, in this very ‘thin’ place. It is a very moving experience to worship with thousands of others from all over the globe- all sitting or kneeling together on the gently sloping floor. All pretensions, roles and higherarchies are left at the door. Child or bishop, are as one before God. When you are already on your knees, the only step to bow the spirit, is on your face.  Lighting is soft, with the dancing flames of a hundred or so candles gracing the chancel. You are bathed in God, in a wash of Love.

We were told the story of a young German atheist who came to Taizé out of curiosity. She could give you a thousand reasons why God simply could not exist. At the end of the week, however, she confessed to one of the brothers, ” I am beginning to have my doubts about that.”

Presence. Gentle and unassuming, and yet inescapable.  Brother Roger started the Community in the tiny village of Taizé, in France, during the Second World War, as a ‘mustard seed’ of Peace. An alternative to the craziness of war. Bringing people and nationalities together in reconciliation and understanding. His faithfully planted seed has become a spreading tree under whose branches the nations have gathered to find rest and discover God.

Spoons. All you need to eat with, at Taizé. Food is simple too, but wholesome and nourishing and a miracle of provision. Feeding thousands a day, in a well practised organisation of willing volunteers that has to be seen to be believed. Within minutes all are eating, from trays on their laps, spread out across the site. More than once I had a picture of a hillside in Galilee, and a carpenter from Nazareth, a couple of thousand years ago.  Shortly after, it is all cleared away and washed up, by yet more volunteers,  often singing, with their arms in buckets of suds.

Taizé is somewhere to bring others to. Young people in particular. Those of faith and none. It is a place you can take at many levels. Forget any ‘Taizé’ services you may have attended. Good or bad, they are very different from the real thing. One of the brothers described Taizé as ” a place to re-discover the joy of living, the joy and the love of God” .  I couldn’t agree more.

To find out more go to: http://www.taize.fr/en