It was lovely to welcome two couples and their families for their weddings in our parish during August. First, Abigail married Jamie at Holy Trinity, Hope church. The sun shone and they were able to have their photos taken on the churchyard’s iconic bridge, freshly painted for the occasion. They live in Montgomery, but the bride had a family connection to our church. They did not have far to go for their reception which was held in Hope Village Hall.Residents of Shelve, Megan and Gwyn married in All Saints church. We managed to squeeze nearly 70 people into the church which was decorated with beautiful flowers. After the service they had a reception in a marquee just down the road. Again, the weather was fine, so guests could enjoy the far-reaching views across to the Stiperstones.One hymn which we sang at both weddings was ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, and it certainly seemed appropriate for these happy occasions. Of course marriage is a very personal matter, but couples are married in public, surrounded by family and friends who make their own promises to support and encourage those getting married. For the congregations of both churches it is a real joint effort to prepare for weddings. Perhaps some of you were married locally, or have been to weddings here. If so, we’d love to hear your memories – perhaps they can be published here for everyone to enjoy.If you are interested in a wedding, a wedding blessing, or a renewal of wedding vows, in one of our churches, please do contact me. We would love to welcome you.Rev Fran Brealey, revfran@btinternet.com, 07982324760
Sunday is Mothering Sunday, or Mothers’ Day as it is usually called outside the church. Each of us will have our own responses to, and feelings about this day. It may be an opportunity to celebrate, or a day of sadness and regret. This past week saw the Feast of the Annunciation, when we recalled the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary, with the news that she was to give birth to Jesus. Mary has often been seen as the ideal mother, even though the Gospels suggest that the relationship between mother and son was not always straightforward. The lives of mothers, and of women generally are today very different to the way they have been through much of church history. We recognise that many mothers juggle employment and other responsibilities alongside looking after their children, and that fathers (and grandparents) often take their share of the work. We are indebted to those in playgroups, nurseries and schools who provide care for our children. One of my favourite pictures of Mary is in a medieval manuscript of about 1325 AD. Mary has handed over her son to a convenient angel, so she can wrestle with the devil! So, this weekend I will be giving thanks for mothers, and for all those women who in different ways stand up bravely for the truth. Rev Fran
By the time you read this our Christmas celebrations will probably seem a long time ago, especially as the shops have been selling Cadbury’s creme eggs for weeks already! The beginning of February marks the feast of Candlemas, celebrated in England since the 8th century. It commemorates the visit of Mary and Joseph to the temple with the baby Jesus. They were greeted there by the elderly Simeon and Anna, who blessed the child, and spoke both of the light he would bring to the world, and also of the suffering through which that light would come. The name Candlemas refers to the custom, first recorded in Anglo-Saxon times, of people carrying candles into the church to be blessed, and then carrying them out to light their homes during the year. We will be doing the same at our service at All Saints, Shelve on February 2nd. Candlemas falls halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. The days are getting longer, the light is getting stronger, and the spring flowers are starting to appear in the hedgerows. In our part of the world at least, this moment of turning from winter towards spring mirrors the story of Simeon and Anna, with its contrasts between old age and youth, between birth and death, and between darkness and light. At Candlemas, even as we prepare to welcome the light of spring, we hear the promise that our salvation will come through the suffering of Jesus, and we turn from the crib towards the cross. Lent will soon be here. But the darkness is not yet defeated, and we carry our candles to light our way. Candlemas reminds us that Christ is with us, and his light will shine for us, whatever our circumstances, and whatever 2025 brings. The light has come that all the world might know his truth, justice and compassion. As we nurture that light in ourselves, drawing closer to God through worship, prayer and service, we will be able to share it too. We receive the light to carry it to others, whether that’s our neighbours and family, or those others we encounter, often fleetingly, in our daily lives. I will end with some words of a hymn. You might like to use these as your prayer this month: Longing for light, we wait in darkness. Longing for truth, we turn to you. Your Word made flesh, hope of the nations, Light for the world to see! Christ, be our light! Shine in our hearts, shine through the darkness. Christ, be our light! Shine in your church gathered today.
The season of Advent is traditionally described as a season of waiting, a time to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Christ Child. Yet for many of us these weeks are some of the most hectic of the year; we are occupied with buying and wrapping presents, writing cards, doing extra baking, making arrangements for visitors or planning journeys to see others. Those employed in education, retail and finance, and many other sectors, including the church, find this an especially busy time. Waiting is the last thing we feel able to do, and we have little space to think about our hearts, when there is so much else to prepare. Nevertheless, the Christmas stories can provide us with a rich focus for thought at this time of year. In the midst of my own activity, I have been reflecting on the description in Luke’s gospel of the visit of Mary, the mother of Jesus, to her cousin Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist. This is a story about two women, from among the many women whom Luke brings to our attention in his gospel. They are ordinary enough women, who would have spent much of their lives busy with mundane chores. Yet, they were women for whom life, in the culture of their day, was not straightforward, Elizabeth, because of her long years of childlessness, and Mary, with the prospect of a child to be born outside marriage. It is easy to see that Mary might have wanted the advice of her cousin about the troubling message she had just received from the angel Gabriel. Both these women were soon to become mothers. Along with mothers before and since they must have shared the uncertainty and risk of childbirth, the doubts as to their own abilities to care for their babies, and their hopes for what their children would become.I once saw a painting hanging in a chapel in south-west England. I have been unable to discover the artist or even its title, but it depicts two women greeting each other, full of joy. It is the moment of meeting described by Luke, as Elizabeth and her own child recognise the identity of the baby Mary is carrying. Mary’s joy finds expression in the song which we call the Magnificat, praising God for what he will do through the child in her womb. It is a song which promises the lifting up of the humble. It announces that God is turning the world’s values upside down. In his poem, ‘The Visitation’, Malcolm Guite describes Mary and Elizabeth as ‘two women on the very edge of things’. They are humble and ordinary, and yet God will use them to change the world. They are more than women, and more than mothers. They are people who are faithful and obedient to God’s call on their lives. Each of us, whether we are women or men, can be faithful and obedient like them. We can never be too ordinary, too doubtful of our own abilities, or our lives too complicated for God to call us.Over the next few weeks, as Christmas draws near, in the midst of our work and our busyness or in a rare moment of quiet, might we too hear his call?
