Fathers and Sons

The lessons appointed for the Sunday after Christmas could seem to some a trifle strange.  While we are still savouring the plum pudding, and anticipating further helpings of turkey disguised as curry or risotto as those interminable stocks of sprouts and other vegetables are slowly eaten away, the church liturgy has moved on apace, and last Sunday’s lesson told us about Jesus as a teenager.  The inspiration for this article came from my experience at the early service.

The final verses of St Luke chapter 2 tell of annual pilgrimage made by Joseph and Mary to the temple in Jerusalem.  I can’t say why, but the first two words of that passage, “Every year ...” (v.41) took my mind back at least thirty years, to my father’s description of one of his own early memories.  At the age of three, his family moved from the village where he was born but, in his seventies, he was still able to describe a trip to the chapel anniversary in a larger village some three or four miles away.  Clearly to all involved this was an important annual event.

Later in the reading we heard Luke’s narrative of Jesus staying behind in the temple when his parents left for home.  After realising that he wasn’t with the party and then eventually finding him, Mary protested about his absence from them (v.49) ... possibly a reaction to the anxiety of the search.  It was time for yours truly to have another reminiscence.

When my son was about seven, he came with me on an outing to the seaside.  While I was chatting with my friends, Mike went exploring.  Long before I was aware that he was no longer with us, he was out of sight.  Once we realised he was missing, a general search was organised to find him and it was probably only minutes before one of my friends walked up with the lad hand-in-hand.  It was long enough for me to imagine all sorts of tragedy, however; not least how I might explain to his mother why I’d come home without him!

There is just that one glimpse in the Gospels’ otherwise complete silence about the period between the manger in Bethlehem to Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, (Matt. 3:13; Mark 1:9).  We can imagine, though, that it was from Joseph, His earthly ‘father’, that he learned the skills that made him ‘wholly man’.  Meanwhile, as Luke explained in these verses (Luke 2:49) He was in His Father’s house, learning the spiritual truths that made Him so strong in His later life as He confronted the misguided ways of the world.

I’m sure each of us, as we reflect upon our own lives, can think of a key individual - whether male or female; perhaps more than one person - from whom we learned the key elements of the beliefs we now hold ... or indeed share with others.  Maybe, as we pass this significant moment of starting a new year, it’s a good time to give thanks for those who have been ‘spiritual fathers’ to us.

The 'Bertrimoutier Challenge'

A year or so ago, I wrote here about my adventures some while ago in the Vosges, and reflected on my decision to ease gently into retirement whilst purchasing and getting to know the ins and outs of a small motor-caravan.  In examining my aims and aspirations as I should use this asset, I concluded that a definite challenge would be posed by talking to people and enjoying fellowship with them. I resolved that, while not taking myself too seriously, I should avoid foolish chit-chat and unsubstantiated criticism.  At the end of the post, I dared myself to report back here.  So now, a year later, I’m rising to my own challenge.  Has having the motor-caravan helped me overcome my perceived difficulty chatting to people? 

I undertook four expeditions during the summer, three each of two nights and a week during June comprising three more two-night stops.  The last two of these events fall broadly into the ‘failure’ box, as regards chatter.  In one situation I was the only camper there, and went purposely to eliminate distractions in order to complete a particular piece of work in a quiet, concentrated and deliberate manner.  In the other, although there were a number of other vehicles present, most of the other visitors spent the daytime away from the site.  That said, I did chat on the final morning with the couple on the adjacent pitch.  They only stayed for the one night there, and just beat me to the exit as they made their way home from France to Staffordshire.

My first trip, just after Easter, was a good initiation into the programme, and having deliberately set myself to smile and/or nod to each other camper I passed, I felt satisfied with the result.  The June trip was planned to incorporate a visit to the Bible Society’s recently opened visitor centre at Llanycil on the shores of Lake Bala, called Mary Jones World.  It commemorates the 26-mile walk by a fifteen-year-old girl in 1800 in order to buy her own copy of the Bible.  It was this feat that inspired the foundation four years later of what became the Bible Society.  I had made contact in advance with the manager, Nerys Siddall and after a brief chat with her during my visit, I felt confident to offer a single word of Welsh over the heads of other visitors as I took my leave. 

It was Nerys who had suggested the site where I stayed.  This was right next to the preserved railway, and I chatted one morning to one of the volunteers there, as he painted a signal post by the platform.  There were also two conversations on the site, one with the owner, as he rested from repairing a piece of the fence, and the other with one of the few other campers, as we walked back together from the shower block.

These specific camping incidences might seem trivial in themselves, but they form part of a broader pattern of increased involvement with others during the year, as I have made a conscious effort to recover the jovial interlocutor that I was in past times.  That’s not to say there isn’t still some way to go.  It was with some apprehension, for example, that a couple of weeks ago I put myself in the position of attending a social function where I had reason to believe that I would know no one else present.  I confess that I was glad to discover at least three others from my own church there, and one of them acted as a willing conduit enabling me to join in.

Even a personal post like this cannot pass without a look at Scripture, of course, and my first quotation is particularly apposite to that last experience.  Jesus spoke about sending His disciples out as sheep among wolves, and told them, inter alia, “do not worry about what to say or how to say it.  At that time you will be given what to say.” (Matt. 10:16-19).  More generally illustrative is God’s dealing with the reluctant Moses (Exodus ch.4), which culminates in Aaron being appointed as his mouthpiece, “I will help both of you speak, and will teach you what to do.” (v. 15).  And final encouragement comes as to Jeremiah, where God says to him, “Go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you.” (Jer. 1:7).

These verses are not only reassuring for me in my hesitation about speaking, but to us all, for from time to time we all come up against situations where we know we should say something, but aren’t quite sure how it might be received.  It’s then that we should take strength from such words as these, and remember that our Lord is with us - not just in heart, but also in mouth - whatever we’re faced with - for it’s on these occasions more than ever that we’re speaking for Him.