From Hart to Hearts
A Message from Rev Linda Hart for the month of July 2010
There is a wooden chalice that sits on the table at the very front of the church, just under the stained glass windows. I’ve had a funny relationship with it since I arrived, and I suppose it’s finally time to admit it.
Actually, it wasn’t immediately after I arrived – there was too much to take in right then, too many things to notice and grow accustomed to. But it wasn’t long before I realised that the base of the chalice didn’t set right. The chalice leans. And I find it annoying. It is possible to shift it around and around until it appears from a distance to be straight. Standing next to it, however, you can see that the candle leans one way or the other.
I try to remember to make sure it is properly aligned before worship each week, and in doing so have discovered that there is someone else who is similarly concerned.* One week, there was a small square of fabric that had been folded over and over again, and then nestled under one side to make the chalice stand right. A week went by and the piece of fabric had been shifted around so as to unbalance the chalice even more, and after another week, it had been spread out so as to provide a cushion for the base. Finally, it disappeared.
Most Sundays, though, I have a little conversation with myself as I fiddle and fuss with it whilst getting it lit for the day. (Please read the italicised bits with a seriously whiney voice.)
‘It leans. I want a chalice here that doesn’t lean.’
‘It doesn’t matter that it leans,’ I say back to myself. ‘It’s perfectly all right. In fact, it’s a nice chalice. I like that it’s wood. And no one else notices.’ **
‘But it leans. Why can’t we have one that’s shiny and new and stands straight? We deserve it.’
‘Not everything shiny and new is best. Sometimes what we have is enough. More isn’t always better. Be happy with this chalice. After all, everyone leans a bit, or is a little worse for wear. There is nothing wrong with being a bit different and not all perfect.’
And so it goes. One voice in my head asking for some sort of aesthetic reprieve from the tilt, the other voice reminding me of what matters in the world, and noting a few spiritual truths that are too easy to forget in these times of throw-away culture.
Once I have lit that chalice, of course, it falls away from my consciousness, and the community gathers and we sing and pray and consider matters of great importance. When I go to blow it out at the end of the day, I rarely think of the tilt. I only remember the sound of voices joined, of the warmth of community that still lingers in the now mostly empty room.
It’s a small thing, really, but it reminds me that even small matters can teach us big lessons that we need to learn over and over again. It is likely that I’ll continue to have the conversation week in and week out. And keep remembering and learning what it is that matters.
Love,
Linda
* In all likelihood, it’s my husband, Peter, who has a strong preference for most things to be arranged at right angles.
** I fully realise that none of you will not notice ever again. Sorry about that.