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Meditations
Quiet moments in your day to reflect and focus your thoughts. Meditations published here will help you to do just that. Some will be for personal use while others may be more suitable for public worship.
There I was, up in the hills, minding my own business – well actually minding me sheep to be accurate. ‘Twas a bit nippy, if I remember, and we were all huddled around this little fire which had almost gone out. Trouble was, none of us wanted to get up and get some more wood- if you moved you’d have to let the cold under your blanket all wrapped around you. But they said I should do it, being the only girl there, and them all men.
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This monologue (inspired by John 8: 1-11) was written by Susan Carne at the ArtServe creative writing workshop held at Thetford on 31 August 2013.
Fear was overwhelming. I was going to be stoned to death. The Romans had forbidden the practice but I didn’t know that then. I just knew that my husband wanted revenge and having dragged me to the Temple Court the teachers of the Law and the Pharisees seemed more than happy to oblige.
Made to stand in front of Jesus as they continued to question Him, I watched His finger drawing in the sand while waves of guilt and humiliation coursed through my body.
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A meditation for Maundy Thursday inspired by the missing mention of the women who were, more than likely, in the background at The Last Supper. Suitable for use in a service alongside Passover: Peter.
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Passover. Or at least that's how it began. Gathering together, just the twelve of us with him, and Mary and the others preparing the food.
Passover. Remembering all Israel's history, God's guidance and salvation … mercy … love.
"What makes this night different from any other night" … that traditional question … but the way Jesus told the story, so different from before, as if all the pieces suddenly fell into place, all the history had a purpose. It was almost as if he'd been there at each crucial point.
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It was a wonderful meal that had been cooked, for me. Colour, taste, variety and I was hungry too. Radio 3 was playing in the background. It was a Saturday night so highly likely that we would get a touch of opera. Only this time it was Herr Wagner and his cosmic drama, the Ring of the Nibelung. We had, unbeknown to us, reached Act 3 of the second part and the ride of the Valkyries. The music was electrifying. Wagner had marshalled all of his musicality into this intense moment, and he sustains it for far longer than other composers, perhaps until he has engaged our full attention.
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