I remember on my holidays attending a weekday eucharist in a parish church up in North Yorkshire.
The old priest was struggling to celebrate.
The twenty five minutes of the celebration were full of devotion.
They were also a battle against infirmity as Fr Tony fought his infirmity to take, bless, break and share with the dozen of us gathered in church for the daily offering.
I had a cup of coffee with him after and he gave me this poem that challenges people who whine about life that I have always valued:
Today upon a bus I saw a lovely girl with golden hair.
When suddenly she rose to leave I saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one foot and wore a crutch but as she passed she smiled.
O God forgive me when I whine, I have two feet … the world is mine.
It meant a lot to me, and it will mean even more as physical infirmities grow with old age.
There will come a day when the gestures of the eucharist will be painful to my own body as it grows feeble.
The elderly priest and his poem reminded me once more of all I take for granted especially health and strength.
I recalled the very name of the service: Eucharist which means thanksgiving.
When Jesus took bread and wine he gave God thanks and so should we.
Thank you Fr Tony for reminding me of this.
Today our thanksgiving is writ large on harvest festival.
Archbishop Michael Ramsey once said that thanksgiving is a soil in which the weed of pride will not easily grow.
‘All things come of you’ we pray ‘and of your own do we give you’
For the beauty of the earth, for the joy of human love, for health and strength and for grace to overcome our infirmities we thank you, Lord!
We join our thanksgivings to those offered today on a million altars across the world in this great sacrifice of thanks and praise, the holy eucharist. Amen.
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