My eye was caught this week by an interview in the Church Times with Ian Cave, a former nurse and now a human rights observer, with a particular interest in Israel and Palestine. He is a Quaker but it is worth quoting his words.

“While my mother used to go to church on Sundays when we were very young, I was brought up in a secular environment and considered myself an atheist… [Now] I share the Clerk role with my local Quaker meeting… I remain a non-theist Quaker (ie a Quaker who does not feel the need to speak about God) but I believe that many of us share a common experience which some people call God. When I sit silently and manage to clear all the thoughts and words bursting inside my head, sometimes I become aware of insights. Some Quakers call this listening to the light, others call it the voice of God. You probably know what I mean. I’ve tried to put my values into practice- to let ‘my life speak’ as Quakers say”.

I am a Christian priest who affirms the creeds each Sunday and I make no apologies for speaking of God as a reality and sharing my faith with others. But I recognise and value those who clearly have a spiritual dimension in their lives and engage with it but do not wish to label it. I have a feeling that the God who I worship is also happy to speak to those people who do not call her/him by name. I have more concerns about those who do not engage with any spiritual aspect of their lives.

Last Saturday, I took a chance on the weather forecast and drove out to Wales, to walk up Cader Idris. I wanted to repeat a walk I last did thirty years ago; following a path up the north side of the hill. When I set off, it was warm and dry but the top of hill was covered in cloud. I got caught in one sharp shower and the summit was still in mist when I got there. I ate my sandwiches in the hut at the top of the hill and then started to pick my way back down. About 100 feet below the summit, just after a rocky scramble, I paused and then became aware that the cloud was moving. I did wonder if the whole mountain was going to clear and whether I should go back to the top; it didn’t and, fortunately, I didn’t. Instead I simply stood for about 10 minutes, watching the mist swirl, catching glimpses of the panorama of the valley below, the sharp rocks on the cliff face next to the path. I was caught up in the moment; focussing on the detail of the mountain, sharing in its intimacy and its mystery. Hill walkers usually curse low cloud, but there are times when I think it enhances a climb.

I’m not sure you actually need to climb a mountain to find something of wonder in mist; I’ve had similar experiences walking to the station on a foggy morning. There is something spiritual, mystical, about being in a cloud. In the late 14^th century, an unknown mystic wrote a book called “The cloud of unknowing”, about entering a spiritual cloud to better experience the mystery of God. The next time you find yourself in mist, if you can pause to enjoy the mystery, the wonder and that which I call God.

On Wednesday, I was put on the spot. Alex, from the Caring for God’s Acre team was visiting Billingsley churchyard to scythe the grass; some volunteers from the congregation had joined him and I had come to show moral support and consume the cake that had been provided. They also serve who stand and eat…

Whilst in earnest discussion about how to encourage more wild flowers, I was interrupted by one of our volunteers who was in a state of some excitation; whilst cleaning the church she had found a dead bat, which we have subsequently identified as Soprano Pipistrelle. We think it may have died of shock at observing 10 in church for the most recent 8am communion after 20 at the last evening service. But what then caught me off guard was when she asked me to pray for it, before we committed its remains to the ground. Do bats have souls? Is there a place in heaven for bats?? I quickly mumbled some words of thanksgiving for its life.

I have no idea if bats or any other creature (or indeed plant) has a soul; I leave such matters to God. But all living creatures are part of “creation”, the natural world that ultimately owes its existence to God, even though God works through the laws of physics and chemistry and evolution by natural selection. And the religious thinkers who wrote the creation poems in Genesis recognised a great truth, when they  said that the natural/created world was good, because it ultimately reflects the goodness of its creator/primary cause. So I am  glad I commended it to God in my brief prayer.

For our monthly 6pm evening services that we run in Billingsley over Spring and Summer we have a theme of travel and exploration. Last month, Sue Bates our church treasurer, told us of a recent trip she made to Antarctica; next Sunday (9^th July), Caroline Johns, assistant editor of one of our local parish magazines will be telling us about three trips that she has made. In a month’s time, I will be talking about my trips to the Hebrides. In all of these, a common theme will be finding something that speaks to us and nourishes us in the natural world, whether or not we consider that we have a religious faith.

In the 19^th century, Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote a long poem, “Aurora Leigh”; one of its main themes is that division between the natural or physical world and what I would call the spiritual is a false one.

“Without the spiritual, observe,

The natural’s impossible;—no form,

No motion! Without sensuous, spiritual

Is inappreciable;—no beauty or power!”

A few lines later, she picks up a scene from the Book of Exodus, where Moses stumbles on God, “Holy ground”, in a burning bush and is commanded to remove his shoes, for he is standing on ground that is hallowed by God.

“Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God:

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,

And daub their natural faces unaware

More and more, from the first similitude.”

Our speakers, in their own way, are reflecting on how they find “heaven” (however they understand that) in the common bushes they have observed in their travels. But of course, Browning’s point is that we do not need to go far from our own door to see the same thing, if only we have eyes.

Ethics and standards, especially in public life have been much in the news this week as Parliament debated the report on the conduct of our former Prime Minister, Boris Johnson. In the United States, former President Donald Trump has legal difficulties of his own. People will form their own judgements on these individuals, but much of the concern relates to trust; how can we have faith in leaders if they allegedly lie and mislead us? There seems to be an argument that the end justifies the means; provided leaders deliver prosperity and security, does it matter if they mislead and twist the truth? Politics is the art of the possible. all leaders manipulate the news so why get worked up about it?

I am aware that we all manage information to suit our own purposes; we sometimes deal with sensitive situations where we may need to decide what is the least-bad way forward. It is not always wise to be completely transparent in these situations. But when we are in these situations, we need to recognise the difficult course we are navigating. What disturbs me is when some individuals appear to become so comfortable with ignoring the truth that they simply do not recognise they are on a very dangerous path. Not only are they dishonest with others, they become dishonest with themselves. in the Judaeo-Christian tradition there is a simple word for this lack of self-awareness ; “sin”.

This Sunday will be Father’s Day. Dad never seemed greatly concerned about this, but I always bought him a card and he was pleased, if a little surprised, to get it. Mum was never impressed with the idea of Father’s Day; for her it was just something that card makers had invented to increase their sales. She did have something of a point; does anyone remember “Grandparent’s Day”, which really was a piece of marketing by the greeting card companies. Oddly enough she did not feel the same way about Mothering Sunday, although in fairness that was a day with much more ancient roots, albeit reinvented in the 20^th century both by society and, in rare piece of successful opportunism, by the church.

Despite it’s purely secular roots, many churches will be saying prayers for fathers this Sunday; thanks for past or present relationships, or where appropriate, for healing or closure on fractured relationships. I have really only good memories of my Dad and for that I am very grateful. However, I am still haunted by the words of a young man I met whilst I was training, a resident of a local YMCA and held captive by drug addiction. He had a young son but was in despair; “You try and be a good father, a good example, and you can’t”.

For what is good, we thank you loving Father; for what is not, Lord in your mercy hear our cry.

I saw the film “2001, A Space Odyssey” when I was about 8; I was far too young to understand it but now I understand why many saw it as being prophetic. Amongst other things, it concerns a rogue computer, Hal, who has been programmed to ensure the success of a space mission. Hal decides the human crew may be imperilling the mission and so it follows its own logic by seeking to kill them. This week saw the announcement from the US Defence Department that a drone, equipped with artificial intelligence to strike a target, would in all probability kill its own operator if the individual sought to recall it. Computers programmed with artificial intelligence have great potential for good; I work with a colleague essentially using a simple form of this to design new drugs. However, the experts in the field are worried for a reason; how do we programme in morality and ethics? I suspect this is a problem which can be solved, at least to a degree, but if this is done, what then is the status of the computer? Would it fully replicate the way a human would behave, at least one driven by pure logic? In the film, 2001, Hal pleaded with the surviving astronauts not to switch it off, to spare its “life”.

Some years before “2001” was made, a scientist-priest, Teilhard de Chardin, also pondered what makes us human. He wrote “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience”. I wonder if it this that ultimately will separate us from intelligent, even moral, computers?