Our final field trip was to Exeter Synagogue, in preparation for the next stage of our journey through early Hebrew traditions and our first encounter with the Hebrew Bible. Even those of us who thought we knew Exeter well had difficulty finding the building; it is hidden away down a small unprepossessing alley, unassuming and unannounced. Once through the door, however, we had a real sense of entering a sacred and much loved space – a deep well of worship behind the anonymous façade.
During our fascinating 2½ hour visit we were given an idea of the long history of Jews in the West Country, whose roots stretch back to pre-Expulsion times. Indeed, Jews have lived and worshipped in Exeter for over 250 years. The synagogue, which was built in 1763, is the second oldest Ashkenazi synagogue in English speaking countries and is small, beautiful and happily, still used regularly for services. Although neither the synagogue nor the community are big enough to support a full time Rabbi, it is maintained and run by volunteers; one of them, Richard, was our welcoming guide for the day.
Once the Anglo-Jewish historical context had been set, Richard gave us some insights into the form of Jewish services and talked about Jewish prayer and ritual, including the ways that the sacred scriptures are used. The Torah is at the very centre of worship and study, and the beautiful Hebrew scrolls are housed in a tabernacle/ark which is one of the focal points of the synagogue building. They are brought into the body of the synagogue during services with deep reverence and ritual, and then the appropriate reading for that day is given in Hebrew (with worshippers following in a parallel translation Torah if needed).
We left the synagogue and headed to Claire’s home for some lunch and a period of reflection.
We were all moved by the new insights into the Jewish story of rejection, exile and persecution. The Ashkenazi Jews came to the UK from Germany and Eastern Europe, and so the connection with the events leading up to, and during, the holocaust is strong.
At the same time the story of survival, and its roots in strong faith, was also profoundly moving and inspiring. The reverence for the sacred scriptures and the rituals of the Jewish faith (both in and out of the synagogue) seemed to us to create a rhythm of living which goes back to ancient times but creates meaning for people today. This feels particularly relevant as we explore the ancient roots of our own faith tradition and how that exploration and understanding may deepen our connection with the Divine in our own daily lives.
Our heartfelt thanks to Richard and to all members of the Exeter Synagogue community for sharing so willingly with us.
The third weekend of Open Spirit took its travellers into enquiry and experience of sacred marriage. Through story and practice we brought masculine and feminine into divine union. First of all we travelled back to Ancient Mesopotamia where his/herstory and myth revealed hidden layers of the stream from which our society has been built. Familiar and unfamiliar stories met in a setting that birthed civilisation as we know it today. The familiar was Abraham, the not so familiar was his wife Sarah, and the even less familiar were the stories of their Gods and Goddesses – Ningal and Nanna, Inanna and Dumuzi.
As the wife of Abraham, Sarah’s voice is not heard in the Bible. However, deeper study raises her voice and fleshes out her bones so that we can now see a fuller depiction not only of Sarah herself but of Abraham and the world in which they lived. Why is it relevant to re-look at these stories? Because, as spoken by Dr. Savina J. Teubal, “For millennia, Western society has been based on codes of behaviour affirmed or implied in our sacred scriptures.” If the feminine voice is not heard in scripture it won’t be heard in society, and it won’t be heard in ourselves. Whether we are male or female, the feminine is an essential energy; it is the second half of the whole.
What does this mean in practice? How does the rediscovery of the feminine speak to our ways of knowing?
This brings me to the second half of our weekend, in which we explored the origins and experience of four fold knowing, an ancient model that finds manifestation in many forms and in many traditions. In the Christian tradition its home is in the practice of Lectio Divina, meaning sacred reading. Aligning ourselves with the Celtic tradition, we began with the ‘Big Book’ of Nature, and intended to later move on to the ‘Small Book’ of the Bible (however, with the richness of our day and encounters of the Big Book, the Small Book had to be let go of for another day).
The four fold way of knowing is a holistic method for invoking head, heart, body and spirit in an encounter and enquiry of another. It is a sacred marriage of active and receptive, speaking and listening, outwards and inwards. On paper the four ways move from number 1 to number 4, from body to head to heart to spirit. However, in practice, particularly as the practice develops in oneself, it becomes a circular movement, even as one member of the group named it “spiralling knowing”, where with each circular movement through each muscle of knowing the subject is known more and more and more.
The act of ‘allowing’ to couple ‘asserting’ is an essential move towards deeper knowing of the other. In the act of allowing we open to the other and hear in a way that assertion does not permit. To know is to be in relationship with, to be intimate with. And this requires a movement in as well as out, receptive as well as active, feminine as well as masculine. This is the sacred marriage, and in sacred marriage authentic relationship is born. Perhaps in developing our abilities to be in authentic relationship with all things, we might truly be able to value diversity and equality of all beings and different ways of knowing. What if our spiritual communities mimicked the biodiversity of an ecosystem?… allowing diversity to feed and nourish the community, creating resilience rather than conflict…
What about church as symbiotic ecosystem………?
My encounter with the Cedar Tree
Helen’s poem
If God
be a tree
don’t forget me.
If God be tree
let me hide in thee.
If God be tree,
wide and strong,
so many branches
to choose from,
let me be one.
You spread so wide
and sure,
Your blessing spreads
over my head,
Your roots flow like
waves cresting into
the soil,
root me.
If God be tree,
let me take refuge,
and a nut, and squirrel
be.
