As I (Sam) write, I’m just back from our Wild Saints celebration on Dartmoor and the old festival of Samhain – Summer’s End – was very much in my mind as I drove through the autumn mist to Manaton early this morning. The path to St Winifred’s Church was golden with fallen linden leaves and the welcome from the congregation, dear friend & lay reader, Hilda, and their priest, Simon, was as warm as all the autumn colours. We were kindly invited to say a few words about Wild Church, so once again I found myself wondering, what is this about really?
I found myself reflecting on the word ‘Church’ which is often off-putting for many folks I meet, conjuring up senses of old, cold buildings and formal services full of wordy statements about God, belief and faith that some of us struggle to relate to at all, let alone agree with. So I found myself revisiting the Biblical Greek word for Church, Ekklesia, and its basic definition of ‘a gathering of people called out from home to meet in open assembly’. I can relate to this as a way of describing Wild Church, as we are simply a gathering of people (and dogs) who feel called out of familiar structures to meet ‘in open assembly’ with different places and people and the wild.
So a few of us gathered with the good folks of Manaton for their morning communion and more of us pitched up afterwards, until about a dozen women, men and dogs set off for our silent walk over Hayne Down, including both familiar faces and new friends. Miraculously the mist cleared and as we climbed onto the moor we were graced with one last glimpse of warm summer sun and blue skies as we wound our way through the fields and woods and onto the open moor. Climbing a steep hill in full sun and with a wonderful view opening up behind us was a good reminder to breathe deep, go slowly and pause often.
When we gathered together on a granite shelf of the tor at the top of the hill it really felt like an open assembly under that wide blue sky, with a communion of saints that included bright stars of dew in the grass, the song of the wren, the pleated caps of tiny mushrooms and summer’s last butterfly. Today’s wild communion was a silent giving and receiving of a slice of local organic sourdough bread and sloe gin and then reflections and gratitude spoken out of our silent time together.
I was glad that Beth’s reflections included an appreciative taste of Simon’s earlier sermon on death. He had shared impressions of visiting a local care home and recognising the ‘waiting room’ quality of its main room fringed with chairs. It was powerful and moving to hear him describe people who have lost so much of what tends to be seen as ‘valuable’ in life… home, possessions, loved ones, health and faculties… as ‘warriors’, ones who are grappling with the raw power and pain of living with dying. I’d like to remember them tomorrow, and ‘all souls’ who approach the margins of death and those who have passed over.
So we give thanks for knees that will still carry us up steep hills and down the other side, including taking us past the Bowerman’s Nose, a rock pillar said to be the spell bound form of a hunter who pursued a witch in her form as a hare. He looks like a granite giant sitting just below the summit of the tor and I can imagine him as as an ancestral guardian from an ancient time, a wild saint from an earthier era.
Slowly we circle back to civilisation, crossing a stream (where Chris launches the ultimate ‘pooh stick’ – a weathered branch nearly as tall as he is, which remarkably makes it under the bridge and into the distance) and coming back through the Churchyard to our final gathering place at Oakwood, the home of another dear Manaton friend, Joyce. Coming through her garden gate is like stepping into an enchanted space, held within the rich red glow of the maple leaves in her peaceful garden. With our usual sense of timelessness, we’ve arrived way past lunch time but we are still warmly welcomed and there’s the most delicious soup awaiting us on the aga, which Rob promptly christens ‘depth soup’ due to its many layers of flavour – recipe coming soon!
So our first full year of Wild Church draws to a close and I’m left with so many images and memories, so much to give thanks for. Wonderful people and places and creatures met along the way… all kinds of experiences from grazing with horses to wild swimming… all manner of wild and weird emergent ceremonies with prayer leaves blown from tor tops, candles lit in yew trees and lashings of libations… It’s been so full of life and soul, silence and laughter, good food and great company and just a whole lot of fun. So sitting here back at home, with a measure of strong spirits to hand, I can honestly say ‘Here’s to the ongoing adventure of Wild Church and do feel free to join us!’
(With thanks to Beth and Rob for their beautiful photos)