I’m looking down over Blockley, the village in the North Cotswolds where I live, and where I have the privilege of being the priest. You can’t see the village or the church because they are hidden deep in the valley, beside the fast flowing brook which has shaped the village over the last 1300 years.
We know that a Christian monk had a cell here in the 750s. The monks who came after him sold the farm to the Bishop of Worcester in 855AD. It belonged to the bishops through plague and famine, and the village expanded around the church, milling corn, then wool and then silk. The church is in the centre of Blockley, the first church in the north Cotswolds and the first church to have hydroelectric power in the world.
Despite our social distancing, there is a steady stream of people, keeping appropriately physically isolate, but enjoying the sense that even at a time like this, the church is in the middle of everything. God is in the middle of everything. Love is at the core of every wave, bow and smile across the distance between us.