27th June 2025

Sitting outside the Arnolfini café, I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my face when it peeked out from behind the clouds, and a gentle breeze. Before me, occasional lines of primary school children in high visibility jackets headed to the M Shed and ferries made their way up and down the water below the colourful houses of Cliftonwood, Bristol’s familiar landmarks on the skyline. I started to read a book by Jayne Manfredi (Anglican Deacon and Radio 4 contributor), given to me as a gift.

The book confronts issues of faith and our bodies. How often do we think much about this (unless perhaps you were one of the Tyndale Dancers)?

In the past I’ve been struck quite powerfully by the act of walking up in an Anglican church to receive Communion. It somehow feels quite different from having it brought to you in your seat. Either way, there’s symbolism which I find helpful – felt bodily, rather than just cogitated on.

Young children are probably using all their senses in church and picking up quite different things from those of us more focused on the words of hymns, prayers and sermons. How about if we’re ill, living with dementia or just plain tired? What then?

I liked this quote from the book, about when things might not feel so great in terms of what’s going on for us in our bodies. It talks about “having the clarity to see the giftedness in the things we find hard and recognising the moments of grace and wonder that hide in the plain sight of ordinariness”.

Ruth Allen