Did you notice the change in title to "Once in More Than Ten Thousand Days!" Someone pointed out to me that Leap Year Day is rare enough, but falling on a Sunday is seven times rarer! Once in 28 years we have this excuse for turning the Sunday service upside down and roundabout, and I, like many of you, probably won't be here for the next time, so I'm making the most of it, as you've probably seen.
Here's perhaps the topsy-turviest, yet most sensible, of all the deviations from the norm today. Instead of talking to you, as if I had wisdom to impart, which in fact I rarely have, I'm going to ask you questions. I'm going to ask you to think about the questions quietly, reflectively - unless, of course, you're irresistibly moved by the Spirit to speak, in which case you can come to the front, pick up the microphone, and give us your response. Let me just caution you, as the Quakers, the Society of Friends, customarily do, that there's a big difference between being moved by the Spirit and just wanting to talk! In any case, you can most certainly tell me your thoughts about these questions any time - by phone, by email, in person.
Here's my first question to you on this Leap Year's Sunday:
Leap Year occurs because nature doesn't fit easily into our human attempts at numbering and organizing; it came about as a way of correcting an inaccuracy in the calendar, our system of counting the days - what thoughts does this suggest about the relationship between human constructs (like measurement) and the unmeasured natural world?
You've heard the phrase "Leap of Faith." Thinking of faith as the kind of trust that takes risks, rather than as a matter of religious belief, what might be an adventurous "leap of faith" for you in this Leap Year?
Similarly, for this congregation, what might be our "Leap Into the Future" this year - and does the thought evoke anxiety or excitement for you, or a mixture of both? How will you face that mixture of feelings?
The last recorded words of the 17th century philosopher Thomas Hobbes were, "I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark." How do you feel about that "great leap in the dark" which comes at the end of each of our lives?
In Psalm 18, v.29, it says: "With the help of my God I shall leap over the wall." What is the barriers or wall preventing you from living as you most yearn to do, and what power might help you to leap over that wall?
The 18th century poet John Keats wrote in a letter to a friend, "In Endymion, I leaped headlong into the sea, and thereby have become better acquainted with the soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice." What is the proper balance of safety and risk for you, and are you living in that balance?
In the book of Isaiah, Chapter 35, verse 6, we read: "Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert." What would your life be like if you were to leap and sing and find water in the desert?
Poet William Blake wrote, in Songs of Experience: "My mother groan'd, my father wept, / Into the dangerous world I leapt; / Helpless, naked, piping loud, / Like a fiend hid in a cloud." Or, as one of my favourite television shows (Monk) says, "It's a jungle out there." How can we recognize the real dangers of the world without becoming disabled by fear?
Whatever our responses to these questions, may we know that here we are among friends and supporters, not only on Leap Year's Day but always. So may it be.