I still can’t really come to grips with the death of Mark Ashton, of St. Andrew the Great in Cambridge. There’s quite a few of his sermons in MP3 form on the church website, and I have been downloading them.
Somehow this is painful too; because it brings home to me that there won’t be any more; the set is complete, the collection final. I’ve always been in the habit of treating one of his sermons as one in an endless stream, that I could go to hear whenever I wanted to, where I knew that God would speak.
Now I can’t do that. It’s Sunday tomorrow, and I could go. But to what end? Mark is gone, and with him has gone a world of spiritual wisdom and kindness.
All that is left of that wonderful man is some bytes on a disk. Maybe there is a hundred or so; each about 3Mb long; 300Mb or so in total. That’s it. He is now just a soon-fading memory in our minds, and some bytes.
It’s one thing for me to collect the words of the Fathers. I never knew any of them. But to do so for someone I knew? How inadequate those few hundred megabytes are, in exchange for what has departed!