From Rev'd Ruth Scott, an Anglican vicar in Richmond:

"Early in the summer I saw a silver metal tree in a village gift shop. It stood about 2” high, was covered in masses of silver leaves and 3 glass candle holders hung from its lower branches. I knew my students at school would love, and make use of it.

Last term tragedy struck our school community. We worked through our grief by drawing masses of pictures, writing poems and songs, tying messages to helium balloons, and lighting hundreds of candles. I was reminded of that time when I saw the photo this weekend of candles being lit by those keeping vigil at the Chilean Mine. Hopefully they’ll soon be doing the same thing to celebrate the rescue of their loved ones.

Whether at times of celebration or catastrophe, a candle burning can say so much more than words. I remember my godson as a toddler seeing for the first time lots of candles alight in a Cathedral Chapel. The silence was broken by him singing ‘Happy Birthday to you.’ at the top of his voice.

Symbols and rituals, and all the other languages of the Arts, can’t change what’s happened, but they can give shape to it in a way that simply stating the facts of the matter can’t. At a human level they create a sense of connectedness, which brings me back to the silver tree.

Chris, I didn’t buy it when I first saw it. It was too expensive, but last week I went back to the shop resolved to get it if it was still there. It was. Chatting to the shop owner I told her how my kids at school would use the tree, how they’d light the candles and, when someone was on their mind through illness or some other problem, they could stick a tiny jewel on one of the leaves – a gem of a thought or prayer for that person.

Unexpectedly, when I came to pay, the woman charged me only half the price. The image I’d shared had touched her heart as well as her mind - just as the memory of her random act of kindness has warmed mine ever since."