For me the interest is also that this Christian hymn at first sounds like what we associate with the adhan, the call to prayer in a masjid (mosque). And to hear this plays a part, for me, in realising that there is a far more ancient set of traditions that Islam drew on for its religious expressions (another being the prostrations in prayer which probably came from the practice of Byzantine monks in the middle east, in fact I'm actually wondering whether there is mileage in looking at Islam as a form of laicised monasticism).Nouslife is a wonderful place for things to ponder - check it out.
Anyway, enjoy. And the linguists might also enjoy spotting similarities to Hebrew and odd words and phrases that you recognise from elsewhere.
I'm also interested in the way that essentially static images (mostly icons) are used to give an interesting and helpful 'moving' storyboard.
Saturday, 22 December 2007
Arabic Hymn of The Nativity
Thanks to Andii over at Nouslife for this rather wonderful reminder of the Middle Eastern roots of our faith, as well as the reminder that not all Arabs are Muslims. He writes:
Tuesday, 18 December 2007
Facebook: Feelgood or Force for Change
It shouldn't come as a surprise to most of my readers that I'm on Facebook - indeed I'm sure some of you have found this blog from it. (After all, the nifty little sitemeter gadget is an efficient little spy...)
Facebook, and other social networking sites like it, often provoke an interesting variety of reactions, from incomprehension through suspicion through avid fandom, and all stages in between. It can be a highly addictive medium, after all. What starts as a simple means of keeping in touch with friends spreads. I must confess to browsing through the lists of my friends friends in the hope of reconnecting with other old friends and acquaintances, and very rewarding it is too.
Then there's a variety of rather simple and simplistic games, all carefully packaged to draw you in further and help you to waste precious time during work hours playing Tetris or Scrabble look-a-likes.
If that wasn't enough there's the opportunity to identify yourself with various pre-existing networks, through the medium of common email addresses from what I can tell, which explains how my only network is EMUT.*
Then there are groups, opportunities to join with folks of a like mind, either by invitation or by random, ranging from the entirely serious through the darkly humorous, the slightly morbid and the gently (or not so gently) ridiculous. There's even causes, which I haven't yet really explored, simply because I don't quite trust anything that purports to donate money simply for membership.
And it's all free. To join costs you nothing, or rather, costs nothing in money. And here, possibly, is the Dark Side. Every application you add gets your personal details in the form of an email address, and the right to look at your other data, so far as I can tell. There have been warnings about grounds for possible identity theft - for example your "friends" can see everything you put there (although there are privacy options), including potentially useful information for stealing your identity, or helping to access other "secure" on-line sites. It wouldn't be too easy to gather details like "pet's name" (a frequent reminder for passwords), or "first school" and the like. Using them wouldn't be so easy, but not that difficult either for the dedicated cyber-criminal.
On top of that there's the danger of what could be termed "cyber-stalking." That old acquaintance you thought so much of a while back? They might (and often do) post all sorts of photographs of themselves. Combine that with a willingness to impart seemingly random information to on-line interviews and your left with a strange mix of permissive voyeurism and the feeling of knowing someone when really you do not.
As usual (and this is typical ENTJ behaviour, I'm led to believe) I've only just reached the point I wanted to post about...
It took me a while to find out about the televisual protest of Archbishop John Sentamu recently. and I'm impressed. A grand act in keeping with the prophetic actions of the Old Testament Prophets. Of itself it will achieve nothing though. That is not cynicism, that is blatant fact. A hardened individual like Robert Mugabe (however charitable or not you may wish to be about him) will not be quaking in his boots as a result.
I am, however, somewhat of a cynical and sceptical bent. So when a Facebook group "York vs Mugabe" sprang up my main question was "is there really any point in my joining this?" Set aside the literal issue of the title, with me not being in York, but what is it. Yes, a bunch of like-minded people, and, forgive my cynicism again, naybe some folks who would like to jump on a bandwagon. Don't get me wrong - I applaud the Archbishop. But the point of the prophetic is to speak a word, that at least in part, brings change. Which brings me back to the original question, "is there really any point in my joining this?" If I don't do something, then the answer is no.
Now all that would be a really rather and negative post if I left it there, but then I stumbled upon this, Power of Facebook affects law.
The question it begs of me, and all of us, is really whether I'm willing to get up and do something, or whether I just sit behind my keyboard pontificating?
(*EMUT - East Midlands University Town)
Facebook, and other social networking sites like it, often provoke an interesting variety of reactions, from incomprehension through suspicion through avid fandom, and all stages in between. It can be a highly addictive medium, after all. What starts as a simple means of keeping in touch with friends spreads. I must confess to browsing through the lists of my friends friends in the hope of reconnecting with other old friends and acquaintances, and very rewarding it is too.
Then there's a variety of rather simple and simplistic games, all carefully packaged to draw you in further and help you to waste precious time during work hours playing Tetris or Scrabble look-a-likes.
If that wasn't enough there's the opportunity to identify yourself with various pre-existing networks, through the medium of common email addresses from what I can tell, which explains how my only network is EMUT.*
Then there are groups, opportunities to join with folks of a like mind, either by invitation or by random, ranging from the entirely serious through the darkly humorous, the slightly morbid and the gently (or not so gently) ridiculous. There's even causes, which I haven't yet really explored, simply because I don't quite trust anything that purports to donate money simply for membership.
And it's all free. To join costs you nothing, or rather, costs nothing in money. And here, possibly, is the Dark Side. Every application you add gets your personal details in the form of an email address, and the right to look at your other data, so far as I can tell. There have been warnings about grounds for possible identity theft - for example your "friends" can see everything you put there (although there are privacy options), including potentially useful information for stealing your identity, or helping to access other "secure" on-line sites. It wouldn't be too easy to gather details like "pet's name" (a frequent reminder for passwords), or "first school" and the like. Using them wouldn't be so easy, but not that difficult either for the dedicated cyber-criminal.
On top of that there's the danger of what could be termed "cyber-stalking." That old acquaintance you thought so much of a while back? They might (and often do) post all sorts of photographs of themselves. Combine that with a willingness to impart seemingly random information to on-line interviews and your left with a strange mix of permissive voyeurism and the feeling of knowing someone when really you do not.
As usual (and this is typical ENTJ behaviour, I'm led to believe) I've only just reached the point I wanted to post about...
It took me a while to find out about the televisual protest of Archbishop John Sentamu recently. and I'm impressed. A grand act in keeping with the prophetic actions of the Old Testament Prophets. Of itself it will achieve nothing though. That is not cynicism, that is blatant fact. A hardened individual like Robert Mugabe (however charitable or not you may wish to be about him) will not be quaking in his boots as a result.
I am, however, somewhat of a cynical and sceptical bent. So when a Facebook group "York vs Mugabe" sprang up my main question was "is there really any point in my joining this?" Set aside the literal issue of the title, with me not being in York, but what is it. Yes, a bunch of like-minded people, and, forgive my cynicism again, naybe some folks who would like to jump on a bandwagon. Don't get me wrong - I applaud the Archbishop. But the point of the prophetic is to speak a word, that at least in part, brings change. Which brings me back to the original question, "is there really any point in my joining this?" If I don't do something, then the answer is no.
Now all that would be a really rather and negative post if I left it there, but then I stumbled upon this, Power of Facebook affects law.
The question it begs of me, and all of us, is really whether I'm willing to get up and do something, or whether I just sit behind my keyboard pontificating?
(*EMUT - East Midlands University Town)
Monday, 17 December 2007
Keeping up with God
Another one of David's poems. And a rather fine one, I think:
*Keeping up with God?*
Keeping up with God?
Some hope!
Down to earth,
conceived as an outcast,
he cries as a baby,
eludes a child-killer,
flees as a refugee,
seeks political asylum,
is worshipped as royalty
and marked as elected
but grows in obscurity
and disappears from sight
till, tried and tested, he emerges
to defy expectations,
redefine religion,
reorder hierarchies,
alienate authorities,
rip open disgrace and death
and keep all his promises,
welcoming all respondents.
Keeping up with God?
What a hope!
© David Grieve 2007
Wednesday, 12 December 2007
Shameless Plug
Those of you appreciate the poems my friend David sends me, and then graciously allows me to "publish" here, may appreciate the following:
*Not for Sale*
editors:Carrie Pemberton, Lucy Berry and Alison Myers
Human trafficking is one of the most disturbing realities of life in
modern Europe. Here is a collection of texts for all who want to raise
awareness and make their contribution to ending the suffering of thousands
of innocent victims living on our doorstep.
978 1 905958 11 5 (P) 120pp
Available now from your book seller
Price: £12.99
This resource book is a fitting contribution to the debate raised on
slavery issues in the bicentenary year of celebrating Wilberforce's
achievements. Slavery continues, not least in the sex trade. It is a well
produced and thought-provoking contribution.
Among the many contributors is Jean Mayland (ex-diocese of Durham) and
yours truly: my two poems *Sex Slavery* and *When Our Hearts are Wintry*
(2007) are included
see https://secure2.cyberware.co.uk/~cb537/acatalog/Living_Faith.html
(scroll down)
David
In Praise of Old Technology
When I was young (so much younger than today...) I was always fascinated by one particular piece of cleaning equipment. It was something slightly mysterious, picking up things from the floor with barely a sound and light enough for a primary school-age child to manipulate without falling over power cables or suffering deafening noise.
My wife discovered one a couple of weeks back in pile of stuff literally just thrown out into the street awaiting the rubbish collection. Not only is it nostalgic, but it is efficient, faster to deploy than the vacuum cleaner, promotes vigourous exercise, and most effectively of all, can be used after the children have gone to bed without fear of awakening them.
So praise God for the Blessed Saint Ewbank, the patron of all carpet sweepers!
My wife discovered one a couple of weeks back in pile of stuff literally just thrown out into the street awaiting the rubbish collection. Not only is it nostalgic, but it is efficient, faster to deploy than the vacuum cleaner, promotes vigourous exercise, and most effectively of all, can be used after the children have gone to bed without fear of awakening them.
So praise God for the Blessed Saint Ewbank, the patron of all carpet sweepers!
Saturday, 8 December 2007
Hope? We're going to need it.
Sermon for this Sunday, Advent 2.
If there is a single word that links all the readings today it's hope.
For Isaiah, speaking to his people, the vision he offers in something that must have seemed nearly impossible – nothing more than the restoration of national fortune after near total catastrophe. Israel was like a tree, cut down to a stump, and yet here was a picture of new-growth wildly greater than what had gone before. It would have been very easy to discount ti at the time because it would have seemed so unlikely. But nevertheless there it is – the promise of new growth and revival that is ultimately understood in the coming of Jesus. Isaiah offers hope in the darkness.
So does John the Baptist to the people of Judea, under the yoke of the powerful empire of Rome. Although his words, are rather less than hope for all. The ordinary people may come after a baptism of repentance, but not the Pharisees and the Sadducees. Indeed John questions what they might hope for, or even hope in. As far as he is concerned they seem to be placing their hope in their lineage as Sons of Abraham, the greatest of the Patriarchs, who received the promise of unnumbered descendants and divine favour.
It's almost the very opposite of John's message. He is calling people to repent. And repentance is a much-misunderstood word. Maybe as part of our preparation and penitence in Advent it's worth pausing to ponder. It doesn't mean being sorry, or even owning up to the gravity of the situation. It is possible to regret, but not to repent.
It's not like a small child saying sorry because they've been told to, the sort of sorrow that isn't particularly real. Repentance is reasoned regret coupled with righteous response. It's about a 180-degree turn of attitude and action. The Highway Code frowns on U-turns, but they bring a smile to the face of God.
John the Baptist sees through the visiting “religious professionals” and challenges them to respond in the strongest of terms. The hope he offers both to them, and to the “ordinary” people is the imminent approach of the coming of God – maybe a little like how we now might understand the Second Coming. The great wrap-up at the End of Time.
John might not have got quite what he expected, but he recognised and knew enough to see Jesus as the one through whom this would all be made manifest – as well as to warn those who leant on their lineage as a shelter from divine judgement.
In Romans we are called to nothing less than a continued hope in Christ. Paul encourages his hearers, and hence us, to engage with three things: The past of our faith – our Bibles, the person of our faith - Jesus Christ, and the people of our faith – each other.
Isaiah's contemporaries maybe didn't know what to hope, other than starting from a recognition that things could only get better.
John's hearers were challenged to put their hope in the grace of God, rather than in their genealogy.
Romans – what hope does that offer? Nothing less than “all joy and peace.” Not though as an abstract something, divorced from reality, but an end that requires something of us, or from us. Paul encourages his readers to an attitude and reality of unity. Not a mere acceptance, but a unity as we follow Christ.
He reminds them of the place of Jesus, the Saviour we await, coming in the sheer ordinariness and humility of a servant to his people. He reminds us that this is a fulfilment of the great hopes of the founding fathers of the Jewish race – a fulfilment of the faith of Abraham.
It's something that goes beyond the old though – the mission of Jesus is that the Gentiles may glorify God. It is so that we, who stand outside the tradition and genealogy of the Jewish people, may come to faith in the God who has revealed himself through them.
But I'd like to return to that word hope. Isaiah's hearers needed something, or somebody, to sort then out and bring them hope in the darkness. The ordinary people who flocked to John the Baptist placed their hopes in the grace and forgiveness of God, even as the religious leaders singularly failed to do so.
And us, what do we hope for? A mended roof? A full church? A healthy bank balance? Even a full-time vicar? Maybe, dare we, ask the question that applied to the Pharisees and Sadducees: in what or who are we hoping? We are offered in Christ the hope of “all joy and peace” - but do we really need it? Do our current straits place us in somewhere where we need to rely on divinely-offered hope?
At the risk of being contentious, if we are happy and content with the status quo, or think that we can solve our own problems, then we do not need hope at all. But if we want our church to be making a difference, both in the village and on the estate we really do need hope.
We need it because the only way forward lies in raising our game, to use a sporting adage. It will require leaving behind some (or more than some) of our comfort. It will involve change, because change is an integral feature of growth.
I think we all know that already, in our heads if not yet in our hearts, but like the difference between regret and repentance it requires action, not just acknowledgement.
Action in using our facilities like the Old Schools to better effect.
In learning and growing in our faith so that we can see and understand how we need to share it with others.
In considering the messages our practices send to those outside our fellowship, and respond accordingly.
And I use the plural, “us” and “our” advisedly, because it can't, won't and shouldn't all come from the vicar. I know that we aren't all going to agree. That's the only thing that is a certainty!
As we prepare for Christmas, the celebration of the Incarnation, the power of heaven infiltrating the grubby realm of humanity let's prepare to grasp, and to respond, to the reasons why the Son of God came. Why it matters. Why we need to respond, individually and corporately.
As God made promises to the Patriarchs to spread his name to the Gentiles so that they would give him glory, so we need to hold on to that promise – that God will be faithful. Faithful in his promise to those outside our circle, our Church family, to our own Gentiles, if you like. That they may come to glorify God for his mercy too.
And to do that we really will need to hope and trust in the power of God, in our place and in our time.
May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give us a spirit of unity among ourselves as we follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth we may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
If there is a single word that links all the readings today it's hope.
For Isaiah, speaking to his people, the vision he offers in something that must have seemed nearly impossible – nothing more than the restoration of national fortune after near total catastrophe. Israel was like a tree, cut down to a stump, and yet here was a picture of new-growth wildly greater than what had gone before. It would have been very easy to discount ti at the time because it would have seemed so unlikely. But nevertheless there it is – the promise of new growth and revival that is ultimately understood in the coming of Jesus. Isaiah offers hope in the darkness.
So does John the Baptist to the people of Judea, under the yoke of the powerful empire of Rome. Although his words, are rather less than hope for all. The ordinary people may come after a baptism of repentance, but not the Pharisees and the Sadducees. Indeed John questions what they might hope for, or even hope in. As far as he is concerned they seem to be placing their hope in their lineage as Sons of Abraham, the greatest of the Patriarchs, who received the promise of unnumbered descendants and divine favour.
It's almost the very opposite of John's message. He is calling people to repent. And repentance is a much-misunderstood word. Maybe as part of our preparation and penitence in Advent it's worth pausing to ponder. It doesn't mean being sorry, or even owning up to the gravity of the situation. It is possible to regret, but not to repent.
It's not like a small child saying sorry because they've been told to, the sort of sorrow that isn't particularly real. Repentance is reasoned regret coupled with righteous response. It's about a 180-degree turn of attitude and action. The Highway Code frowns on U-turns, but they bring a smile to the face of God.
John the Baptist sees through the visiting “religious professionals” and challenges them to respond in the strongest of terms. The hope he offers both to them, and to the “ordinary” people is the imminent approach of the coming of God – maybe a little like how we now might understand the Second Coming. The great wrap-up at the End of Time.
John might not have got quite what he expected, but he recognised and knew enough to see Jesus as the one through whom this would all be made manifest – as well as to warn those who leant on their lineage as a shelter from divine judgement.
In Romans we are called to nothing less than a continued hope in Christ. Paul encourages his hearers, and hence us, to engage with three things: The past of our faith – our Bibles, the person of our faith - Jesus Christ, and the people of our faith – each other.
Isaiah's contemporaries maybe didn't know what to hope, other than starting from a recognition that things could only get better.
John's hearers were challenged to put their hope in the grace of God, rather than in their genealogy.
Romans – what hope does that offer? Nothing less than “all joy and peace.” Not though as an abstract something, divorced from reality, but an end that requires something of us, or from us. Paul encourages his readers to an attitude and reality of unity. Not a mere acceptance, but a unity as we follow Christ.
He reminds them of the place of Jesus, the Saviour we await, coming in the sheer ordinariness and humility of a servant to his people. He reminds us that this is a fulfilment of the great hopes of the founding fathers of the Jewish race – a fulfilment of the faith of Abraham.
It's something that goes beyond the old though – the mission of Jesus is that the Gentiles may glorify God. It is so that we, who stand outside the tradition and genealogy of the Jewish people, may come to faith in the God who has revealed himself through them.
But I'd like to return to that word hope. Isaiah's hearers needed something, or somebody, to sort then out and bring them hope in the darkness. The ordinary people who flocked to John the Baptist placed their hopes in the grace and forgiveness of God, even as the religious leaders singularly failed to do so.
And us, what do we hope for? A mended roof? A full church? A healthy bank balance? Even a full-time vicar? Maybe, dare we, ask the question that applied to the Pharisees and Sadducees: in what or who are we hoping? We are offered in Christ the hope of “all joy and peace” - but do we really need it? Do our current straits place us in somewhere where we need to rely on divinely-offered hope?
At the risk of being contentious, if we are happy and content with the status quo, or think that we can solve our own problems, then we do not need hope at all. But if we want our church to be making a difference, both in the village and on the estate we really do need hope.
We need it because the only way forward lies in raising our game, to use a sporting adage. It will require leaving behind some (or more than some) of our comfort. It will involve change, because change is an integral feature of growth.
I think we all know that already, in our heads if not yet in our hearts, but like the difference between regret and repentance it requires action, not just acknowledgement.
Action in using our facilities like the Old Schools to better effect.
In learning and growing in our faith so that we can see and understand how we need to share it with others.
In considering the messages our practices send to those outside our fellowship, and respond accordingly.
And I use the plural, “us” and “our” advisedly, because it can't, won't and shouldn't all come from the vicar. I know that we aren't all going to agree. That's the only thing that is a certainty!
As we prepare for Christmas, the celebration of the Incarnation, the power of heaven infiltrating the grubby realm of humanity let's prepare to grasp, and to respond, to the reasons why the Son of God came. Why it matters. Why we need to respond, individually and corporately.
As God made promises to the Patriarchs to spread his name to the Gentiles so that they would give him glory, so we need to hold on to that promise – that God will be faithful. Faithful in his promise to those outside our circle, our Church family, to our own Gentiles, if you like. That they may come to glorify God for his mercy too.
And to do that we really will need to hope and trust in the power of God, in our place and in our time.
May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give us a spirit of unity among ourselves as we follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth we may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Wednesday, 5 December 2007
Comparison Shopping
It probably says more about me than I'd like to admit, but I took some time this morning (on my day off) to do a little comparison shopping, both getting an idea of prices and engaging in some real spending. And I really rather enjoyed it. Sad, or what?
I'm still in a state of mild shock after a visit to a retail park for some computer gubbins.
I was after decent scanner/copier, a LAN card and a long Ethernet cable (10-15m). I couldn't do a price comparison for the Gigabit LAN card, but the others are rather telling.
Samsung SCX4200 scanner, mono laser copier/printer*:
PC World: £129.98
Staples: £109.99
Belkin 15m CAT6 cable:
PC World: at least £39.99 (labeling somewhat unclear)
Staples: £27.99
£32 difference for 10 minutes research! I can't really understand why there should be such a difference, other than one shop, which busily and loudly touts itself as the place to go for all things computer-related is busy ripping off consumers on peripherals. I didn't do it this time but Maplin seem consistently on the cheaper side too, as long as you know what you're looking for, and maybe that's the key phrase here.
A salutary reminder of the value of just taking a little time. (Perhaps I should go and find a nice book/DVD/RPG...?)
* why this? Firstly I had to leave behind my SCX4100 at my last job - a similar machine that had come as a freebie with a Colour Laser copier. Secondly because I've already got a perfectly decent, if venerable colour inkjet (HP845c). I'm not sure I'd organise it this way if I were starting from scratch, but I'm not.
I'm still in a state of mild shock after a visit to a retail park for some computer gubbins.
I was after decent scanner/copier, a LAN card and a long Ethernet cable (10-15m). I couldn't do a price comparison for the Gigabit LAN card, but the others are rather telling.
Samsung SCX4200 scanner, mono laser copier/printer*:
PC World: £129.98
Staples: £109.99
Belkin 15m CAT6 cable:
PC World: at least £39.99 (labeling somewhat unclear)
Staples: £27.99
£32 difference for 10 minutes research! I can't really understand why there should be such a difference, other than one shop, which busily and loudly touts itself as the place to go for all things computer-related is busy ripping off consumers on peripherals. I didn't do it this time but Maplin seem consistently on the cheaper side too, as long as you know what you're looking for, and maybe that's the key phrase here.
A salutary reminder of the value of just taking a little time. (Perhaps I should go and find a nice book/DVD/RPG...?)
* why this? Firstly I had to leave behind my SCX4100 at my last job - a similar machine that had come as a freebie with a Colour Laser copier. Secondly because I've already got a perfectly decent, if venerable colour inkjet (HP845c). I'm not sure I'd organise it this way if I were starting from scratch, but I'm not.
Tuesday, 4 December 2007
Why Chocolate Advent Calendars are Evil
In an idle moment I've discovered that my college friend Andy''s blog has been laid to rest. I hadn't noticed for a few months, what with the move and having never managed to get a working RSS feed. (Memo to self: set up RSS for this.)
What I did discover is this - in a sort of follow-on endeavour. Read it. It's good and it's thought-provoking, (as well as reminding me, along with other recent events and reading, that I'm really rather theologically and intellectually lazy and lacking in rigour. However, it's one thing to recognise it, it's another to know what to do about it!)
What I did discover is this - in a sort of follow-on endeavour. Read it. It's good and it's thought-provoking, (as well as reminding me, along with other recent events and reading, that I'm really rather theologically and intellectually lazy and lacking in rigour. However, it's one thing to recognise it, it's another to know what to do about it!)
Monday, 3 December 2007
To Be or Not To Be Faithful
One of David's marvellous poems: a fine start to the week.
To Be or Not To Be FaithfulSeveral anthologies of David's poetry are available. Please contact me for details.
Waking from sleep, and not before time,
the alarm has called me to get ready
to join the no beginning and no ending
duty and joy.
The church bells invite one and all
to assemble in
the ever-renewing life form
into which the self-giving Lord pours himself,
Having, apparently, no regard
for the risks involved
or the untidiness created
by entrusting himself to
an in-the-body-experience,
indwelt humanity.
There is, nevertheless,
always the freedom
to turn him down and throw him out,
perhaps allowing him shelter
in some sort of out of sight annexe,
As if hunger, need, fulfilment
and his sheer attractiveness
can ever be completely laid to one side.
© David Grieve 2007
Saturday, 1 December 2007
And another thing they don't tell you....
Two more illustrations today about the dangers of presumption. Not a grumble, merely the reflections of a green vicar... to remind me and to help any others!
Firstly on a visit to church to do some last minute Advent preparation the comment along the lines of "you do know about so-and-so who broke her hip a few weeks ago?"
Well, no actually. The vicar is, as usual, the last person to know. This is the story of my life, it is nothing new, since on many occasions in several churches and universities I've been faced with a question about why I wasn't at such-and-such's party, leaving me blank-faced and saying "what party?" The only recommendation I can make is to behave as we do do in the Prayer of Humble Access, "we do not presume..." I'd rather have 5 phone calls repeating the information than not know.
Then a chance conversation had by GLW in the florist's while she was picking up some oasis for the Advent wreath the children will be making. "A (former vicar) always orders a Christmas tree for church from me. If you want one this year get your husband to call me today..."
Now, I have to confess, I had never asked about Christmas trees. My curacy ended awhile ago, and was followed by the events in ME19, so any memories from there are a little hazy, and, after all, a group has already volunteered to decorate the church for Christmas "as usual" and muggins here had not thought to ask quite what that might normally entail. To be honest I'm such a Puritan at times that a lack of Christmas tree in church would probably pass un-noticed. I just hope we don't end up with two!
Perhaps all this is why other clergy friends are already getting sick of Christmas, even before Advent has started. Perhaps they actually know what to do!
Oh well, at least I've got the carols chosen for our Carols on Campus on Dec 11th, even if I will only have half an hour to get clear from a funeral that's just come in...
Firstly on a visit to church to do some last minute Advent preparation the comment along the lines of "you do know about so-and-so who broke her hip a few weeks ago?"
Well, no actually. The vicar is, as usual, the last person to know. This is the story of my life, it is nothing new, since on many occasions in several churches and universities I've been faced with a question about why I wasn't at such-and-such's party, leaving me blank-faced and saying "what party?" The only recommendation I can make is to behave as we do do in the Prayer of Humble Access, "we do not presume..." I'd rather have 5 phone calls repeating the information than not know.
Then a chance conversation had by GLW in the florist's while she was picking up some oasis for the Advent wreath the children will be making. "A (former vicar) always orders a Christmas tree for church from me. If you want one this year get your husband to call me today..."
Now, I have to confess, I had never asked about Christmas trees. My curacy ended awhile ago, and was followed by the events in ME19, so any memories from there are a little hazy, and, after all, a group has already volunteered to decorate the church for Christmas "as usual" and muggins here had not thought to ask quite what that might normally entail. To be honest I'm such a Puritan at times that a lack of Christmas tree in church would probably pass un-noticed. I just hope we don't end up with two!
Perhaps all this is why other clergy friends are already getting sick of Christmas, even before Advent has started. Perhaps they actually know what to do!
Oh well, at least I've got the carols chosen for our Carols on Campus on Dec 11th, even if I will only have half an hour to get clear from a funeral that's just come in...
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Conviction: Gospel, Political or otherwise
A general sentiment from last weeks CU mission seemed to be, when expressed in prayers at least, that conviction is good. More specifically it was the "conviction of sin" and the implicit follow-ons, repentance and salvation. And I have no problems with that, although I must express slight qualms about the phrase which I'm sure I heard, but may have created - the Gospel of Conviction.
Whether I've made it up or not, it's a rather worrying phrase - a linking of "the good news" with guilt. Guilt can be a pretty poor motivator - but that's for another post...
As I sit and ponder here it strikes me that conviction can be addressed in several ways. We have the phrase about having the courage of our convictions, something which I was wresting with a little this week. If I truly believe that change for the parish lies in the engagement with the majority population group who have very little to do with the church then I need to respond, and to encourage the congregations to respond too. The difficulty of course is that the changes of practice, and maybe more importantly changes in attitude, which might be required would certainly lead us out of our "comfort zone" and further into a "risky adventure" of faith.
It takes a serious degree of courage to step out from the familiar and the expected. It doesn't matter whether it's personal or institutional, it still means being open to dramatic change.
One illustration of this I discovered browsing the BBC news website earlier this week about the plans of the One Laptop Per Child initiative. It would appear that this laudable goal is being stifled, perhaps inevitably, by politics.
The words of Professor Bender might well apply to any number of issues, not least the Church of England, at both a national as well as a parochial level. It partly explains why I sometimes feel that the only way ahead for the Church of England is for it to die. As the example of the Cross shows, for Resurrection there has a to first be a death - with all the pain and grief that comes as part of the package. Another risky question is to ask whether that death has to be a lingering one or should be speeded up by an act of mercy.
The Gospel reading on Sunday (Luke 23: 33-43) reminded us of Jesus words on the Cross to the thief who had the clarity of insight, maybe spurred by the impending inevitability of death, to recognise Jesus for who he was, so prompting him to ask "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus' promise of paradise didn't remove the thief from his cross. It didn't stop the suffering - but it did transform the context.
Any comforts we might take from our faith, that the victory is won, still take their place within the context of an ongoing struggle. The greater need for wisdom lies in knowing which parts of the struggle are relevant in the economy of the Kingdom, and which are actually a waste of resources. To prune the butterfly bush down to the stump each winter looks cruel and excessive, but without it it fails to grow properly. Even the act recorded in John 19: 31-33 of the soldiers breaking the legs of the crucified is an act of mercy. It's not an infliction of needless pain but a means of speeding a long-drawn out death.
If I truly am convinced (convicted) about the rightness of a fact or a course of action then that needs to be set in motion. Conviction of sin, or of the rectitude of a policy or statement, demands a response. It is not enough to say something, but to do something. The thief on the cross expressed it as a request. Overseas governments need to honour the promises they have made to the OLPC program.
To enable action there has to be a reason, an incentive, a "carrot". I have to not only be convinced that a radical change of course is necessary, but to have a clear vision of the benefits, enough to outweigh any personal or institutional resistance to such a change. That is my stumbling block.
Likewise, my worry about the "Gospel of Conviction" that can so easily be heard in Mission activity, is that too often it becomes closer to the declaration of guilt and judgement by a court, where the condemned has nothing appealing to look forward to, rather than acknowledging that for many people they are already weighed down by a conviction of guilt, real or imagined. The Gospel has to offer a means of transformation and escape. It has truly to be seen as Good News. And maybe for that we need to work rather harder at unpacking the value and relevance, in contemporary terms, of the salvation, the healing of the human-divine and human-human relationships, brought about by the life, death and resurrection of the Son of God, and rather les on the burden of sin.
Whether I've made it up or not, it's a rather worrying phrase - a linking of "the good news" with guilt. Guilt can be a pretty poor motivator - but that's for another post...
As I sit and ponder here it strikes me that conviction can be addressed in several ways. We have the phrase about having the courage of our convictions, something which I was wresting with a little this week. If I truly believe that change for the parish lies in the engagement with the majority population group who have very little to do with the church then I need to respond, and to encourage the congregations to respond too. The difficulty of course is that the changes of practice, and maybe more importantly changes in attitude, which might be required would certainly lead us out of our "comfort zone" and further into a "risky adventure" of faith.
It takes a serious degree of courage to step out from the familiar and the expected. It doesn't matter whether it's personal or institutional, it still means being open to dramatic change.
One illustration of this I discovered browsing the BBC news website earlier this week about the plans of the One Laptop Per Child initiative. It would appear that this laudable goal is being stifled, perhaps inevitably, by politics.
"You've got to be big, you've got to be bold. And what has happened is that there has been an effort to say 'don't take any risks - just do something small, something incremental'."
"It feels safe but by definition what you are ensuring is that nothing happens."
The words of Professor Bender might well apply to any number of issues, not least the Church of England, at both a national as well as a parochial level. It partly explains why I sometimes feel that the only way ahead for the Church of England is for it to die. As the example of the Cross shows, for Resurrection there has a to first be a death - with all the pain and grief that comes as part of the package. Another risky question is to ask whether that death has to be a lingering one or should be speeded up by an act of mercy.
The Gospel reading on Sunday (Luke 23: 33-43) reminded us of Jesus words on the Cross to the thief who had the clarity of insight, maybe spurred by the impending inevitability of death, to recognise Jesus for who he was, so prompting him to ask "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus' promise of paradise didn't remove the thief from his cross. It didn't stop the suffering - but it did transform the context.
Any comforts we might take from our faith, that the victory is won, still take their place within the context of an ongoing struggle. The greater need for wisdom lies in knowing which parts of the struggle are relevant in the economy of the Kingdom, and which are actually a waste of resources. To prune the butterfly bush down to the stump each winter looks cruel and excessive, but without it it fails to grow properly. Even the act recorded in John 19: 31-33 of the soldiers breaking the legs of the crucified is an act of mercy. It's not an infliction of needless pain but a means of speeding a long-drawn out death.
If I truly am convinced (convicted) about the rightness of a fact or a course of action then that needs to be set in motion. Conviction of sin, or of the rectitude of a policy or statement, demands a response. It is not enough to say something, but to do something. The thief on the cross expressed it as a request. Overseas governments need to honour the promises they have made to the OLPC program.
To enable action there has to be a reason, an incentive, a "carrot". I have to not only be convinced that a radical change of course is necessary, but to have a clear vision of the benefits, enough to outweigh any personal or institutional resistance to such a change. That is my stumbling block.
Likewise, my worry about the "Gospel of Conviction" that can so easily be heard in Mission activity, is that too often it becomes closer to the declaration of guilt and judgement by a court, where the condemned has nothing appealing to look forward to, rather than acknowledging that for many people they are already weighed down by a conviction of guilt, real or imagined. The Gospel has to offer a means of transformation and escape. It has truly to be seen as Good News. And maybe for that we need to work rather harder at unpacking the value and relevance, in contemporary terms, of the salvation, the healing of the human-divine and human-human relationships, brought about by the life, death and resurrection of the Son of God, and rather les on the burden of sin.
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
A little intimidating...
I know that I'm often a little slow in writing the obligatory "Christmas Letter" but receiving 2 today, before Advent even begins, and from fellow clergy families, is a little intimidating!
I mean, it's nice to hear the news, but even so... :)
I mean, it's nice to hear the news, but even so... :)
In the absence of a piece of theological reflection...
... which I've left on my USB flash drive in the Chaplaincy, here's a brief record (no pun intended) of my current listening.
For the first time in months I bought a new CD recently - or more specifically a double CD, Long Road Out Of Eden, by The Eagles. It's a slightly scary thought that I'm rather too young to appreciate much of the original material they did, before they all got fed up with each other, but I do have fond memories of their "Best of.." collection. So, having heard that, and a litle artsy piece on Radio 4 I went out of my way to buy the new one.
In some ways I was vaguely disappointed at first, since I'm not so hot on the "sorry girl it's over" sorts of songs which seem to dominate the first CD, but with further thought I rather like it. The wistfulness of tracks like "No more walks in the wood" and "I love to watch a woman dance" are rather good, especially the first, with hints of regret at the past that has gone (maybe something corporately felt by the band?) But if I don't like some of the "lovey" stuff, then I do appreciate the questioning and gentle world-weariness of "Business as Usual" and "Frail Grasp of the Big Picture" How could I fail to appreciate words like this?
Best of all, by a long way to my mind, is the title track and its questioning of American involvement in Iraq. Ten minutes of beautiful production and insightful lyrics. Listen to it and make you own mind up.
Is it the best thing since sliced bread? No. But it mixes easy melodic listening with biting insight, perfect guitar with a touch of faded hippydom and weighs in at a very reasonable price.
But it's fine to agree with the critics of the nation the world loves to hate... can we see the planks in our own eyes? Wwe too, are on the Long Road Out of Eden, and probably driving away...
For the first time in months I bought a new CD recently - or more specifically a double CD, Long Road Out Of Eden, by The Eagles. It's a slightly scary thought that I'm rather too young to appreciate much of the original material they did, before they all got fed up with each other, but I do have fond memories of their "Best of.." collection. So, having heard that, and a litle artsy piece on Radio 4 I went out of my way to buy the new one.
In some ways I was vaguely disappointed at first, since I'm not so hot on the "sorry girl it's over" sorts of songs which seem to dominate the first CD, but with further thought I rather like it. The wistfulness of tracks like "No more walks in the wood" and "I love to watch a woman dance" are rather good, especially the first, with hints of regret at the past that has gone (maybe something corporately felt by the band?) But if I don't like some of the "lovey" stuff, then I do appreciate the questioning and gentle world-weariness of "Business as Usual" and "Frail Grasp of the Big Picture" How could I fail to appreciate words like this?
"And we pray to our Lord, who we know is American.
He reigns from on high; he speaks to us through middlemen.
And he shepherds his flock
We sing out and praise his name.
He supports us in war; he presides over football games.
And the right will prevail; all our troubles shall be resolved.
We hold faith above all, unless there's money or sex involved."
Best of all, by a long way to my mind, is the title track and its questioning of American involvement in Iraq. Ten minutes of beautiful production and insightful lyrics. Listen to it and make you own mind up.
Is it the best thing since sliced bread? No. But it mixes easy melodic listening with biting insight, perfect guitar with a touch of faded hippydom and weighs in at a very reasonable price.
But it's fine to agree with the critics of the nation the world loves to hate... can we see the planks in our own eyes? Wwe too, are on the Long Road Out of Eden, and probably driving away...
Sunday, 25 November 2007
A sad reflection?
No, I'm not particularly upset (although some might say I was a sad individual!) In fact I wonder if a reflection can have any emotions after all, since it is virtual. But that's not the point either.
I was just idling away the time reading something on the BBC web-site, to wit, some information trailing the new BBC series "The Blair Years" which starts tonight (2215 GMT). Information about how the former PMs faith influenced his politics.
What prompted my musings was the following quote:
Now, I'm very aware that I can be cynical. But I find it a very sad reflection on the state of our collective identity, and "health" as a nation, if Ming is right. Then again, the prevailing post-modern mantra that 'if it works for you then it's right' is surely, if nothing else, a triumph of pragmatism over conviction. A bit like those who pinch lead off church roofs in pursuit of fast money. Most of my congregation can't really get their heads around the phenomenon, so it must be a generational thing. I expect nothing less, they find it hard to conceive that anyone would do such a thing. Another away win for pragmatism...
I was just idling away the time reading something on the BBC web-site, to wit, some information trailing the new BBC series "The Blair Years" which starts tonight (2215 GMT). Information about how the former PMs faith influenced his politics.
What prompted my musings was the following quote:
The public might have been less willing to give him the triumph of three consecutive general election victories if they'd known the extent to which ethical values would overshadow pragmatism," Sir Menzies said.
Now, I'm very aware that I can be cynical. But I find it a very sad reflection on the state of our collective identity, and "health" as a nation, if Ming is right. Then again, the prevailing post-modern mantra that 'if it works for you then it's right' is surely, if nothing else, a triumph of pragmatism over conviction. A bit like those who pinch lead off church roofs in pursuit of fast money. Most of my congregation can't really get their heads around the phenomenon, so it must be a generational thing. I expect nothing less, they find it hard to conceive that anyone would do such a thing. Another away win for pragmatism...
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
A Good Day
I don't think I have ever received a phone call from the Police before. Not, you might think, very good news.
Now, there are very few things which are unadulterated good news. After all, even the Good News, involved death, grief and separation as a necessary part of the package. So, having more of the South Aisle awash on a rainy day cannot be construed as especially good.
But for the ladies and gentlemen of the Northamptonshire Constabulary (or whatever their "correct" term may be) to nab five individuals and their stolen van red-, or should I say, lead-handed, is most definitely good news!
So thank you to the eagle-eyed member of the community for your vigilance, and when I know who you are I will be turning on your doorstep to say that personally.
Well, I did pray half-seriously yesterday morning for some angles to be stationed on the roof, and some of my clergy colleagues joined in prayer later in the day too. Now all I need to pray for is a dry spell... or some more buckets.
Now, there are very few things which are unadulterated good news. After all, even the Good News, involved death, grief and separation as a necessary part of the package. So, having more of the South Aisle awash on a rainy day cannot be construed as especially good.
But for the ladies and gentlemen of the Northamptonshire Constabulary (or whatever their "correct" term may be) to nab five individuals and their stolen van red-, or should I say, lead-handed, is most definitely good news!
So thank you to the eagle-eyed member of the community for your vigilance, and when I know who you are I will be turning on your doorstep to say that personally.
Well, I did pray half-seriously yesterday morning for some angles to be stationed on the roof, and some of my clergy colleagues joined in prayer later in the day too. Now all I need to pray for is a dry spell... or some more buckets.
Monday, 19 November 2007
Who? Me?
I've decided to de-anonymise myself. St. Z's will still be afforded a degree of protection, as will EMUT. Continuing bloggers already know me, and anyone who tries hard enough can get round the pseudonymity, so what's the point? The vast majority of my readers (who understand this strange twin beast of faith and church) don't find anything new, anyway.
Do they mean me?
Went to a very worthwhile "Bishops' day for Clergy" today - the EMUT one, not the Small University City one. I had a New Incumbents Induction thing last week (I may have commented on it) at which I expressed mild concern about appearing to be the youngest there. So today I was very politely asked my age by the DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands, I you must know)... which I did - after all it may be impolite to ask a lady her age, but it may also be impolite to refuse when asked!
Her response was one of near-delight. Something like "O good, we may have to have a talk..."
It turns out that I could help in their drive toscare-off, sorry, to recruit "young ordinands." I do not think of myself as "young" - but the diocese apparently do. "Anyone under 45."
Oh deary, deary me....
Her response was one of near-delight. Something like "O good, we may have to have a talk..."
It turns out that I could help in their drive to
Oh deary, deary me....
Sunday, 18 November 2007
Lest we forget
Remembrance has been and gone again for another year - and this year was the first time I've conducted such events on my own and in a church. First there was the curacy and then there was the whole business of being building-less.
So here are some points as a sort of aide-memoire and reflection, which I hope I'll remember, and may be useful for any soon-to-be-first-time incumbents.
First though: the general principle. It will be presumed that you, as the vicar, know what you are doing. This is a double-edged sword. It reflects the community's trust in you, while at the same time making it potentially difficult to actually ask. Despite the fact that nearly all churches will claim to be the same everywhere is different, of course.
If you have a 10'o'clock service and the expectation of being at the War Memorial for 11am, the following may be of use. (Bearing in mind the perils involved with changing anything, which is a general clerical hazard in the first place!)
- do you really need all three readings? Could you get by with only two, especially bearing in mind that the sermon may well need to be truncated?
- unless your channels of communication are especially good (text messages from the choir, perhaps) don't rely on the Sunday School being able to hear the bell sounded during the consecration. In fact, do you need Sunday School that day?
- can you escape with shorter hymns (leaving aside some of the potential theological questions inherent in some of the words)?
Maybe the biggest question of all: Given the emotional resonances for many in the congregation and very real memories of friends, parents and loved ones' involvement and sacrifice in conflict (although these are generally declining as a simple function of ageing) how do you sensitively address the issue that Remembrance Sunday is not a Christian Commemoration per se? The Lectionary and Calendar make passing reference in allowing variation of the Collect, but the readings are part of the "Before Advent" series.
But maybe that's for another day.
So here are some points as a sort of aide-memoire and reflection, which I hope I'll remember, and may be useful for any soon-to-be-first-time incumbents.
First though: the general principle. It will be presumed that you, as the vicar, know what you are doing. This is a double-edged sword. It reflects the community's trust in you, while at the same time making it potentially difficult to actually ask. Despite the fact that nearly all churches will claim to be the same everywhere is different, of course.
If you have a 10'o'clock service and the expectation of being at the War Memorial for 11am, the following may be of use. (Bearing in mind the perils involved with changing anything, which is a general clerical hazard in the first place!)
- do you really need all three readings? Could you get by with only two, especially bearing in mind that the sermon may well need to be truncated?
- unless your channels of communication are especially good (text messages from the choir, perhaps) don't rely on the Sunday School being able to hear the bell sounded during the consecration. In fact, do you need Sunday School that day?
- can you escape with shorter hymns (leaving aside some of the potential theological questions inherent in some of the words)?
Maybe the biggest question of all: Given the emotional resonances for many in the congregation and very real memories of friends, parents and loved ones' involvement and sacrifice in conflict (although these are generally declining as a simple function of ageing) how do you sensitively address the issue that Remembrance Sunday is not a Christian Commemoration per se? The Lectionary and Calendar make passing reference in allowing variation of the Collect, but the readings are part of the "Before Advent" series.
But maybe that's for another day.
Saturday, 17 November 2007
Mixed Blessings
Isn't it strange how many ways and contexts there are in which the word blessing or blessed crops up? Maybe more often than not it can be a euphemism or a platitude. To a sneeze we reply "Bless you!" We use it to substitute for something like blasted or damned, and make the problem sound like it's welcome. I'm not quite sure of the reasoning, unless it's simple Bowdlerism. Possibly trying to sanctify something and bring it to the attention of the power of God. Maybe Jesus is the ultimate Blessed Nuisance - certainly in the eyes of the First Century Religious Establishment, and maybe even for ourselves and our own.
As a priest I am empowered to pronounce God's blessing. It isn't mine to give after all... I stand in loco Deorum. (I trust my Latin is up to scratch!) Which makes me wonder why we use oils blessed by the bishop (or should it be blessed through the agency of the bishop?) when a word uttered by the priest would do. I suspect it's a matter of ecclesiology and a recognition of the primacy of the bishop.
In the last couple of weeks I've had two very different offices of blessing to perform, both at relatively short notice and both slightly euphemistic in origin. One for and over a relationship in what is technically referred to as an Act of Dedication after a Civil Marriage - a most definitely desired relationship between two persons. And the other over an unwanted presence of relationship in the form of a house blessing - a request for an outpouring of God's cleansing power and the eviction of any other-worldly and negatively-orientated presence.
In both cases they were "firsts", if you don't count trying to bless my previous Vicarage - and even that was more often in the form of words closer to those allegedly used by Cromwell to dismiss the Rump Parliament: "Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!"
Interestingly enough my curacy prepared me for neither of these eventualities, despite proving of great general value.
However, I suppose I should depart from this virtual location - and head back to the more practised, but rather less-interesting, act of sermon preparation...
As a priest I am empowered to pronounce God's blessing. It isn't mine to give after all... I stand in loco Deorum. (I trust my Latin is up to scratch!) Which makes me wonder why we use oils blessed by the bishop (or should it be blessed through the agency of the bishop?) when a word uttered by the priest would do. I suspect it's a matter of ecclesiology and a recognition of the primacy of the bishop.
In the last couple of weeks I've had two very different offices of blessing to perform, both at relatively short notice and both slightly euphemistic in origin. One for and over a relationship in what is technically referred to as an Act of Dedication after a Civil Marriage - a most definitely desired relationship between two persons. And the other over an unwanted presence of relationship in the form of a house blessing - a request for an outpouring of God's cleansing power and the eviction of any other-worldly and negatively-orientated presence.
In both cases they were "firsts", if you don't count trying to bless my previous Vicarage - and even that was more often in the form of words closer to those allegedly used by Cromwell to dismiss the Rump Parliament: "Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!"
Interestingly enough my curacy prepared me for neither of these eventualities, despite proving of great general value.
However, I suppose I should depart from this virtual location - and head back to the more practised, but rather less-interesting, act of sermon preparation...
Saturday, 3 November 2007
Well, things are beginning to hot up here in EMUT, with this week having my first external preaching slot, my first attempt at doing something a little more pro-active in the Chaplaincy, and that old mainstay of Anglican ministry - funerals - beginning to appear. Stir in Halloween and a Chaplaincy Guest Lecture and it's quite a potent mix.
St. Z's has a close link with the adjoining parish, which once upon a Victorian time was actually a daughter church, so in the great tradition of good neighbourliness when I was invited to preach there I jumped at the opportunity, and then fretted and struggled to produce something for All Souls - a celebration that I see as pastorally valuable but sometimes theologically dubious. An occasion for those who have lost a loved one (or any or, often, no apparent, faith) to seek solace and comfort in the bosom of the church they don't attend. Please excuse my slight cynicism as I betray my rather intolerant evangelical roots, but there's no point in denying it. Ultimately it all went rather well, a chance to act like a curate again, having a part, but not the lead role in the great drama of the liturgy. Several hours of fretting had produced two-thirds of a sermon, or to put it the other way, left one third inspiration required. And praise God he delivered and didn't let me down. I set great store on careful preparation, and know that I don't always reach the standard I set myself, but sometimes just "reading" the congregation can tell you so much, as can listening to the hymns chosen and the words used, especially if you've not been part of the process.
Chaplaincy can still only be described as mixed. The ministry of hospitality and encounter is rewarding, like the 2 dozen students who turned up for free tea in the foyer of the arts campus 5 minutes before I was going to wheel my trolley away. Good for community presence and feel-good factor, good for showing practical Christian love in action, but rather less, at least as yet, for meaningful engagement. Likewise, having, decided based on observation and a little discussion, to start up "Thursday Soulspace", providing an explicit chance for tea and chat followed by a simple opportunity for prayer together I sat alone in the Chaplaincy for a complete 2 hour period. It's easy to say that "it takes time" but rather harder to sit through it A bit like being "stood up" by the representative of a charismatic evangelical group of mixed repute busy trying to re-enter the Christian mainstream on Friday lunch time. The fact I was feeling distinctly unwell probably didn't help, but even so. (And to be charitable, they could have emailed an apology, but since the Wireless Access Point the Chaplaincy uses has gone down we wouldn't have received it!)
Halloween proved a delightful damp squib from the domestic viewpoint, although a house lakccng a sign and possessed of a decent gate, not to mention official No Trick or Treat posters, might have something to do with it. As it happened I was out (on my day off) at an excellent Chaplaincy Guest Lecture on "Sexuality, Scripture and Psychology". The turn out was better than I anticipated, but primarily drawn from the town rather then the uni, which is a shame. It would have been nice to have a good mix. The speaker, coming from the Roman Catholic tradition, took some material I'd heard before, but never really engaged with, and produced a compellingly-argued synthesis about relationships, both human and divine, in the context their application to the two great commandments. I'm now eagerly awaiting the book to be published next year by Gracewing. It reminded me that I don't really do enough "proper" theology.
On the funeral front I'm going to have to cope with twin issues of the long-term association of individuals with the former incumbent and their desire for his involvement alongside the fact of only working half-time and finding a list of willing substitute clergy for those occasions when I'm not available. It will work through, in time, just like the requests for marriages from outside the parish based on "pretty-building-syndrome."
Do I have enough hours in the day? No. Do I have enough energy? No. Do I have enough experience? Don't know. Am I enjoying it, and sure that God has called me here? Oh, yes!
St. Z's has a close link with the adjoining parish, which once upon a Victorian time was actually a daughter church, so in the great tradition of good neighbourliness when I was invited to preach there I jumped at the opportunity, and then fretted and struggled to produce something for All Souls - a celebration that I see as pastorally valuable but sometimes theologically dubious. An occasion for those who have lost a loved one (or any or, often, no apparent, faith) to seek solace and comfort in the bosom of the church they don't attend. Please excuse my slight cynicism as I betray my rather intolerant evangelical roots, but there's no point in denying it. Ultimately it all went rather well, a chance to act like a curate again, having a part, but not the lead role in the great drama of the liturgy. Several hours of fretting had produced two-thirds of a sermon, or to put it the other way, left one third inspiration required. And praise God he delivered and didn't let me down. I set great store on careful preparation, and know that I don't always reach the standard I set myself, but sometimes just "reading" the congregation can tell you so much, as can listening to the hymns chosen and the words used, especially if you've not been part of the process.
Chaplaincy can still only be described as mixed. The ministry of hospitality and encounter is rewarding, like the 2 dozen students who turned up for free tea in the foyer of the arts campus 5 minutes before I was going to wheel my trolley away. Good for community presence and feel-good factor, good for showing practical Christian love in action, but rather less, at least as yet, for meaningful engagement. Likewise, having, decided based on observation and a little discussion, to start up "Thursday Soulspace", providing an explicit chance for tea and chat followed by a simple opportunity for prayer together I sat alone in the Chaplaincy for a complete 2 hour period. It's easy to say that "it takes time" but rather harder to sit through it A bit like being "stood up" by the representative of a charismatic evangelical group of mixed repute busy trying to re-enter the Christian mainstream on Friday lunch time. The fact I was feeling distinctly unwell probably didn't help, but even so. (And to be charitable, they could have emailed an apology, but since the Wireless Access Point the Chaplaincy uses has gone down we wouldn't have received it!)
Halloween proved a delightful damp squib from the domestic viewpoint, although a house lakccng a sign and possessed of a decent gate, not to mention official No Trick or Treat posters, might have something to do with it. As it happened I was out (on my day off) at an excellent Chaplaincy Guest Lecture on "Sexuality, Scripture and Psychology". The turn out was better than I anticipated, but primarily drawn from the town rather then the uni, which is a shame. It would have been nice to have a good mix. The speaker, coming from the Roman Catholic tradition, took some material I'd heard before, but never really engaged with, and produced a compellingly-argued synthesis about relationships, both human and divine, in the context their application to the two great commandments. I'm now eagerly awaiting the book to be published next year by Gracewing. It reminded me that I don't really do enough "proper" theology.
On the funeral front I'm going to have to cope with twin issues of the long-term association of individuals with the former incumbent and their desire for his involvement alongside the fact of only working half-time and finding a list of willing substitute clergy for those occasions when I'm not available. It will work through, in time, just like the requests for marriages from outside the parish based on "pretty-building-syndrome."
Do I have enough hours in the day? No. Do I have enough energy? No. Do I have enough experience? Don't know. Am I enjoying it, and sure that God has called me here? Oh, yes!
Monday, 29 October 2007
Wrestling
I don't think it's because I still haven't got used to the change of day off, but today is proving rather hard. In fact I think there are two much more obvious reasons.
The first is the curious practice (in my experience) for LM's school to have an INSET day today. For all I know it might well make a lot of sense on the ground. Since the idea of punctuality, or even attendance, down there seems a slightly alien concept to some families, it might well be a case of making the most of a bad job. After all when HM Inspectors judge attendance figures why not cut you cloth to suit? Why have another bad day's figures when you can turn it to your advantage?
It might be good for the school (and LM seems to be enjoying herself) but it's not quite such good news when you work from home. Instead of the sounds of family and one toddler I have instead the sounds of family, one toddler and the addition of a (rather loud, exuberant and stroppy) school-daughter. I can barely contain my enthusiasm...
On top of that, although I feel I'm beginning to get into the swing of things parochial, I have two sets of sermons to prepare this week. The invitation to preach in the neighbouring parish in the middle of the week makes a lot of sense, as St Z's has good links in place, and I'm all in favour of sharing where possible. The only downside is that All Souls isn't really my cup of tea. As is so often the case the Lectionary readings are intended to bring comfort to the faithful, laced with challenge too; an issue multiplied by the perennial problem of the Church of England being "everyone's church" (whether they like it or not!)
This makes at least one of the readings uncomfortable, full as it is of the assurances of salvation and new birth as well as the readers rejoicing in their sufferings. Er.. yes. Right. Exactly. A perfect text for the recently bereaved parishioners. It's all an uncomfortable reminder that much scripture pre-supposes a given degree of faith among those it addresses - unless it's the judgements of doom from a certain constituency of a prophetic persuasion!
Time to be reminded about the wonderful definition of "priest" in the witty "Church-English Dictionary" - someone who gives God ten out of ten and humanity the benefit of the doubt.
If Jesus can do that for us, then I must, of course, do that for him. Just sometimes, well, it's a bit of a stretch, trying to pull the punches which are already there in the text...
Enough. Back to the task in hand, and maybe a cup of tea!
The first is the curious practice (in my experience) for LM's school to have an INSET day today. For all I know it might well make a lot of sense on the ground. Since the idea of punctuality, or even attendance, down there seems a slightly alien concept to some families, it might well be a case of making the most of a bad job. After all when HM Inspectors judge attendance figures why not cut you cloth to suit? Why have another bad day's figures when you can turn it to your advantage?
It might be good for the school (and LM seems to be enjoying herself) but it's not quite such good news when you work from home. Instead of the sounds of family and one toddler I have instead the sounds of family, one toddler and the addition of a (rather loud, exuberant and stroppy) school-daughter. I can barely contain my enthusiasm...
On top of that, although I feel I'm beginning to get into the swing of things parochial, I have two sets of sermons to prepare this week. The invitation to preach in the neighbouring parish in the middle of the week makes a lot of sense, as St Z's has good links in place, and I'm all in favour of sharing where possible. The only downside is that All Souls isn't really my cup of tea. As is so often the case the Lectionary readings are intended to bring comfort to the faithful, laced with challenge too; an issue multiplied by the perennial problem of the Church of England being "everyone's church" (whether they like it or not!)
This makes at least one of the readings uncomfortable, full as it is of the assurances of salvation and new birth as well as the readers rejoicing in their sufferings. Er.. yes. Right. Exactly. A perfect text for the recently bereaved parishioners. It's all an uncomfortable reminder that much scripture pre-supposes a given degree of faith among those it addresses - unless it's the judgements of doom from a certain constituency of a prophetic persuasion!
Time to be reminded about the wonderful definition of "priest" in the witty "Church-English Dictionary" - someone who gives God ten out of ten and humanity the benefit of the doubt.
If Jesus can do that for us, then I must, of course, do that for him. Just sometimes, well, it's a bit of a stretch, trying to pull the punches which are already there in the text...
Enough. Back to the task in hand, and maybe a cup of tea!
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
A word in season?
Words. Sometimes they're very useful things. Sometimes they're very powerful things. Sometimes they are best said, not written. Sometimes they won't come at all.
That's the problem with words. Without visual cues the written word can appear far sharper, un-blunted by the smile or the tone of delivery.
So, thank you, you know who you are, for a quiet word. In person, visible. I shall continue with these words, they are the sea I swim in, but I will remember a little more that I am being read close to home as well as far from it.
No offence is ever meant. I wouldn't deliberately be like that. But humour does have a sharp edge, and like any knife must be wielded with care. (Or maybe reserved for the truly anonymous blog - the one I rarely ever write in... )
All I need now are some decent, useful, observations to make!
That's the problem with words. Without visual cues the written word can appear far sharper, un-blunted by the smile or the tone of delivery.
So, thank you, you know who you are, for a quiet word. In person, visible. I shall continue with these words, they are the sea I swim in, but I will remember a little more that I am being read close to home as well as far from it.
No offence is ever meant. I wouldn't deliberately be like that. But humour does have a sharp edge, and like any knife must be wielded with care. (Or maybe reserved for the truly anonymous blog - the one I rarely ever write in... )
All I need now are some decent, useful, observations to make!
Monday, 15 October 2007
Swine time!
Not a reflection on anybody or anything, just something I found.
Me want (but not if I have to give up pork and cider!)
:)
Me want (but not if I have to give up pork and cider!)
:)
Saturday, 13 October 2007
Happy Birthday, St. Z's
Just back from a hugely enjoyable evening at St Z's, namely a Jazz Concert with the rather good "Swing Museum" - 2 guitars, double bass and violin, so shades of Django Reinhardt and Stefan Grapelli. An evening of popular music (of a certain era) in a full-ish church. Not a bad way to draw the 800th birthday celebrations towards a close.
I suppose the key observation is that people don't really change. Much of the audience tonight was the Youth Fellowship.... of 60 years ago. Not good for the future of the church, but I wonder what the folks of an equivalent youth group age of today would have thought to see them mucking around, despite grey hair and all the encumbrances of age? Maybe rather how I felt at 18 to have the privilege of an evening with Dad's old uni friends and discovering to my surprise and delight that they were no different to me and my friends.
If we can find a way for those "outside" to see something of the love of the people at St. Z's we'd be half way there. I don't know where the faith of the folks is, but who apart from God really does? All I know is that I'm called to love them, to spiritually lead them, and to learn from them. The Festival Week they've put on has been excellent (with slight reservations about the scope of the publicity). They have done everything without a vicar to hold their hands, and done it very well. I'm trying very hard to not take the credit, although I'm beginning to wonder whether they think I'm just trying to be humble. But the truth is I've actually had very little to do, other than show up and show love. To tell them they matter.
And having one of the younger members (read 60-something) announce during the interval that we'd won the rugby.... well, a good evening was had by one and all! :)
I suppose the key observation is that people don't really change. Much of the audience tonight was the Youth Fellowship.... of 60 years ago. Not good for the future of the church, but I wonder what the folks of an equivalent youth group age of today would have thought to see them mucking around, despite grey hair and all the encumbrances of age? Maybe rather how I felt at 18 to have the privilege of an evening with Dad's old uni friends and discovering to my surprise and delight that they were no different to me and my friends.
If we can find a way for those "outside" to see something of the love of the people at St. Z's we'd be half way there. I don't know where the faith of the folks is, but who apart from God really does? All I know is that I'm called to love them, to spiritually lead them, and to learn from them. The Festival Week they've put on has been excellent (with slight reservations about the scope of the publicity). They have done everything without a vicar to hold their hands, and done it very well. I'm trying very hard to not take the credit, although I'm beginning to wonder whether they think I'm just trying to be humble. But the truth is I've actually had very little to do, other than show up and show love. To tell them they matter.
And having one of the younger members (read 60-something) announce during the interval that we'd won the rugby.... well, a good evening was had by one and all! :)
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
Lead Astray
Given the recent epidemic in which enterprising individuals have taken it upon themselves to emulate Henry VIII and "mine" ecclesiastical buildings for their valuable base metals, I was unsurprised to be informed that St. Z's had received their attentions in the last few months.
I knew that the you could see daylight through the roof of the South Porch, but since it isn't used didn't think it was much of a problem at this juncture. I'd also been told that the situation elsewhere was in hand.
Guess what?
It rained this morning.
It rained a lot this morning.
I discovered not just that the roof of the South Aisle missed lead, but that I'd been mislead too.
You can guess what's coming, can't you?
I had presumed in my naivety that someone had at least laid some temporary sheeting! What a silly Priest-in-Charge I am! Instead Morning Prayer (for one) was conducted accompanied by the sound of many waters....
Laugh? I nearly (got) wet myself!
I knew that the you could see daylight through the roof of the South Porch, but since it isn't used didn't think it was much of a problem at this juncture. I'd also been told that the situation elsewhere was in hand.
Guess what?
It rained this morning.
It rained a lot this morning.
I discovered not just that the roof of the South Aisle missed lead, but that I'd been mislead too.
You can guess what's coming, can't you?
I had presumed in my naivety that someone had at least laid some temporary sheeting! What a silly Priest-in-Charge I am! Instead Morning Prayer (for one) was conducted accompanied by the sound of many waters....
Laugh? I nearly (got) wet myself!
Monday, 8 October 2007
Monday Musings
It's one of those days.
You know, when the sermon that you know you wrote some years back for this Sunday's readings can't be found on your computer.
When someone asks to be your friend on Facebook, and although you know the mutual friend, and a lot of their friends besides, you can't quite work out who it is, because teenagers look so different when you've not seen them for 4 years.
So I ambled down to look around my new Vestry. It's like a time-warp in there! Minute books from 30 years ago agreeing to the purchase of "Sound of Living Waters" while at the same time asking for the re-instatement of Matins because it disappeared after the last inter-regnum. Little booklets of Series 2 Evening Prayer. Sheet music that looks positively Antediluvian (before the flood, for non-Latin scholars!). A cupboard full of ASBs, which I suspect everyone's forgotten about. (And that's not mentioning the 2 manual electronic organ, the random pieces of masonry, service registers for the last 30 years and the stubs of a book of Marriage Certificates with no entries)!
Which means that the headline in the Diocesan email I just received was all the more amusing:
Sponsored BCP PalmReading
Well, it's one approach to getting into the Mind, Body and Spirit Fair, I suppose. I'll have to recommend it Steve Hollingshurst!
You know, when the sermon that you know you wrote some years back for this Sunday's readings can't be found on your computer.
When someone asks to be your friend on Facebook, and although you know the mutual friend, and a lot of their friends besides, you can't quite work out who it is, because teenagers look so different when you've not seen them for 4 years.
So I ambled down to look around my new Vestry. It's like a time-warp in there! Minute books from 30 years ago agreeing to the purchase of "Sound of Living Waters" while at the same time asking for the re-instatement of Matins because it disappeared after the last inter-regnum. Little booklets of Series 2 Evening Prayer. Sheet music that looks positively Antediluvian (before the flood, for non-Latin scholars!). A cupboard full of ASBs, which I suspect everyone's forgotten about. (And that's not mentioning the 2 manual electronic organ, the random pieces of masonry, service registers for the last 30 years and the stubs of a book of Marriage Certificates with no entries)!
Which means that the headline in the Diocesan email I just received was all the more amusing:
Sponsored BCP Palm
Well, it's one approach to getting into the Mind, Body and Spirit Fair, I suppose. I'll have to recommend it Steve Hollingshurst!
Thursday, 4 October 2007
Back in the frame
Well, here I am in the Chaplaincy Office on Park Campus of EMUT (East Midlands University Town), and thoroughly enjoying the delights of dual-role ministry. There's denying that it will get busier, but it's just so good to be back in the Uni environment!
Yesterday was the Freshers' Fair, traditionally the time when student organisations tout for business - and often with a bewildering range of societies available for the (in)discriminating student. This turned out to be a little different. While there was a marquee, broadcasting music that everyone but me seemed to know, which was hosting the sporting societies (including Cheerleading!) and information on nightclubs, the Sports Hall seemed to be more a case of business organisations touting for students - which struck me as a little bizarre.
The Christian Union had a presence, with a natty line in blue on blue sweatshirts (or were they hoddies?), as did the LGBT Society and the Afro-Carribean Students, but it felt far more like everyone else was trying to advise, recruit or sell their services. I'm still not quite sure what the Casino was doing there! I hope they were simply recruiting potential employees, but I didn't have the nous to follow that up at the time...
In retrospect it was all, I don't know, rather worthy: health and fitness, sexual health, teachers' unions trying to recruit, the local pizza delivery franchise, a little polite political activism, and a spattering of Green issues. Which raises the question - don't students actually have fun any more, beyond the sports field, the bar and the bed?
Maybe not. Especially as a news story caught my eye recently over the BBC website about how UK students work fewer hours per week than their European counterparts. Given that, you might expect there to be more of a social life, but with the Uni running a Part-Time Jobs Fair today, which recommends that students work up to 20 hours a week in part-time emplyment (thats right - 20 hours!) and coupled with the pressure to pay for tuition fees...
Then again, it might have a lot to do with the changing nature of universities. This isn't a high profile national institution, although I'm sure they'd be delighted if it was. Talking to folks suggests very strongly that a lot of students have come from little more than an hour away in any direction, not forgetting the increasing numbers of mature students and those living at home.
Well, I'd been told that EMUT is different!
Unfortunately, not all that different, though. Our Chaplaincy Centre is in an excellent location on the gournd floor of a hall of residence, very close to the Student Union. Which is good. Except that one of the residents directly above is playing rap at an aggressively high volume and it's beginning to get annoying... It might soon just be time to go walkabout and engage in random conversations and a ministry of presence - which in itself is wonderful - and certainly better than the nascent headache!
(Of course, as soon as I wrote that, God be praised, the "music" stopped! - and I found an interesting article to complement this rambling over on the good old Beeb.)
As to where faith fits into these ruminations, well I'll leave the theological refelctions till after lunch. If that is, I get no visitors wanting hospitality.
Yesterday was the Freshers' Fair, traditionally the time when student organisations tout for business - and often with a bewildering range of societies available for the (in)discriminating student. This turned out to be a little different. While there was a marquee, broadcasting music that everyone but me seemed to know, which was hosting the sporting societies (including Cheerleading!) and information on nightclubs, the Sports Hall seemed to be more a case of business organisations touting for students - which struck me as a little bizarre.
The Christian Union had a presence, with a natty line in blue on blue sweatshirts (or were they hoddies?), as did the LGBT Society and the Afro-Carribean Students, but it felt far more like everyone else was trying to advise, recruit or sell their services. I'm still not quite sure what the Casino was doing there! I hope they were simply recruiting potential employees, but I didn't have the nous to follow that up at the time...
In retrospect it was all, I don't know, rather worthy: health and fitness, sexual health, teachers' unions trying to recruit, the local pizza delivery franchise, a little polite political activism, and a spattering of Green issues. Which raises the question - don't students actually have fun any more, beyond the sports field, the bar and the bed?
Maybe not. Especially as a news story caught my eye recently over the BBC website about how UK students work fewer hours per week than their European counterparts. Given that, you might expect there to be more of a social life, but with the Uni running a Part-Time Jobs Fair today, which recommends that students work up to 20 hours a week in part-time emplyment (thats right - 20 hours!) and coupled with the pressure to pay for tuition fees...
Then again, it might have a lot to do with the changing nature of universities. This isn't a high profile national institution, although I'm sure they'd be delighted if it was. Talking to folks suggests very strongly that a lot of students have come from little more than an hour away in any direction, not forgetting the increasing numbers of mature students and those living at home.
Well, I'd been told that EMUT is different!
Unfortunately, not all that different, though. Our Chaplaincy Centre is in an excellent location on the gournd floor of a hall of residence, very close to the Student Union. Which is good. Except that one of the residents directly above is playing rap at an aggressively high volume and it's beginning to get annoying... It might soon just be time to go walkabout and engage in random conversations and a ministry of presence - which in itself is wonderful - and certainly better than the nascent headache!
(Of course, as soon as I wrote that, God be praised, the "music" stopped! - and I found an interesting article to complement this rambling over on the good old Beeb.)
As to where faith fits into these ruminations, well I'll leave the theological refelctions till after lunch. If that is, I get no visitors wanting hospitality.
Sunday, 30 September 2007
A Fresh Start
The last few weeks have been ones of stress, excitement, getting lost, being found, endings and beginnings. From My Little Part of Kent (MLPK) to East Midlands University Town (EMUT). From trying to build a church from scratch to inheriting a wonderful example of a village church (even if the village has long ago been swallowed up by the town!) From leading hymns and choruses on guitar to organ, choir and sung Common Worship (traditional language) Communion!
First, at least officially*, there was the Licensing and Induction, a wonderful example of splendid Anglican pomp, never quite straying into farce. The language of licenses, redolent of learning and genteel antiquity,
and so on. Not forgetting the organist trying to manfully cope with unfamiliar hymns, the robed choir, whose number failed to exceed the fingers of one hand, the not-quite-yet priest-in-charge's children whooping it up in the vestry with loud shouts and banging of doors in the quietest parts of the service.
And, of course, the wonderfully symbolic trip around the church, with parishioners and voluntereed others giving significant things.
All followed by a lovely bunfight and ordeal by tea for the Vicar's wife and offspring! Thank God for in-laws!
Against that the life of a University, even some of the more potentially wild students like the Freshers who will have spent their entire grant on beer before next week's out, against that... well, there's just no competition.
(*in other words I'd already been up to practical stuff at the Uni helping with the stress of enrolment... on the prospective students' parents).
There followed a week of trying to sort out a routine for my two-hattedness - a different day off for the first time in 6 years, which feels very weird. Discovering what had and had not been left behind by the previous incumbent (to wit one photocopier and a complete absence of Baptism records for a decade!) Trying to work out quite who does what, when and where, and why the Treasurer's job is a three-way job share, or ....
You get the picture.
Last Sunday, when the rubber really hit the road, I had very nice and relaxed 8am Communion, although it would have been nice to know that it was in the Lady Chapel rather sooner than 2 minutes before the service, and the interesting experience of sung CW traditional language Communion. It made a refreshing change, but at same time it was symptomatic of everything that I dislike about the dear old Church of England - obscure hymns, love of ritual, the dust of years! I have promised myself that I won't deliberately upset the applecart or suggest making any changes for a few months.
Which explains two things: why I am writing this blog (and other notes to myself) - so that I don't become so familiar with the way things are that I forget... and why I (and St. Z's - not it's real dedication) are remaining pretty much anonymous this time round!
First, at least officially*, there was the Licensing and Induction, a wonderful example of splendid Anglican pomp, never quite straying into farce. The language of licenses, redolent of learning and genteel antiquity,
"A Bishop of B commissary for this purpose of the Right Reverend Father in God D by divine permission Lord Bishop of E to our beloved in Christ F Greeting... "
and so on. Not forgetting the organist trying to manfully cope with unfamiliar hymns, the robed choir, whose number failed to exceed the fingers of one hand, the not-quite-yet priest-in-charge's children whooping it up in the vestry with loud shouts and banging of doors in the quietest parts of the service.
And, of course, the wonderfully symbolic trip around the church, with parishioners and voluntereed others giving significant things.
"Look, it's key! We never open that door."
"Bet you've never seen a more monstrous font in your life. Have some water."
"Here, have your Bible back. We don't have any printed less than 40 years ago."
"Do you ever use the oil stock?"
"Here's the liturgy book. Shame most of it was written last century" (the latter presented by a "Young Person" - who retired 2 years ago!)
All followed by a lovely bunfight and ordeal by tea for the Vicar's wife and offspring! Thank God for in-laws!
Against that the life of a University, even some of the more potentially wild students like the Freshers who will have spent their entire grant on beer before next week's out, against that... well, there's just no competition.
(*in other words I'd already been up to practical stuff at the Uni helping with the stress of enrolment... on the prospective students' parents).
There followed a week of trying to sort out a routine for my two-hattedness - a different day off for the first time in 6 years, which feels very weird. Discovering what had and had not been left behind by the previous incumbent (to wit one photocopier and a complete absence of Baptism records for a decade!) Trying to work out quite who does what, when and where, and why the Treasurer's job is a three-way job share, or ....
You get the picture.
Last Sunday, when the rubber really hit the road, I had very nice and relaxed 8am Communion, although it would have been nice to know that it was in the Lady Chapel rather sooner than 2 minutes before the service, and the interesting experience of sung CW traditional language Communion. It made a refreshing change, but at same time it was symptomatic of everything that I dislike about the dear old Church of England - obscure hymns, love of ritual, the dust of years! I have promised myself that I won't deliberately upset the applecart or suggest making any changes for a few months.
Which explains two things: why I am writing this blog (and other notes to myself) - so that I don't become so familiar with the way things are that I forget... and why I (and St. Z's - not it's real dedication) are remaining pretty much anonymous this time round!
The Name
So, here it is, the front page of a new blog. A new beginning, in all senses of the word.
The name? Well, that's not too difficult. Being a normal mortal I have but the one head, while being a Christian I also have the one head, the one I serve in Jesus Christ. But I have two jobs, two hats to wear, those of parish priest and university chaplain.
Two Hats, One Head.
The name? Well, that's not too difficult. Being a normal mortal I have but the one head, while being a Christian I also have the one head, the one I serve in Jesus Christ. But I have two jobs, two hats to wear, those of parish priest and university chaplain.
Two Hats, One Head.
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