Of Diggers, Gowns, Dreams and a Garage.

"It has been a quiet week in Lake Woebegon"... so spoke Garrison Keillor as his introduction to every laid back portrait of life in the fictional American Mid-West - but it certainly doesn't apply in my parts of East Midlands University Town!

It may well be that time of year when you might expect life to be slowing down a little for the summer (with the possible exception of weddings), but actually both Uni and Parish have got busier. I'm told that tiredness and lethargy are normal signs of bereavement, but that can't be the whole answer. Even shifting 2000+ inherited CDs feels like only a small part of it! There's simply a lot going on.

In the world of Higher Education there has been the delight of a Team Building Day Jolly at the local agricultural college. Lots of clay pigeon shooting, agricultural fork-lift driving, caterpillar-tracked diggers and an All Terrain Vehicle carefully rigged to ensure you went the opposite way to the one you steered! I'm not quite sure how, but our team won decisively on the day. (Note to Bishop: I hereby recommend that all stressed clergy should be given one free day a year of shooting, digging, lifting and driving in a similar way - an ideal pick-me-up!)

Then there was the fun of graduation, including managing to get a free lunch from the Management Centre (verdict: good, but could do better) and the exercise of my prerogative as a member of staff to robe up and process! So out came the scarlet and grey doctoral gown and the obligatory silly hat with tassel. I was interested to note that some of my fellow robed rogues looked somewhat uncomfortable in their regalia (so there is a benefit to robing in church on Sundays!) and even more interested to note that I appeared better qualified than at least two of the geographers with whom I was processing. (Memo to institution: find money to enable them to do more research, it will pay dividends!)

Add to that the unexpected invitation a couple of months back to apply for funding for Chaplaincy work and it has not only made a serious difference to the amount of money for projects (and hence need for management) but also the amount of time required for paperwork in putting together funding bids - which it would appear are not actually going to be read, so desperate was the division concerned to use up their budget at the end of their financial year! I'm just a little bemused at how much they seem to be throwing about, even to the extent of questioning half-seriously whether there's enough for the place to pick up a half-time Chaplaincy post cost...

Parish stuff is similarly busy - good weather, or the expectation of it, has brought to the fore a number of Saturday events: school fetes, churchyard cleaning parties, church garden parties. All of which have their place, but all of which squeeze the available hours tighter, especially as I try to be Daddy and Husband. I suppose I should also add Son to that and so cover a trip with LM on the train to Mum's to collect Dad's car, which I have inherited. I don't wish to sound ungrateful, and I know we will use it occasionally for holidays and long journeys, but if I wasn't inheriting some money too I wouldn't be able to run it. Still, I'm in no danger of leaving my little car unused - Big Blue is an automatic, and I really don't like automatics. Practical, sensible, hopefully reliable, dependable and all sorts of other things ending in -ible, but also dull.

In fact more than once I've wondered whether I'm beginning to have a little mid-life crisis. All I want to do is spend money that don't have, on things that I don't need and might never have the time to use. Humph.

Still, in my way of leaving the best, or at least the intended topic, until last... Yesterday I had a further piece of conclusive evidence of the existence and intervention of God. The church council meeting, which I felt not quite prepared for, and which would touch on areas I thought might be difficult. I was ready for a "full and frank exchange of views" as diplomatic communiques would put it. Well, I think there was, and it was far more constructive and far-reaching than I had expected. To go into discussion with questions about relatively minor issues about how to be most welcoming to visitors, as well as rather larger legal implications of making church accessible (that's physically accessible as in ramps etc rather than linguistically accessible) and to look for a coherent feel of direction for the future, well they're all potentially emotive and difficult issues.

All I can say is that God must have been at work, both then and in the past months, because out popped a resolution to move towards significant changes. I want to write more, but mustn't. Simply let the reader of ecclesiastical persuasion understand and apply their Faculties.

Recently our lectionary readings have had Jesus exhorting those who have ears to hear. I think we have. To one another, to those around us, and to him. And I am sure that my half-formed prayers have been heard, and my dreams and visions may just after all have not been the imaginings of my fevered brain.

The only immediate questions I need answered are what to do with all those CDs... and how on earth to get Big Blue in the garage. But if God can bring us, his people, together like he did yesterday, surely those are trivial.

The Sweetest Mystery*

So, Trinity Sunday - and the first blog entry for... too long. And rather like the day, indeed the phenomenon itself, I have no excuse to offer other than experience. The early church sought to interpret their experiences, and doing so 'invented' the Trinity, needing to find a word to express an as-yet un-named truth.

In a similar manner the word "busy-ness" must describe my recent dearth of postings. Not specifically too much "work" nor a lack of opportunity, but instead the lack of energy, inspiration and motivation, all of whom are fellow-travellers with that strange beast known as Real Life.

After all, there are plenty of good things to report such as the instigation of services in (near enough) the same language as the rest of the world two Sundays a month. Or the providential appearance of a young Orthodox priest on the staff of EMUT university and a willingness, nay a desire, to be involved in Chaplaincy. There are birthdays to report, a sixth, and a 'significant' one, beginning in a number greater than 3 and less than 5 and ending in a zero. Then there's the re-engagement of the creative brain with the community that is Eshraval, or the new PCC, or... you get the picture.

However, in the mean time, I offer this, another of David's poetic takes on life and the life of faith:

TRINITY SUNDAY
        
         Nothing happened today.
         He was not born, nor led out to die.
         He did not rise nor ascend on high.
         He sent no Spirit upon the Way.

         Today he is.
         His eternity, not his event, we celebrate.
         Awesome to behold and contemplate,
         The God who is.

         No words can describe his measure,
         No metaphor fully explore
         The majesty we rightly adore
         And earthily treasure.

         Holy three times and more,
         Disclosed to us, withheld from us,
         Letting us glimpse, saving more for us,
         Deeper knowledge yet in store.

         How can we encapsulate in a sum
         The one who cannot be described,
         Yet who himself has fleshed and scribed,
         Who was and is and is to come?


(C) David Grieve

*bonus points will be awarded for giving me the name of the writer of the chorus of the same name!

Faith, Creativity and Loss

As I'm sure many of my long term readers will remember I am a fan of Role Playing Games, and, it must be siad, other related forms of creativity. Every so often I blog a few reflections on these, and how Christian life and faith interacts with them. Many of you might also remember how such creative writing often absorbs much, and possibly too much, of my spare time, both the odd moments and concentrated periods of the day off or quiet evenings. It is, no doubt, a form of therapy and relaxation. There have always been questions about where Christian faith sits with such a pastime - and many years ago I found myself under pressure from certain zealous fellow Christians to not only give it up but even go so far as to be told I needed deliverance ministry!

Nevertheless as we are made in the image of God, who surely possess the greatest possible of imaginations in conceiving the entire created order it seems totally consistent to engage that germ of creativity planted deep within each one of us. Individually the hardest issue for me is how I feel generally incapable of turning that to distinctly Christian ends, unless most simply expressed in the "how about we do this" sort of idea. (Ideas which I freely confess I often lack the means of bringing to completion!) Nevertheless, such ideas seem very shallow compared with the challenge of creating a complete virtual nation or world, combining my knowledge, both already known and learned along the way, with my profligate imagination. In two ways it's fair to say, in the language of the King James Bible, that such things are "vain imaginings." They are vain in the fact that they are not directed towards the glory of God in any other way than to employ the gifts and skills I possess - although if we were to judge all things by that criterion we could find ourselves in a dangerously joyless and staid world, somewhat like the mindset that can hold certain types of churches in its grasp! Likewise they are vain in the sense that I, and I suspect many other like-minded writers and sub-creators wish their work to be valued by others. I've siad before of the thrill of having some of my material published, if only so far in a fan-publication. But this is predominantly background to this post - which is as much a piece of personal therapy as theological reflection.

I am, at moment, grieving. Nothing as severe as the sense of loss brought about by the death of a family member or friend, but still a bereavement of sorts. Over the past few weeks I had come to the conclusion that it was time for me to reluctantly drop out of the Eshraval geofiction project, with which I've been associated since April 2006. I had stepped back, gone on holiday and realised that I actually wasn't missing it. I'd taken the laptop, expecting to do some creative writing and never actually turned it on. So yesterday, having spent several days trying to work out how to best withdraw, since my nation had had quite an important historical place in the world, if not in the present, I was prepared to formally resign, only to discover that there had, over the last few days been a very quick (to my mind) decision to scrub a lot of fundamental stuff and start again. (I might be over-stating the case as I haven't read everything posted over the last weeks, another indication of the time-eating nature of the hobby). Here was my golden chance to withdraw, with minimum disruption to the project.

However, my feelings are very mixed. Leave aside the fact despite being an Administrator nobody had actually bothered to contact me until quite late in the proceedings - to be fair I hadn't been able to pull my weight. Even leave aside a general, vague unease about some things over recent weeks. One of the hardest things will be the loss of relationships. I have never physically met any of the players, but feel I do know them, at least more than superficially, since we have talked of faith, politics, life and so on. But maybe other reflections are more important on a spiritual/conceptual level. And I don't think any are premeditated, either. It simply struck me as I was pondering over these things last night that although I'm the sort of person who rather likes fairly tightly defined boundaries within which to work, both in real life and in terms of creativity, that I was one of the founding group of people who'd shaped the game world. I wouldn't claim to be the most important by a long way, but I'd been there pretty much constantly.

Yet now, with a goodly number of different players and the dropping out of a lot of "old hands" there was, for lack of better words, a dissatisfaction with the way of things, leading to a decision to change them. It is, I suspect, a reflection of the fundamental human desire to be in control. To learn from the best of the past and create anew. To start again filled with hope. Which is all well and good - apart from the fact that we started again with hope a mere 9 months ago. I'm sure that the hope is that a good deal of the material can be transported to the next incarnation of the game, but the net effect is still that thousands of words, and hundreds of hours of creative effort has, at a stroke been rendered obsolete, even effectively declared worthless. And that hurts. When you write for pleasure, whether for possible publication or not, it is possible to salvage material. Indeed I have megabytes of materials on my hard drives for different RPG systems. I delight in re-reading them every so often, and may use bits of them again. What makes creativity special for me, particularly with Eshraval, is that it takes place in a co-operative environment. You cannot create a nation that feels in any degree real unless there are interactions with the wider world. Solo creativity cannot beat that. (Possibly here's a place for reflection to on the nature of God as Trinity, three interconnected and interdependent aspects in relationship...?)

I also wonder whether the latest "revision" and perceptions of it have something to do with relative age. I know that I was one of (if not the) oldest players. With age there are added responsibilities that younger players do not have, most often with regards to work and family commitments, and those inevitably colour things. What may seem only a small amount of effort to the sixth form or university student maybe very different for the "family man." I suspect that the same happens in our lives of faith too. For Esh at least I'm no longer sure I'm willing to invest the hours I did, especially when it seems so casually wiped away. (And that is not an established fact by any means). But now I'm beginning to drift, and I have work to do. Nevertheless this is still important.

Let's just say that this morning I'm a little sore. Aware of my inabilities and inefficiencies, that which I have not done which I feel I ought to have done, even if I couldn't. Wanting to return to a past which has now gone. Tempted to join in the latest great future - and fully aware that I really should sit out for a few months and then consider re-joining, yet actually feeling a degree of obligation towards friends and colleagues. Definitely bereavement of sorts.

If any fellow (ex-)Eshers out there are reading this know that I'll miss you, and it. In the mean time, I wonder quite where my creativity will lead me next?

Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn't

Being a short response on the latest travails of an archbishop.

It's the recurring problem of a leader, a hugely-intelligent and thoughtful leader, finding that actually all people want are soundbites and stereotypes.

Most of the population, and much of the press, it would seem, don't actually want to use their brains! Never mind the fact that the interview which precipitated all this comes on the back of a densely-worded and highly thoughtful 8000 word public lecture. Never mind the distinction between the principles of Sharia law and some of the rather heavy-handed punishments handed down by Islamic courts in some parts of the world.

Archbishop Rowan, and many Christians can't win: we try to engage with real issues with depth and sensitivity - and find that we're told we should stay out of them. Then in the next breath we're told to be more active in wider society and help find solutions, not problems.

As long as our answers are acceptable to the everyone else, that is. In which case they are not answers, simply mere affirmations.

There was someone else who found that as well: he was called Jesus.

A good start?

"...whenever you begin any good work, beg most earnestly of Him to perfect it..."

I'm very good at starting things, and pretty appalling at finishing them. I tend to sit fairly closely to the principle that most people are content with 75%, or even less, and therefore never claim perfection.

The passage which struck me this morning from the Rule of St Benedict is elementary. It is both simple and profound, and for someone like me, with a tendency to rush into things and forget the basics, is profoundly challenging.

To speak of beginning a good work also implies, to me, that we have an awareness of the nature of that work at the very outset. It is certainly true that we can have a very strong awareness of when something we are about to do is not good, selfish or even evil. Whether we can assess all the potentials of our works is, I think, less certain, as is a genuine grappling with starting a course of action which may be good, but about which we are unsure.

All the better then to engage in the second phrase, to beg of Him (God), "most earnestly to perfect it".

To commend good intentions to God seems pretty obvious, yet is still something I can easily fail to do. In the need to fulfil the regular commitments, the sermon or the meeting, the temptation remains to simply get on with it, and to trust that the God we serve in Jesus will bless it and bring it to fruition. And yet, that is a misapplication of faith, a presumption - and I do it all the time.

And neither is it enough to simply pray. There are times, true enough, when an "arrow prayer," a quick, immediate prayer, is the only possible or practical response. This is not really the case, however, in beginning a good work, if that is, we take work to be something of an extended nature.

I was preaching last night in the Ash Wednesday service, based upon Isaiah 58 and Matthew 16, that real prayer, like real fasting, is a time-consuming and costly business. And it's true. What better way than to seek to begin, and to hallow, to consecrate, a work of good intention. How much does the very action of the prayer transform the practice, I wonder?

And finally, notice what we are encouraged to seek of God's involvement in the task. Completion? The drawing of a line according to our standards of a job well done? No. The target is the conclusion of the work according to the divine standard, not of ending, nor adequacy, but of perfection.

Perfection is most definitely a state that can only truly be achieved by God, the action of the divine, not simply our own. Perfection, in his eyes, may not be the same as ours either - which is a slight digression and a topic for another time, perhaps.

The good work, rooted in prayer, seeking the divinely-willed conclusion, is to be our goal. Earnest prayer is in itself a sacrifice of time and effort, not too dissimilar to the foundations of a building, I would guess. It leaves time and space for dialogue with God, time for an awareness of our strengths and limitations.

And it's something that I know I don't do even half as often as I should. Maybe in the founding prayer too all the worries about the many tasks which need to be done will reveal those most important to God rather than to us. Or to me.

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:

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).
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.

Nouslife is a wonderful place for things to ponder - check it out.

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

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.

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!)

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 Faithful

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

Several anthologies of David's poetry are available. Please contact me for details.

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?

"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...

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:

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...

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.

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!

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!

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,

"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!