Amazing Women

From time to time my former session clerk likes to encourage me in my reading and offers helpful suggestions and passes books for me to read. Before the summer holidays he handed me a copy of "Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers found the Hidden Gospels" by Janet Soskice.

Now I'm not a big fan of books written by academics. They often seem dry, lacking in humour, and the extra details that bring things to life. Because of that I save them for morning reading in a chair in broad daylight, that I might better take in the gist of what I am being told.

However "Sisters of Sinai" has been a fabulous read. As well as offering an opportunity to find out about the history of the Codex Sinaiticus, I've been enthralled by the lives of two sisters in the late 19th century.

Truly amazing women, they adventured across the Middle East at a time when travel was more difficult and fairly unusual for women to undertake on their own. Each journey carefully prepared for with knowledge of languages that might be helpful, and ensuring they understood the cultural contexts into which they were travelling. There were humourous moments when Janet Soskice spoke of their exercise regimes and cast verbal pictures if parallel bars in gardens and ropes hung from ceilings in the home. All of the work that these women did underscored by their faith in God, and their desire to engage more in the understanding of the Bible and Ancient texts.

This moved from day-time reading to night time relaxation as I wondered what they would do next.

Amazing women have filled church congregations for years. Women who encouraged people to play their part in the faiths they led. Women who seemed to sit on the sidelines, but really their careful work in the Gospel name often went unnoticed.

In my last charge, there was a formidable woman who didn't really approve of women ministers but was determined that she would try to work with me. For my first nine months she often seemed awkward, organising me, telling me where I was going wrong, worrying that I might want to run the Guild, borrowing me to give her a lift to Edinburgh (I was going anyway). Sadly Jenny died suddenly. She was found sitting in a chair in her home by a neighbour. She had just celebrated a successful income from the Guild Sale of Work. It was only after Jenny's death that the congregation realised what an amazing woman she had been. There were lots of little things that suddenly stopped happening because Jenny was no longer there to do them. It took a while to gather all the threads and organise others to take on these role.

But thank God for amazing people in congregations, who often want no credit for what they do, but carefully work away that the faith they have in Jesus Christ might be passed on to others.

Frustration

For several months now there have been complaints about the provisions for young people around the church. A number of families have hit a stage where there are other activities that are more exciting than coming to church. Of course I'm more than aware that sitting listening to an adult talking about God is not always very exciting.

Over the last year I've made various attempts to change the situation with requests made of the Sunday School Superintendent to try new things. There is a desire to hang on to the old ways of two teachers-one class for continuity. But I'm not so convinced of this if you don't get the same children each week anyway. Most of these requests for trying change have been ignored or fallen on deaf ears, and finally in June there was a mass voice of parents who made a clear statement that things were not good.

Trying not to hurt the Sunday School Superintendent I thought we would try a new tack. We are in the process of moving to a new committee structure that encourages more of the congregation to be part of the organisational life of the church. We have a fairly successful education team which includes the Sunday School Superintendent. The thought had been to invite some of these parents onto that group that they might have a voice and an opportunity to change things. To date all of those parents who have been asked to be involved have said no.

I find myself caught in the middle - a Sunday School Superintendent who thinks I'm making it up because nobody complains to her and yet less and less children come - and a set of parents who want a place for their children but don't want to say what they think to the people who could change things or be part of a potential solution.

Of course my frustration is heightened by the fact that it is Friday evening and I'm no closer to the sermon. I have an idea though but not sure how to start.

The whole notion of "Shekinah" seems a good place to start. The motion of the in-dwelling of God, and the temple in which he expands beyond to touch lives. I'm also feeling drawn to the inclusivity that is found in both the OT and the Gospel, as they suggest that God is for more than those who claim faith.

So I have thoughts, ribs upon which to build. I just need to find the doorway in.

Have a Word

For the first time in a long time I have some help with the work I do. Compared to my first charge I often think I have less to do, but in reality it is just that many of the things I now do are very different from the past. In a past life, much of what I did happened in daylight hours. In this life, there are very few free evenings, as there are more younger people who work and meetings take place when they are available.

It's only been a few weeks of this new situation, however today I have had to take myself aside and and have words about letting go of some of the things I am used to just getting on with. The other person is more than capable of many of the things I do.

This morning my thoughts were to share one of the things I have been doing alone for much of the summer, but on reflection there will be a phone call tomorrow morning to readjust what was said, and an opportunity for the other to have the opportunity to lead the more informal service.

I'm not sure why I wanted to hang on to the experience and share (other than that underlying they are my people and I need to do this) as in the holidays I happily walk away and leave another completely in charge.

But I've had a word with myself. It probably won't be the last time this year.

Breaking Windows

I'm not preaching this week, although I'm still doing the prayers at the second service. This means that I will get out of looking at bread again - hooray! The person who is preaching appears to be looking at wisdom, so I look forward to hearing someone new.

Our first service is a church family service, and it tends not to follow the patterns of traditional worship. This summer we have played ball games during the service; we've investigated bags and guessed what was inside them and we've done the hokey cokey (I'm now considering writing a hymn to the tune because the congregation sang it better than they sing any hymn.)

This week my theme is broken windows, and I'm trying to work through that image as a play out for worship. I'm thinking about having windows with images of things that are "broken" in our world and community, and then having stained glass colours with pictures of ways we can help on them to be stuck around the windows as symbols of how we might help as a church.

However my worry is I do not want the "how faith might play a part in the various situations" to be viewed as a sticking plaster solution.

I'm also wondering if I'm heading in the wrong direction with the broken window image. Perhaps instead I should be suggesting that we need to break a few windows that we might get out in the community and play our part.

Fortunately it is only Tuesday, so I can have a few more thoughts yet before the practical work of putting it together happens. Although hymns to pick...

Bread

While I'm returning to a theme of an earlier blog, in preaching this summer it will be the first time I've looked at the "Bread of Life" motif that runs through the Gospel of John over a number of weeks of lectionary readings. I've carefully been trying to avoid it, given that it arises most summers and I'm sure in the x number of years I've been here I've probably bored them to tears on more than one occasion.

However this week, I'm taking the issue head on and am thinking that I want to talk about how the bread we use in communion says something about what we have as an understanding of Jesus and then picking up on the Ephesians reading want to talk about being "imitators" of that bread. I know it will make more sense once I get going.

But just for starters, what kind of bread do you like in communion?
- A stiff little wafer - sometimes sticks to the roof of your mouth and is difficult to swallow.
- a stale cubed piece of bread - in a plate where every one's fingers have shuffled to grab the hopefully little piece that doesn't taste so bad.
- or a freshly torn piece, of freshly baked doughy, seedy bread - something that tempts the palate, and speaks of the abundance of God.

Of course I'm highlighting my preference, but has our choice of communion bread hastened what we think and understand of God? In choosing the smaller, easier to prepare and find options, we are perhaps missing the significance of what Jesus means when he says "I am the bread of life". I imagine that bread to be chunky, freshly made, and filling. Sometimes the seeds can be tough to chew, but they give you food for thought, and don't allow you to hurry on to the next piece. Instead you discover how filling the bread is, and how much you need to share it with others.

Tattoos and Emotions

This morning I finally persuaded the small people in the house that it would be good to head to Redford Barracks in Edinburgh to see if we could see the rehearsal for the Edinburgh Military Tattoo 2009. Last year we had attempted to do the same thing, but had arrived in the afternoon - only to discover we had missed it by a couple of hours. So this morning we headed along mid- morning.

We were a little later than I had planned, so the show was half way through when we got there, and there was a good crowd gathered to watch. Those in the know had obviously turned up early enough either to get a good seat, or vantage point. Not only were the audience on the surround of the parade ground, but on the grassy banks around the ground. Some had brought chairs and picnics. There were people of all ages. It had a very familiar Biblical image to it - without the water, bread and fish perhaps.

Going to the rehearsal seemed a good thing to do. It's free - although a donation is welcome at the end- and an opportunity for small people to encounter some of the differing people from around the world. We watched the Secret Army of Basel perform, and there were an Asian dance group sitting near by waiting to return to the parade ground for the finale. It also offers the opportunity to have a good and tuneful encounter with the Pipes and Drums of Scotland. There was some interesting singing - some tuneful, some not so, and some powerfully emotive words and imagery.

I'm very aware of how much more emotional I am becoming as I age. The National Anthem still doesn't stir me: the Billy Connolly jokes are too well integrated into my imagination and my republican sentiments too deeply held. Yet as we are asked to think of those serving in foreign lands, and the words and music of "Abide with me" brought the parade ground to a comforting gentle hum of noise, the tears stung in my eyes. There will be mulling over why. Then another wave of pride and tears rose again with the skirl of the pipes and "Scotland the Brave".

Examining the emotions of this morning, I know that I do feel a pride in Scottish Heritage. Perhaps sometimes blindly so. But I am proud that this small nation has in the past, and maybe even today, responded to many of the difficulties of the world in which it has found itself - not just in armed forces, but in medical science and presence, in missionaries and teachers, in convicts and pilgrims.

Thoughts on Sundays

A member of my congregation lent me a book a few months ago, and while it has taken me a while to get to it I am greatly enjoying it. Entitled "Sisters of Sinai" by Janet Soskice, it tells of the true story of two Scottish women who in the 19th century discovered hidden gospels in a monastery in the Sinai desert.

I'm only half way through, but already amazed at the courage these women had in stepping out of the norms of society to set of on their adventure. Their scholarship and grasp of languages is much to be admired, and their willingness to experience other cultures something that others should thirst after.

In the early chapters we are introduced to one the sister's husbands, who was a scholar and a Church of Scotland minister. There was a section about his preparation for worship that captured my thoughts as I read it, and I marked it to return to, so that I might re-read it.

In the 1850s the heavy stress still fell upon the minister's sacred eloquence, which must at least appear to issue from spontaneous inspiration. Indeed, as Agnes pointed out in a memoir of her brother-in-law, this duty ought to have been a joyous privilege, but Gibson was a perfectionist. Preaching quickly became an ordeal, since it required two bursts of inspiration every Sunday, which his nature required him to prepare down to the last syllable, and which his congregation expected to be delivered without notes.

...When Gibson mounted the pulpit, there was no evidence of anything but the most complete preparation and perfect vigour. (Janet Soskice [2009], Sisters of Sinai, pp57-58)

No matter what age of humanity, it would appear the preacher's lot remains the same. We seek to be spontaneous and intelligent, and yet on reading this book there is the insight that still congregations have criticised for the seeming failure to grasp their imagination.

I've still much more of the book to discover and enjoy, and other passages I'm sure will stick in my mind or spark my imagination.