Beach Experiences

Changing Spaces

2011-12-27T19:17:00.003Z

The wanderer is changing cyber location and name. Future mullings can be found at beachblesser.wordpress.com

Quite Excited

2011-09-29T18:55:00.002+01:00

Over the past year I have had the opportunity to be part of the Pray Now Writing Group. For those of you not in the know, "Pray Now" is a daily prayer resource published by St Andrew's Press, and those who form the writing group are ministers in and members of the Church of Scotland.

When I was first approached I wasn't sure if this was for me, but up for a challenge I thought I would give it a go.

A year on, and beginning to write for "Pray Now 2013", I still find the process a challenge.   Writing for worship is entirely different from writing material that other people may use for prayer.   When you write for worship, it is likely that it will only be you who will use it, and so right up until the moment when the words are spoken there is an opportunity for inspiration to whisk you in another direction.

However I've found learning this new process energising of the kind of worship I would hope to create.   Writing Group meetings, where we have looked over each others' work, have been encouraging experiences.   Criticism has been blended with what it is we like of another's writing, and often I have found myself inspired to look at a Biblical passage in a new way because of something someone else has written.   The Group have been very kind to my strange habit of ending up with more writing than I need, and have suggested we should create an "out-take" book just for all the pieces that didn't make it out of the folder and onto a page to be shared.

Never having had my work published before, I'm quite excited.   I see from Facebook today that "Pray Now 2012" can now be purchased on-line.   Should you buy a copy, I hope you find something that offers you an encounter with the Spirit wrestling inside you.

http://www.standrewpress.com/Products/290-pray-now-2012.aspx

Planning Good Friday

2011-04-06T01:12:00.002+01:00

I'm sure others are well ahead in their planning, however I plan to sit down sometime this week and give serious consideration to Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Easter.   I share the other Holy Week Services with others, and so this year am relieved of the reponsibility of preparation for those.

That was not the case last year, where the Good Friday Service was hosted by my congregation.

I thought I would post what happened last year just in case it is off use to others.   I would love to say that what you will see is all my own work.   However I am grateful for the creativity of others, and so much of the framework and words are borrowed from something in Seasons of the Spirit from a while ago, along with readings from from other writers.   In the text there is credit given.   Every so often there is an original thought from me.

Before the service begins an empty cross is carried to and displayed at the front of the church

Greeting

We gather again on this Good Friday

at the foot of the cross

which call us on, not in shame or fear,
but ever more deeply
into the costly journey towards life.
There is wounding and there is weeping.
In Jesus Christ, God is not separated from that.

Opening Sentence
One: In the shadow of our suffering
ALL: IS THE SUFFERING OF JESUS.
One: In the shadow of our weakness
ALL: IS THE VULNERABILITY OF THE CHRIST.
One: In the shadow of our pain
ALL: IS THE GOD WHO CRIED OUT.
One: We are never rejected,
ALL: WE ARE NEVER LEFT ALONE.

Hymn 380 “There is a green hill far away”

Prayer

Holy God,
On this dark day
we walk with you into the darkest places of our world,
and our lives.
Bearing your cross
you lead us to discover that even in the darkest places
your love is ever present
that the place of pain
might be transformed to a place of sharing that pain
and in leading us to carry pain and sorrow in life
we discover the healing found within pain and sorrow.

So on this day,
we see the betrayal of friendship and its consequences.
On this day we remember that your enemies appear to have the upper hand.
On this day we remember that all your prophecies about the end were justified.
On this day we see how unreliable your followers proved to be in a real crisis.
On this day we appeared to see the death of God.

As we gather at the foot of the cross,
may we know your presence,
as we reflect upon this day
and the effect it has on our lives.
Enable us to remember
that the passage of events is not some distant history,
but an experience of the religious bigotry, cruelty and unreliability
that continue in our world today.
Grasping at your suffering
may we meet your willingness to walk on the boundaries of what is comfortable
that we might learn the lengths and depths of God’s love.
AMEN.

THE BETRAYALS

Scripture Reading: John 18: 1- 11

Four people gather at the foot of the cross carrying stones.

Reader :
Betrayals lie like stone of death within us,
weighing down our lives with guilt or pain.
We place these stones of betrayal
and lay them at the foot of the cross.

Two stones are placed at the foot of the cross

Scripture Reading : John 18: 15 – 18, 25 – 27

Reader :

Humankind has not changed.
We still give power to those who use it to oppress and destroy.
We still fail to challenge those who allow the good to die.

Pause with silence

We place these fatal stumbling blocks to love,
those which lie in our own lives
and in the life of the world,
at the foot of the cross.

Two more stones are placed at the foot of the cross.

Prayer

God in Christ,
you travel with us towards the most wounded places in our souls.
You know the agony of pain, guilt, and hurt deep within us
as we face the fact that we have betrayed others
or been betrayed ourselves.
AMEN.

Hymn 395 “What wondrous love is this”

THE QUESTIONING

Scripture Reading: John 18: 28 – 40
While reading is being read, there is the sound of paper being ripped.

Reader: “What is truth?”
Now, there’s a question! What is truth? And truth was standing right there in front of him! Had he not said, “I am the way, the truth and the life!” Yet what was a king doing “bearing witness to the truth?” What sort of kingdom could he have?

Hymn 537 “We do not hope to ease our minds”

THE CRUCIFIXION

Scripture Reading: John 19: 17 – 30
While reading is being read, somewhere nails are being hammered into a piece of wood

Prayer :

Lord Jesus Christ,
wounded and crushed;
You gave your life that we might live.

Condemned Christ,
hanging in agony,
sharing the death of criminals,
we pray for those who wait:
those who wait in pain,
those who wait in anger,
those who wait in sorrow,
those who wait without hope.
We pray for ourselves,
wanting an end to pain, anger and sorrow;
aching for a new hope.

May your lingering Spirit
be the source of our life
as we witness to you
sharing pain, anger, sorrow and hope
however we can.
AMEN

(Janet Lees taken from “let justice roll down”)

Hymn 385 “Here hangs a man discarded”

During this hymn a white cloth is laid on the floor to the front of the Apse.

THE CHERISHING

Scripture Reading: John 19: 38

The cross is laid on the cloth.

Scripture Reading: John 19: 39 – 42

Reading : “Myrrh – A Reflection” from “Let justice roll”

Three Kings came
Cradled the Babe in bejewelled arms,
Gave of their gifts and left a different path,
I wonder at their gifts as I
Cradle the Babe in homespun arms.

Gold is a useful gift.
The Babe likes the glitter and clink of it
And we are glad of the security it offers;
As we walk a different path to a new land.
I cradle the Babe in my lap
And wonder at God’s mercy on it.

Frankincense – what to make of that then
Sweet smell and curled smoke rising.
A fitting sacrifice for God’s Son in Jerusalem’s Temple.
‘A sword shall pierce my heart!’
I wonder at those two old dears and their words surprising.

Myrrh – myrrh causes my heart to tremble
As I cradle the Babe against my breast.
Myrrh betokens all the world’s pain and all the world’s loss
Anointing the dead – ah let me hold Him yet awhile –
Sweet, sweet child, grow not away too fast.
Abba, heavenly Father, let me know what is best.

Myrrh anoints all the world’s pain and all the world’s loss.
‘Blessed are they who mourn for they shall be comforted!’
‘Talithi cumi – give her something to eat.’
‘If you want you can cure me.’ ‘Of course I want to be cured.’
‘Do not cry. Young man, I say to you get up.’
As salve takes the sting from the pain
Abba’s son and mine restore them to life again?

I wonder at this gift of myrrh
As I watch his body on the gibbet racked (wracked?)
My heart pierced by the pain he bears,
His head upon my breast and he, inert upon my lap.
Once more I embrace my son and wonder what we lacked
That Abba allowed it thus.

I wonder at this gift of myrrh
As I walk with the women to the tomb
How his body we need to anoint – the last comfort give.
And as I grasp the myrrh’s portent; believe: in entering the pain
Break the barriers to find him living again.
Oh Abba, loving Father, Amen, Amen.

Anne Hine

Fragrant anointing

Reader :

We remember the death of our innocent selves.
We remember the death of innocent fragile things in the person of Jesus Christ
for all eternity, no matter what that may cost.
Let us cherish this Body, as did the first disciples.
Let us reverently touch the place in which our pain now lies
and cover it with fragrant flowers and herbs.

People place petals and herbs from some bowls over and around the cross, and return to their seats

Cloth is folded over the cross to cover like a shroud.

(Before worship on Easter morning the shroud is pulled back and the cross removed leaving the cross mark in the petals.)

Reader:

It is time to leave this place.
Jesus said “Father into your hands I commend my spirit.”
In faith, we also commend ourselves into the hands of a loving God.
After we receive a blessing,
let us sing and then quietly leave this place together.

Sending forth
Go in peace, embraced in the love of Christ.
Walk deeply into your own lives, with all their frailties.
Discover, as you do that in spirit and in truth,
that you are walking towards the joy of Easter Day.

Hymn 378 “Praise to the Holiest in the height”

Creative People

2011-03-18T00:10:00.002Z

Thank God for creative people.
People who touch your life
with the beauty of their imagination.

Artists who sweep
colour across a blank canvas,
and take you into different worlds.
Not all of them scenic pictures of beauty,
or pretty images of little girls.
But portraits
that capture anguish,
and pain.
Images that
reach within
and wrench at primal emotions.

Sculptors
who take clay
or wood
or wool and silk,
and shape forms
that offer the invitation
to embrace and grasp.
A maleable or solid form
that asks to be touched,
that in the encounter
a response is drawn forth.

Writers
who carefully craft words
that transport
from this present moment
to another place
or time;
who open eyes
to what it might be like
to live within another skin.
Pages to ponder,
or return to,
as layer of nuance
reveals a path.

Musicians
who in major key
might skip across
the open field in golden sunshine,
while in the minor
transport you to the depths of Sheol
to face the terrors
hidden deep within.
With melody and rhythm
tantalising
hidden passions for dance and song.
Caressing
the sorrowing and bereft
with engulfing phrasing.

Thank God for creative people,
who imagination
and encourage with their dreams and visions
to never settle
for one view.
Instead they lead
to the myriad of creation's display.

Sunny Days

2011-02-28T15:39:00.000Z

Today is a glorious sunny day and because of that I had thought I would take advantage of the spring-like weather and venture out and catch up with the world beyond the manse door.   This morning I have managed to fit in two meetings that add a little bit of direction to some of the things that might happen around congregational life.   One alleviated me of a convenership, while the other gave me a new task but not one I have to necessarily hurry over.

This afternoon, I headed out the front door not long after finishing my lunch and wandered along to visit one of the congregation members.   I had promised to do so before heading off on holiday and today presented an ideal opportunity.   On meeting the Nursing Home manager at the door my plan was thwarted as said lady was watching a film - these things happen.

So taking advantage of being in an area I thought I might try some of those who lived near-by.   They too were obviously taking advantage of the weather, and hopefully they will be enjoying the world as it presents itself today.

However having rung four doorbells, I have given up my plan for the afternoon and am following my one-time supervisor's advice - if after four doors there is no-one home, go and do something else.

Of course had I phoned ahead I might have known there would be no-one there, but I left with a planned visit I thought might take a while.   My thought had been to make the journey to that area worthwhile once my original plan had failed.

So now to make an hour's unexpected desk time worthwhile.   Who knows, perhaps this week I might have a sermon idea before Friday.

Birthing

2011-02-25T15:32:00.001Z

For personal and spiritual reasons I've been thinking about "birth".   I'm in the midst with some others of preparing meditations and prayers for devotional material and one of the themes I have is about being born or giving birth.

I thought this would be relatively easy to write as the experience of birth is one I've been part of on three occasions - my own and both my children's.   Obviously I don't have any particular memories of my own, and while I should remember my children's, the wonderful things called nature has made them perhaps not as memorable for me as they seem to have been for my husband who was probably the more conscious of us on both occasions.

I like devotional material that allows me to take more than one interpretation from a piece, so that it can appeal in different ways at different times in my life.   I think as I'm beginning the sketching outlines that is what I'm aiming for with "birth".

For me the individual relationship with the unborn child or idea is about both nurture and struggle.   While the unborn is within your internal womb, it is for the one who mothers it to dream of what it may bring in the future.

Yet in the moment of birth, that child or idea no longer belongs to you alone.   Instead it is set free in the world for others to mould and shape.   You may still play your part but as the child or idea grows there is a time for the mother to step back and allow independence if the fruition of the womb-time dreams are to become real.

In my aging years, I hope someone reminds me of these thoughts.   Should I hinder my children's independence as they grow beyond the needing my immediate attention and support, I'm hoping someone will have the kindness to remind me that birthing is but a moment (although sometimes lengthy and painful).   Instead may I be willing to share with others the celebration of growing life that finds a place within the worldly community.

Best Laid Plans

2010-08-23T13:10:00.000+01:00

With the children finally back to school, and some sense of normal routine moving into place, this morning I awoke with plans for the day.   At 9am I sat at my desk and wrote my list of things I hope to achieve, most of which was arranging meetings for the next few weeks.   Sadly I am now waiting for confirmation that two meetings can take place before I organise the next two.

This is often my frustration and one of the reasons why it seems to take so long for things to happen or I then forget to progress things forward as the task drops off the list of "to-dos" for that week.   Sadly it is part and parcel of what I think most ministers do.   For many of us, the volunteers who take part in meetings and organisation either have day jobs or commitments during the day and so cannot respond to e-mail or phone calls immediately.   Instead a waiting game for knowledge of availability takes place.

By this time tomorrow I should have a rough idea of when meetings are happening so that I can start organising the next batch.   But by this time tomorrow there are two new items to be added to the list already.

So while I wait I might work on a couple of the written items on my list, for there's a funeral to write and the fun of writing a "theology of hall letting".   That in itself may result in another wander into blogging as I work through some of the questions I have and responses that the elders have made.

Holidays a coming!

2010-06-28T20:26:00.000+01:00

Today marks the last three days before we finally take our summer break. As always there never seems to be enough time to do all the things that should be done before we go. Still this morning I was writing my list of things to do and people to see in the last 72 hours. My good plans for this evening were scuppered when it was discovered that one of the adults in our house would need to be at the Cub AGM and barbecue this evening. So a parent has gone, and instead I have had to write notes to those I had hoped to see. I'm sure I will find time to post them tomorrow.

Tomorrow will go with a swing as I attempt to meet a lady who has joined the congregation and yet I've never worked out who she was; send out some e-mails to some people about coming to speak; head into the office to tidy up before going; and spend an evening at Presbytery.

While I've now discovered that my husband is supposed to be at a concert on Wednesday, when I have an evening communion to be doing. There have been some frantic phonecalls to arrange a short term babysitter.

And in amongst the working things I still want to leave the house clean and tidy; make sure the children get to the last week of all their activities; phone the people who own the house we are going to; pack; think about packed lunch for the journey.

No doubt as we leave in the early morning at the close of the week, I will have come to the conclusion that some things are not worth worrying about.

Challenging convention?

2010-06-25T19:58:00.002+01:00

In the school where I share chaplaincy with a colleague, today was the Prinmary 7 Leavers' Assembly for the School.   They will do the same assembly again on Wednesday afternoon for their mums and dads.

As always the assembly was very good, with the odd moment where someone needed to speak up, or there was an in-joke no-one else would get, or people forgot their lines or their actions.   It is however always a good way to spend a Friday morning as we head towards the holidays.

A Leavers' Assembly often includes important memories of school life for the Primary 7, and this year's was no exception.   With the help of a regenerating Dr. Who and Tardis we travelled backwards and forward through their memories of school.   We joined them in Primary 1 with their teacher and their "buddies"; were whisked to Benmore for their experiences of a night-time walk; cheered on sports day and wondered at "potted" sports.   We were even taken 15 years into the future to see who the Primary 7 were in 2025 - it looked like a lot of artists, footballers and teachers.   But we also had architects, doctors, vets and racing drivers.

There was one memory that intrigued me though.

I've been here 8 years now and my colleague, 9.   When this group of children started at the school, we were the chaplains.   In Primary 3, the children look at different celebrations and one of those is a wedding.   For a number of years now my colleague has led them through a mock wedding, while I work the sound system.   The children recognised that this was an important memory for them, and included it in their show.

That all seems fantastic, a sign that we are touching the lives of young people.   So what intrigued me?   You'll love this!   My colleague and I are both women, and yet the part of the minister in their wedding was played by a boy.   I suspect that for many of these children we are their only experience of ministers, and I'm not sure whether wonderfully or not, they recognise that ministry is a task that continues to be performed by men and women.

I found it funny, and I'm not sure how I'm going to tell my colleague that her character was played by a boy.

Hill Climbing

2010-05-29T09:39:00.000+01:00

It has been a while since I've written anything.   The end of April/beginning of May had a few tough days, and for me it was important to take time to reflect upon those moments before heading back to a vaguely public format to say anything whether it be of interest or not.

Hill climbing has been a daily occurrence as I attended as a commissioner at this year's Church of Scotland General Assembly.   Once upon a time, the climb to New College was a regular feature of life for on leaving school I went to work in a city centre bank and walking home would enjoy either the Playfair Steps or the Mound.   Then whilst at New College studying for the variety of qualifications that would keep me there for 6 years, so that I might fulfil the Church of Scotland's education criteria, trips to Princes Street always involved a return trip back to the top of the hill.

This week has had me realise just how fit I must have been in those days.   I still maintain that the best way to get to New College from Princes Street is to take the Playfair steps at full speed.   Thus the peching and pain is overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure in having got to the top.   However walking with others meant I would have to take it at their speed.   The walk round the Mound involved a breathless trot beside a 6 foot man.   While I had to take the pain of a slow ascent of the Playfair Steps with a woman of a similar size.   The slow pace had the peching start before we got past the second set of steps, and for a while I thought I might not manage all four.

For those who come from the railway station or anywhere on the north side of Princes Street there is a very real sense of climbing to the top of a hill to experience the presence of God in the midst of a community of His people.

Yet the past week has for me been a metaphorical climb as well.   Today I'm still peching, and in the mist that clouds my thoughts I'm not sure if I've made it to the top or still have a way to climb.   I feel like I am really struggling with the climb, and trying to decide which path to take next.

There were glorious moments at the General Assembly. It was good to clearly state that as a church we continue to have a passion for the mission of Jesus Christ, and that we believe that we should continue to find ways to ensure that every part of Scotland is touched by the passion of that mission.   Emotionally charged moments as the forces chaplains bore witness to those they care for in the troops serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in the youth delegate who spoke courageously of her experience of anorexia.   Even just the sheer sense of community as commissioners sought God's spirit in their decisions.

Yet while it was not a big part of the General Assembly the notion that leafy, suburb parishes being easy to minister to and that those serving them are failing to hear God's call was banded about quite vocally, and it has stuck in my head and I find myself sitting on the hillside not sure where to go, head in hands and almost weeping.

Those of you who have worked out where I am will probably recognise that suburbs don't come much leafier than mine.   Having a hill and two golf courses really emphasies the leafiness, and heading home one evening I was struck by just how leafy it looked at this time of year.   For just over a year I have been feeling unsettled, as I've always understood that ministry has a cycle and for me that cycle was drawing to a rounded position and so was it time to move on or was there a sense that there was a place for me in the next cycle of where this congregation was going.   At the start of this year, as we started as a congregation to think about our next period of planning that unease began to settle.

I really struggle with the notion that people think that serving in the suburbs is easy, and that those of us who do have no sense of call and are busy enjoying the theatre, cinema and libraries with all the spare time we have.

Now in my second charge I have experience of two different places to minister to, both of which have had very different challenges and wonderful rewards in the sharing of faith.

My first charge was a former mining town, not the most attractive of places and rundown both in physical presence and in people's perception.   Young people drank in the church grounds throughout the year.   The manse was a stopping place for a bowl of soup for those in need.   For a girl with a sheltered up-bringing, I sometimes felt I'd been thrown in at the deep end, and was swimming as best I could as I learnt to deal with situations I had ne experience of.   But for me it still remains a halcyon moment of ministry.   No matter the dwindling attenence on Sundays, there was still a sense that the church was part of the community.   No matter where I went people recognised me as the local minister, and the minister still had a clear role as representative of the Christian faith in many spheres of public life as well as the role of leadership in the congregation.

The congregation itself also had a sense of purpose, as they used their differing gifts to respond to God in their lives.   They were practical people, who found ways to give in more than financial ways.   One of the best moments there has to have been in their recognition that they needed to open their halls for community use, and that having done so they would need to meet the needs for those now using the hall and add a disabled loo.   They did as presbytery required and sought three quotes - two from outside builders and one from a groups within the congregation - and then proceeded to build the facility for themselves using the works manager, plumber, electrician and extra hands all found within the congregation.

In contrast, I have not found ministry in this setting easier, despite this being the kind of setting that I grew up in.   In part that has always been my own unease at coming here.   For a good number of the early years I felt that I had sold out in leaving behind a parish that "really needed" a minister to serve one that could "afford" to have a minister.    I share my community with a number of other ministers and beyond our congregations I suspect that there are very few people in our parishes who would recognise any of us individually as local ministers.   There are not the same kind of community organisations or events into which an automatic invite is extended, and so time is spent finding ways in which to make the Chrisian faith and our activity as a congregation relevant into the situation in which we are placed.   Our presence doesn't always automatically touch others with Christ's presence, instead in the plans we make as a congregation we are engaging with how we do touch the lives of those who keep their pains and distresses hidden.

There is also not the same congregational commitment to practical service in Christ's name.   This is the culture where we have money to pay people to do things, and that extends to church cleaning and repairs - and even to having a minister to act as the professional Christian for them.   They "pay for a minister" and that minister is at their bidding to do as they expect and not necessarily as God calls.   (In saying that I acknowledge that that would be a minority view, but as always within our church the minority view is often particularly vocal).

But in amongst the struggles, there have been good things here as well.   A Stewardship Campaign brought a sense of community and sharing of gifts.   There are a good number of families involved, and children usually appear for most things.

On the hillside sitting my thoughts are that there is no such thing as an "easy" place to minister, instead each type of congregation and community brings its own set of challenges and an equally wonderful set of rewards that speak of God revealing his presence in human existence. The mistake we make in our humanity is viewing the other kinds of ministry as lesser, more important, not spiritual.   I recognise that there is a real challenge for us as a church to find ways to witness to Christ across Scotland, and population shifts to the central belt that does create difficulties for smaller communities in more remote areas.   However that witness is not going to be increased by diminishing the call and ministry of each other by believing that we can only really represent Christ in particular situations.   Instead all we do is further enhance the division and disquiet that exist within our reforming tradition.

On Monday morning I will need to get up from my seat on this hill and head either to the top and hope for a better view, or look for a new path.   Disquieting feelings are important for they allow for the testing of God's spirit, but they don't make for a comfortable journey.

He is not here. He is risen!

2010-04-04T22:26:00.002+01:00

Yesterday was spent preparing the church for Easter morning.   Children appeared for the afternoon and crafted away, to prepare paper daffodils for our cross and marble designed paper for egg cut outs.

The night before at the Good Friday service we share with 8 other church, we welcomed them to our building and marked our betrayals and accusations before annointing the cross with fragrant spices.   So part of the afternoon was also about opening up the white cloth and removing the cross front it, the children were happy to play their part in the mystery.

I'm still considering whether or not to put the liturgy that we used that evening on here.   So far it hasn't appeared as I borrowed pieces from other places, as well as adapting it to suit our puposes, so I need to think how best to credit the places I borrowed from.

This morning we gathered early to rise with Christ and eat bacon rolls. At the start of the morning service the church was full of aroma and potential. The aroma of the lilies and the fragrant spices blended well with the smell of bacon. The 250 orders of service ran out, and the fun of a baptism all contributed to a wonderful morning.

I have to compliment the choir, who held off on their anthem until after the sermon and then gave a truly beautiful rendition of "Jesu. Joy of man's desiring".

No theological statements to make. No point, but just a pause to say great day, and to acknowledge that he is not here in this moment, but out there waiting for me/us to walk into the future.

And also a place to put the photos of people's artful worship.

A Holy Week Labyrinth

2010-03-26T15:27:00.002Z

I've spent a bit of Lent searching for some Labyrinth "stage" words that were appropriate for Holy Week, and found nothing. Eventually I admitted defeat and wrote something of my own. It is still a work in progress and may change before Sunday night. However for others who might appreciate a help in creating something I'm putting it here.

The Holy Week Labyrinth

Welcome to the Holy Week Labyrinth.

Labyrinths were once an ancient form of pilgrimage for those who would not make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
Today this Labyrinth also offers a pilgrimage-
some time away from the differing tasks and noises of life –
and instead dwell in the moment here in this place within God’s love.

Our Holy Week Labyrinth starts under the Palms and the cheerful noise of crowds; allows for expressions of anger and encourages us to think about how we can react positively; soothes the calluses and sores of past hurts;
meets us in the moments when we betray the ones we love and Christ himself; before finally standing at the cross with the hopes of what we would hope to be finished in God’s embrace of love.

Make yourself comfortable for the journey...

Leave your coat or jacket on a pew....

If you feel comfortable, take of your shoes and walk in bare or stocking feet...

Breathe slowly and enjoy the time of resting in faith...

Take your time,...

and pause for as long as you need at each station.

Station 1

Palm Branches
(Prop - Palm branch or tree)
“...a great multitude that had come to the fast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches of palm trees and went out to meet Him and cried out: ‘Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! The King of Israel!’”

Safety in numbers.
Is that why we like worship?
We can leave behind our personal thoughts and be pulled into the crowd mentality.
We get lost in the throng,
blend away and hope that the Holy Spirit won’t disturb us,
by moving her wild nature, and ask us to be extraordinary.

Palm branches waving around us...
...offering us cover to walk away from the crowd,
and share a journey to a cross.

Away from the safety of the crowd...
...leaving the noise of the world behind.

Away from the safety of the crowd...
...we focus on the sound of swaying branches...
...the passing breeze...
...the temperate climate.

Away from the safety of the crowd...
...we follow the Way of Christ.

Station 2

Holy Anger
(prop - building bricks)

“In the temple courts he found men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, ‘Get these out of here! How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!’”

What makes you angry?

What frustration could be placed within these blocks before you?

When knocked down take time to experience the noise and the sense of release from the anger.

Often we say that something makes us “sad”, when in fact what we mean is that something makes us “angry”.
We believe that it is “unfaithful” to be angry.

Yet Jesus got angry...
...and in his anger with situations he did not just cause disruption...
...but sought to encourage others to think of ways to change...
...that God’s community might grow in its love and respect of each other

Now take time to rebuild the bricks...

In building take time to think how an expression of your anger might be used constructively in some of the situations that affect the communities you are part of.

Station 3

Anointing
(prop - hand cream)

“Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume: she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume”

“After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.”

Have a seat and make yourself comfortable.

Take a little of the hand cream before you
and work it into your hands or your feet.

First notice your skin...
...see the colour, the imperfections, the marks left by daily tasks.

Now as you smooth the cream in around the joints and knuckles ...
...notice the sensation of touch.
How does the skin feel? What bones can you feel beneath?

Then encounter the fragrance...
...heady or light...
...evocative of past encounters, loving words,
or times of struggle

When another places their hand upon us...
...we are reminded of our humanity
and the care compassion of the other.

When we reach out the hand of friendship in Christ’s name...
...we ensure that another knows that they belong within the community we seek to create.

Station 4

Betrayal
(prop - silver coins)

“Now Judas, who betrayed him, knew the place, because Jesus had often met there with his disciples. So Judas came to the grove, guiding a detachment of soldiers and some officials from the chief priests and Pharisees.”

Betrayer or betrayed ...
...it hurts.

When we find others have spoken harshly about us,
or have let us down in love,
or failed to speak up for us in public...
...we feel the pain of every word spoken (or not spoken)
as though it is being hammered into our flesh.

Not always the innocents though...
...we too jab at others with our words...
...our inaction...
...our lack of trust in all that we are taught in Christ’s name.

Silver pieces mark that so often we respond to others in a worldly way...
...rather than a Godly way.

We act out of what is best for us as individuals...
...rather than recognising the cost to the community.

Lifting the silver today,
will we replace it in recognition of our desire
to live out God’s love in community.

Station 5

The Cross
(props - wooden cross, cut out flower shapes, pencils)

“When he had received the drink, Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’ With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

While reaching the foot of the cross marks the end of our Labyrinth journey,
the cross in Christian faith marks an end and a beginning.

Jesus speaks the words , ‘It is finished’,
and we hear this as more than a statement that his life has come to an end.
Instead we hear them as a comment of the strength of the old ways of human existence being challenged by his way,
a way where all people matter,
no matter their gender, age, ability, or colour.

The cross marks a beginning of hope.
Death gives way to possibilities of new things.
While we might struggle with the notion of an afterlife
we understand the need for resurrection, for re-birth.

Take time before you leave to clothe the cross with a mark of your hope for and end to something that will allow new hope or growth in your life, or the life of the community you are part of.

Flowers and pencils are available.
Feel free to either simply attach a flower,
or to write what it is that needs completed for there to be rebirth,
and then attaching it.

Your Journey Home

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,

may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

traditional gaelic blessing

"Old"

2010-03-04T00:15:00.000Z

For a while, although I would be hard pressed to tell you how long, when I've been referring to readings from what is considered the "Old Testament" as "A reading from the Older Testament".   It started at some point last year when the RCL focus was on Mark, as the more we worked away through the Gospel, the more connected to the Hebraic texts that lay behind the story I felt.   The more we lived in the Gospel of Mark, the more I found some of the literature from the older part of the Bible come alive. (One of the beauties of the Revised Common Lectionary is that you do return to texts, and I'm now on my fifth time round on them and still finding things I hadn't noticed before.)

In the process of that happening I wanted to remind the congregation that our faith had it's roots in something ancient, and yet something that still had value for the world today.   I know this is semantics and for most people in the congregation it probably didn't desperately matter whether they were "Scripture Readings" or "Old Testament Readings" or from the Gospels or from the letters.   However underlying my chain of thought was that we tend to disregard what is "old" as being something to be cast aside or worthless - unless of course it is antique.   We even do it with people which is one of the reasons I very rarely refer to "old" people, but prefer "older", reminding myself at the very least that all opinions matter.

I was conscious that some of the American churches used the word "original", but I suspected that wouldn't work so well.   And I thought that people might struggle to make a leap to "Hebrew" Bible.   So I settled with "Older".

There's not been a furore.   In fact I wonder if most people have even noticed.   However last week our new organist asked, and so I explained the above.   Tonight at our worship team meeting one of the congregation representatives raised it saying that one person near her had turned to someone who was about to read and said "if you read "older", then I will get up and walk out of the church."   So we chatted through why, and an article will make its way into the magazine sometime.   But in the meantime we need to get across to readers that they say what they are comfortable with.

Only one negative comment.   But if it is making people uncomfortable do I need to review it - or is this one of those occasions where the discomfort is probably worth the while?   Something to ponder over before we make it to the Management Committee meeting or eventually the Kirk Session meeting.   Of course the naughty thing to do would be to try "Hebrew Scriptures" or "Original Testament" and see what is said then.

But I'm not naughty!

Whispering moment

2010-01-29T19:35:00.000Z

I was just about to write a full blog about something that is happening here, and it suddenly occurred to me that occasionally people read this. So something is happening and as always I've been surprised - good surprised. There's something to tell and I will tell all soon.

Opportunities for Learning

2010-01-21T20:18:00.000Z

The last couple have weeks have offered the opportunity to enjoy some lectures.   Last week was a fascinating and truly enjoyable talk on "The Kirk and Scottish Literature", while tonight was "The Kirk and Visual Arts".

Since hitting the parish, I've often felt bereft of intellectual stimulous or the time to do it.   Amongst colleagues I often feel underprepared, and somewhat lacking in an underlying knowledge of the written word of any kind.   What thrilled me about last week's lecture, was not just the engagement of looking at the links between church and literature, but also an opportunity to perhaps encounter some texts that I hadn't read but that might also be readable.   And yet a silent thrill was to discover that I'm not as illiterate as I think I am, for many of the texts quoted from where things I had read, and things that I loved.   There are a few things that I've written down that I want to explore for the first time, or re-visit with fresh thoughts.

Tonight's lecture was given by John Lowrie Morrison (JoLoMo), who offered an opportunity to encounter the breadth of religious art, and yet also offered an opportunity to see the Reformation as an opporunity for flowering of Christian art - faith expressed through art, rather than depictions of Christian history.   So we were drawn to the light, texture, and creation of artwork.

I'm not sure I'll get to next week's lecture on Music, as I have a meeting about halls and possible develpments.   I'm now wondering how I could get that over with in an hour, to jump on the bus and stimulate my brain more.

The brain stimulation is working though as I'm reminded that further study is important.   It is not just for me, but for the people I would want to serve.   The university course I've been thinking of looks all the more enticing, and having broached with the Kirk Session about their support of my doing some further study I now feel more confident about finding those degree certificates and talking to some people about how to get going.

Do not be afraid...

2010-01-13T17:20:00.000Z

Last Sunday the elders led worship.   They had a ready prepared script with hymns already picked, and yet obviously as this was not a frequent occurrence for them they needed to rehearse and ensure it would all work for them.

Last week I was a bit of a huff - I have weeks like that.   During the week I managed to exhibit that huff on a few occasions, and one such occasion was following the rehearsal of the elders.   During the run through, they had decided that one of the hymns wasn't one that should be sung, and so, as I wasn't in the manse or church, left a message to say they wanted to change it.

I heard the message and I immediately knew which hymn it was, without even being told.   In the week prior to the rehearsal I had checked the hymns and thought they were all fine.   The organist and I changed one tune, but the rest were known to the congregation so therefore should work.

After lunch, the call to the elder was returned and I pretended not to know which hymn they wanted to change and sure enough I had it spot on.   "Why?", I asked.   "We didn't really think it was appropriate for children, and it's not known here."

At this point the huff started.   Of course it was known.   It has been used in worship in my time.   Of course it's appropriate to children.   What child doesn't need to know that God is with them at all times of life?   It matches the reading it follows.   And so I went on...

The elder agreed with my perspective and phoned the others to let them know that the hymn would not be changed.

But I felt guilty.   Guilty enough to e-mail the organist and ask if they would mind the hymn changing.   Guilty enough that while drinking coffee with a colleague and challenged as to why I had interfered in the Elders' Service I had had to think again.

Once home I phoned and apologised to the elder that I had huffed at, and the hymn was duly changed.

Why did I feel guilty?   For some of the elders this was a new experience and they needed to feel comfortable, and deep within me I knew the hymn made them feel uncomfortable for it spoke to the things that they were afraid of.   They needed to be comfortable and happy with what they were presenting, and if changing a hymn made them so then that was the thing to do.

Hilariously though when I mentioned the not knowing the hymn to the 17 year old choirmaster, he thought I was being funny.   He knew it and his only experience of church is this one.   But the call was the right one to make, and Sunday was a more than worthwhile experience.

A Bleak Mid-winter!?

2010-01-03T17:03:00.000Z

There was a rye smile on many a face this morning as I announced the closing hymn of "In the Bleak Mid-Winter".   After yet another snow shower this morning, a good number of people had abandoned their cars and pulled on their hiking boots to make their way to church.

The dilemma for the minister began at 10am this morning.   There had been a small part of me that had thought about checking the heating was working yesterday, but other things overtook and I didn't.   The reality is I don't think it would have made any difference.   However at 10am this morning the phone rang from the church to let me know that there was no heating in the sanctuary.   The light was on suggesting it should be working but there was no heat in the pipes.

Never one to make an instant decision, the office bearers there set about setting up the hall for worship as I thought about what to do.   Walking into the boiler house revealed the problem, and so there is a burst pipe to be fixed at some point this week.   I'm hoping we haven't made the situation worse by turning the heating to the sanctuary off entirely.

I don't like worship in the hall, as nothing is in the right place and the sound system doesn't work for me so well.   I find myself having to reign my voice in.   However not wanting to be in the hall was made worse with a new organist starting today, and not wanting them to feel uncomfortable in a new situation with strange happenings. But a decision had to be made and with people potentially complaining about the cold in the church we moved to the hall.   This time the complaint was not enough seats, but that is a good complaint to have.

The rye smiles though were for the fact that despite the weather as a congregation we have had a fruitful season, with people making real efforts to be here. The photo with this piece is one of my favourite of Christmas Eve. In the midst of falling snow many families felt it was important to be at our Christingle serve and so made their way here on sledges. The Christingle and Watchnight Service are two services that really touch our community with nearly 700 people appearing across both of them. So it was good that no matter what the weather people still wanted to celebrate God's gift of love to the world.

Gifting

2010-01-02T21:00:00.003Z

This is quite daring for me - to post a sermon before I've preached it. At the moment it is not quite finished, I will return to it in the morning. It is not quite where I planned to finish it in my head, although the notion that the whole of life including the pain and suffering is the gift is still what I plan to convey. Uncomfortable for some to hear this weekend after a fortnight of festivities.

Sunday 3rd January 2010
Epiphany
Isaiah 60: 1 - 6
Matthew 2: 1 - 12
Unusually this morning, we have sung “The Twelve Days of Christmas”.   While we might consider it a Christmas Carol, and while it may have made its way into the pages of “Carols for Choirs” it is very difficult to justify as a carol that we might sing as part of morning worship.   However this morning it is my gift to you,
a little bit of seasonal fun as we consider the gifts of the Magi to the Christ child.

As a youngster, “The Twelve Days of Christmas” was an important part of Christmas tradition. During the five year period that we sang in the choir of a Church of England congregation, this “carol” or nonsense song was always part of the annual choir Christmas concert that took place on the Saturday evening before Christmas. During that concert we sang all of the music that we had been learning from October onwards for the Advent, Christmas and Epiphany season, some that would have been used during Sunday and Christmas worship, and some that was purely for the concert.    It was also an opportunity to allow a little showing off amongst the young people, and those of us chosen to sing solos had an opportunity to show the full range that our voices could muster.

However, the Twelve Days of Christmas marked a moment in the concert when we were allowed to break free from our choir stalls, and sit in amongst the congregation.   In the week prior to the concert we would have been told which of the twelve gifts we were to be, and in twos and threes we would have rehearsed our own section adding in our own finesse and fun.   Some of it was about vocal finesse, while the other part was about imaginative fun. During the concert we made our away into the audience and were then there to encourage the small section of the audience roundabout us to sing our part along with us.   Sometimes it was merely about getting them to stand up at the right time, while other times there was some fancy note work or some actions to encourage them in.

So for youngsters it was an opportunity to have fun with music.   A carol never sung at any other time, as it seemed to have no real message or purpose within the Christian tradition.

Or does it?

As is often the case with nonsense songs, there is often a story that goes along with them that may dispel the thought that it is nonsense, or may further add to the belief that it is nonsense.

The story can be found in many places, and yet my version of it is found in “Uncle John’s Great Big Bathroom Reader”.   It suggests that the song originates from the mid 16th Century, at a time when expressing your Catholic faith was difficult. The song was written and used as a way of expressing belief and teaching the catechism.   And so each of the gifts speaks of a marvellous gift given by God.

Twelve drummers were the 12 points of faith in the Apostles’ Creed.
Eleven Pipers were the 11 faithful disciples.
Ten Lords were the 10 commandments.
Nine ladies were the professed gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Eight maids were the eight beatitudes.
Seven swans, the seven sacraments of the Roman Church.
Six geese represented the six days of creation.
Five gold rings reminded the believer of the first five books of the bible,
the Pentateuch.
Four calling birds were the four gospels and the four evangelists who wrote them.
Three French hens were faith, hope and charity or love.
Two turtle doves were the Old and New Testaments.

And finally a partridge in a pear tree spoke of Jesus Christ.

Investigating through books and the internet, there are a variety of sources that would agree with these thoughts on a seeming nonsense song. The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes does not go as far as to suggest that it is a catechism song, but instead suggests that the 12 gifts may have significance as foods or sports for each of the months of the years.

Matching the positive thoughts on the song though, there are other views who see this thought of a catechism song as folklore or a modern urban myth.   The debunkers of the myth look at the period into which the song is said to have been important as a catechism song, and point out that while there is truth in the persecution of the Catholic faith, there is little merit in the belief that this song highlight truths that were remarkably different from the Church that would emerge from the reign of Henry the VIII onwards.   There would also seem to be little correlation between the differing gifts and the tenet of faith it represents,   and so there are questions as to how each of the items would enable a child to remember.

Whether or not the song is a catechism song, or a forfeiture song – a song whereby people took their turn and wither sang the verse right, of paid a forfeit, it has an opportunity though to speak of the giving of God.
For in the multiplicity and extravagance of the gifts, we are asked to remember the overwhelming nature of God’s gifts given to us.

So from a song of gifting, we move to our Biblical gifts as we move towards the twelfth day of the Christmas period and journey to Epiphany.   Our readings focus on Isaiah and Matthew, and Matthew itself draws on the book of Isaiah as an opportunity to demonstrate that Jesus was the fulfilment of ancient prophecy.

It is not new to say to this congregation that there is a possibility that the Nativity narratives found in the gospels of Matthew and Luke may not speak of historical events, but are instead stories that reveal the truth of who Jesus is in the world.   And as we approach the house where Jesus is to be found with the magi
perhaps it is worth bearing that in mind.   For the physicality of the gifts they offer may not be the important thing, but instead the truth that they unveil about Jesus is prime.

In the book “The First Christmas” by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, much time is spent examining closely what it is that each of the Nativities stories seeks to do if they are not history.   Perhaps I should say
that by a good number of people Borg and Crossan are considered maverick in their thoughts, and yet I suspect that what they say perhaps fits comfortably with the views of people sitting in the pew.

There view of both Nativity stories is that they are both parabolic overtures to the story of Jesus.   For the musicians and musical lovers that notion of an overture us perhaps important, for in an overture the style of music for a show or opera is set, and highlights of what is to come played out.   In the gospels, Jesus speaks in parable of what the kingdom of heaven is like, and so in these birth stories that style is borrowed, and the highlights of what the purpose of Jesus’s life will be is played out in the telling of a story of the beginning.   When we look at Luke’s narrative as an overture of the gospel then we discover three themes will be brought out in the story – an emphasis on women, the marginalised and the Holy Spirit.   While Matthew’s Gospel offers the major theme of a basic parallel between Moses and Jesus.   Jesus is portrayed as the new Moses.

This parabolic overture theme is of particular importance when it comes to this Sunday of Epiphany, of unveiling or revealing, for it reminds us that the gift we have been given is bigger than a human form, but instead an invasion of God into human existence to allow for an encounter of his love.   The gifts themselves of gold, frankincense and myrrh are glorious gifts, but it is not the physicality of them that is most important,
but instead the story and myth around them that speak of who Jesus will be in human life.

So we recognise that the gold speaks of Christ’s kingship, and that frankincense will speak of his priestly role within the community of faith, while the myrrh, as an embalming oil, foretells of Jesus’s eventual death.   We are more than happy to live with lovely gifts of gold and incenses, but do we want to live with a gift that speaks of death.

This notion of gifts saying more than the physicality of the gift is something that we live with today, although perhaps because we live with it we don’t always recognise it.   We might “say it with flowers”, and we can say a variety of things from love to sorrow.   Even birthday and Christmas gifts for the giver and receiver
often convey more than mere words can say.   Although to suggest that a gift of bath things conveys anything g more than the receiver needs to relax, might be considered a little unkind.

But I want to wander back to the discomfort of the gift as I head to some kind of close this morning.   If the myth behind the story of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” that it is a catechism song written that the faith might be passed down to those whose were being persecuted for what they believed is true, then while it is a wonderful truth it is also unpleasant as it reminds us of what we do to each other in faith.   If the truth behind the nativity myths is that they reveal the purpose of God’s son from the beginning chapters, then that is uncomfortable for we are asked to encounter from the earliest words the reality that the son of God was not immediately recognised or universally accepted.

Yet the discomfort of a gift is a reality that as humanity we are asked to recognise in the story of Jesus.   For life is full of uncomfortable gifts that we are asked to open and in our faith respond to.   In amongst the lovely gifts of riches and sweet smelling existence, there are the tough times and choices, the living alongside poverty and ill health.   These are gifts that cannot be ignored or set aside or left upwrapped.   Instead from the opening overtures of the story of God’s interaction with humanity we meet that the gift is revealed when we respond to God’s love and play our part.   The gift is revealed when the fullness of faith is played out in human existence.

Advent Concluding

2009-12-22T00:48:00.000Z

This weekend past marked for me the final step towards Christmas.   The last weekend before Christmas here is always the Nativity service, and that in itself lends challenges to the role of minister.   Yet the day is always a day of contrasts as we move from Nativity to Communion at the close of the morning service, and then spend an hour in the afternoon thoughtfully encountering "Blue Christmas".

So what challenges can a simple Nativity play send the way of a minister?

In recent years it has been good to have a non-Sunday School person in charge of the Nativity.   They have coached the children in their lines; thought about stage direction; cast the whole thing. And for the most part it works well and I need have very little to do with it, except smile sweetly at the end and say how good it was.

This year involved new challenges though, like the suggestion that perhaps the stage could be put up prior to worship of last week's service - thus allowing the cast to immediately rehearse at the close of worship.   I fell back to the minister's usual stance of "I'll think about it" and walked away to mutter under my breath.   Two days later those who asked suggested themselves that it was unrealistic - once they realised that there was a baptism and three professions of faith that morning.   I think the thought of ministers mountaineering across staging to the various parts of the chancel used during such a service was too much.

Having found a version of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" that spoke of the star's importance in the Nativity, I thought it would be nice for the two ministers to have a little fun at the Nativity service and so we dueted.   I however forgot that my own child would take umbridge at the incorrect words being sung.   The child proceeded to cry and put her fingers in her ears at what I'm told was a rather good rendition of the nursery rhyme.   Said child was duly removed from church once her mother had finished singing while the other minister carried on with worship.   Mrs. Claus has since phoned the house requesting a conversation with the child and the child is now aware they are close to the naughty list and are attempting various versions of "good and kind".   (For those wondering how such a feat may happen, it involved text messaging your home phone, and hoping the BT voice will come good for you.)

Blue Christmas functions as an alternative to the merriment of the earlier service, and several people take advantage of the different atmosphere.   This is our 8th year, and while numbers are never huge, for the few who come it offers an opportunity to reflect on those they miss and the situations they struggle with.   It often functions with where I am with being fed up with the season, as I still struggle with this need to celebrate Christmas before the event.   So yesterday we reflected on being "exiled" from the communities that we seek to be part of, because we cannot share the values of those communities.   (My congregation know all to well that Christmas trees before the 24th is an outrage to me - although they also recognise that to keep my small people happy it goes up 5 days before because they cannot understand why we need to be different.)   There is something precious about waiting, about being creative in how we spend that time, and yet we live in a world where everything has to happen now.

This week heralds a Carol Celebration, and then Christingle, Watchnight and Christmas Day.   Christingle has become one of the favourite services here.    A good number of the community come to share in the expectation and the bathing in twinkling light.   My story for the evening is searched out, and I think the only thing still to do is make sure we have enough candle lighters.   Then in the first verse of "Away in a Manger"   in the twinkling darkness as the children sing, I will have my annual sob.

Watchnight is a work in progress.   Prayers are written, however I need to settle down at some point in the next two days and put down some ideas for a sermon.

And Christmas Day, while I will be in attendence, I will arrive just in time with my family and sit and let my colleague lead the show.   Finally the waiting will have ended, and the gift of God's love will be opened among us again.

Hopefully the reminder of naughty list will not needed again and we will get to the event in good spirits.

In the meantime I am continuing in the waiting, hoping that creativity might strike.

Gaudete

2009-12-13T13:55:00.001Z

This year has been full of wonderful moments when I have been so encouraged by where I am and the people I serve. Today was no less an eperience.

We marked "Gaudete" with an infant baptism and with three professions of faith and admissions to membership. All of those making promises are people who have become part of the life and worship around our building, and very much welcomed by the people who were already here.

To conclude the celebrations one of those making their profession asked me to mark the back of her birth certificate with her profession of faith date. How humbling to complete the cycle of promises made over 40 years ago!.

A full service was brought to an end with an opportunity to drink tea and eat mince pies - during which I discovered there are three baptisms to open the new year with, as well as those who are thinking of ways that they can better serve the congregaion by giving a little more of their time.

With still two Sundays of the year to go, I feel very blessed at the good year I have enjoyed here, and look forward to marking God's love amongst within the next fortnight.

Preparing for the Preparation

2009-12-03T23:00:00.000Z

For a few years now I have taken the first week in December, including the second Sunday of Advent, as a holiday.   I've done so for a number of reasons.   In part it is to give myself a little rest before heading into the last three weeks of relentless parties, mince pies and Christmas carols.   It is also an opportunity to do most of the Christmas shopping, and therefore know it will not have to be hurriedly fitted in around other things.   This also tends to be the week though when my husband is involved in lighting an "am-dram" production, and my being on holiday means that there are no evening meetings and so the children are assured that their other parent will be home for the evening.

Those who know me well know that I am not very good at taking holidays around the manse.    I can't resist peaking at the caller display to see who is phoning.   If there are the odd e-mails that appear, I will respond to them.

This inability to rest completely has been made worse this week by members of the congregation failing to read the intimations.   Mrs. Gerbil was exploring the question of church notices being read out a few weeks ago, and I responded there.   But my experience this week has further reinforced why the intimations should be read even if there is a printed sheet.

Normally I read all the intimations, or at the very least draw attention to them.   I've done so for most of my ministry, and do so for two good reasons.   One is that people tend to take in what they hear, and are therefore more likely to then read the church notices.   But I aslo do it because we should never assume literacy no matter how middle class a congregation.    It was good to find out though that in terms of disability legislation this was good practice.

This Sunday however was busy with our Uniformed Organisations present in church, and therefore I skipped reading out that I would be on holiday.   So this week I've had phonecalls, people turning up at the door, and plenty emails to keep me busy.   To make it all the more amusing, my phone message is very clear about what you should do and who you should contact.   And yet, many have felt that they should just leave a message anyway.   Of course the message couldn't possibly mean you!

Perhaps they just know me well.   As in this week of rest, I've done a little Advent and Christmas church preparation as well.   For in the evenings when the children have gone to bed I've managed to pick hymns and readings and sort Christmas cards - as well as be mum and sew sequins to a tutu.   This weekend I plan to find some Advent worship somewhere else, and enjoy the invasion of Christ into the hustle and bustle of ordinary people trying to find space for the extraordinary.

Company

2009-11-23T21:55:00.007Z

For the last few months I've been sharing my ministry with someone from overseas. While they are already ordained, they are required by the church to undergo a familiarisation process. I've been quite enjoying it, although it is harder work than I expected.

The benefits have definitely been in the challenge it has offered to reflect upon by own ministry, style of worship, and practice of care. The last few months have seen my shake of lethargic tendencies, and have meant that I've upped a gear on the preparation for worship.

In some ways that sounds awful, as it suggests I wasn't working before. However that was not the case. Just sometimes when everything else caves in a week, preparation for worship can become the last minute things and on occasion remembering the words of a one-time supervisor - "what's the point of preparing drivel when someone has taken time and imagination" - has been important.

However having a companion has inspired me to be creative. I've rediscovered a thirst for reading, and have found some fascinating things, some of which have translated nicely into recent preaching. It has also made me question again some of our more peculiar practices. Do they speak of God, or are they just a comfort?

I've also rediscovered the congregation. It's good to see them through other peoples' eyes, and to then ask the questions that you ask at the beginning of a relationship again. Who are they? Why are they here? What is important to them?

The disadvantages are also prevalent. Extra work, and spending late evenings catching up on the small things that enable you to get by. Keeping the jealousy in check - might they like the other person more than me? And unfulfilled expectations in the other person.

At this late stage in a very short period of time, the advantages have far outweighed the disadvantages. In the run up to Christmas it is good to have someone to share the load with and hopefully the opportunity to still have a voice in January.

Losing a Friend

2009-11-21T12:21:00.006Z

I've not been blogging for a few weeks, partly because the many tasks to be accomplished each day have been slightly more than usual, and partly because emotionally there have been some tough times recently. In the midst of those emotions it was important to retreat into the safe place within, so that the caring professional could stand to the front.

There are a number of people with varying kinds of cancers at varying stages, a good number of whom I would count as friends. At the beginning of the year, I thought that by this stage in the year I would have lost a good number of them through death. My thoughts haven't entirely happened, although there has been a loss of three from that group - two within the last month. These three deaths and their respective funerals have been tough. I've been here too long now to not care about the people involved. It is no longer (if it ever was) the loss of the life that matters, but instead the impact onto the close family and into congregational life. As the families have laughed and cried, some of the stories told I now share and know, for my family and the church family are entwined into the framework of who the people were.

The last of the three was particularly difficult (and I would question whether a funeral is ever easy). The lady involved was an elder, part of the group who were involved in calling me. She has cared for one or both of my children, ensured that my house was painted, sorted out my garden so the pram could get in, and become very much part of our family life. For the last three years she has known that death was coming, and particularly this year has been aware that these last few months were her last. And because of that she has set herself goals to live to - enjoying a 70th birthday party and a wedding - and then feeling that every day after these goals was a gift she didn't expect.

Her living so openly with death has allowed many people to tell her of how precious she was to them, and how her living had touched their lives. Unlike some people, she died in full knowledge that she was loved.

She was always immensely organised. She has had a funeral prepared since 1998, and so on her death I was handed a ready prepared order of service - seven hymns over two services with all the readings that were precious to her and spoke of her faith. A good friend of hers prepared a tribute for me to work with and then read. All I had to do really was to prepare prayers, and something meaningful and thoughtful for the family and close friends at the committal.

All funerals are tough, yet this has been particularly tough for I said goodbye to a friend and a confidante. I always knew the longer you stayed somewhere the tougher it became, but this was the first time it has been apparent just how tough.

However while I miss her, I also know she would have been the first person the day after to say "okay, lets get on" - and so we do. Although I'm not sure who is cutting the ribbon and the foil ready for Christingle making, or who will make the cheese scones. Meanwhile she continues to make us laugh as friends left with memories of her - for if there is a physical place called heaven then she has already rearranged the cupboards and organised everything into Tupperware boxes. And in her breaks she's standing at the gates taking in the scene and chatting to Peter, with her fly cigarette in hand.

A Young, Female Thing

2009-10-08T17:29:00.003+01:00

It is funny how our parish and presbytery situations colour our view of the church, and those we share the task of ministry with. I've been in ministry for 13 years and ordained for 11 and a half, and in that time I have just assumed that as I have got older I must now be of an equivalent age to a good number of ministers across Scotland. I celebrated my 40th birthday this year, and no longer felt I could claim I was young. My parish situation means that I am colleagues with a number of women who are of a similar age to me. Many of my friends in ministry are of a similar age, if not gender, to me.

Yet today I was at a consultation day for an area of work that I'm presently involved in, and I felt like a child. There were only two women there, and I was the youngest in the room by at least 10 years.

I had to have a word with myself before eating lunch, as when I had arrived in the room earlier in the day I had resorted to my introvert state of looking at all these grey haired men, and seeing myself as someone with nothing to contribute and knowing that they would have all the answers. When I returned to the room to eat, I enjoyed the chat I had with two of my colleagues and finding out more about them and their situations.

However just as I hoped I might grow up one day, I find I am still a young thing. So maybe I still have plenty opportunity to be outrageous and put some of my more subversive thoughts into action. Although I'm sure the church will continue to make them mainstream, as it accommodates outrageous reformation.

Writing weddings

2009-10-05T20:34:00.003+01:00

For only the second time in 11 years, I'm sharing a wedding in November. It takes place in my church, and tomorrow I am meeting with the other minister to agree who does what. While I enjoy the sharing practice when we eventually get there, I'm always slightly concerned about the who gets the ball rolling preparation. I'm not very good at meetings where there is not a a small piece of pre-prep for haggling over. However I'm also conscious that sometimes one person's pre-prep often stops the other person being creative.

These are trivial things to worry about, but helpful diversions from other things at the moment.

A death

2009-09-18T11:39:00.005+01:00

Last night the second of our two cats had to be put to sleep. The first had a serious heart condition that led to her eventual death (by injection) in early June. The wee thing hadn't eaten for several days and was looking scrawny and unable to get to food bowl or litter tray. Chicken hearted I sent my husband to the vet with her, and she already has a bush covered plot within the garden.

When I arrived home last night to find the heating on in an already hot house, the second cat appeared to be lounging in the hall. However when I passed her a second time I noticed that she hadn't moved and that her back legs looked wrong. On investigation it became apparent that she could no longer move her back legs. Again my husband took her to the vet, and we knew she would not come home alive. She had the same heart condition, but unfortunately had a blood clot which had stopped the blood going to her legs. It was only a matter of time before she would have been in a huge amount of pain.

The children have taken the loss of our family pets well, and tonight we will say another farewell in the garden, and this time plant some apple trees to mark their place of rest.

However this morning I don't feel very brave.

The cats came to live with us long before the arrival of children and in the months following my first escapade with a DVT and pulmonary embolisms. In the midst of the depression that followed my brush with immortality they were companions in the house when others had to be at work, and over the years have been faithful companions around the house when preparing for worship or funerals.

They were not overly demanding companions, but good company and listening ears that didn't make unnecessary response when you needed a rant.

I know that part of my bereftness is not just the missing of the companionship, but also the acknowledgement that I've survived 15 years that in the midst of one August week it looked like I might never have. I am truly thankful for the journey that two feline friends have walked with me.

"The Shack"

2009-09-12T20:10:00.003+01:00

The Reading Group at the church have asked that I read a book and attend their November meeting. In the early days of the reading group I attended regularly and more often than not lead the group. The selection of books has been quite diverse over the 2 years it has been running for. They started with "Friday and Robinson", then moved to "The Testament of Gideon Mack", "The Memory Keeper's Daughter", "The Island", Barack Obama's books - really quite a diverse selection. However the more recent meetings have quite happily happened without me, allowing me to head off to meetings.

However November sees them discuss "The Shack" by William Young. For some reason they feel they need my opinion on it. I'm not sure why as this is a group that contains some very theological literate folk.

I've done as I was told and read the book, and now am leaving it a couple of weeks before re-reading it for the right night.

To be honest I'm not sure what to think of it. I quite like some of the imagery. I like the notion of the character of the Holy Spirit as someone that you can't quite catch sight of when you look head on. I like the relational nature between the three parts of the Trinity.

The multi-racial depiction of the separate parts of God was a great idea, however it didn't disturb me. So while the lead character of the book "Mack" is to be disturbed from his preconceived notions of God, I felt I had mine confirmed.

I didn't like the schmalzy, sentimentality. I found the story to easily resolved.

Perhaps another read through will offer more food for thought, and maybe I'll use a pencil to mark the more poignant or frustrating passages.

Thankfully this evening this sermon was finished early, thus allowing a more restful afternoon and thoughts of a quiet Sunday afternoon and what we could do as a family. Makes a change from the normal flypast of a weekend.

Getting the juices going

2009-09-05T17:17:00.003+01:00

It's a struggle this week to think of where to start with the sermon.

I've an idea to start with couthy, Fife phrases - thanks to Nik in August. I too have a "Little Book of Calvin", which while I find them amusing, for me carry too much resonance of familiarity. With Fife parentage, and a one-time charge in the area, I recognise these phrases as something people genuinely say.

Phrases like:
"If ye dinnae stop yir greetin, Eh'll gie ye something tae greet aboot"
"Dinnae complain. It's better than a skelp ower the fais wi a wet kipper."
"If it didnae hurt it wiznae worth doing"

Folk have said these things to me. Maybe not just my parents, but grandparents and congregation members.

These phrases all came flurrying to mind along with others as I read the Lectionary texts this week. In thinking about why, it is the sheer honesty of what the Scriptures offer the reader this week.

In Proverbs, these three sets of words are combined because they share the thought of valuing others and generosity above the love of wealth. While in the Gospel we are challenged with the honesty of women in her encounter with Jesus. As part of God's wonderful creation, how can their not be a place for her. Then finally in James, there is the reminder that Christian faith is inclusive and honest.

One of my frustrations about my present congregation is the lack of honesty - not that they are deceitful. But it is difficult to know what they are thinking, where they feel God is leading them, how they want to live out their Christian faith in our community. These are tough questions to answer I know. However sometimes I long for some good Fife honesty - a slap in the face with a wet kipper - that gets straight to the point, lets you know where you are, and then you get on with the task that the people of God have set for you.

Big fearty that I am, there's probably not a chance I'm going to say tomorrow morning "Stop hiding behind you mask of societal norms for this area", but I can dream. Hmmm... where to start...

Amazing Women

2009-08-28T10:45:00.009+01:00

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

2009-08-21T18:31:00.004+01:00

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

2009-08-16T19:29:00.004+01:00

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

2009-08-11T16:56:00.000+01:00

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

2009-08-07T11:13:00.000+01:00

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

2009-08-05T23:25:00.000+01:00

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

2009-08-01T17:56:00.000+01:00

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.

Clerical Collars

2009-07-28T20:27:00.001+01:00

This will seem a strange post, and yet something that I have for some reason given a lot of thought to over the last few weeks, following my visit to York Minster. As I said in an earlier post, because of the Synod meeting that weekend, at worship I found it virtually impossible to find a seat where there were not clergy folk sitting around me. How did I know they were clergy? Because of the wide variety of people who had their piece of plastic strapped to their neck in their beautifully crafted J & M shirt.

I should say that I am a wearer of a clerical shirt myself. I tend not to wear it while visiting, or daily tasks. But a freshly ironed and pressed shirt appears on a Sunday and for funerals. In the 13 years of performing the tasks of ministry, it has on occasion proved helpful, getting me through doors of houses where people didn't believe I was old enough to be a minister, or the right gender. It has given me some hilarious moments at petrol stations, as those who obviously didn't believe I was old enough or the right gender have stopped and stared, to be jabbed in the ribs by whoever was with them. (I thought that was what they were staring at - perhaps I was wrong and missed the strange alien object spattered across my face or clothes.)

However it has always struck me that the place not to wear it is when you are attending another church for worship. These are sacred moments when we as clergy get the opportunity to return to the congregation and be ministered to. An opportunity to encounter God's grace in the inspiring words of another.

Of course I realise that the Synod meeting is like the General Assembly, and the very best clerical collars are dragged out as people make a public declaration of a church at work - seeking God's Spirit in discussion and encounter with the world.

Swine Flu and Sacraments

2009-07-24T20:49:00.000+01:00

It's interesting to note that the Archbishops of York and Canterbury have written a letter to offer advice on the administration of sacraments during the swine flu pandemic. Having read the letter I'm wondering if the Church of Scotland will be offering advice at a national level, or perhaps there not worrying at the moment as we're mid holiday seasons and many churches won't now be celebrating communion until late September.

My mother suggested that it was because they diluted the wine and we used fortified wine. I've queried her on this, as we still have to touch the bread and not every church uses fortified wine.

Of course I'm interested in a tongue in cheek way. The reality is that every time we celebrate the sacraments, someone out there somewhere has some bug that anyone of us could catch. The sacraments are about the breaking down of barriers and I can't help think that in our panic over this flu we will put in barriers that terrify people from accepting God's grace.

Thinking ahead

2009-07-22T20:15:00.000+01:00

Although I'm not officially back from holiday until tomorrow, I've taken the opportunity to get started on preparations for the weekend and beyond.

Spotting that the Funeral Director had attempted to phone yesterday afternoon and knowing that the person who is covering for me heads off on holiday tomorrow, I rang first thing to see if there had been a decision about when a funeral might take place and who was doing it. It turns out to be a slightly more distressing parish funeral, with the deceased having died on holiday abroad, so much of the planning is still in the early stages and won't be confirmed until the beginning of next week. However the day and time are provisionally set, and in the middle of B&Q this afternoon I set things in motion for something over a week away. In the meantime though I suspect that an early visit to the family over the weekend may be in order.

Having phoned the Funeral Director and set about my troublesome computer (it's only a year old), I looked at files of past baby blessings and finished putting together the order for this Saturday's. It's not something I do particularly often and have only ever been asked to do since coming to this charge. My first was for the family I revisit this weekend. They played a big part in the original wording and thoughts, and that order has changed as I've reflected upon the practice and purpose of such a ceremony. Fortunately my Kirk Session are supportive of this development, seeing it as an opportunity to touch lives of those more reluctant to commit fully to Christian faith. One or two of them usually accompany me to offer a church presence, and always find they are well received and invited to visit again. I await the parents' comments on the order as it has changed from their last child, and am hoping for a positive response as our two understandings of faith collide.

The hymns for both the services on Sunday are picked, and I'm relatively happy with how the orders of service have shaped up. Our early all-age service has a game and some making activity that I'm hoping that even if my children are the only children present others might feel they would like to participate in. The second service is the more comfortable traditional format. In between the two I'm hoping to encourage people through to a hall for some tea or coffee and maybe a freshly made scone. We'll see how I feel at 8am on Sunday morning.

So the thoughts for the second service. Lectionary based, I've discovered I've got the fabulous choice of David and Bathsheba or the feeding of the 5000, or the power of prayer. I've picked my theme - "Something out of nothing" - and suspect I'm going with the two New Testament readings. For a number of reasons I'll give adultery a bye on this occasion. I would kind of like to do that with the feeding of 5000 as well. Comes up every summer - not surprising when it is in every Gospel - and there are only so many times you can steal the congregations sweeties. Instead I'm thinking about looking at the family motifs that are undercurrents within the Gospel and the Epistle.

Perhaps more tomorrow when I take a closer look at the texts.

York Minister

2009-07-21T12:38:00.000+01:00

Although I'm officially still on holiday, we are back from York, the Highlands and the East Lothian Riviera. It has been a good relaxing time, enjoying each other's company, even if one of us can't get to sleep because there are three other people in the room - not me I hasten to add.

York was the perfect place to take a holiday. Once we were there, there was no need to use the car. Instead we spent three days walking round the city, perhaps on occasion a little too far and too often for the smallest member of our family. We've taken a bus tour, a boat trip and a ghost tour. Two of us climbed to the top of the Minster, while two of us headed to the crypt. We travelled back in time to Norman York at the Jorvik centre. We weren't particularly thrilled by the Railway Museum, but wouldn't rule it out if it were raining or you really liked looking at trains. There was lots of food eaten and drinks consumed. The hotel pool was well used, and some of us found the staff at the bar very helpful while others enjoyed being in the lounge playing on the Wii in the evening.

On Sunday morning I headed to the Minster for worship, having noted from our visit earlier in the weekend that John Sentamu was preaching. While my other half would have liked to have come along as well, we weren't sure about children in a different Sunday school or potentially managing a full Church of England Service. They instead worshipped the god of swimming and agreed to meet me outside the Minster at lunchtime.

Heading into the Minster by the main door, you were watched as you wandered through the door by students. I found no word of greeting. The place was absolutely packed, and it was very difficult to find a seat where you were not surrounded by groups of people wearing clerical collars. Picking up the order of service I realised that the reason the Archbishop was preaching was because the local synod were meeting. That also explained the large number of people wearing clerical collars.

The service was a strange combination of formal hymns, music and wording interspersed with a couple of lighter, more informal musical items. It was fabulous to note the tangible joy in the music leading into communion as we sang "Alle, alle, alleluia" (John Sentamu's arrangement of the Jamaican hymn we in Scotland know through John Bell's arrangement.) After the formal, uptight responses it felt that a spring had been let go and people around about swayed with the music - some near the front I think were even daring enough to clap.

What of John Sentamu's preaching? I went because I had heard good things, and what I heard confirmed that. I left feeling uplifted and included in what had been said. But I am aware that I also left a little disappointed as I didn't feel he said anything I wouldn't have dared to say myself. My favourite preacher is Gilleasbuig Macmillan. From teenage years, I have journeyed through his ups and downs of faith and wandered mystical paths. In my role in my own charge I have been criticised for not being academic enough in preaching (by one or two), and I have found myself wondering what they would have said about the Archbishop's preaching, as there was nothing in particular of academic weight just Christian truth. Perhaps what he said would have been considered academic by them, as it came from a middle-aged senior cleric.

As someone who was confirmed within the Anglican tradition, I quite like to return to the formal liturgy of communion and the wandering to receive the elements. It's so easy to slip back into old patterns and to be reassured by the comfort of them.

I will however continue to mull over my Minster experience as I think there are a few things that impact into what we do as a parish church: how important a welcome is; offering release points for emotion in worship; ensuring that all understand what is happening during the service; and ensuring that visitors don't get lost in the big events of congregational life.

Holidays and Ironing

2009-07-03T21:40:00.000+01:00

At last the holidays have arrived. The last few weeks have been about trying to fit in as much as possible. Like many I find myself trying to fit in the things I haven't had time for before, believing that in two weeks I might manage to fit them in. This year the efforts to get the hoped for visits done has been further complicated by a number of my folk dealing with various forms of cancer. One particular case changing from an easily managed form to a form that has far graver consequences, and much more devastating an impact to be had on both the family and the wider circle of friends.

All of these things made last week's readings of healing and generosity all the more poignant as we journeyed towards a celebration of communion. Tears were shed by some, including the minister, as readings were heard and hymns sung.

As a family we need our holiday now. We are all tired. It's been a struggle to get people out of bed in the morning, and small worries have become sparks for arguments. So all of us have been counting down the days, and despairing that the best of the weather seemed to be happening while we were working.

This morning saw most of us on holiday, and while normally we would have long since gone on a motor trip to catch a ferry late tonight, today we were out in the garden - playing, pulling weeds, tasting strawberries, planting vegetables, and spraying the garden and each other with water.

This afternoon I've taken time for my least favourite occupation - ironing. And have made it to the bottom of the pile!

Looking in the washing baskets I've another three loads to wash and iron before we can head of to our own house for our holiday this year.

Perhaps the ironing basket is one of the metaphors for ministry. The pile builds and sometimes we manage to make it to the bottom of that pile - although rarely. Just as we take pleasure in our achievement we are urged on to recognise that another pile beckons us on, and who knows what treats we will find there, or rumpled shirts in need of care and repair.

So I leave behind some unfinished situations this summer again, and hope that those I love will find the strength for the next few weeks. The family and I head off to restore our own strength - not abroad this year as we are saving for a big trip next year - but in North England and North Scotland, as well as a peaceful space of our own along the coast that will allow us to play on the beach and decorate a ceiling.

Promotion and Prize-giving

2009-06-18T17:25:00.000+01:00

Along with many other churches across Scotland this Sunday, my congregation will celebrate in worship the attendance of children at Sunday School with prizes and promote those of appropriate age to the next group. It is always an interesting Sunday, as it would appear that only the diehards will be in attendance for this welcoming of young people into the church.

It is a Sunday I find difficult to understand, as I have come from a background where children were encouraged to be part of the main diet of worship, and only the very young were offered an alternative. Yet my own children fit into the pattern of what happens here, and often based on behaviour I thank God for that.

However I know before I prepare prayers that attendance will be down this Sunday and not just amongst the adults who seem to struggle with an annual award ceremony, but also amongst children who by this stage in late June want to be outdoors making the best of the weather. So who or what is this Sunday for?

A more popular combining of adults and children happens at a service later in the year, where the whole church family shares in a worship service that also includes Sunday School type activities. The group gathers for a uniting act of worship and then, in what would be the sermon slot, the congregation splits to take part in art, music, dance, prayer and for those who can't live without a sermon there is a corner of the church dedicated to a sermon. It has only happened on a few occasions but I've been surprised by those who have been willing to embrace an alternative way of worship that includes children as equal participants in the story of God.

There are of course good reasons for some of our folk to be missing this year. A good number will be taking part in a variety of sponsored events this weekend, and I know that as a congregation we offer them all our encouragement in taking part.

However, the storms of the waters felt by the disciples will be lived out for me as once again:

I feel the frustration that we as God's people claim to welcome children and yet do not support them being there;
I recognise that what we do as Sunday School is not communicating the thrill and vigour of what it means to be a follower of Christ;
we turn love of God into a sit down lesson rather than an active movement;
those calling out the children refuse to use microphones because of course everyone will hear their whisper.

In the midst of all that happens there is the assurance of Jesus's voice calling "Peace, be still!" In that stillness may we be challenged to trust that God will steer the course in seeking new ways of communicating His message with all people.

Seeds

2009-06-13T01:01:00.000+01:00

It's 1am on a Saturday morning and really I should be asleep, or at least reading my book. However I'm also conscious that I'm only at the very early stages of sermon preparation for Sunday. It's been like this a lot recently. Life has overtaken me, or the manse has just been too noisy to study. This week I've taken the opportunity to catch up on some visits.

So here I am thinking about how I'm going to get anything down on paper by Sunday. Tomorrow I have a coffee morning and then lunch with some friends - so hopefully by mid-afternoon/early evening I might return to my desk to put together something. Although it might be nice to spend some time with the family as well.

The Lectionary suggests horticultural themes, and at the very least the planting of seeds and ignoring them.

I'm always relieved in reality what a great gardener the Creator is, because I'm useless. I have no ideas about where things should really be planted in the garden - whether in light or shade. I can't quite get the spacing right, and at the moment various areas of our garden look like a rambling mix of greenery and flowers, rather than the lush oasis of calm I was hoping for. Yet magically throughout the year fruit appears on various, plants, bushes and trees and we eat our fill and marvel at the fresh tasting delight. Flowers appear, and when we visit friends small posies of garden flowers are welcome gifts from children. The grass grows, and an area for play and rest appears below our feet to offer comfort.

Every so often I pretend to make an effort of genuine care for the garden. Weeds get pulled. Bushes pruned. Someone else cuts the grass. I wander about with a hose looking purposeful. Our kitchen waste is carefully recycled to produce bins full of compost. But I know in my heart of hearts that I do very little for the wonders that appear for ear, eye, hand and tongue.

Is that the simplicity of what the parable tells us this week? (Mark 4: 26 - 34) Don't worry about how the seeds of faith are scattered. Don't panic if you don't spend every minute tending those seeds until they come to fruit. All these things are in the hands of the Gardener. We're just the hired hands - the passing birds - the seed cases. We scatter widely. But God tends, waters, prunes, and brings to being the full blown plant.

Mmmm...perhaps a little too simple?

But some notes to get me thinking before the task of writing tomorrow.

The Amazing Opt Out

2009-06-06T16:54:00.001+01:00

I'm not very good at confrontation, and quite often when I feel that people have over stepped the mark I just let things go. Unfortunately this is not always a good tactic, as those that I fail to speak to think that they can continue to follow the patterns they have followed from before. On the occasions that I do speak to people, I end up apologising for saying anything at all. Then having spoken, I face the inner turmoil of maybe having upset someone - no matter that they perhaps upset me.

So I opt out of confrontation.

My opt out personality has even arisen for preaching this week. We face the mystery of the Trinity, and instead my folk will be having a Summer Sing. This is something the worship team asked if we could return to, and this Sunday seemed as good an opportunity as any. Some of the folk have picked their favourite hymn and will come out during worship to explain why they like it. From my perspective it is an easy Sunday.

And yet given that this was a request from them, I still feel I have opted out. However perhaps the understanding of the relation of the Trinity will be found in the singing of diverse hymns. Each hymn very different, speaks of something new about God and perhaps we will be encouraged to grasp the breadth of purpose to be found in God's love. A love that speaks to all who hear, and is expressed in a multitude of words and songs, that others might meet it.

Quiet conversations

2009-06-02T00:51:00.001+01:00

It's the small conversations that happen in a week that often have the most impact on my preaching, or my journeying through an issue. Over the last few weeks, I've been thankful for small, quick, gentle conversations that have marked my day and reminded me of the strength of call within to serve as a parish minister. Given the numerous words that can be found elsewhere about recent events in the Church of Scotland, it is wonderful to find people who can say so much in so little. So I am thankful for the man who caught me in the corridor after coffee one Sunday and reminded me that all people matter no matter race, gender, age or sexuality. And I'm thankful for the sometime grumpy elder who stunned me by reminding me that we are all afraid of the things we are uncertain of.

Tonight at a meeting I opened with Luke 13: 18 - 21, encountering the little pictures of what God's kingdom is like. And in the small conversations I find that those little pictures are added to, that my (our) understanding of the kingdom might grow.