A Bleak Mid-winter!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.