Clerical Collars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.