Day of rest and gladness

I awoke early enough to take an eight o'clock service, but this morning didn't have to, as I'm on leave, so I relaxed in bed and wondered where to go to church today. I ended up with the default venue - Llandaff Cathedral - and for the first time heard the new organ. It looks superb, a fine addition to one of the city's treasured, if under-promoted buildings. Let nobody moan about the cost, high quality is expensive, and as long as there's no penny pinching about maintenance, it will have centuries of life, unless it falls victim to a unforeseen revolution in musical taste.

There were about three hundred people there, with quite a number of young families. Everything was beautifully done, as ever. It was impressive to get through a full sung service, with a decent length sermon and baptism in sixty five minutes, though to my liking the pace was rather brisk. The same liturgy steered by me would last ten minutes longer - more pauses to ponder. Children's presence and activities during the service notwithstanding, I find it hard to get used to the hum of conversation post-communion, being used to more contemplative silence among the little flock at St John's. Nevertheless, it's just good to be on the receiving end, and not to have to think about whatever comes next. A real liturgical holiday.

I left the car in the UWIC car park to give myself a couple of minutes walk alongside the churchyard before and after. When I left, there were a hundred or so adults and children out and about, getting ready for the other religious event of the morning - junior rugby matches. The timing of these events gives some families a real conflict of interest, between the demands of sport and worship. I don't suppose that's ever been any different, since the time of the ancient Greeks. Does sport have more to offer to young families by way of encouragement and inspiration than Christian worship? If so, maybe the churches need to revisit what pastoral care and liturgy are meant to achieve in the nurture of rising generations.

An acquaintance among departing worshippers hailed me as I was crossing the car park: "Unemployed?" she said with a grin. I smiled and waved back. No small talk this morning. A wren began to chirrup loudly in a churchyard tree above my head. The fact that I could listen to it attentively without being distracted by busy Sunday thoughts filled me with great pleasure.