Passing generations

My first Sunday duty today was at St Marychurch. After the Eucharist the congregation of eleven stayed on to discuss what to do about the proposed 'Back to church Sunday' on the last Sunday of the month. This is a small but lively village where more people support the church and its charity fund raising events with money and help than ever darken its doors. How to respond to the initiative in a sensitive way? That was the question.

Like many churches, this little flock collects for the local Foodbank - could this be an occasion to augment the local appeal? Why not? But how about focussing on bringing the village together in or around the church, to express appreciation to everyone who has involved themselves in supporting church initiatives, as a starting point? That's an idea to be mulled over, and it may take longer than the four weeks before that 'Back to church Sunday' event is due to take place - but something of value will happen as a result of their thoughtfulness, I'm sure.

My second service was at Llansannor. Eleven adults and three children. Among the dead we prayed for Cliff Morgan, Welsh rugby star of the fifties, TV sports commentator and presenter through the decades following. Two members of the congregation had known him personally throughout their adult life. Wales is a small world, made coherent by lasting friendships and enthusiasm for performance arts - music, theatre, politics, rugby, and once upon a time, preaching - albeit no longer. Most of my  compatriates have lost their taste for religious discourse and drama. Perhaps it's just as well. To be regarded as a star preacher would render the most devout soul vulnerable to pride and vanity. We suffer from an overload of these, even in decline.

 

On the way home, I collected Clare from the market, and we had a light lunch. Owain came around for dinner in the evening - a tapa of ham and broad beans, followed by roast duck, beetroot tops, spuds and rainbow carrots, washed down with Argentinian Pinot Noir, and followed by the promised plum and blackberry crumble. So delighted he's starting a new job tomorrow.

 

We learned of the death of Sir David Frost on the lunchtime news - another key figure in public life when I was young, following Alan Whicker last month and Cliff Morgan two days ago. It's that time of life for my generation.