Waiting for hostages to be released

I woke up to a cold dry day, on time to post the YouTube link to Thursday's Morning Prayer on WhatsApp, just before BBC's Thought for the Day.  

In the news, delays to the Gaza hostage exchange due to attention to detail - provision of lists of names of people to be exchanged, and a firm agreement about suspension of Israeli surveillance drone flights to enable hostages to be taken secretly to a site where the International Red Cross/Crescent will implement the exchange at the Rafah border crossing, acting in its traditional neutrality role. It seems they will be taken first into Egypt for initial medical checks and then flown to Tel-Aviv. 

Hamas doesn't want anyone to see exactly where or how hostages arrive at the exchange location, as this information can later be used to target Hamas tunnel network access points. There's still a risk that satellite surveillance will deliver similar data with today's high resolution spy satellite cameras. If that's been discussed, it's not been disclosed!

Clare went to the School of Optometry after breakfast and I went to Tesco's for groceries for our Foodbank donation and took them to St John's in time for the Eucharist, celebrated by Fr Colin. After coffee I went back home to finish work on this week's Sway, and getting it checked by Iona, who's good at spotting any errors I miss. I cooked a dish of spicy butter beans and mushrooms with veggies for lunch in time for Clare's return. After we'd eaten, rather later than usual, I did this week's Sway link mailshot, then went for a walk until it got dark.

After supper more material arrived for the Ministry Area 'Countdown to Christmas' SWAY supplement, and as there wasn't much of interest to watch on telly so I dealt with that instead until it was time for the news. Not that anything much has changed during the day. The world waits with bated breath to see if the temporary ceasefire and hostage exchange starts as promised in eight hours time.

A new year begins and another is remembered

We attended the Advent Sunday Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's today. In the afternoon Clare went to the German Lutheran Church concert with Royal Welsh College singers taking part at Conway Road Methodist Church, just around the corner from us. I hankered for a traditional Anglican start to Advent, and walked to the Cathedral at sunset for the Advent procession of Carols. Everything about it was beautiful and excellent - choice of music, much of it expected, but a few delightful modern surprises as well, with superb singing by the Cathedral choir. 

The nave of the Cathedral was full, though not the side aisles. Finding a seat with a good view meant walking right around the place. Texts were in English, with a little Latin, but no Welsh was used, sadly. I was a little disconcerted that the subdued 'vigil' lighting was just too dim for me to read from the hymn sheet. A sing of my age. I need much brighter light these days, and dared not resort to using my phone flashlight to see by. 

My eyes welled with tears during the opening responsory and hymn, sensing with heartfelt gratitude the continuity between this beginning of Advent liturgy, and worship in my student days, when my faith came fully alive and claimed me for priestly ministry. At the end of my first University term, I attended an Advent weekend silent retreat which opened my mind and heart in a way that has had a lasting effect on my life. Following this a month later with a Holy Week retreat with the Franciscans at Cerne Abbas completed what began at Advent.

Later, we watched the last episode of the dramatisation of Le Carre's 'Little Drummer Girl' on BBC One. It was a complex story of deception and betrayal, as spy stories are meant to be but I found the ever so stylish and authentic presentation just a little too disjointed to follow easily, cutting between sets of characters and scenarios without it being easy to figure out who was who, where they were and how the fitted in the story, despite occasional use of location titles. Good, but not really good enough to be gripping or persuade you care enough about the characters, all of whom seem to be in different ways, ruthless, cruel, manipulative and callous, on both sides of the Arab Israeli conflict. In the meanwhile, fifty years after this story was set, nothing really seems to have changed. The world continues to watch, seemingly helpless to effect any true justice and reconciliation on a scale which really matters.