Christmastide ends

An overcast day waking up to 'Sunday Worship' on Radio 4 from Liverpool's Catholic Cathedral, with the Latin Ordinary and Propers for the celebration of Candlemass, a refreshing change despite the awkward r English translation of the Collects and Eucharistic Prayers. I walked to the Cathedral for the eleven o'clock Solemn Eucharist, in which the girls choir sang the English setting written by Herbert Howells, in place of the boy choristers. It was beautiful and uplifting, a lovely conclusion to the forty days of Christmaside.

Precentor Ian Yemm preached a fine sermon covering all St Luke's stories about the infancy and youth of the Christchild. He also devised a candle processional set of versicles and responses for celebrant and congregation, to end the service after a procession to the font. Dean Jason presided, and I had a chance to welcome him to Llandaff afterwards. It's the first time I've been to a Cathedral service since he was inducted. I was surprised when he said that he attended my licensing and induction at St John's in 2002!

Straight back home for lunch, a snooze and then a walk in Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields afterwards. On a corner of Pontcanna Fields where I saw a youth football match was played yesterday, I caught sight of a pile of rubbish gathered into one spot fifty yards from the nearest bin. Fifteen plastic bottles, four energy drink cans and two coffee cups, plus a couple of strays on the other side of the pitch that I also collected, binning them all; some on my way down to Blackweir Bridge, others on my way back in a different bin. At the site of a second match played yesterday, no rubbish had been left. It speaks volumes about the difference in quality of team supervision and leadership between the two matches.

I spent the rest of the day watching the remaining episodes of the current series of 'Wisting', before and after supper. I think I've watched all 26 episodes over the past five years. A good police procedural drama with a layer of family stories with grown up children. The protagonist is widower in his late fifties, solitary, wedded to his work, but not a lonely man. A thoughtful sympathetic character. As with other Norwegian telly dramas I've watched, the dialogue in context flows naturally between Norwegian and English. It's the same with other series produced for the European market over the past decade, and I'm pleased that Welsh and Gaelic dramas showcasing minority languages have featured in this cultural  development.

Plygain revival

Another bright cold day, with the temperature just above freezing. Interesting that I didn't need an extra blanket in the night to keep warm, an indication that the humidity level is low. I went to the Eucharist in the Cathedral at eleven. The rugby pitches on Llandaff Fields were all busy with junior matches, if not training sessions, attracting more youngsters and parents than Sunday School. The worship of sporting success and prowess overtook churchgoing as a major Sunday activity decades ago. Most of the hundred and forty worshippers in church were over fifty. 

The readings for Epiphany Sunday including the Three Kings were used, rather than the ones for the Baptism of Christ set in the Church in Wales Lectionary for the first Sunday after Epiphany. I think that it was an appropriate choice when the Feast of the Epiphany was only yesterday. The Baptism of Christ is also a key Epiphany story, but it's widely done in the Catholic and other churches nowadays, to transfer Three Kings day to the nearest Sunday, then have the Baptism of Christ the following week. Why the Church in Wales should ignore this trend is a mystery to me. 

Canon theologian Ryan Green celebrated and preached with Archdeacon Mike Komor assisting him. It's Mike's farewell service at Choral Evensong this afternoon. Sitting as I usually do near the front of the nave he spotted me and sought me out at the Peace to exchange greetings, asking me if retirement could be rated as one of the best jobs in the world. All I could think to say was yes, as it gives you freedom to choose what you say 'yes' or 'no' to. Not so easy when then decline in congregation numbers and ministers haunts you with the thought of the still faithful remnant who are 'like sheep without a shepherd'.

I was conscious throughout the service of continuous background noise emitting from a large industrial hot air blower lodged in an doorway on the north side. I guess the regular heating system must be broken. At the end of the service it was switched off, and the temperature indoors plummeted which I listened to a Bach organ prelude being played. Not even a brisk walk back through the park on the way home could warm me up. There can't be many churches in use that aren't expensive to heat. Because their volume and inadequate insulation their carbon footprint is bound to be high, churchgoers are challenged on both counts to think hard about what a sustainable future looks like.

I was home in time for lunch at one. Clare went off to Aberdare with her Plygain group for a special Welsh language service at St Fagan's church. I went for a walk in the park, testing a long winter fleece lined long coat I bought some months ago against the 3C chill. It was heavier than I realised, and not quite as effective as my ancient padded ski jacket. It's time I tried it out in on a really rainy day. There are more patches of snowdrops emerging on the side of the road through Pontcanna Fields, and a clump of three daffodil buds in an area where there are a dozen or so daffodil shoots about six inches high. It's the same as I observed last year. a few select plants - snowdrop, crocus daffodil - emerging in advance of all the others, a week or more ahead. I wonder what the reason is for this?

I had a long catch-up phone chat with Martin, and a shorter one with my sister, then after supper with nothing better to do I watched three more episodes of 'Bones'. Clare returned from Aberdare, reporting that the Plygain service had attracted about 200 people. An impressive turnout for a revived traditional winter evening event. It's going to be a frosty night tonight.

Justin in Jerusalem

After nearly a week of clouds and rain, it was a pleasant surprise to wake up to blue skies and sunshine. No news of further aid convoys being allowed into Gaza after yesterday's opening of the Rafah crossing. Meanwhile Israeli bombardment of Gaza continues, in preparation for the ground assault. The compound of the Greek Orthodox church of St Porphyrus  in Gaza city was hit on Thursday last killing 18 people. It's said to be the oldest church in Gaza dating from as early as 425AD.

The Radio 4 Sunday programme, interviewed the Anglican Archbishop of Jerusalem and the Archbishop of Canterbury on a visit there. They made a plea to the Israeli military to consider urgently the plight of all those exposed to great danger, who have lost their homes and are running out of food and water. They also made an urgent plea for initiatives of reconciliation and peace making to begin. Recently a similar appeal was made by the heads of all Christian churches in Jerusalem, gathered together under the media spotlight. I've not seen this reported until now. It's violent men on both sides with the power of life and death over others who hog the attention of newsmakers and media influencers.

Clare and I attended the St Catherine's Parish Eucharist . There were three dozen adults and eight children in the congregation, and Fr Rhys presided. Before lunch, I worked on next week's Sway and the relevant liturgical reading files for distribution. I made an effort to get ahead as tomorrow when I normally do this, we plan to visit Owain and inspect the work he's done on his new apartment. Then I had a short siesta and went for a walk around Thompson's Park until tea time. 

At short notice this week, Christian Aid Wales organised a vigil service to pray for Israel and Palestine in Llandaff Cathedral at six this evening, so we walked there to join fifty others who responded to the call for prayer together. The bilingual service lasted just half an hour and involved eight people reading quotations from suffering people on both sides. There were several others there from St Catherine's and clergy friends as well, making the effort after a day's work. 

We got home in time for 'The Archers', and after supper watched 'Antiques Roadshow', and the first of a series of three episodes of a documentary about the trial of Adolf Eichmann, key Nazi organiser of the Holocaust in 1961. Eichmann was convicted on the basis of evidence from transcripts published in Life magazine of recorded conversations between himself and Nazi sympathisers. The tapes themselves were unavailable having been hidden after the event. 

It was some years before they found their way into German government archives, and for political reasons it was only in 2020 that the surviving 15 hours worth of 70 hours of taped conversations were released to an Israeli documentary team. I recall hearing of this trial when I was a sixth former, and reading about it. The Holocaust, I already knew about, as I'd been told about it by my mother, and seen footage of it in documentaries about the war on telly.

Then in the ten o'clock news, a report from the UN that a further 14 aid trucks have crossed into Gaza during the day. Sufficient diplomatic pressure on Israel seems to have secured the passage of more trucks in the aid convoy in the days to come. We'll see. 

Finally the Anglican identity of the bombed Al-Ahli hospital has been given fair coverage on prime time BBC news, thanks to the visit of Archbishop Justin Welby to his episcopal counterpart in Jerusalem. He gave a superb interview in St George's Cathedral about the need for reconciliation, including the following observation: "How you fight determines whether peace and reconciliation is possible in the long run" Let's hope that this wise counsel has its impact on leaders on both sides who have a choice to think about their plans of action before this conflcit spirals out of control into an widespread international war.

Musical day off

Another cloudy humid day, but fortunately not too hot. It was my first Sunday without a service to take this year. After a leisurely breakfast I prepared Sunday lunch, steamed veg and salmon as usual, ready for Clare to switch on in time for my return from church. She wasn't feeling too well, so decided to stay in bed and rest, rather than go to church. She has to go to Bristol for a study session this afternoon and wanted to be fresh enough to make the most of it.

I walked to Llandaff Cathedral, amid a host of dog walkers setting out to take their pets for exercise. If I'd got up earlier, I might have seen the jogging hosts of the Parkrun group out and about as well. Above and beyond the sound of excited barking dogs, the sound of bells ringing for the eleven o'clock Sung Eucharist. 

In church, a congregation of about eighty, plus forty singers and clergy and choir. Today's the Feast of St Barnabas, so the service was a celebration of his life and witness, with a sublime Mass setting and anthem by Stanford and well chosen hymns to sing. Canon Bruce Kinsey the Chaplain of Balliol College Oxford preached an excellent sermon drawing upon his familiarity with the Acts of the Apostles, where Barnabas features as a key figure in the mission of the very early Church. The reading of scripture was done well, and thoughtful intercessions offered by a senior lay member of the congregation. All in all a refreshing and uplifting experience of worship.

I greeted Dean Richard at the door afterwards and said "It doesn't get any better than that you know." He grinned and said "Yes I agree. I can't believe how fortunate I am to be here and part of this all the time." He's six months into the job. He couldn't escape knowing what an unhappy place it was, before and after covid, when he accepted the job. I hope he's treated better than his two predecessors were, and gets on with Bishop Mary. He told me there had been three hundred at the earlier Parish Eucharist, a hundred and fifty adults and a hundred and fifty children. It's good to hear attendance at that service is back to normal again catering for families with children in the Cathedral School, Llandaff Primary School and the Bishop of Llandaff High School.

Lunch was ready as anticipated when I arrived home from church. Once Clare's lift arrived to take her to Bristol, I went for a walk in the park. I was delighted to see, for the second Sunday afternoon in a row, a family picnic gathering of around sixty Muslims on the north Pontcanna Field - a group of thirty women and children sitting and chatting, while another group of men were standing around barbecue grills cooking lunch. On the south field, by way of contrast, two cricket teams with their tent pavilions, taking tea at the customary hour. It's lovely to see the parks so often well used. The only problem is takeaway food and drink packaging overwhelming the bins or dumped randomly, and horrible instant barbecue trays bought from supermarkets ruining the grass. Large social groups arrive to barbecue equipped with proper cooking equipment and set a good example, leaving the place tidy after their party.

Clare returned from Bristol in time for supper and 'The Archers'. Then we watched the first round of the fortieth 'BBC Cardiff Singer of the World' competition, broadcasted from St David's Hall. Four remarkable young singers performing with the Welsh National Opera orchestra. A feast of operatic arias. All four were accomplished and faultless, but one stood out, South African soprano Nombulelo Yende. Her elder sister Pretty is already a world class operatic soprano, singing at the King's coronation a month ago. An amazing musical family! She sets a very high standard to attain for the twelve singers yet to perform.

So good to have a day to relax and do nothing but enjoy listening.

Cathedral broadcast tech'

Last night I set the alarm for seven, as I needed to be up and running extra early to get to St Catherine's to take the once a month eight o'clock Communion service. Normally there are five or six present but today there were only four of us. I went home for breakfast, then returned for the ten thirty service. As I was approaching the church Archbishop Rowan caught me up. He'd walked from St John's only to find that he had mistaken the start time and the Eucharist there was half over. He was rota'd to preach while Fr Rhys celebrated. 

Unfortunately the layout of the bi-monthly rota sheet isn't a model of clarity. I always need to double check before entering assignments into my diary, as I too have got confused and nearly missed services in times past. As I'd already presided at eight o'clock, I asked if he'd like to preside instead of me, then I would just read the Gospel and preach. I enjoyed ministering together with him, it was relaxing and less demanding than being responsible for everything. It's not so often clergy are in a position to do things together nowadays as the demand for services taken is greater than the clergy supply.

Home for lunch afterwards, and a snooze in the chair before walking up to Llandaff Cathedral for Choral Evensong. The singing was sublimely beautiful, and there was in the congregation a visiting group of clerics and parishioners from three different ministry areas of Margam Archdeaconry. I know few people in the west of the diocese, so didn't recognise anyone to chat with at the end apart from Fr Mark, now Vice Dean of the Cathedral, also known as the Precentor, our former Rector in Canton. We haven't seen each other since late last year. 

He told me proudly that his son, who one of the Cathedral's vergers, was responsible for the new CCTV system which is used to relay services on the internet and on an array of large video screens in the nave. All the cameras are remotely controlled from a mixing console to display who is praying or preaching, or even playing the organ at any time, a cut above the average CCTV security system. Because the video feed reaches the screens via the internet there's a tiny gap between the live sound you hear and the image you see, so lip-sync is a permanent problem that cannot be overcome with this system, but it's only noticeable if you look at a screen carefully. I'd prefer not to have the screens at all. It's hard to find a place to sit where none of them can be seen.

On my return, I put together a slide-show to go with the audio I recorded for Ascension Day, which is this Thursday, and uploaded it to YouTube after supper. Then I caught up on Friday's episode of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' and the last two episodes of 'All the sins', in which a rather complex story over eighteen episodes was more or less happily resolved in the last half hour, with a video cum still slideshow set against a homily and a reading of 1 Corinthians 13, as the whole storyline involved the Finnish Laestadian Lutheran sect, dark secrets of sinning and being sinned against. It was rather confusing, as there were sub plots involving so many protagonists that it was hard to recall who was who. Ah well, at least there won't be a fourth series as no room was left for another. I hope.

Choral Sunday

Before getting up this morning I listened to BBC's Sunday Worship programme which came from Lviv in Ukraine, where Orthodox Christmas is being celebrated, according to the Old Julian Calendar, as is still the custom in Slavic Orthodoxy. Greek, Romanian and Bulgarian Orthodox use the contemporary calendar and make something special of the 7th January as the Feast of Christ's Baptism. Interestingly Bulgarian Orthodox, although culturally Slav follow the Western, rather than the Eastern Church calendar. It was lovely to hear Ukrainian carols and hymns being sung, with some beautiful prayers and reflection on the importance of celebrating Christ's birth despite the war.

After breakfast I drove to St Edward's to celebrate the Eucharist, expecting to observe the Feast of Christ's Baptism, so that was the focus of my sermon. After the service started I discovered that the service sheet of the day had the readings for Friday's Feast of the Epiphany. Too late to change it, so I had to ad lib the first part of my sermon and excuse myself for the confusion. Thankfully, it was well received in any case. And the Eucharist itself was very nicely sung by the choir of eight.

It seems the Church in Wales calendar allows for option of moving the Feast of Epiphany to the nearest Sunday as commonly happens with Ascension and All Saints these days. Clare said that Epiphany was observed in St Catherine's as well. I'm not sure there was a Mass in the parish on Friday Epiphany Day. Step by step we're losing the habit of putting on weekday festive celebrations. Encouraging the faithful to make the effort to turn out for them is an effort fewer want to invest in. 

I got back for lunch at one. Afterwards, Clare was getting ready to welcome her study group, so I walked to the Cathedral for three thirty Evensong. A notice board outside stated that there'd be a Sung Eucharist at four. I went inside and listen to the choir rehearse, intending to leave before the service started, as I'd been to the Eucharist of the day already. Then Father Mark arrived and came over to greet me. He reassured me that it was going to be Evensong after all, so I stayed for the service and so glad that I did. Two beautifully sung Anglican services in one day. It's a rarity these days.

After supper, two programmes worth watching - a new episode of 'Call the Midwife' and of 'Happy Valley' back to back. Then, I spent an hour working on the Lent study series which I'm writing on the Psalms of Lament to use at St Andrews Los Boliches before turning in for the night. It would be good if I can present the scheme proprly at tomorrow Zoom meeting.

Soaked through

I posted my prayer video link to WhatsApp later than usual as I slept until quarter past eight. Sara was up before the rest of, making herself a mug of very strong coffee. She's a very early riser at home. I didn't go to St John's for the Eucharist, but was surprised and delighted to learn later from WhatsApp that the Thursday morning 'Warm Church' initiative went from no visitors last week to around forty today, many of them mothers with children. This may be a result of something spread on local social media I guess. I do hope the interest and interest continues and that something similar happens in St Catherine's and St Luke's.

Mid morning, we walked to the Cathedral across Llandaff Fields and got caught in an unexpected heavy downpour, which soaked my top coat right through. It stopped a few minutes after we sheltered under a tree which still had leaves, and we continued, feeling rather damp. I showed them around the Cathedral and told them something of its history and use today, then we returned for lunch, most of which I had prepared before we went out, and didn't take long to bring to the table.

It rained again on and off for the rest of the afternoon, and our guests were tired, and didn't want to get wet again, so we didn't go out again as intended to visit the Bay. We sat around and talked most of the time. although I did make a trip out when the rain stopped to buy a few things we were running out of. After supper Sara and Ebba went to bed just after eight, which is nine according to their body clocks. I watched the last two episodes of 'Wisting' on iPlayer, as it's unlikely anyone will be interested in watching this on Saturday except me. Then, after hearing news of the latest rise in bank interest rates, bad for borrowers but good for savers, it was time for me to turn in.

Royal flying visit

After breakfast this morning I walked over to Pontcanna Fields to await the King's arrival. I was there just after ten, and had more than an hour to wait. The tree lined avenue was cordoned off and lined with police officers. Down the path to Blackweir Bridge a line of VIP vehicles was parked and dozens of officials and security personnel were gathered, along with photographers. Getting a clear view of the King's helicopter landing spot wasn't easy, as nobody was allowed on the side of the avenue next to the field. The view from behind the banking that carries the road was restricted, so I had to use the full extent of my Olympus long lens to get any worthwhile photos, and crop them on editing.

It was eleven twenty when the King's helicopter arrived. I was surprised to see that it wasn't a military but rather a civilian one in maroon livery. As the King was at Highgrove House in Gloucestershire overnight,  the flight most probably started there, about half an hour away from Pontcanna Fields. Fairly quickly, the royal party and their minders drove away from the landing field up the avenue. Three police motorcyclists went first, with a single police motorcyclist in front of the usual regal Rolls Royce, with the royal standard pennant on top. 

On a whim, I decided to use my Sony HX90 in burst mode to capture a sequence of pictures of the passing royal car, but this was a complete failure. It takes great photos very quickly, but takes several seconds to save them to the camera's SD card. I got the motorcyclists, and the approach of the royal car, but as it went past me I was still waiting for the previous burst of photos to be saved. So disappointing!

I went home then, in time to watch the service from Llandaff Cathedral. It was lovely to see the faces of several people I know taking part. Throughout, it was thoroughly bilingual, hymns, readings, prayers, wth a special anthem written for the occasion, accompanied by the past and present Royal Harpist. The BBC delivered English subtitles - and they were readable for a change. Archbishop Andy spoke well. Five people took part in prayers of intercession, led by Bishop June, including Muslim and Jewish as well as ecumenical representatives. It was a splendid affirmation of Wales' diversity and bilingualism.

We watched the ceremonies that followed in the Senedd while eating lunch. It was nice to see Barry our former Archbishop commenting on the service in the studio afterwards. Clare was inspired to take off to the Castle to see the King arrive. She caught a bus, but was five minutes too late getting there. I followed on foot. We stood among the crowds opposite the Castle and waited for an hour and a half for the royal car to depart, through an inter-service military guard of honour outside the gate, with scores of police officers on the street, and other officials in their dark suits and black ties, standing around doing goodness knows what. After a long wait in a chill wind, it was over in a couple of minutes. 

We went to Barker's Coffee House in Castle Arcade for a warm-up drink, and a sit down. Clare then went to the crystal jewellery shop next door, and spotted a possible birthday present, which I purchased after she'd set out to walk home. I went to bank a cheque, caught a bus to Canton and walked the rest of the way home, then edited and uploaded a second batch of photos of this exceptional day. No good photos of the King, but a fair number of pictures of the setting of his arrival and departure from the edge of the action, as ever in my case. You can see them here

After supper, I started writing a Sunday sermon and got stuck half way. I needed further study on the text I'm expounding, but didn't feel like it, so I watched a couple of episodes of 'The Wagner Method' on my laptop instead.

Uninvited voices

I slept for nearly nine hours and got up a lot later than usual for a Sunday. It's quite a while since I did this. The accumulated tiredness of the past couple of months of coping in a very different environment is now being compensated for, I think. It was lovely to return to St German's and celebrate Mass among friends again, twenty seven of us in church altogether. 

After the service over coffee, plans were being made for the coming Christmas Fayre. The Ministry Area is short of a priest now that NSM Ruth has been moved across the city. That's very tough for Stewart, the Ministry Area Leader to have to arrange cover for. Glad I'm still able to help him.

When I was getting in the car to drive home, my Blackberry emitted a short jingle, then a sultry female voice saying "I'm here." It happened again five minutes later when I was driving in traffic. It happened for the first time yesterday when we were out at Porthkerry. When I examined my phone on each occasion nothing was showing to indicate the origin of the disembodied voice. Hacked or not? Most un-nerving. 

After a delicious lunch of salmon with corn on the cob, plus Porthkerry blackberries and apple crumble for pudding, I thought I'd better investigate. Nothing showed up in the instant message or SMS apps, nor in WhatsApp, Instagram or Gmail. My phone is linked to the wristband step tracker I wear through a Bluetooth channel, could this be the source of the intrusion? Indeed it was. The Bluetooth settings had a single item in it - the link made two weeks ago when I used the chaplaincy's Bose loudspeaker to link to the funeral music playlist I'd prepared for the service I took. That speaker is two thousand miles away from here, but I think this must have established an open 'listening' channel able to sense any Bluetooth speaker that comes within range. 

Indeed, St German's also has a Bluetooth speaker. I recall deleting its registration from my phone's  menu in Spain, when I was setting up the Bose speaker to use there. Many people have Bose Bluetooth devices in their cars and homes. Come within range of any of them and you get the disembodied voice inviting you to pair up, whether or not you need or want to - unless you delete the registration of the device in your Bluetooth settings.

I find this very disturbing. Firstly the disembodied voice can be distracting just at the wrong moment if you're driving or working on something critical. Secondly, this open channel could be used by a hacker with know-how to access your phone without you knowing or agreeing and dump nasty stuff on your phone, or extract personal data from it. An old fashioned cable connection is far more secure!

Clare went out to meet with members of her meditation group for coffee. I walked to Llandaff Cathedral in time for Evensong advertised on its website at 3.30pm, but found out it was at four instead. I enjoyed half an hour's meditative quiet before the service, which was said with a few hymns this week. Canon Jan va de Leley officiated and we chatted briefly afterwards. I was delighted to discover that she'd been head of Religious Studies at Aiglon College in Switzerland, a place where I took services on locum duty in Montreux.

After supper, I binge watched a French mystery thriller series called 'The Chalet', about revenge in a sub-Alpine village. It contained a lot of flashback scenes, presented without distinction between past and present, and given that the cast of characters was quite big, figuring out older and younger selves made it complex to work out who is/was who. Nice scenery however. Then, an episode of 'The Capture', fast paced, and confusing, but deliberately so, as the storyline is about real time video faking, false flag operations and cyber warfare, in which the characters in the drama are being deceived and confused by the manipulation of all their communications channels, audio and video. This was so powerfully and convincingly done I felt completely caught up in it. A disturbing view of tomorrow, especially in the light of uninvited voices coming from my phone.

Open air concert season

Another lovely day of spring sunshine started with an early pancake breakfast, then a lie-in before walking to Llandaff and visiting the Cathedral for the first time in ages. All is back to normal now and there's a trickle of visitors. Gerwyn the Dean announced his resignation last week, after being on sick leave and being in dispute with the Bishop for the past two years. I wonder if he will take on a new job in ministry, or give up on the church altogether? I wonder too who will replace him? The Cathedral has been an unhappy place of late. Whoever takes his place is going to have a difficult time reconciling and rebuilding the community. 

Clare fancied a takeaway for lunch and left me to go and hunt for an Indian meal, but I couldn't find an Indian takeaway open for business in Canton. Our usual fish 'n chip shop was also closed, but eventually I found one that was open and took home freshly cooked chips and two gigantic pieces of cod. We sat out in our sun-filled garden to eat them, and drank a palatable Chilean Pinot Noir to go with the meal, just right,  not too heavy. It was so pleasantly warm that I sat outside and read for an hour while Clare had a siesta, taking advantage of the bright light to read a couple of chapters from 'Invierno en Madrid'. So much better for the eyes than artificial light.

Later, we went for another walk, around Thompson's Park this time. It was unusually quiet. I wondered if young families had gone to the beach. Then I remembered that there's a big Ed Sheeran concert on at the Principality Stadium in town. There's an American rock band playing in the SWALEC stadium too, at the same hour. I noticed that a canopied stage had been erected on the cricket pitch when I was passing by a few days ago. Well, the weather is certainly kind for hosting big open air events at the moment.

After supper I watched Rick Stein's 'Long Weekend' programme, this time set in Thessaloniki. It was a lovely reminder of the rich variety of cooking in a region influenced by centuries of Ottoman rule. We went there in the nineties, travelling by ship from Tinos, where we'd spent a few days. We only stopped a day and a couple of nights, then took the slow train journey down to Athens - a lovely experience. I'm not sure we'd have the stamina to do that kind of trip nowadays, even though the travel conditions are likely to be somewhat improved. There are high speed trains nowadays and the fastest only takes four hours for the 500km journey non stop. That's half the time it took thirty years ago. 

Then another episode of 'Beck' about a cop with extreme views of how to respond to social disorder in a changing world, and resentment towards his superiors which turns murderous. We've had corrupt cops before in this series, but this episode explored how someone with a personality disorder could somehow continue working as a policeman without this being noticed. This is a Swedish crimmie, but reflects the same concern arising in British policing in which racist and sexist behaviour persist despite efforts made to root them out.

Beanfeast

A long night's sleep, made extra comfortable by not needing any kind of dressing for the first time in three years, a real sign of healing progress to rejoice in. After our usual pancake breakfast, Clare harvested three quarters of a kilo of French beans, and set about preparing them for freezing to eat when we return from our trip to Felixstowe. The plants have given us fresh beans daily for the past couple of weeks, a summer pleasure. I cooked a lentil dish for lunch, then walked up to Llandaff Weir and back. 

I passed through the huge cemetery at the south side of the Cathedral, much of it now overgrown with hidden paths and gravestones, some modest others monumental, peeping out of dense undergrowth. In a couple of secluded places beneath trees, groups of teenagers hung out and chatted, not up to mischief, just being themselves, socialising, as they also do in similar overgrown places at the edge of Llandaff Fields.

When I got back, I started packing for our trip to Felixstowe, finished and printed tomorrow's sermon, then watched an Italian crimme on BBC Four called 'Piranhas'. It was set in the old town part of Naples portraying a gang of feral fifteen year olds getting involved in local protection rackets, adolescent kids with all the desires and fantasies of their age, groomed for low level crime by older Mafiosi. The acting is superb and the filming brilliant. It's based on real life incidents involving the firearms by youngsters in the city. The one appearance by police throughout the story is in making arrests of mafia dons at a wedding. They are notably absent from street scenes in which poor traders are being abused and extorted, or drugs are openly sold to students outside the University. It made me think about 'county lines' drug trafficking in Britain, which exploits kids of a similar age.

Socially distanced but superb singing

After breakfast, I went on my own to St Catherine's while Owain and Clare went for a walk in the park to enjoy the bright warm sunny morning instead. There were thirty of us at the Eucharist. On my way home I met Emma on her way to the Co-op and we chatted for a short while before she went hunting the shelves for something for lunch with an unexpected guest. She's really enjoying her interim ministry secondment to Fairwater, finding herself in an unusual situation there. 

With covid restrictions the church can only take 27 worshippers at a time, but the regular congregation is much more than that, so worshippers can only book to go to church fortnightly, and this involves a lot of extra organisation for the churchwardens. There's a monthly children's Eucharist on a Saturday, but numbers call for two separate celebrations, one every two weeks. Will parishioners easily get back into a weekly worship habit when this crisis is over I wonder?

After lunch in the garden, I walked up to Llandaff Weir. On the way there I went through the Cathedral Churchyard and heard singing within. The north east side entrance door was wide open so I put a mask on and popped my head in. The choir had just reached the Evensong Lord's Prayer and Responses. They were singing a familiar setting with gusto and it really moved me. After the Anthem, I walked around to the West door to watch the end of the service, then went in a chatted with Fr Mark, whom I haven't seen since last summer. Regular Cathedral Evensong, Sunday evenings and a weekday or two, are happening once more. It's such a blessing, and triumphant return to the Old Normal, albeit with a reduced socially distanced choir. It seems the Dean is still off work, so he and Canon Jan, our Area Dean, are carrying all the Cathedral services between them,  a heavy responsibility one way and another. 

This evening, the first round of the biennial 'Cardiff Singer of the World' on telly, a superb hour and a half of singing by the first four semi-finalists. It's taking place in St David's Hall again with a smaller orchestra and without an audience, but that didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the participants. Tonight's semi-final winner was mezzo soprano, Natalia Kutateladze from Georgia. The other singers were from Mongolia, Venezuela and China, all remarkable voices. 

And then, the second episode of disturbingly realistic prison drama 'Time'. Difficult watching. I wonder if this honest portrayal of life behind bars will spark new debate into British prison conditions.

Parish Music Milestone

After another good night's sleep, I woke up just after the Sunday Worship programme started on Radio Four, reflecting on the past year of life suffering and death in lock-down. We had a reflection on a Gospel story from the Archbishop of York, plus a sermon from the Dean of Winchester, using a different biblical text. Both were insightful, thankfully. A lovely English choral version of the Lord's Prayer was used, disconnected from the prayers of intercession, as if it was just a nice piece of music, and I'm not sure that we didn't have two versions of the same modern hymn, or at least two modern hymns that were rather too similar to each other. It felt like a cobbled together Ministry of the Word whose structure was something of a mystery to me. 

In contrast following this, we were treated to a ten minute 'Point of View' by poet Michael Morpurgo, the story of whose suffering and recovery from coronavirus has been widely reported, and he himself has written about the experience. This morning it wasn't what he was reflecting on. He spoke of how much he misses personal contact with his audience as a writer, through book signings, Q&A interviews at book festivals, reading his stories in classes of school children. All the things which make his life as a writer meaningful, in other words. 

Then he went on to speak about what he'd gained, learning to do the same things using Zoom and how, much to his surprise and delight, he found he was reading on-line not to audiences of ninety but ninety thousand all around the world. It's not about fame or recognition, but his joy, sharing something valued he has made. Something similar has been observed by churches offering on-line services over the past year, finding that audiences extend well beyond the usual circle of parishioner. And not only for worship, but also for on-line discussion groups as well. Will this last as part of the new normal, I wonder? 

Another sunny morning to walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist. There were about thirty of us. Next Sunday, St Luke's will reopen for worship. Few people from there have joined us in St Catherine's that I'm aware of. Did they go to other churches that were open or watch on-line? No everybody's needs are the same.  

After lunch I walked up to the Cathedral. The ranks of chairs in the nave had all been pushed back to clear a space in the front where half a dozen chairs were placed in a big socially distanced semi-circle, as if for a performance of some kind. I was surprised to see the high altar stripped bare, and a plain wooden cross placed on a pedestal in the choir. The place looked as you might expect it to look of Good Friday. I wondered if this was an innovative modification to the Passiontide liturgical environment in the light of the pandemic or the first anniversary of UK lock-down and asked one of the duty stewards. It was indeed in anticipation of Good Friday, as the Passion Liturgy of the day is going to be prerecorded later in the afternoon for streaming on the day itself. All will revert to normal tomorrow. 

I rather like the stripped down vista of choir and sanctuary. The blend of shapes and forms due to different architectural styles has a special quality unadorned. Monastic churches nowadays have that kind of simplicity about them, and are furnished only as necessary for acts of worship. I wish we could do the same in parish churches, but recognise this would cause a lot of extra routine work for parish sacristans. Shifting it all out of sight for the Holy Triduum and doing the annual spring-clean is enough of an exercise as it is.

We returned to St Catherine's this evening for a special Passiontide service with five scripture readings and choral items from the choir, singing socially distanced from the choir stalls for the first time in a year since lockdown UK began. I took a camera with me and video'd the service, handheld, which means it's a bit shaky in parts. The audio could be better, but I wasn't in the most effective position for this, but it does record a small but significant moment in the history of the pandemic and the Parish. I was able to edit the two video files taken that cover the service using the old Windows Movie Maker, which I prefer to the Windows 10 video editing app, perhaps because I can more readily remember how to. It uploaded to YouTube while I watched the first episode of 'Line of Duty' series six, so I could send a link to Fr Benedict and to Choirmaster Colin for them to circulate. Good to get the job out of the way quickly. On Tuesday I'll be making a video at St John's with Mark and Fran about her icon of the resurrection appearance to Mary Magdalene. It'll certainly be easier there to get the sound right! 

Quinquagesima Valentine

The Anglican church calendar for the Sunday before Lent or Quinquagesima Sunday makes no mention of it being Saint Valentine's Day today. The old Roman calendar remembers a martyr of the early Christian era whose feast coincides with a pagan celebration of romantic love and desire, and that's what persists in contemporary social custom, thanks to commercial marketing as much as anything else. The Revised Common Lectionary theme is about Christ's Transfiguration. The old Church in Wales 1984 Prayer Book readings which I used when reading through the day's Eucharist focus on Jesus foretelling his passion, and is accompanied by 1 Corinthians 13, extolling self-giving sacrificial love rather than romance. This suits me better - love that endures in hope and trust, despite the odds. What the world needs right now. 

I woke up to the news that the US Senate voted not to impeach Trump, which putting on record personal and video testimony of the frightful events of January 6th and all that led up to it. Trump is already out of his self-imposed silence declaring he will run for president again. President Biden's administration is going to need all that the power of that love which endures in hope and trust over the next three years. Will the truth prevail? Will lies and duplicity in public life be defeated? We can only pray that good-will not ill-will prevails.

I cooked lunch again today and then walked up to Llandaff Cathedral, something I haven't done since the current lock-down started. I was delighted to find that it was open for private prayer, so I donned a mask went in and spent ten minutes savouring the atmosphere and praying. It's a place with memories going back sixty years for me. When I got back, I listened to Evensong from Clare College Cambridge on the BBC Sounds app. It's broadcast at three o'clock, but I'm never ready to listen to it at that time, so catch-up is much appreciated.

I found another French crimmie to watch on Walter Presents, called 'The Red Shadows'. It was set on the Cote d'Azure to the west of Marseilles, just like the last series I watched. The story-line is also a mix of family drama and flic movie, and even features some of the same actors, thought not in the same roles, thankfully. An audience winning formula or what? I wonder. Later on, another episode of 'Finding Alice', which I'm watching more out of curiosity about its handling of bereavement, rather than eager interest. Its pace now makes it border on the dull.

 

On-line Advent

We've seen a heartening increase in the number of parents with children at St Catherine's recently but this morning there were fewer, as there's a Christingle service at St John's this afternoon, booked to the full capacity allowed of eighty people. Now that's encouraging to know in these tough times! Mother Frances is on leave for the rest of this week, and has been busy attending to necessary details to cover in her absence - tiring in itself. She sent me a briefing email on safety protocols for church based funeral services, as I have my first one in St John's twelve days hence. 

Funerals directors must provide a list of mourners and contact numbers in their family groups who'll be attending, so that the verger can check them in on their arrival. I don't know if the same applies at crem funerals governed as they are by public health regulations. A list may need to be provided, but I've never seen a attendant checking mourners into the crem chapel. Some enter beforehand, others follow behind the coffin. 

Life is more complex when it comes to church services, as the dioceses are eager to impose strict safety conditions to minimise  contagion spread.  It's true that there are instances of funerals, weddings and other church services being 'superspreader' events before contagion dynamics were properly understood, and since then by groups wilfully, if not piously putting God to the test by denying the problem and ignoring the dangers, but these are the exception rather than the norm. 

Anglican traditional culture has long emphasised the importance of everything being done 'decently and in good order', despite the risk of seeming conventional and dull. Being a safe and stable foundation for communities of faith, innovating and adapting carefully, perhaps too slowly for the impulsive natured believer, has seen us weather centuries of harsh and hostile times of expansion and decline.

I'm surprised it's taken so long for church leaders to complain publicly about the government closure of churches during lock-down. It's in the interests of justice to demand evidence that stricter church service management regimes add to local contagion statistics, especially when churches actively support Track and Trace mechanisms properly with a steward signing worshippers into services. A one size fits all closure approach does nothing to help identify and sanction churches that don't comply. It is of course impossible to do anything to control the behaviour of worshippers once they have left church grounds where they are free to obey or break the rules and risk infection any way they want to, but it is vital that Parish congregations continue to act in an exemplary manner, for the common good.

Talking of church regulations, when I walked to the Cathedral straight after lunch today, I saw a notice displayed on the board outside about a petition for a Faculty (the church recognised equivalent to civil planning permission) to install cameras at four points in the Cathedral whose purpose will be to record or live stream worship services. Bravo, at last! This would have been beneficial earlier in the century, but video technology is so much more sophisticated, affordable and acceptable now that the pandemic forced so many more people throughout the world to rely on new technologies to communicate, socially, domestically, scientifically and economically. 

I remember meeting Fr Mark in the Cathedral one Sunday afternoon, and him talking about learning to record a Sunday Eucharist for on-line consumption during lock-down. What this revealed was the enthusiastic reception for the Cathedral's offering by a range of people, duty bound or housebound and unable to attend, plus extending the ability of ministry to reach out to a new audience ordinarily out of range. I hope we'll see this kind of initiative taken up at Parish level, the more affordable it becomes.

I got back from my walk early enough to listen to Evensong on Radio 3, except that it was an Advent procession of Carols  live from St John's College Cambridge, beautifully sung. In fact, as I was a couple of minutes late, I found the programme on BBC iPlayer on my Blackberry, rolled it back to the start, and listened with the phone plugged in to the dining room hi-fi. A lovely treat.

After supper, I accidentally came across a surprise music programme on Sky Arts, all about a London concert in 1985 by Rockabilly legend Carl Perkins and his band. He wrote and performed several songs which were huge hits for Elvis Presley, including 'Blue Suede Shoes'. The event seems to have been set up by South Walian rocker and music entrepreneur Dave Edmunds, brother of Ricky Dee who deejayed the parish discos at St Andrew's Penyrheol in the late sixties early seventies. Dave was there performing on stage as a guest star along with Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton and George Harrison. An amazing hour of music which took me back to my early teens and got me on my feet trying to sing along to lyrics half remembered, to fantastic live versions of songs unlike those on the '78 or '45 recordings of my youth. 

An unusual way to begin Advent indeed!

Another waiting day

Thankfully, feeling better again today, making progress in overcoming this cold. As for the rest, we'll see in due course. The condition of the wound isn't improving. Too much sitting around has never done me any good. 

Saturday pancakes for breakfast again! Otherwise, another waiting day like yesterday, with a walk up to Llandaff Weir and the Cathedral on a bright and sunny afternoon. I didn't go into the Cathedral to pray, this time, but prayed outside the West door, as nobody was coming and going at that moment. I've kept myself at a good distance from people when out of the house this week, as I usually do anyway these days. Until my cold is over I  won't enter enclosed spaces.

Although Cardiff's new lockdown restrictions don't start until this evening, Media Wales reported that the city centre was considerably quieter yesterday evening than the week before. Pubs and clubs have to close earlier already, but any reduction in mass movement is going to make a difference. I wonder how the local student halls of residence are faring with contagion risk managment? In some other University cities there have been more outbreaks in halls. Only to be expected.  

Tomorrow we'll worship on-line. 'It is meet and right so to do' staying at home for the sake of others. 

On this day

Fifty years ago today I was ordained priest by Archbishop Glyn Simon in Llandaff Cathedral. I often think about that moment, kneeling under Epstein's glorious 'Majestas' sculpture. I see his masterwork, as being a Son of Man image, given the Christ figure has no wounds. When he was Dean of Llandaff after the war he Dean Glyn was the driving force of Cathedral restoration after bomb damage, and the installation of the 'Majestas' was part of that, and controversial from the start. It looks as fresh and engaging today as it did when I first saw it as a kid sixty years ago. It still says to me 'And who is this man?'

I was in awe of +Glyn when I met him as an undergraduate in Bristol. His son Nick was in the same hall of residence as I was, and on an occasion when +Glyn visited, I invited him and his to tea in my room. He was a quiet scholarly mild mannered man. I'm not sure if at that time I was thinking about ordination, but the fact that he accepted my invitation made an impression on me. It was many years later I discovered that in his early career he had been Warden of Church Hostel in Bangor, a student residence for theologians and ordinands. Being at ease with students came naturally to him.

He was a year away from retirement at the time of my ordination, and suffering from Parkinson's disease. Typically flippant and tasteless in their irreverent banter, some ordinands speculated about whether the Holy Spirit would 'take' to the candidate from trembling hands. Some bizarre understandings of the grace of Holy Orders as a kind of magical ritual contagion knocked around in those days. It didn't reflect what was learned at College, but acquired on the way there from eccentric traditionalists.

We started the day with our usual Saturday pancake breakfast. I finished the sermon and went to the shops before cooking lunch, an experiment with stuffed peppers for me and a making veggie burgers for Clare, using couscous and soya mince. A learning experience. I did two shorter walks in the afternoon to vary my activity pattern to mitigate the problem of painful feet after a long walk. I'm need to insert more rest into my physical activity I think, being a bit fragile at the moment with unresolved blood pressure and wound infection concerns. Accepting that I'm more vulnerable these days is very hard. I wish I was fifty years younger, without the inexperience and lack of confidence of course!

It struck me that +Glyn's trembling hands and voice were a sign of vulnerability in a person of authority and spiritual leadership in the Welsh Church. That give a senses of perspective, reminding those who are in awe of power that Christ's strength is perfected in our weakness. Tomorrow's sermon is going to be about ordination as making space for a person to lead and serve the community, and in that space, to make space for others to be and become truly themselves. 

I've often wondered how I was found acceptable for ordination when I was just enthusiastic but lacking in certainty, confidence, and competence as well it seems to me. It's taken a long time to understand that others made space for me to be and become myself in ministry. It's what's happening at the heart of all the sacramental actions of the church. The Holy Spirit is the Comforter - the Hebrew word for 'comfort' means to make space for others. It's what it means to be Church for others. I'm sad and ashamed that so often the Church falls short in something as simple as this.

Return of the organ

Still no break in the overcast weather we've been experiencing since Thursday, but it was heartening this morning at St Catherine's Parish Eucharist to have live organ music again, although no singing due to the health restrictions imposed. Again there were twenty eight of us worshipping together, steady summer numbers. When school holidays are over, will the numbers pick up again without Sunday school being open? If it's to happen safely it will require extra safety measures which  and it may not be practicable straight away. 

I confess I'm relieved not to have any parochial pastoral responsibilities and no locum duty services to undertake at the moment. My time in Ibiza seems to have drained me of seal and desire to be useful in God's service, just grateful to be just on the receiving end for a change. Uncertainty about my state of health and feeling less well than I'm used to is a major factor. Tomorrow I'll be chasing my GP to find out what the blood tests taken nine days age have revealed.

After lunch and a siesta, we walked up to Llandaff Cathedral and enjoyed sitting quietly together in the nave before returning, dampened by light rain, which started unexpectedly not long after we left the house. The children's playground in Llandaff Fields finally re-opened re-opened yesterday. The chains have been removed from the gates. There's a new notice attached to the fence stating how many children are allowed to use the facility at any time, eighteen apparently, and another with the usual list of covid-19 precautions applied to playgrounds. 

Since the end of lock-down, children have been climbing the fence to play, if not lifted over it by some parents, while others shun and explain to their kids the reason why. As far as I can recall, no modifications have been made to playground apparatus during the long wait. Admittedly there are hundreds of play parks around the city, but what took them so long to unlock such a popular venue?

In the evening we watched a re-make of the crime thriller 'The Lady Vanishes', originally made famous in Hitchcock's 1938 movie. I was disappointed that this wasn't a showing of the original classic version.

Cathedral reunion

A cool overcast start to the day. It didn't warm up until the cloud broke up in the afternoon. Before we left for the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's, I started setting up a Pay Pal account for myself, and was much annoyed and frustrated by the refusal of HSBC to let me add my Visa debit account card details to Pay Pal, with no reason given. A web search revealed others have had the same problem, but nothing to indicate how this is resolved. It means I will have to go into the bank in the morning and ask how it can be achieved. It's something I don't need as we're due to drive to Oxwich tomorrow morning.

We were two dozen at the Eucharist, with Mthr Frances. She'd just come from celebrating a Facebook broadcast Eucharist at St John's, nice and simple, using the Lady Chapel. 

After lunch we walked to Llandaff Cathedral where we met Fr Mark. It's the first time we've seen him in six months, so it was good to catch up with him, and learn that all is well with him and his family. It has been a busy time for time with the Dean off sick since April. The Cathedral offered on-line Eucharists in the lock-down months, and has decided to continue, realising that there's a big audience of housebound people out there that they are able to reach better than ever, via the internet. 

Attendance numbers after the first week have been steady, about twice ours in Canton, after near to safe capacity attendances the first week back in church. It's a fraction of the old regular congregations. It's a common experience that many people are still nervous about resuming church attendance. And, there's the summer holiday travel factor to take into account as well.

Before supper I went to Thompson's Park with my Alpha 68 and took some photos. Later, I created a new Google Photos account, having realised that I'm running out of free storage space with existing accounts. Quite apart from the photos taken today, I remembered that I'd not uploaded my Oxwich photos from last October's half term visit, nearly three hundred of them. That was probably when I started thinking about starting a new archive account. It's taken me that long to do anything about it.

 

Progress, for better and for worse

Another sunny morning for a walk to St Catherine's for the Eucharist. We were about thirty this week, and it was Fr Benedict's first appearance at a church service there. Emma preached a superb sermon evoking memories of childhood in the Valleys, talking about 'Our Mam's' ability to conjure up a plate of food for anyone who turned up, when often it seemed she had very little in the larder to conjure with. The context was the Gospel about feeding the five thousand. She also talked about moments when Jesus just wanted to be alone for a brief while, to absorb what was happening before re-engaging with the crowd. It rang true.

Good news! The mid-week Eucharists can resume this week. St Luke's on Tuesday, St Catherine's on Wednesday and St John's Thursday, all at 10.30, so there's a standard time to remember across the Parish. Socially distanced coffee and chat to follow - bring your own!

I walked to the Cathedral in the afternoon for the third Sunday in a row, and said Evening Prayer from my phone, just at the time Choral Evensong would normally be taking place. Will it ever return?

Mother Francis asked Clare if she would video herself reading in Welsh the section of the Song of Azariah which features as a canticle in the daily office of the Church in Wales. She was bewildered, as there were a few oddities in the Welsh text. She wanted to cross check with the English version that she'd understood it correctly so she could recite it correctly, but was even more bewilderment when she couldn't find it in her bible. 

She was looking in a Bible without the Apocrypha - that slim volume of scriptural texts regarded by some, though not all Protestants as of secondary significance because their origin was not in a Hebrew text, but a Greek one. They come from the three centuries before Christ, and played a part in Catholic and Orthodox Churches, whereas reformers regarded them with suspicion, alleging they were source of abuse and false doctrine. Hence they find their place as supplement in reputable translations, and are omitted from conservative ones like the KJV. 

I realised Clare doesn't have a Welsh Bible with Apocrypha, only a Testament Newydd. Anyway I was able to find her the right passage for checking. A phone call to Eleri revealed that the Welsh text of the canticle published in the new Prayer Book office contains two typos. And how many more, I wonder. That's disgraceful in a bilingual church, although these days one can always get away with laying the blame on digital text editing rather than inattention or ignorance.

The new Google blogger interface is awful to use, as its drop down menus and search facility are so slow. I hope this is a work in progress and that it will improve. It makes my old Chromebook almost unusable. It's also uncomfortably slow on my Windows workstation, which equally robs me of time forcing me to machine mind whenever it updates. They're all the same, these big tech corporations  taking a simple easy to get used to product and imposing changes unasked for and unwanted.