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.

Diaconal ordination anniversary

I didn't want to preside and preach as usual today, but to perform the diaconal role as I did in my first year of public ministry. I still have the ordination stole which Clare made from some of the material used in her wedding dress, and she ironed the wrinkles out of it, ready for today.

Rhys came and presided, and Emma came too, dressed up and walked with us in procession, the sat in choir for the Eucharist. The challenge wasn't preaching, but the choreography of being a Deacon in the Liturgy, with no time to rehearse! I'm not sure if I have done this since priestly ordination. When I was new in ministry, the traditional ceremonial custom of a priest playing the part of the Deacon was falling into disfavour. New priests were generally keen to con-celebrate as the Vatican II Constitution on the Liturgy recommend. This was our idea of being progressive in those days.

Being Deacon for the day kept me on my toes throughout, and thankfully, it worked out OK. In the end, I was happy preaching what I'd prepared, although I suspect it was a bit longer than usual. After the service, I was presented with a huge decorated cake to cut and share.

The Sunday School children made a congratulatory banner for the hall wall as well. What a surprise!

There was lots of cake to take home after everyone present had a piece. I was much moved by the occasion, and the warmth of the greetings I received. I still find it hard to believe it's me. I don't feel I'm this old. There's still such a lot I feel I can do, and want to offer. I must settle for those opportunities that come to me as a gracious gift. I don't think I will ever feel that I've done enough.

We enjoyed a splendid lunch, and time together in garden sunshine after. Kath, Anto and Rhiannon  set out for Kenilworth at tea time, completing their journey home in the usual two hours. It was late when I set out for my daily walk, and nearly dark when I returned. The time from midsummer to the autumn equinox seems to slip by so quickly.

After supper I watched last night's double episode of Danish crimmie 'Darkness - those who kill' on BBC iPlayer, and then finished the final brief chapters of Pablo Poveda's novel 'El Maestro'. It's been a challenging experience reading a trilogy of contemporary novels in Spanish. A struggle on times, as the author uses a wide range of vocabulary, within the relatively simple narrative structure, calling for lots of dictionary look ups or guesswork. Easy enough to follow the story, but difficult to get all the detail, particularly in conversations which carry the inner plot complexities forward.

Although concerned with a dystopic future created by criminal minds harnessing modern technology and surveillance systems, the main character is an archetypal outsider who lives in the moment and becomes an accidental adversary to grass roots champions of democracy. Like many of those who see him as an unique legendary heroic role model and symbol of the freedom cause, his end is violent and bloody. In some ways the stories are as violent and bloody and fast paced as an old fashioned wild west tale. An intriguing set of books, but I might not have read them if I'd seen a review indicating how dark they would turn out to be. Having said that, I can they'd render nicely as a movie trilogy. I wonder if anyone is thinking of this?
   

Early birthday family weekend

Another good night, glad to be waking up to sunshine again, albeit a little later today as we edge toward the autumn equinox on Monday. We had a Saturday lie-in before breakfast, then Clare filled holes in the shed door with putty. I'll add another coat of weatherproofing paint later.

Kath, Anto and Rhiannon arrived with Owain mid-afternoon. The traffic was so bad that it doubled their usual journey time, so they arrived in time to pick him up from the station. Rhiannon presented a beautiful chocolate birthday cake she'd baked and decorated for her grandma. We're celebrating six days early, as next weekend was going to be less convenient for a family gathering. We took the cake with us to Stefanos' Restaurant in the evening for a family meal, and fed it into the restaurant's cheery birthday ritual, burning a Roman candle on top of the cake or ice cream pudding, and singing 'Happy Birthday to you', with some diners within earshot joining in.

After the meal, Owain took his leave of us, hastily taking a taxi to the station rather late, hoping to catch the last train back to Bristol. We were relieved to receive a WhatsApp message ten minutes later to say that he'd been successful. He needed time to himself, as he was in Berlin until Tuesday, then in London for a work conference on Wednesday, so he's still playing catch-up.

Today is the fiftieth anniversary of my ordination to the Diaconate. I've been working on tomorrow's sermon all week, and having printed it out, made more minor changes and printed it out again. I've decided for a change not to preach on the scriptures of the day, but on the meaning of the Diaconate as an ordained ministry. I think it's the first time I've ever done this.

Post-op day

Yesterday was the fiftieth anniversary of my ordination to the diaconate. I have taken out the slim leather bound KJV New Testament given to me by the Bishop and stole I wore for that occasion, made for me by Clare from the material used in her wedding dress, ready to use as visual aids, when I preach my anniversary sermon about the Diaconate at St Catherine's this Sunday. I've already printed out the text, but keep looking at it and editing it again in my head. Fine if you have the time to do it. 

I had a comfortable refreshing night's sleep, and was up early in the sunshine. I'm amazed at how quiet the wound has been. Two walks to the shops for groceries this morning, then my usual walk around Pontcanna Fields early afternoon, five and a half miles altogether, and not feeling tired afterwards. It indicates how energy draining the wound condition was in the months of waiting for op number three. 

As Clare was out at the spa, I spent several afternoon hours watching two episodes of 'Inspector (but now Comissar Borowski' on 'Walter Presents'. Series One was good, and Series Two is even better, revealing a man at work who is as good at intuition as he is at observation. His feisty geeky female partner is a Chief Inspector, now and has grown out of being his protege into more critical and conflictual relationship. The strengths and weaknesses of both characters are well drawn, and story lines often unusual, if not odd, occasionally verging on the bizarre, mildly humorous. a good watch. The north German way of speaking is easy to follow with the subtitles, adding to the enjoyment.

I sat at ease on the sofa watching the telly for three hours before supper, and was more comfortable in doing this and less fidgety than I've been in the past year. This is so good for the morale. I went and bought a card to write a thank you note to Mrs Cornish the surgeon. I feel the need to tell her that such a small intervention has made such a positive difference.

Remembering life-long commitment

After a disturbed night, I couldn't get myself into gear to go to St German's to attend Mass, as I'd intended. I have to accept there there are going to be good and bad days on the way to recovery. To me, my body reactions seem arbitrary, but in perspective the healing process still seems positive. 

The painter returned this morning to complete finishing touches on the rear of the house. There are a few tiles on the roof to be fixed, and then the scaffolding comes down. Job done..

This afternoon I extended my walk up the Taff beyond Llandaff Weir to Llandaff North road bridge and back, thanks to footpaths on both sides of the river. Thankfully, Cardiff is blessed with routes to  take you away from the incessant stream of car traffic.

Recently, after supper and listening to the nightly edition of 'The Archers' on Radio 4, with nothing better to do, I've been watching episodes of 'Law and Order' on Five USA. Initially, it was an effort to make sense of American judicial procedures, rather different from ours, yet equally dedicated to pursuit of truth and doing justice by perpetrators and victims. What's starting to impress me now is the way different episodes introduce debate on contemporary moral issues, and the challenge we all face in discerning how to do the truth in every different situation in which we find ourselves today.

I had a message from Revd, Doreen this afternoon, celebrating her fiftieth anniversary of clothing as a Novice of the Community of the Holy Name, the start of working out her call to ministry. I recall when we met several years ago while I was on locum duty in Málaga, she told me that she first sensed a calling to priesthood as a child. It finally happened for her over forty years later.

Co-incidentally, I made a personal retreat before my diaconal ordination at the Convent of the Holy Name in Malvern Link around the time of her clothing. A CHN sister made my first traditional style alb for me and I wore it for both ordinations, and at services for the next twenty years until I was given my first all-in-one cassock-alb as a parting gift by Halesowen parishioners in 1992. 

Fifty years later and we're both still active in the adventure of voluntary ministry, still energised by that vision and sense of mission that inspired us half a century ago. Thank God, that's all I can say.

    

New car arrives home

Mid-morning yesterday I had to visit the GP surgery to have some blood taken to test for infections. It's never an easy experience, as even the most skilful phlebotomist can spot my veins, but has trouble getting into them. It general takes two or three goes and leaves me feeling like a pin cushion.

Then, at lunchtime I went again over to Splott on the 61 bus to pay for and collect the car. With the MOT certificate done, having insured it last night, there remained only the tax to be paid. It was not possible to do this on-line as the paper documentation of change of ownership had only just been signed, but it was possible, thanks to a bar code attached to the registration document to visit the Post Office in Splott Road, and pay for it there, knowing this would immediately be registered if I should get stopped on my way home. 

After a brief introduction to the car's layout from Phil, I took to the road and drove across town. It's the first time I've driven for seven weeks in any country, so I needed to go carefully. I wasn't pleased that the space outside our house was still occupied by a car that occupied space carelessly, so that another smaller car could squeeze in behind it, which could have been possible if this car had parked closer to the one in front of it. This often happens in our street: un-mindful parking. So I had to park a little further down, so I can't look out of the window and admire it. Here it is!

Today I had an early appointment with my regular GP Dr Jordan, and basically we reviewed all that had happened in recent weeks, and my treatment. Where we proceed from here depends on success in dealing with the abscess. My blood test result had already been logged on the practice network. Very speedy! I'll have another one next week to see if the remaining traces of infection are eliminated by the penicillin I'm currently taking. It seems that apart from this my vital signs are normally healthy, which is good news. And so on it goes, getting fully fit for purpose again.

Today is the 49th anniversary of my ordination to the Diaconate and the start of my full time public ministry. so went to the usual Thursday Eucharist at St John's to give thanks. How blessed I felt, to be one of a dozen congregation members, on the receiving end for a change, and to feel I'm back home in the Parish I call home. Afterwards, I had a chat with Emma our new priest. She expresses her delight at being in Canton enjoying the people of the three churches, and settling into a lively community and making a new home here. I'm so pleased for her and her family. On my way back, I bought one of those foam doughnut shaped rings to sit on. It'll protect my healing wound from excess pressure, and make life less uncomfortable when sitting. This really makes me feel my age!

I cooked lunch for us, then later we went out food shopping together. Clare's been laid low with a virus this past few days, so it was her first proper outing since Monday. We had nothing better to do than watch different TV programmes in the evening, me live streaming an episode of 'Vera' with an app on my tablet, something that wouldn't have been possible in this household three years ago. How times have changed!

  

Getting there

Today is the anniversary of my ordination to the Diaconate forty seven years ago. It remains for me a key day in my life, receiving authority from the Church to proclaim God's Word and preach the Gospel. I'm still at it, and still look forward to the challenge scripture presents each week, to relate what's said in the readings to what's happening around us in the world. For me it's still a pleasure and privilege for which I am most grateful to God, and to the Church for putting up with me for so long.

The weather was warm, but pleasant enough for walking, so as well as going out to get some batteries, I walked the main street and the promenade before lunch. Again, after siesta, I went out for a much longer walk along the coast path, the full length of La Cala del Moral, and on to La Araña, the next and much smaller bay hosting the cement works. That's roughly half the distance to Málaga.

The N340a main road runs through La Cala del Moral about 200 metres inland. There are houses, some with gardens, down to the beach promenade, which runs roughly where the old railway line used to be. It's a good hundred metres from the promenade to the shore, and close to the promenade are some grassy areas palm trees and an asortment of beach restaurants. It's less built up and more spacious than Rincon, and that's more congenial.

La Araña, the next cove is such a contrast. Here the four lane highway cuts the heart of the original coastal village, from top to bottom. There are houses right on the beach, then the rest of the village is across this busy noisy road. The entire place is dominated by the cement factory, looming in the background. It's now owned and worked by a Chinese company. The village looks tired and drab, perhaps because of pollution from traffic and from the cement works. There were just a few people on the beach, but now it's no longer peak holiday season, and thee are more congenial places nearby for recreation. It felt like rather a sad place ruined by industry and not benefiting from it.

I'd been walking for nearly two hours by the time I got back, and really felt the benefit of a longer walk than usual - in all, eight kilometres.

  

Ordination weekend

After a nice leisurely breakfast outside, I completed my Sunday sermon. I had a text message from Phil to say that his priesting ordination was proceeding as planned - a great relief to me as his former tutor. I am sad that I couldn't be there to share in the laying on of hands. It was something I had to sacrifice in order to make the necessary time to be in ministry here, and I know he'd understand this. His passion for missionary prirethood is one I fully understand, even though his view of ministry is as consistently conservative as mine is radical. Both of us are fed by the orthodox sacramentalism of the Catholic church, and I'm convinced that the dialogue between tradition and innovation is essential to future health and vitality.

Jobs done, I headed off to town for a lunchtime wedding blessing at San Salvador Church. There was a congregation of about seventy, and among the junior bridesmaids were the couple's three daughters. Two were old enough to sit either side of their parents on their ceremonial 'thrones', and they behaved perfectly. The youngest was in the arms of a senior bridesmaid. Three musical interventions were made by a professional wedding singer, Amanda Rose, who also provided low key ambient music at other points in the service.

Two friends gave readings. One a poem, the other from Colossians. Both readers were given a round of applause. Not the first time it's happened this tour of duty. I couldn't help myself commenting, hopefully without sounding sarcastic, how nice that St Paul's gracious words on loving behaviour were appreciated, as he didn't always get such a good reception. It's become commonplace for applause, if not a cheer to be raised when a couple are pronounced husband and wife, and this occasion was no exception. It a way, it has a different kind of significance from the case where bride and groom are young, just leaving home. 

Here's a couple, well settled, with a young family, their life together may have started in a provisional sort of way, but experience has led them to a place where life long commitment under vows before God has come to make sense. They're at a stage in life where they can afford to splash out on a big stylish celebration, and they are re-telling the story about themselves in a way that will influence their children in the long run.

After the final blessing, parents, bridesmaids and groomsmen posed for photos with them before they led everyone out. It was their choice to do this, encouraged perhaps by the wedding organisers. There was nothing to do except wait until I was free to re-arrange the furniture and lock the sacristy as requested. As a guest officiant, I have to put up with things like this, which to my mind undermine the dignity of the conclusion. But at least people behaved in an orderly manner and weren't rowdy. As ever, the Plaza outside was full of interested on-lookers, many of whom applauded the bride as she arrived. What happened when they left however, I didn't see, as all were occupied with taking photos out on the Balcon, as ever.

I got back to Church house a little later than expected, having stopped on my way at a greengrocers to buy a pot of basil and some patatillos neuvos. Clare had cooked luch, having spent an age finding out where everything was kept in a kitchen she'd not organised, poor soul. I know that feeling too, from occupying different houses on locum duties.

After a siesta, we walked back into town, so Clare could buy a replacement chain for a pendant, and the go for another swim at Playa Calahonda, at the end of a fiercely hot afternoon. It was gone eight by the time we got back and nine when we sat down to supper. Thankfully, by this time it was starting to cool down. No need for fans or air conditioning yet!

Before the wedding, Judith faithfully turned up to give me support. She told me that Archdeacon Geoff, former Chaplain here, was in Madrid for the day to take part in three ordinations to the Diaconate. From San Salvador's church noticeboard, we learned that Don Miguel was also being priested this same morning in Malaga Cathedral to serve as Nerja's third parish priest. He's the one I met last Sunday, as we overlapped at the end of the service, while he was waiting to conduct a baptism. I'd thought he was a locum, as I'd not seen him before, but it turns out that he was then a Deacon, already placed in the parish and on duty. He's a mature odinand. I'll be interested to learn more about him. His first Mass in San Miguel is next Sunday.