Car crisis Sunday and a church discovery

Uh-oh! The car didn't start. As I thought, the battery is beyond rescue, its ability to retain charge is  terminally reduced. Whether this is a matter of age, or a deficiency in alternator charging, needs to be determined. In case, this happened I'd arranged to call Ged at nine to confirm I was on my way, or call for help. The most effective solution was to take a taxi to their place, and collect a spare car of theirs to drive to Velez Malaga. I walked back to Calle Maestraza, by the bullring, where there's taxi rank, and took a ride to their place, in the hills nearby above the autovia.

It's the first time I'd driven a Honda Accord, and would be happy to do so again, as it didn't give me a second's anxiety. I just fitted into it and didn't didn't need to worry its controls. In the event I got to the church in Velez Malaga at the time I would have wanted to be there, half an hour beforehand. It was something of the surprise to those who'd been warned that there was a risk of my being last due to the latest car crisis.

By the time I returned to St George's, Doreen and Gilly had met with Confirmation candidates and briefed them about the Ascension Day service. Then they briefed me about the service, in which I have little to do, for a change. That's a lovely situation to find myself in, at the end of an unusual morning, to say the least.

Just as I was finishing lunch, Doreen called to say that her car had broken down on the autovia on her way home. She was waiting for the grua to turn up at the time. What an odd turn of affairs that both clergy cars on which normal services rely should break down on the same day.

Late in the afternoon, I took my Sony HX300 camera with me on my paseo and re-traced the route to the barrio El Molinillo and St Philip Neri Parish Church, hoping to get the photo I wanted of the west facade with a slightly wider angle lens. Even so, I couldn't capture the complete facade, just a bit more of it. Ah well, never mind. The Museo George Rando wasn't open, so I wasn't able to make another visit, so I turned back on Calle Ollerias, to make my way back to the port, to check out the cruise ship arrivals of the  day. Here I made quite an unexpected discovery.

There was a notice board beside an open archway on the street, announcing the 'Iglesia Evangélica Española del Redentor'. There was a simple courtyard at the heart of a three storey building at the end of the short passage from the street. Attached to this, a largish salon, presumably a chapel, which was closed, then corridor leading out into another brightly decorated courtyard flanked on two sides by small apartments. After a few minutes of pondering, the custos, a tall burly man, came to check me out, and we conversed for a while in Spanish. 

I learned that the church houses 70 odd refugees and asylum seekers, mainly from Central America and Africa. It's impressive for a minority church, founded in 1869. The 'Iglesia Evangélica Española' (IEE) denomination of which it's part, belongs to the World Alliance of Reformed Churches and the World Council of Churches, and comes out of part of Calvinist, rather than Lutheran reformation history. 

Spain didn't experience the upheavals of the sixteenth century reformation which produced a huge culture shift and political divisions in northern Europe, but protestant missionaries came to Spain in the late 18th, early 19th century. Lutheran and Reformed and other evangelical churches developed as a result. Later on the scene, when the Irish CofE was disestablished in 1880, it started missionary work in the the Iberian Peninsula, and established indigenous branches of the Communion in both Spain (IERE) and Portugal. These initiatives were never without their problems and persecutions for the established church, but thankfully today peace, harmony and partnership in witness prevails.

Heavens above, I just realised that this is the two thousandth blog post I've made in the eight years I have been writing 'Edge of the Centre'. Well more actually, come to think of it, I forked the blog under the title 'Spanish Sojourn' (88 posts) for my first Costa Azahar locum in 2012, then again under the title 'Sicilian December' (46) in 2013. Both were special first time experiences, but now, I rather wish I'd kept them all under one blog title

Reformation heroes

As I arrived at St George's this morning, on my way to celebrate the mid-week Eucharist, there was a crowd of three dozen youngsters flocking around the Cemetery gatehouse, just arrived with their teachers for a tour by way of a history lesson. Annoyingly, I'd left the church keys in my raincoat pocket, so couldn't open the church, so had to wait with the couple who'd come for the service for Rosella's arrival, as she had a set of keys. A little too late, I learned that the gatehouse manager also has a set of church keys. Now I know, for another time!

He and the school party followed me up to the church, and he gave them the introductory talk about the history of the cemetery, at first in good English, but reverting to Spanish when he realised that he was losing some of the kids. Then, I found it hard to follow him in Spanish as he spoke at normal pace, too fast for me. They were obviously having a good time, and several of them made an effort to greet me, and a few requested the whereabouts of the toilet, which was good Spanish practice for me. One of the teachers told me they were from a Torremolinos school, and that the class included a group of German kids on an exchange visit. Perhaps partly the reason for starting by addressing the group in English, as German teenagers would have more of a grasp of English at their age, as they'd have started Spanish later. Ah, proper education!

Today's celebration commemorated Thomas Cranmer of Canterbury, along with William Tyndall, my cultural heroes of the English reformation, Tyndall because of his seminal Biblical translation work, Cranmer because of his liturgical translations and innovative thinking behind the creation of the Book of Common Prayer both in 1549 and 1552 versions. Both of them lost their lives, because of their invaluable contributions to worship in our mother tongue, both of them politically murdered, in my opinion. 

I made a point of using the Common Worship Eucharistic Prayer C in traditional language, as this is the closest CW gets to his original 1545 oeuvre. Throughout the service, I could see groups of kids outside, freely exploring and enjoying being out of the classroom for a change. I was amused earlier when one of the local lads asked me how much the church was worth. Son of an estate agent? I wondered.

The four of us attending the Eucharist stayed on for Bible study, then I had to make haste back to the apartment to eat lunch before driving to Velez Malaga for their afternoon Bible study. I only just succeeded in arriving on time as I needed to get some petrol on my way there. There were seven of us for this week's session, and we finished off in a cafe across the main road. I was charged with the task of checking documents for a Safeguarding vetting application for a churchwarden new last year, and the process had for various reasons been delayed. It's a not infrequent issues for office holders in expatriate communities, it seems.

Then back to Malaga, and a fresh attempt to find another of the routes down from the A7 autovia to the Paseo Maritime. It's good to know about them all, as there can so easily be traffic diversions or congestion in a particular spot. The one I found today descends into Pedregalejo, the next commune along to the east along the coast from La Malagueta. The last kilometre or so is down a winding and steep road to a set of traffic lights, so sometimes there can be long queues to get out on to the Paseo Maritime. Next time I go to Velez, I'll have to explore this route in the opposite direction, although it's not going to be quite as straightforward.

   

Visitors and visiting

This morning I drove to Velez Malaga to celebrate the Eucharist for a congregation of eighteen. We had visitors from Berlin, two couples. Curiously, both the women wore scarves over their heads, not in a way that suggested they might be Muslim, but more reminiscent of old time custom for women to cover their heads for worship. There are conservative Christian sects which still do this, but this is uncommon in my experience among modern Lutheran, and one of the men said they were Lutheran, yet they didn't take communion. This is also unusual these days, because of ecumenical agreements between Anglicans and european Lutheran and Reformed Churches. 

Nobody afterwards asked them why they hadn't received communion. I wonder if they thought we were Roman Catholic, as we worshipped in a Catholic chapel? The women may have thought this to be respectful of local custom,  given the widespread observation of head covering among Spanish Catholic women, now rapidly dying out except for special occasions calling for traditional dress.

After a coffee with congregation members in a bar across the main road, I was taken by far to the finca of David and Janice on a steep hillside of the Valle de Torrox, a few kilometres from Torrox Pueblo. The place has spectacular views of the surrounding hills and out to sea beyond the  quite big mediaeval pueblo blanco built along a promontory rising up out of the valley.

The region was settled two millennia before the Moors came and developed the town as a coastal trading gateway to Granada, reached by a network of ridge trails. The valley is patterned with terraces olive tree and fruit orchards. David and Janice's steep hillside garden has orange, lemon, peach, crab apple, almond and avocado trees. After an excellent lunch accompanied by much story-telling, I came away with a bag of lemons and avocados that'll last me a good few weeks to come.

On the return journey, I investigated a route from the A7 autovia that follows the rio Guadalmedina down to the Plaza de la Merced in the Old Town, within easy reach of the apartment, having got this route wrong leaving town last Sunday. I was on course as anticipated until the last stretch. The road I should have turned into was blocked by police, obliging me to cross the river near La Rosaleda, the football stadium. The road signs were so confusing I went around a lengthy one way system a couple of times, none the wiser about how I could find the traffic lane for moving towards the city centre. It was the parking information sign for the city centre El Corte Ingles department store which got me established in the right direction. There was a string of these which led me back to familiar terrain.

Oh yes, the police road-block diverting traffic was due to a full passiontide procession through the streets of Nuestra Senora de la Piedad to and from the barrio Parish Church of the same name. I am learning to navigate the inner city streets by trial and error. Understanding and following the road signage conventions sometimes seems impossible, even though I've been driving in Spain for years.
    

Final duty assignment, and winding up

Saturday was, as ever, a day for finishing a sermon, while coping with heat and humidity. At the end of the afternoon I walked into the Old Town, and saw many smartly dressed people on their way to or returning from a baptism or a wedding in one of other of the parish churches. The marvellous 'Genesis' photo exhibition by Sebastian Salgado has now gone from Plaza de la Constitucion. It now seems so empty and spacious in contrast.

When the Cathedral bells rang, I walked over and joined in the Sunday Vigil Mass. An elderly priest was assisted by an elderly server, and two much younger Sisters, who led the singing, and assisted with proceedings. A couple of hundred people were present, but didn't join in the singing. I made an effort, as well as I could, having still not memorised the Spanish Ordinary of the Mass. It wasn't as easy to follow on this occasion, as the priest's accent made it difficult for me, even though earlier I had rehearsed the same readings in my sermon preparation.  I still have a long way to go, moving beyond guesswork with the spoken language.

This morning, I drove to Velez Malaga to celebrate their 10.30 Eucharist. There were two dozen of us present, and there was Pat and Peter's 60th wedding anniversary with food and drink after the service. They came up last for Communion, and stayed behind so I could give a special anniversary blessing. I had a prayer in mind, on my tablet, and stupidly forgot to take it with me, so I had to pray ad extempore instead, which was probably better, in the joy and serenity of the moment. Somehow, the Spirit compensates for all we lack.

After a delicious lunch, I drove back and impulsively started gathering in my things from around the apartment and packing them. When I'd done as much as I could, I tackled the church computer, removing my working files from it, leaving it ready for the next locum. Then, I finished my end of stay report, and had supper. Tomorrow, apart from cleaning up, there's not much to do apart from wait for my 04.00am airport taxi. I hate have to leave so early. I'd rather be able to go by public transport,  but it doesn't leave early enough for me to check in without time pressure. 

If I come here again, I'll aim to take cabin baggage, so I don't have to queue half an hour for Bag Drop, and so can take the earliest RENFE Cercania train to the airport, clear security and walk straight through to the departure gate in good time, eliminating all my present worries over missing the flight. The older I get, the easier I want to passage from one country to another to be. 

Mad dogs and ship spotters

This morning we drove to Velez-Malaga for the celebration of the Eucharist with a congregation of seventeen people. I was please to have an opportunity for Clare to meet the congregation here, in such a different environment from Malaga, yet with the same open, warm welcoming spirit. After, we joined the majority of worshippers for coffee and churros at Cafe el Tomate just along the street, before driving back to Malaga for lunch at the apartment.

On the last stretch of the drive along the Paseo Maritime, I noticed three large cruise ships docked in the port, as well as the usual Malaga-Melilla ferry. While Clare had a siesta, I walked out along the eastern quay to take photos. TUI Discovery 2 was docked at Terminal One, she's visited Malaga several times during my stay so far. At Terminal Two, Celebrity Reflection was docked - nearly a quarter of a mile long with 2300 passengers and 1200 crew. It's one of the giants of Mediterranean cruise ships.The area was a hive of activity with shuttle buses plying to and fro, taking visitors into the city.  

Moored at the quay further away from the terminals, in isolation and apparent inactivity behind locked security gates was Europa 2. I think it may be in between cruises, changing crew, re-stocking for its next voyage. This is one of the newest, most luxurious vessels of German Hapag Lloyd Line, taking just over five hundred passengers, all over the world. I think I may have seen it docked here before.

I got back to the apartment just as Clare was waking from her siesta, so then we went down to the beach for her afternoon swim. By suppertime, I was beginning to feel a little over-cooked. Although I am quite used to being outdoors in a hot and sunny climate, I have to be very careful, and avoid as much direct sun as possible. Already, I have an embarrassingly well tanned face, for someone who always wears a sun hat and stays in the shadows as much as possible.