Perspectives from on high

We went to the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. Emma preached in cheerleader mode (a role I know well from locum duties), encouraging people to continue working together in the way they've found they can under Fr Mark's leadership. I guess we rely on inspiration being given a voice rather than coming from a set of raw ideas, so it's natural for people to feel uncertain about how they will continue without a beloved pastor and guide. What harder to notice, however, is the momentum generated by effective ideas and ways of working together in a community. Cheerleading in this sense, is about acknowledging and affirming who we are, what we've become on the journey being made together. 

After the service, I went straight home to cook lunch, while Clare went down to the Riverside Market on Taff Embankment, as it's the 20th anniversary of its foundation. It's rare that we go there together nowadays, as we get a bag of organic veggies delivered by the Farmers Market to Chapter Arts Centre for us to collect every Wednesday and any special cheeses we can get from a new stall that's now going strong in Cardiff Market. 

I had an unexpected email from Fr Mark after lunch, asking if I could step in urgently and officiate at St John's monthly Evensong, as something unexpected had come up. How nice! I don't remember when I last officiated at an Evensong - oh yes I do. It was the end of August last year at the chapel of St Michael in Caux, 600m above Lac Leman. The service is an annual event in a beautiful turn of the 20th century Anglican building subsequently taken on by the local Vaudois protestant parish. Sadly it was impossible to organise this again during my recent locum stay. I was quite sad about that, as it's a wonderful venue for Evensong, with the setting sun streaming in over the Savoyard Alpes across the lake, bathing the interior in golden light. You just have to sing the Phos Hilaron.

Anyway, apart from the organist, I had a congregation of two, with a long OT passage from Joshua delineating the boundaries of the tribal territories to be occupied after crossing the Jordan. It's full of hard to pronounce place names, so the man who usually enjoys reading asked if he could read the NT lesson instead. As I read, that long inventory of locations, I found myself imagining flying over the terrain in a helicopter, and shared this thought with the faithful few subsequently. It occurred to me that today's mapping technology privileges us to get an overview of any place on earth in ways not available to our forebears, and thereby able to bring alive for us a passage of scripture which in times past would have been excruciatingly dull and unprofitable to listen to.

Afterwards the other attendee asked if I'd seen a recent programme about the Lebanon in which the presenter had gone up in a hot air balloon to view an historic landscape, as part of explaining the geography behind the politics and sociology. Yes, privileged we are indeed today! But will all these new perspectives and information about the world we live in help us better to answer the problems we face, I wonder?

    

Ascent to Caux by train

Today my month's abonnement demi-tarif expires. That's how long I've been here already, time has flown by. The weather was wet, but I was determined to take one last half price excursion, on the MOB railway line linking Montreux with Rochers de Naye. Hoping it would clear up, I waited until after lunch, when there was a break in the weather, then walked into Montreux gare to buy my ticket from the ticket office. As I approached the station, I found that I had left my abonnement demi-tarif at Church House, and you must have this and the correct ticket, or risk getting fined. Much annoyed with myself, I walked back to get it. And it started to rain. 

Rather than walk back to the station again, I decided to risk using the ticket machine at the funicular station behind Church House. This time I paid the correct fare for a journey up to Caux, rather than going all the way up to Rochers de Naye, because of the rotten weather, but the ticket it issued was another of those two hour time expiry jobs, as Caux is the outer limit of the local travel network zone. Printed on it was half the price I'd paid. I ascended to Glion on the funicular, and as I had ten minutes to wait for the connection with the train from Montreux, I decided to complain at the ticket office there. The ticket clerk was very dismissive of what I said, insisting the machine was always correct, refusing to accept that I had paid twice the sum I did for a proper point to point ticket. I was so upset, my French began to fail. The train arrived and I got on, thinking all I'd be able to do was ride up to Caux, then return on the down-train which crosses there with the up-train minutes later.

Thankfully, when we reached Caux, I had the presence of mind to check with one of the station staff about the time expiry terms and conditions, for the ticket doesn't state whether a journey must be ended in the two hour time frame or started. Still upset, I asked him in English and had a gracious response.  All you have to do is leave before the expiry time. It doesn't matter how long the journey takes. It wouldn't take much in any language to make that clear with a few words on the ticket.

So I had an hour before the next train, to look around and take photos. For the first twenty minutes it contined to rain, but then cleared up. I found my way to the former Anglican chapel of St Michael and photographes all its remarkable collection of stained glass windows on biblical themes. It's a tricky task because of back-lighting, and I'd have been happier to have my DSLR camera, but in any case I was pleased to have a second chance to take them, having forgotten my camera the first visit.

I returned on the twenty to six train, which was crowded with visitors returning from Rochers de Naye. Whether it was shrouded in mist and cloud or not I don't know. I remember that it was thus when we went up there to get a glimpse of the Alps and the whole of Lac Leman from 1,600m. One day maybe, I'll return to the top on a brighter day, with a proper ticket.

After a damp day of distressing minor misfortunes, there was a delightful surprise as the journey was nearing its end. In the front carriage a bearded craggy looking guy sat nursing a rather battered Sousaphone. I smiled, said 'Superb' and passed on up the carriage. Once the train emerged from the 180 degree tunnel which heralds the approach to the station, a Dixieland band struck up in the other carriage, playing 'When the Saints go Marching in', until we entered the station. I could only think the band had been playing a mountain top gig and were on their way home.

What a marvellous moment. It cheered me up and left me chuckling to myself as I walked back to Territet in the drizzle.

Baptismal streaming

There we just over twenty of us for the Sung Eucharist at St John's this morning. A young family came to join us on the occasion of Mum's birthday. They normally attend a Catholic church, but love a sung liturgy in English, so occasionally they come and join us - for a treat!

After a speedy lunch I made my way up to Villars via Bex. Fortunately the road wasn't only busy in places, and only one did we have to stop due to an over sized SUV making passing impossible in a narrow village hillside street. The driver had to reverse uphill for a hundred metres to find a place wide enough to let others through. In Gryon, we stopped briefly in a narrow street while a fleet of classic sports cars drove past. Having completed their runs in the Ollon-Villars hill climb event they were returning to base camp, I imagine. Anyway I got there in just an hour, and had plenty of time to spare.

The baptismal part turned out to be a lot smaller than anticipated - parents with infant and a friend, or possibly she was the baby's nanny. A godmother's flight planned from South Africa had been thrown into chaos by sudden travel restrictions imposed on Zimbabweans in the wake of a recent undiplomatic incident involving the wife of President Mugabe, so she didn't make it. Another was unable to come over in time from California, and grandparents who wanted to be there couldn't face travelling over from Australia. 

Aware this would be the case, I suggested that the couple make us of video phone internet calls to enable the absent to join in. So, they came equipped with a Macbook Air and a couple of iPhones. Five minutes before the service they called participants, each in a different time zone, and established a steady connection for all of them via 4G phone comms links, working surprisingly well up in the Alpes Vaudois at 1,300 metres. It meant that the baptism was audible and visible live on three continents at the same time. 

This is a pastoral first for me, and I was delighted how well it  went and how well it was received without awkwardness by the participants. Baby Annabelle was remarkably relaxed and calm about it all. A couple of years ago, an absent son participated by smartphone in his parents Spanish silver wedding anniversary blessing from his home in the UK. I understand some crematoria and funeral homes in Britain also offer a streaming service, though it's never been mentioned in relation to any funeral I've done. It's great that such technology can help dispersed families to strengthen their bonds of loyalty and affection on such important occasions when distance divides.

The drive down to Bex was busier with traffic, and not as easy as the ascent, since both traffic and the steepness of the ever winding road required a lot of additional braking, to the extent that brake fading set in worryingly, requiring me to stay in second or third all the way down, to stay safe. After all, I didn't need a car crisis to hinder me from officiating at Evensong. I got back to Church House with fifteen minutes to spare before Jane picked me up for the drive to Caux, perched on the side of the mountain 600 metres and 1.5km up a winding road above Montreux.

St Michael's Caux was built as an Anglican chapel and dedicated in 1906 to serve English visitors to several hotels of standing at the turn of the 20th century. It has some lovely Edwardian stained glass, all on angelic themes, which readily serve as a catechetical resource on the biblical ministry of Angels. As if that's not enough to beautify the interior, the apsidal sanctuary has a reredos carved in boxwood, which has an appealing orange brown hue to it. It has bas relief scenes from the last supper and the crucifixion of Jesus in dramatic detail. It was the work of artist Alfons de Wisplaere in Bruges, installed in the year the church was dedicated, as were the windows. Almost all the building and its artwork were the gift of one wealthy patron, Herbert Edgar Reid. 

I was annoyed with myself for having walked out of the house without a camera. I'll have to return properly equipped when opportunity arises. But first, some rest. It's good to know that I can still cope with such an eventful working day, preaching three times as well as taking services. Doubtless I'll pay for it tomorrow.