Overseers' oversights

Cloudy, warm, occasional glimpses of sky when I woke up at seven. Instead of dozing off again, I listened to the news and 'Sunday' religious magazine programme, which inevitably reported on the announcement Friday last, of the resignation of Andy John Archbishop of Wales 'with immediate effect'. Not exactly a surprise, sad to say. This last few months Bangor diocese and Cathedral have been in the spotlight for the wrong reasons, leading to a Provincial enquiry and a probe by the Charity Commissioners into financial irregularities in Cathedral management. Nothing to do with Bishop Andy himself but with misbehaviour by diocesan employees, acting in ways that betray trust placed in them as church office holders. What they did wrong for this to happen is one thing, but alongside it is the failure of oversight, if not denial of misbehaviour in face of concern expressed, not only in the media but also the Cathedral and diocese. 

Eight months ago the Archbishop of Canterbury resigned in similar circumstance for failing to deal with serious safeguarding issues in relation to complaints from church members subjected to sexual abuse by those entrusted with pastoral care in the church, both clerical and lay. His staff team could have done a lot better in raising concerns and nagging him until he acted. It's difficult enough when a person is constantly in the media spotlight, tackling a host of problems and challenges simultaneously. The demands of high public office are huge, and the church isn't best equipped to deal with them, like industry and commerce. 

By resigning, Bishop Justin admitted failure on behalf of the entire organised CofE. The Church in Wales is much smaller in comparison, with six dioceses and six hundred clergy, not forty two with 20,000. The same demands and distractions of public office still apply to the Archbishop of Wales, overseeing not just his own diocese of Bangor but supervising the affairs of the Province and leading his fellow bishops. Trust and confidence at every level of governance is essential. Before his resignation was announced, a meeting of the Church in Wales' Representative Body, its charitable trustees, with whom accountability for church  governance and financial affairs rests, passed a vote of no confidence in him. A decisive resigning issue.

Given the whiff of scandal and mounting criticism of Diocesan leadership over the months past, this has been a long drawn out affair, but still, at the root of it all is the betrayal of trust on the part of those he appointed to run the diocese. At least by letting this affair play out to its inevitable conclusion, the Church in Wales is left with an instructive case study of the consequences of a bishop not giving top priority to the role of Chief Pastor, and reminding his staff to ensure he stays faithful to this sacred commission.

I decided to worship at St German's this morning so I walked down to Cowbridge Road East and took a 17 bus to the city centre, then picked up an eastbound bus to take me within easy reach of the church. It's amazing to see the extent of redevelopment of run-down areas of Tredegarville and Adamsdown which has taken place over the past two decades, with student accommodation and offices along the route I walked. It was lovely to be welcomed back by members of the congregation, enjoy familiar a liturgy expression and a thoughtful sermon by Fr Jarel, who reflected on the diversity of expressions of faith and discipleship represented by the Apostles Peter and Paul, and reminded us that no matter what effort we make as Christ's disciples, we're all prone to weakness and failure, but in the end God's grace surpasses all our failings. 

It took two buses to get as far as Cowbridge Road after church, then I walked home from there. I took the precaution of preparing and part cooking lunch last night, as I knew how hungry I'd be, arriving home at a quarter to two. After eating, I spent an hour and a half writing, then fell asleep in the chair for over an hour before going out for a walk. The cloud cover had dispersed. There was no wind, and the evening sunshine at 23C was glorious. After supper, with nothing else to do, I watched another episode of 'The Sommerdahl Murders'. At least the crime investigation was complex, with a surprise twist in it at the very end. Its portrayal of a social environment in which sex with whoever you please is normal as long as they agree was insightful observing that it doesn't dispense with guilt or shame if a person feels they have something to hide.

A is for Archbishop as well as A.I.

Last night my first 'covid passport' expired and as we have a matinee concert performance to attend at the RWCMD this afternoon, renewal was my priority after breakfast. I failed to get a result from the NHS digital app on my phone which referred me to NHS Wales digital equivalent without providing a weblink that would land me exactly on the page I needed. Or if it was there, it was somewhat obscured from plain view by too much irrelevant advisory text. I had to google the correct page on my PC to reach where I needed to be, and then it was straightforward to download and put on both my phones. Perhaps I'm just old and stupid, but perhaps some stupid old digital feud between governmental IT silos of the four nations is the reason.

In this week's diocesan newsletter was a short greeting video from newly elected Archbishop of Wales, Andy John, Bishop of Bangor. It's not a contentious appointment, but he's a safe pair of hands coming into office as the Province presses ahead reforming the structure of its entire parochial system, with one Benefice the size of a conventional area Deanery in many cases replacing individual Parishes many of which were probably carved from the larger area Deanery centuries ago. Why a 'Ministry Area' structure needed to be overlaid on the existing historic entity is hard to see. Admittedly demographic and social changes have occurred that make some ancient Deaneries boundaries irrelevant. They could have been tinkered with, but I suspect that would be more expensive legally than overlaying a new Ministry Area structure on a grouping of churches and then dissolving the ancient structure in one fell swoop.

Really, it's the way the plan has been implemented which is a problem for some. Some churches which have fought hard to survive, want to stay as they are and feel they will lose their identity, alleging their members have not had enough say in this decision. Others are now too impoverished and weak to care. Llandaff diocese has been a slow starter in this process. Pressure to complete has come at the most inopportune time during the pandemic, but more seriously because it can no longer afford to pay an adequate number of parochial clergy. 

A heart-breakingly difficult dilemma, as harsh as that faced by British churches at the reformation, when monasteries were dissolved, and monks who served as parish clergy were deprived of a living if they couldn't adapt to new vernacular liturgy or loyalty to the state. Some clerics are farced with redundancy and early retirement, or offered part time posts with free accommodation. Others are non-stipendiary clergy already or young enough to make a new career in secular employ, whether they want to, or not. It's been coming and avoided for as long as I have been in ministry. I retrained as a teacher forty years ago with that in mind, but somehow it never happened in my full time work life, and here I am in my seventies often working the equivalent of a half time minister's hours as a volunteer, and happy to do so.

While Clare had her online piano lesson, I listened to last Wednesdays Reith lecture about the use of A.I. in warfare, and what a challenge it is to agree global banning status for autonomous 'killer robots' that is equal to the ban on chemical and biological weapons, as different interested parties have different ideas of what autonomy consists of. Superpower governments are the most reluctant to agree to a universal ban for fear others will develop them in order to get the upper hand in the global strategic situation. 

The thought of killer drones that can use A.I. to select individuals based on facial recognition and target them for assassination with greater precision than a remotely operated unmanned aerial vehicle, is really disturbing. Tiny drones are already in development that can carry out covert surveillance, even indoors, and swarms of tiny light bearing drones performing aerial ballet were used in this year's Olympic games opening and closing ceremonies demonstrating the huge advances in remote control which have been made in the past few years.

After her lesson, Clare went to school for a couple of hours and I cooked lunch ready for her return. We had tickets for the matinee performance of the students' Christmas concert at the Royal Welsh College at three and walked over there through Bute Park. To my surprise, it turned out to be a full Christmas Carol concert accompanied by the College Big Band with fresh arrangements of a wide range of well known carols done in full strength music theatre mode, with jazzy swinging gospel numbers and fast moving choreographed ensemble singing by groups of singers and soloists. 

Everything was sympathetically re-interpreted and delivered with astounding energy. I was feeling rather jaded when I arrived but invigorated and awake when we left. I wanted to jump up, clap and shout hallelujah, but I'm not sure if that would have been deemed appropriate in an audience of staff members, elderly patrons like us, and just a selection of students (it was being live streamed for other students and family members around the world). Whether they were believers or not, they put conviction, heart and soul into performing in a way that seems lacking in church services.

I'd like to think that performing songs of faith so excellently might work its own miracle on those taking part. It's long been known that taking part in a passion play can lead a sceptic or someone going through a barren patch to a spiritual awakening. From my own experience I can say that the more I've preached and taught, the more confident in faith I've become without ever losing my natural scepticism and desire to test and question all religious assertions. I believe and hope this can also be true for others.

The sun was setting in a clear blue sky as we walked into town for some shopping before going home. With all the Christmas illuminations and streets full of brightly decorated market stalls, it was quite an enchanting scene. After supper, I settled down and watched a couple of episodes of the third series of 'Crossing Lines', ad free on the computer. There are major changes of cast in the new series, due to some characters being killed off, or disappearing from sight for reasons inexplicable so far. Only three characters from the first two series re-appear, and are joined by three more. Intriguing stuff.

Video hassles

Sunday worship on Radio Four first thing was from Brecon Cathedral, in honour of tomorrow's St David's Day. Archbishop John Davies preached, referring to his own call to ministry and reflecting his impending retirement. I remember meeting him first when he arrived as curate of Bulwark in Chepstow Parish, in the late 1980s where we lived during my time working for USPG as Area Secretary for Wales. I wonder what he plans to do in retirement? It seems strange to have been around long enough in ministry to see eight Archbishops of Wales come and go - Glyn, Gwilym, Derek, George, Alwyn, Rowan, Barry and now John.

What a delightful blessing to walk to church in sunlight under a clear bright blue sky in crisp morning air! There were thirty of us celebrating the Eucharist together again in St Catherine's. We're still hemmed in by 'no socialising' policy, even if we're careful to maintain social distance. No hanging around in the church grounds, go to the supermarket instead, or talk in the street with two metres (?) between you, if you want brief interaction or company of sorts. As if we weren't going to be careful, having survived this far!

It was warm enough to have lunch in the garden again today. I edited and wrote some of this week's parish WhatsApp Reflections before going out for a walk up to the Cathedral, and then to Llandaff Weir. It's the first time in many weeks that the footpath up to the weir has dried out enough not to feel treacherous underfoot.

After tea I set about recording tomorrow's St David's Day reflection, with a brief video introduction, a photo of Fran's icon and an audio commentary. I hadn't forgotten what I learned from recording my sister's eulogy last summer, and soon found out how to produce a viable video, which ran correctly on a PC, but not on a smartphone, producing only a perfect miniscule version. I tried every trick I could think of to get the video to display properly full screen without success. 

Fortunately a conversation with Kath proved to be helpful. I re-recorded the little video introduction in landscape mode, and replaced it in the file editor, then rendered it as a 720p video. The whole thing only looked best on a phone in landscape mode. There's a problem I cannot resolve with mixed portrait and landscape display. If I could have done the whole thing on my phone without resort to an internal video editor, maybe this problem would not exist, but my phone doesn't have a video editor I know of. Kath has developed expertise at video editing on her Mac, and on a smartphone in the course of work this past few years. Rhiannon, doing video projects at home for drama college uses only a smartphone, and produces some impressive sophisticated results. Ah! These digital natives!

A remarkable twenty million vaccinations have done in Britain in the first three months of deployment. It's a logistic triumph for thousands of people working together. All deserve a medal of honour. Six new cases of the Brazilian covid variant have been detected among passengers travelling from there on a flight via Zurich, thanks to rapid genome sequencing of test samples. Five of the six people infected have been tracked and traced, A sixth didn't give sufficient detail on their form to make tracing possible, potentially sowing infection chaos, so a high speed hunt is on to detect the potential super spreader. 

If only people weren't so careless about giving their details or neurotic enough to want to obscure them in the interests of personal privacy. In a village, it's not unusual for everyone to know each others' business. Now we're in a global village. While there are many good reasons for safeguarding personal privacy on a host of different issues, matters of who we are, where we've come from and going need to be known for the sake of the common good, and such doesn't have to be broadcasted or exploited to this end. Nobody is exempt from the risk of being a carrier or a victim of this plague.

Congregational choreography

Up at first light, to be sure of getting out of the house to walk to St Nicholas' Kenilworth for the eight o'clock Communion service for the feast of Candlemas, which is being observed in the CofE today. It's next week in the Church in Wales calendar. Interestingly the 'Sunday Worship' smartphone app gives Candlemas readings as an alternative for this week and next, as the fortieth day of Christmastide is this Thursday, so it can be observed in anticipation or retrospectively. It keeps us on our toes, I guess.

The Reverend Stella, a confident and outgoing priest, seemed a little tentative about keeping two dozen eight o'clockers on their toes, when at the start of the service she asked communicants to approach the rail and fill it from left to right, instead of the other way round. Exit from the high altar through a side chapel is to the right, and this simple logical measure could possibly serve to decongest the area before the sanctuary, so long as people standing in the choir stayed put until there was a pause in the flow from the rail. 

Habits formed over decades of routine worship are not easy to change. Success depends on people's ability to hear and obey one week, remember the next, and so on. It presupposes a degree of awareness of others which is going to vary depending on who's in the congregation, and who follows whom up to the rail. Having a steward place to direct worshippers may or may not be helpful, depending on their experience and tactfulness. Giving choreographic directions to a congregation isn't easy at the best of times. I sympathised with the Vicar's nervousness, something I recall well when trying to do something differently during my life in charge of a Parish. 

The change seemed to work as proposed. Perhaps there'd been a survey or a discussion leading to this? It's such a small thing, but an early, said service in an English Parish church is a model of respect and good manners. Participants, whether they are complete strangers or have known each other at church for a lifetime, give each other space and silence to be completely inward, engaged with the liturgy as much or as little as they desire. The peace is exchanged, as it has been for some years at St Nicholas', done briefly with warmth, courtesy and few words. I wish it were the same at every church service.

I enjoy the early morning walk to church here as the sun rises. The Reverend Stella preaches a modest length, well prepared sermon. Early birds don't get Liturgy Lite. Talking of which, on my way up the avenue of lime trees to the church, I saw several thrushes on the ground, plus a pair of blackbirds, one with a worm in its beak just tugged out of the ground. I haven't seen that since family camping days.

The house was quiet for a good hour or more after I returned, before the family awoke and came down for breakfast, well brunch. Then it was time for me to head back to Wales, as early afternoon they were going to Coventry to meet a student film crew, making a music video to accompany one of the songs on Sonrisa's forthcoming album, being crafted by Anto and the band in the attic sound studio above their house. It rained all the way back to Cardiff, but the roads weren't crowded.

Looking at news and photos on Facebook later, I was reminded that this afternoon was Archbishop Barry's farewell at Llandaff Cathedral. The place was packed with clergy and representatives from all over the diocese. Even if I'd been able to get home in time, I doubt if there'd have been a free space for me, and I wasn't aware in advance of how I might get one. Some time ago I decided to settle for sending him a personal letter of appreciation and farewell. He'll certainly remain in my prayers as he makes the transition from being a very public servant of the church to private citizen who happens to be a retired priest. May God bless and prosper him in his new way of life.

        

Farewell letter

This morning, despite feeling under the weather, for no reason I can understand, there was work to do. A funeral office to prepare for next Thursday, a sermon for Sunday, and the monthly diocesan Ad Clerum to be read, containing Archbishop Barry's touching farewell letter to his clergy before he steps down next month. Retirement for him must look very different now from what he might have imagined or planned just a couple of years ago, since his wife Hilary died, and he himself has just come through cancer surgery. Everyone hopes and prays that he'll have some time left to re-discover the blessings of life in all its beauty and simplicity after so many of his later years being devoted to high office with a national public profile. He has served the Church in Wales wonderfully well, and led the faithful in facing up to the challenges of change and decline with intelligence, integrity and courage. Such distinguished exemplary leadership.

I had intended to go to Martin Jones' funeral in St Woolos Cathedral this morning, but didn't feel up to the drive. Only after lunch did I begin to feel like my usual self.  Later, I took advantage of the improvement in the condition of my knee, to get some fresh air, walking into town to Motorpoint Arena via the covered market and back, a distance of over 6km. I visited the new speciality cheese stall in the market, called the Cheese Pantry, selling goat and sheep cheese made in Britain. Jolly good they are too. I do hope this venture will be successful. It's a great addition to a new generation of high quality food stalls which are so good for its reputation as a must visit venue for 'foodies'. All the market needs now is a high class restaurant on-site to showcase these products. 

The visit to Motorpoint took me to the Lodge, to retrieve the Blackberry, no longer of use to CBS, as it was already redundant, replaced automatically by BT with another phone last spring. I find it amazing that equipment gets automatically upgraded, even when it's working well. Redundancy is an accepted accountancy policy. Equipment is devalued over just three years, when its working life could be three times that or longer. It's very wasteful, something I've long disapproved of and resisted. I've been given the Blackberry, because it will last a good while longer. As its connectivity is so good when I'm abroad I plan to get a PAYG SIM account with a euro account to use with it when I'm next away.

   

Family deaths

The news media has been full this past few days of tributes to David Bowie and Alan Rickman after the announcement of their deaths. This morning I received an email to say that Archbishop Barry's wife Hilary had died after a two year struggle against cancer, and then this afternoon, another email from my cousin Dianne to tell me that another cousin, Thelma, had died. 

We all grew up together in the fifties, at a time when Dianne's mother, my godmother Celandine, was living in her parents' home, and the family home of cousins Thelma and Ros was next door. I lived a mile down the hill on the edge of Ystrad Mynach, and used to go to the grandparents' house to play. Of all the extended family members born and raised in the area, Thelma and Ros were the two who married and stayed settled in the Rhymney Valley. Since the death of their parents, they've been the only remaining personal link to the place of our childhood.

After a brief spell in the CBS office this afternoon, I had a bereavement visit to make, in relation to the funeral I've been asked to take at St German's next Friday. Sadly, this will clash with Hilary Morgan's funeral, so I won't be able to attend and pay my respects to an able and courageous woman who had her own career as a lawyer as being Archbishop Barry's mainstay. 

I spent an hour with three sisters of the six surviving children of an eighty year old widow who had two dozen grandchildren and at least as many great grandchildren, getting them to tell me things about her life which I could weave into a tribute at the service, as it seems no family member was inclined to do this on their behalf. Without the story told, a funeral would be very impersonal. The absence of a tribute would be noticed by mourners after the event, even if they hadn't thought of this in advance. So, I patiently press on until I have enough information to make a recognisable sketch to value a life. Could I do the same for my cousin Thelma? I hope I don't have to, as there are too many gaps to fill in since childhood days. When it comes to family I'd rather hear someone else tell their story.

  

Epiphany Day

I celebrated the Eucharist of Epiphany Day this morning at St German's with a class of thirty children and sixteen adults present. The sun shone and filled the church with cheerful light. The cross I'm to give to Hamid at his baptism was on the altar with the consecrated Gifts during the service, the customary way of blessing such a special object - by association, rather than with words. Afterwards, churchwarden Peter and I discussed the forthcoming asylum appeal tribunal hearing for Hamid, due to take place next week. Peter had received a message from Hamid's lawyer requesting statements from us both, prior to our attendance at the court hearing. 

I emailed the lawyer when I got back and later received a phone call, during which she interviewed me, drafted a statement, and then sent it to me for correction. I also need to prove to the court who I am and how I come to be ministering at St German's. The lawyer had said that you cannot assume that a law court knows anything about the church and its procedures of authorisation or the status of its representatives, and to be fair these things differ from one church to another. Apart from making a statement we conversed about matters religious, as there were things that needed a personal kind of explanation for her, since she was a Hindu. What a privilege for me to do this!

Sending a scan of my passport was easy. Statement correction took hours. I also had to write to Archbishop Barry to ask him to confirm my Permission to Officiate (PTO) in the Diocese and my role as locum priest at St German's, for the benefit of the court. A PTO isn't the subject of a certificate issued by the church. I'd quite forgotten that, and hunted around for a while in my files trying to find one. The only PTO document I could find dated back to the eighties. It was signed by all six Welsh Bishops allowing me to represent the work of my employer, mission agency USPG in the Province. Quite a rare document, of which I am proud, a relic of a very formative period in my working life in which my ministry as a missionary priest and preacher was established permanently, on the frontiers of mother church, rather than at its centre. Thank God, I'm still there, still being blessed.