Travel triumph and embarrassment

I arrived at St George's this morning in time to greet some of the regulars and have a quick chat with Rev Doreen about the adult Confirmation group, before taking the car and heading off to Salinas. As ever Sunday morning, traffic cones restricted flow on the Paseo de Reding. As it was unclear what this would mean for my planned exit route, and to avoid the confusion I experienced this time last month, I turned down on to the coast road, and wound my way around the streets in order to take the Avenida de Andalucia route out to the autovia. It's not as direct and takes a little more time and distance to reach the A45 junction turn for Granada this way, but it's straightforward, with less room for surprise deviations.

The weather was overcast, and as I climbed up the valley that brings the rio Guadalmedina down to the sea, started to rain and continued until I reached Salinas. There were ten in the congregation, somewhat less than usual, with several choir members absent. We sang the ordinary of the Mass to good old Merbecke, with the Peruvian Gloria, and used the Taize version of 'Nada te turbe', which touched me greatly, reminding me of inspirational visits there over decades past, both from Britain and from Geneva. Must return there one of these days, it's fifty three years since our first visit. Even so, it makes me feel young in spirit, just thinking about it.

After a drink and a good chat in Manolo's bar afterwards, I drove back to Malaga, and found my way through the back streets past Plaza de la Merced the most direct way to La Magueta and St George's.

Having lingered a little, I was glad that I'd prepared a pot of stew for a late lunch, as I needed to be out of the house and on my way to the airport to meet my old friend Geoff for an hour, before he left for his flight back to East Midlands airport. He was here overnight, and then taking a service in St Andrews Los Boliches before presiding over the chaplaincy AGM. It was good to catch up with him face to face, and see him looking well, despite his challenging role as 'Voluntary Archdeacon', over the past four years, two of these in retirement.

On the way there, my bus card malfunctioned, not for the first time lately, so I had to pay cash. Later I visited the Malaga public transport website to find help in troubleshooting the problem, and had a rather embarrassing surprise. The malfunction was due to the card running out of money. I thought I had more than enough to cover my journeys, but evidently not. When I bought the card to use during my first visit here eighteen months ago the single fare rate for an hour's trip was €1.07. The website told me that it had gone up to €1.30 in January this year, probably increasing from some rate in between last year. 

So in effect, I'd not been putting enough money on the card, and had run it down faster than I realised. What an idiot! Malaga public transport information services are excellent, but there's nothing on the rolling information panels, or on the bus stop printed schedules to indicate the essential far rate, and you have to dig for it on the website. I suppose a rate increase would be all over the local news, and so most regular users would know. In fact, while I was trying to get the card to work and fumbling for my wallet once the bus driver demanded a fare in cash, a kindly fellow traveller aware of my plight pressed €1.30 into my hand to pay. But as I had cash on me, I thanked him and pressed it back into his hand. Ah los Malaguenos!

Last visit to Llanos del Peral

There were thirty people for the Eucharist at Llanos this morning, with Margie preaching an excellent sermon to an attentive audience. She ended with a simple prayer, and the congregation replied Amen with a single voice. That's how I was certain they were listening carefully. She doesn't have big voice but she does have a clear voice, and is able to measure her pace of delivery in tune with a resonance of the building's acoustic, so nobody would have to strain to hear her. Her unpacking of the parable of the talents was thorough and thoughtful. She admits to being enthusiastic over studying scripture and having an opportunity to convey this in preaching. The interregnum gave her an opportunity to do this more often and gain experience. It's been good for her and for other members of the ministry team in this far flung Chaplaincy.

Given the widespread shortage of Anglican clergy to fill vacancies and the length of time taken to fill them, the problem is also capable of being at the same time an opportunity to develop lay ministries. The challenge then for any incoming cleric is to enable this to flourish, and not to be an inhibitor of emerging vocations to new areas of ministry. The trouble is that whether clergy like preaching or not, they feel they ought to preach more often than not, as this is one of the key apostolic duties of every cleric, whether they are good at it or not. 

Perhaps it would be good for every church encouraging lay ministry to consider with its pastor how often each ministry team member should be assigned to preach, so that a spectrum of different interpretative voices and witnesses to discipleship can be heard by the whole community over time. The priest isn't just there to teach, but to make sure the whole church learns and teaches through all its ministers. Discerning together and organising a whole church education programme, taking into account the particular gifts of each contributor is quite a task. It cannot and should not be done solely by the cleric in charge, even if this is the dominant expectation on the part of church leaders. Doing this well so that church members are enthusiastic and motivated to learn can involve self-effacement for a cleric. Not preaching so often could be a more effective way of ensuring delivery of the 'Ministry of the Word' by affording fresh opportunities to others. And I say this as one who loves preaching and works hard at it.

As a locum priest, wherever, I go people make an effort to thank me for preaching, more so that for celebrating. Some say how much they appreciate having a succession of locum clergy to listen to during an interregnum. Evidently, variety is perceived as beneficial, and as such can be incorporated into the ministry of the long term resident priest also, if all involved give the matter adequate thought, and show willing to change traditional expectations. Now that I'm retired all I can do is plug the gaps, as requested. I'm no longer in a position to implement ideas I muse about here. Could I have done more of this forty years ago, I wonder?

On my return journey, I stopped outside Garrucha at one of the few convenience stores I know to be open on a Sunday, to buy the bottle of red wine I'd forgotten to get yesterday. A bottle of Romanian Pinot Noir caught my eye, one of several wines of Romanian origin in the shop. It's unusual to see foreign wine imports, with some French and Italian exceptions in bigger supermarkets. I wondered if the store has Romanian owners with links to a home wine exporter.

Spain has employed Romanian agricultural workers since well before the country joined the EU ten years ago. Some work in trucking and hospitality businesses, so why not food retail too? There are said to be a million Romanians in Spain, a third more than the number of British expats. Its Orthodox church has twenty parishes and a Cathedral in Madrid, almost the same number as the Archdeaconry of Gibraltar, though there are over seventy Anglican places of worship embraced by its Chaplaincies. Funny how noticing a wine label in a shop set me off on this little excursion of curiosity.