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.

The memory jigsaw puzzle

The first of this year's Reith Lectures was broadcasted on Radio Four after breakfast on the subject of living with Artificial Intelligence by Professor Stuart Russell. It was really engaging, and easy to follow, a subject in need of careful consideration and of interest to me as a student of Philosophy of Science since before the advent of digital information. As an undergraduate my research project obliged me to compile basic data to support my meagre findings, by hunting through huge tomes of scientific reports from the 'Chemical Abstracts' library shelf. That got me thinking about scientific method and this has remained a subject of interest ever since. 

When I arrived at St German's for the school Mass this morning, a group of children were already sitting on the floor in front of the others with small portable xylophones, picking out a tune to accompany the rest of the three dozen or so children in singing a Christmas song. Due to current covid nervousness singing is not permitted in the school hall. Due to the church's high ceiling however, this is permissible. We've been told there's not going to be a Christmas concert or public nativity play this year. The unpredictable and often terrible weather rules out planning an outdoor performance. Tragic for children and their families.

When I got back home, I realised that I'd lost the only pair of middle distance specs I rely on for both reading and seeing clearly across a room. I hunted for them unsuccessfully while Clare cooked lunch and then I fetched this week's veggie bag. I rang Angela to ask if they were in church and could be set aside for me to collect, as I concluded they couldn't be anywhere else. Then I took the 24 bus to town and walked from Westgate Street to St German's. I hunted for the specs with no success, then rang Angela ago, who told me that Peter had gone to look for them. Seconds later an email arrived from him telling me where he'd left them. While hunting, I noticed that the sacristy safe had been left wide open, and closed it with the the chalice I used safely tucked inside. Unusual I thought but then realised why.

Normally Peter tidies up after the school Mass, takes the vessels away and locks them up. This time he'd been busy with an incoming enquiry about booking the hall, so in an effort to be helpful I'd taking the vessels to the sacristy and left them there, unsure of how to finish the job, as normally it's a task done by someone else at St German's. It's all looked after wonderfully for the officiating priest. Peter came in and found my specs. He left them in an unusual place. At the feet of St Joseph. Now there's no image of him in church, so this puzzled me until the penny dropped.

Already the nativity crib scene has been erected, as school classes visit church well before Christmas. When St Joseph had been unpacked, it was found that his head had come off. Peter had repaired him and left the figurine to get on a table in the back room where the flower vases are kept. He was easy to find, looking after my specs, once I realised. Peter's routine completion of chores had been disrupted every bit as much as mine, losing my specs, but things still worked together for good. All was safely gathered in. How our memories rely on routines, as well as observation to see the whole picture.

I took a couple of buses and walked to reach a house on time for a bereavement visit in Canton Court on the return trip, then contacted the undertakers about the detailed arrangement when I got back. That's only the second home visit I've done this year. Most pre-funeral arrangements are done by phone since the pandemic unfortunately.

After supper, the evening was taken up with writing this year's newsletter to accompany the Christmas cards. It's hard enough summarising the key points of the year let alone remembering what they are and when they happened. Mind you, I find the same when it comes to remembering each day's events that I blog about. It's as if memories aren't contained in any distinct order, but can be associated with each other in many different ways, elusive to identify. Only when you make the effort to tell the story do the pieces emerge and need sequencing. It's just like doing a jigsaw puzzle. I can think of no better analogy. 

Even more amazing is that for different reasons the rate of recall of certain memories seems to be quite quick, the bulk, rather slower, and some so slow that far longer times pass before recall allows a more complete picture of the past to emerge. It's fascinating, and recall seems to involve sensory cues. I find I rely greatly on photos and visual memories, whether of the day or years past, to evoke memories of an occasion whose story I want to tell. Short term memories are evasive on times, but recollections return later, when you thought you'd forgotten. It's as if every memory really exists, but outside of our normal time-frame of perception.

Early news reports state that the omicron variant of covid has milder symptoms, but is more contagious, and less likely to be fatal or cause serious illness. It will take time for rigorous consistent testing of the initial findings, but they are consistent with the overall evolutionary pattern of new diseases, which self adapt to be more transmissible and less likely to kill of their host. An overview due to Darwin's work, so often vilified by biblical fundamentalists with an overly narrow view of the workings of the creative process. They never really read Genesis chapter one and saw in it an outline of the evolution of the known world from absolute simplicity to complex diversity which precedes science. Perceptive myth was never intended to be taken literally but to awaken people to see the mystery of creation differently.