Interrogating financial demand

I was late to bed last night but awake for 'Thought for the Day' and up for breakfast in time to leave to go to St Peter's on the 61 bus in good time for the 10.15 Eucharist. I didn't stay for coffee after the service but took the bus back to Canton with Kate one of the two Ministry Area Wardens for a meeting to which I had been invited about an unexpected increase in financial demand from the Diocese, considered unsustainable by Ministry Area churches. 

The impression all have received is that there's no fact based understanding of the economic capacity for generosity on the part of church members and the wider community in which the six churches of the Ministry Area are set. The question is how best to respond to this? We mulled this over for an hours and a half before having lunch together, and agreeing a tentative next step. What really needed is a way to raise questions about the assumptions made by those who manage diocesan finances. Are their decisions correctly informed? 

As ever, the real issue is a gulf between institutional church bureaucracy and grass roots communities of worshippers which seem unbridgeable unless such difficult questions are faced. Reforms in the way churches in the same geographical area work with each other, introduced by Bishop June, the previous diocesan bishop haven't yet succeeded in their intention, as they were dictated to parishes with no meaningful dialogue about the prospects of getting them to work. 

Admittedly covid damaged regular support for the churches. Recovery is still a work in progress and decline continues unremittingly. Judgement about how to cope with the situation, viewed from the top down or the bottom up, isn't going to be objective. We're far from having objectively informed dialogue between diocesan authorities and church congregations about how it's  possible to navigate through the present economic crisis. 

These thoughts plagued me after the meeting. I went straight into town to bank a cheque in the newly refurbished central HSBC branch, which has finally replaced all its automatic banking tills. It's now possible to pay in cash or cheques and withdraw money from the same machine. Clever little thing.

I had an idea of a Christmas present to buy for Clare, but I had to hunt for stores that would provide for me what I wanted.  I was delighted to have succeeded after trekking all over the city centre.

St Catherine's Nine Lessons and Carols took place this evening, and I joined a congregation of about a hundred and twenty for the hour and a quarter service, rather over-long to my mind, as there was a mini nativity scene and crib blessing in the middle, plus a liturgical 'dance of the angels', which was lovely and an uplifting contrast to all those words and music. I have to plan a carol service for St Peter's on New Year's Eve. Tonight's service has informed my thinking about how much time is 'enough' for an evening service with hospitality to follow. 

If I remember aright, this year's carol service congregation was bigger by two or three dozen compared to last year, suggesting to me that covide fears may be lifting and influencing casual, as opposed to regular church attendances. To my mind, this is significant, in an era where people aren't driven by obligation, as they were in times past, but by interest or curiosity. But, we'll see, long term.

During the service, still chewing over the problems presented by today's meeting, it occurred to me that what was needed was an independent fact checking process to examine the reality of the demand being made by the diocese that people in the Ministry Area contribute 25% more than they expected to, and at short notice. I have an idea about how fact checking may be possible, but that's for tomorrow.

Prove who you are - impersonally, really?

As ever on Monday some housework to do after breakfast. Then I went into town to meet Chris from his train, to sit and chat over a couple of coffees in a Royal Arcade cafe I'd passed but never been in before. It was quite busy, and there were several people working on the laptops, taking advantage of the free wi-fi, that is now become a common feature of just about every establishment open to the public in the city centre. You can also get free wi-fi when out and about in the street once you register. 

It's so different from how it was fifteen years ago when St John's pioneered the first public wireless access point in the in town, and certainly the first in a church. That ran for a year for free, as I recall, then lapsed, as the publicity stunt ended and wi-fi roll-out got going in earnest. It was rather clunky as speeds weren't great. More a proof of concept than anything else. But I was there! As Max Boyce would say.

Chris and I chatted for two hours, about the departure of the Bishop and the prospects for a new one. It was two by the time I arrived home for lunch, lovingly kept warm by an ever patient Clare. There was a message from Pidgeon's about a funeral the week after next. After I'd eaten, I went for a walk in the park, then recorded and edited the audio for this week's Thursday Morning Prayer and reflection. 

I returned to receive an email from the Euro-diocesan safeguarding officer with instructions about registering for the CofE Disclosure and Barring service database, something which I'd done three years ago prior to going to Ibiza. I dug out my password for the website, and was obliged to re-enter a list of required identity details, the same list as last time, if my memory serves me right. The next requirement is to get copies of three identity verification documents and get them signed for by a cleric - Mother Frances has agreed to do this when we meet for the Fountain choir concert rehearsal tomorrow night. 

Once signed, I have to scan and send them to the safeguarding officer. It's an onerous task, and it must be that much less straightforward for anyone who doesn't have the ability or technical resources on hand to do this. Proving who you are by supplying a whole lot of confidential data had now almost entirely supplanted personal relationship 'knowing and being known'. I see the point in a world where deceit and lies have become endemic, and identity theft is now crime whose impact is causing increasing concern, but the impersonal forensic nature of the process seems anything but pastoral when based on electronic communication. 

The only personal element is the responsibility entrusted to Mother Frances verifying my documents, as a cleric who knows me. I'll have to go through this procedure all over again soon, as the due date for my diocesan PTO will fall early in the New Year. I find this process at the heart of the church's enlistment for public ministry somewhat disturbing. The data doesn't say whether I am faithful, or trustworthy with the duties I undertake, only that I haven't transgressed the law and been found out. It hasn't stopped the church from losing members or gaining new ones. The distrust or disregard people have for the church is based on credibility of belief and practice in all our relationships. Not just compliance with the law. 

At least there's one thing to rejoice about today. I heard that Gerwyn, former Dean of Llandaff has been appointed Vicar of Thaxted in Essex, an historic Anglo-Catholic Parish in Essex with a radical social traditions, bringing to a happy closure the bitter dispute between Bishop June and Gerwyn about reforms imposed on the way the Cathedral and Parish were run. It attracted unwelcome publicity from the media, and affected his health, such that he hadn't worked since early in the pandemic and eventually resigned his office, withdrawing a formal complaint he'd made against her. It was a profound embarrassment for the Cathedral and diocese. Llandaff has a history of tense relationships between its Bishops and Deans, but nothing quite as open and exposed as this. Thankfully now, it's over.

After supper the last episode of 'London Kills' and latest of 'The Blacklist', almost impossible to fathom. After watching all fifteen episodes of the former I can say with confidence that the same clips of stock footage of London locations was re-used time and time again in between dialogue scenes, to no benefit apart from padding episodes out to forty five minutes instead of forty or less. It takes binge watching to notice things like that. I the porgramme commissioners notice, or care, I wonder?

Memorable Musical

This Sunday, the first of the New Year, is the first in the new era of Ministry Areas in Llandaff Diocese, with the historic pastoral area of the parish merged with neighbouring parishes to be 'managed' with a team of clergy assigned to, but not confined to working where they worked before. There is just the one governing council with a few people from each church represented on it, instead of each parish having its own church council. It's not yet clear how the traditional role of church wardens will be exercised, who will be appointed to it or how. Or what the consequences are of abolishing the office. 

It's creating a situation in which fewer lay people have a say in running their church. While it's true that recruiting a full complement of PCC members is more difficult as churches shrink in numbers, that's no reason to remove the opportunity to participate. There's a risk that when members no longer feel they are stakeholders, it'll mean they are less motivated to volunteer for church duties, and a greater burden of responsibility for running local affairs will fall on the clergy. Let's hope I'm wrong about this. I can't honestly pray for success, but can pray it doesn't lead to decline or to hard working clergy being broken by changes wished on them from above.

At St German's this morning baby Abigail was baptized during the Mass. With her parents was her Nan who flew in for the occasion from Amritsar. The couple are here for studies without family or friends to be here with them. Dad was keen to video parts of the service to send to relatives back home. Given the initial uncertainties surrounding new Ministry Area arrangements, it was a real blessing to welcome a new member into the Body of Christ, especially one whose Christian identity is rooted in the Indian sub-continent. Business as usual, in other words.

Covid restrictions have led to the suspension of after service refreshments for the moment, which was a pity as it meant we couldn't celebrate with Abigail's family before going home. But at least it meant I could reach home for lunch by one after getting soaked in a cloudburst walking from the church back door to my car parked at the front.

Afterwards I walked around Thompson's Park and then down to the Taff, listening again to yesterday's New Year concert in Vienna from the podcast I downloaded to my phone. Rain threatened again, but didn't materialise. The weather is changeable and temperatures dropping after a spell of unseasonable mildness. At the top entrance of Pontcanna Fields I found the first snowdrops of the year and the first tender leaf shoots of emerging daffodils in places where I have photographed them in previous years, so very early in the year.

Before supper, Clare and I sat and listened to Jazz CDs, then in the evening watched the new production of the 1936 American musical comedy 'Anything Goes' filmed in London's Barbican. It was delightful, brilliantly conceived and performed with inspiring dance routines and witty comic dialogue. It reminded me of the film of the stage show, one of many musicals watched on black and white TV as a youngster. Happy memories of going to bed as a kid, with the music continuing to play in my head as I fell asleep. The same thing now too.

What's in a name?

A slow start to the day. The morning just seemed to disappear, although I succeeded in recording the audio for next week's Morning Prayer video before lunch. 

In the afternoon, I walked into town through Bute Park for a look around. The park illuminations, skating rink in the Castle grounds and the Winter Wonderland attractions are all closed now and being dismantled. There weren't great crowds of sale shoppers around. Covid nervousness I suspect is keeping people away. I popped into John Lewis' to have a look at what was on offer in the sales but saw nothing of interest.

Before supper, I completed the Morning Prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube. This time I had to think about labelling it differently for the future. Previously it's been tagged 'From the Benefice of Canton', but at midnight tonight the Benefice as a legal pastoral entity is abolished. It's three Parish churches are going to be constituents in the new West Cardiff Ministry Area. The same is also true of St German's, merged into the Roath Ministry Area. It's not a move that I'm at all happy about, but must live with. 

Our group of three churches will continue to work together as they have done before. Relationships forged over the twenty five years the Team Ministry and Rectorial Benefice has existed will continue. I decided in future to label my contributions 'From Canton Parish in the West Cardiff Ministry Area. Although the ecclesiastical Parish is abolished, the civil parish, an area with its own historical record, continues to exist. That'll serve to prevent further erosion of the identity of the local churches planted here over a hundred and fifty years ago.

Unimpressed by the New Year's eve selection of TV viewing. We ended up watching the prequel movie to 'Star Trek' with its convoluted time shifting plot, excessively noisy special effects, and vaguely amusing dialogue recycling phrases from the vintage movie series. Seen it before. Then on Sky Arts, a Vienna New Year's Eve promenade popular orchestral concert from Vienna by André Rieu. A huge exuberant audience of not young enthusiasts behaving as if they were at a rock concert.  A recording from 2002. Another sort of time shifting I guess. The streets are quiet. No noticeable sound of parties. There will be fireworks but there's nothing to stay up for, to toast the New Year in. It's not really worth it until there's no more covid threat to inhibit traditional exuberance.

On-line Advent

We've seen a heartening increase in the number of parents with children at St Catherine's recently but this morning there were fewer, as there's a Christingle service at St John's this afternoon, booked to the full capacity allowed of eighty people. Now that's encouraging to know in these tough times! Mother Frances is on leave for the rest of this week, and has been busy attending to necessary details to cover in her absence - tiring in itself. She sent me a briefing email on safety protocols for church based funeral services, as I have my first one in St John's twelve days hence. 

Funerals directors must provide a list of mourners and contact numbers in their family groups who'll be attending, so that the verger can check them in on their arrival. I don't know if the same applies at crem funerals governed as they are by public health regulations. A list may need to be provided, but I've never seen a attendant checking mourners into the crem chapel. Some enter beforehand, others follow behind the coffin. 

Life is more complex when it comes to church services, as the dioceses are eager to impose strict safety conditions to minimise  contagion spread.  It's true that there are instances of funerals, weddings and other church services being 'superspreader' events before contagion dynamics were properly understood, and since then by groups wilfully, if not piously putting God to the test by denying the problem and ignoring the dangers, but these are the exception rather than the norm. 

Anglican traditional culture has long emphasised the importance of everything being done 'decently and in good order', despite the risk of seeming conventional and dull. Being a safe and stable foundation for communities of faith, innovating and adapting carefully, perhaps too slowly for the impulsive natured believer, has seen us weather centuries of harsh and hostile times of expansion and decline.

I'm surprised it's taken so long for church leaders to complain publicly about the government closure of churches during lock-down. It's in the interests of justice to demand evidence that stricter church service management regimes add to local contagion statistics, especially when churches actively support Track and Trace mechanisms properly with a steward signing worshippers into services. A one size fits all closure approach does nothing to help identify and sanction churches that don't comply. It is of course impossible to do anything to control the behaviour of worshippers once they have left church grounds where they are free to obey or break the rules and risk infection any way they want to, but it is vital that Parish congregations continue to act in an exemplary manner, for the common good.

Talking of church regulations, when I walked to the Cathedral straight after lunch today, I saw a notice displayed on the board outside about a petition for a Faculty (the church recognised equivalent to civil planning permission) to install cameras at four points in the Cathedral whose purpose will be to record or live stream worship services. Bravo, at last! This would have been beneficial earlier in the century, but video technology is so much more sophisticated, affordable and acceptable now that the pandemic forced so many more people throughout the world to rely on new technologies to communicate, socially, domestically, scientifically and economically. 

I remember meeting Fr Mark in the Cathedral one Sunday afternoon, and him talking about learning to record a Sunday Eucharist for on-line consumption during lock-down. What this revealed was the enthusiastic reception for the Cathedral's offering by a range of people, duty bound or housebound and unable to attend, plus extending the ability of ministry to reach out to a new audience ordinarily out of range. I hope we'll see this kind of initiative taken up at Parish level, the more affordable it becomes.

I got back from my walk early enough to listen to Evensong on Radio 3, except that it was an Advent procession of Carols  live from St John's College Cambridge, beautifully sung. In fact, as I was a couple of minutes late, I found the programme on BBC iPlayer on my Blackberry, rolled it back to the start, and listened with the phone plugged in to the dining room hi-fi. A lovely treat.

After supper, I accidentally came across a surprise music programme on Sky Arts, all about a London concert in 1985 by Rockabilly legend Carl Perkins and his band. He wrote and performed several songs which were huge hits for Elvis Presley, including 'Blue Suede Shoes'. The event seems to have been set up by South Walian rocker and music entrepreneur Dave Edmunds, brother of Ricky Dee who deejayed the parish discos at St Andrew's Penyrheol in the late sixties early seventies. Dave was there performing on stage as a guest star along with Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton and George Harrison. An amazing hour of music which took me back to my early teens and got me on my feet trying to sing along to lyrics half remembered, to fantastic live versions of songs unlike those on the '78 or '45 recordings of my youth. 

An unusual way to begin Advent indeed!

On this day

Fifty years ago today I was ordained priest by Archbishop Glyn Simon in Llandaff Cathedral. I often think about that moment, kneeling under Epstein's glorious 'Majestas' sculpture. I see his masterwork, as being a Son of Man image, given the Christ figure has no wounds. When he was Dean of Llandaff after the war he Dean Glyn was the driving force of Cathedral restoration after bomb damage, and the installation of the 'Majestas' was part of that, and controversial from the start. It looks as fresh and engaging today as it did when I first saw it as a kid sixty years ago. It still says to me 'And who is this man?'

I was in awe of +Glyn when I met him as an undergraduate in Bristol. His son Nick was in the same hall of residence as I was, and on an occasion when +Glyn visited, I invited him and his to tea in my room. He was a quiet scholarly mild mannered man. I'm not sure if at that time I was thinking about ordination, but the fact that he accepted my invitation made an impression on me. It was many years later I discovered that in his early career he had been Warden of Church Hostel in Bangor, a student residence for theologians and ordinands. Being at ease with students came naturally to him.

He was a year away from retirement at the time of my ordination, and suffering from Parkinson's disease. Typically flippant and tasteless in their irreverent banter, some ordinands speculated about whether the Holy Spirit would 'take' to the candidate from trembling hands. Some bizarre understandings of the grace of Holy Orders as a kind of magical ritual contagion knocked around in those days. It didn't reflect what was learned at College, but acquired on the way there from eccentric traditionalists.

We started the day with our usual Saturday pancake breakfast. I finished the sermon and went to the shops before cooking lunch, an experiment with stuffed peppers for me and a making veggie burgers for Clare, using couscous and soya mince. A learning experience. I did two shorter walks in the afternoon to vary my activity pattern to mitigate the problem of painful feet after a long walk. I'm need to insert more rest into my physical activity I think, being a bit fragile at the moment with unresolved blood pressure and wound infection concerns. Accepting that I'm more vulnerable these days is very hard. I wish I was fifty years younger, without the inexperience and lack of confidence of course!

It struck me that +Glyn's trembling hands and voice were a sign of vulnerability in a person of authority and spiritual leadership in the Welsh Church. That give a senses of perspective, reminding those who are in awe of power that Christ's strength is perfected in our weakness. Tomorrow's sermon is going to be about ordination as making space for a person to lead and serve the community, and in that space, to make space for others to be and become truly themselves. 

I've often wondered how I was found acceptable for ordination when I was just enthusiastic but lacking in certainty, confidence, and competence as well it seems to me. It's taken a long time to understand that others made space for me to be and become myself in ministry. It's what's happening at the heart of all the sacramental actions of the church. The Holy Spirit is the Comforter - the Hebrew word for 'comfort' means to make space for others. It's what it means to be Church for others. I'm sad and ashamed that so often the Church falls short in something as simple as this.

Quarantine Cymru - day Seven

I do enjoy waking up at sunrise, in this good weather. This week I've been going to bed an hour or so earlier than usual so I'm still getting a good night's sleep. After a week's in quarantine I've had none of the coronavirus symptoms so far, nor symptoms of the wound infection returning.

I had a phone call from Chris Reaney this morning. He was interested to find out about my return from Ibiza and my time there. He spoke about his experience of lock-down ministry in a valley community where only two members of his elderly congregation are internet users. He's had to keep in touch with his flock by 'phone and letter rather than Zoom and WhatsApp. A timely reminder that the digital divide is excluding some church members. Is this being taken into account by the powers that be in their enthusiasm to benefit the majority by use of electronic media?

More work on transcribing our Greek travel journal today. I have difficulty reading my fractured cramped handwriting on times. I think it's become more legible in later years. In contrast, Clare's handwriting was well rounded, balanced and clear to read in those days, and has changed little since then. I'm up to day twelve now, and we've just celebrated our first wedding anniversary, going to church on the island of Paros to join n the celebration of the Feast of the Transfiguration, our feast.

In the post, a birthday card from my sister June. It couldn't be sent to Ibiza during lockdown as I had no access to the chaplaincy house mailbox in the village of St Josep throughout my stay. Now it doubles up as a welcome home card. A nice touch.

After lunch I completed editing my Sunday sermon and then recorded it, and also gathered a few music tracks to use when I put the service together. When I installed Audacity on Windows 10 I was unable to use it to record as I have no plug and play USB microphone to wake up the software that records input. This morning I remembered that it was possible to dig down a few layers into the PC operating system and tweak the settings to record from a digital stream apart from a microphone. Now Audacity is working as intended, and that makes my life much easier.

Owain sent me a link to an Arena documentary called 'I am not a Negro' which makes use of writer James Baldwin's prophetic testimony on racism and the American way of life. Film footage of him being interviewed or lecturing was interspersed with film and photos from the 1950s to the present day of civil unrest, civil rights marches, and from a succession of movies portraying black people in a wide range of different ways. Baldwin spoke about his relationships with three murdered black activists - Medgar Evers, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jnr, and their relationships with each other as their shared struggle evolved.

It was powerful and disturbing to watch in the light of recent police murders of innocent African Americans, which have provoked storms of protest around the world and not just in America.

Bright St Agnes day

A couple of clear bright sunny days to start the week, perfect for walking, whether going out to do the weekly shopping, or enjoying the parks. Fr Rhys came on Monday evening to certify my passport photocopy ready for the Spanish police check application. I downloaded the Form 790 from the web, but found it worryingly different from a UK equivalent because of its legal terminology and structure that I'm not sure I'd be able to fill it in correctly to obtain a result. I think I need help with this.

St Agnes' day today, a fiesta with happy memories from my days working in St. Paul's Bristol, as Vicar of St Agnes Parish Church. It's the only one of the four parish churches in the area still open and active today, very much adapted to different circumstances in the forty years since I moved on.

This morning I did an hour long CofE on-line safeguarding training module, part of what diocese in Europe requires for renewing my PTO. It reminded me to enquire of the Bishop's Chaplain about the same for the diocese of Llandaff. It seems there are several in the pipeline. I hope they happen before I go away or after my return.

This afternoon, I was out just at the right time to catch a family of six red-wings out foraging in the avenue near the riding school, in exactly the same location where I saw them several years ago. Several families of long tail tits, plus a couple of coal tits were in the branches of the avenue of trees leading down to the Taff. There was a solitary missel thrush out in the middle of the football pitch to the north of the path, again where I've seen one several times before. 

The most wonderful sight was, however, several hundred starlings feeding closely together in the same area of grass in the middle of the same pitch. There were dog walkers circulating around the edge of the field, and every now and then the movement or sound of the dogs caused all the birds to rise into the air, travel a short distance and then settle again to feed in another densely packed area of grass. Once or twice, when the alignment of the flock was right, I heard the brief low hum of all those wings, a hundred and fifty years away. Exquisite!

Better safe

Monday and Tuesday, annoying it rained most of the day, making routine tasks, shopping and laundry harder to complete. It didn't stop my daily walks however, and much of my time at home was spent researching journey detail for my novel writing. I've now been asked to do two funerals in the coming fortnight. It's six weeks since I did the last one.

I saw a high spec second hand laptop at a recent price in the window of the Tourotech computer shop, and wondered about buying it. I have some older pieces of kit that I keep as spares but rarely have to use. In fact they aren't particularly nice to use for any extended length of time. I think they are ready for recycling. I checked, and Tourotech will do that for me. I have and regularly use quite an old Acer laptop, running Linux off a solid state drive. It's not wonderful for photo processing, but I can boot it into Libre Office with a file open for work in less than a minute. The same process on my Windows 10 workstation takes four to eight times as long, and that's not a slow machine. It's just that Windows punishes users refusing to keep devices permanently running and on-line. If Microsoft ignores this not insignificant user group it can expect to lose them to Linux, Mac or Android.

Anyway, I rehearsed the possibility of part exchanging the Acer for the device I fancied, concluding that it would need to have Windows running on it again. I found the spare Windows hard drive from Clare's laptop, now happily working with Linux Mint, and put it into the Acer to find out if it would work. As it had an intact rescue partition on it, this proved no problem, except that this called for the reformatting of the main partition and re-installation of Windows. This process took seven hours without attaching my One Drive account to it and letting it sync! Probably another couple of hours. If ever I install Linux on any device, it takes an hour, plus update time, although this happens in the background and doesn't stop one using it to work on.

The worst thing about doing this was that when I replaced the solid state drive with the Windows one I forgot to make an up to date file copy of my novel. Figuring out how to extract one from the Linux file system seemed too much of an effort so I had to guess where I had finished off the night before and write some more to another file to copy and paste. It's not often I fail to make multiple copies of a vital file when finishing for the day, but on this occasion I did, and was sorry for this lapse. Next day I put the solid state drive back into the Acer and continued working on it. I had second thoughts about getting a new laptop. The Acer keyboard is better than ones on the other old machines I want to get rid of and from a writers point of view it's as fast as it needs to be.

It's been a bright and sunny all day today, such a relief. In this morning's mail, the application forms for my Llandaff diocesan safeguarding check arrived. My Permission to Officiate which depends on passing this runs out at the end of March. After lunch I walked up to Llys Esgob to see Bishop's chaplain Sarah Rogers, one of several senior staff whose job description has recently had added to it the task of verifying identity documents for PTO applicants, a new requirement of the procedure. 

Five years ago, it was just a matter of sending identity documents to the Provincial Safeguarding Officer to be checked. Now each applicant has to be seen in person. As if the senior staff members didn't already have enough work to do! At least the end of producing passport, driving license and a document with my National Insurance Number on it for good measure, was that Sarah was able to put the completed application into her evening mailbag for sending. 

It's all a necessary formality, and as Sarah and I have known each other for eighteen years, there's no chance of anyone impersonating me, but it may not be the case for someone who's a newcomer, known by name but not by face in the diocese. In our contemporary world where credible identity theft is not unusual, an element of risk exists of abuse attached to any impersonal bureaucratic process. Trust in others has been replaced by evidence leading to proof that someone is trustworthy. 

This is not the same. It displaces the element of personal relatedness which makes us who we are. It can detract from our human dignity and sense of worth. In times past, we earned trustworthiness and respect through right and proper relationships with those we served without having to prove anything. Sure, things could go wrong, they can and still do, even for those whose identity credentials and police checks are impeccable but are cunning enough for their deceit and transgressons not to be found out, or because they deceived friends in high places into refusing to act on hearing concerns about their behaviour. Safeguarding checks are entirely necessary, but it's still possible for someone to have a clean record and yet still be abusive and a manipulator of others, and get away with it. It's a reality of life, yet thankfully today we are more vigilant than ever in history due to higher standards and values applying to the care and respect all people deserve, no matter who they are. The required change in disciple just takes some getting used to.

Post Pilgrimage Questions

We attended the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. Rhys presided and preached, and Emma was present, having celebrated earlier at St John's. She had a Baptism afterwards, and by the time we were gathering in the church hall after the service, a crowd of smartly dressed people were gathering outside in the grounds, arriving early for a twelve thirty start. 

Rhys spoke about the clergy school experience in Santiago from which they returned on Friday, also about life as pilgrimage, and about next year's centenary of the disestablished Church in Wales diocese of Llandaff. Santiago is likely to have been a much more intense experience for participants than Oxford because it was away from Britain, in a place steeped with religious history and fervour. It may well take those who took part a while to digest what they received. How will this impact on the ministry they offer in future, I wonder?

When I was working, clergy school was a positive experience of worship and sharing together, albeit usually held in Oxford. It's good and necessary that professional clergy should have time to review their ministries and bond together in this way. Given there are so many volunteers, both layfolk and retired clerics, also exercising ministry in partnership with full timers, I wonder what could ever be done to embrace them all in a process which lasts several days, in order to achieve the same ends? 

Bishop June wants us all to explore Pilgrimage further under her Diocesan Vision headlines; 'Telling a Joyful Story', 'Growing the Kingdom of God' and 'Building a Greater Capacity for Good'. To me it seems a bit vague. I'm unsure how this will translate into practical reality. Where do key activities of Listening and Dialogue come into the picture of a church renewing itself for mission? Are we still too concerned about what's left of our former selves as a traditional mainstream church, and not looking outwards nearly enough? Are we really hearing what's being said to us by people searching for a living faith but so far disappointed by our concerns and teaching? How does our church earn again the right to be heard when it comes to speaking of the things of God? 

  

The art of interpretation

I had a funeral at St John's this morning with about eighty people present, unusual for a ninety year old, except that this was a woman with a large extended family. They didn't seem to know much of her early life and it was only just before the funeral that someone doing the funeral paperwork let it be known that she had been born in the large corner house opposite the north porch entrance to the church. It's been divided into apartments for a long time but may have once been a maternity home. That was a surprise to everyone, when I mentioned it in paying tribute to her.

The funeral ended with burial in Western Cemetery in bright sunshine, accompanied by birdsong, As I was waiting for the hearse to arrive, I noticed in the burial plot close to where we were parked an unusual headstone. It was about a third taller than usual, and the top section was carved and painted into the form of outspread wings, not angel wings, but rather the form of Dumbo, Disney's baby elephant in the 1941 animated movie, whose ears were so big he finds he can use them to fly. 

It's the grave of a child I thought, but it was the tombstone of a 22 year old woman - sure someone's child - I imagine there's a story behind this choice. It wouldn't happen in a churchyard, where forms and images on monumental stones are closely controlled, but this is a municipal cemetery and its occupants reflect a far wider range of beliefs and tastes, some of which make me stop and think. The Dumbo story is a sideways take on the American Dream - you can make it you try - this unfortunate creature finds he can transform what others consider a liability (oversize ears) into an asset (wings). Is this a non-theologian's way of finding meaning in a premature death? You'd need to talk to the bereaved family to find out. 

Funerary monuments, in church and in churchyards until relatively recently used symbolism from the Classical world associated with grief and mourning. Sometimes the sculpted head or even full recumbent figure of the deceased as well as images of saints or angels praying were above a tomb. Instead these days, photographic images of the deceased can be etched into stone or rendered in an enamelled vignette and added to the memorial. Churchyards, at least in Britain, and maybe also in other protestant countries, tend to be more limited in what is displayed, not nearly as diverse and exotic as secular graveyards, or for that matter, mainstream Catholic cemeteries in Western Europe. It's all an aspect of how we identify ourselves and where we ultimately belong in the human story.

I had a clinic visit after lunch, and much to our relief was finally able to re-stock medical supplies. My clinic visits are reducing to three days in seven now that healing is progressing well, and often I can get by with a dressing change once a day, which Clare can do at home. We're back now to where we were before the second op five weeks ago. We're still waiting to hear when I'll be called for the next round of surgery, which may or may not be the last. We'll see.

I went into town late afternoon and mooched around the shops for an hour before heading out to say Mass at St Dyfrig and St Samson's Grangetown. I was standing in for Dr David who, like the rest of Llandaff diocesan licensed clergy are visiting Santiago de Compostella for a five day clergy school. Already festive tweets and pictures are being posted from #LlandaffinSantiago. Despite misgivings I have about them all going to Spain to think together about the meaning of pilgrimage, I can only pray this will be a blessed experience for them all.

It was the Parish Mother's Union Corporate Communion occasion this evening, Afterwards a group of half a dozen of them were going out for what they called 'a belated Christmas meal together'. I liked that. We were ten of us altogether, and I used the next day's liturgy of St Matthias the Apostle to mark the occasion. Any excuse to talk about a missionary saint and martyr, that's me!

Disconcerting news

I was saddened to learn yesterday evening that Malaga is soon to be without a priest again, as things didn't work out for Fr Paul with the congregations there, so he's moving to Gran Canaria next month. After such high hopes of a new beginning last Pentecost, this is a crushing blow for the church there. Fifteen months ago it was suggested that I might go there for an interim year of ministry to help the church move on from a succession of shortened ministries and long interregna. A part of me regrets not taking up this idea. At present I'm not in a position offer them any kind of help, which adds to the regret. Well, I can still pray for the resurgence of new life despite everything going on.

I had an email from Emma today asking if I could do a funeral in two weeks time, when she and all the serving clergy of the diocese are at Clergy School in Santiago de Compostela. This takes 'Pilgrimage' as its theme, though why it's necessary to fly everyone to Spain for a few days for this when you could do the same at St Beuno's in Denbighshire or St David's in Pembrokeshire puzzles me. This comes as Parliament debates the global climate change emergency and people are on the streets protesting that not enough is being done in response to the crisis of this magnitude. Increasing the diocesan carbon footprint to such an extent won't do anything to enhance the credibility of the church at this moment in history. I see it as a spectacular own goal.

Emma told me that the appointment process to find a new Team Rector was unsuccessful and will have to be run again. So the interregnum is now set to continue into the autumn. She also asked me to do a Christening at St Luke's next month, on the day of the Benefice Confirmation service. It's one of those situations when it's not practical to do this during a main service. I'm happy to help out with this. This a rare treat for me these days. I did one last summer in Montreux, and one the previous autumn in Villars, and before that, I cannot recall.

It was otherwise a routine day, with a visit to the wound clinic, the weekly grocery shopping to do, and bereavement visit arrangements to make. I needed extra rest too, as the weekend's travel drained my reserves. I still can't get used to this, and hope it's nothing more than a consequence of on-going wound healing.
   

A licensing at Evensong

Fr Rhys celebrated the Parish Churches we attended at St Catherine's this morning. I had to rush off to the wound clinic in St David's Hospital straight after, as I had an earlier than usual appointment. It meant I was back home for lunch punctually, and had an afternoon to finish watching the last three episodes of 'Killer by the Lake',

How it all worked out was interesting, as suspicions fell on several people close to the investigators in turn, before an unlikely perpetrator emerged, who was even closer, with a hidden tragic family history and a deadly schizoid condition. It was only thanks to several seemingly unrelated incidents impacting upon the case that the killer was discovered at all, despite the best appliance of crime science to the case. Luck and coincidence played their part, not an uncommon story, I imagine, in real life too. Alongside this, the portrayal, with some fine acting, of a lead detective's mother with early onset Alzheimer's, effectively woven into the storyline - more then, than just a crime thriller. 

I watched on my tablet, stretched out in bed, by far the most comfortable thing to do at the moment. My gluteous maximus muscles have lost bulk with my overall weight loss, so I'm less well padded than I used to be. It means the Seton's sutures dig into me more than earlier so sitting still without getting up for any length of time is hard.

We walked to St John's for Evensong at six. After the sermon, Fr Rhys was licensed to the Parish  by Archdeacon Peggy as a NSM Associate Priest - that's new catch-all designation jargon for whoever isn't Team Rector or Incumbent. It's meant to cover Curates, Team Vicars, and non-stipendiary clergy in a ministry area team, but not those with Permission to Officiate, whether as retirees or salaried priests not on the diocesan payroll, (as I was when a University Chaplain, and when I was a USPG Area Secretary), offering voluntary ministry in Parishes on request without a formal role. It's all a bit odd to the uninitiated.

There were three dozen in the congregation, including Fr Peter Sedgwick, whom I haven't seen for more than a year. We used to meet out in the Fields when he and Jan were walking their dog, but the dog died unexpectedly last year and hasn't yet been replaced so their habitual pattern is in suspense. Peter is active working in a local food bank, with refugees and with homeless people, when he's not taking part in high level ARCIC consultations. And, he's recently published a magisterial tome on a subject close to his own heart, Anglican moral and pastoral theology. It's been well received I'm glad to say. It was very good to catch up with him again.
  

Post-op - day four

Clare cooked waffles for breakfast in honour of Rhiannon's stay, one of her favourites. The two of them went to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama at lunchtime, to attend a play reading which is part of a drama student practical project. Clare got to hear about it as a member of the 'Connect' friends of RWCMD organisation. 

Student groups design and present several short plays for a specific little theatre venue (reproduced physically in the College), working with the real life theatre director and producer whose venue it is. At the end of the project, the plays are done in the intended location, the Gate Theatre, Notting Hill. It's a brilliant educational idea, as they can pause, analyse and reflect at each stage of the process with the help of staff and an actual theatre director, without being under the usual commercial time pressure of a real-time situation. It's a RWCMD innovation, now emulated by other performing arts places around Britain. As Rhiannon is keen on performing arts and design, we thought this would be of interest, and so she was!

A District Nurse came at the end of the morning, and agreed I was in a fit enough state to attend the wound clinic tomorrow. Later in the day she rang through with an appointment time. They may need me to attend daily for a while. I don't mind, as it allows me to structure my day to include a walk. 

After lunch and a siesta, I walked around Pontcanna Fields and visited Blackweir Bridge for the first time since the op. It was mild and the sun shone in a cloudless sky, and I felt pretty good, elated in fact, about being alive and this well, just four days into recovery. I walked two and  a half miles, and didn't feel exhausted afterwards.

Martin phoned me while I was out and told me about the sudden death of a near contemporary, John Lewis, Dean of Llandaff who retired in 2012. He had suffered from heart trouble while in office but regained health sufficiently to live out his three score years and ten. His death reminds me that I too am on borrowed time, more so, after six months of surviving in such an infection prone state. There's no telling how long we have to live. It's a matter of being grateful for what we get. Especially extra time, which is extra quality time, like today.

St James' Eve licensing

It was glad to attend the licensing of Emma Rees Kenny as Team Vicar in Canton Benefice tonight. At last a full time colleague for Fr Mark, and no more home locum duties for me, hopefully for a good while to come. There was a congregation at St John's of about a hundred from all three churches. Fr Mark invited me to robe and sit in choir, along with Fr Colin, another retired priest who helps in the Parish plus Rosie Dymond of St Padarn's institute, now assigned to the Parish as a NSM priest. Bishop June preached on the ambition of the mother of the sons Zebedee, arising from the Gospel for St James' Day which is tomorrow. She also took time to talk about her plan to hold the next Diocesan Clergy School as a pilgrimage event at Santiago de Compostela. Amazing!

Personally, I have misgivings about this particular Camino, whose popularity has revived in recent decades, resulting in a huge increase in the number of pilgrims walking at least the last 100km, but with many more completing the official 810km route from St Jean Pied de Port in France. While I understand and appreciate the desire to make such a journey at walking pace over several months as a long retreat and means of self exploration and spiritual development, and the fact that people have been doing this for the past twelve centuries, the connection of the place to James the Great, the first of the Apostles to be martyred, has no biblical basis.

Stories attached to the translation of relics which may or may not have been his, are all legendary if not magical. Yet this pilgrimage persisted, as a popular spiritual expedition for a host of complex social, cultural and economic reasons. It's a pilgrimage hallowed by a long tradition of prayer and hospitality, but is it pilgrimage for pilgrimage sake? I wonder, like being famous for being famous? I could understand better the reason if the place was actually linked with the life and witness of the saint, as is often the case. I've spent time in Jerusalem, Rome and Damascus in the footsteps of Christ and the Apostles, and believe I learned from this, even if I only walked at length in the heat around these ancient cities and not to them from a distance. It's also good to reflect on the differences between the world then and now. For me the story behind the pilgrimage, gives reason for the journey. It has to count.

As a retired priest, I no longer have an obligation to go the Diocesan clergy school. I'll be interested to learn, from those who attend, how this event is arranged and what learning plan will be followed. Bishop June is an original thinker and a good teacher, so I'm sure it won't be a dull or dutiful affair. 

Llys Esgob garden party

Midweek Eucharists again at St Catherine's and St John's again on Wednesday and Thursday. Apart from that, much quiet enjoyment of hot sunny days. I had another bereavement meeting today, at Pidgeon's funeral home, for a service a week today. The deceased had worked as a young mother as a domestic cleaner in Llandaff, for a Mr & Mrs Rees of the Old Registry, I learned from preparing her eulogy. The address seemed like a familiar echo from the past, and so it turned out to be when I rang her daughter daughter to check. 

She told me Mum had worked for the Reverend Geoffrey Rees and his wife Lil, who was Principal of St Michael's College when I was training for ministry there. As a toddler she'd accompanied her mother to work early in the morning, and been taken by Mr Rees across the road and into college for breakfast in the big Refectory with the students "Who spoiled me rotten!" she recalled. This was seven years before my time, but nevertheless a lovely connection with my youth, under the caring eye of a priest and pastor for whom I grew to have the highest regard.

In the afternoon, Clare and I walked to Llandaff for a retired clerics' tea party with Bishop June at Llys Esgob. It was lovely to meet a variety of former colleagues and chat with them in the garden, even if it was occasionally difficult to fit names to faces. Just as we were about to finish, the skies darkened, the temperature dropped and we were treated to a few drops of rain, so we caught the bus back home instead of walking. Well, Clare, with her folding brolly, carried on into town on the bus for a quick piece of shopping, and I returned and cooked supper in time for her return. 

Afterwards I watched another episode of Dicte - Crime Reporter, plus a couple of episodes of a new BBC Wales mystery drama 'Keeping Faith' on iPlayer. Excellent acting with an authentic portrayal of a South Wales family stricken by the husband's sudden disappearance. It's now being screened again on BBC One to critical acclaim. Quite something for two serial dramas made in Wales to be screened in the same season.
  

No change but a change of air

During the night I was conscious of the arrival of high winds, not just from the noise outside, but from a perceptible change of air. That sounds odd, but the coastal plain Cardiff inhabits suffers from polluted air when weeks pass without a breeze. It's got worse in recent years with increased traffic congestion. There are times when I'm returning home from a walk in the park, that there's a noticeable difference between the air out in Llandaff or Pontcanna Fields, and the air along Penhill Road, the penultimate leg, which reeks of diesel fumes from standing traffic. 

Cardiff Council's published pollution maps confirm from monitoring data what a healthy sense of smell detects. We're two hundred yards from Penhill Road and our street is very quiet. The scent of pollution isn't so obvious at home from day to day, but when a strong wind blows, the difference quite marked. I wish we lived in the country or near the sea, though I can't see us moving house again. We just need to get out and away more often, to take the air.

I went to St John's to celebrate the midweek Eucharist this morning but Fr Chris Lee turned up to take the service as well,due to a double booking error. I felt glad to sit with the congregation and worship. The only other times I've been able to do that for a long time have been on a couple of weekend trips to Kenilworth to look after Rhiannon. It's so good to be on the receiving end and be ministered to, and it was lovely to chat with Chris after the service.

Following a brief trip to the bank and to shops I returned home for lunch, and then went out on foot to make a bereavement visit at the west end of Canton Parish. As I wasn't sure of my street destination, I checked on Google Maps, which set me the quickest walking route. This proved misleading when, two third of the way through the journey, I was led into a side street, to get to the main road by a shortcut, whose only exit was closed off with a 'residents only access' security gate. One hears of this happening with sat-nav car directions leading to dead ends on country lanes, but don't expect it in a heavily built up area on a walking route! Anyway, it only delayed me by a few minutes, and then an hour later I was on my way home again.

Kath and Rhiannon had arrived by the time I returned. Kath returns tomorrow as she and Anto work this weekend. Rhiannon will end her half term and 13th birthday week with us. The Clare and I will drive with her back to Kenilworth on Sunday. I'll stay for a couple of nights, and Clare for the week to look after Rhiannon, as Kath and Anto have another busy week of Wriggledance touring gigs in parts of the country where next week is half term, not this one. Such is the life of an artistic family. We're just glad to be able to support them, and have time together with them in between engagements.

After tea we went for a walk down to the river Taff. Rhiannon walked arm in arm with me and told me all about her birthday pizza party the night before. It was heartwarming, despite the powerful chilling effect from the strong north wind sweeping through the region. The evening highlight of was watching 'Death in the Caribbean' on the telly, a rather old fashioned detective story reminiscent of another era. And despite our various efforts, none of us guessed who the murderer was.

No news of the election of a Bishop this evening from Llandaff Cathedral. The electoral college was unable to come to a consensus, nor to a 2/3rds majority vote. Nobody knows why, as participants are bound by an oath of confidentiality. Those outside, anxious for a result to gossip about, fantasise and joke instead in Facebook postings. If we have to choose a new father-in-God, this is I suppose as good if not better than any other ways. Public electoral campaigns are to my mind anathema. Discernment has been entrusted to trustworthy electors, themselves elected to office. When discernment fails everyone is bound to worry somewhat. If the electoral college fails, the Bishops meet and appoint someone. How long we have to wait for this to happen has not yet been announced, as far as I know. Let's hope it happens soon. 

   

Ministry scarcity

A day of cold, wind and rain, with the Mass congregation at St German's somewhat depleted. After, in the hall, a brainstorming session to put together a social programme for the coming year. We've already got an outline plan for Lent, Holy Week and Easter. I shall support them in whatever way I can, until a decision is delivered about future ministry development. Hopefully this situation cannot continue for that much longer. I admire people's determination to continue as best they can despite not knowing what the future holds. This certainly is 'walking in faith', and it reminds me of the same determination I have seen in Nerja and Vinaros, striving to continue as usual in the face of long periods of interregnum.

Addressing the pastoral needs of congregations in different contexts, whilst maintaining an overview of needs in the light of diminishing resources and available ministers is an unenviable task, made much more difficult by church structures which were designed for longevity and stability, less adaptable to changing circumstances. The Church in Wales has suffered major cut-backs in clergy in the past seven years and still struggles to adjust.

Ministry shortages are echoed also across the diocese in Europe. The propagation of new congregations is still happening so the need for ministry grows. It can draw upon the resources and experience of people interested in a different sort of ministry in and around the time of retirement, but it's that much harder to recruit younger clergy with spouses and families that can't re-locate so easily. So, the waiting time to appoint chaplains gets longer. 

Thankfully, among those living now in Europe are Lay Readers and other people used to leading worship or willing to be trained for this. In turn, congregations can find their own members going forward for ordination. Although this can take a long time to nurture and develop, it does illustrate how circumstances of privation can lead to unexpected outcomes. I'd like to think the same can happen here at home in the long term. How we cope in the mean time is what exercises me.

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.
   

Annunciation licensing at Llancarfan

For the second day running, yesterday I had a Eucharist in the morning at Saint Augustine's Penarth, followed by funeral at St David's Ely with burial at Western cemetery. A smaller and humbler affair today. In the evening I drove out to join colleagues and congregation at Llancarfan for the licensing of Fr Derek Belcher as the new priest in charge of three rural parishes, part of the South Vale group, that stretches down to Rhoose on the coast. 

The village was crowded with parked cars, and the beautifully floodlit church was full. Archbishop Barry preached well, reflecting on the power of words, a subject dear to my heart. A somewhat different order of service was used for the occasion, focussing as much on the dedication of God's people to be the church in mission in their local community. It used the 'Seven Sacred Spaces' typology drawing on imagery taken from monastic foundations, quite appropriate in this context, as Llancarfan was one of the early Celtic monastic centres of learning in Wales in the sixth century. This uses seven key places and words associated with them:

The Cell - place of personal Prayer

The Chapel - place of common Worship

The Chapter - place of Decision making

The Cloister - place of Meeting

The Garden - place of Work

The Refectory  - place of Sharing (hospitality)

The Library - place of Study

It's an appealing and commendable way of thinking about the nature of the church, what it is and what it does. It does however leave me with some measure of disquiet. There are at least two other important places in any monastic domain, which say a great deal about the nature of any and every Christian enterprise. The ones of most concern to me are

The Infirmary - place of healing. I think this speaks for itself.

 

The Workshop - where 'laborare est orare' (as St Benedict says), where wood may be fashioned into furniture, clay into pots, iron forged, chemicals refined for other uses, literature printed, icons painted, foodstuffs prepared and preserved, not to mention the digital modern equivalents.

Yes, the Garden is delineated as the place of work. Agriculture/husbandry are both important dimensions of human labour, albeit in partnership with God, who does the hard part, creating the environment and making things grow. Sure we intervene and tweak things creatively to improve productivity, but God gives the increase. The Workshop is a place where things are made from raw materials by human imagination and effort. Not to celebrate this dimension of the life of the church, let alone every individual member playing their part in the current labour market, (however they do that), I believe is a mistake, in a scheme that claims to represent all the endeavours of Christian discipleship.

It was in church, staring us in the face there. Mediaeval frescoes on the south west aisle wall, currently covered in scaffolding while conservation work is carried out on such historic treasures. It's not gardening! In fact, more of an effort to minimise intrusion by elements that could grow on those precious surfaces and further damage their content. That's a special form of creative labour, that might have offered a clue to the importance of presenting 'work' as an expression of what as Christians we're called to value most.

Oh yes, talking of sacred spaces, I didn't mention the kitchen, a sacred space for mission, where transmission of hospitable culture begins with creativity, equal to the role of the refectory in its significance. And what about the cemetery? Place of remembering past dimensions of community, and through its many messages, a place of comfort and reassurance for the future. How can we live and serve as witnesses of Christ, as if we existed without eternal hope?

It doesn't alliterate quite so well, but I'd rather settle for eleven sacred spaces ...

I can see it's more unwieldy to stretch the number of reflection and decision points by another four items, but undervaluing elements of life as disciples of Christ in mission could be misleading, or unintentionally make the enterprise seem less holistic than it is really meant to be.