An old friend's passing

I had an email this morning from the Bishop's Chaplain announcing the death of Fr Graham Francis, a good friend and colleague since we were at St Mike's together over fifty years ago. He's lived with an inoperable stomach cancer for several years, continuing with life as best he could with his strength and mobility slowly waning away, without giving up on performing any priestly activity he remained capable of. We were together con-celebrating the Sung Mass at St Saviour's a month ago. I wondered then if it would be the last occasion. Even so, Eleri and I agreed that we'd meet up for coffee again as a foursome early in this New Year, but it wasn't to be. He died late yesterday night

He was admitted to Holm Towers on New Year's Eve, and visited there by family and colleagues. Two priests he worked with closely over many years were at his bedside, along with family members in his last hours, saying the Rosary and Litany of the Saints to send him on his way, which would be exactly how he would have wanted things to be. As the commendatio animae was recited he slipped quietly away.

It was a good, peaceful Catholic death for a priest and pastor who adhered to traditionalist spirituality and convictions without compromise. He believed he could remain an Anglican Catholic as long as the integrity of traditional and liberal modern thinking were respected in the church of his birth. He was respectful of women clergy from whom he felt unable to take Communion, and gracious when working with them as colleagues. He was a committed ecumenist who practised ecumenism within the Anglican fold as well as with other denominations. Not only that, he was a mine of information about the history of church congregations old and new which existed in the city and further afield.

He will be best remembered for his encyclopaedic knowledge of every kind of liturgy, tradition and custom which has its place in the Catholic Church. He had a huge collection of liturgical books pamphlets and texts of every kind, collected since he was a teenager, a unique specialist library of material, for which, as I understand it sadly, no home has yet been found. His involvement in both liturgical revision and liturgical renewal in practice has exerted a positive widespread influence in the Church in Wales and further afield. For him tradition was a living dynamic affair, not just clinging to old fixed ways, but engaging pastorally and adapting to every social and cultural context without ever needing to compromise the truth of orthodox Christian doctrine. He understood that tradition is 'the life of the Holy Spirit in the church', and exemplified this in his ministry. He will be missed, but for those who remember how things once were, his legacy in the way sacraments are celebrated in many ordinary parishes is unmissable and lasting. May he rest in peace and rise in glory!

Clare's colleague Jacquie came to lunch today. She and Clare walked with me in the park afterwards, but left me to complete my usual longer stretch. Today I wore my new trainers, and these were fine for about the first five miles, and then the ball of my right foot began to hurt. I had to stop to rest it and stretch my ankle when I reached Blackweir bridge, and decided to walk as much of the remaining route as I could on the grass. To my surprise, after walking only a few yards, the pain disappeared and didn't return. This suggests that some of the bones in my foot are slightly out of alignment, but this only shows up when I walk over a certain distance, moving slightly awkwardly. My right leg suffers inevitably from the presence of the wound in the right side of my perineum. The knocks the whole of my body out of alignment. It's something I have to think a lot about and compensate for, including the occasional osteo-myologist visit.

Pueblo rendezvous

Late this afternoon I made the hour long walk on back lanes up to Mojácar Pueblo past citrous grenadine and fig trees in orchards at the foot of the hill on which the pueblo is perched. The aroma is enchanting. I had a rendezvous with Don Miguel, the Parish Priest to make arrangements for the bi-lingual ecumenical service of Nine Lessons and Carols, scheduled for the first Monday of Advent, just after I leave. It's an event that's happened here for over twenty years, and is popular with locals and expats alike.

When I arrived at the church. he was sitting at the front, with a small group of women, playing the guitar and singing in a lovely tenor voice. Then the women sang something they knew, and discussed a little, as if they were working on a common song repertoire. I wondered what they were preparing for. Eventually he summoned me to join him in the sacristy, and then we worked on confirming the order of service and which language the readings would be in.

Don Miguel spoke a little English but was happy to let me work with him in Spanish, putting up with my faults and vocabulary lapses. It was a delightful experience with much laughter, plus the pleasure of being on the job with a ministerial colleague, and although the uphill climb had been quite taxing, I felt I had a spring in my step on the return journey.

Clare flies back to the UK from Arizona tonight. I was glad to catch her and Kath briefly on Skype before they set out for the airport, and wish them godspeed before the ten hour flight and then four hour trips back to Cardiff and Kenilworth. They've had a wonderful two weeks with Rachel and Jasmine. It'll be reassuring to have them back within a few hours flying time.

   

Election aftermath

Last night was probably the coldest I've experienced in Spain this year, although I don't suppose the temperature dropped below twelve degrees. I woke up several times, and couldn't resist a quick check on the American Presidential election commentary, and as proceedings developed it was harder to get back to sleep. I ended up hunting for another blanket as I wasn't conserving heat, after reaching for a phone or tablet on which I could listen to BBC news. By dawn, it was clear that there was going to be a major upset, not predicted by the polls, unexpected, as with the Brexit vote. 

The only early indication of Trump's victory came from a tech' blog commentator on Wired.com, pointing out that traffic analysts had noticed Twitter and other social media platforms were getting a disproportionately high volume of Trump favoured input, reflecting the same trend observed during the campaign. Trump seemed to be constantly in the news spotlight for his outrageous remarks, as social media would be the first place reporters would look for material to write about. 

Social media distributes and promotes information and disinformation, facilitating discussion outside the range of news media intelligence trawls and it happens much faster than news media can deliver. Trump's media strategists and activists contributed to his victory, and got people out to vote who had abstained or never voted before. Perhaps something similar was happening in the Brexit campaign, that wasn't adequately taken into account by those who thought they were going to win, and even took by surprise those who weren't sure they'd win. Only those who are really marketing savvy would notice the trend, from their own experience of commercial brand promotion.

So, America has been sold Trump, as it might have been sold soap, or a Caribbean time-share. Across the world his victory has evoked nervous reactions. Everyone is wondering how much of his blustering rhetoric he meant, and which outrageous statements if any, he will translate into policies affecting the lives of billions, and potentially the fate of the planet and humankind, if he disregards the latest climate change treaties, or is willing to use nuclear weapons as more than a deterrent threat. 

From Trump's victory speech, he has adopted a more dignified conciliatory posture, appealing for all parties to unify around his presidential leadership for patriotic motives. Obama and Hilary Clinton also made suitably dignified and patriotic noises of support for the presidency. A time honoured ritual, yet the exceptional toxicity of the campaign, undermined confidence in both main candidates. 

It's clear Trump won't have high popularity ratings as President, but no matter what he achieves, will he be trusted or respected? The media onslaught has exposed all the ills and weaknesses of the American political system. The ensuing loss of innocence cannot be ignored or hidden. In America, as in the UK, we are entering uncertain times. Navigating through whatever happens next when the collective moral compass has been trashed and tossed aside, is a real cause for concern.

I emerged from the house mid-morning and went for a walk, to get away from the radio and internet. A broken night's sleep made me feel like I had a hangover, despite several alcohol free days. It's hard to take it all in, hard to know how to pray about these affairs. Living with change and interpreting change from a faith perspective, is what I've been doing for most of my ministry. At my time of life that's about all I can do. Brexit, this election and all that accompanied both, however, represent what gets called 'disruption' these days, an unexpected and radical shift in the process of change itself. It challenges and shakes up our thinking in a way that is bewildering. Where do we go from here? 

After lunch I had a call from Alwyn asking if I could contact Mojacar's parish priest Fr Manuel and check he has the date for this year's bi-lingual ecumenical service of lessons and carols in his diary. I checked what I thought was the right thing to say with Google Translate, and called him. I was so pleased that he understood me and that I understood his affirmative response. Daily language drills using the DuoLingo Android app help greatly to anchor vocabulary and sentence formation in my memory, but what I most need is full time exposure to life in a Spanish speaking family and community. Having to speak French most days in Geneva did wonders for learning achievement. I need the same opportunity here in Spain!

In an effort to shut the news out of my head for a little longer, I went out for another walk at tea time, but only as far as the rio Aguas, and then circumnavigated the inland lagoon (if that's what this stretch of inland watercourse is rightly called) on the beach side. I got some photos of the first of the Egrets returning to roost, and several of warblers, though figuring out which kind of warbler, is another matter. I think there are several in this stretch of wetland. A very satisfying sort of distraction, before the sun slipped away behind Mojacar Pueblo and the Sierra Cabrera through an array of tinted dark clouds.

         

Orthodox memories

I celebrated the Eucharist in honour of Saints Simon and Jude for the Wednesday congregation at St German's this morning. No school class present as it's half term this week. It aroused memories for me of starting work in the St Paul's Area in Bristol as Team Rector of St Agnes and St Simon with St Werburgh this autumn, forty years ago. This day was one specially observed in the Parish, as the benefice in post war years had absorbed the neighbouring parish of St Simon and there were still a few St Simon's people attending St Agnes. The redundant church had been given to Bristol's Greek Orthodox community, and I'd discovered this in my first year as a University student, as part of my ecumenical education. The impression made on me by taking part in the Liturgy of St John Chrysostom for the first time was profound and lasting, a landmark moment in my spiritual journey. 

At that service I met Fr Nicholas Behr, newly ordained Russian Orthodox Deacon, just arrived in the city with a mission to grow a congregation among groups of Slavic speaking exiles. We became friends and over subsequent years the conversations we had about our different kinds of Christian tradition showed me how much I'd actually absorbed about Anglican Christianity, from attending church and listening to full content sermons from a priest who really cared. All part of my journey towards ordination.

Within years Fr Nicholas had acquired a church across the street from the University refectory and had grown a Russian Orthodox church congregation, which now has a couple of dozen nationalities among its members. The Greek church flourishes too, having survived the almost total devastation of its neighbourhood, due to the creation of a motorway junction right next to it. With its local parish population decimated, only an eclectic linguistic minority group was in a position to keep it open. The church spire lost its weather-vane and top section in the late eighties and was capped, giving it a distinctive profile in the town-scape, just south of the Ashley Road junction.

I rarely went to the Greek Church, even for social purposes, after I became Vicar, but I kept in touch with Fr. Nicholas and occasionally attended services and sang in his English liturgy choir. Once, I persuaded him to celebrate Vespers in St Agnes as part of our Unity Week observances. We had good relations with local Roman Catholics and local Methodists were partners with us in an Ecumencial Area of Experiment, as it was then called. We also had several afro-caribbean Christian groups in the area, and St Agnes occasionally offered them hospitality, also a tiny group of Latvian Lutherans, a legacy of wartime exiles in the city. It was a time of rich ecumenical and inter-faith experiences that was the richest of my entire ministry.

Holy Wednesday - Passover Supper & Parish Procession

Midweek Eucharist at St Andrew's this morning, just nine of us. There wasn't a coffee morning to follow, because of it being Holy Week, so I was able to join the family for coffee and then spend an hour in the sun with them on the beach, about as much as I could take without feeling scorched all over. For these few days I'm in self protect mode to make sure I get through my duties unhindered. I returned to the house for lunch and wrote tomorrow's sermon, then at six, as the family were returning from town, I set out to walk to the Lux Mundi centre, in a side street near the Plaza de España at the other end of town, taking me the best part of an hour.

I'd been invited there to participate in a Christian version of the Passover Seder supper, using the Jewish prayers and rituals together with mainly Johannine passages from the Gospels. It didn't want the hassle of car parking. Everywhere was bound be congested and busy as later on, it would be Los Boliches cofradia's turn to process through the streets with its images of Jesús Cautivo and Nuestra Señora de Dolores - our Lady of Sorrows. Just walking there on busy streets was a challenge to maintain a pace, as there were so many people out and about, enjoying the evening.

I arrived in good time, and was amazed to find that ninety people were sitting down for supper. It was a truly ecumenical occasion, with representatives of all the Scandinavian, Dutch and German chaplaincies as well as a dozen Anglicans present, many of them centre volunteers.

The liturgy booklet was nicely printed in Spanish and English - I was told that only ten of the ninety were native Spanish speakers anyway, so most of it was done in English, with the exception of several passages of scripture and psalms. I had the pleasure of sitting next to the Jesuit priest who is the Lux Mundi pastor, with the new Swedish pastor, the Norwegian and Scottish pastors sitting opposite (in the photo above). Mind you I had to sing for my supper, given the role of the father of the household, explaining the meaning to the youngest son - a lad from the Calahonda congregation whose grandpa Fr David Wright is a retired priest and former chaplain. It was a truly lovely experience. We ate delicious paschal lamb with rice and almonds.

I walked back as briskly as I could, and heard the distant sounds of processional bands playing on the move. I had a text message to say that the family had all descended into the barrio and were eating supper in a restaurant on the route. I'd forgotten my camera, so I had to walk home to collect it. It was ten by the time I got back and I was tired enough to give in and take the car back down the hill, but parking, even in the car park where the church has privileges, was impossible. After circulating the vicinity for ten minutes I found a doubtful place in a back street, and rushed in the direction from which I could hear music and drums. I caught up with the second procession of Nuestra Señora as it was about the cross under the railway viaduct to go down to the avenida de los Boliches.

The trono had to pass beneath a five metre high girder. When shoulder mounted it's about six metres high. The hombres de trono gently lowered it on to its supports and dragged it under, to an enthusiastic round of applause from the surrounding crowd. I'd noticed on my visit to the casa hermanidad that these particular tronos stood not on stilts but on large wheels, like on large mobile scaffolds. Now I understood why.

Then, I doubled back up the road to the barrio Parish Church of Our Lady and Sta Fe, to make contact with the first procession of Jesús Cautivo. The leading processional cross had just arrived in the church plaza and the rest of the procession was strung out down the avenida de los Boliches for half a kilometre.

It meant I had time to wander back along the street and take more of the photos I'd hoped for.

Finally satisfied, I went in search of my car, hoping not to have a late night parking ticket, and return home, feeling pretty tired after walking the best part of ten miles today. On my way back up the hill, I finally caught up with the family and was able to taxi them the last kilometre of the day. You can see the photos I took here. 

Ecumenical perspective

This afternoon, our good friend Mike Buck from Bristol University days came to stay overnight, before driving back to Scotland, after a holiday walking week based in Lampeter. It was lovely to catch up and reminisce, as we hadn't met face to face in twenty years. Mike came to Birmingham University when I was Chaplain, to do a post-graduate course, then he moved to a job in Bristol. He settled in Montpellier on the edge of the St Paul's Area, and started attending St Agnes Parish Church. He called us to say that the Parish was enduring a lengthy interregnum and jokingly asked if we  might be interested in a Team Ministry with an ecumenical dimension. At that time I was thinking of moving on, made a few inquiries of the Bishop of Bristol, and within a month or so, had been sent to Downing Street to visit the Lord Chancellor's Ecclesiastical Patronage secretary, whose office was a top floor room in Number Ten in the days of Harold Wilson's government. I was the ninth candidate, and the only one not to turn down the challenge of the job. 

I was just thirty, with hardly enough experience to lead a team and work effectively in urban mission, but the challenge seemed irresistible. It proved a rewarding educational experience of urban mission influencing everything I did thereafter. Mike was living in the Parish. He was on the PCC and churchwarden for a while. Ecumenism worked as long as team members (Anglican and Methodist) were young and liberal minded, but it slowly stagnated when they were replaced with older conservative clergy, unwilling to modify perceptions and expectations of what team work entailed. It's easy to be philosophical with hindsight, but it was frustrating and disappointing at the time. For Mike, a great ecumenical enthusiast, it was deeply disillusioning. He moved eventually to work as librarian for Christian Aid in London, and felt displaced by the metropolitan Anglican conservatism (of all churchmanships) he encountered there. In the end, he found contentment and a spiritual home in the post Vatican II contemplative renewal emerging in parts of the Roman Church. An evangelical among Papists, he now struggles with the neo-conservative trend of his church under Ratzinger rule. His comment on the Ordinariat was: "I went to Rome to get away from that sort of Anglicanism!"

Thirty to forty years ago there was much enthusiasm for the prospects of reconciliation between the churches leading to eventual organic union. It was a well intended vision, but I wasn't ever sure that a monolithic organisation was capable of doing justice to the cultural and religious diversity of world wide Christianity - which more resembles an organism which mutates as it propagates than it resembles an organisation which can be replicated. What was needed, I thought, was effective joint action issuing from better communication and resource sharing between Christian denominations.

Some effective instruments to achieve this has been achieved in areas like social justice, peace-making, reconciliation, aid for under-developed countries, and even in common prayer and worship. But in areas of lifestyle, values, personal ethics, authority and relationships, there are still major disagreements - some are embedded in the denominational institutions inherited from past history, others reflect the continued divide between liberal and conservative impulses which cut across denominations. This means living together with differences, by those united in confessing  allegiance to God in Christ Jesus, is still far from universally achieved.