Tale of two Jameses

Yesterday, I spent most of the day relaxing indoors, avoiding the sun and writing a couple of reports I needed to get done. I even made a start on next Sunday's sermon. Strange how some days my mind seems to be active and productive, when the heat makes me want to slow right down and do little.

It was gone six when I made myself go out for a walk around the port, and was compensated for the effort by the Transmediterraneo ferry 'Sorolla' from Melilla entering port and executing the precise manoeuvre in tight spaces which it turns it round to present its stern to the quay for docking and the unloading of vehicles and passengers. It's the first time I've watched any big vessel enter port and doing this. Annoyingly, I walked out without my camera, but a few snapshots would not have done it justice. A video or time-lapse would be better.

Today was the same, although I was reading rather than writing most of the time. I'm tackling a big paperback by expert Dead Sea Scrolls scholar Robert Eisenmann on James the brother of Jesus. It's material I've entirely missed out on, presenting a forensic literary analysis of biblical and other ancient near Eastern texts from that era, as well as the Scrolls, demonstrating the relationship between them and his subject material. It's an attempt to reconstruct the story of the first century Jerusalem church when it was led by James the Elder, writer of the New Testament Epistle.

It's very detailed reading, with complex arguments based, it seems to me as much on what is unsaid, or removed from a text, or changed, as much as what is actually stated. It's a literary method that to my mind resembles that of a criminal profiler, looking for patterns to interpret. I have a long way to go with this book. The worst thing is its physical size and weight. It's heavier than my Chromebook and not pleasant to hold for a long period of time. I won't be taking it home, but leaving it here, and seeing if I can borrow a copy to read when I return.

Today is however, St James' Day - the other St James, one of the twelve Apostles. When I ventured out around six, I walked through the tunnel to the nearby barrio de Santiago, to see if there was any festive activity at the church. Sure enough, the place was open, and preparations were being made for the singing of Latin Vespers of the Feast by a Gregorian choir, with Mass to follow. I sat in the church, meditated, and enjoyed the quiet hustle and bustle of the place during the hour I had to wait.

There were eight choir-men, one accompanied on keyboard another conducted. All wore black shirt and trousers. Each wore a minimal scapular with a symbol on the front of it, to denote their role. It's too hot for any fuller form of vesture. Six clergy concelebrated the Mass which followed. The one who presided at Vespers also presided at Mass, exchanging his red cope for a chasuble. The MC and altar servers were all adults, and not in any kind of liturgical vesture. 

We were treated to a homily, which I mostly understood. The president spoke of the importance of Santiago de Compostella in the hispanic soul, of pilgrimage, simplification of life, fellowship, solidarity and peace. About a hundred people were seated on the pews in the nave, and another sixty on chairs either side of the sanctuary, and another forty odd scattered around the aisles or standing at the back. Two hundred people, of all ages, on a weeknight evening. 

It was impressive, and uplifting, especially when it came to singing the Missa de Angelis, which many worshippers know enough of to join in with the choir, and best of all the paschaltide 'Alleluia', which everyone seems to know and joined in with. I could just about recite the Lord's Prayer in Latin for Vespers, but still haven't managed in in Spanish. I'm also stuck on reciting the Apostles Creed in either language. This seems to be used more than the Nicene Creed these days at Masses I have attended. Apart from being conveniently shorter, I wonder if there's a reason for this.

   

Repair days

Tuesday afternoon we had a visit from a craftsman who specialises in the installation and repair of built-in shutters and window blinds, as several in the apartment no longer work. It was a good opportunity to make my Spanish work, while looking up technical words and phrases I didn't know. We had a big laugh when we discovered that the reason for the shutter in the main lounge not to work was the removal of its guide rails, and concreting over of the containing channel at the time when double glazing was fitted to the window, years ago. A historic instance of communications breakdown for this to have been done, and never noticed.

The other problem shutters were all fixable, although showing signs of their age. The man worked solidly for an hour to put them right, then cheerily went on his way, setting us free to walk to the Old Town for a visit to the Picasso Museum. Interestingly, this time we were offered pensioner discount tickets. This didn't happen when I went with Owain, perhaps because I didn't take my hat off to reveal my white hair.

On the way there, we passed Santiago Parish Church, where Picasso was baptized, and it was open, post-siesta, so we were able to look inside. It's said to be the first church to be built in 1490 after Malaga's reconquest. Its tower and west facade reflect the Andalusian mudéjar architectural style, but the rest of the building is renaissance gothic. I took a photo of the famous font, but was annoyed to discover later that it was slightly out of focus. Very unusual for my HX50. I probably didn't give it enough time to adjust to lighting condition.

This morning, we celebrated the memory of St Benedict (a day late) at the midweek Eucharist, just three of us present. Afterwards I re-parked the car away from its usual place, as building contractors are due any time this week to bring in their equipment and start work on repairing terrace walls in the cemetery, and construct new columbaria, for future interments of cremated remains. This will in effect make the small parking area on the north side of the church unusable due to contractor's equipment, but also potentially make it impossible for cars to park around the church in future. 

This is a cause of great concern, as many regulars travel great distances by car to attend worship. If they had to use public parking, this would involve several hundred metres of a walk and the last stretch steeply uphill, quite a difficulty for older churchgoers. It seems as if some elements of this plan have not been well thought through by the Fundacion which now manages the cemetery as an historic asset of the city. Archdeacon Geoff and Bishop David have been trying to engage those in authority to discuss these matters, but so far communication is not proving easy. It's not so much a matter of language difficulties as difference in perception of the part the churchyard plays in the life of a worshipping congregation.

This is a besetting problem for many churches which have ancient churchyards. They are both a big liability to maintain, but also a social, historical, cultural and spiritual resource as well as outdoor meeting place for the community, a tourism venue. Many church people fail to see the value of their 'church plant', to recall a very sixties phrase describing parochial assets, rather than starting a new mission congregation. Relationships with people are given such dominant priority that the physical social environment is under-valued. Perhaps we have simply failed in our teaching about Christian stewardship, or in helping people understand that there a practical consequences to having an incarnational spirituality. It's easy for me to be wise after the event. 

Managing buildings and land are huge worries for parish clergy, so necessary, but so difficult if few people can be bothered to take proper responsibility for them. I must say that in all my incumbency jobs, I was blessed with people who did care. It didn't mean that I never had to do any care-taking, but it could have been so much worse.

After the Eucharist, we walked into the Old Town and visited La Casa Invisible for a delightful menu del dia alumerzo. Then we visited the Cathedral, spent half an hour looking around, and paid five euros each for the privilege. You don't have to pay if you arrive in the half hour before the evening Mass, as I have several times. Then, as we were making our way home for siesta, I had a call to say we could expect to receive a visit within half an hour from the MAPFRE insurance company repair team to re-tile the bathroom floor and wall, broken into for pipe repairs Saturday last. Fortunately, we got back just ten minutes ahead of them. In two and a half hours, they were on their way home, job done, place left clean and tidy. Splendidly efficient.

We were then free to go down the beach for Clare's daily swim before supper. It hasn't been a very hot day today, but it has been humid, leaving you feeling as if you had a fever. I don't know how anyone can labour physically in heat like this, let alone sleep at night.