Movie weekend

Neither Clare nor I felt like doing much yesterday. Only later when clouds parted and gave us a few hours of afternoon sun did I venture out to take some photos of autumnal trees on Llandaff Fields. Mild weather has produced a lovely array of colours, and now that leaves are actually starting to fall, the contrast of gold and brown on the still bright green grass is just lovely to behold.

This morning after a good night's sleep, thanks to the extra hour, with the clocks going back, I returned to St John's Danescourt and Christchurch Radyr for their main Eucharists, with a baptism during and another one after the latter service. It's several years since I last baptized anyone, and an event I enjoy. But when I look into some closed hard faces when I greet visitors before or after the service it's clear they've accepted the invite more out of good-will to the child's parents than any appreciation for the value of the ceremony. The same can be true of the guests at weddings and funerals too. It's difficult to retain an open and welcoming attitude to them when the devil inside me wants to pipe up and say: "Why on earth have you come here with a look like that on your face?" Truth to tell, church is for many occasional visitors an embarrassing place to be, for a host of different reasons, and it's an unending challenge to deal with this.

Before the second baptism, I needed a rest with a drink and chocolate biscuit to sustain me, as I was starting to flag - feeling my age? Or did I fail to eat as much breakfast as I really needed, to keep me sharp? I was fine by the time I'd finished and on my way home, and didn't spend all the rest of the afternoon dozing. I went out again with my camera to Thompson's Park to enjoy the even earlier sunset. Photos are here.

It was something of a weekend for crime drama, with another double episode of the Arne Dahl series last night, with something of a post Cold War legacy crime theme with an ending worthy of spy thriller. Tonight, as Clare wanted to watch 'Downton Abbey' and I didn't, I made use of the FilmOnTV website on my Asus Transformer to view the last of four episodes of BBC's One's 'From Darkness', which I found altogether disappointingly slow. Cut out all the agonising slow facial closups and the whole story could have been better compressed into two hour episodes. 

The digital TV box I had in the Nerja chaplain's house ran the same FilmOnTV streaming service. It's only recently I realise that it could provide an alternative means of viewing when there are scheduling clashes of interest here at home. After this, I chanced upon a late showing of 'False Trail', a detective movie set in rural Northern Sweden, starring Rolf Lassgard, the first actor to portray Wallender, as another detective. The plot centred around the ability of an insane, corrupt policeman to fabricate a web of lies around a murder he'd committed. I didn't mind it being slow to unravel as there were subtitles to grapple with. The scenes of autumnal and winter forests aroused in me a strong desire to visit that part of the world, up near the Arctic Circle one of these days.

  

 

Unwelcome news

My old friend and colleague Jenny Wigley was on Canon's duty in the Cathedral this morning, so I took services for her in St John's Danescourt and Christchurch Radyr. I've been to both of them often enough over the past few years to know and be known by a good few people in both congregations, and this makes it an enjoyable experience. 

After the second service, I talked with David Suthers of Radyr Community Council about the impact on West Cardiff of a series of housing estates soon to add several thousand new dwellings to sites around Radyr and Pentyrch. There are no plans to improve main roads into town, nor to add public transport infrastructure. Already, since the expansion of Radyr housing along the upper plain of the river Taff, there's been a marked increase in traffic congestion in Llandaff. It's now one of the most polluted areas of Cardiff. Proposals to develop a cross-city metro line have not been pursued, despite the need already obvious to commuters. Is nobody interested in this kind of investment? Improving quality of life and environment is generally economically beneficial as well.

Not long after I returned from church, there was a phone call from Ann to say that brother in law Eddie had taken a turn for the worse and she was going immediately to the hospital. By the time she arrived, he'd died peacefully, in the company of a couple of nurses. Just twelve days after his open heart surgery to repair an aortic aneurism. We were aware of the uncertainty of recovery after such a high risk rescue operation, taking things a step at a time, but this came as shock after a brief spell of optimism. The rest of the day was spent contacting family and friends to tell them, waiting for the painful impact to make itself felt, and praying for the repose of his soul. 

May he rest in peace.

 

Holy Week - the first half

There was an hilarious April Fool prank on the Diocese in Europe Website this morning. An item about a new EC directive on standardisation of candle sizes to comply with Health and Safety requirements in European churches. It's worth a look. You'll find it here

This week my locum ministry duties lie in the familiar territory of Tongwynlais and Taff's Well. Fortunately, a new priest has already been appointed, Zoe King, moving from the far west of the diocese, but she won't arrive until June. Under the new strategic ministry plan for the diocese this parish is grouped with Radyr, Pentyrch and Groesfaen. It's a suburban district of Cardiff adjacent to the M4 corridor that will see a lot more fresh housing development in the next decade, but which is unlikely to get more than the present number of three clergy when it would be best served by double that number.

Already the existing clergy are starting plan and work together with the future in mind. For the first three days of Holy Week the have invited the congregations of the three Parishes to come together for an evening service in a place of worship belonging to each one in turn. As locum priest, they invited me to join them, taking a turn in preaching, leading worship and sitting in the congregation on the receiving end.

As none of these services were planned as Eucharists, I took myself to Llandaff Cathedral three mornings running for the 9.30am Eucharist, each celebrated by a retired colleague. The numbers attending varied between a dozen and twenty, also mostly retired people. Each of the three evenings there's another Eucharist with address, and I would imagine, no shortage of people to attend. Cathedral attendances are rising here, as in other parts of Britain.

On Monday evening, it rained and there was a very blustery wind for Evening Prayer at St John's Danescourt, yet there were twenty people present. The sound of the wind roaring intermittently through the trees in the churchyard outside sounded like that of waves breaking on the sea shore.

On Tuesday the weather was bright and sunny all day. I drove out to St David's Groesfaen for Compline and Address, graced by the setting sun streaming in through plain glass nave windows in this delightful country church. This time there were three dozen people present.

Tonight we were in St Michael's Tongwynlais for Evening Prayer at the same hour. Quite apart from the return of clouds and light rain, the position of the village at the entrance to the Taff Gorge means that dusk arrived earlier than it did at Groesfaen. Even so, twenty eight people were present. All three occasions, I'd say, were occasions of enouragement, both for the Jenny and Mike, the clergy and to their congregations. Both of them preached very well indeed, and I much enjoyed being on the receiving end.

This morning, Clare had the stitches removed from her wounds, all very healthy and neat. Six days since the operation, and I see progress in her every day. On the way back from the surgery we called into the Apothecary's shop on Llandaff Road, to seek out a herbal remedy to help her dispel side effects of anaesthesia. We returned home with several bags of herbs, seeds and berries for boiling up into a strange tasting concoction to drink. These things have a way of being quite efficaceous, so long as you have the right mixture. No harm in trying it out I guess.

Tracking Santa at peak time

Yesterday morning I finalised sermons for Midnight Mass and Christmas Day services. In the afternoon, I helped Clare with last minute preparations, while Kath and Rachel drove to Newbury to collect Jasmine from her Dad. Anto returned from Kenilworth, Owain came over, and we all sat down to supper together. Rhiannon and Jasmine were so thrilled and excited to be together for Christmas. 

We had some fun visiting the NORAD Santa tracking site but as the evening progressed our TalkTalk internet connection slowed down with global traffic congestion to the point where it became unusable. It's not supposed to happen but it does. The big service providers promote the virtue of faster connectivity, always at a price. That's not unreasonable for it provides extra heavy duty capacity for shifting audio and video files quickly, if this is considered necessary by a user.  

Billions of internet enabled devices are in use at any time, and when the world goes into leisure or crisis management mode, there are bound to be peaks of demand to access particular sites, no matter how much cloud capacity gets expanded. In the physical world, motorways are fine until lots of people are on the move at the same time, converging on particular destination. Having a faster car or bigger lorry makes no difference to the existence of congestion hot-spots. So who do the promoters of faster internet think they are kidding? There's always a gap between the ideal and the reality.

By eight the girls were in bed, and by eight thirty I was on my way out to join former colleague Jenny Wigley for the Midnight Masses at St John's Danescourt and Christchurch Radyr. I preached at both and celebrated as well at Christchurch. There were three dozen at St John's and around ninety at Christchurch at eleven. It doesn't seem long since I was there for Holy Week. 

Driving between churches, I started remembering last year's unique Christmas Eve in Taormina, with a praesepio (nativity scene) in half the shop windows along the town's main street. Then I started thinking about the Andalusian Belen scenes I'd seen just before I returned home from Spain at the beginning of this month. By the time the second service started I decided not to repeat my sermon, but to ad lib a reflection around these experiences instead. I'm always nervous about going on too long or losing my thread, but on this occasion, the outcome was more satisfying than just repeating my earlier effort. By one o'clock, I was home again, enjoying half a glass of Rioja and a slice of cheese in a very calm and quiet household before going to bed.

The little ones were awake at four, and finally up opening their stockings at half six. Clare and I got up at a quarter to eight - she to start cooking Christmas lunch and I to get ready to leave for my nine thirty service at All Saints' Llandaff North. There were fifteen of us there and no organist, so I led unaccompanied singing, and wonderfully, the sun shone in to brighten a chilly church. It was great to be home again just after ten thirty and free of duties for the rest of the day. It meant that I could be kitchen slave and help in various ways to get the Christmas dinner on the table punctually.

It was a great meal, meticulously masterminded by Clare with help from Kath and Rachel in preparation, and Owain in carving and serving. Rhiannon and Jasmine decorated the table. We stretched the eating over several hours taking a break, after the main course and a red wine and cheese interlude, for a short entertainment called 'Red Santa' devised by Rhiannon to introduce the exchange of presents. Then we returned for the pudding, pies and a second round of cheeses with a sweet white wine. A wonderful happy family affair for which I thank God and all the participants.

   

Good Friday night out

Up to Radyr with 'Becca for a ten o'clock start this morning, for a short youth service at Christchurch, then a walk of witness down to the Methodist Church, where we were joined by the congregation there at the end of their service for a prayers around the cross in the public garden opposite the church. It was bitterly cold, and waiting for the rendezvous wasn't much fun, but when the brief prayers were over we went into the Methodist church hall for tea and hot cross buns. I met Aled Edwards, General Secretary of Cytun, who was worshipping with the Methodists this morning and we chatted for a while, then I went home, feeling in need of some quiet solitude before my afternoon preachment. Clare was just on her way out for the service with Bishop David at St John's Canton, so I had the place to myself.

Jenny, 'Becca and I shared the conduct of Good Friday Liturgy between us, with three dozen people in attendance. After I'd preached, 'Becca read a poetic meditation on the Cross she'd written. It was one of the first reflections she sent me after she started in College. I remembered how personally honest it had been, and was delighted she agreed to read it in a service. I felt it fitted well with the conclusion of what I had preached about. It was a fitting introduction to venerating the cross, which we then processed in with. For 'Becca this was an all-new experience. There are few occasions over forty five years when I haven't been at this liturgy and venerated the cross. It means a great deal to me.

Owain came over for an early supper, and then we went together to the Millennium Centre to watch a dance event which brought together sixteen Shaolin monks and a contemporary dance in an east-west fusion performance called 'Sutra', a Sadlers Wells production. 

Everything about it was truly amazing - the use of seventeen huge two metre tall wooden boxes as props constantly moved around on stage and used as a theatrical framework for executing a host of high speed athletic feats. They certainly deserve their reputation for being 'flying monks', they jump so spectacularly high. Many components of the movements performed I recognised from Tai Chi and Chi Gung, although delivered in the dynamic fashion of martial arts.

It was a wonderful spiritual offering from a group of calm focussed recollected young men emptied of egotism, connected to each other so tightly that their movement gave the impression of an active swarm of bees. It was moving and uplifting to watch and I loved the music by Szymon Brzoska. 

There were moments in the performance when the boxes were laid out horizontally and piled up in a four by four array, each occupied by a still performer, suggesting a funerary columbarium of the catacombs . Echoes of the Saviour's death and burial are never far away on this most holy day.
   

Portable pilgrimage

Tuesday
In the morning, I went into town to the CBS office this morning for an important meeting, then came home mid afternoon to continue preaching preparation. I collected 'Becca from College at seven and we went out to Christchurch Radyr together for Evening Prayer, which she conducted, and I preached. It's just as well I offered to preach in the Parish this week, as Jenny has a chest cold and is on the verge of losing her voice. The extremely cold weather doesn't help, with many extra services to conduct. She has two funerals this week in addition to nine other services before Sunday. Also, Chris her NSM curate, is loaned to Caerau with Ely, to cover services during Fr Jesse's sick leave - a lot of extra pressure.

Wednesday
I collected 'Becca at nine and we made the same journey to Christchurch for a Eucharist, which I celebrated and she preached, circulating an image displayed on her iPad for the congregation to look at while she spoke about it. Only one person managed to swipe the picture off the screen. Using technology live with a congregation is as risky as performing with children and dogs! I sent my apologies to College for the afternoon Strategy Forum meeting. I needed more time to work on my preaching material. In the evening I collected 'Becca from College again and we went to St John's Danescourt where this time I preached and she led Evening Prayer. The full Paschal moon was just visible through a haze of cloud above the car park, as we left for home.

Maundy Thursday
Although still bitterly cold, there was sunshine streaming in to St John's Danescourt for the celebration of the Eucharist at nine thirty. Jenny decided not to attend the Cathedral Chrism Mass, and stayed on home ground in an effort to conserve energy, assisting as I celebrated and preached. For once, although I'd brought a sermon with me, I decided to improvise, and enjoyed doing so. 

I went into town for a few hours, then returned for supper, picked up 'Becca to drive to Christchurch for the evening's Sung Eucharist at which I preached. Jenny, 'Becca and I stripped the altars at the end. It was a first time experience for 'Becca. Then we went to St John's Danescourt where we kept silent vigil together with others for half an hour, before leaving. This time the Paschal moon slipped in and out of broken cloud, as if it struggled to assert its presence in the moody darkness of this first Triduum day's end: 'Judas took the bread and departed. It was night.'

I love Holy week. Its scripture readings never fail to move me, as they evoke memories of key moments in my journey of faith since teenage years. It's a pilgrimage I can make wherever I find myself, whether alone with a Bible and Prayer Book, or in the company of others, whether it's half a dozen or thousands, giving out or on the receiving end, no matter where I may find myself in the world. I can only be grateful for this.

Holy Week in Radyr

I had a cheering  meeting this morning in College with Chris Bowler a member of last year's tutor group. He's now an assistant Curate in a rural Radnorshire borderland parish. He comes to Cardiff occasionally to visit the library, as he's keen to continue studying. It's satisfying to see a former student enjoying his new life and work up country.

After lunch we had a two and a half hour staff meeting, discussing the Bishops Vision Statement on ministry and mission, as part of the preparation for comprehensive course development in the light of the forthcoming College review. The grand plan is to have a modular training programme whose components can be used for lay training as well as all stages of preparation for ordained ministry, and in service training. Fortunately it won't all have to be put into place in one go, but can be grown according to need and opportunity. It'll be quite a challenge to move from grand plan to detailed design, given that all involved in vocational guidance, selection and training programmes across the six diocese will have an interest in shaping the outcome.

After supper I drove out to St John's Danescourt to give my first Holy Week address to a dozen people at Evensong, led by Jenny Wigley, my former parish colleague. St John's is lovely small thirteenth century church with an ancient churchyard around it containing a thousand year old yew tree. Until forty years ago it was set in open countryside with just a farmhouse for neighbour. Now the farmhouse is a pub next to several small shops, all sitting at the centre of a very large housing estate - all part of the post-war expansion of Cardiff. Tomorrow night, the same again at Christ Church, up in the village with its mix of older early 20th century suburban mansions and artisan dwellings. Such a refreshing change after many weeks of being focussed largely on College life.