Way of the Cross

I didn't sleep very well, but woke up to a mild sunny spring day. My first assignment was to lead Stations of the Cross at St German's.  Before I started, I posted to WhatsApp the YouTube link for the service at St John's at noon. There were only ten of us present. There was no time to stop for coffee and hot cross buns afterwards, as I needed to take the car home and then walk to St John's in good time. 

I borrowed the Zambian crucifix from the sacristy to place on the altar for the St John's noon service, and had to carry it in a large bag for life down to the church. I had to wear my cassock as I couldn't carry it along with the crucifix. The shops were open but the streets weren't busy. I don't suppose anyone noticed me looking a bit conspicuous on the half mile walk to church. There were ten of us for the service, which wasn't without mishaps. 

I took the hymn numbers from an early edition of the hymnal in use, none of which matched the real numbers. Monica the organist didn't mention it, and I only realised it after sowing confusion among the congregation. Andrew, Martin and Monica read their assigned parts well, and all of us would have been more audible if the radio microphone had batteries in it. Apparently it's been like that for three weeks. Nobody feels responsible for practical details of running the service - the stage management side of the traditional church warden role - now abolished in the creation of Ministry Areas, but needing re-invention. 

Clergy taking services have more than enough to think about. It's important that lay people look after all the necessary supporting details of running worship, not just the flowers and refreshments at the end. The trouble is, the imposition of Ministry Areas has in effect dis-empowered them. Now they need motivating and encouraging to attend to the detail all over again. It is troubling to see congregations so diminished.

After the service, I went home to deposit the borrowed crucifix and my cassock, and then walked over yo St Luke's for the Liturgy of the Passion at two o'clock. There were twenty of us present, and three choir members sang the reproaches and Psalm 22. Surprisingly Mother Frances read the entire Passion, without additional voices, just congregational crowd responses. It's often the case that readers for the passion get roped in when they arrive for the service, and everyone makes the effort to ensure it works unrehearsed. St Luke's isn't short of good readers. No sermon this afternoon, and no sermon last night from Fr Stewart. What happened? Why these changes? Is the church now so busy trying to reorganise itself to cope with decline that interpreting the Word of God is being neglected?

When I got home, I ate a very late lunch, kept by Clare for me. As I relaxed, began to feel very tired and slept for an hour. The past week has been quite demanding, with all the video editing hassles. although I haven't had to preach or take services, as I have done previously in Holy Week. I've not been lacking in energy or concentration, but in common with many others post-covid, I've had to work with a fuzzy head as my body works at discharging the remnants of covid infection. Good sleep seems essential.

There are preparations I need to make for tomorrow and for next week, but tonight I was in no mood for work, and spent the evening watching dreary telly. Perhaps I sould have gone to bed very early instead.        

Cardiif Christmas story

Late last night I started working on my own e-greeting Christmas card to send out with out annual round robin letter, when a newsy email arrived with a photo of a Nativity scene which caught my attention and ended up being used to complete the greeting. 

The email was from Sally Jumble Jackson, the dynamo behind the Cardiff Nativity story initiative, a  pageant put on by a group of volunteers she recruited. It started the year I retired. St John's City Parish Church was asked to host an event in which children from schools around the city would visit the church to see this happening with an all adult cast of presenters dressed in traditional biblical garb throughout Advent. A hugely ambitious and seemingly impossible project to realise, but not one which St John's could make space for given the demands made to use the church for institutional carol services and charity concerts in December. 

Fortunately Tabernacl Baptist church just down the street on the Hayes was able to offer hospitality, and each year for the past decade it has been a huge success, drawing thousands of children and catalysing similar events in churches across the region. This year it's not been possible for a repeat performance to take place, but with a wonderful spark of imagination, a half life size puppet show version has been staged and toured around schools, at times when covid safety restrictions have been imposed. It's an inspired piece of creative thinking, and very much a grass roots creative initiative by Christian lay folk.

Sally's motivation at the outset arose from realising how little the bible is taught in schools today, and how ignorant of the Christmas story the majority of children not raised in Christian families are, even if the schools put on a Nativity Play, which few do anyway, giving multicultural secularity as an excuse for tackling something 'too hard' to achieve in a pressured curriculum, even at Primary level. 

It's been a grey damp day. I've started on putting together the Christmas cards and letters for posting and I still have to make a start on sending the digital equivalents, but no progress has been made today. I had a funeral this morning at St John's, my first in church during the covid era. The distancing arrangements work well there as the seating is flexible. Though I asked people to leave by the west door and not follow the coffin out of the north door, the congregation was on auto-pilot and did what they habitually do. I had to drive the car to church first and then up to Western Cemetery for the burial. 

Being a bit nervous about this and wanting to be at church early, I walked out of the house with neither of my phones and without a face mask. Fortunately one of the funeral directors had a couple of spares in his car, which saved having to send out the a nearby shop to get one. And all this because it was raining. It meant I had to revert to wearing a raincoat from wearing my old ski jacket (oddly it was also six degrees warmer than yesterday) and my masks were in the coat I was wearing yesterday, not the raincoat. I was rather annoyed with myself, but pleased, given how little driving I have done in the past year, at how comfortable it is to sit in the car without a support cushion these days than it has been at any time in the past two years. That's progress. 

It rained in the cemetery, and I was loaned a big golf style umbrella in purple with Pidgeon's the funeral directors name running around the rim. Stylish colour to go with an alb! One of the cemetery attendants told me was on holiday in Benidorm when the estadio de alarma was pronounced. The tour company did well to rearrange home flights pronto, his tour group's main hassle was getting a coach willing to take them to Alicante airport with roadblocks in place, and at that early stage lots of enforcement action on the autovia. I guess right at the start, permits paperwork and an inspection regime were only just being introduced, enough to make any commercial driver nervous indeed. But they got home OK, and he came back to his sad job of course, as a key public sector worker.

By the time I had lunch the rain stopped, for long enough to allow me to complete my afternoon walk in the park before it started again. After supper I spent a couple of hours weeding out redundant emails to increase my Google free space available, rather than pay for more storage. Then I watched the second in the 'Nordic Murders' series before writing this and turning in for the night.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi

This evening, Clare and I walked to Llandaff Cathedral for the Solemn Mass of St David's Day. Six lay clerks sang Byrd's three part Mass, so the although the service was mainly in English, we also had a little Greek, some Latin and some Welsh! We greatly enjoyed sitting up in the choir, I had Fr Mark sitting next to me in his new Canon Precentor's choir stall. It was lovely to see him and catch up with him after the service.  

Clouds, rain and sunshine today, more like April than March, after a run of clear skies and sunshine you'd be pleased to have at the end of April. The seasonal weather patterns we are used to are not as predictable as they used to be, thanks to global warming. I am amazed that there seem to be so many people in influential positions who remain skeptical about the evidence. The brexit deadline date is now four weeks away. Already the UK economy is suffering the impact of unpredictability because the decision making is so late and so chaotic in nature. Most economic forecasts about its impact are gloomy, and yet this isn't persuading euro-skeptics to change their mind or their commitment to see this through. It a matter of beliefs and perceptions of the world we live in, regardless of facts.

G K Chesterton said "When a man stops believing in God he doesn't then believe in nothing, he believes anything." It's something I see reflected in the past decades of the ascendancy of secular post modern post-Christian thinking. Everyone thinks and does what is right in his own eyes. Personal opinion trumps unifying corporate consensus and common commitment. Alliances may be possible with others who think like us, but are quickly broken by any difference of opinion which threatens personal ideas. Parliamentary chaos at this present time reflects what permeates society and culture. 

Chesterton's belief in God was rooted in his sense of orthodox Catholic moral order and worldview, a perspective which permits skepticism and deep criticism of alternative philosophies, ideologies and beliefs. It's tragic that the church's critical voice is being disregarded by the majority these days. So much moral authority has been lost by keeping quiet, cozying up to corrupt and evil regimes, failing to confront injustice, and ignoring the abusive behaviour of people in positions of trust and authority in church leadership as well. Doing the opposite its demanding, uncomfortable and costly, and while individuals are willing to sacrifice themselves to do the truth they find at the heart of Christian faith, sacrifice by the body of the church for the sake of the same truth - is less than evident. This weakens that moral and spiritual authority which once bound believers together into a faith community, so they have drifted away, and joined the ranks of those believing anything else except the inherited tradition of faith.

I've thought a lot recently about why church hierarchs of different denominations have attempted to avoid dealing firmly and decisively with abusers who have been entrusted with pastoral care and responsibility, apart from the difficulties entailed in ensuring just process for those accused, and protecting victims and vulnerable people, apart from sheer ignorance and incompetence in handing exceptional matters with discipline and discretion. Dealing in confidence with abusive clergy, with no accountability for what disciplinary measures were taken, if any, then sending them on to work elsewhere with their past record hidden under the Seal, seems irresponsible to say the least. What drives such a conspiracy of silence on the part of church leadership may be more basic even than damage to the reputation of the church.

In an era of substantial decline in the number of ministers to serve even a declining constituency of believers, the fear of barring abusive clergy from public ministry for being a risk to those they serve imposes an even greater burden of ministry those who remain faithful and true. The fear is that with no pastors to bind the faithful together into a community with a sense of purpose and mission, the church will collapse and die in places where it is weak and vulnerable. It's not a decision to be taken lightly. When it's being faced by leaders at the top without consulting those who will be affected by any decision made, it exposes what is wrong with the way hierarchy is exercised in the mainstream traditional churches.

Since Vatican II lay ministry has developed vigorously in many parts of the Catholic church, world-wide, and in other hierarchical churches. Evangelical and Pentecostal churches have also sprung up and flourished from predominantly lay ministry. Pastoral care and nurture becomes more of a mutual endeavour than from the top downwards. What has always been at stake since the Reformation is the right kind of relationships between church leadership and members. This changes as society itself changes. We're still adapting, still learning what this means for our era. 

Communities concealing and not dealing with personal or communal violence within their membership or leadership are frightened to tackle deep ailments in the Body. And that has fatal consequences. Are churches now ready and willing to learn and act fearlessly to make healing possible? We shall see. It's shameful that it's taken the long arm of secular law enforcement to shed light upon this matter.

If Dewi Sant was with us today, in a gathering of the faithful, would he be recognisable before he stepped out of the crowd to proclaim the world. I don't think that Celtic Christians were devoted to wearing status garments borrowed by ancient Western church leaders from civil society. I don't think that Celtic monks adopted wearing monastic habits either, no matter how often religious art portrays it anachronistically. I'd like to think you could work out who he was in a group, as he'd be the one who would listen more than he spoke, answered when asked, and always with a warm smile.

    

   

Sunday surprise and delight

There's a lot to be said for medication packs which print the day of the week to be taken on the foil cover of each pill. Not all prescription medicines bought in bulk offer this, as it's more costly to print this information trivium. This morning, I came to the end of one pack of blood pressure pills, then retrieved another pack from storage, and absent mindedly took a second dose after extracting the long multi-lingual information sheet to consign to the bin. 

Yes, I know, it's Sunday. I don't have trouble remembering which day of the week it is. Occasionally, I may omit the pill for the day, or maybe end up taking it twelve hours later than usual. I don't think I've ever before taken a double dose. The medication information sheet, hastily retrieved by Clare from the bin, spoke of contacting hospital emergency services if you overdose. Oh no! Not more hours waiting to be officially told I don't need pumping out. I can, after all, take my own blood pressure readings and act if it plummets catastrophically. As it is in any case, higher than the GPs consider desirable currently, I decided it's not worth the fuss.

As I was checking my blood pressure after breakfast, finding it was within the acceptable range, the doorbell rang. It was Reverend Emma's husband Nick, asking if I could cover the St Catherine's Eucharist at ten thirty. Naturally, I agreed, and immediately set about preparing a sermon. Well, I had to raid my Year C archive, and edit/update a used text. Often, Advent Three, of not Four is a Sunday when a Sunday School Nativity Play is performed in the service, instead of a sermon, so I didn't have many to choose from in files committed to the Cloud since returning to the UK in 2002. The one I adapted  for today was fifteen years ago!

Mid-Advent is a time for ordinations, and Advent 3 aka Gaudete Sunday has ministry as the theme running through it. I was delighted that the choir sang 'Gaudete, Christus natus est as their anthem of the day. We used to get a Bishop's Advent letter for today about ministry and vocations to read out or issue but the occasion for this moved, even though the Collect for the day hasn't. I can't remember where it's been relocated in the Calendar, I'd have to look it up. Fifteen years ago, reflecting on the teachings of John the Baptist from today's Gospel led me to consider not ordained ministry, but the ministry towards post millennials seeking baptism and confirmation, unfolding not only through Alpha and Cursillo programmes, but also the European New Catechumenate movement.

Later standing at the Communion rail, a couple of dozen Sunday School children came up for a blessing along with half a dozen adults who also bowed their heads for a blessing, either because they weren't confirmed or maybe not baptized. In times past, parents would quite likely stay seated at the back and send their kids up for a blessing, if they came into church at all. The Benefice has worked hard on nurturing its Messy Church and Sunday School projects, and it's lovely to see that parental participation is one of the fruits. What I preached about seems as relevant now as it was back in 2003. What else can we do I wonder, to enable these adults to engage and grow in faith?

Early evening I returned to St Catherine's for the service of Lessons and Carols by Candlelight with Sunday School Nativity tableau as part of it. There was an augmented choir, which sang a number of modern carols using poems I didn't know that caught my attention. There were over a hundred and fifty present altogether. The choir and sanctuary are decked out with potted red poinsettias as well as a Christmas tree for the festive season, making it look homely and welcoming. The children, nearly all under sevens, were charming. Baby Jesus didn't stay in the manger for long as one of the toddlers wandered us and extracted him for a cuddle, not to be easily parted with by low lying adults, keen to avoid howls of annoyance. This happened more than once. Everybody smiles. It's a live instance of 'Godly Play' after all.
   

Looking to the future

Just after breakfast, my phone pinged notifying me of an email from my home surgery in Pontcanna confirming an appointment with Dr Jordan a week after my return. If needs be I can change it with a 'book on the day' alternative. Clare had been there already, to hand in the surgical report and my accompanying letter. The new booking system is working amazingly well.

Although the weather has been sunny and a little warmer, I didn't venture out today, except for the Tuesday afternoon bible study in church with the same handful of faithful people, always keen to explore and ask questions. Following from Sunday's gospel about defilement coming from within, I found myself fielding questions about spiritual ailments and the nature of the demonic, and the need to resist the impulse to take revenge and seek retribution. We also explored the difference between a decision based on Judgement and on Discernment. 

As always with this particular group, we returned to the question of what should we do to make St John's more alive and attractive to newcomers? It's not just a matter of concern because of a period of decline. The life of the church is valued and seen as worth sharing. But how can opportunities be recognised and acted upon? How to discern God's moment? I pointed out that asking the right kind of questions and exploring together through study and prayer was essential. Praying together outside the liturgy, it was admitted, didn't come easily for many. It has to be shown and taught, after all. 

Much emphasis is placed in ministerial leadership today, on good management and communication skills, and helping congregations develop SMART mission plans with a clear sense of purpose, and even vision statements! I've done all this kind of stuff in the past, and am not sure really what it was worth in the development of congregations I cared for. In fact, I'm not sure how faithful this is to apostolic teaching as expressed in the Acts of the Apostles. Prayer, proclamation of the Gospel, openness too and responsiveness to the promptings of the Spirit, and discernment in an ever changing situation are, to my mind, the key themes. Talking about Vision - i.e. what you see, isn't nearly as good as seeing then acting. 

In Acts, there's plenty of spontaneity, and unplanned action. It all seems haphazard and messy, yet it turns out to be fruitful, even the setbacks encountered in mission. If any of the apostles were potential managers, it must have given them a crisis of confidence to have to respond to the promptings of the Spirit. Administration is certainly one of the gifts of the Spirit, but one among a variety of ministries of the spirit, and not the most dominant.  Discernment of the gifts of the Spirit which are there in a church community must be done together, through reflection and prayer. It takes time, this kind of 'seeing'.

I hope that the appointment of a permanent chaplain, to start in January, but whose name is not yet made public, will help. They will need to ask, maybe even pester their new priest about learning to pray together in different ways. It's not easy to admit, even though St Paul himself admitted "We don't know how to pray as we ought." All I can do is encourage them to be bold in asking.

Unexpected judgement

Yesterday was wet and windy all day and into the night. In the afternoon we went over to Bristol to visit Amanda and James for a few hours, and watched the final episode of 'Young Montalbano' in the evening. As ever it was beautifully crafted with fine acting and a teasingly complex story to keep track of. It was also very moving, as our hero sets about leaving his beloved Sicily to live in Genova with Livia, his lovely bride to be. It's such a struggle for him to let go of his work and his partners in solving crime. Sicily and its people substitute for the birth mother he lost in childhood. 

Then, just as he is about to leave, anti-Mafia prosecuting magistrate Giovanni Falconi is assassinated on his way from Palermo airport. It was a real watershed event for Sicily and all Italians, in real life, back in 1992, and the impact of this was well portrayed as Montalbano found himself driving around empty streets in fictional Vigata, empty because everyone was indoors glued to TV newscasts, just as the whole world was, during the 11th September attacks in 2001. It awakened memories for me of that hot afternoon in our Monte Carlo parsonage, when I idly switched on the news and couldn't tear myself away for hours. The story ends with Montalbano phoning Livia, and here say, despite herself, "You must stay." How often events external to our lives act to change our destinies, in fact as well as fiction.

The sun pushed its way through the clouds this morning, quite appropriate for Transfiguration Sunday in the Church in Wales Calendar. Before Mass began at St German's, Hamid told us his asylum appeal had been refused. He seemed less concerned about this than we did. Being forced to go home carries all sorts of risks to his safety, now he can be identified as a convert, but he'd get to see his wife and sons again after five years, despite this. 

After the service he showed us a lengthy document explaining the judgement issued. It contained factual errors, and some expressions of the judge's opinion, which to my mind, revealed an insufficient knowledge of evangelisation as an enterprise all Christians are involved in, not just authorised church representatives. Hamid's journey into Christian faith, was shaped by a number of encounters with lay people, some of them sustained. They helped him understand the message of the bible, and commit himself. This has been discounted, as justification for his conversion. He is officially regarded as insubstantial, insincere and unreliable in his motives for seeking asylum. 

I'm far from happy about this, though whether any of the deficiencies in the opinion expressed contradict points of law is not for me to judge. There will be a further appeal, I believe, and I will do whatever I can to ensure the process is better informed. 

The rain returned after lunch, making the prospect of a walk uncongenial, so I continued working on my preparations for this year's daily Lent blog on prayer, which will go live with in introduction on Shrove Tuesday.
  

Providing for rites of passage

At the end of the morning, I was collected and taken to Thornhill Crematorium to officiate at a funeral - my seventh in the Easter season. The fact that I've been asked to do this so often says a great deal about the diminishing availability of overburdened parish clergy for duties of this kind. What troubles me greatly is that churches seem to be making no effort to address the issue. 

Whether it's social convention being maintained by funeral companies, or a genuine desire on the part of bereaved families to call upon the pastoral services of a minister of religion to officiate at a funeral doesn't matter. One way or another, a need remains for families and communities to make their farewells to someone who has died with an appropriate rite of passage. Even if the majority have little connection with organised religion, it's a religious celebrant who's entrusted to occupy the role in most cases. It's not a role requiring a priest to perform. Any lay person can fulfill the role, if they are entrusted to act by the bereaved family with the support of funeral companies. Some Parishes and congregations make use of their lay preachers, though there are never enough personnel available in times of need. 

What needs to be developed hereabouts is a specialised lay ministry like the French Catholic church has created in the past quarter century. Pastorally gifted people are trained in bereavement counselling, and in the arranging and performance of funeral liturgies. As the number of active clergy in France is a small fraction of what it needs to be to meet the pastoral needs of even a minority church in a secular state, a lay ministry of this kind is a key element of the church's continuing missionary engagement in society. France makes a lot of ideological noise about being a secular state, but functionally speaking, Britain is no less un-religious. Yet, religious rites of passage, for better or worse, still occupy a significant social  role in our way of life. So why not put some effort into sharing the pastoral burden by training those who are willing to take on this role?