Blog

  • The unbearable heaviness of hailstones

    Now I know it's possible to take things too personally. And that when we begin to do that, we are assuming that we are the centre of attention, which is a bit self-obsessed. So I'm trying not to take it personally, that when I return from a few days on the East Coast (Crail), I'm just getting out the car in Paisley when the heavens open and malteser size hailstones start bouncing off my unprotected skull. And they fell with volume and venom for several minutes. No wonder Pharaoh hated hailstones- especially if he was bald and no one was areound with a palm leaf umbrella.

    Harbour1
    Anyway, Crail was both fun and fruitful. Some anecdotal evidence:

    walking up the road from the centre of Crail we met an elderly woman pulling her shopping trolley. She liked the sound its wheels made, she said. "Makes it sound like a skateboard and people move out the road."

    Bought a beautiful pottery vase for our wee hoose. The colours, shape, size and the overall Scottish feel to it appealed to both of us so the decison was unanimous. I love unanimity in a marriage – balanced with an equal amount of equanimity about differences.

    Read chunks of the Apostolic Fathers in the new Michael Holmes edition that has the Greek text and the English translation. Just to be clear, I read chunks of the English translation, and occasionally deciphered a Greek sentence or two. But I've liked these early Christian thinkers and writers ever since Maxwell Staniforth's translation was published by Penguin in the 1970's. My aged Penguin was brown, split into looseleaf and recently recycled – so I bought this new edition that matches the format and size of my Greek NT.

    Elie_fife_c
    Discovered at least three good coffee shops, and one where you get home made clootie dumpling with fresh thick cream, which I haven't had with coffee before but will have again – soon! The photo is the clue – after a 7 mile round walk from St Monans, what's a dollop of cream here or there?

    Rediscovered the local practice of the Wednesday half day. As a sabbaticaling visitor I readily approved of the idea that if you have to work on a Saturday (or Sunday), there is a need for compensatory time – and a need to protect it. An incoming resident complained to the butcher that he was shut when she came the day before to buy the victuals for tea. His answer was enigmatic and emphatic 'Aye, but this is Crail". Which had me inwardly seconding the motion, "Aye, so it is".

    Walked several chunks of the Fife Coastal Walk, and apart from the usual ornithological suspects, saw redstarts, linnets, goldfinches, a heron standing like a grey obelisk, and close ups of hunners and hunners of geese strip-mining a recently harvested field.

    Read around John Wesley's theology and especially those theological traditions which most influenced him including the Moravians, the Greek Fathers, the Puritans, and various other contributors to the eclectic mix that makes Wesleyan theology both rich in its diversity and frustratingly elusive for those who insist on theological consistency.

    Spoke with the proprietor of the wee Picture Gallery in Pittenweem, whose wife is a superb painter, and whose daughter is both a primary teacher and a painter in her own right. One of her paintings was beautiful – just what I'd like to have bought and looked at endlessly – but it was too expensive, so I was left to battle with my covetousness. He told us about some of the local artists some of whom are pretty good, and some of the more pretentious ones who see themselves as 'serious' artists. Art is largely a matter of taste, but I do find myself at times baffled by some abstract work which is given a very specific name – and I can't for the life of me get the connection between the name and the picture. Perhaps a conversation of the obtuse with the obtuse. But what a nice man to talk to.

    So – Crail was great, and the break a generous gift – and our thanks to the givers.

  • The Fife Coastal Walk, the Equinox and Psalm 93

    Harbour1
    Going here (to Crail, Fife), to do walking, reading and thinking. Sheila likewise and taking her watercolours too. The weather forecast is "none of this over-rated and boring blue skies with day on day constant sunshine, but as we move towards the equinox there will be high winds, rain and the usual seasonal challenges." Once had a holiday in the East Neuk during the equinox and the seas were mountainous – I love big seas crashing in on the shore. I can well understand how in the Wisdom Literature the image of humanly uncontrollable waves points to the immensity and mystery of God, and makes human beings feel small, relative to the vast dynamic reality of the God whose love and power is imaged in pounding waves. Taking my waterproofs and probably not my Factor 40 sun cream. Taking my wee NT and Psalms as well – and if there are big seas, I'll read Psalm 93 on the shoreline – perhaps as a reminder there is a power greater than all the Market Forces of discredited globalisation!

    1 The LORD reigns, he is robed in majesty;
           the LORD is robed in majesty
           and is armed with strength.
           The world is firmly established;
           it cannot be moved.

     2 Your throne was established long ago;
           you are from all eternity.

     3 The seas have lifted up, O LORD,
           the seas have lifted up their voice;
           the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.

     4 Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
           mightier than the breakers of the sea—
           the LORD on high is mighty.

     5 Your statutes stand firm;
           holiness adorns your house
           for endless days, O LORD.

        

  • Sabbaticaling Continued

     Amongst the sabbatical benefits so far:

    1. a sense of being rested – which is what Sabbath is for; and therefore a regular necessity
    2. a fresh perspective on other important aspects of life beyond immediate vocational responsibilities
    3. a recovering of physical fitness with a regular exercise programme
    4. time with people usually squeezed into odd 'windows of opportunity' – meals, conversation and laughter – kind of what friendship is about.
    5. specific reading keeping up with recent work on Evangelicalism, its own internal critique and history, the ongoing search for definition, the problem of politicisation especially in the US, and that bright elusive butterfly of an agreed evangelical identity. The relationship between Evangelicalism and Fundamentalism is currently under scrutiny and itself raises important issues about Evangelicalism's relation to culture, the nature of biblical authority and the straightforward equation of Evangelicalism and Fundamentalism in the popular mind, often in the writing of journalists, and less excusably in some academic work in sociology and theology.
    6. a range of reading not limited to the funtional but intentionally recreative – this includes poetry of Levertov,Dickinson and the later R S Thomas; Kathleen Norris's Acedia and Me, with some sorties into Desert Spirituality; some of Tom Torrance's later work, Christian Doctrine of God, The Trinitarian Faith,(in preparation for the day conference at the end of the month, and several novels which don't feature on any academic list I can think of!
    7. some jobs done to the house, either by ourselves or organising for them to be done by those who can them properly.
    8. listening to music that is new and old, from Eternal Light by Goodall, to Beethoven's Symphonies (is there anything more wildly manic than the lst movement of the Seventh which one contemporary reviewer explained by the accusation Beethoven was drunk when he composed it), and then Brahms, Mendelssohn, Beethoven and Bruch, violin concertos all of which I've listened to loadsatimes!!
    9. Several periods of longer change and holiday, a week at St Deiniol's, 8 days in Cornwall, and next week mostly at Crail doing amongst other things the Fife Coastal Walk, or parts thereof. A couple more such jaunts are planned, including a still to be arranged pilgrimage to Manchester to commiserate with Sean the Baptist about the amount of sunshine he'll have to get used to in Australia!
    10. Alongside this some preliminary work towards Advent when the later part of this sabbatical will be spent exploring the images of Jesus in art, music, icon and film – in preparation for return to College and a new course, but at this stage an opening up of mind and heart to the unique glory of that grace and truth that dwelt among us.


    Now and again I recall the important disclaimer of A J Heschel probing at the pride that drives our drivenness:

    Hand1
    He who wants to enter the holiness of the day must first lay down the
    profanity of clattering commerce, of being yoked to toil. He must go
    away from the screech of dissonant days, from the nervousness and fury
    of acquisitiveness and the betrayal in embezzling his own life. He must
    say farewell to manual work and learn to understand that the world
    already has been created and will survive without the help of man. Six
    days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth;
    on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in
    the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone
    else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world; on the seventh day
    we try to dominate the self. (Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath)

  • Prayer and the volatile money markets

    Prayer for the current financial situation

    The
    Church of England put a "prayer for the current financial situation" on
    the prayers page of its website and saw traffic increase by almost a
    third. On Friday, it was viewed 8,000 times.

    The
    Rev Simon Butler, a curate at St Giles church in Nottingham, said he
    had seen more young professionals at services since the crisis began.
    "I would guess that some of them would be looking to things of a
    spiritual nature because things of a material nature are looking a bit
    shaky," he said.

    The Prayer

    Lord God, we live in disturbing days:

         across the world,

         prices rise,

         debts increase,

         banks collapse,

         jobs are taken away,

         and fragile security is under threat.

    Loving God, meet us in our fear and hear our prayer:

    be a tower of strength amidst the shifting sands,

    and a light in the darkness;

    help us receive your gift of peace,

    and fix our hearts where true joys are to be found,

    in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

    The link for this was sent to me by a friend and colleague at University of the West of Scotland. You can find it and other interesting stuff here. 

  • Northern Rock on not forgiving its debtors

    "Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors…."

    The news this morning featured Northern Rock – remember, the bank that was nationalised at tax payers expense? Whose debts were forgiven even if the irresponsibility that led to them was unforgiveable?

    LogoNR
    Now we hear that Northern Rock are using aggressive tactics against those struggling to pay their mortgages, that they are inflexible in helping make arrangements for people who want to pay but are struggling, and that Northern Rock is significantly increasing the number of house repossessions as a way of dealing with mortgage debt. This claim was made by Credit Action who are seeing the consequences of this for families ambushed by recent events that the Government itself blames on global factors beyond its own control.


    Apart from the obvious line in the Lord's Prayer, (I prefer the Scottish version of 'forgiving debts' for several reasons) I recall there is a parable in the New Testament about a servant who was forgiven a massive humungous debt, only to be found later beating up on someone who owed him a tiny fraction of what he had been forgiven.
    That parable ended with oppressors being cast into outer darkness, and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

    As a taxpayer, I don't want a Bank that exists because of my money to use money-power against people by defaulting to the repossession of people's homes as the quickest way to realise assets to pay off what is owed to the Government (and me). But what can I do about it?
    I want to think about this, because I have a feeling that as money gets tight, so will the jaws of the vice that holds people's future. (In relation to abuse of money-power, just noticed, "vice" has a double entendre)

    And on a global scale, an even bigger worry, where now the possibility of ending world poverty?

  • Reading Poetry, and Recovering a Sense of Slow

    Quad-col
     Slow reading of poetry is becoming a favourite way of recovering a sense of slow. Some of the most important human experiences require us to take our time, or better, to take the time it takes to listen, see, understand, appreciate, enjoy, allow ourselves to be spoken to from outside ourselves. And the time it takes isn't the time I can spare, but the time it takes for that other voice to speak. So whether that voice is Brahms' Violin Concerto, a tern diving into blue sea, the distant profile of a mountain I climbed years ago, Rublev's Icon of The Trinity above my desk, a sycamore tree aflame with autumn, food lovingly prepared and eaten in friendship, shared silence with the love of our life, or poetry – these are voices that are raoutinely obscured, obliviously silenced by the noise of undeterred preoccupations and the clatter of a life too busy to want to hear them.

    Denise
    Amongst those from whom I am currently re-learning the gift of slow listening, is Denise Levertov. She would have rejected the description of her work as 'Christian' poetry – rather it is the poetry of one who during her life as a poet, came to deep convictions through an inward conversion, expressed in words and ideas recognisably Christian. Not so much Christian poetry as and increasingly recognisably Christian theology giving form and tone to her way of seeing and saying the world. Here are a couple of short poems to read………slowly…..more than once…

    Suspended

    I had grasped God's garment in the void
    but my hand slipped
    on the rich silk of it.
    The 'everlasting arms' my sister loved to remember
    must have upheld my leaden weight
    from falling, even so,
    for though I claw at empty air and feel
    nothing, no embrace,
    I have not plummetted.

    The Avowal (Recalling the 300th Birthday of George Herbert, 1983)


    As swimmers dare

    to lie face to the sky
    and water bears them,
    as hawks rest upon air
    and air sustains them,
    so would I learn to attain
    freefall, and float
    into Creator Spirit's deep embrace,
    knowing no effort earns
    that all-suurounding grace.
  • 1. Texts I Travel With: On Loving God

    Bernhard_von_Clairvaux_(Initiale-B)
    Sometimes I need to hear a voice that doesn't mess about. Spirituality is notoriously hard to define, there's still a big argument about whether it's a subject for academic study in its own right, and often enough, even when limited to Christian Spirituality, the diversity of tradition makes it hard for us even to agree what we are talking about. And maybe we are more comfortable with an unexamined pluralism of ideas, experience and styles of spirituality, than with taking a position in which we speak with clarity and conviction about what is so. At which point Bernard of Clairvaux's astringent words are a shout for silence in this spiritual marketplace dedicated to personal choices, acting like a theological cleansing of those temples we like to build and decorate to our own spiritual specifications:

    So you wish to hear from me
    why and in what way
    God is to be loved.
    Here's my answer:
    The cause of loving God –
    it's God himself.
    And the measure – it's to love
    God without measure.

    Simple really – and such a hard call. Not as easy as I thought, this spirituality stuff! Nobody said anything about absolutes! But then Bernard pre-dates postmodernist sensitivities. Actually, Bernard doesn't go much for any sensitivities that depend on letting us have our cake and eat it. His booklet, On Loving God, is one of a number of Texts I Travel With. And one of its strengths is that it recognises some essentials are precisley that – non-negotiable goals and practices of Chjristian living.

    You can find the text of On Loving God online, here. I prefer to use the Classics of Western Spirituality Edition, edited by G R Evans – I suppose I'll always prefer book to screen.

  • Anxiety levels and doing the Good Samaritan thing!

    Vangogh56
    So the Priest and the Levite passed by on the other side. And ever since we have assumed those two patron saints of the Don't Get Personally Involved Society, represent the way people other than oursleves might react to a man lying hurt on the road.
    The Good Samaritan, however, is the one we imagine ourselves to be, faced with a similar incident.

    Yesterday on the way to church I came to the junction with Glasgow Road and as I checked the traffic to my right, 20 metres away, lying in the middle of the road, holding a bunch of pink balloons, was a young black man. Cars were passing by on the outside lane; that piece of road is on a hill and at a bend, and is where speed limits are routinely ignored. I didn't know if he had been hit, or was ill, or drunk or what – but what was obvious was his life was in serious danger. None of the cars were for stopping; several walkers on the other side of the road looked curiously but kept walking.

    I left the car, ran towards him, waving to traffic to stop or slow down, and when I reached him he was lying looking vacantly at the sky, till I spoke. He focused his eyes, and it became clear he was returning from a party and had decided he needed to sleep. I pulled him up, he stumbled to the pavement, asked where he was, said he needed to get to Glasgow. Refused a lift, made it clear he didn't want company, was clearly disoriented but determined to go, and so he made his uncertain way back along Glasgow Road. I watched for a while till he was safely out of sight, and then went to church.

    I still wonder if he made it. If I should have called the police. If it was drink or drugs that had rendered him not only helpless, but life threateningly careless. I sat in church wondering, and worrying. Which raises the interesting question about that Good Samaritan parable. If you have compassion, if you care, if you get involved, it isn't just the use of your donkey and the settling of someone else's expenses; the care itself has some cost attached to it. Worry for the other, even if that other is someone you've never seen before and might never see again, is the inbuilt cost of compassion.I have the uncomfortable feeling I should have done more but don't know what. Now if I'd taken my normal route and gone down our street instead of up the street – I'd never have seen him and saved myself unnecessary worry. Hmmmmm – not sure about that. Hope he's OK though.

  • Uox Faz – feline linguistics

    uox faz
    if you're wondering what that means, it's the result of Gizmo padding
    across my keyboard on his way to the kitchen to demand, require, insist
    on being fed. Ever since he spent a week in the cattery during our
    recebt Cornwall holiday he's been acting like a spoilt feline, alternating between
    sychophantic purring and feed me now caterwauling. So I suppose "uox
    faz" might be feline-speak for
    "ban sabbaticals and or holidays".

                            “Uox Faz” –

    Feline Haiku for Humans Slow
    on the Uptake

     

    Walk circumspectly

    across the keyboard, touching

    just the right keys.

    …….

    Ban sabbaticals!

    when feeders and cuddlers
    just

    abandon their cat!

    …….

    "uox faz!" also means,

    in feline complaint language,

    "Please Stop Stravaigin!”

     

  • Surrounded by a cloud of great witnesses: Mrs Jeanette Simpson, (nee Rigley), 1914 – 2008.

    Williamlll300
     I heard yesterday of the death of a special friend who has been part of my life journey since 1967. As a teenager whose life was all over the place I encountered the Rev Charlie Simpson. The result was my first raid into Carluke Baptist Church where I met several remarkable people. And maybe with their permission I'll tell you about them, and why they are landmarks in my own faith journey. One of them was Mrs Simpson, "the minister's wife". Jeanette Simpson and her husband Charlie took an immediate interest in me, despite my unenviable reputation in the town as a teenager. When I was converted on April 16, 1967 it was Charlie Simpson who spoke with me, prayed with me and led me to Christ. And amongst those from whom I learned the significance of hospitality, and I mean welcome into heart as well as home, was Nettie Simpson.

    Down through the years of responding to God's call to ministry, my training, and my ordination and induction to my first church in Partick, Mr and Mrs Simpson (I never called either of them by their first names when I spoke with them- then or till now) they were supportive, encouraging and wise guides. When in 1979 Charlie died suddenly, aged 56, I conducted his funeral service, and we have remained close friends of Nettie all these years. Amongst my treasures are some of Charlie's books, including most of my P T Forsyth collection – something else I owe to these two wonderful people.

    And so on Tuesday I will conduct Mrs Simpson's funeral, for me an act of gratitude, love and admiration, as well as pastoral care and support for her family. Nettie's time as a minister's wife coincided with a time of narrow exclusiveness in relation to the ministry of women in our churches in Scotland. But I would want to say that the two of them were God's gift to the church, and their ministry of spiritual nurture, open hospitality and willingly borne inconvenience, gave me time and space to grow into the reality of the decision I made. And I have never thought of them as anything other than ministers of God, whose love and understanding made the grace of God credible to me. 

    How can we ever second guess God? Or know where the road of our life together takes unexpected turns? That night, in a small vestry, on my knees, saying yes to Jesus and to a different future. And beside me the man who was my first spiritual director, and the one who baptised me – and in due course, this young upstart would become a minister, and take the funeral service for him, and thirty years later for his wife. I look on these two people as amongst those whose faith in me has give substance and reality to what I believe about the generous and persistent love of God, who believes in us and redeems us to the depths of our being.

    I thank my God for every remembrance of them……