I kept on meaning to post, but Christmas overcame.  There was barely enough time to work, to rehearse, to attend the end of the Alpha course, housegroups, the Christmas and carol services, visits and get-togethers with friends we've barely seen all year, our anniversary (spent on Dartmoor), work, run my daughter around.... and the 3-day-stretch over Christmas itself (from the Sunday to Tuesday) was like a marathon.  And all the compressed time was despite deciding on a very low-key Christmas.

The vicar, of course, had it even worse with all the additional services held in the church.  And with an ill verger more had to be taken up by others, many of whom have full time jobs or, like him, have other work as well. 

But why do we make Christmas so busy?  Sure, from a Christian perspective the incarnation is a fairly important moment, but Easter much more so.  For others, of course, it's a midwinter festival once more, a time to have fun amidst a very dull season.  And for others, perhaps it gets mixed in with Yule and the midwinter solstice, both ancient celebrations in their own light.  The theme, of course, is light from darkness: the days become longer once more, light and life returns.  Which is why it makes such a good moment to celebrate the coming of the Christian Light, the Word into our lives.

But the word was always there, as John 1.1 says (various similar translations): "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.  Through him all things came to be."  It's only now, and at Epiphany, that we actually noticed.  So if he's' always been there, why does it have to be so busy?  Why do we have to run ourselves ragged?

...this time in taking, running and organising funerals. The Anglican church insists (quite rightly) on ensuring that all those who feel their ministry should include funerals and care for the bereaved take further training. It's an option, not part of the Reader/LLM core training. The actual course is in early February, but I arranged to shadow an undertakers for a day. It was an absorbing experience.

You get pensive, I guess, going in to something like this. Sure, we've all been to funerals, but few of us know what happens behind the scenes. So I couldn't help but be a little apprehensive, so asked Him to calm my nerves. The greeting friendily, welcoming. After being shown round and given some insights into what went on, I accompanied them out to a funeral to see things from their viewpoint. The staff - all of them - were very open, frank, and extremely helpful, talking through everything, making sure I was aware of what they were doing. And the overriding impressions?

Care. And waiting.

There's a lot of waiting, in the cold and wet. If I ever get to be involved in church design I will make sure that there is a waiting room for funeral staff. The concern - hmmm. Funerals are such potentially emotionally charged situations that we've surrounded them with all sorts of social mannerisms. The undertakers try to minimise any upset, to make sure nothing goes wrong, to try and minimise outside elements affecting the funeral. The grief, of course, is left to those who need to grieve, but much of what the staff do is to minimise what they are doing from affecting the mourners. Hence the signs of respect towards the coffin; the careful co-ordination; hence the clean cars; hence the dress code. Yes, it's all formalised ritual outside of religion, but I've come away being less critical of its exagerrated airs.

There is a lot of work involved in a funeral - 40+ hours work behind the scenes typically, as well as what you see. Of course, there's transport to wherever the nearest cemetery's or crematoria are, often out of town now the older ones are closed. And the coffins are needed, and part-time staff, and embalmers, permanent office staff to talk to customers, extra staff to handle the funerals... I may have had some questions over funeral costs before, but I'm less inclined to question it now.

( I guess something everyone wonders about is undertaker's humour. Is it dark or morbid? Is there any at all? And I have to say, with some relief, that yes, humour exists in an undertakers. But it is ordinary office humour, all outside of the consulting rooms, morgue and viewing rooms. Not once did I see or hear any hint of jokes made at the expense of the deceased or customers. And even those I met from outside the company who didn't know what I was doing acted in the same way. That's a comforting impression.)

Overall, I was impressed with the firm I went to see. Not necessarily for their professionalism - which is something you have to expect from firms operating in this sensitive area - but in their commitment to and concern for their customers, the close relatives of those who've died. Not just from a monetary sense - the undertakers I dealt with are very aware of not boosting the costs of a funeral - but also from a personal sense, in the way they deal with the bereaved, and in the care they consistently demonstrated.

There's more, of course, and I was pleased to hear that they'd prefer our handling of death to be incorporated more into life, and not cut off quite so much. The company I was with tried to encourage the grieving children in the funerary process, perhaps as part of their mourning. When we lose someone we love, we grieve; young and old, family or friend, we can't help but feel a loss and, I think, we all need to express it in some way. It brings back memories of not being allowed to attend a funeral when I was young, of someone who wasn't a close family friend but who, nonetheless, cared for me whilst I was in hospital, with a 50/50 chance of living. Regrets are still there over not being able to say "goodbye". The encouragement for involvement is needed...

An incredibly useful and, in many ways, humbling day.

Our band leader was away, so there was more pressure on decent keyboards this Sunday. As I'm only getting back into keyboards again afte ra long absence, I felt very nervous. We ended up sharing the lead, I think, with a powerful lead singer, who was excellent, and a wonderful show of support by everyone else in the band, who turned up irrespective of their normal days to ensure we had a strong presence.
--------------
But even as I write news comes in of a friend of us both who has just died in hospital. Though he'd had Parkinsons for years, he remained patient with those trying to talk with him, and will be remembered for his humour, even when he had to repeat the joke several times to be understood. It's that patience I respect, I think: numerous times I had to ask for him to repeat what he'd said as I couldn't understand due to the background noise*. And he did so. Admirable, indeed. Could I keep up that patience?

He will be missed. Faith leads me to the hope that, as Paul suggested, he is now enjoying his 'spiritual body', with God (1 Cor 15.44).

* Yes, background noise stuffs my hearing up frequently.

...and I was asked to preach. It's known to be a sensitive day, and time is spent on it during the training courses, but it's a little nerve-wracking to actually do so. And our church is where the civic services are held, too, wit the town's war memorial in the grounds outside. Though the Remembrance 'bit' was outside, and the normal service was moved forward half an hour (that caught some people!), there would still be an overlap of congregation from one to the other. So the congregation may well be different, especially with so many active and retired service personnel around here, which means I'm not sure what might be offensive. And I'd prefer not to deliberately offend as it masks the message that might come.

The problem is that there are so many different, conflicting views on Remembrance, some clearly stating the civic ceremony shouldn't be anything part of the church. On one side there is the view that Remembrance Day glorifies war, that it elevates those who have died into something else, that Remembrance Day should be used to condemn war and promote peace absolutely, even at the cost of Remembrance. Interestingly, I've never heard the extreme contrary viewpoint that it should be used to glorify war, but there are many who view it as absolutely key - not just those who survived the major wars, either.

OK, let's be straight. I really dislike war. I don't think you can justify armed conflict that kills and causes pain and distress. The whole 'swords into ploughshares' and 'spears into sickles' thing* works absolutely fine for me as a wonderful hope, a marvellous vision compressed into a pair of succinct soundbites. I long for the day when it happens. But can any unilateral disarmament really occur? And what abou tthose who are alrady unarmed but are facing aggression? Who is going to protect those who cannot protect themselves? Can we justify standing back and letting the horrors we've all seen be inflicted on thousands and thousands of innocents continue? (shrugs confusedly, caught in a trap) I guess everyone has to answer those question themselves, but in the words of Rowan Williams 'peace is a matter more complex and interesting than we might suppose'**.

And there's the pragmatic, everyday paradox of peace: right now, in the world as it is, a truce is needed in which the peacemakers can preach peace. Yes, we can all practice being peacemakers, but I'm not sure we can do so without accepting that, right now, the truce in which peace can be preached has been bought - is still being bought- with the lives and of a great many servicemen (and police, and firemen, and...).

The lessons of war are really difficult to learn, it seems, and we're still learning. Peace? War? Truce?

But, to me, all that's overloading Remembrance Day. Remembrance is about people, above all, those who died and their families, as well as those who didn't, but who mourn those ripped from them. Yes, it refers to a cost, about how they died, but it is, still, about remembering the lives of individuals, part of God's' family, and how they were taken from us. I sometimes feel it may not be a popular view, but I cannot help but think that we have to get back to them. We shall - we must - remember them whilst we work for peace in our everyday lives.

*Isaiah 2 and Micah 4.
** 'The Truce of God', Rowan Williams.

I was asked to run a service and preach at our old church Sunday, celebrating All Saints. It was wonderful to see all our old friends, and gratifying to be able to thanks all those who were so supportive in their letters and cards for my licensing. As I was speaking on the inspiration that the saints - humans, all - can give I was reminded very much of just how those around me have been saints in their own support and actions.

We really can, all, have or show aspects of the saints. But how often do we realise we're doing so? Many of the saints were very conscious of their own lack of perfection, and the more they strove to be like Christ some reported how glaring their own sins became. Despite that they kept trying. Though they didn't keep trying for us in their striving, in their example, I guess they give us an inkling that we can, after all, get a little closer in some way. Prosaically, it's in the way we are or can be in our everyday lives. Yes, it includes thinking towards God rather than self; reaching towards others needs and own spiritual welfare; emulating the saints approach to life; and also in applying Jesus' teaching to our own life, now, in ways he could not have thought of at the time.

We can't be perfect, unfortunately, but we can make the world a better place, help bring in the kingdom* (can only try, I guess). The chances of beatification are extremely slim ;) but we will join the numerous ranks of Christians all striving to be saints in their own, small way. And me? Could I ever be regarded as a saint? Knowing my own struggles as a follower, the answer to that is a resounding No!, but it's the same for each of us, I guess, who keeps on trying; we all have to keep trying to follow him who proved to us there is a way to improve the world.

I just hope he gives me strength to keep going. Hmmm... I guess that's one of the reasons for prayer.


* Kingdom of God, that is.

Yesterday was too full to post, but I really have to mention the service. The leader of our worship band preached, part of a series on Jonah. His own experiences as a chef, slicing into the guts of fish and praying to be relieved of the duty made an interesting comparison with Jonah and Jonah's pleas. Apart from his amusing and interesting sermon, the songs (some say just 'worship') were excellent - a good mix of tempo and mood without being manipulative. Add this to the warm, encouraging and welcoming approach our parish priest has towards all services and it ended up being an uplifting and wonderfully rejuvenating service - one that will certainly keep me going for the week.

And that's the point. I used to be fairly 'loyalty' focussed, a little saddened, I guess, about those who left their local church to worship elsewhere, though I certainly encouraged those who spoke about it to worship where they felt most at home. But after experiencing it myself, the sadness has gone, to be replaced by joy, a delight that someone has moved on in their faith and gained enough confidence to say 'I grow more from _this_ style of worship; it encourages me and helps me in my life as a Christian' (whatever _this_ is).

We* all know we are in a world where individual freedom and choice is paramount, but I fear that so often the church doesn't acknowledge this. Sure, I have heard one bishop say words to the effect that 'the church must adapt or die - and we're seeing it happen, already', but how much are we bogged down by Victorian (or earlier) approaches that are taken as "traditional"? And which just don't address the needs of a growing number of people (70's-onward) who are, for example, used to all modern words in the liturgy? But the flip side, the risk of trivialising an important and much-needed way of life through entertainment, rather than focussing on prayer and individual spiritual development, is just as bad a risk.

It's a problem addressing that need both ends addressed - and I don't have the answers. But services like yesterday's give me a massive encouragement that we're trying, and they address the needs of quite a few worshippers.

Wonderful stuff.

* OK, most brits I've met, at least ;-)

Too long between posts, but it's been hectic. Our focus and priority has been on moving my daughter in and finding a new school, as well as on work, so this blog has jus tbeen put on the side burner for the past few weeks. She's living with us now - perhaps in answer to prayer - but it's been an extraordinarily busy time. We're settling down now and hope to get into a more organised state (is that possible with a teenager in the house ;-) ). We've had to sort out how things fit, transport-wise, around school, our church commitments (Alpha support, music practice, Home Groups) and, of course, her church youth group... and we still don't know the other school commitments, yet! And why is so "interesting" - we live in the sticks and the school is about 13 miles away, luckily in the same parish as our church, though.

But things will come together. We're praying we can give her the structure and support she needs to do well at school. And by "well" I don't mean to add the pressure to achieve A/A* in the core subjects but that she will get the results that enable her to do what _she_ wants, through out her life. She's bright and expressive, and it's wonderful that we can now support her here, now, and I only hope we are up to the task.

Be careful what you pray for... :D

...was a confirmation at one of the other covenant churches.  In the evening we have a youth service - I try to help out with the worship band playing keyboards.  Despite just going as support, in the congregation, I was surprised comforted to find myself announced before the service as a new Reader for the area.  It was a pleasant relief, and also a reminder that service is wider than just my own church.

Though there were only around 110+ at the confirmation service, it's a small building and was rather crowded!  The bishop, as always, was excellent in making the confirmation service special and memorable for the candidates.  His jokes and attitude were gentle and set the right tone, and his sermon was exceptionally easy to listen to and quite inspiring.  His was a reminder that faith is measured by quality, not quantity, and that things (for example prayer) done in and through faith can have extraordinary repercussions, touching emotions and caring and loving for others without the 'do-er' even realising that was the case.

The evening service had a few more youths (and adults) present.  As always, it's a fun service but has a core of appreciation for what Christianity can mean, imply or do for those in their teenage years.  And that probably comes to the fore as its mostly run by the youth cells and only 'overseen' by the youth leaders.  It's a pity more don't know about it, though...

So, 10 minutes to go, I've already sworn the oath to the bishop, along with the others, and I get some jitters. Thoughts flitter through my mind. "Have I listened adequately? Have I heard right? Is there really a match between what I am and the ministry to which I feel called?" I can do little but stare at the intricate stonework traceries on the walls. And then "Am I worthy for this? Am I really up to it? Is this just a panic attack?"

There's little to do but wait and pray - but even this is interupted. The cathedral is full, the stress has got to the Warden, as he warned us, and the procession is lining up: the questions I have are not heard. Then the virger is moving, so we follow, around the nave and up the central aisle. I glimpse those who've come to support the other Readers and I; there are smiles and nods exchanged, simple but welcome tokens of encouragement. And the smiles on those who've come to support me help calm my nerves...

...and I realise, again and as always, it's people who count. Those from the church and watching, those who cannot come but who've got in touch or sent cards or even those who've worked quietly away in the background - I guess each of us have someone fulfilling one or more of the roles we need just as we can give to those we know some little aspect of what they, a shred of light, even if it is just a candle flame in strength.

Isaiah 6, the commissioning, comes to mind again and also Paul's words of support in 1 Cor 12. Perhaps a paraphrase is in order:

"Everyone has a gift and, indeed, there are a wide range of gifts, each supporting a ministry and service that is necessary to work for God in the world. But there is only one God behind both the people and the gifts, and through the Spirit He works through all who put themselves to his service."
So no, none of us are every really worthy, but He can make us so. Whatever we have, whatever we give, if we give it honestly and openly to Him it will be used.

So I relax. Or, at least, as much as I can in the Cathedral ;-)

The day ends, and I am exhasuted, but relieved. A four-year process and training programme come to fruition, and now new work begins....