agreement is overrated

Earlier this week I had the great good fortune to catch up with an old friend of mine, and to meet a more recent friend of his over supper.

Tory Baucum, Rector of Truro Church in Fairfax, Virginia, and I have been friends for almost a quarter of a century - since he was a curate in Little Rock Arkansas, and I was about to start training for ordination in Oxford. We met by chance, as happens with the best friendships. Though 'chance' may, of course, have had some divine help; either way, I'll take it.

It was Tory who introduced me to Asbury Seminary in Kentucky, and thereby to many others who have become important to me. The years have had their generosity and taken their toll; I have seen the recent days of Tory's work and felt with him the pain he has had to work through.

Tory, of course, pastors one of those churches that pulled out of The Episcopal Church, the US arm of the Anglican Communion, after the consecration of Gene Robinson a decade ago. It wasn't an act done over a single moment. There was a lot of history. But the issue of orthodoxy and orthopraxy in the realm of sexuality remains a key issue for Truro and the other Anglican churches that made the same decision at the same time.

Regular readers will know that whilst I share Tory's absolute evangelical commitment to Biblical truth, I disagree with the outworking of it here. But I have absolutely stood by him through these years. In heart and prayer and emotionally. He is a godly man of peace with a passion for relationship (which is always at the heart of my Christian understanding) and a desire to seek the greater truths of the Biblical witness. He is someone who is not afraid to stand up and speak graciously when all around call upon him to denounce people; and he is my friend.

I visited him and Elizabeth and the family (for the first time in a while) back in October when I was in DC. Though I was working over there, I had some time on a Sunday, and had the great pleasure of worshipping at Truro. Tory told me of his friendship with the Episcopalian bishop of Virginia, Shannon Johnston, and the surprising blessing that had come from meeting with the man at the head of a diocese at war with his own parish.

Tory & Shannon were in Coventry this week, speaking at a conference on Faith in Conflict organised by new Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. There's an article in this week's Church Times about them, and here is a link to the audio of their event. If you can spare an hour, stop and listen. It is very much worth it, to hear two men speak of grace in the midst of distress, and how God can change hearts. In the midst of fear, and lawsuits, and enmity, a friendship has been born. Remarkable. And it is a simple truth that leaders set the tone for their people; it may take a long time for full resolution, but the way people pray together across hurt is a witness to God's redeeming love and the reality of forgiveness.

Before he flew over here, Tory called me - could I find time to see him, he'd love me to meet Shannon. Of course, I replied that would love to do so. And we found a time that worked.

I never cease to be amazed at Tory. He gets it in the neck from so many people - he lives in a place where the church is in crisis. Hurting badly. Many people (mostly in other places - his congregation seem remarkably kind) demand he fight the wicked Episcopalians. And he simply loves, disagrees, talks, prays with, engages as the Lord leads him. It's a godly thing and a costly one. Shannon too acts out a prophetic role: not lording it over Tory or taking the role of the power figure (as, in stereotype, one might imagine a bishop to act) but speaking to his own Diocese of their friendship - and how it has changed him. This is humility. This is godliness.

It was a great pleasure to meet Shannon, to discover a shared love of music, a passion for Anglicanism built on the principles of the Elizabethan settlement, and to talk over many other things.

Shannon says in the audio from the Coventry conference: "Agreement is overrated". Unity is not uniformity. We are not all called to be the same. As Christians, sometimes the real delight comes in meeting people in whom we see Christ, but who are quite different to us in all sorts of ways. We disagree - perhaps on how we worship or how we talk about Jesus to others or in what we wear to church. Or in some of the wider and, for now, deeper issues of faith.

But there is a bedrock. Our forefathers were very wise when they gave us the Catholic Creeds. Just the core things. Mostly about Jesus. If we share these things - as Tory says - "these things are not nothing". Indeed, these things are an awful lot. These things bind us together and make us family. In the family, there are cousins and grandparents, and a crazy uncle we'd rather keep on the porch, but who belongs inside with us. That's the Elizabethan Settlement, right there. The Church is a big house, with many rooms and lots of room. And love and kindness matter.

And the water of baptism is at the door, the outward sign that we have all been welcomed in, that we have made promises and received grace. It is an outward and visible sign of the cleansing we receive in our hearts by the blood of Christ which is the seal and reality of our redemption - even when we begin to doubt each other, and the validity of the words and signs we see in each other's lives. The blood is thicker than the water, the reality deeper than the sign.

So when the outward is a bit shaky, when churches and Christians fight and argue and split and spit and tussle, and love seems to have left the building, this does not negate inner truth. For God will find a way to restore his redemptive normality. He will find people like Shannon and Tory, who are not papering over cracks but recovering the essentials for the rest of us.

We must bless people like these two men. And pray for them.

this is an ex-pope...

Today, for the first time in 600 years, a Pope left the Vatican City having resigned his office. I felt I should mark the occasion with something appropriate. Something fitting. Something that pays due respect to the institution of the Papacy and to the historical nature of this occasion.

Alternatively, with a little nod to a certain British comedy tradition... 

A prayerful Catholic enters the Vatican.

Catholic: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

(The priest on duty does not respond.)

C: 'Ello, Miss?

Priest: What do you mean "miss"?

C: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!

P: We're closin' for lunch.

C: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this Pope what swore his life in service of the church not half an hour ago at this very House of God.

P: Oh yes, the, uh, the German White...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?

C: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's resigned, that's what's wrong with it!

P: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.

C: Look, matey, I know a resigned Pope when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.

O: No no he's not resigned, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable Pope, the German White, idn'it, ay? Beautiful red shoes!

C: The shoes don't enter into it. It's flown away. In an 'Elicopter.

O: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!

C: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up!

(shouting at the curtain in front of the throne of St Peter)

'Ello, Mister Hans Pope! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show...(priest hits the curtain)

P: There, it moved!

C: No, it didn't, that was you hitting the curtain!

P: I never!!

C: Yes, you did!

P: I never, never did anything, you can ask a Cardinal...

C: (yelling and hitting the curtain repeatedly) 'ELLO POPEY!!!!!

Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!

(Shakes curtain till it falls, revealing empty throne. Both men stare at it. C eventually lifts a finger and points:)

C: Now that's what I call Sede Vacante!

P: No, no.....No, 'e's just gone to the loo!

C: THE POPE'S GONE TO THE LOO?!?

P: Yeah! All that shakin', you stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! German Whites have a weak bladder, it's a well-known fact, major.

C: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That Pope is definitely resigned, and when it gave its life to serve the Church not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and 78 but that it 'ad years left in it yet.

P: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the Rhine.

C: PININ' for the RHINE?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did my photo of him fall flat on its back the moment I got 'im home?

P: The German White prefers kippin' on it's back! Remarkable Pope, id'nit, squire? Lovely shoes!

C: Look, I took the liberty of reading about that Pope when you lot first blew the smoke up the chimney, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.

(pause)

P: Well, o'course it was nailed there! It's the flippin' Pope - if he's not had the whole bleedin' stigmata it's VOOM! Feeweeweewee! He's off!

C: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this Pope wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' resigned!

P: No no! 'E's pining!

C: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's resigned! This Pope is no more! He has ceased to be Papa! 'E's Emeritus and gone to pray in 'is Summer House!

'E's on holiday! Bereft of duty, 'e rests at his leisure! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the Throne of St Peter 'e'd be fishing up the Tiber!
'Is Theologic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the Curia!
'E's kicked the bulls, 'e's shuffled off 'is triple tiara, collected his pension and clocked in at his Pensione!!

THIS IS AN EX-POPE!!

(pause)

P: Well, I'd better replace him, then.

(he takes a quick peek behind the altar)

P: Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the Sistene Chapel, and uh, we're right out of Popes...

bach again

On the Presto Classical site I came across the Bach St John Passion conducted by Philippe Herreweghe, coupled with Cantatas for Quinquagesima, and on special offer. Half price. I couldn't resist.

The St John Passion is one of my essentials. One of those things I think makes life better.

Now - this is a slightly unusual St John. It's the 1725 version, so there are a few different arias. And, most notable, the opening chorus and final chorale are different. However - it's Herreweghe; it's a stunning recording; it's Mark Padmore as the evangelist. I have a long trip this week - I'll listen and maybe review then.

I have already been loving the four Cantatas for Quinquagesima, offered as a filler disc. The words are glorious, passionate, sincere; the music beautiful, aching, blissful. "My Jesus, draw me to Thee and I will come running."

Four tiny cantatas, four snap shots of Christian commitment, four bite-sized examples of Bach's genius as a church composer.

And whilst I was in the mood, I found this marvellous recording of Bach Piano Concertos by French pianist, David Fray. And it comes at a bargain price on iTunes.

The freshness of his playing, the joy, the dynamic range, the romantic wonder of it whilst living within 21st Century tempi and orchestral tones - it's a superb CD. I was entranced from the opening notes of the allegro of the D minor Concerto onwards; the adagio had me on the verge of tears. There is something about Bach which simply understands what it is to be human. There is something about Fray's recording which simply understands Bach.

Here's his A Major. Occasionally he is hard to watch, but he's a pure delight to listen to. Enjoy.

glad

Quite by chance I came across an ad for the new King's Consort recording, I Was Glad.

I'm glad I did.

It is astounding. Anglican Evensong music as you really never imagined it, fully orchestrated and transformed from the quire to the heavens.

OK - let's get the negatives out of the way. It's not perfect. The King's Consort is a mixed choir, and more than that, at times the sopranos genuinely rejoice in their fulsome vibratos. For a purist, this can be hard to take. When you have grown up with a treble line on these pieces, there are moments when less would be more. The soprano soloist on Stanford in G is beautiful - but very much a soprano, not a treble. And almost unforgivably I'm afraid for me, the first verse of Jerusalem sounds more like a gathering of the WI than the pure spine-tingling essence of Anglican boy choirs which would have set my heart on fire along with Elgar's beautiful orchestration. Though, to be fair verse two, when the men come in, works fine.

Having said that...

The choir is gorgeous. Thrilling. Gutsy for the most part and always sounding as if they are relishing every note. A few quibbles about the odd vibrato over-spill are soon swept away as I am swept away by this glorious music revelling in full orchestration and stunningly recorded, beating me into submission.

Anyone who has had the pleasure of singing these Stanford settings, of belting out I Was Glad, of just settling back in the stalls as some nameless college choir have helped the summer sun dapple through the stained glass to transport them through the gentler ecstasies that the C of E has pretty much snagged as its own should find this recording an essential addition to their collection.

I wrote the other week, after a trip to evensong at Merton, that with music like this you are supposed to bathe in it & come out feeling cleansed by the experience. This is like bathing in liquid gold. In honey. It's the five-star spa treatment, with bathrobe and slippers thrown in. It's too much to take in at one sitting, and it's so good you can't stop yourself luxuriating in it. Turn the volume up, let the music do its work. At the end, I came away with a deep smile of satisfaction and simply wanted to press 'play' and start all over again.

I've read reviews that liken the orchestrations (of music that usually comes with proper Anglican organ restraint) to Brahms & Wagner. Perhaps. It reminded me of watching Princess Anne's wedding; back in the day when we first bought a colour TV and the world was filled with glorious new possibilities - we sat there transfixed: so this is what it's all supposed to look like! And now, I kind of feel that this is how Stanford & Parry are supposed to sound. There's a freshness, a brightness, a brilliance that in my mind I had always heard, and now my ears get to share the experience.

It's not perfect. Honestly, there are moments I need trebles on the top line. It is wonderful, and I salute Robert King and all the singers & musicians that have provided this wonder. It is a recording I shall treasure.

 

evensong

I wandered into Leeds during lunch hour last week. I often walk in from my office. In part there's a regular excuse of a little shopping that needs doing; more truthfully, now I no longer have a dog I simply like to take the exercise.

Anyway, on this occasion I spotted the sale that was happening in the troubled HMV store, and in I went.

There's not much of a classical department in Leeds. Actually, I saw the department in Oxford a few months ago and I have to say there isn't much of one there either any more - the old basement sanctuary is, apparently, history. Life moves on. But in the limited section, I did find the recent Advent recording by the Choir of Merton College.



I have been meaning to purchase this for some time. Knowing I had a couple of long journeys coming up & time to enjoy it, I picked it up, paid for it, and took it home with me.

When I was an undergraduate at Merton the choir was a typical collection of volunteers corralled by the organ scholar into some semblance of harmony. They did a decent job. Like most Oxbridge choirs, they had a fairly solid mezzo-forte volume, not too many consonants, and a reasonably nice overall sound. A new chaplain, a new vision, and a new fundraising regime later, everything changed. A new choral foundation was born.

I suppose the new choir at Merton must be four years old. I attended the first concert they gave - and remember feeling that there was work to be done. I've not had chance to go back since.

Well, the work has been done.

First: That Advent recording is superb. From start to finish there are beautiful moments - a glorious sound matched with clear words, light and shade, and some dramatic full throttle singing when it really is needed. I was entranced particularly by the Es ist ein Ros towards the end.

Beautiful.

And this weekend, being close by, I did make it back. I actually went to chapel for the first time in donkeys years to attend a service.

The music included the Howells Collegium Regale Mag & Nunc, performed gloriously. The final crescendo on each 'Amen' was thrilling. The Rutter Hymn to the Creator of Light was new to me (click this link for a Kings Cambridge version) and again excellent. The sort of music, throughout, that Evensong is all about - you bathe in it, and come out feeling cleansed by the experience.

Unlike Kings, of course, this is a mixed voice choir. Think Trinity Cambridge. And really, do think Trinity. That good. There were a couple of folk with colds & I was told they weren't quite on form - well, they were terrific. In no time flat they have gone from 'in need of work' to right up in the top reaches of college choirs. The beauty of a Psalm chanted with spoken rhythms, words falling away and not all sung with equal emphasis, yet almost every consonant crystal clear - goodness, that was special.

If I could ask for one thing more, it would be for some really quiet singing to be in there somewhere. The magic of all those voices producing hushed awe and deep restraint, contrasted with the volume and power that flashed at us from time to time - that would be the complete deal. I don't think we got close to that tonight. Mezzo piano was lovely, pianissimo never quite came.

A good choir reveals a good choir master. Benjamin Nicholas clearly is that and more. And hats off too to the chaplain, Simon Jones, for driving this project. It is transformational. As a Mertonian, and as a musician, it was a joy to be in that place and to experience that service. Importantly, as a Christian, though all these thoughts were around and having their place in my mind, ultimately they were actually secondary:

Merton College Choir provide simply superb traditional Anglican evensong worship. If that's what helps draw you close to God, then go and enjoy. You are in for a musical and spiritual treat. I hope to be back again soon.

other tales of glory

I'm enjoying a weekend away. On Friday evening I was with the MacInnes clan, celebrating David's 81st birthday. I love David & Clare - friends for many years, godly, fun, and wonderfully inspiring. Plus - great food. Always make sure your closest friends provide you with great food. A special treat to see Rob & Tamsin, and Harry & his boys, and a whole assortment of dogs too.

Then on to John & Clare Hayns, for more friendship therapy. Good people are the greatest gift.

Clare H is now curate in Woodstock, and I am looking forward to hearing her preach this morning. We spent some time chatting last night about the text for today - the Transfiguration - and what we find there.

The Transfiguration is a strange event. Speaking about it has issues. There are people who will say, (good Christian folk at that) "But I've never had an experience of God".   How can we talk about a story that has such an immense experience at its heart to people for whom experience is a mystery?

Clare wondered if part of the issue is the way people sometimes apprehend experience. Do people 'have an experience' without realising it?

I wonder if in fact many of us are a bit like St Peter. He sees Moses & Elijah and the cloud & gets that something is going on, and wants to grab a hold of the thing and memorialise it there and then. "Let's build booths! One for each of you!" That's his response - and by the time he's stopped working out what to do, the moment has passed.

When I went to the Olympics, I was like everyone else. I had my iPhone out, snapping photos like they were going out of fashion. I even made a couple of audiboos. And then I realised a dynamic that was going on and put the thing away. For the mementos we take such care to create can put true experience at arm's length.

If we aren't careful, we don't really see a stadium, Usain Bolt, a crowd, a world record, the wonder of the greatest show on earth, if instead of using our eyes, ears, nose, taste, touch - if all we are using is the screen on those ubiquitous iPhones. They allow us see but a tiny part. The world made small. The experience mediated through a technological wonder, with memories limited because the actual experience was focussed around that rectangular black device.

People do it at weddings. Baptisms. Jubilees. Concerts. Parties. I've even seen it at funerals. Memories at one remove.

"But what did it smell like?"
"How hot was it?"
"What was the person next to you on the other side like?"

Blank looks. Didn't take those photos...

St Peter would've had an iPhone. He'd have been snapping away. He'd have been just like us.

Anglicans do it by creating services to memorialise something. It's not the thing, it's the service to commemorate the thing that we obsess about...

And experience of God is obtusely hard to find sometimes because actually it's obvious. It's now. Right now. In fact it's not magic or necessarily mystical, but immediate and here.

There's no need to capture the moment. Live it instead.

Jesus' promise is to be with us always, so one of the things we have to learn to do is believe the promise and (in faith) half-turn to him without losing sight of what we are looking at (try it, now) and say with a wondering smile -  "Do you see that?"

When I was a kid I heard the phrase "arrow prayer". I suppose I'm talking about that. Except - "arrow prayer", as my old college Chaplain at Merton used to say, suggests that God is over there somewhere & we have to shoot our prayers with the hope they will hit the target occasionally.

He's not there. He's here. Experience is about trusting that, and then living like it.

And maybe, just maybe, we'll see and feel and know the answering smile from the Maker of all things. His touch. His nod. His shared wonder. His joy too.

Footnote.

And in the middle of the night, asleep or half awake, having thought about all of this, suddenly I felt the most enormous, deep sense of the presence of God. Perhaps I was still churning through all of this. Perhaps - a Saturday night habit I still find hard to kick even nearly two years after leaving Pontypridd - I was murmuring in prayer through the long dark hours. But suddenly, light, and glory. And a grand temptation immediately in the midst to reflect & describe it. Which, mercifully, I threw to one side. I simply enjoyed the moment.

As the glory faded, I was reminded of Psalm 103. I felt prompted to look it up. I mean, I can do the first verse or two from memory, and the bit about 'gracious & compassionate', but I felt strongly there would be words here that would be significant. And then I fell asleep properly.

I finally did look it up this morning, and it is of course a lovely Psalm. More than that, there are indeed words in here which speak to specific things I have been mulling over in these days. Things that I'm not going to speak of yet. Other tales of glory.

Experience is better without the camera sometimes; and I say this as someone who loves to click and tweet! There are moments just to let these things happen. For God promises to be with us - and we need to learn how to be with him. Not at one remove. Then we can see and hear the most wonderful things.

going too far

So now the Equal Marriage vote has happened, how is everyone feeling? I’ve seen some interesting comments from all sides. I kind of make the choice to believe that people are struggling as they try to be generous all round.  

After all, in the run up to Tuesday night there was an acknowledged degree of...vitriol. I’m not a fan of that kind of thing. Kindness is at times a harder call, but a better challenge.

I wrote to one person, on Tuesday, with whom I have been friends for over 25 years. I did the music for his wedding. We disagree on this issue. We have sat over coffee and discussed our different Biblical perspectives. We are both passionate about it. But I wrote to him that there is no issue, no cause in my life that is more important than the people in my life. 

This isn’t because I don’t hold issues and causes dear; it’s because people matter more.

Difficult issues bring hard choices and I suppose it is impossible to keep everyone happy.  There’s a temptation to decide matters on a “hurt quotient” which should certainly be avoided. Actually, I saw a lovely spoof of that way of thinking on Facebook today, where ethicists were said to have discovered a new theory - it is better to kill an old lady’s cat than a little girl’s puppy. This is either because the little girl will be introduced to death and the old lady has already had pain, or because it will traumatise you more to distress the little girl than it will to grieve the old lady. Either way, the old lady loses. 

(Mind you, part of me feels that a “perfect Anglican compromise” would be for everyone to fail to get what they want...)

No: It’s not about hurt. It’s not even about causes. Christians face tough choices and have to do the best we can for people given that we live in the real world. And we genuinely struggle with what that means. Struggle is good.

I confess I struggle with the procreation argument. As far as I can understand it, “for thousands of years” this has always been part of marriage. (Ever since 1662 or even earlier...) Forgive me - but the church’s line on this is an application of the Bible, is it not, rather than a simple reading of straightforward Scriptures? Indeed, the pressure of the procreation expectation led to shame and to people being cast out from society - as the Scriptures themselves evidence. The facile Labour argument on Tuesday (no fertility tests at the altar) was a great soundbite but it’s also true: older people, infertile couples - ‘barren’ couples in the view of some societies because of our emphasis - are yet able to be married at the altar. It seems this is because an archetype of procreativity between man and woman exists, so the specificity does not need to. But because this archetype does not exist between gay couples, very many people hit a problem. I hope that’s fair - I mean - as a description of the argument?

Because I don’t think it’s fair as a description of reality.

This is my struggle: I think if this is anywhere near a description of how reality is working then the power of an argument has just trumped the value of people. So to speak, the Sabbath is ruling man. And by this positioning of argument over people, of the importance of a theory (which is often kept already only in archetype as it is), I fear that those of us who disagree will be kept separate across our battle lines instead of coming together as God’s family, holy and dearly loved.

May I push further on the children in marriage question? It’s not ‘procreation’, it’s children, isn’t it? People. In contemporary terms we have to look freshly at this irrespective of the gay question. In a world where we will see population increase by a third in the next forty years and food demand rise by a half in the same time, is it godly to tell everyone heading to marriage - be procreative! Have kids! That’s the point! Exhaust the earth! I was with an academic last term who said that Africa will see the equivalent of 24 New Yorks created in the next 40 years (I think that was the figure - it was astronomical). Where will these children find food? Where will they find water? These will be real people and we can’t be tempted by an attitude that even has the possibility of sounding like: “Never mind - when everywhere was as populous as New Zealand, the rule that we drew from Biblical principles worked. We’ve always done it this way before.”  

My boss sometimes struggles with me because there are times I don’t work well with rules. I love to live outside the box. 

I get that this occasionally makes me a difficult customer in an institution - but surely, putting my cussedness to one side, this is a fair question to ask: Where does Jesus make a rule bigger than a person (other than a religious person)? Where does he find a law to be more important than a sinner? I will lose all my principles in favour of my relationships because when I see Jesus I see that it’s better to be righteous than right - by which I mean, I’d rather be right with you than beat you in an argument. Truly. I’d rather be in a good relationship with you than be correct. 

I love to be right -don’t get me wrong - anyone who knows me knows this! But the fundamental Gospel imperative I find in the Scriptures is not about being right - it’s about being right with God and right with one another. It’s about righteousness. It’s about love.

Which brings me back to where I began. 

I guess my point is that with regard to the current situation around marriage, the status quo isn’t acceptable because it doesn’t treat enough people as people. One MP put it: not making anyone special, just making everyone the same. The change offered is (for sure) far from perfect, but I do find it is an improvement. With flaws. The church should have a role to point out things that deeply matter - but we need to work on what those things are, and that doesn’t mean simply returning to how things have always been. We all know (deep down) that saying “Bad, bad, bad,” about the argument or about each other won’t get us into the discussion. Nor, might I suggest, do comments that imply the law makers don’t know what they are doing and don’t have the ethical chops required for the job. Four minutes per speech is a pretty tough call for a reasoned work-out on this; from what I heard, many of them did a great job. 

So what do we do? What do we as God’s people do now? How do we act? 

What’s my magic answer?

What it always should be. In John’s words - little children, love one another. We, we of all people, have to do what we have been re-made for. After the vote, I hurt because my friends hurt. I pray that they might also have been rejoicing because I was.

Equality is about making each other as human as we can. As in-the-image-of-God as we can. It’s about going too far, because that’s what He did for me, so I should do it for you.

people are people

Today the House of Commons debates the Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Bill. A Conservative Government is promoting equal marriage rights for gay couples. It will pass; of that there is no doubt. Many Conservative MPS will vote against it; of that there is also no doubt.

Christians carry different attitudes towards the Bill. Evangelical Christians at that. Lots of people I know are very much in favour; some I know are very much against. The Fulcrum website carries lots of articles reasoning against the change - this one, by my old friend Andrew Goddard, is fairly typical.

I am resolutely in favour.

Fundamentally, people are people. Throughout the Gospels Jesus establishes this base-line truth. And to do so he drives coach and horses through the accepted understanding of who and what is acceptable or unacceptable, sinful or clean. Take the Canaanite woman in Matthew 15. It's all very well having an attitude that Jesus welcomes sinners, but requires them to repent - in this story the disciples murmur at the woman's presence and want rid of her because she is sinful. What makes her so? That she is Canaanite. That she is a woman. At the end of the story, she has worshipped Jesus, received her daughter's healing, and gone on her way. But she's still Canaanite. Still a woman. So what was acceptable? Or sinful?

In Matthew 8, the centurion begs Jesus to heal his dying servant. Luke uses a fairly standard slave word, and Matthew changes it, which allows some to see in this passage a very rare reference to homosexuality in the Gospels. The servant is the centurion's 'boy'. And Jesus heals him. Now stop for a moment - which is worse: Jesus making a gentile occupying soldier acceptable & then healing a slave so he can carry on being an object in a household used at its owner's whim, saying 'slavery is fine - I'll return you to that state'; or Jesus making a gentile occupying soldier acceptable & then healing a loved person so he can return to being loved and to loving in a gay relationship? Which is acceptable? Which is sinful? Where are our boundaries?

At the end of that passage, Jesus comments: "I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." A warning, I think, to help us stop and understand how he is working, and how he sees people.

Of course, I understand that for many the road to equality is a hard one because the Scripture makes marriage purely for a man and a woman. That's what Jesus says in Matthew 19.5; a man leaves his father and mother for his wife. Man. Wife. Simples.

But the same people then, in preaching, and even in translating, do an interesting thing with all sorts of places in the New Testament - especially St Paul. Let me give a classic example from Romans 12:

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God--this is your spiritual act of worship.

I might want to think about the accuracy of 'spiritual' as a translation, but my point is there are two additional words here that aren't in the original. "And sisters". That's the interesting thing. It seems to me to be close to being a contradiction to their attitude to Matthew 19.

I guess the question is one of intent.

Does the Scripture include or exclude? Well, here in Romans 12, and all over the place, we find the Scripture includes. The word 'brothers' is typical of an address to a crowd and therefore to all people - St Paul did not intend his great peroration to be for men alone.

That much is clear.

And I might ask if Jesus, in Matthew 19, was intentionally excluding gay people, or if he was in fact rather setting out the normative pattern of relationships. Leaving. Cleaving. Faithfulness. It's interesting that the context of these remarks is not an attack on homosexuality (how they are so often used now) but questions on divorce, and that Jesus is pushing people to value faithfulness and personhood - the personhood of both members of a marriage. God made the woman too - don't throw her away! It's a cry for equality, not a demand for exclusion!
Let's push that cry for equality further. Even the maligned tax collectors turn out to be people in the New Testament, a concept Jesus' contemporaries would find almost impossible to comprehend. Turncoats, quislings, sinners beyond redemption, selling their own people - God's people - to the gentile invader.

Yet Matthew is called to follow Jesus. And Zaccheus gets a home visit. And before you can say - there you go, they repented, so they were welcome; sinners need to repent - I want to ask: what did Zaccheus do after the encounter of Luke 19? Open a fair trade stall at the back of synagogue? Jack in his job and work for Oxfam? Perhaps we can get guidance from John the Baptist - he was always very hard line on these issues. Here's what he says in Luke 3:

Tax collectors also came to be baptized. "Teacher," they asked, "what should we do?"
"Don't collect any more than you are required to," he told them.

Stay in your jobs, says the Baptist in the wilderness, but do them fairly. It's not sinful to be a tax collector, it's acceptable. You are OK.

Wow.

People are people.

When we establish and promote a morality that makes some people less, we have to be really very sure that this is what Jesus would do. I am struggling to find very many examples of Jesus pushing people down. I struggle with the line that Fulcrum takes, though I respect the integrity behind it, and have had some lovely conversations with Andrew & others. I struggle because whilst I appreciate that there is absolutely no desire to be homophobic or to make gay people less, the result of a theology that says - "there is absolutley a place for you, as long as you can jump through these hoops that we could never manage to jump through and are really glad we don't have to" - is that people are discriminated against. Saying "you are welcome but must always be celibate" doesn't feel like being made welcome to very many people.

And if I am going to make a mistake, it is that I will make people too equal. Because it is what I see Jesus doing. So I support what the Government are doing today. It's long overdue. I wish it every success.

When God touches me, I feel too equal. How can I not want it for everyone?

old norse lightbulb

In the autumn of 1986 I was walking down Merton Street behind two particularly bulbous-headed scholars, when one turned to his companion and said:

"The problem with Old Norse is..."

And that was about the last bit of their conversation that I understood.

As I was sitting in the cafe in the Leeds art gallery today, I had a similar experience. My work iPhone buzzed in my pocket, and I saw I'd received a message from an academic I've been working with.

Tomorrow, I am travelling with a team from the University to make a presentation. It's a very exciting event, actually, and perhaps being a part of this project has been the best thing I've done here in this job. All universities sell themselves as world-leading and making a global impact and brilliantly innovative etc etc. But this particular research, coupled with the potential partner we are seeing tomorrow, will genuinely fulfil those numbingly platitudinous epithets. If it achieves what it sets out to do, this project has the capacity to affect everybody.

Anyway.

The message from the academic was entitled: So what exactly is (name of project)? I smiled as I read the message, which talked of finding that lightbulb moment in understanding something and was brilliant, deep, and totally over my head. I love being a part of something like this. It is frankly wonderful. In an instant I was transported back to Merton Street and my youth and those Old Norse scholars and their enthusiasm for something that I would never, ever get.

A moment later, another buzz from my iPhone. The team leader had replied. His precise words:

"Yes makes sense."

I think I'll just book the rail tickets, carry the bags & smile.

what's going on, Marcus?

Is it the way they use my name that makes the question so pointed?

It's a false familiarity. An unexpected jolt like the prize draw letter that you, Mr Green, can't quite put down, because you, Mr Green - yes that's right you, Mr Green - have been specially selected from over 500,000 people in your town/city/locale to receive it! Mr Green, don't lose this opportunity to change your life! (Ooh, slight hesitation, and it's in the waste basket.)

But with this one false touch suddenly FaceBook makes me feel guilty.

"What's going on, Marcus?"

Nothing. Honest. I wasn't doing anything. I have nothing to hide. Why, who said I did?

Somebody said I did, clearly. It's no longer just unwanted ads for Star Trek memorabilia and tickets to Doctor Who conventions, along with offers of signed photos of Ryan Gosling and demands from charities asking why I haven't yet saved three puppies today that assault me every time I flip over to FB.

Now there's an accusation awaiting me.

It might as well say: "OWN UP NOW AND STOP WASTING OUR TIME, Marcus." 

What's going on? Nothing. I haven't committed any crimes, defrauded the government, refused to pay corporation tax, defended the NRA, built a nuclear weapon in my cellar & sold it to Iran, helped the Chinese increase Global Warming, excused the US for not caring about the same, smoked anything (questionable or otherwise) all day, been binge drinking again, hacked into MI5's website, built a computer code to crack the lottery, or said anything (EVER) against Clare Balding.

See. I'm pure as the driven.

"What's going on, Marcus?"

And yet that last-beat leaning on my name means I feel guilty. I'm going to be found out, aren't I? Big FaceBrother is watching me.

I've got this sudden inexplicable urge to splurge, to tell all, to reveal my inmost, to let it all out and confess in the confines of the box provided.

Goodness. Is this what it feels like to be brought up Catholic?

Does anyone know if I can still join MySpace? Is it OK to convert so late in life?

guinea pig

I braved the cold this morning and went to see the doctor; I’m still coughing up gunk from my Swiss flu.

It was all very efficient. I was in the examining room within minutes of my allotted time. After disrobing myself of great coat, ski hat and thick red wooly scarf, she listened carefully to my breathing, asked me questions about the colour of the gunk (as if I'd know anything about the colour of anything) and promptly prescribed some magic pills. I swiftly re-robed and wandered back into the fresh morning air.

Goodness it's cold. There was a decent-ish snowfall last night, but this morning I think the clouds are sulking ominously until everything warms up a little.

Into the car. A quick drive around the corner in search of a parking space. Then the inevitable wait as the chemist serves the elderly infirm of Calverley who have descended in droves ahead of me out of pure spite.

Eventually it's my turn.

The chemist (smart, Asian, looked about thirteen) handed over my goody bag with the magic pills and said – “Ooh, these are like, you know, still really new and we ask people to tell us if they work or if they give you massive abdominal cramps & headaches; can I get you to put your phone number down so we can check up on you?”


Which filled me with confidence. I must have looked a bit shocked, cos he added:

“I mean, they’re great. They usually work really well.”
I signed on the dotted line and gave him my mobile number.

So far so good.

Of course, I don’t take the first one till tonight.

common sense

Yesterday's surprise judgement by the Eurpean Court of Human Rights has delivered a genuine coup for Evangelical lobby group Reform.

Although lawyers from Lambeth Palace are still digesting the one hundred and forty three page pronouncement from Strasbourg, and have indicated that there may be grounds for a counter-claim, initial responses seem clear.

As the wearing of religious symbols in the workplace may only be allowed if they are purely decorative and pose no threat to others or raise any health and safety issues, in future all clergy whilst on duty should look like this:








And not like this:









In the first picture, the subject might be a bank manager or a junior sales executive. He is, of course, the chairman of Reform, the Revd Rod Thomas, dressed for work, in full accordance with European directives. In the second picture, both the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Pope are wearing highly flammable robes close to a naked flame in full view of an antagonistic faith symbol. This kind of archane flouting of European Law is now clearly unacceptable, and such scenes (Lambeth's legal questions notwithstanding) will soon be rightly condemned to the scrap-heap of history.

Christian leaders from the Alpha Churches network have joined Richard Dawkins in hailing this "common sense" advance, although Cardinal Keith O'Brien, Scotland's highest place Roman Catholic, reflected that this was only to be expected from a court "steeped in the grotesque subversion of equal rights for foreigners and those who wish to promote same sex marriage".

something singing

The kindness of friends is one of life's never-ending joys.

I have been suffering from the flu since arriving in Wengen a few days ago. And yes, real flu - I've had a fever since Wednesday evening, and eventually made my way to the local doctor this morning. I rang at 8am and with typical Swiss efficiency had an appointment at 9am. The doctor gave me the once-over, confirmed I was running a fever, did a few tests and decided it was simply a rough flu bug. I was presented with a series of medications (and my experience of receiving drugs from this surgery in the past gives me great confidence) and instructed to report back to her on Monday morning.

Of course, what this has meant is that I have both failed to be any real use to the local community as far as the church goes (and I'm supposed to be here for a week as Chaplain to the English Church) and I've also not even got close to thinking about doing any skiing.

However - in the few moments I've ventured outside the apartment, I've seen a surprising number of folk, and received a wonderful degree of kindness.

Let me give two examples of the latter.

Maggie, church warden here, is a wonderful friend. She has taken on some of the tasks I should be doing (looking after the church), and I feel terrible for adding to her schedule - but she is just amazing. Her generosity and readiness to help out never ceases. She's even taken some washing for me. Maggie is always for me one of those people who is able to see many different sides of life, and to hold very strong views, whilst being gracious and giving and demonstrating real Christian living. I depend on her here usually anyway, but this week she has been a rock. I know all the practicalities for church will be fine because Maggie will have made it so.

Then, this afternoon I got a text from Jane Petersen. She and her husband Paul Kaju and their daughters are a wonderful American family with a chalet at the top of the village. Paul had invited me to drinks yesterday, and I'd declined (goodness, I was rough yesterday), and then today Jane had bumped into Maggie who told her how unwell I've been.

Jane's reaction - if I was still unwell tomorrow, she was really happy to step in in whatever way I needed. Readings, prayers, leading, she even has an Alpha Course talk which she can adapt so that there can be some form of service here if I simply can't make it.

Again, I am so blessed by the kindness of friends. The fact is - my sense of duty means that I'd have to be pretty nearly dead not to be in church tomorrow; and I do feel better than I did, though the fever is up a little again this evening. But the offer is wonderful.

More than that, Jane & Claire & Sarah then trekked down the hill to bring me supper & goodies & to wish me well.

It is in the way we are loved by each other that we see something of the depth of God's love for us. Though I am physically way under par, in my inner being there is something singing tonight.

Church of England revises rules on Gay Bishops

The Daily Telegraph is amongst many news organs reporting on the Church of England's revision of its attitude to whether or not gay men in civil partnerships may be selected for episcopal office.

In fact, this momentous change came within the summary of decisions from December 20th's House of Bishops meeting. The Bishops, whilst waiting for Sir Joseph Pilling's upcoming report, are not it seems changing anything. Unless you read Fulcrum, in which case you understand that all created order is about to disintegrate. (I pick one link; last time I looked I think it had grown to 13 articles.)

Of course, the Bishops are telling the truth. It has always been the position that celibate men are able to be bishops. (Well, are able to hold the office; we've all met a few in that august office whom we had our doubts over as to whether or not there was anyone home, no matter how brightly the lights were shining.)

The prurient question that is being asked by well-coiffed churchmen now (and Rod - love the picture on the BBC site -  reminds me of someone - oh yes; would that I could still do that!) has been well put by a friend of mine on Twitter:

Celibacy: what's in and what's out?

Utlimately, we can only hope that Joe Pilling will get his act together and publish soon so that the whole debate can be finally sorted.

Well...

It so happens that I have been spending a little time over the last few weeks catching up with one or two people, and as this site is hardly Controversy Central, I don't suppose it will matter terribly if I flag up some of the early Pilling proposals which have gotten the House of Bishops very excited. You won't tell, will you?

1. The thing about celibate gay men in civil partnerships being allowed to to be considered is a smoke screen. For the first time ever, celibate straight married men will be allowed to be considered too. This is a radical advance for sexual equality, and removes in a single stroke the spectre of those awfully embarrassing episcopal children in Bishopsthorpe and the Palace.

2. After much deliberation, the moratorium will be lifted. Some church weddings may include music by Cher.

3. In one of the hardest fought discussions in the House of Bishops' history, actively gay men may be considered for the episcopate as long as they fulfil all the following terms:
i) Their surnames should begin with the letters 'H' through 'L'. Some felt that this will cause problems with those who enjoy double-barrelled surnames, but was finally voted through after it was argued that perhaps the relevant candidate could chose his favourite name. And place setting colours.
ii) They must be in a civil partnership of social repute. So, anyone partnered to a dustman or a journalist would not normally be considered.
iii) Their civil partnership should normally have been conducted within the fourth week of March - unless this was a Holy Week, in which case the Church of England would not recognise it. Also, any proto-'honeymoon' arrangements should not have coincided with Easter, which would demonstrate a lack of judgement.
iv) A potential bishop's partner should not be more than thirteen years younger than him. Unless he is very good looking indeed.
v) It is foreseen there may be parishes unhappy with such appointments. These parishes may wish to erect a thick pink line around them, and if so the newly elected Diocesan is to appoint a married female suffragon at the earliest possibility. She is to visit these parishes regularly, taking her whole extended family as often as is convenient. For her.
vi) The placing of pink crosses on the arms of bishops elected under this measure was quickly kicked into the long grass as simply insensitive. There were seen to be too many obvious difficulties with colour-clashes for episcopal robes generally, as well as all the complexities which seasonal variations bring. However, the placing of a small pink cross centrally on the license plates of episcopal limousines remains in the final discussion draft.

4. One very senior Anglican Bishop told me (and this is a direct quote): "In this compromise everyone fails to get what they want. As such, it is the perfect Anglican solution." Another Episcopal Source has said that, whilst not everything here was to his taste, and he understood others felt that some of the terms seemed unnecessarily arbitrary, he would place his reputation "on these proposals being in force by the end of 2013, with the whole thing forgotten by Christmas".

5. I'm off to the bookies...

take me to your leader

On the principle of 'better late than never', I bring you my 20123 New Year's Message.

A word of explanation first. I was fortunate to be in conversation with a very significant politician last weekend. I know he was very significant; I told him so. He was complaining about every political Tom, Dick & Harry who are publishing New Year's Messages as though anybody anywhere actually cared what they thought & actually takes the time to read them or click onto the YouTube clip.

It made me stop and think - after all, my Twitter feed & email inbox have been filled both with these messages and also the religious versions of the same. Anyone who is anyone in politics and in the church (and is keen to tell me so) sends out a New Year's Message. It's de rigueur, as they say in Glyncoch.

Clearly I have missed a trick. Or I'm not reminding you of how important I actually am. So I should put that right.

Here goes...

2013 New Year's Message from Marcus Green

It is important at the turn of the year, Janus-like, to keep abreast of past and future. The very name, 2013, holds this tension within its compass.

We begin with '20', as we have done for some time, but not always. This new traditionalism goes to the heart of what goes on at the heart of all of us. We are all in this together, different communities and even other differences, but one number.

Except for the very strict members of other faith and non-faith communities who use other numbers and even mythological beasts to delineate the popular passing of time, but they too are welcome to embrace our number, and enjoy our fireworks, as we enjoy their food and interesting musical choices.

We move on to '12', at least those of us, and I count myself in that 'those of us', as I believe do most of us, and you, and we, who do so. Sorry - we move on to '13'. Which is more than '12' and demonstrates that time like an ever rolling stream adds another one, please, Carol. And a consonant.

'13' is for some unlucky, and for others, lucky. Which goes to show. But I would say this to you: It is for all of us the same '13'. No, there are no more Olympics, but there is legacy, and a rather nice DVD on sale at Sainsburys. No, there is no more Jubilee. Except for the Jubilee of the Coronation, which, if I have my way, we will celebrate with many boats being burned. Under many bridges.

But even then there are still many causes for celebration.

Many of them. You might like to reflect on them in a moment of national pondular reflection.

And others too.

So in conclusion, I wish you a Happy (though this is not to exclude the sad, criminally insane or just generally miserable, all of whom have an important part to play in the months ahead) New (though by now, slightly used, and without a receipt, I'm afraid we can't take it back) Year (being the remainder of 362 days, unless the Mayans were just slightly out; one can hope).

And all who sail in her.

Marcus

doorway to dreamland

I made a promise to Ken at a public meeting five years ago. He didn't think it would ever happen, and wanted to know if I would be around to walk him through the doors that would join St Catherine's Church to the Hall. So I looked him in the eye and assured him I would do it.

He nearly had a leg amputated last month. But it didn't happen, and today I kept my promise. I walked him through a door that didn't exist. Didn't exist.

It does now.

After the 2005 interior renovations in the church, I was grateful that we had finished and I had no more building projects. The next thing we had to do was employ a children's worker - not that we had any children; that's why we had to employ a children's worker. And I knew who I wanted, but they lived in the wrong part of Wales. No problem - her husband was duly put through the ordination machine & sorted for training at Llandaff, and Naomi needed a job.

All I needed was money, an agreeable PCC, and enough rope to hang myself.

And just after Naomi began working with us, I walked around the back of church one day, between the church and the hall (which at the time we never used - the main room was rented out full time to Social Services; and the top floor had been condemned and was unusable) at the point where the two buildings were closest together, suddenly I was standing in a foyer that joined the two together. I was actually standing in this thing. And I realised what I was going to do next...

Oh my poor church wardens.

It was an arduous journey. We wondered why we would join the two together: the benefit for the elderly and for children who used the church was obvious, in that it would create access to loos, but was that enough reason?

So we thought bigger.

What about renovating the hall. What about using the hall. Ourselves. Losing the rent from social services. Doing more for kids. Starting a work with older people. Needing more room.

Should we build new rooms into the vicarage garden? Should we build onto the west end of the church? Of course - we should bring the top floor into use, and make meeting rooms up there for people of different ages, create a parish office, put a lift in so the older members and people with kids in buggies could use it... And so the plans grew.

And the price grew too.

But whilst all that was happening, we didn't stop. Naomi left, and Kirsty took over - using the Hall now for the children's work & growing toddler groups and youth work. Kirsty was followed by Trish. And we started St Caths Plus for older people - outreach for the more mature, based on the model of our children's work, based on our concern that older people deserve better facilities and good places to meet and do interesting things together in our community. First Esther, then Anne headed it up.

There were weeks when we had 200 people coming to events put on by the community projects.

The plans grew. And the price. And the fundraising - that was part of my job, and Esther worked hard there too. There were successes, and failures. The timeline was not what I had hoped. In the end, I felt a tiny bit like King David looking at plans to build a temple in Jerusalem: I knew it was going to happen; I knew I'd done everything I could; it just wasn't going to be done in my time. The final major piece of fundraising news came through just after I left in summer 2011. Yet it came to pass...

And two became one. The church is on the left. The hall is the main structure you see. The bottom floor is a new corridor, joining church and the new loos. (A rather welcome change from the previous Victorian facilities!) The low double stained-glass window on the low jutting structure was previously in the church. That structure is the new foyer that makes the two buildings one.

Peter, the new vicar, has work to do on his garden, which is a right mess. Good job he's a botanist...

Of course, as well as seeing all that is, and that is still to do, I couldn't help but see all who were not there. David the architect, a dear friend to me and to the church for many years, was unable to come, but his work will bless many. There were members of the Hayward family present to recall Ken, and Hilda, who both inspired me along the way. John Murphy would have loved to see this. It would have thrilled his soul. I guess it does as he looks down at us. Seeing Sam, my heart was filled with Ian. Seeing Cherry, I could picture Heather. I was motivated by so many people whose names I am not mentioning and who have not seen this day; but their gift blesses people who come after. And that is how it should be. We are all forgotten eventually, and yet the blessing carries on.

Well. Indeed. For now, much remains to be done. The service this morning was an official blessing by the Archbishop of Wales, with many friends from the wider community present - Owen the MP, Malcolm the QS, Nicky the artist who designed the new stained glass above the door that joins church to foyer, far too many to mention. It was a privilege to be amongst them. The upstairs is almost done. The lift almost ready. The kitchen nearly there. The downstairs has a bit of work still to do. The foyer roof isn't quite finished. BUT - it looks amazing. Looking down from the upstairs office over Pontypridd, you are aware of how fine a building this is, and what a gift it will be to people across the community.

There has been a lot of very hard work done by a lot of dedicated people since I left!

And here's that door. The one I walked Ken through. The one that didn't exist. It used to be a wall & a window. Not any more. The view is from the church to the foyer. Nicola Hopwood's design is on the theme of worship & praise; the words are drawn from the hymn 'My Song is Love Unknown' - and I will claim a little credit for the suggestion, though Nicky then pared them down and put her own poetic take on the final selection.

Art doesn't need explanation. But here is my response - and you should have your own. I see in the swoop of the colours, arms of outstretched praise. Behind - the night; ahead - the day; above - the cross, the highest point of all worship. Flowing from the worship of the church into the day ahead, a seed: a word, a deed, a sharing of the love received in worship. A making real beyond of the realities sung within this place. And with it - an invitation to young and old, broken and joyful, men and women, those who have come long and those who have never heard before:

Here might I stay and sing
This is my friend
Sweet praise
Days
Gladly spend

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!

It's been quite a year. And as we enter the final week, with Christmas beginning as the year ends, I've been enjoying the various round robin letters.

I'm tempted to join in. But frankly - if you're that interested, you've already read about my trek up Kilimanjaro, my semi-final defeat in the county tennis championships, and my latest concert tour as you've perused the blog during the year. Plus, you've been challenged by the odd sermon and thrilled by the academic breakthroughs I'm making at work.

What's left to add?

Well...

If we add a soupcon of honesty and the bare minimum of humility, I might say that on the whole I end the year as I begin most years. Christmas is a time for gratitude. Simply saying 'thank you'.

I'm grateful for friends and family who have been there for me through some difficult days. A small op which carried a lot of pain. A big loss which still hurts. And I'm delighted to be a part of a lovely church family in Calverley - a real joy; they have blessed me beyond words, in all kinds of ways.

I'm grateful for all kinds of people I've been fortunate to meet this year and all kinds of places I've been able to visit - sometimes quite by chance, and sometimes through work. Skiing with friends, finally doing the Schilthorn, being with Florida family & friends, St Emilion, a gospel choir in New York, a glorious day in DC, and (again) skiing - but this time as part of a wedding. The places - the people - how grateful could I be?

I'm grateful for the way my faith has been challenged and has grown and developed. It's more and more part of who I am that my thirst for a greater biblical understanding has to lie within the framework of grace. I mean, I disagree more than ever with doctrine I read which excludes people (for all sorts of reasons) but I want to remain in conversation with the people with whom I disagree. Somewhere on this blog this year the best sentence I wrote said - I'd rather be righteous than right. Which means - I'd rather be in good standing with you than beat you in an argument. Somehow, I'm finding more of Jesus here. And - listening to others means that I find really good ideas I can pinch and call my own.

Finally, Christmas. Tonight we had the Calverley Carol Service. The fantastic scratch choir worked really hard and sang amazingly. They did a couple of my carols (Christmas Song, and Mary's Song) and now I get to relax. For the first time in a million years I didn't need to stay up for Midnight Communion.

So I'm staying up. Well, why not? I'd feel guilty about missing it!

And in the morning I'm speaking at the Christmas Day service here. On John 1. Can't remember doing a John 1 sermon before...

I took Mum to see Matt's grave yesterday. Strange, Christmas wasn't a big thing for him. Charlie, his predecessor, loved Christmas. Matt enjoyed it, but he'd rather we had chicken. Yet over these days, the house has been full of him. I've felt him, thought of him, been aware of him. And (though there's been a tear or two) actually now the memories are filled with gladness. I smile. I miss him enormously. And yet he is here. My heart.

John 1. The Word become flesh: all those words from all those letters, all those highlights of all those years, all those moments for which to be thankful - and in the midst of every single one of them, Jesus. God is here. Every day. Not just as the year comes to an end. Each of those letters shows me hope and fear and dreams and loss and God everywhere.

Yes. I'm staying up. Can't help myself. Can't bear to miss.

Merry Christmas.

the greatest summer remembered

Remember when Murray won at Wimbledon? When Sir Chris got his sixth? When Bradley lounged on a throne of gold? When Queen Victoria blew kisses? When all the world did the Mobot? And Jess wept and so did we?

The greatest summer ever, wonderfully evoked in this brief BBC video. Ah, halcyon days.

cumber-some

So there we have it. The first teaser trailer for Star Trek: Into Darkness. And in 60 seconds we see a lot of action, fear, and disaster - and Benedict Cumberbatch as the latest Trek villain. And rather splendid he looks too. Home from Holmes.

I enjoyed JJ's first foray into the Trek universe enormously; everything I see here has me Pining for more.