Remembering John XXIII

On Thursday, my Rector suggested at Evening Prayer that we commemorate Pope John XXIII, the anniversary of whose death in 1963 is on June 3. John’s short pontificate was a critical formative experience of my late teens and early twenties. My undergraduate years (1959-63, if you really want to know) coincided with the preparations for the Second Vatican Council and the first two plenary sessions. It was an exciting time to be a Roman Catholic. With so much change in the air, many of my generation hoped that those elements of Catholicism which were frankly intellectually embarrassing would be quietly allowed to fade away. It didn’t happen, or at least it happened with very limited results in some places.

John taught us to lay aside fear and be free. He gave us the courage to see that adventurousness in spiritual matters was a gift of the Spirit, not perverse rebelliousness or lack of faith. Unhappily, the springtime which he announced was not followed by summer, but by a return to winter under his successors.

Refreshment!

Until about three years ago, V and I were members of a small chamber choir in Glasgow, but had to leave when the rehearsal evening, which had been our only free evening in the week, was changed. We greatly miss our music-making, but try to compensate by taking advantage of opportunities to attend occasional workshops in Renaissance and Baroque music, usually under the umbrella of the Early Music Forum. Recently I attended one, and it was a real treat: friendly welcome, non-threatening atmosphere, splendid music (Josquin, Fuenllana, Peebles, among others). The joy of these occasions is that the whole is always greater than the sum total of individual contributions.

The day after, I had a call from an old friend whom I hadn’t seen for years, and we had dinner together: good food, wine, and conversation of the kind which is increasingly rare in our speed-driven world.

A blessed time of refreshment.

Loyal to what?

The Church of Ireland Gazette has this news item:  ‘The [Belfast] News Letter reported last week that the Loyal Orders have declined to take part in the intercessions at the General Synod service in St Patrick’s Cathedral, Armagh (10th May) because a representative of the pro-gay Church lobby group Changing Attitude Ireland was also going to participate.’

Why were the so-called ‘Loyal Orders’ invited to participate in the first place? And what did they suppose that the representative of CAI was going to pray for?

Bread of life, life of bread

I was racking my brains to decide what to preach on on Low Sunday, which seems to fall to me almost every year. I was determined not to preach yet again on ‘Doubting’ Thomas, which I had done several times. Then I came across an article on how to make sourdough bread, which caught my imagination. You can read it here. What appealed to me was the cluster of metaphors that could be applied to the life of faith, especially in the week after the celebration of the Resurrection. The connection between bread and the life of the Christian community is obvious, but this specific kind of bread invites one to develop the possibilities of the other metaphors. The empty tomb is our starter, the living, breathing, continually regenerating mass of dough is analogous to the spiritual body of the risen Lord in the world, the Church. The fact that the same starter can be used indefinitely, however much new material is added, can express how our faith both rests on foundations of great antiquity and is ‘new every morning’. And bread by its nature connotes all that is wholesome, kindly, and companionable, full of rich blessings.

Mouse heaven

Whatever you say, say nothing

Er…I don’t know whether I should talk about this but…you know: new legislation. From today, ISPs are obliged to store all records of internet searches, e-mails, text messages, etc. So I didn’t say any of those things I wrote since I started this blog. And I haven’t read any of yours or commented, and anyone who alleges differently will receive a sharp e-mail…oh, rats! Forget I said that. Anyway, this blog will be written from now on in invisible ink.

Destroy on reading. [Are you getting all this down, Jacqui?]

Miss Universe, 1942

‘Berlin and its environs are heavenly at this time of year’ said Miss Universe. ‘I spent a peaceful afternoon on the shores of the Wannsee – so restful! I believe there was some sort of conference there a few months ago. Then on to Dachau, where I lunched with the officers and had a photocall – one of them gave me his cap with that provocative little badge picked out in silver thread. They showed me round the camp, where I viewed the showers and saw the huge chimneys for the heating system. Next stop Poland!’

To fast-forward to 2009, click here.

Goodbye, Jade

You know, Jade, there was a time when I wasn’t sure I liked you, but today I’m sad. I never watched Big Brother, but that business with Shilpa Shetty was widely covered in the papers, and the way it was reported, it sounded pretty unpleasant. But I can see now that it was a stage on your journey in search of freedom and dignity. The need for affirmation can break out in anger and envy in the best of us, and which of us can say that they have never uttered a racist remark (of which you very quickly repented, by the way)? Anyway, the hothouse atmosphere of the BB house must have been unbearable at times.

But your journey has led you a long way, from a broken home, a poor education, and dysfunctional relationships, to the present, where you have won the respect of the nation: for your love for your boys, and your determination to provide for them; your campaign to raise awareness of cervical cancer; and the honesty which made you refuse to engage in cosmetic concealment of the effects of the chemotherapy.

Above all, you made your peace with God, and I give thanks for that.

I know it turned into a bit of a media circus, but in the circumstances it was probably the only way to achieve what you wanted. I just hope now that your family and friends will be allowed to grieve in private.

Rest in peace, brave, feisty woman.

It must be March

Red-currant in bloom;

snow on the ground:

it has to be March!

Every day is Lent

I’ve never been able to empathise with churches which don’t have a strong sense of the liturgical seasons. However, the price we Episcopalians (and all Anglicans, Roman Catholics and Orthodox) pay for having seasons is that, as they come round each year, it gets harder to find anything new to say. So on Wednesday I found myself preaching on the usual things: repentance, intimations of mortality, self-discipline, prayer, reflective reading of Scripture.

Then, as I spoke, it suddenly occurred to me that if we made a list of these activities and left it lying around, someone picking it up, who knew something about Christianity, might well say: ‘Why, these are what we expect from Christians day by day!’

So do the seasons have a value? Yes, because each time they come round we have to face new issues and new challenges. Since last Lent, the world financial structure has collapsed, leading us to reflect on the apparent absence of limits to greed, and on the consequences for the less well-off, who have seen their savings eroded because of reckless behaviour by financial institutions. In the Middle East, there has been a surge in violence and suffering in the last few months, followed by the emergence of a probable right-wing government in Israel. And the Congo and Darfur are still with us. Not to mention the fact that the danger to our civil liberties in the UK is more acute than this time last year.

I must admit to struggling, every Ash Wednesday, with the apparent contradiction between be-smudging our foreheads and the gospel injunction not to make a public show of penitence. But if Christians are to contribute to the world’s  healing, our day-to-day living has to be seen, and seen publicly, to be Lenten – all year round.