Author: David

Hours in meetings 18
Miles driven 476
Flights 1
Lord Mayors Greeted 1
E Mails sent 88
MadRussianTaxiDrivers 1
Concerts 1
Out to Lunch 2
Trains 1
Services 2

My tandem-riding friend in Ireland stirs me by sending a recent ‘Irishman’s Diary’ column from the Irish Times. It’s a rant. It’s a triumphalist hymn to the economic and social triumph of Catholic Ireland when measured against today’s Scotland: ‘Catholic Ireland has demographically and economically overhauled its once-triumphant Presybterian neighbours. A vibrant enterprise culture flourishes in a once priest-ridden, backward and dirge-filled land. Whine-Eire has been vanquished by Ryan-Eire.’

Meanwhile Scotland, home of Adam Smith, birthplace of ‘economics, the raincoat, tarmacadam, single malts, penicillin, the suspension bridge, modern roads ….’
The ruin of Scotland … subsidies. And he ends ‘Depend on the state for your wealth and you will end up watching daytime television and drawing the dole while your diminishing band of overweight offspring shoot up in their classrooms.’ Rant indeed and triumphalist at that!

But how much truth?

Today was amazing. After living in the dark for the last few months, suddenly it’s almost spring. As I drove out to Glenalmond this morning the the light was bright, bright – and on to Dundee, across the Tay and back to Perth through the Sidlaw Hills beside Shakespeare’s Dunsinnane Hill. If it wasn’t for the bits I have to do in between all that, I would think I was on holiday.

And as a linked search, I wasted 20 minutes looking for the Honda Civic ad on the net – but found it. It won’t make me buy one. But if the church had a quarter of that creativity, discipline and panache … life would be very different.

I seem to have spent the whole day dishing out encouragement. Those who know me as capable of quite a bit of cynicism may find that difficult to imagine. But to meet a lack of confidence in the future is to be reminded of how fragile these things are. I actually find it quite alarming because, for all my cynicism, I don’t think I have ever seriously doubted the future for a moment. And it’s not just what you say, it’s how you say it and how you are and how you feel … and you point people towards the promised land without being quite sure that it is there … but maybe that is what living in the tide of grace is all about. I’m learning.

As so often in my work a day of contrasts – beginning in London and ending up at the Introduction of a new Priest in Charge in the congregations of Elie and Pittenweem. These are beautiful little coastal villages in the East Neuk area of Fife.

Jim, their new Priest, was born in Fife and has spent most of his ministry in America. The congregations have had good times and bad times but are full of hope that this marks the start of a new and positive chapter in their life. As always I felt how like a wedding these services are. The life of this priest and that congregation come together at the intersection of vocation and mutual need. They make huge commitments to shared life and work in an open future. Friends and family, the diocese, are there to support them as they make the commitment. And then we all tiptoe away … leaving them to learn to live and work together.

A dinner at the Mansion House in London for bishops from the churches of the British Isles. Overtones [sic] of Gilbert and Sullivan in the uniformed guards, watermen and lightermen. Stirrings of memories of being taken to London as a child to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Some signs around one that the dressing up box and the Oxfam shop have been raided for anything vaguely purple. But most of all at such moments one is aware of the strange sense of lurching from one mode of life to another – a slightly Cinderella-ish feeling that one suddenly finds oneself at the ball without being quite sure which is real life – going to the ball or life at home with the ugly sisters. Most interesting of all in these fragile times for the church is the sudden sense of Christendom recaptured and the joining up of various bits of establishment. Yet to say that is to suggest that this was about wallowing in the half-forgotten comforts of the past. For what was said by the Lord Mayor and the two Archbishops was all about one of the key challenges of our times – the building of an inclusive, tolerant and accepting society.

As I deal with the intractable and the intangible … I find myself pondering what risks becoming a sort of mantra: ‘Never allow anybody to say a final and definitive “No”‘ Why not? Because, once they have done that, everything locks. It then requires a measure of face-losing climb down for further movement to take place. So I sit in sometimes difficult meetings trying to keep things fluid and open and hoping that I can find an agreed way forward – and that the Spirit will move.

Paradoxically, back in Northern Ireland, it sometimes seemed to be the right thing to allow somebody to say ‘No’ – indeed people often said No/Not an inch/ No surrender with great gusto. Better in those circumstances to know where you are. Better to hear the flat negative than the softer words which seemed more open but were not really so.

A pleasant Sunday morning with a quiet and faithful congregation – and then off to Glasgow to visit our youngest child – and because of the impending house move a quick – quick? – visit to Ikea. Have you seen the Ikea car park at 3 pm on a Sunday afternoon? Enough to bring on an attack of agoraphobia. No wonder the ‘Turning the Tide’ figures suggest that there aren’t many regular churchgoers in Scotland – they are all in Ikea.

And to make it more interesting … on our last visit, one of the staff cheerily said to Alison that the Ikea catalogue was the second most popular book in the world after the Bible. A comment reminiscent of John Lennon’s suggestion that the Beatles were better known than Jesus Christ.

But how did the two experiences compare?

Solid respectability. Roots deep down in things that matter. We’re here because we’re here .. Unchanging truth spoken and lived. Let the world rush about in the search for change and novelty and short-term satisfactions – we hold the deepest truths about life and how it should be lived. Like the prodigal son, they will come back.

Today’s readings actually challenge that way of thinking.

The River Tay is the biggest feature of the landscape around here. Apparently it is the longest river in Scotland – 120 miles. When I was learning how to find my way around here, I very quickly discovered that it really matters which side of the river you are on. It’s a big river and there aren’t many bridges.

So how about a Saturday afternoon walk along the river? Fine – except that it is quite hard to get to it. We chose a spot with a Roman fort and walked and walked and walked across the flood plain. And we got there eventually and found the huge river running through an almost empty landscape.

Stick to the walking guide next time, I think.