Category: Blog Entry

Regular readers will notice that there has been nothing to read this last few days.  It’s not often that I get seriously overloaded, but this week has had a bit of that and more besides.

We did interviews for our Casting the Net Development Officer posts.  It was as interesting as you could wish for – as you would expect when you move outside the comfort zone.  Fascinating people and good interviews.

We also did two evenings of ‘Thinking through Lent’ – in Perth and St Andrews [where a post-grad qualification in theology is a qualification for residency]  This time it was about how we come to have faith – I failed to manage a date for my conversion.

As if that wasn’t enough, some difficult stuff got sorted out in the background.  And we have 200 yards of slightly odiferous fishing nets outside the back door of the office.  But what are we going to do with them?

One of those interesting events which comes around occasionally.  Dunkeld has been celebrating the 200th Anniversary of Thomas Telford’s magnificent bridge over the Tay.  There has been a whole weekend of activities – including a parade by the Atholl Highlanders, the only private army in Britain.  This commemorates the fact that the bridge was paid for by the Duke of Atholl.

Anyway, they asked me to preach at the Thanksgiving Service in the Cathedral – which is, of course, used by the Church of Scotland as their Parish Church.  But they kindly let me in for the evening and this is what I said.

Interesting the way things sometimes tie up.  I found myself earlier in the week listening to an analysis of the number of [particularly younger] clergy who are attracted by sector ministries, chaplaincies and the like.  I can see the attraction – some boundaries around the working hours, clearer management structures, maybe better pay.  Beyond that is what is attractive for members of a minority church – ministry which connects with the whole population.

And then yesterday I was at a Stakeholders Conference [dreadful word] about spiritual care in the NHS – of which more another day.  But there it was again – the tug of chaplaincy, freedom from the need to raise your own stipend and keep the roof on – and all that – the purity of working with people without all the clutter.

One thing it does make me more certain about.  I’ve always wanted to do some work in helping clergy and vestries to have a clearer understanding of one another.  It’s about roles and expectations, about management and accountability – what the relationship is and what it is not.  We’re designing something at the moment.  We can’t and shouldn’t attempt to turn congregational ministry into something as superficially tidy as secular employment – but we could iron out some of the difficulties.

Springtime at Blogstead.  The huge prairie across the garden fence has had very farmer-type things done to it so that it is all neat and tidy – fertiliser spread and, I suspect, seed sown.  All accomplished in one day by a series of enormous tractors.  And apart from some spraying from time to time, that seems to be it until harvest.  Strange business farming.  No wonder the countryside seems empty most of the time.

Well my excursion to Edinburgh by Megabus worked well.  It took 75 minutes from home to Charlotte Square by driving to the Kinross Park and Ride and picking up the Megabus there.  I think it would be hard to beat that.  Pity I didn’t want to go to Charlotte Square.  The return was rather less successful because of standing traffic at the Forth Bridge – I reckon it was about 100 minutes and that’s not bad.  It was 50 miles return in the car and £7.28 return for the bus.  Sort of splitting the difference on the carbon footprint.  I’ll try it again on Friday for the College of Bishops Meeting.

Always find Mothering Sunday strange.  In the parish it was an immense event – heaving with children and flowers.  I would never just say ‘folk religion’ – but most of the classic statements about its meaning never seem to get anywhere near it.

Today was different – because the story of Jade Goody’s life and death gave it shape and purpose.  To be personal about it, she represents for me all the awkward people who have roared and shouted at me, all the difficult and non-compliant people .. in whom strangely and unaccountably I have seen the grace of God at work.  I wonder if what she became was as surprising to her as it was to us.

What is fascinating is the way in which her passions – misdirected towards Shilpa Shetty in the Big Brother House – were directed towards her husband and her children.  And somehow she came to terms with the idea that what the church was offering her could in shape and express what was most precious to her.

May she rest in peace.

I’m just fed up with the Perth-Edinburgh train service – slow trains, hopeless times [particularly in the early morning], lack of parking at Perth Station and so on …  So I’m going through one of my phases of trying alternatives – before I go back to the train.  Today’s was to drive to the new Park and Ride at Ingliston just by Edinburgh Airport and take the £1.20 bus in from there.  It proved to be not a great idea.  I waited almost 15 minutes for the bus at each end and it was a painfully slow journey to the City Centre.  I would have been faster on the Brompton but the A8 is not appetising for cyclists.

Next attempt is the Megabus – maybe from the Park and Ride at Kinross rather than the Broxden Roundabout.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

A flurry of phone calls from Belfast this morning reminded me that the BBC in Belfast has been putting out some of my pre-recorded Thought for the Day – if you’re interested it’s here and here and here and here

Strange this St Patrick’s Day not to be in Ireland.  I would have preferred to be in Washington listening to President O’Bama discussing his Irish roots.  But instead I was on Cumbrae in the College of the Holy Spirit passing the time with our Faith and Order Board.

Cumbrae is an extraordinary place – ten minutes on the ferry from Largs.  The College sits beside the Cathedral of the Isles.  Both are gems of Butterfield’s architecture built in 1851.  Our small church has great difficulty sustaining them.  But it’s hard to walk away from such treasures.  Go and take a look if you can.

For reasons too complicated to explain, I was staying in a guest house overlooking the shipping channel.  So I sat in the window of my room this morning dealing with my e mail.  As Liaison Bishop for Mission to Seafarers in Scotland, I was able to send an e mail to our Chaplain reporting that shipping on the Clyde is far from dead – four ships in an hour.

Most commentators seem to think that Northern Ireland’s politicians, people and political settlement came through a difficult week with considerable credit.  If you haven’t read David McKittrick of the Independent, take a look.  I think he remains one of the most authoritative writers on Northern Ireland and its problems.

So who was being attacked?  The PSNI and the Army, obviously.  On a wider scale – the political settlement and the whole community.  My own feeling is that in Northern Ireland the most interesting politics is within communities rather than between them.  Many people who were not fond of Sinn Fein could see that the long project of moving their people from violence to politics was an extraordinary feat of political leadership on the part of Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.  They achieved it without a major split – remember Brendan Behan’s famous remark about the historical tendency of Irish republican movements towards schisms and internal wranglings. After accepting the notes and apologies, the third item on the agenda of any republican meeting, said Behan, was ‘The Split’.

So small groups of dissident republicans are – sadly – almost inevitable.  Part of what they were attacking was the movement of mainstream republicanism into politics.  So the strong words of condemnation from Sinn Fein leaders are an attempt to make sure that the partition between mainstream and dissidents doesn’t move.

So the best that can come out of a dreadful week is a strengthened understanding of people right across the community that they have much in common and much to lose.

Well the trivial round and common task take us to some rare and interesting places.  Glamis Castle comes round now and again as it did this Sunday morning.

The faithful Passat did a reasonable impression of a carriage and four down the immensely long drive.  We had Eucharist and Confirmation in the beautiful little chapel.  The guides say that one seat in the chapel is always reserved for the “Grey Lady” (supposedly a ghost which inhabits the castle), thought to be Janet Douglas, Lady Glamis.  Apparently no one is allowed to sit in that seat.  The Grey Lady did not emerge to give us her view of the sermon.  There is a confessional in the sacristy.  Neither did she appear to receive ghostly counsel.