Category: Blog Entry

I’m getting into the Alistair Campbell Diaries at present. What the diaries show, of course, is that leadership anywhere at any level is a fairly scrappy business and the ‘great leap forward’ is usually illusory.

But there are exceptions.  At the moment, I’m with Tony Blair’s move to scrap Clause 4 in his first Conference speech as leader of the Labour Party. This was an attempt to make a radical break with the past.  It was a high-risk moment of daring – and it showed the distinction between symbol and substance, so important in Ireland. The less daring said, ‘But Clause 4 is only a symbol’ – why risk all the conflict which will result?  Our instincts are to go for substance and let symbol look after itself. But sometimes, I suspect that that opposite is true.

Other moments of leadership daring which I respect?

Michael O’Leary of the dreadful Ryanair went out in the week after 9/11 and bought 140 new Boeing planes at knockdown prices – because nobody would ever fly again.

Nelson Mandela put on a Springbok rugby shirt – symbol of white South African manhood – to present the cup in 1995. Yes – symbol again.

Sometimes I think about it … when my Easyjet flight is poised above the runway and about to land, for example. How would I feel, I ask myself, if this organisation was run by the Scottish Episcopal Church? Would I step on the plane? I think not.

Bit of that around at this week’s residential meeting of the SEC’s Information and Communication Board – an oxymoron in itself, you may think – in the Quality Hotel, Perth. Since four of the seven members present are bloggers, you and the high command of Quality Hotels may be interested to read the results here and here Welcoming angels unawares, I think. It was just dreadful. What is unforgivable is the tendency of the management to blame the customers – as John Cleese/Basil Fawlty used to say, ‘What do you think this is? A Hotel?’

If the SEC were to run a hotel, it would be shambolic. Lots of policy documents but no lunch. If you came to complain, we would be happy to talk to you endlessly about your feelings – so much so that you would forget what you came to complain about. If too many people came, we would shoo them away because we don’t do crowds or the mass [sic] market. But for all its shortcomings, it would be a friendly kind of place so that after a while you would start to forget that any other kind of life existed …

People often ask about the new Northern Ireland politics. How can it be that the old enemies seem suddenly to be able to live and work with one another? I too find it extraordinary – and if now why not five, ten or fifteen years ago? So those of you who don’t read the Northern Ireland news may have missed the information that Ian Paisley is stepping down as Moderator of the Free Presbyterian Church. Going before he is pushed, it seems.  Read about it at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/09/08/npaisley108.xml

While the Democratic Unionist Party seems to have been able to make the political movement towards power-sharing, the Free Presbyterian Church has found it more difficult.  Not surprising really.  Politicians can choose to change direction for the most pragmatic of reasons.  Conviction-driven churches can’t and don’t do pragmatism.

I never quite know how these things work out this way. But, after the excitements of our trip to Fermanagh, we headed for a wedding party in Dorset – on one of the best days of the summer. Old friends from Ireland but also former members of our congregation in Muthill – tho’ gone before we arrived. All I can say in my carbon footprint defence is that it was accomplished in one ferry journey and two flights.

I finished Ian McEwan’s ‘A Child in Time’ as I got back to Edinburgh.  It’s a slightly spooky psychological thriller and wonderfully written – the story of the loss of a child who disappears in a supermarket.  Remarkable to read against the tragic, unfolding story of the McCanns.

We headed for Fermanagh this morning heading west from Belfast past Dungannon, Augher, Clogher and all the others.  We even passed the charmingly named Lungs Gospel Hall.  And out beyond Enniskillen to Reilly’s Cross.

Jones Memorial School – my first school – did themselves and us proud as they celebrated their Centenary.  The children sang and recited – one week into term.  Letterbreen Silver Band played and the sun shone.  So here I am with Miss Beatrice Crawford, my first teacher

We met on my first day at school in 1956 – she taught me to read and lots of other things as well.  She made a wonderful speech about her 40 years teaching in the school.  She reminded me about the bats which lived in profusion in the roof beams of the classroom.  There were 43 children in three classes in one room.  I talked about my memories of the school in general and of the toilets in particular.

I pulled strings, unveiled plaques and cut cakes.  I felt like the Queen.

Back in Belfast again, I’m afraid.  This time it’s to open a Garden Party to mark the 100th Anniversary of my Primary School outside Enniskillen.  Could they not find a footballer or pop star, I wonder.  Anyway, I’m going to meet Beatrice Crawford, my very first teacher in school.  It was only 51 years ago.  Of which more tomorrow.

Northern Ireland is as interesting as always.  Why, one wonders, does the P & O have a Bureau de Change since both Scotland and Northern Ireland are in the sterling area?  Maybe it exchanges accents or attitudes or historical time zones rather than money.

I also picked up today material from what is now the Centre for Contemporary Christianity in Ireland – used to be ECONI.  If you are interested, you’ll find them at www.contemporarychristianity.org  There is an interesting debate going on about how much truth the new Northern Ireland can cope with.  The South African model of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission suggests that progress is inextricably linked with the availability of truth.  The question is how much truth the fragile political process and political institutions in Northern Ireland can cope with at this stage.

We went into church this evening in Auchterarder for Andrew’s Institution as the new Rector.  Clear bright light over Glen Eagles and the Ochil Hills – slight touch of colour in the trees for the beginning of Autumn – perfection.  I brought a sermon and definitely preached this one.  The Vestry and congregation have done well in the 10 month vacancy but they’re glad to see new leadership arriving.  The settling in period is always a bit strange as people take the measure of one another – I remember greeting the first time somebody told me what they thought in clear and simple language.  I regarded it as my arrival point.

As I welcomed Andrew to Scotland in my Irish accent, I did ponder the fact that this church does not seem to be producing all the clergy it needs.  Small churches need people coming from outside but there’s a balance in these things.

We had a bit of a ‘do’ – what they’d call in Ireland a ‘thrash’ – or maybe a wake – for members of the Cathedral Chapter last night.  We’re losing Bob Gillies and David Campbell, borrowed by the Diocese of Aberdeen and Orkney and by Fettes College respectively.  We’ll miss them.
Poppy thought better of it and moved two doors down to Blogstead Emeritus for the evening.  She finds it more sedate down there and they seem to have more time for her.

We took the opportunity to run the annual Chapter Scrabble Competition – this year on a Cranmerian theme.  I thought the Precentor had a particularly smug look in his eye as he put ‘indifferently’ right across the board for a killer score.

This morning we were with St Columba’s, Aberdour. At least, we were once I had got to the right church. This is another of the communities along the southern coast of Fife from the Forth Bridge. It’s a lovely church and it’s on the way back from hard times. There were just over 35 of us with Val the Rector and myself. I do get a bit anxious about the average age of some of our congregations – but I had to put that ‘on hold’ when I met St Columba’s secret weapon called Dot ‘n Sally who have been members of this congregation since 1938 and 1962 respectively. Nothing they haven’t done to help keep this congregation alive over the years. What was the smallest this congregation had reached in their memory? Two. And without the faith of people like them, it would probably have disappeared altogether.
I brought a sermon.

Mention of Princess Diana reminded me of that extraordinary Sunday morning ten years ago when – as I am sure many clergy did – I told people what had happened during the night.

And, as this was my first Sunday back from holiday, I remembered my fondest ‘welcome home’ story. I slipped into the Parish Office before I went into church just to check that there was nothing lurking on my desk that I needed to know about. Forewarned is forearmed and all that. On my desk was the will of a lady who had moved from the parish some time before – leaving the parish a not-insignificant amount of money and expressing the hope that she might be buried in the churchyard. I went into the Vestry and asked my colleagues as casually as I could the two questions, ‘Has she died?’ and ‘Was she buried in the churchyard?’ To which the answers were Yes and No respectively.

I haven’t yet beaten the E mail and the post.  It isn’t gaining on me but it hasn’t submitted gracefully either.

And out of the haze emerge all the things that need to be pushed along – the next stage of the Diocesan Review, the Conference on Mission Priorities on October 6, the second phase of the Stewardship Programme, four vacant congregations going through the process of appointing new Rectors, the website, the Ministerial Review Programme, worship development, BBC scripts to be written ..  And, in between, one tries to find out, explore and do whatever it is that all this is about.