Our Press Officer asked me to write a comment for the website on the case of Ms Nadia Eweida – a BA employee who lost her appeal that she should be allowed to wear her cross at the check-out desk.  You’ll find my comment here:
The cross not displayed

St Luke Glenrothes 19.11.06.doc

Miss Dagurreotype challenges me to comment on the video embedded in a recent post on her blog http://dagurreotype.blogspot.com/2006/11/found-on-youtube.html

This is an English pastor addressing at some length the question above. I have some problems with his Type 1/2/3 analysis – it seems an odd framework to put around the question and the conclusion [that George Bush is emphatically not a Christian] seems to arise entirely from questions about the nature of his personal relationship with Jesus. But he leaves out all the other questions which might arise from asking whether the fruits of the spirit are present in George Bush’s life – the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, etc.
I have spent too much of my life being myself reported as ‘not being a Christian’ in the Northern Ireland context – so I am very reluctant to get into the same stuff in relation to George Bush.

But – in response to Miss D – I am prepared to nail my colours to my crozier and say that there are two [only two?] aspects of what Dubya says and does which seem to me to be sub-Christian. The first is the demonisation of others – as in ‘axis of evil’. That general dehumanisation and demonisation of others is for me the absolute antithesis of what Jesus both taught [love your enemies] and did [eating and drinking with publicans and sinners]. The second is one of which I have no direct evidence – but it is widely reported. That is his refusal ever to admit to being wrong. Yes I do it too – guilty as charged! But it seems to me to be of the essence of the Christian soul that I acknowledge my individual responsibility for what I do and what goes wrong – and my part in the fallen-ness of humanity [Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you….]. That humility becomes the foundation of my ability to relate to others. How can anyone relate to those who believe that they are never wrong?  For they become sub-human.  Yet the heart of the discipleship journey is that we become more authentically human – closer to the image of God in which we were made.

According to Colm our painter whom I met in the shop this morning, ‘You couldn’t give a pub away at present.’ I was, of course, looking [in vain] for fresh croissants at the time, forgetting that this was Donegal not Dordogne. But we did ponder the remarkable success of the new Deli up the street – anchovies and all. Welcome again to the new Ireland. Maybe it will stop the Northern Ireland middle classes doing all their shopping in M&S before they come.

My other treat on this rapid trip to Donegal – to view the newly rebuilt boiler house – a veritable cathedral of thermal engineering – pity we didn’t have a key to get into it – was my usual random read from the pile of Arthur Ransome. This time it was Swallowdale – the time that Swallow gybed, broke her mast and was holed on the Pike Rock. Titty carried the telescope ashore above her head. Fortunately Captain Flint [Uncle Jim] hove into sight with nails, hammer and tarpaulin – ‘haven’t done this since I ran a gig ashore off the coast of Java’. So Captain John’s wounded pride was assuaged and Mate Susan was, as always, suitably calm, sensible and motherly.  Yes indeed.

Friday cat-blogging will have to wait – in favour of reporting on the Thanksgiving Service for Archbishop Eames’ 20 years as Primate of the Church of Ireland.  It was an extraordinary event – a real gathering of the Church of Ireland but even more a remarkable drawing together of the strands of Irish life, North and South.  It’s not every set of intercessions which are led by people as diverse as Lord Caledon, President Mary McAleese, Archbishop Sean Brady  … as well as an all-age group of people from the Church of Ireland.  Archbishop Eames has a quite remarkable ability to permeate the life of the diverse communities at every level.  Many tributes were paid last night.  One struck home to me.  He has been a significant person in my own ministry – my institution in Seagoe in 1986 was his last as Bishop of Down and Dromore – he kindly came and preached at my consecration in Perth.  I have seen him dealing with good times and bad.  But I have never seen him ruffled – have never seen him speak impatiently or in anger to anyone.  They won’t, alas, say the same about me.  So for Archbishop Robin and the remarkable Lady Christine, a well-deserved retirement and, for the Church of Ireland, a need almost to redefine itself in the post-Eames era.

I got so caught up with horse obsequies yesterday that I forgot to mention Samuel Seabury – who died in 1796.  He was the first bishop of the Episcopal Church of the USA and was consecrated by the bishops of the Scottish Episcopal Church.  I hadn’t been in Scotland for more than ten minutes before I began to realise that this is hugely important for the SEC – a brave decision in the face of English disapproval!  I think that even today it may be somewhere in the way in which the SEC reacts to ECUSA in the Windsor debate.  And, if Wikipedia is to be believed, one of the three consecrating bishops was Bishop Kilgour of Aberdeen – no relation to the present Provost Kilgour of Aberdeen, I think.

He was only a horse – but it was hard to believe as I listened to the breathless accounts of the end of Desert Orchid. ‘Died as he lived’ and other meaningless platitudes surrounded his departure to that greater steeplechase beyond where all fences are cleared and the water jumps run in cool fresh springs. Given the opportunity, he might well have taken time this evening to win the Grand Final of Mastermind or have a cameo role in the shouting match which followed the ‘Will they, won’t they?’ debacle in The Archers. I was on the motorway and I had to turn it off. Can’t stand conflict – that’s my problem.

I’m still pondering Ellie and Miss Dagurreotype’s ‘We didn’t vote for him either’ comments [10.11.06] about George Bush and the politics of fear.  I sympathise with them – I’ve worn variations on that tee-shirt with pride all my adult life.  I just wish that I could climb more sympathetically inside the psyche of those who do vote for George Bush .. for Ian Paisley …  I suspect that what makes this kind of politics fairly repugnant the world over is the way in which simplistic religion is used to give it drive – and to make it hard to challenge.  ‘If you’re against me, you’re against God as well.’  And beyond that, I think that the way in which people describe their country tells you a bit.  ‘Nation’ is ok – tho’ I suspect it is becoming uncomfortably exclusive now that communities are so astonishingly diverse.  But when people start referring to the ‘land’, I think you are in trouble – as in ‘homeland security’ or Billy Wright, the loyalist paramilitary leader, who talked about the choice to be made between ‘land and faith.’

My efforts to indulge in a little light cat-blogging – what you need is a picture – reminded me again that I need to get myself beyond basic functions in this blog programme. I’m like a person who has learnt to drive but put off dealing with reversing for a while. This programme is all very non-intuitive – or so I grumbled to Kelvin, my mentor. But I have now found the instructions – they aren’t called that, of course – and I am reading the words with great interest but not understanding them. Watch this space.
Poppy is so named because she came to us on Remembrance Sunday. She recently had her portrait painted – it’s Exhibit No 126 ‘Poppy the Bishop’s Cat’ in the Annual Exhibition of the Perthshire Art Association – £250!

I wore my poppy today – following my usual practice of wearing it Remembrance Sunday only. I think this is a hangover from the highly politicised nature of poppy-wearing in Northern Ireland. It’s different here – although I read my fellow-cyclist Jon Snow’s complaint about ‘poppy fascism’ with interest.

Meanwhile, we had the simplest possible Act of Remembrance in church today. As always, I find the silence almost unbearably moving – as was the sight of the small and faithful gathering around the War Memorial in the centre of Blairgowrie yesterday morning. No room to be picky or PC. Particularly not while soldiers are dying for a [lost?] cause in Iraq. Re-read Sebastian Faulks’ ‘Birdsong’ – still, for me, the outstanding evocation of the First World War – or Ben Elton’s ‘The First Casualty’ or Pat Barker’s trilogy.

Poppy – classic Brown Burmese cat for those who don’t know – is a bit browned off at present because we have tended to be out for quite long periods.  But, after being purely a house cat for most of her life, she now enjoys rushing in and out through the patio door.   Spice, next door’s Norfolk Terrier who takes a keen interest in her, is away for a while.

Meanwhile, Poppy ponders the pre-occupations of this blog and brings to bear the cat-wisdom of the ages.  She holds no grudges or pre-conceptions.  She is not an ideologue and doesn’t care whether others ‘love freedom the way we love freedom’.  Like much of the population of the world, she simply maintains an interest in where the next meal is coming from – and welcomes love and affection while reserving the right to ignore them.