Never left the house today – apart from going to Burrelton to get the papers so that I could look for a subject for my debut on Thought for the Day in the morning. I find Scotland a little difficult – so much less news than I am used to. But then, thankfully, there is no war going on either. And then E mails, letters and phone calls ad infinitum – 40 incoming E Mails today on subjects ranging from Perth to Myanmar. But at least, when they are all done, there is a certain feeling that the God of the details has been well served and everything is in everybody else’s in tray. The Voip phone is still not right – the WiFi connection to my study over a distance of about 10 feet isn’t all it should be. It improved a bit after we removed the brass tray which was leaning against the bureau in the hall but it is weaker than it should be. I can hear beautifully but the speaking is a bit intermittent – a good balance, don’t you think?

Sermon at the Installation of Very Rev Kelvin Holdsworth as Provost of St Mary’s Cathedral, Glasgow

All this talk of the why’s and wherefore’s of preaching leaves me pondering.  The very word ‘preach’ [and indeed ‘sermon’] leave you below the line before you have even climbed into the pulpit.  What I also find is that there is a huge difference between what I am most used to doing – which is preaching every Sunday to the same group of people – and turning up somewhere as a ‘one-off’ to attempt to add some lustre to a special occasion.  The Sunday by Sunday thing means that what one says in the pulpit picks up and reflects on what we have been saying to one another in other settings – and it can contain an element of ‘I know what you are thinking …’  The special occasion thing is much more difficult because you are relationally in something of a vacuum.  Strangest of all – particularly in the light of comments about punchy exegesis – is the fact that people almost never comment on content.  This may be because there is no content worthy of comment …  What seems to matter is whether the sermon is read from a script or spoken without notes.  Which, if I remember correctly, is how David Cameron became leader of the Conservative Party.

News today of the biodegradable plastic bottle for water. After three months, it just isn’t there any more. Surely this is a most useful trend for all the inconveniences of life. Other nominations?

‘Bishop – what we really need is to get the age of this congregation down a bit …’ I’m almost certainly not the only bishop to whom that was said this morning. It was said in the context of a faithful congregation, a church lovingly restored … So I said what I always say when I want to be reassuring: ‘But, of course, you have to remember that the average age of people in a rural community is significantly higher than it is in the cities …’ True. But not as high as that of the average rural congregation. So, to go one layer further down …. I might have said, ‘The age profile of the congregation is unlikely to change unless you review the way in which you worship.’ But then I should also have said what I also know to be true, ‘Even if you alter the way you worship, that will not of itself draw younger people into active membership of your congregation.’ It just isn’t as easy as that. There is no single answer. It is partly to do with a new kind of authenticity and integrity in church communities – so that their roots go down deeper into the realities of both life and spirituality. It involves new ways of forming relationships and building networks in this very secular society. There is a need for a sort of entrepreneurial spirit which sees opportunities of growth and grasps them with both hands. If only I could describe that in a way which would answer the question, ‘So what should we actually do?’

Interesting to find happiness on the agenda suddenly.  David Cameron [taking time off from knowing all the words of Benny Hill’s ‘Ernie’] has been exploring it as a broad political objective – and as I write this I have playing in my mind the dreadful Ken Dodd song and the much less dreadful Morcambe and Wise, ‘Bring me Sunshine’.  I think I can fairly confidently produce examples of what makes people unhappy.  But … is happiness a christian concept … did Jesus die happy … is there happiness in taking up the cross and following?  I recently met a friend who is ill and who said, ‘I am thankful for all that I have received’.  She meant, I think, children, grandchildren – and I felt that I was in the presence of a happy person.  I think there is happiness/contentment in finding integration, wholeness and balance in life and thankfulness seems to be one of the signs of that.  Surprisingly, happiness doesn’t seem to have anything much to do with wealth.  And unhappiness?  Easier, I think.  My two nominations would be … firstly anything which involves self pity and secondly an obsessive commitment to the defence of one’s self-interest, real or imagined.

My diary this week is as spacious as it was crowded last week.  So I have managed a cycle for the second time this week.  Stopped off on my way home from Perth and unfurled the Brompton on the village green at Pitcairngreen, just north of the ring road.  From there it is about 8 miles to Bankfoot on Route 77 of the National Cycle Route – beautiful, undulating countryside and a cup of tea before the return.  One is reminded that the earth is not flat nor does every road have speed cameras on it.  My only paws for thought was the sign which reminded me that it is all lottery funded – is this, like Covent Garden Opera, another example of the pleasures of the [let’s not say] rich being paid for by the poor?  I have never bought a lottery ticket in my life and don’t intend to.

I have become an almost compulsive thrower-out.  Having spent the last year getting rid of the domestic clutter, I have moved on to the Office.  All kitchen work surfaces are now clear.  My office is fit for the dispensing of ghostly counsel.  But the filing …  I don’t do filing well – was caught once having filed the Medical Cards under ‘H’.  It’s obvious, isn’t it?  Well, I thought so.  There are four filing cabinets full of the energy and outpourings of my predecessors – may they golf in peace.  It’s fatal to file as you go – you never get there.  I have decided that the secret is to throw out all ‘third party’ records – files to do with groups and committees which are nothing to do with the diocese.  Then you archive in the room off the kitchen anything which is more than about two years old.  Then you invent a system of dazzling logic to deal with what’s left – muttering all the time John Truscott’s mantra, ‘It is not a filing system – it is a retrieval system’   So you file ‘Services’ under ‘W’.  It’s obvious, isn’t it?

One of my friends used to say, ‘Most of us only have one sermon.  Sometimes we begin at the beginning, sometimes in the middle and sometimes at the end.’  I have a feeling that the less time I spend preparing sermons, the more likely I am to revert to preaching that sermon.  And, at least, because I am in a different church most Sundays, it probably retains a modicum of novelty value.  I have a feeling that the really bright people are reading all the time, absorb what they read and are able to use it without apparent effort to enrich and enliven their preaching.  The rest of us seem to end up striking a balance between attempting to read all sorts of stuff, even if not directly relevant, and working hard at getting right what we do.  But then, I hardly ever hear anybody else preaching nowadays …

This morning to Kinloch Rannoch.  Down the road, across the Isla, over to Dunkeld and from there to Pitlochry, Blair Atholl, Bruar and over the hills to Kinloch Rannoch.  52 miles of glorious countryside.  We arrived in time for a quick coffee and chat with some of the tourists in the internet cafe across the road – members of the congregation are involved in the management of it and of the filling station across the road.  The church has 7 members and they function happily without a resident priest – visiting clergy come throughout the summer and stay in a cottage in the village.   Seems pretty perfect to me.  We drove on up Loch Rannoch afterwards in beautiful sunshine and had a picnic beside the lake.  And then on to Rannoch Station where the road ends as it meets the railway across Rannoch Moor.  Next Sunday is Callendar in the Trossachs.  It’s tough but somebody has to do it.