This is partly what I did for the Circuit Staff Meeting, complete with a montage of suitable pictures - alas, as I blogged earlier, things didn't go according to plan....
The colours of Autumn give a new splendour to our world. All is golden, russet, brown; thre is an astonishing patchwork of colours. How wonderful God's creation seems, clad in the colours of Autumn.
Yet those colours represent also the beginning of the end: the leaves fall, plants die and decay, and soon will come the starkness of bare branches and lifeless cold of winter. Our faith journey too has times of coldness, and bleak outlook.
But amidst the impending death of Autumn, there is the hope of new life. Fruit and seeds in abundance contain the spark of what is to come when the world once more turns to spring.
Lord Jesus, we remember the Autumn of your ministry; the time in Jerusalem when new colours appeared: purple, crimson, scarlet. We remember the disciples, afraid in the stark winter following your death.
But we rejoice in the glorious spring of your resurrection, for the seeds you had already planted in the Autumn time, and for being able ourselves to look beyond our winter to the promise of your advent in our world.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
When Technology goes bad....
Yesterday I was leading devotions for the Circuit Staff Meeting. Or, correction, I was supposed to be leading devotions. With a screen and projector available, I'd done everything on the computer as a presentation - only for the Laptop to decide to throw a wobbly: I've fixed it now, but it took a couple of hours of fiddling as the user profiles had become corrupt and unless you went on in Safe Mode, all you saw was a black screen... given the sound didn't work in safe mode - or the video out - this meant using my own machine wasn't an option.
The problem though was exacerbated by the fact that the presentation I had so carefully crafted was done in OpenOffice Impress.
First of all, let me say that in general I'm all for Open Software. I have an old laptop that would otherwise be useless configured with Ubuntu Linux, and when I upgraded computers back in January I decided to try and live without Microsoft Office and have been using OpenOffice and LibreOffice almost exclusively ever since; and if a Church is looking to do more in terms of projection during Worship but hasn't got the budget for the likes of EasyWorship, then I'd recommend having a look at OpenLP which I have also been experimenting with recently.
Sadly, in my opinion Impress - the Presentation package in Open/LibreOffice - has a particular major flaw that is likely to mean that I head back to MS Office and in particular Powerpoint sooner rather than later. This is the flaw that compounded the problems I had yesterday: that the way Impress handles media files automatically makes it so much harder to transfer a presentation to another computer.
This isn't a new problem and in some ways this makes matters worse: it's known about, and yet nothing has been done to improve the situation.
What happens is that you insert pictures, music, maybe a video into your presentation - and Impress, rather than creating a huge file, saves instead links to the files you are using. As soon as you then copy the presentation to another computer, the links don't work - unless you spend the extra time putting all the files needed into the same directory, and transfer that along with the presentation. This seems to happen even if you try and export the presentation in another format (such as Powerpoint) - and it meant that yesterday, even though I could copy the presentation to another computer, I couldn't use it as most of the pictures and all of the music and video just didn't show up. To be fair, this can be a problem with standard Powerpoint files too - but Powerpoint can at least create a version that includes all of the media using the Package for CD option - Impress just doesn't.
The problem though was exacerbated by the fact that the presentation I had so carefully crafted was done in OpenOffice Impress.
First of all, let me say that in general I'm all for Open Software. I have an old laptop that would otherwise be useless configured with Ubuntu Linux, and when I upgraded computers back in January I decided to try and live without Microsoft Office and have been using OpenOffice and LibreOffice almost exclusively ever since; and if a Church is looking to do more in terms of projection during Worship but hasn't got the budget for the likes of EasyWorship, then I'd recommend having a look at OpenLP which I have also been experimenting with recently.
Sadly, in my opinion Impress - the Presentation package in Open/LibreOffice - has a particular major flaw that is likely to mean that I head back to MS Office and in particular Powerpoint sooner rather than later. This is the flaw that compounded the problems I had yesterday: that the way Impress handles media files automatically makes it so much harder to transfer a presentation to another computer.
This isn't a new problem and in some ways this makes matters worse: it's known about, and yet nothing has been done to improve the situation.
What happens is that you insert pictures, music, maybe a video into your presentation - and Impress, rather than creating a huge file, saves instead links to the files you are using. As soon as you then copy the presentation to another computer, the links don't work - unless you spend the extra time putting all the files needed into the same directory, and transfer that along with the presentation. This seems to happen even if you try and export the presentation in another format (such as Powerpoint) - and it meant that yesterday, even though I could copy the presentation to another computer, I couldn't use it as most of the pictures and all of the music and video just didn't show up. To be fair, this can be a problem with standard Powerpoint files too - but Powerpoint can at least create a version that includes all of the media using the Package for CD option - Impress just doesn't.
Monday, 17 October 2011
Reflectionary: Ends and Means (Matthew 22:34-46 and 1 Thess. 2:1-8)
When I looked at these readings, there was something that leapt out at me, possibly because as well that with the recent weeks of the lectionary following the debate between Jesus and the different groups in the Jewish hierarchy, it's an issue that has been brought to the fore.
That thing was purity of purpose and also action, and my immediate response was to compare this to the works of John le Carre: with the recent film of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy I have revisted not just the main three Smiley novels, but also the earlier The Spy who came in from the cold. One of the striking things about these Cold War era novels (which, don't forget, were written by someone who was an insider having worked for MI5 and MI6) is that they dispell any illusions about the Western intelligence operations being particularly any more moral than those of their Soviet counterparts. What mattered was not the means, but the ends: the gaining of the intelligence needed by the Western Governments. Blackmail, the encouragement of disloyalty, the creation of suspicion, making alliances with those who are at best distasteful and at worst downright evil because they suit their purposes. In a way, this hidden world - still in many cases unknown to us - that had the tacit approval of governments of all stripes is a proof of the maxim that the ends justify almost any means.
It happens more widely than that of course. In some cases, it is almost expected that people will be dishonest to get what they want. We've just had something through about applying for a school place for our youngest: how many stories will there be, this year, of people trying to game the system to get their child into the best school? How many insurance claims will be padded?
And yet this is not God's way. Jesus has been angry with his questioners, and is still angry here: because they wish him to say something controversial, because they are not actually interested in his answers, because they wish to try and twist God's word and bend it to their own purposes.
On this latter point, we have to admit that Christians have a far from unblemished record. God's word has been used to justify all manner of things that reflect very badly on the faith: from wars to institutional inequality to failing to protect the vulnerable, there has been (and sadly in many cases continues to be) a use of scripture to justify what should not have been tolerated.
Nevertheless, we are encouraged to be prepared to follow Christ and be pure in motive and action - even when that leads us into uncomfortable places. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians of how he and his companions, in spite of how they had been treated as Phillippi, still went out and boldy proclaimed their message in Thessalonica.
So are our motives pure? Are mine? Lord have mercy on us, for the times when we fail to be true about our motives, pure in our actions, and honourable in our methods.....
That thing was purity of purpose and also action, and my immediate response was to compare this to the works of John le Carre: with the recent film of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy I have revisted not just the main three Smiley novels, but also the earlier The Spy who came in from the cold. One of the striking things about these Cold War era novels (which, don't forget, were written by someone who was an insider having worked for MI5 and MI6) is that they dispell any illusions about the Western intelligence operations being particularly any more moral than those of their Soviet counterparts. What mattered was not the means, but the ends: the gaining of the intelligence needed by the Western Governments. Blackmail, the encouragement of disloyalty, the creation of suspicion, making alliances with those who are at best distasteful and at worst downright evil because they suit their purposes. In a way, this hidden world - still in many cases unknown to us - that had the tacit approval of governments of all stripes is a proof of the maxim that the ends justify almost any means.
It happens more widely than that of course. In some cases, it is almost expected that people will be dishonest to get what they want. We've just had something through about applying for a school place for our youngest: how many stories will there be, this year, of people trying to game the system to get their child into the best school? How many insurance claims will be padded?
And yet this is not God's way. Jesus has been angry with his questioners, and is still angry here: because they wish him to say something controversial, because they are not actually interested in his answers, because they wish to try and twist God's word and bend it to their own purposes.
On this latter point, we have to admit that Christians have a far from unblemished record. God's word has been used to justify all manner of things that reflect very badly on the faith: from wars to institutional inequality to failing to protect the vulnerable, there has been (and sadly in many cases continues to be) a use of scripture to justify what should not have been tolerated.
Nevertheless, we are encouraged to be prepared to follow Christ and be pure in motive and action - even when that leads us into uncomfortable places. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians of how he and his companions, in spite of how they had been treated as Phillippi, still went out and boldy proclaimed their message in Thessalonica.
So are our motives pure? Are mine? Lord have mercy on us, for the times when we fail to be true about our motives, pure in our actions, and honourable in our methods.....
Tuesday, 27 September 2011
Reflectionary: Challenging Authority (Matthew 21:33-46)
One of the first points to make about this reading is that it's well worth putting it into context - specifically last week's reading where the Chief Priests and Elders question Jesus' authority. Jesus has already accused them of not listening to his message - of not recognising where he comes from - now, he questions their own authority and in fact tells them that they are setting themselves against God.
It's tempting - and far too easy - to simply see this as Matthew attacking the Jewish Authorities. After all, isn't this a clear parallel - God as the Vineyard Owner, them as the tenants, the prophets as the servants and then of course Jesus himself the son who is killed? That's certainly one way of looking at it - but the problem I have with this as a preacher is that it runs the risk of coming across as self-congratulatory - that we've got it right, and the temple authorities (not the whole Jewish nation, after all at this point almost all of Jesus' followers are Jewish) have got it wrong, have set themselves against God.
In some ways the thing I want to do is to take this story on, broaden it, turn it into a challenge. Who are the tenants? In context, the Temple Authorities, but if we say God created all of us, then are we not all those tenants? Is it not all of us who have set ourselves against God, who tend not to listen when God calls us, who in fact rely on the reconciling grace of God that Jesus shows us?
And let's take it a step further. This started off about authority, and it should also speak about authority now. It is a challenge to all church leaders, of whatever stripe: are you open to the promptings of God, are you willing to see God doing something different, challenging your understanding? David Lose points out that this passage has been used in part for self-justification by the church - we're following Christ so we know we're right and the others are wrong - but it can also say to us the opposite: God works with and through those who are open to Him, and that sometimes means challenging the established ways of doing things in "The Church". Martin Luther challenged the church. John Wesley challenged the church. So did many others. And in many cases the challenged institution tried to cast them out, silence them, marginalise them. Yet, because they were open to what God wanted them to do, the work they did prospered and continues to this day.
As an institution the Methodist Church is having a bit of a look at itself at the moment, looking at how it can almost get back to its roots - become, as the General Secretary Martyn Atkins put it in his report to Conference, A Discipleship Movement shaped for Mission. My hope and prayer, in the light of this passage from Matthew, is that in doing so we are showing a willingness for the institution I am part of to engage with what God is doing, and be part of it - to not be interested merely in keeping hold of what we have, but to recognise that if we are to be good tenants then we have to listen to what God is telling us and then act upon it. The delight is, as David Lose goes on to say in his article, that God doesn't come and condemn his tenants - us - for going the wrong way, doing the wrong things, but in fact keeps coming to us again and again, prompting us and encouraging us to respond. The resurrection is part of this, and so too is the Holy Spirit: God wants us to join with Him, and He never stops giving us the opportunity to do so.
It's tempting - and far too easy - to simply see this as Matthew attacking the Jewish Authorities. After all, isn't this a clear parallel - God as the Vineyard Owner, them as the tenants, the prophets as the servants and then of course Jesus himself the son who is killed? That's certainly one way of looking at it - but the problem I have with this as a preacher is that it runs the risk of coming across as self-congratulatory - that we've got it right, and the temple authorities (not the whole Jewish nation, after all at this point almost all of Jesus' followers are Jewish) have got it wrong, have set themselves against God.
In some ways the thing I want to do is to take this story on, broaden it, turn it into a challenge. Who are the tenants? In context, the Temple Authorities, but if we say God created all of us, then are we not all those tenants? Is it not all of us who have set ourselves against God, who tend not to listen when God calls us, who in fact rely on the reconciling grace of God that Jesus shows us?
And let's take it a step further. This started off about authority, and it should also speak about authority now. It is a challenge to all church leaders, of whatever stripe: are you open to the promptings of God, are you willing to see God doing something different, challenging your understanding? David Lose points out that this passage has been used in part for self-justification by the church - we're following Christ so we know we're right and the others are wrong - but it can also say to us the opposite: God works with and through those who are open to Him, and that sometimes means challenging the established ways of doing things in "The Church". Martin Luther challenged the church. John Wesley challenged the church. So did many others. And in many cases the challenged institution tried to cast them out, silence them, marginalise them. Yet, because they were open to what God wanted them to do, the work they did prospered and continues to this day.
As an institution the Methodist Church is having a bit of a look at itself at the moment, looking at how it can almost get back to its roots - become, as the General Secretary Martyn Atkins put it in his report to Conference, A Discipleship Movement shaped for Mission. My hope and prayer, in the light of this passage from Matthew, is that in doing so we are showing a willingness for the institution I am part of to engage with what God is doing, and be part of it - to not be interested merely in keeping hold of what we have, but to recognise that if we are to be good tenants then we have to listen to what God is telling us and then act upon it. The delight is, as David Lose goes on to say in his article, that God doesn't come and condemn his tenants - us - for going the wrong way, doing the wrong things, but in fact keeps coming to us again and again, prompting us and encouraging us to respond. The resurrection is part of this, and so too is the Holy Spirit: God wants us to join with Him, and He never stops giving us the opportunity to do so.
Thursday, 22 September 2011
Reflectionary: Questioning Jesus (Mt 21:23-32)
This isn't necessarily what i will preach about on Sunday, but it does give an idea of where my thoughts are going. If it seems a little disjointed, that's because really it's still a work in progress....
You can argue that asking questions is fundamental to who we are. It's a skill that we learn early on, and the key to so much learning is by being prepared to ask questions.
The problem with questions can sometimes be the answers - or, to be more to the point, the temptation to give answers that do not present a full answer to the question. It's sometimes thought that an essential skill for politicians for example is managing to avoid giving a meaningful answer to an awkward question - and so the answer given obscures the true one, or attempts to argue that if there is a fault it is actually with the question asked.
Sometimes answers can be misleading because they are not complete answers. Anyone with children or experience of them will know that when you are continually asked why something is so, or why or how something happens, and each new answer becomes the source of a new question ad infinitum, the temptation is to try and find a way of ceasing the questions with a pat answer - "it just does", "Because", or similar. Some answers are simplifications, a way of trying to offer a partial explanation because the full answer is deemed too difficult; how many schoolchildren are taught Newton's Laws of motion without it being explained that actually these are a low speed approximation - that actually relativistic motion is the way to go and it's just that because unless you're travelling at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light the other factors are close to zero that you can use Newton's laws for most calculations?
Over at Working Preacher Karl Jacobson makes the point that a lot of people ask questions of Jesus - his followers, John the Baptist, the Jewish Authorities, even Pilate. But in most cases the reason for the question is to serve some sort of self-interest - that the questions are often, as in this reading, loaded questions that are designed not to find something out, but to make a point - whether that is to say "look, I'm a really good follower", or to try and get Jesus to say something controversial.
The Chief Priests and Elders are trying to provoke Jesus, trying to make him take a position that sets him against them - and in doing so allows them to diminish his claims. He threatens their authority: they want to call him out. However, they find themselves asked a question that they dare not answer.
One of the points about the question Jesus asks is that it is not merely a way of avoiding their question: it is a clear indication to them that he is indeed the one that John prophesied about. The Priests and Elders dare not attack John; Jesus then uses the parable to accuse them of not actually doing more than pay lip-service to the message of repentance John gave, and that those who would be thought of as having no place with God had in fact demonstrated their desire to be a part of God's Kingdom by their actions.
Faith isn't about not asking questions. It's about asking the right sort of questions, and being prepared to listen to the answers. I do not believe in a God that demands that I accept everything unquestioningly; I do believe in a God that sometimes gives me answers I don't like!
You can argue that asking questions is fundamental to who we are. It's a skill that we learn early on, and the key to so much learning is by being prepared to ask questions.
The problem with questions can sometimes be the answers - or, to be more to the point, the temptation to give answers that do not present a full answer to the question. It's sometimes thought that an essential skill for politicians for example is managing to avoid giving a meaningful answer to an awkward question - and so the answer given obscures the true one, or attempts to argue that if there is a fault it is actually with the question asked.
Sometimes answers can be misleading because they are not complete answers. Anyone with children or experience of them will know that when you are continually asked why something is so, or why or how something happens, and each new answer becomes the source of a new question ad infinitum, the temptation is to try and find a way of ceasing the questions with a pat answer - "it just does", "Because", or similar. Some answers are simplifications, a way of trying to offer a partial explanation because the full answer is deemed too difficult; how many schoolchildren are taught Newton's Laws of motion without it being explained that actually these are a low speed approximation - that actually relativistic motion is the way to go and it's just that because unless you're travelling at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light the other factors are close to zero that you can use Newton's laws for most calculations?
Over at Working Preacher Karl Jacobson makes the point that a lot of people ask questions of Jesus - his followers, John the Baptist, the Jewish Authorities, even Pilate. But in most cases the reason for the question is to serve some sort of self-interest - that the questions are often, as in this reading, loaded questions that are designed not to find something out, but to make a point - whether that is to say "look, I'm a really good follower", or to try and get Jesus to say something controversial.
The Chief Priests and Elders are trying to provoke Jesus, trying to make him take a position that sets him against them - and in doing so allows them to diminish his claims. He threatens their authority: they want to call him out. However, they find themselves asked a question that they dare not answer.
One of the points about the question Jesus asks is that it is not merely a way of avoiding their question: it is a clear indication to them that he is indeed the one that John prophesied about. The Priests and Elders dare not attack John; Jesus then uses the parable to accuse them of not actually doing more than pay lip-service to the message of repentance John gave, and that those who would be thought of as having no place with God had in fact demonstrated their desire to be a part of God's Kingdom by their actions.
Faith isn't about not asking questions. It's about asking the right sort of questions, and being prepared to listen to the answers. I do not believe in a God that demands that I accept everything unquestioningly; I do believe in a God that sometimes gives me answers I don't like!
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Reflectionary: The workers in the Vineyard
Based on Matthew 20:1-16. Rather than a sermon this week, I decided to do something a little different - more in the style of a meditation. Maybe I'll post a comment telling people how it goes.....
I am going to try and take you back through time, back more than 2000 years, and tell you a story. It may well never have happened, but that doesn't mean that it's not true: for this is one of the stories that Jesus used to tell his listeners what God is like. Before us is a man, a working man much like any other.....
At the time, I was so angry. I couldn't understand why someone could be so unfair. You might laugh now, tell me that I had no right, but you weren't the one who was there and I was.
It was a hot day, and I stood at the hiring place hoping that I would be one of the lucky ones. Work is hard to come by, and if I don't work, I don't eat - and neither do my family. This day, I was lucky: a day's work in the Vineyard, picking the fruit. Off we went, and because we knew it was easy to replace us, we got on with it. There was plenty to do - it was a big vineyard. A long day's work in the heat of the sun lay ahead of us - but the reward, the wages, would be worth it.
You have to get a harvest in quickly, so it wasn't a big surprise when in the middle of the morning a few more came in to work; there was still plenty to do, and as lunchtime came and then mid-afternoon, more workers arrived. I felt a bit sorry for them - half a wage may be better than none, but too many half wages and you'll soon feel the hunger in your belly.
It was coming to the end of the day when even more arrived; it hardly seemed worth their while coming, they were only there for about an hour. Still, you don't turn down work if you want to eat, even if an hour's wage will only buy you enough for one small meal.
When they went up to collect their wages though, they got given a full day's wage. As one of the first hired, I couldn't help but think about what was coming to me: if that was what they got for one hour, surely I'd be getting enough to feed the family for a week. I started working it out: what I would buy, where I would keep the rest of the money, whether I was going to let myself have a day off sometime soon or just use it as a backup in case i didn't get hired.
One days wage. One lousy, mean, day's wage - exactly the same as the ones who'd stood around for most of the day got. All that work, the sun beating down, and I got the same as someone who had worked for an hour. How can you tell me that's fair?
The problem was, I'd agreed to it. As he pointed out when I complained, I hadn't been cheated by him - I'd got exactly what was promised. It was tempting to think that I should have just hung around waiting for evening before getting hired, but it doesn't work like that - you have to take what you can, when you can. Even so, I thought I had good reason to be unhappy.
I took my wages and walked away, heading for home. As I walked, lost in my own thoughts, I barely noticed until I bumped into him one of those who'd worked for an hour. To my amazement, he was crying; not in pain, but in joy. I didn't know him, but I had seen him around; a small bloke, a bit older, one of the ones that sometimes didn't get hired because the landowners want the strongest, fittest and youngest workers. He was speechless with the joy of what he had been given. And then I remembered the time last year when no-one hired me for a whole week, of the despair, the wondering why I wasn't being picked. And the joy when someone finally gave me a job. And do you know something? I cried too.
I am going to try and take you back through time, back more than 2000 years, and tell you a story. It may well never have happened, but that doesn't mean that it's not true: for this is one of the stories that Jesus used to tell his listeners what God is like. Before us is a man, a working man much like any other.....
At the time, I was so angry. I couldn't understand why someone could be so unfair. You might laugh now, tell me that I had no right, but you weren't the one who was there and I was.
It was a hot day, and I stood at the hiring place hoping that I would be one of the lucky ones. Work is hard to come by, and if I don't work, I don't eat - and neither do my family. This day, I was lucky: a day's work in the Vineyard, picking the fruit. Off we went, and because we knew it was easy to replace us, we got on with it. There was plenty to do - it was a big vineyard. A long day's work in the heat of the sun lay ahead of us - but the reward, the wages, would be worth it.
You have to get a harvest in quickly, so it wasn't a big surprise when in the middle of the morning a few more came in to work; there was still plenty to do, and as lunchtime came and then mid-afternoon, more workers arrived. I felt a bit sorry for them - half a wage may be better than none, but too many half wages and you'll soon feel the hunger in your belly.
It was coming to the end of the day when even more arrived; it hardly seemed worth their while coming, they were only there for about an hour. Still, you don't turn down work if you want to eat, even if an hour's wage will only buy you enough for one small meal.
When they went up to collect their wages though, they got given a full day's wage. As one of the first hired, I couldn't help but think about what was coming to me: if that was what they got for one hour, surely I'd be getting enough to feed the family for a week. I started working it out: what I would buy, where I would keep the rest of the money, whether I was going to let myself have a day off sometime soon or just use it as a backup in case i didn't get hired.
One days wage. One lousy, mean, day's wage - exactly the same as the ones who'd stood around for most of the day got. All that work, the sun beating down, and I got the same as someone who had worked for an hour. How can you tell me that's fair?
The problem was, I'd agreed to it. As he pointed out when I complained, I hadn't been cheated by him - I'd got exactly what was promised. It was tempting to think that I should have just hung around waiting for evening before getting hired, but it doesn't work like that - you have to take what you can, when you can. Even so, I thought I had good reason to be unhappy.
I took my wages and walked away, heading for home. As I walked, lost in my own thoughts, I barely noticed until I bumped into him one of those who'd worked for an hour. To my amazement, he was crying; not in pain, but in joy. I didn't know him, but I had seen him around; a small bloke, a bit older, one of the ones that sometimes didn't get hired because the landowners want the strongest, fittest and youngest workers. He was speechless with the joy of what he had been given. And then I remembered the time last year when no-one hired me for a whole week, of the despair, the wondering why I wasn't being picked. And the joy when someone finally gave me a job. And do you know something? I cried too.
Saturday, 3 September 2011
Job Advert: Or, the importance of reading between the lines
Inspired by what this afternoon has held for me....
"An exciting opportunity has arisen to work pastorally alongside the Minister. You will be working in a fruitful field, helping the Minister in Worship Preparation and work with young people. You will be fully equipped for your task, and need to demonstrate the ability to 'run the race before you' no matter what. An attention to detail will be crucial."
Translation: The Minister needs someone to come and cut the grass at the Manse. It's a big lawn, and it grows quick. If you can come and do it every week it will mean that he can get on with Sunday's service or maybe go out with the kids. The Lawn mower is in the shed. Don't leave it half done even if it starts raining. Oh, and there's a strimmer in there as well.
"An exciting opportunity has arisen to work pastorally alongside the Minister. You will be working in a fruitful field, helping the Minister in Worship Preparation and work with young people. You will be fully equipped for your task, and need to demonstrate the ability to 'run the race before you' no matter what. An attention to detail will be crucial."
Translation: The Minister needs someone to come and cut the grass at the Manse. It's a big lawn, and it grows quick. If you can come and do it every week it will mean that he can get on with Sunday's service or maybe go out with the kids. The Lawn mower is in the shed. Don't leave it half done even if it starts raining. Oh, and there's a strimmer in there as well.
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Praying for Peace in Manchester
After Tuesday night's riots and Wednesday's Cleanup in Central Manchester, the rain seemed to have washed away the desire to riot on Wednesday Evening; it's rained during today (Thursday) as well, but that didn't stop a group of people meeting up at Piccadilly Gardens just after 5pm this evening.
There was some milling around, people talking to those they knew, a sense of anticipation as the police watched on. And then, the events got underway.
It started with a man and woman addressing the crowd, and leaflets being handed out. Suddenly the group had purpose, and as we stood there we said together a prayer for peace, and sang a song - modified for the occasion by the writer, Shirley Erena Murray, who is based in New Zealand - the words of which can be found here.
The group - about 60 strong - had come together through Faith Network 4 Manchester and included members of several different Christian groups, Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, Buddhists, Quakers, and others of different faiths - or even no faith at all. (For a few pictures see here.) It gathered as a response to the riots - not to campaign against them, but to do something positive by showing that people of different faiths can stand together in the cause of peace.
After singing, and joining together in a large circle, people talked. Whatever our faith or ethnic backgrounds, we had gathered to make common purpose and at least in the conversations I was part of and heard, there was plenty of tolerance and mutual respect - the way it should be.
Going into Manchester for the first time since the rioting was a bit strange. I parked at Printworks, my normal spot, and everything seemed pretty normal - more police than normal, but the Arndale was still open and everything looked intact until I reached Jessops. I didn't get the chance to play tourist and gawp at Oldham Street or Miss Selfridge, but those involved in the cleanup seem to have done a good job. The police presence was noticable as you'd expect, and at the time of writing there seems to have been little further trouble. I can't claim any credit for that - I suspect the weather and the police presence has been more in any rioters mind than the presence of a bunch of religious people hanging around Piccadilly Gardens - but if nothing else it's a sign that some of the things that may be thought to divide us need not do so, and a positive message - a message of people working together for peace - has been seen where two nights ago violence and disorder ruled the roost.
There was some milling around, people talking to those they knew, a sense of anticipation as the police watched on. And then, the events got underway.
It started with a man and woman addressing the crowd, and leaflets being handed out. Suddenly the group had purpose, and as we stood there we said together a prayer for peace, and sang a song - modified for the occasion by the writer, Shirley Erena Murray, who is based in New Zealand - the words of which can be found here.
The group - about 60 strong - had come together through Faith Network 4 Manchester and included members of several different Christian groups, Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, Buddhists, Quakers, and others of different faiths - or even no faith at all. (For a few pictures see here.) It gathered as a response to the riots - not to campaign against them, but to do something positive by showing that people of different faiths can stand together in the cause of peace.
After singing, and joining together in a large circle, people talked. Whatever our faith or ethnic backgrounds, we had gathered to make common purpose and at least in the conversations I was part of and heard, there was plenty of tolerance and mutual respect - the way it should be.
Going into Manchester for the first time since the rioting was a bit strange. I parked at Printworks, my normal spot, and everything seemed pretty normal - more police than normal, but the Arndale was still open and everything looked intact until I reached Jessops. I didn't get the chance to play tourist and gawp at Oldham Street or Miss Selfridge, but those involved in the cleanup seem to have done a good job. The police presence was noticable as you'd expect, and at the time of writing there seems to have been little further trouble. I can't claim any credit for that - I suspect the weather and the police presence has been more in any rioters mind than the presence of a bunch of religious people hanging around Piccadilly Gardens - but if nothing else it's a sign that some of the things that may be thought to divide us need not do so, and a positive message - a message of people working together for peace - has been seen where two nights ago violence and disorder ruled the roost.
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Baptism, Communion, and Technology
This morning saw me, for the first time, trying to combine a Baptism and Communion. In hindsight, trying to also make this my first major use of a projector and laptop at the same church might not have been the best idea... There was however something I got right that had nothing to do with technology, and everything to do with understanding my context.
The usual congregation are, as they would say themselves, young at heart rather than in any other way. There were probably more that came for the baptism than came because they are normally there, and with a group that were not overly familiar with church, I wanted to try and avoid having too many books to juggle and pages to find. So various bits of liturgy and hymns, together with some appropriate images, were put into a 40 slide presentation to go on the projector screen that is a permanent fixture on the wall.
Unfortunately, the screen's motorised mechanism had it seemed been causing trouble - a fuse was gone, and until it was sorted then we were going to be distinctly low tech!
It was eventually sorted out, but with the limited time to set up and the family arriving it was hardly ideal preparation to lead worship. And, it turned out, there was no-one standing by to press the buttons - leaving me to try and do my best with a wireless mouse that wasn't playing nice. After the baptism itself, I gave up on the technology other than to display a couple of images. One lesson is that especially when you're working with liturgy, make sure that someone else is there to press the buttons!
Fortunately - and this may be where my experience of working with IT comes in - I was prepared for this eventuality. All the hymns were also in the hymnbooks in the pews - and all the responses were on a sheet I'd printed in sufficient quantity for people to have sight of. I didn't have to worry too much about the tech failing, and I can learn for next time. I'm already thinking that it might be better to be less ambitious - maybe a few images and the hymns is enough, as after all not everyone will always be able to read from a screen, especially when it is not ideally positioned for the task.
Where things went right was that I took a little time before Communion to explain what we were doing, why we were doing it, and how we were doing it. I didn't use theological language, I tried to pitch it at their level, and I had written my own Prayer of Thanksgiving. Many from the baptismal party came up, mostly to receive a blessing.
Afterwards, one of the regular congregation told me that I had done something out of the ordinary by explaining about Communion - something that apparently other ministers having to combine Baptism and Communion had not done at that church.
Is this true? There are many Ministers I have followed there, some of whom I know and have much respect for. Was I really the first to do this? Maybe not, but it certainly something to reflect on.
The point is that it showed the importance of context. I was very aware of the lack of experience many there had of church in general and communion in particular: these days, many (if not most) only have contact with church for special occasions, and with the rise of alternate wedding venues and Crem-only funerals, often with little or no religious input, the number of those special occasions is even lower. I do not say this to bemoan the situation, it is merely an observation. So when people do come to church, one cannot assume that they know anything about what we are about, what our sacraments are for, or whether they are welcome to join in with them. This places a responsibility on those of us who lead worship on these occasions, to be prepared to explain a bit more than normal and to adjust things to a degree.
It also places another responsibility on us: to present the Good News to those who have joined us for this occasion. By having Baptism as part of a public act of worship, there is an opportunity to do this. However if people feel unwelcome, if they feel excluded because they don't understand what is going on, that opportunity could be easily lost.
The usual congregation are, as they would say themselves, young at heart rather than in any other way. There were probably more that came for the baptism than came because they are normally there, and with a group that were not overly familiar with church, I wanted to try and avoid having too many books to juggle and pages to find. So various bits of liturgy and hymns, together with some appropriate images, were put into a 40 slide presentation to go on the projector screen that is a permanent fixture on the wall.
Unfortunately, the screen's motorised mechanism had it seemed been causing trouble - a fuse was gone, and until it was sorted then we were going to be distinctly low tech!
It was eventually sorted out, but with the limited time to set up and the family arriving it was hardly ideal preparation to lead worship. And, it turned out, there was no-one standing by to press the buttons - leaving me to try and do my best with a wireless mouse that wasn't playing nice. After the baptism itself, I gave up on the technology other than to display a couple of images. One lesson is that especially when you're working with liturgy, make sure that someone else is there to press the buttons!
Fortunately - and this may be where my experience of working with IT comes in - I was prepared for this eventuality. All the hymns were also in the hymnbooks in the pews - and all the responses were on a sheet I'd printed in sufficient quantity for people to have sight of. I didn't have to worry too much about the tech failing, and I can learn for next time. I'm already thinking that it might be better to be less ambitious - maybe a few images and the hymns is enough, as after all not everyone will always be able to read from a screen, especially when it is not ideally positioned for the task.
Where things went right was that I took a little time before Communion to explain what we were doing, why we were doing it, and how we were doing it. I didn't use theological language, I tried to pitch it at their level, and I had written my own Prayer of Thanksgiving. Many from the baptismal party came up, mostly to receive a blessing.
Afterwards, one of the regular congregation told me that I had done something out of the ordinary by explaining about Communion - something that apparently other ministers having to combine Baptism and Communion had not done at that church.
Is this true? There are many Ministers I have followed there, some of whom I know and have much respect for. Was I really the first to do this? Maybe not, but it certainly something to reflect on.
The point is that it showed the importance of context. I was very aware of the lack of experience many there had of church in general and communion in particular: these days, many (if not most) only have contact with church for special occasions, and with the rise of alternate wedding venues and Crem-only funerals, often with little or no religious input, the number of those special occasions is even lower. I do not say this to bemoan the situation, it is merely an observation. So when people do come to church, one cannot assume that they know anything about what we are about, what our sacraments are for, or whether they are welcome to join in with them. This places a responsibility on those of us who lead worship on these occasions, to be prepared to explain a bit more than normal and to adjust things to a degree.
It also places another responsibility on us: to present the Good News to those who have joined us for this occasion. By having Baptism as part of a public act of worship, there is an opportunity to do this. However if people feel unwelcome, if they feel excluded because they don't understand what is going on, that opportunity could be easily lost.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
Intercessions for Sunday 24th July
Often I rely on either completely extempore prayers (though I do have a sort of structure I tend to work to) or some printed ones - in particular some from Christine Odell's Companion to the Revised Common Letionary - but tonight I've written some to use at the two services I'm taking tomorrow (Sunday). If anyone else wants to use them be my guest - all I'd ask is that you let me know that you've used them.
______________________________________________________________
We come to God knowing that through Christ, our prayers are not only heard, but also understood by one who lived our life; we ask for the Holy Spirit to show us answers, and give us wisdom and courage to accept those answers when they are not what we would wish.
Christ our Lord, you knew those who suffered, in body, mind, and spirit; you brought healing and blessing. We ask for healing and blessing for those known to us today: For.....
May they know your healing, your comfort, your power in their lives.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you created a community around you. We pray for our community here, and the wider community that we are part of; for those who lead their communities, and those of power and influence. We seek wisdom for us and for them, and we ask that your Holy Spirit will guide all in the ways of justice, peace and mercy.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you knew what it was to be hungry and thirsty. We pray for those across our world, and especially in East Africa, who are suffering and dying due to lack of food and water: for those who seek to help them, and those who have the power to decide where help is welcome. We mourn with those who mourn, and ask you to show us how we can help those in need.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you were a victim of violence and death. We pray for those who have been victims and those who mourn them: for those killed in Norway, for those in Afghanistan, and in so many other places across our world; and for those closer to home, the victims of violence and killing in our society. We look to bring a message of peace and reconciliation, and an end to violence.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you restored the faith of those who doubted. We pray for all those whose faith has been shaken by recent events, and ask that you will restore our faith and theirs.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, we thank you for hearing our prayers, for being part of our lives, and ask that through the Holy Spirit we will be able to show others how our prayers are answered. Amen.
With events in Norway unfolding, the continuing humanitarian crisis in East Africa, and closer to home the events at Stepping Hill Hospital in Stockport I wanted to make some sort of acknowledgment that there's a lot of hurt and possibly a lot of doubt - but also to frame that in the humanity of Jesus Christ, who shows us that God truly does understand our pain - and came to this earth to prove it to us.
______________________________________________________________
We come to God knowing that through Christ, our prayers are not only heard, but also understood by one who lived our life; we ask for the Holy Spirit to show us answers, and give us wisdom and courage to accept those answers when they are not what we would wish.
Christ our Lord, you knew those who suffered, in body, mind, and spirit; you brought healing and blessing. We ask for healing and blessing for those known to us today: For.....
May they know your healing, your comfort, your power in their lives.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you created a community around you. We pray for our community here, and the wider community that we are part of; for those who lead their communities, and those of power and influence. We seek wisdom for us and for them, and we ask that your Holy Spirit will guide all in the ways of justice, peace and mercy.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you knew what it was to be hungry and thirsty. We pray for those across our world, and especially in East Africa, who are suffering and dying due to lack of food and water: for those who seek to help them, and those who have the power to decide where help is welcome. We mourn with those who mourn, and ask you to show us how we can help those in need.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you were a victim of violence and death. We pray for those who have been victims and those who mourn them: for those killed in Norway, for those in Afghanistan, and in so many other places across our world; and for those closer to home, the victims of violence and killing in our society. We look to bring a message of peace and reconciliation, and an end to violence.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, you restored the faith of those who doubted. We pray for all those whose faith has been shaken by recent events, and ask that you will restore our faith and theirs.
Lord of our life
Hear our prayer
Christ our Lord, we thank you for hearing our prayers, for being part of our lives, and ask that through the Holy Spirit we will be able to show others how our prayers are answered. Amen.
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Presiding at Communion
I took bread and wine.
I gave you thanks.
I broke the bread.
I shared it with all those there.
Simple. And yet also profound.
Sunday 10th July was the first time I was able to preside at a celebration of Holy Communion. Unlike many of those ordained on that day, I had not received authorisation to preside at communion - and possibly even more unusually, the fact that I hadn't an authorisation wasn't my own choice.
Methodism in many ways contains much that is pragmatic, and one sign of this is the attitude to communion. For Methodists, typically there's one communion service per month per church; any less than that though and a Circuit can ask Conference to give an Authorisation to someone who is not an Ordained Presbyter to preside at communion. This might be a Probationer, maybe in the past a Deacon (although that's not really what Deacons are about and so it's very, very rare now), even a Lay Person - I have known all three happen. This will seem strange to those in many traditions, some (such as Roman Catholic and Anglican) unhappy about the idea of anyone other than an Ordained Presbyter involved, others (such as Baptists) wondering what all the fuss is about and why we have to have this system anyway.
For me I don't personally have a problem with this. One of the traditional (Protestant!) Marks of the Church involves proper administration of the Sacraments; I am happy to interpret this as allowing the Methodist Conference to so authorise people to preside, especially as it does take some care to ensure there is a genuine need for the requested authorisation.
This has though placed me in the position of acting as Minister of my churches for two (in one case three) years without being able to preside at Communion. I have found this something that, especially over the last few months, I have been longing to do. It has confirmed me in my calling as much as anything, and I have in some ways found it to be a gift - for I feel that I can approach this aspect of my ministry in a way that I may not have done when I started out. I have for example realised that I hold a rather higher view of the sacraments than I had previously thought - although maybe not as high as some of those within Methodism; I'm not about to join the Methodist Sacramental Fellowship for example, although I respect their position.
So when it came to Sunday it was truly a celebration. People from all three of my churches gathered together, and in the gathering it seems all found enrichment - I'm still getting comments back about how wonderful the occasion was. For me there was a sense of rightness, of doing as God has called me to do; of celebration, as I was finally able to fulfill that call; of rejoicing, that all were prepared to come together (which is for me one of the important parts of what communion is all about); but above all, that it was a fantastic opportunity to praise and worship God, and to celebrate what Christ has done for us.
I can only hope, as I prepare for a future where leading communion services will be a minimum of four times a month, that that same sense of reverence, of worship, and of sharing, will always be a part of my presiding at communion. Lord, let me never take this gift - and my calling to be the channel of it - for granted......
I gave you thanks.
I broke the bread.
I shared it with all those there.
Simple. And yet also profound.
Sunday 10th July was the first time I was able to preside at a celebration of Holy Communion. Unlike many of those ordained on that day, I had not received authorisation to preside at communion - and possibly even more unusually, the fact that I hadn't an authorisation wasn't my own choice.
Methodism in many ways contains much that is pragmatic, and one sign of this is the attitude to communion. For Methodists, typically there's one communion service per month per church; any less than that though and a Circuit can ask Conference to give an Authorisation to someone who is not an Ordained Presbyter to preside at communion. This might be a Probationer, maybe in the past a Deacon (although that's not really what Deacons are about and so it's very, very rare now), even a Lay Person - I have known all three happen. This will seem strange to those in many traditions, some (such as Roman Catholic and Anglican) unhappy about the idea of anyone other than an Ordained Presbyter involved, others (such as Baptists) wondering what all the fuss is about and why we have to have this system anyway.
For me I don't personally have a problem with this. One of the traditional (Protestant!) Marks of the Church involves proper administration of the Sacraments; I am happy to interpret this as allowing the Methodist Conference to so authorise people to preside, especially as it does take some care to ensure there is a genuine need for the requested authorisation.
This has though placed me in the position of acting as Minister of my churches for two (in one case three) years without being able to preside at Communion. I have found this something that, especially over the last few months, I have been longing to do. It has confirmed me in my calling as much as anything, and I have in some ways found it to be a gift - for I feel that I can approach this aspect of my ministry in a way that I may not have done when I started out. I have for example realised that I hold a rather higher view of the sacraments than I had previously thought - although maybe not as high as some of those within Methodism; I'm not about to join the Methodist Sacramental Fellowship for example, although I respect their position.
So when it came to Sunday it was truly a celebration. People from all three of my churches gathered together, and in the gathering it seems all found enrichment - I'm still getting comments back about how wonderful the occasion was. For me there was a sense of rightness, of doing as God has called me to do; of celebration, as I was finally able to fulfill that call; of rejoicing, that all were prepared to come together (which is for me one of the important parts of what communion is all about); but above all, that it was a fantastic opportunity to praise and worship God, and to celebrate what Christ has done for us.
I can only hope, as I prepare for a future where leading communion services will be a minimum of four times a month, that that same sense of reverence, of worship, and of sharing, will always be a part of my presiding at communion. Lord, let me never take this gift - and my calling to be the channel of it - for granted......
Thursday, 7 July 2011
Reflecting on Ordination
Last Sunday saw my calling as a Methodist Presbyter affirmed in two very important ways: First, I was Received into Full Connexion, and then, at Liverpool Cathedral, I was Ordained. At both, my calling was powerfully affirmed: the first time as all those there rose to their feet, at the second by the whole congregation saying of myself and the 12 other Ordinands, "They are worthy". Both were moments to bring a lump to the throat, and with the many people covering every aspect of my life present at Liverpool it was an experience both celebratory and humbling.
This in many ways marks the end of a long journey - and yet it also becomes the start of a new one. When I look back, the seeds of this were sown not much short of 20 years ago, while I was still a fairly recent convert to Christianity and a teenage University student; the first signs of growth came in the mid to late 1990s as I began training as a Local Preacher, being fully accredited at the end of 1999.
It was that year that I knew, beyond my own doubt, that God was calling me and what to be. It wasn't that I hadn't before, but now I couldn't ignore it. A diversion into being a Circuit Steward - and getting married! - later, and I was all ready to apply at the start of 2004.
Except I had missed the deadline for that year. So it was the autumn of 2004 when I applied, early in 2005 when I was accepted for Foundation Training, and September before I went to the first day - a Saturday at Withington, as Luther King House was booked out! There I met others who shared part or all of this journey with me. It was a joy to be ordained with one of those I met that day, but in some ways also a shame that I was unable to go and support my friend who was Ordained Deacon on the same day.
I could go on and on about the training, but suffice to say that after six years it was a great relief when the Probationers Committee passed me. I was pretty sure they would - and I even managed to get them laughing, as when invited to ask them any questions I pointed out that there was really only one I needed the answer to - "Am I in?"
Preparations had been in hand already, but the path was still not to be smooth. The venue chosen was the smallest, and the only one within walking distance of Conference; the tickets made available disappeared fast enough that no-one beyond my personal allocation (plus my in-laws who were waiting on the website as soon as it opened) was able to get any. After a short flurry of activity involving ordinands, District Chairs and others, some of us were switched to the largest venue - Liverpool Cathedral.
So much then seemed to happen that the weeks went by at a blur; then, the week before Ordination, it all had to stop as I joined the other Prebyteral Ordinands on retreat.
The Retreat was exactly what I needed: a time to stop, to reflect, and to address some of my own feelings. I'm sure that a number of us were thinking - as I did - of those that wouldn't be there on Sunday. So there was some sadness, but also much blessing: when, during a communion, you feel someone come and sit down next to you even when you know full well there is no-one physically there, when it's almost like a physical shock, and you realise that you are in Christ's presence, how can you be anything but blessed?
And then it came to Sunday. Being part of an act of worship that would recognise me for what I have been called to be, but nevertheless centred on God. That encouraged me to be fully me - fully human - in God's service. That said, as everyone stood to affirm me, that my calling is true.
Then to Liverpool, and to a venue that in itself inspires awe. Meeting up with my Assisting Minister, who, exactly 52 years after his own Ordination, was making this one of his last public acts of ministry. Meeting up with people from every aspect of my life, who had chosen to come and support me whatever their own faith (or lack of it) might be. Being walked through where to go, where to sit, when to move. Being reminded by David Wilkinson in his sermon that although unworthy by myself, I am in fact worthy because the grace of God makes me so. And even right up to the point of preparing to move to the kneeler where Neil Richardson would Ordain me, there was the part of me saying - is this really happening? Am I really about to be Ordained? How can something I've worked so hard for for so many years sneak up on me unawares?
Receiving the Stole bought for me by my wife. Sharing in Communion with about a thousand people. And then, as we walked out back to the robing room, the applause, the cheers as we were welcomed by those who came to support each of us.
It hasn't really sunk in. The implications of what happened will take me longer to work out than I will ever have.
Now, Ordained to Word and Sacrament, I am preparing to do something for the first time: Preside at a service of Holy Communion. Unlike many of my fellow Ordinands I have not had an authorisation to preside - not because I refused, but because there was not sufficient need for my Circuit to make the request. In many ways I am glad: for this first time, this special time, will be an opportunity to celebrate with my churches at the start of this new aspect of what will be my life-long ministry. It is an aspect that I have had three years in Circuit to reflect on: and I can't wait to do this for them, the thing that I know God has called me to, and through the Holy Spirit enabled me for.
This in many ways marks the end of a long journey - and yet it also becomes the start of a new one. When I look back, the seeds of this were sown not much short of 20 years ago, while I was still a fairly recent convert to Christianity and a teenage University student; the first signs of growth came in the mid to late 1990s as I began training as a Local Preacher, being fully accredited at the end of 1999.
It was that year that I knew, beyond my own doubt, that God was calling me and what to be. It wasn't that I hadn't before, but now I couldn't ignore it. A diversion into being a Circuit Steward - and getting married! - later, and I was all ready to apply at the start of 2004.
Except I had missed the deadline for that year. So it was the autumn of 2004 when I applied, early in 2005 when I was accepted for Foundation Training, and September before I went to the first day - a Saturday at Withington, as Luther King House was booked out! There I met others who shared part or all of this journey with me. It was a joy to be ordained with one of those I met that day, but in some ways also a shame that I was unable to go and support my friend who was Ordained Deacon on the same day.
I could go on and on about the training, but suffice to say that after six years it was a great relief when the Probationers Committee passed me. I was pretty sure they would - and I even managed to get them laughing, as when invited to ask them any questions I pointed out that there was really only one I needed the answer to - "Am I in?"
Preparations had been in hand already, but the path was still not to be smooth. The venue chosen was the smallest, and the only one within walking distance of Conference; the tickets made available disappeared fast enough that no-one beyond my personal allocation (plus my in-laws who were waiting on the website as soon as it opened) was able to get any. After a short flurry of activity involving ordinands, District Chairs and others, some of us were switched to the largest venue - Liverpool Cathedral.
So much then seemed to happen that the weeks went by at a blur; then, the week before Ordination, it all had to stop as I joined the other Prebyteral Ordinands on retreat.
The Retreat was exactly what I needed: a time to stop, to reflect, and to address some of my own feelings. I'm sure that a number of us were thinking - as I did - of those that wouldn't be there on Sunday. So there was some sadness, but also much blessing: when, during a communion, you feel someone come and sit down next to you even when you know full well there is no-one physically there, when it's almost like a physical shock, and you realise that you are in Christ's presence, how can you be anything but blessed?
And then it came to Sunday. Being part of an act of worship that would recognise me for what I have been called to be, but nevertheless centred on God. That encouraged me to be fully me - fully human - in God's service. That said, as everyone stood to affirm me, that my calling is true.
Then to Liverpool, and to a venue that in itself inspires awe. Meeting up with my Assisting Minister, who, exactly 52 years after his own Ordination, was making this one of his last public acts of ministry. Meeting up with people from every aspect of my life, who had chosen to come and support me whatever their own faith (or lack of it) might be. Being walked through where to go, where to sit, when to move. Being reminded by David Wilkinson in his sermon that although unworthy by myself, I am in fact worthy because the grace of God makes me so. And even right up to the point of preparing to move to the kneeler where Neil Richardson would Ordain me, there was the part of me saying - is this really happening? Am I really about to be Ordained? How can something I've worked so hard for for so many years sneak up on me unawares?
Receiving the Stole bought for me by my wife. Sharing in Communion with about a thousand people. And then, as we walked out back to the robing room, the applause, the cheers as we were welcomed by those who came to support each of us.
It hasn't really sunk in. The implications of what happened will take me longer to work out than I will ever have.
Now, Ordained to Word and Sacrament, I am preparing to do something for the first time: Preside at a service of Holy Communion. Unlike many of my fellow Ordinands I have not had an authorisation to preside - not because I refused, but because there was not sufficient need for my Circuit to make the request. In many ways I am glad: for this first time, this special time, will be an opportunity to celebrate with my churches at the start of this new aspect of what will be my life-long ministry. It is an aspect that I have had three years in Circuit to reflect on: and I can't wait to do this for them, the thing that I know God has called me to, and through the Holy Spirit enabled me for.
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Summing up - home from Conference
I've rather dipped in and out of Methodist Conference. Living an hour away and with young children, I decided to leave at Lunch on Monday, came back a similar time on Tuesday, and then left for good just as the afternoon session was starting on Wednesday. What follows is my (not always serious!) reflection on the experience.
What a Conference-goer needs
What a Conference-goer needs
1) Bionic Arms, or alternatively a course of weights. The list of things you need can be considerable, and even just the Conference Agenda weighs enough to make Ryanair unhappy with your hand luggage. Three volumes of it, plus handbook, plus report on the Anglican-Methodist Covenant progress....
2) A large bag in order to put the various papers, leaflets, and freebies thrust at you (in the case of exhibitors) or left at the back to collect (for delegates needing order papers, notice of motion papers, daily record papers and the like). The one helpfully provided is only enough if you can empty it every night into a bigger one.
3) A hole punch, to allow you to place said order papers etc. in the binder provided. You need to keep them, as the previous day's order paper can often get referred to. Also, the resulting confetti can be used to greet the new President-Designate or other dignitary.
4) A Laptop or possibly iPad, preferably with a minimum 8 hour battery life. Assuming you can actually get on to the Conference WiFi, this allows you to pull up reports etc. from the Conference Website, and also interact with the multitude via Twitter.
5) An extra brain, to allow you to interact with the multitude vie Twitter while still following what Conference is doing. How the likes of Pete Phillips manage to do so is otherwise a mystery to me.
6) A sense of humour. In fact, this is probably more important than most of the above. Things can get intense, complicated and hard to follow - the occasional flashes of humour (or in the case of David Gamble presenting the Law and Polity matters this morning, full comedy routine complete with assisting cast) leaven the whole experience into one that yes, can be enjoyed.
A little more seriously, it can be extremely hard to follow what is going on if you've never been there before. I went to the "New to Conference" session on Saturday where Toby Scott (Media Director) tried to give us a bit of an overview and some of the jargon, and without it I would soon have been lost. Even with that, the jumping around from one volume of the Agenda to another, and the fact that for one of the days I didn't have the paper with Notices of Motion on it meant that it was a constant battle to be in the right place in terms of looking at what was being discussed. The fact that the screens on either side tended to show you page numbers helped no end, but as a visitor (albeit with some extra privileges) I had no table to spread things out on meaning a constant juggling act.
I was overall pleasantly surprised by the way things worked. Toby had told us of how fast Conference can move, of how hard the delegates work, and he's right - it does move fast. At the same time this isn't necessarily at the cost of discussion - speakers may only have a very limited amount of time, but this does mean that they tend to get to the point fairly quickly, and while not every speaker was able to speak in some debates one imagines it is a long way from the times when Conference would debate an issue and then Mr. Wesley would tell them what to do from the Chair no matter what had been said. The agenda runs to more than 1000 pages, and yet by the end of tomorrow morning the vast majority of it will have been covered - and this since Monday Morning!
I have already mentioned of how the occasional bit of humour enlivens proceedings, but the other thing is that the Conference was by no means dry and dull. Substantive issues were discussed; important things about where we as Methodists are going, what we are doing, and whether we are fulfilling God's work. I came away not bored, but inspired; there are people within Methodism who burn with passion for Social Justice, Peace, Reconciliation, Equality, and many other important issues - and they are not just speaking to a group of people about them, they are doing them and encouraging the whole church to join them. We have been encouraged to stand alongside the poor, the elderly, the young; to consider how we reach out to those on the margins of the church and the society; to work not to make members to keep our churches open, but to make disciples that will likewise want to serve God's purposes. I have been inspired by the Vice-President's Sermon at the Conference Communion Service to think about creating some sort of visual (possibly video?) meditation about breadmaking. (Don't hold your breath though....)
In many ways the answer to anyone who questions the need for Conference could well be to find a way to engage with it. And that is getting easier as Conference and Delegates get a bit more tech-savvy. Now, many sessions of Conference are webcast live and can even be watched again - and the number tuning in is in the order of 150 at times. The Twitter Feed (using the tag #methconf) has been busy, with more than 100 tweeters and busy points seeing a new tweet every 17 seconds. Many of those are more likely to be observing (as I was), and it provided a sort of ongoing commentary and back channel discussion - but some delegates were also involved although as I said before how the likes of Pete Phillips, Angela Shier-Jones and others were able to do so without missing something I don't know - they have my sincere admiration on that score.
That's not to say that some things can't be done better, or more effectively; Tuesday's experiment with Electronic Voting can only be a qualified success in my opinion, as it seemed to take too long for some votes and some items - notably one where a Notice of Motion was discussed, and then split a Resolution into two parts - were unable to be voted on electronically. An Agenda that runs as long as this one is unwieldy and surely a way must be found of reducing the length - good for carbon reduction too. But Conference works, and I have enjoyed being a part of it even if only as an observer.
Maybe, when the children are a bit older, I'll look to go back as a voting member. But for now - unless it's within striking distance for me, I'll just have to watch the live stream. Roll on Plymouth in 2012!
Oh, and I seem to have left at least one mark on Conference. One of the exhibitors had a Formula 1 game set up with a steering wheel and pedals, with a prize for the "Fastest Rev". Unless someone beats it by lunch on Thursday, I have the fastest time - so I can certainly claim to be the fastest member of the 2011 Conference - virtually, anyway......
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
When is a Baptism not a Baptism? Reflection on a Conference Debate
One of the privileges of having been ordained at Conference is that you are given the opportunity to stay and watch it in action. Over the last couple of days I have been doing exactly that. And this afternoon, I found myself getting annoyed, maybe even angry.
In some ways this is a good thing as it shows that there are real issues being discussed here, things that are worth debating. However, despite a few tweets on the matter it's difficult to explain your thinking in 140 characters, so hence the first blog post for ages.
The debate in question was the one on reaffirmation of Baptismal Vows including the use of water. It may not sound a great title, but it certainly got me interested in part because it touched on something I addressed on this blog long ago - whether Baptism leaves a lasting mark.
The Faith and Order Committee seem to have done their best to provide a neutral background for the debate, and seemed to want to offer an opportunity for Conference to express its views. They also made it very clear what was being talked about here - not re-baptism, but re-affirming one's baptismal vows in a liturgy or form including water. The Conference debated, and then decided that they did wish this to be pursued - and that is where I was starting to get hot under the (clerical) collar.
There were a number of things that I wasn't convinced about during the debate, and others that were not always brought up.
First of all, where the request is coming from. Apparently it has been brought to a couple of District Chairs by Ministers who have been asked by people about being re-baptised. So the question arises out of a Pastoral concern. That's as may be, but the implication is as well as pastoral, theological - we acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins, so what would agreeing to re-baptise do? While the position on re-baptising hasn't changed and wasn't up for debate, the implication seemed to be that in order to meet this pastoral need we need to be able to offer something close enough to satisfy those that seek it - whether allowing someone to sign themselves with water from the font, or some other way.
This is not re-baptism, but one thing that does concern me is that it may be seen as such. There were mentions on Monday of how we have an internal dialogue in the Methodist Church (such as at Conference) and an external one with those outside it. Will those outside understand that this is not re-baptism? Will other Churches? I cannot answer with any confidence at all that they will. And if detailed explanations have to be made about why this isn't baptism, for me having water involved is only going to confuse matters.
What's wrong with instead working out how we explain and implement confirmation better? There is no reason why this can't be an equally powerful and spiritual experience; I found mine (at the age of 18, having been away from church for several years) to be an amazing, Spirit-filled experience.
Another point that I couldn't help but think as some speakers came forward and spoke of having to turn away people wanting to be re-baptised is that there is nothing to say that what is proposed would in any way give us something to offer them in any case. If someone comes and asks, in all earnest, to be re-baptised, and they are firm in their conviction that this is what they need to happen, we will still not be able to do as they wish.
I was also concerned about the image that was presented of people being told that we couldn't help them. I suspect that the limited time available for speakers prevented clarity on this, but nothing was said of working pastorally with those seeking re-baptism and exploring their need for and understanding of baptism.
I will look with some interest at what Pete Phillips and the Faith and Order Committee come up with, but I can't help but wish there were other options being explored - how about for example annointing someone with oil in an act of reaffirmation, healing and wholeness?
In some ways this is a good thing as it shows that there are real issues being discussed here, things that are worth debating. However, despite a few tweets on the matter it's difficult to explain your thinking in 140 characters, so hence the first blog post for ages.
The debate in question was the one on reaffirmation of Baptismal Vows including the use of water. It may not sound a great title, but it certainly got me interested in part because it touched on something I addressed on this blog long ago - whether Baptism leaves a lasting mark.
The Faith and Order Committee seem to have done their best to provide a neutral background for the debate, and seemed to want to offer an opportunity for Conference to express its views. They also made it very clear what was being talked about here - not re-baptism, but re-affirming one's baptismal vows in a liturgy or form including water. The Conference debated, and then decided that they did wish this to be pursued - and that is where I was starting to get hot under the (clerical) collar.
There were a number of things that I wasn't convinced about during the debate, and others that were not always brought up.
First of all, where the request is coming from. Apparently it has been brought to a couple of District Chairs by Ministers who have been asked by people about being re-baptised. So the question arises out of a Pastoral concern. That's as may be, but the implication is as well as pastoral, theological - we acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins, so what would agreeing to re-baptise do? While the position on re-baptising hasn't changed and wasn't up for debate, the implication seemed to be that in order to meet this pastoral need we need to be able to offer something close enough to satisfy those that seek it - whether allowing someone to sign themselves with water from the font, or some other way.
This is not re-baptism, but one thing that does concern me is that it may be seen as such. There were mentions on Monday of how we have an internal dialogue in the Methodist Church (such as at Conference) and an external one with those outside it. Will those outside understand that this is not re-baptism? Will other Churches? I cannot answer with any confidence at all that they will. And if detailed explanations have to be made about why this isn't baptism, for me having water involved is only going to confuse matters.
What's wrong with instead working out how we explain and implement confirmation better? There is no reason why this can't be an equally powerful and spiritual experience; I found mine (at the age of 18, having been away from church for several years) to be an amazing, Spirit-filled experience.
Another point that I couldn't help but think as some speakers came forward and spoke of having to turn away people wanting to be re-baptised is that there is nothing to say that what is proposed would in any way give us something to offer them in any case. If someone comes and asks, in all earnest, to be re-baptised, and they are firm in their conviction that this is what they need to happen, we will still not be able to do as they wish.
I was also concerned about the image that was presented of people being told that we couldn't help them. I suspect that the limited time available for speakers prevented clarity on this, but nothing was said of working pastorally with those seeking re-baptism and exploring their need for and understanding of baptism.
I will look with some interest at what Pete Phillips and the Faith and Order Committee come up with, but I can't help but wish there were other options being explored - how about for example annointing someone with oil in an act of reaffirmation, healing and wholeness?
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