GadgetVicar

Terri Gets Baptised

Bad Vestments

I am not renowned for my love of vestments (understatement of the century!). I have always understood that their purpose was to symbolise purity or authority or mask the personality of the individual underneath, so that the focus is on God, rather than the person. Personally, I find them to be an anachronism that might speak volumes to some of the faithful, but for many outside the church, they just make us appear even more obscure or irrelevant. Anyway, thanks to The Ugley Vicar, I've discovered Bad Vestments, a site which indicates that such attire can be truly unattractive and can also undermine any of the reasons popularly given for wearing it.

Is it time for a new department of ecclesiastical apparatchiks to be created? 'The Bad Vestment Committee', which will ensure that, if clergy must dress up, they do so with good taste.

Come, Holy Spirit - Pentecost

Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest,
and in our souls take up Thy rest;
come with Thy grace and heavenly aid
to fill the hearts which Thou hast made.

O comforter, to Thee we cry,
O heavenly gift of God Most High,
O fount of life and fire of love,
and sweet anointing from above.

Thou in Thy sevenfold gifts are known;
Thou, finger of God's hand we own;
Thou, promise of the Father, Thou
Who dost the tongue with power imbue.

Kindle our sense from above,
and make our hearts o'erflow with love;
with patience firm and virtue high
the weakness of our flesh supply.

Far from us drive the foe we dread,
and grant us Thy peace instead;
so shall we not, with Thee for guide,
turn from the path of life aside.

Oh, may Thy grace on us bestow
the Father and the Son to know;
and Thee, through endless times confessed,
of both the eternal Spirit blest.

Now to the Father and the Son,
Who rose from death, be glory given,
with Thou, O Holy Comforter,
henceforth by all in earth and heaven.
Amen.

att. Rabanus Maurus (776-856)

Ascension Day

Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch,
Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march:

My soul is envious of mine eye,
That it should soar and glide with thee so fast,
The while my grovelling thoughts half buried lie,
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste.

Chains of my heart, avaunt I say -
I will arise, and in the strength of love
Pursue the bright track ere it fade away,
My Saviour's pathway to His home above.

Sure, when I reach the point where earth
Melts into nothing from th' uncumbered sight,
Heaven will o'ercome th' attraction of my birth.
And I shall sink in yonder sea of light:

Till resting by th' incarnate LORD,
Once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake,
I mark Him, how by seraph hosts adored,
He to earth's lowest cares is still awake.

The sun and every vassal star,
All space, beyond the soar of angel wings,
Wait on His word: and yet He stays His car
For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings.

He listens to the silent tear
For all the anthems of the boundless sky -
And shall our dreams of music bar our ear
To His soul-piercing voice for ever nigh?

Nay, gracious Saviour--but as now
Our thoughts have traced Thee to Thy glory-throne
So help us evermore with thee to bow
Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan.

We must not stand to gaze too long,
Though on unfolding Heaven our gaze we bend
Where lost behind the bright angelic throng
We see CHRIST'S entering triumph slow ascend.

No fear but we shall soon behold,
Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive,
When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold
Our wasted frames feel the true sun, and live.

Then shall we see Thee as Thou art,
For ever fixed in no unfruitful gaze,
But such as lifts the new-created heart,
Age after age, in worthier love and praise.

                                                                John Keble

Bread, Wine and A Little Extra Something

If communion wine is spilled during distribution, any carpeting, table covering or clothing involved is supposed to be burned, out of reverence for Christ. Extreme, I know, but there you are.

What would you do in the following instance?

During a home communion yesterday, four of us had received the wafers. I was about to give my friends the wine, when to my horror, I discovered a huge fly right in the middle of the tiny silver chalice. It wasn't there when I'd picked up the bread, so it had obviously sneaked in while my back was turned. It must have died happy and holy. The question is, what should I have done? Carry on regardless, hoping that no-one noticed or worse still, swallowed, the fly? Fish it out, then carry on? Dispose of the wine and fly in some other way? Drink it myself, fly and all (an ecclesiastical bush tucker trial!)? Believe that because the wine is holy, even though it was contaminated it would cause no harm to anyone?

And no, I don't think the "fly in the communion" was prophetic.

Weekending

It's been a busy few days, with a visit on Friday to St Andrew's, Boness to meet with St Silas' alumnus, Albert Bogle and his multimedia team to see if there are ways churches using high tech stuff might work together. It was a joy to see how things are going there, and there is much to think about.

We tried to see Slumdog Millionaire on Friday night, but I made the stupid and elementary mistake of leaving my mobile on. Saw the first half hour, then we had to come home to show the love. Parenting does not get easier as they/we get older!

Had an early breakfast at church on Saturday morning with thirty blokes gathered to hear Ian speak about 'Heroes'. The testosterone was heavy in the air! It was great to be and think together.

Then off to Diocesan Synod. I reluctantly spoke towards the end on the subject of the Anglican Covenant. Most Piskies don't seem to want it, and I can't help but feel that it's coming from that "You're no the boss o' me!" thing that Scots are prone too. That and a fear that we might grow just a little bit more accountable and submissive to one another.

In other news, I find myself inexplicably elected to General Synod in June. Well not elected strictly speaking, as there wasn't a vote. Nonetheless, I will have to attend the three day meeting in June, which, must be because I reach the maturity of having been in holy orders for twenty one years that month.

The really big news was the announcement right at the end of business by the Primus', the Most Revd Dr Idris Jones, that he would be retiring as Bishop of Glasgow & Galloway at the end of July 2009. He spoke movingly, and it was obviously very hard to contain his feelings. A hard thing to do, but clearly it's time for him and Alison to enjoy more time with each other. Prayers and blessings as they contemplate future ministry together.

Sunday was a long day. I attended the 9am Prayer Book service. Excellent liturgy and leading, and a good sermon from someone learning the craft. A cracking All-age at 11am, with good preaching and excited kids (what a joy it is to see them enjoy being in church so much). Evening was a simple Communion. We showed clips from 1980's movie "The Mission", to illustrate wrath/forgiveness. I can't help but weep when De Niro's armour is cut from him and cast into the river.

A most helpful preaching preparation meeting this morning followed by lunch with a few Piskie colleagues. Then there will hopefully be time to listen to U2! Oh yes, for Amazon tells me the CD will arrive today.

Next weekend should be a little less frenetic. We are going to Edinburgh on Friday to see Elbow, and will probably stay in the city overnight, maybe visiting a few of our old haunts if we can. I'm looking forward to that.

 

Emma-nuel

On a very cold winter's morning, made all the chillier by our central heating timer being set for the wrong day, we gave thanks for, dedicated and prayed for a baby called Emma and her parents. As our preacher pointed out, there was a certain appropriateness in this.

Advent has arrived, and Belle & Sebastian remind us of that:

Trying

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things, despite feeling quite low. This isn't because I need to, but because I want to. An important distinction. I've been helped by the reading which one of my colleagues shared at our staff meeting this week:

1 Now Ahab told Jezebel everything Elijah had done and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. 2 So Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah to say, "May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them." 3 Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, 4 while he himself went a day's journey into the desert. He came to a broom tree, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. "I have had enough, LORD," he said. "Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors." 5 Then he lay down under the tree and fell asleep. All at once an angel touched him and said, "Get up and eat." 6 He looked around, and there by his head was a cake of bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.7 The angel of the LORD came back a second time and touched him and said, "Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you." 8 So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God. 9 There he went into a cave and spent the night.
                                                                                                                                    1 Kings 19:1-9

It reminded me that rest is important when under extreme pressure, that the Lord provides, and that it's alright to say what you are feeling to God. That has helped.

Yesterday was a day of Eucharists. I was asked to help out at another church in the morning to preside and preach at a communion service. It is a congregation very much in the Anglo-Catholic tradition, and I'm always worried that I'll get the gear wrong or do something that upsets everyone, but they are a warm and welcoming bunch who need a little TLC, and I've enjoyed my visits there. They even appeared to forgive the fact that in my rush to get the children out to school, I forgot to exchange my training shoes for black boots. I apologise profusely to all readers who are mortally offended by such attire (you know who you are!).

In the afternoon, it was off to Strathblane for a communion gathering of some of our senior members. We've met like this for over ten years and there is an easy familiarity with one another (characterised by the gentle 'slagging off' we conduct on one another - a sign of deep love in our context, I think). I did rather too much talking yesterday, though these wonderful women didn't seem to mind and ministered God's love to me so beautifully. It's always a privilege to share in such occasions

Today, I'm fulfilling a speaking engagement at Holy Trinity Church in St Andrews with a group of pastors and academics on "Handling ethical and ecclesial issues". Tonight, I'll enjoy the hospitality of friends who helped me come to faith in Jesus way back in 1980. Slightly daunted at doing this trip, but feeling it's a God-given opportunity to escape for a day.

Making An Entrance

We don't do processions at St Silas'. Nor do we do this (and don't get any ideas, musos!):

From here.

Two moments on a Saturday morning

On TitusONENine, my dear music-loving and wordsmithing priest friend from South Carolina, John Barr, has written beautifully about the consecration of their new bishop last Saturday. If you read this post, John, get yourself over here for a visit to the Ben Nevis.........

There are two moments from Saturday’s marvelous consecration which marked me most and stand truest to my heart—neither of which would ever have been envisioned by the planners as “big hit moments.” The first was standing under the huge tent in front of the cathedral with tangled battalions of deaneries, the place aglow with catcalls and glad reunions and silliness and snarled vestments. What was really happening? It struck me as a supreme time of expectant hopefulness. Life in Christ rides on the rails of relationships, and I stopped to look around and was hit by the intense joy of being together, the gratitude of getting to be with these folks. The wait in the wind and cold for over an hour could have gone on and on. God is in control; Jesus has risen; he won’t go back into the tomb; this is fun. On into Galilee.

And the second was this: Bishop Mark was well on his way in the Eucharistic Prayer, his first celebration ever as our Episcopal leader. Somewhere on his way through those words that silence happened. It was the sort of silence which you know immediately is unplanned, which says something’s not right; hurry up; the world is about to crash. But no, it went on. Then Mark said: Where are we? He had lost his place. I heard a quick, gentle laugh. It was not the laughter of derision or embarrassment, but the laughter of relief. I immediately thought how many times I had lost my place, and I loved Mark even more already. But then a priest kneeling beside me whispered: This is good. And an invisible window of grace opened. Somewhere in Auden’s Christmas Oratorio the lines came to me (I had to look them up): Though written by thy children with a smudged and crooked line, thy Word is ever legible.

That was the truest bridge over which Christ’s grace crossed to me on my Saturday. I loved all the pageantry, the color of bishops processing, the long procession of international visitors, the seamless planning, incredible music; I loved the guys marching in who looked like they came out of a Dickens novel—that we offer our best. Yet strangely, it was not our best that got me, but the reality that God takes the flawed and smudged lines of our crooked witness and writes his Word through us. He loves it when we get lost and then finds us. Truly in our weakness, Christ makes himself strong, even on Consecration day. I will always remember it kneeling there, lost and found, laughter and grace.

The Rev. Rev. Dr. John Barr III is rector, Church of the Holy Comforter, Sumter, South Carolina