Edge of the Centre

Pilgrim continues his way

2010-04-21T16:06:00.008Z

Thank you for following the Edge of the Centre trail this far. If you want to keep in touch with all that happens as we journey into retirement, click on the following name link to visit my new blog. It's called 'West of the Centre'

Farewell Sunday

2010-04-19T20:26:00.005Z

It was pretty late by the time I got to bed after yesterday's banquet. With no eight o' clock to get up for, I slept in and arrived at church rather too late for my own comfort, as there's always an assortment of pre-service checks to do before getting started. I was amazed that there were so many people there, and few missing who'd been there late last night. There were over seventy of us in church, as many as on Easter Day, an occasion to thank God, after thanking each other last night for the many blessings of years shared together.

I preached around the St John's resurrection Gospel text in which Jesus says to Peter "When you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go." It's one of the few references to the trials of old age in the New Testament, and it gave me an opportunity to make some special affirmations about this remarkable community of elders who give so much of themselves in faithful witness to Christ and his church.

There was a special 'retirement cake' for everyone to share after the service, which was a great pleasure, and then many farewells. Nevertheless I couldn't help being struck by the thought that this time, the first time in forty five years of life together, we are not moving on, but staying here in Cardiff. This is finally the place where we settle down and make our home. There are people in a small city that we will see again quite often, out and about, such is the nature of the place. The relationship will change, of course, once they have a new Vicar, but bonds of affection shared by mature people are such that change very little, regardless of circumstances.

So, although I am leaving the job and the role I have occupied, we are paradoxically coming to rest rather than moving on. And that's something I have longed for this past few years in a way I never imagined, having been such an energetically restless soul all my working life, always wondering where I am meant to be and what I am meant to be doing there. I don't know what the future entails. Once we've moved, life, limitations notwithstanding will be a skyline of opportunities for adventure and creativity - and to do new things in exploring the depths of God. So I didn't feel sad, as much as in awe of the occasion, of this new beginning. As Nicodemus once said: "Can someone be born again when they are old?"

After lunch I went out and did two out of the three home communions I was committed to do post Easter, and have avoided doing so far, because of my nasty fluey cold. Then I popped in and had tea and a chat with Percy and Alwena before returning to church for the second Evensong of the weekend, a lovely quiet and ordinary way to conclude a final day of ministry before moving on into retirement, feeling very blessed indeed.

During the day several times I recalled the painful end of my ministry on the Côte d'Azur, where I was compelled to move on to make it possible for the Bishop to deal with unresolved conflict between the diocese and the chaplaincy. At my last service with the little congregation I had gathered in the Bordighera cemetery chapel over a nine month period from the remains of a congregation scattered due to closure of the San Remo Church, I broke down and wept after the final blessing, overwhelmed with sadness. There was no way of knowing if it would continue - this small enterprise which I cherished during dark and disturbing times with the Monaco congregation. Happily, eight years on, that congregation still meets for worship.

I returned to the diocese, and six months later was welcomed into St John's, overjoyed to be entrusted with a new ministry, but if I'm honest, I was still hurting. From the kindness and welcome I received flowed healing and new life that has sustained me through the challenges of the seven and a half years since then. I reckon there are many others who could say the same about their experience of becoming part of this church, and for a huge variety of reasons. Long may it remain so, for it gives the greatest glory to God, being a 'church for others'. My final blessings given today were for me experiences of joy and fulfilment. What more could anyone ask?

Here the story I have been telling of my life as a city centre pastor, through all the changing scenes of life, draws to a happy conclusion. It's time quit blogging for a while in order to ponder. I'd like to keep a journal of whatever follows on in life after this point, but at the moment I'm stuck for a blog name that might be as catalytic of fresh thought as this one has been. Hopefully that will be in my next and therefore final posting.

A feast to remember

2010-04-18T23:48:00.001Z

Yesterday afternoon, Lynn and Pam took us in their car down to Llanbleddian, in the Vale, to meet up with other parishioners to sing Evensong in the Parish Church of St John the Baptist. It was a day of glorious sunshine, and all the flowers of spring were evident in the lanes as we travelled. Having charged up both cameras for the trip, I stupidly rushed out carrying neither. Fortunately Pam had a Nikon digital camera with her, which I was able to borrow and record something of the occasion for the parish website.

Llanbleddian has a tower of the same age (15th century) as our St John's, by the same Somerset architect, another gift of the wife of the Earl of Warwick (the Kingmaker). We were welcomed by our band of ringers who'd arrived ahead of us to ring before the service. I ad libed a sermon based on the couple of lessons, chosen after we arrived (one of those bits of planning we'd all forgotten), and it went down quite well. We were given tea and cake by some members of the congregation, and that gave us all a chance to socialise, and return an invitation to Llanbleddian to come up to Cardiff for a special Evensong of their own at some future date. Although Evensong is done less than ever these days, it is still a much loved act of worship for many people. I'm proud and glad that a relatively small number of people attending St John's regularly make it their habit to offer Evensong to the passing world every Sunday.

Then we drove on through the lanes to Llanmihangel y Bont Faen, a small hamlet a couple of miles to the south, situated in the Rectorial Parish of Llantwit Major. Apart from a few farms, there is a fourteenth century Parish Church, set in a grassy wooded hollow with a running stream nearby, and a beautiful well menatained sixteenth century mediaeval manor house, Plas Llanmihangel, where we were booked in for an evening meal, thirty nine of us! Pauline gave us a talk on the history of the church, which still uses oil lamps for illumination, and has a baptismal immersion font underneath the floor close to the pulpit. It can't have been much used, however, since it has pews astride its cover.

Plas Llanmihangel opened its door to us at seven, with an apéro while we found our places in the seating plan. All credit and thanks to Pauline who organised the whole event perfectly, and gave us an arrangement that provided an opportunity to sit down and eat together as a congregation, and enjoy several hours of company and conversation, while eating a superb meal. It's a rare occasion for none of us to be serving a meal to others. So much serving others is done regularly by members of the congregation, that this was a special treat for all. It was what I'd hoped might be possible as a farewell celebration, rather than a stand up 'do' with a cast of thousands. Just a gathering of many who have shared with me as incumbent in the journey the parish has taken through these years of change.

There were speeches, a most generous presentation and toasts afterwards, all full of warmth and affection. The ringers presented me with an inscribed tribute recalling the quarter peal rung in honour of my retirement at the end of last month. It is a most unusual honour and something of which I shall remain very proud indeed. It was gone eleven when we left for home. For some, it was the latest they'd stayed out for many a moon. A thoroughly good time was had by all. From every angle it was one of those unforgettable days, a memory to treasure in times to come.

When we got home, I uploaded the photos taken during the day. The results are here.

Final Friday

2010-04-16T17:35:00.003Z

There were fourteen of us at the noon Eucharist today, bringing the weekday total up to thirty two, much to my satisfaction - the weekday average is up by 25% over seven years of upheaval in the city centre. When I arrived and people around the place asked me where I was working, I was often surprised to hear people say that they thought St John's was closed, even though the church had been kept open daily, even though the tea room was running regularly. I guess the clothing of the tower in scaffolding for a year, plus a few inevitable closures for safety reasons once it was realised this had to be done, did send out messages to the public that needed to be contradicted at a later date.

Getting people back into the habit of expecting the place to be open with regular worship on weekdays as well as Sundays took several years. We're not talking here about what went on in reality, but what people working around the city thought was happening. Making sure that the public is aware of the welcoming presence day by day did involve publicity, looking for occasions to make known the life and activities of the church, and not fighting shy of the possibility of a little controversy, if that's what it takes to get noticed.

I have encountered such disappointment among city workers and worshippers that there is no news of a sucessor, no possibility of a public handover, that would help make my successor known as Christ's ambassador in the city centre. The doctrine imposed from above is that 'the Parish' will have get on without an incumbent and live through a process of bereavement, while the recruitment process goes on - despite the fact that my departure has been planned and made known for over a year, and that undertakings were given that the interregnum would be as short as possible. What 'possible' means in this context is considerably different between those who look in to the city centre from outside, and those who have to carry forward the church's mission in this context. It's no wonder that the church as a public body finds itself unable to retain the measure of public respect and credibility it thinks it deserves.

After the Eucharist, I enjoyed a couple of hours at the sink, washing up in good company as usual. We wished Pauline happy birthday for Monday coming, with a nice bottle of bubbly, during the quiet period. Today there was a lunchtime organ concert, well attended, and it brought another wave of customers in afterwards. Just think next time I stand at the sink in the tea room, I'll be just a volunteer like all the others. I hope that everyone else involved won't find this too hard to get used to.

Once the activity died down, I went to my bank and acted upon Financial advice received earlier in the week, and began to move money that arrived in my current account a couple of days ago. Good to get it all safely locked down, where it won't any longer make me nervous to have around. A strange place for me to be indeed.

Another last day

2010-04-15T22:02:00.001Z

Karry Watkins from the Parsonage Board came by this morning to look around the house and assess what might need to be done for an incoming new incumbent. I nagged on about double glazing to reduce further the energy costs, now that loft and cavity wall insulation have been done, just prior to our departure.

There were just half a dozen of us for the noon Eucharist. As I arrived the contractors working on laying the south churchyard path called me over to inspect their work. The paving slabs being used are not fresh from the quarry, but come from a stock-pile to us at a reasonable price. Many have been used before and weathered well. Once laying is complete, and the grouting has weathered a bit, the paving will settle quickly into an environment of ancient stones. I think the result will be pleasing to the eye.

I made it to the Governors meeting, on by bike today, not on foot, and was annoyed to be just five minutes late, and arrive during the prayers. The diocesan religious inspector delivered his report as part of the OFSTED inspection and was fulsome in his praise. At the end of the meeting Father Roy attempted to persuade me in front of the meeting to stop on as a governor at least until my successor is in place. I had to remind him that such matters were not ours to propose, but rather the diocesan education committee. Which was perhaps better than saying "Enough is enough."

I have loved being part of the life of every school it has been my privilege to serve as a pastor. I have never enjoyed being a Governor, although it has been an ex officio duty in three places where I worked. Educational policy comes largely from above, and the governing body has to comply with all sorts of policy impositions and decisions so complex that common sense is never sufficient and usually boring 'training' is required. The capacity to change or question any thing is so limited, that for the most part governors are obliged to become 'yes-men' if only to support the staff, and make their lives less onerous. Pedagogy and community learning struggle all the time against being stifled by useless politically driven resource wasting bureaucracy. There must be a better way, to raise our kids and not exploit our teachers surely?

A decent picture

2010-04-14T21:44:00.001Z

There were unusually, a dozen of us for my last Wednesday midday Eucharist today.

I'm now at the stage of finishing off things that I committed myself to doing, like the new Parish Electoral Roll, and entering summary statistics into the Archdeacon's Annual return. It's a decent picture. St John's has grown and held its own over the past three years since the separation of the city centre parish from Cathays. We've more than made up for people lost through death or moving away. The electoral roll is a steady sixty. Averagely there are forty communicants per Sunday and nearly thirty on weekdays, most of whom don't come on Sundays, plus Evensong attendees, making ninety regular worshippers a week, apart from the many big occasions St John's hosts. There's a lot that a young more energetic priest will be able to build upon.

At the end of an afternoon of administrative pottering, I rushed over to Tregegarville School for a Governors' meeting only to discover I was a day early. I'd mis-read my diary. The few remaining staff were quite amused by this, and must have put me straight into the 'dotty old Vicar pidgeon hole. Ah well, it meant that I got home early enough to cook supper for Clare, who is beavering away at re-decorating the house ready for the move. I get do do my stuff in the next couple of weeks.

Hindsight

2010-04-13T21:28:00.001Z

In this my last week of full time work, I realise that I need to think a bit more about what else I/we will consider doing, once we've moved to Pontcanna, got the house how we want it, made all the overdue catch up visits to family and friends, and found a different pace of life.

Life for the past forty years has been dictated by occupying a social role in relation to fellow Christians, defined by the Parish as the place to be. However busy or not the job may be, from time to time, the nature of the commitment and the solemn pledges on which it rests makes for ties akin to marriage, and that has not been without its conflicts and difficulties over the years.

In retirement I remain a priest and pastor, but for the first time become a volunteer, with more choices, fewer obligations, and a new sense of freedom to be more of a husband and father, without the excuses of the job to hide behind. As well as this I can play a different role in the community as a 'citizen', contributing the useful skills and experience as a helper, rather than initiator of projects. I don't have to remain politically neutral if I don't want to. I can join the fray, or turn my back on it. Both seem possible, depending upon my mood!

For the moment, a little back office support for Cardiff Business Safe in its crime prevention role is something that will keep my mind exercised, and give me a different kind of glimpse into the world of business. I'll be doing the same with Cardiff Street Carers' Forum also, as this evolves. We had a Representative Group meeting at County Hall this evening. Recently the pace has slackened somewhat, because the council officers we've been dealing with have been preoccupied with other project and not been able to give their full attention to seeing through what's begun. It's normal I guess. Everyone is keeping lots of balls in the air in their jobs, and there's always a gulf between imagination, ambition and reality. I can see that when I look back over my forty years as a cleric in the Church. Would it have been any different If I'd had the self confidence to pursue the path of being a priest in secular employment?

Money matters

2010-04-12T20:37:00.002Z

All my working life I've lived in houses owned and maintained by the Church. We've managed to bring up three children and succeeded in living decently within our means. So having a visit from a Financial Advisor is a something of a novelty. I had a 'Fiduciare' in Switzerland whom I paid a few hundred Francs to fill in my tax forms, as these are notoriously complex and difficult. Even if you get by speaking French in everyday living, the local, cantonal and federal terminology of taxation merits getting someone else to take the strain on your behalf. UK on-line tax filing is a doddle after all that - and free.

Anyway, the Financial Advisor came because the bank noticed I had some savings needing to be re-invested, and I realised that there'd soon be a pension lump sum to consider as well. In fact the notice from the CofE pension fund came through the door in the morning's mail, not long before the man himself arrived. I've been out window shopping to find out more about 'financial products' as they now seem to be called, and become more and more bewildered by what it's possible to do. So it was good to sit and discuss with someone who wasn't pushy and who could get me to think about myself and my attitude to money.

Cautious, risk averse, that's me. If you've got enough to live off in your regular pension income, then the rest is rainy day stuff like insurance, in my book. OK then, call me mean. Life is a lot more enjoyable the simpler it is, the fewer options you have, the clearer the options. Honestly, even thinking about managing savings makes me nervous, because of the options.

I'm thankful that the credit crunch has delivered us from assault by tempting credit card offers of late. Mind you, I still haven't got over my moral indignation at the strapline 'Access takes the waiting out of wanting', ad that must have been all of thirty five years ago. These days, we may be less amenable to borrowing than we were, but I'm not quite convinced that there are really enough decent incentives to save. It's a habit we may need to re-learn. And I have to do some more thinking about the place of money in my life, in a way quite differently from those years of providing for a family.

Big birthday boy

2010-04-11T21:49:00.002Z

Today I turn 65, and become a pensioner - well not quite yet - I have another week of work, and then ten days of full time effort in house moving before my resignation takes effect. The effects of the nasty bug that has laid me low for the last fortnight are still with me, sapping my energy, so today I felt more like an old man than I usually do. However, the sun shone and bathed the sanctuary with light for my final eight o'clock service for four faithful worshippers, and that felt good, after so many dark cloud laden, rubbish strewn early Sunday beginnings - yes, there's even less rubbish these days, so things are improving, slowly.

There was a good congregation at ten, despite it being Low Sunday, when often many are away. We had a baptism, the child of a couple I'd married eighteen months ago. That was delightful, even if somewhat exacting with my batteries on low. At the end of the service, Pauline came down from the back and got everyone singing 'happy birthday'. There was a birthday cake to follow, over coffee, with candles that re-ignited themselves when you blew them out. Such kindness. So hard ot believe it's me having a Significant Birthday.

The last time that happened to me was when I had an Easter birthday in Geneva. It comes as a bit of a shock when it happens. That time I didn't notice the improvised organ fantasia on the 'happy birthday' tune during Communion, and thought people ere smiling just because it was Easter. A priest leads from the front and is the centre of attention, but the only way to make this a true act of service is empty oneself, with the detachment of an actor on stage absorbed in playing a role. It's what a priest does for God and suddenly to become the focus of a different kind of attention is bit like being awakened out of a deep sleep.

After church Owain Clare and I went to a favourite Indian restaurant - the Vegetarian Studio for lunch. It's a friendly family place with a little Hindu shrine on the wall just outside the kitchen, and some of those working there had evidently been worshipping at the temple up the road before starting their day.

We went home for tea and another birthday cake and presents and phone calls from the kids - lots of new CDs, a shirt and a fabulous cooking pan with which I will be able to cook paella for four instead of two! Whilst listening to my first new CD, I fell asleep soundly. I seen to need to do this at the moment as well as having a good eight hours in bed. Dozy old man! Then it was back to church for Evensong before spending a quiet evening on the sofa with Clare in front of the TV. No stopping on for a final St John's Friends' committee meeting. Time to leave them to plan a future that won't involve me. Nobody is indispensible, after all.

I remember Mansel Gower recounting, some forty years ago how shocked he'd been when he quit teaching A level Maths at 65 one week, then the following, he was drawing his first pension at the Post Office, and the counter clerk was speaking to him loudly, clearly and slowly and with quite a different demeanour than when he'd been in previously - as if he was suddenly old and decrepit, no longer capable of counting out the few quid the State was passing him across the counter. Attitudes to age have changed as people have remained fitter and healthier for longer. Sixty five is the new fifty, or so they say - just as long as you're not burned out or fighting a bug. Fitness we can do something about, but health is a gift not to be taken for granted.

Visitor from afar

2010-04-09T20:20:00.003Z

As I was tidying up after the lunchtime Eucharist today, I was approached by a young woman, who asked if I was Father Keith. I looked more closely and realised it was Dr Laura Ciobanu, on a return visit from Bucharest, where she teaches and practices medicine. We met when she was doing some specialist training here four years ago, and have met twice since when she's returned to see friends. All these meetings could so easily not have happened, but somehow were meant to happen. On this occasion she'd been told that I was unwell and had probably left the church, since I'd slipped into the sacristy after the service to work with Philip on an email for a few moments.

Last time she brought us the gift of an icon of St John the Baptist from home. This time, there was a special personal gift for me - some holy oil and incense grains from Mount Athos, the home of Eastern Orthodox monasticism. It was just so touching to be remembered, and to see her again. Her Father is a priest in Bucharest, now semi-retired following a stroke, but active in prayer and pastoral guidance in his local church. I bet he must be proud of his accomplished daughter. She went home, after her internship, to do something about medicine in her homeland, rather than earn a relative fortune somewhere else. She said it is so hard because the whole system is still run by communists, hanging on, with little vision or new sense of direction, not knowing how to address the need for change or cope with it when it happens. Much like here I suppose, though more far reaching in consequences where she is. Being here for her was a bit like being a dream world where dreams came true. Back at home, the dreams are more like nightmares.

No more Returns

2010-04-08T19:18:00.000Z

In the morning's mail was the City Registrar's Quarterly Return form. My very last one to complete and send off. This is a full copy of the marriage register entries for the previous three months. It's a requirement of an Anglican cleric's job that these be filled in, signed as a correct record and returned to the office in City Hall - one of those mundane chores that Vicars 'just do', that come uninvited with the job, along with the status of being a legal registrar for church weddings. It's a task that requires concentration, patience and no distractions. I've never been good at it, always hated it, and will be glad to see the back of it. Working to make the ritual of marriage a wondrously joyful experience was always a challenge and a pleasure. Solemn form filling was always a nightmare to me.

When I went to Halesowen as Rector 20 years ago, there were 90 weddings a year. There could be up to two dozen wedding entries a quarter to be copied on to the sheets provided (NOT a photocopy, NEVER a photocopy). Thankfully, I had an elderly Parish Clerk who did the copies in immaculate copperplate, and brought them to me, on time, for my 'certifying' signature, as Vicar. By the time I left, recession had set in, weddings dropped to sixty and continued spiralling downwards from there. The Parish Clerk retired, and form filling eventually found its way to the Incumbent. Since I've been here, the most weddings I had in any quarter was four, and only slightly more in any year. In seven years at St John's, there have only been two dozen weddings.

On the other hand, colleagues in the Diocese in Europe are often busy presiding at ceremonies for couples in romantic holiday locations, where it's possible to hire a local church and invite minister to bless a couple after civil ceremony conducted elsewhere. Separation of church from state in most of Europe makes this the norm. It gives pastors more pastoral freedom to engage with people where they are. Last week, Church in Wales clerics were advised that parliamentary has approved the relaxation of restrictive residential qualifications for couples wishing to marry in a church with a personal or spiritual association for them and their families. This follows a similar move in the CofE a couple of years ago, reducing the need to apply for an Archbishop of Canterbury's Special (expensive) License. I don't think this extra bureaucratic concession will have many extra couples rushing to the altar. Having enjoyed a much improved quality of ministry to married couples in the nine years I was abroad, I'm sad I didn't see the separation of the legal engagements of marriage from its sacred celebration in the UK during my working life. There seems to be little appetite for such change.

Well, I made it to the St John Priory Chaplains' meeting this afternoon, which is just as well, since the Prior has asked if I will stay on as a HQ Chaplain. Hopefully, the local Cardiff division will also be able to make occasional use of my pastoral interest. While my involvement with the Order is a result of being Vicar of St John's in the first place, it's opened up a world of interesting pastoral engagements for me that looks set to outlast retirement. I was pleased to have an opportunity to address the meeting about the development of pastoral ministry to St John's teams staffing the Millennium Stadium plus one or two other major permanent event sites staffed by St John's in Wales, like the Builth Wells showground, and the Llangollen International Eisteddfod site. Chaplains visiting events for other reasons would I believe find their day much enriched by spending time alongside first responders on stand-by at big events.

Downs and ups

2010-04-07T21:52:00.008Z

My nasty bug hasn't given up without a fight, even after a couple of days of lying low at home, but I had to summon the energy to go in and celebrate the noon Eucharist today. Just my luck to be faced with the need to remount a dislodged cycle chain before setting out. I arrived just as the tower clock was striking the hour, to find that my key to the outside sacristy door wouldn't work, requiring me to enter through the South Porch, making me even later getting started. Afterwards, I set off on foot for a meeting of St John's Chaplains down at the HQ on Ocean Way, only to find I was a day early. It was clearly not my day. I should have gone back to bed. Instead, I spent a couple of hours checking subscriber data with Ashley over in Southgate House to conclude the afternoon.

There are two memorable things about today. The first is my discovery of a remarkable series of photos sent via Twitter from the International Space Station by a Japanese astronaut. I'm not a Twitter fan, nor a user, but to put this communications channel to such marvellous topical use can only be good for our sense of the world we are privileged to inhabit. Check it out - here. One of my best bits of new insight from visiting this site is that the Japanese have a different name for each daily phase of the moon. Like the Inuit having hundreds of words for kinds of snow, this tells you something about observation, and the value it's given in cultures other than ours. The other memorable thing is that several days ago I was invited by Ed Walker the editor, to be a guest blogger on the Wales On-Line website. I responded, and learned today that my post was published here yesterday.

The Feast of Feasts

2010-04-04T23:00:00.003Z

How lovely the sun was shining when I made my way to church for the early Eucharist of Easter Day. It was quiet, with just four of us there, and just as well. I'd not been unable to do more than think through the bare bones of a sermon during a night of coughing and turning, let alone commit to this paper as I usually do. I just had to improvise my way through, and for me that always means being longer than if I'd really disciplined my thoughts into text. Ah well, at least it meant that I was sure I had something coherent to say at the Sung Eucharist.

There were over eighty in church for the Sung Eucharist and 69 communicants, with many foreign visitors. We started with the Paschal Candle and Easter garden blessings and a rehearsal of the Easter shout; Christ is risen/He is risen indeed for use throughout. The sermon and even my sung parts of the service went OK. A lady from Connecticut expressed her appreciation for what I said, declaring it was "Sincere, from the heart." Yes, and that's about all - no record of this one anywhere, except that I recall starting from "It is finished", and attempting to read it as Jesus having accomplished fully his Father's will, and now finished with just being in one time and place. From the cross he moves on. From the empty tomb outwards to the world in every age - finished with the particular situation, moving towards universal relevance in every age, to becoming 'all in all'. Well, that's what I think I was on about.

The whole was more endurance than enjoyment, as I am still feeling groggy. It's not at all how I might have hoped to spend my last Easter in the Parish. I'm still far from over this vile bug that's plagued me now for a whole week. After refreshments, I gave Iris a lift home and gave her sister Hilda Easter communion. She's also poorly and in bed at the moment. It wouldn't really be Easter without home communions. There'll be a couple more during the week.

It's great that the family (apart from the Canadian residents) have been with us this weekend, even if a shame that I've been tired and lacking in energy to join in. I slept intermittently after lunch and before Evensong. At least that made it possible for me to go and lead the service. There were two dozen of us there - a dozen in the choir, the rest sat scattered about the nave, and watching, as passing visitors often do. I wonder what they make of what we do and say on an occasion like this. But we don't do surveys, we just try and welcome everyone with a smile and in the name of the risen Lord.

We finished the evening chez nous, watching 'South Pacific' on TV then re-running 'Mamma Mia' on video. We were all in bed before midnight, tired out.

My last parochial Good Friday

2010-04-03T10:52:00.004Z

It rained as I made my way to church for the Good Friday Vigil. The streets were pretty quiet, and I thought that would result in few people attending. However, I was mistaken there were around thirty people were there for the first two hours, with some comings and goings, and numbers rose to around 50 for the Liturgy in the final hour. Although I was still feeling pretty groggy, my throat was not nearly as sore as yesterday, and my voice held up throughout. It was hard to feel much. I did my best to remain focussed and put in as much energy as I could into preaching. On this occasion it meant not singing, and that was strange - being quiet for some of my favourite hymns of the year. The important thing was getting to the end without cracking up and causing a drama. Without the quiet support of church officers, willing me on as well as sharing in the liturgy, it would have been much harder.

Afterwards we had a quiet, most welcome cuppa and toasted hot cross bun, all relaxed and homely up in the tea-room, closed for the day, then home to await family arrivals and get some rest. In fact, we agreed to cancel Saturday night's Easter ceremonies, rarely attracting more than half a dozen people, so that I could have a full day to recover before Sunday. No point in taking any risks at the end of such a hard-going final parochial Holy Week.

Late in the evening I popped back to church briefly to see how the ' Pub Church' team was getting on with its Good Friday outreach for city clubbers, organised by Pastor James Karran and University Chaplain Trystan Hughes. They had different videos of Christ's Passion being projected in three different spaces around the church, and some mediation stations, focussing on Way of the Cross events. They were pleased to have had a good response from passers by - I guess the loud music pumping into the street from a church will have made some curious.

Richard and Philip were there, Evan was expected. A really long day for all of them, and a sign of their strong commitment to make the church a place open to all kinds of activities that may bring people in, and make them think. I was too tired to stay long, and so grateful that I didn't have to stay to the end. But above all I felt immensely proud of having been part of this small team that has quietly self-effacingly made so many wonderful things happen for others in over the years.

Maundy Thursday

2010-04-01T20:38:00.010Z

On my way in to celebrate the midday Eucharist, I stopped to chat with the churchyard path laying contractors, about to knock off their their Easter break. All the renewed kerbstones are now in place, and there's a layer of six inches of concrete laced aggregate rolled into place, leaving room for the pennant flagstones to be laid when they arrive after the holiday. "Derr, that's a bit overkill for a path innit?" said the charge hand, "You could drive a tank over it when it's finished." "That's the idea, we're sick of tripping over loose flagstones." I riposted. "Yeah, but it'll outlast the church at this rate." he said. "No harm in that." I replied, trying to imagine the path bearing visitors or pilgrims in 200 years time, hopefully, not paying homage to an urban ruin. So, with a bit of luck and decent weather, the job should be done before I retire. Meanwhile, the guys have kindly used some spare aggregate to fashion ramps at each end, to facilitate wheeled access for the time being.

We were a dozen at the noon Eucharist, half seemed to be passing foreign visitors. After the service I went over to the Catholic Truth Society shop to buy a paschal candle sticker and a stock of communion wafers. The congregation at the Metropolian Cathedral Chrism Mass next door was just coming out, and Archbishop Peter was in the door way greeting the faithful. A very joyous and happy atmosphere was generated by chatting groups along the pavement. The forecourt of the shop became briefly a refuge for several clergy uninhibitedly puffing away at their first post liturgical ciggies. There was a party atmosphere in the shop too, for them one of the busiest days of the year after the visit of the relics of St Therèse. "You wouldn't believe it Father - non stop twelve hours opening. We had to throw them out in the end."

Then I went over the Southgate House, to complete my little effort in CBS subscriber data input. My arrival coincided with a visit from our technical supplies man. We had an interesting conversation about the the problems of 'reception' - not transmission quality, but reception of new ideas in certain areas of local government where 'Not invented here' is inscribed religiously on the door lintels. We have a little way to go yet, to ensure that the city is as well served as it deserves to be. He's an interesting guy, who left a certain local church school with one 'O' level, and was 'blessed' with this valedictory sentence from a teacher: "I can't ever see you holding down a steady job." Undeterred, he said that he'd never been out of work since then, twenty eight years ago. Some people can only learn to succeed from life itself, and not by jumping through hoops laid by academics. Failure to recognise this is perhaps at the heart of modern educational problems.

There were fourteen of us for the Evening Eucharist of the Lord's Supper. I preached, for the second time today, having just enough voice to be ready to have a go, but I did begin to splutter towards the end. I wasn't the only one barking, snuffling and coping with catarrhal deafness. Evan was right on the mark after the withdrawal of the reserved sacrament, and the sanctuary was stripped, bleak and bare by the time we came to the end of Psalm 88, with the last light of day fading rapidly. "It was night", as scripture says, abrupt and powerful.

Time then, to draw breath go home and eat, and hunt nervously for tomorrow's Vigil at the Cross addresses, completed before Lent began, and just a bit elusive earlier on in a file system, reproduced over two machines each with Linux and Windows partitions. After a minor panic, they turned up 'in the cloud' as the latest trendy tech jargon has it. I took a free subscription to an Ubuntu Linux internet file storage service you can access from anywhere, just in case you forget your memory stick or floppy disk. I parked the sermons there, meaning to transfer them to earthly property owned by me, in another room, or the church office, and then forgot what I'd done. If you don't make it to hear them live, you can read them here.

Virus blues

2010-03-31T21:37:00.003Z

The unwelcome beginnings of a cold reported on Sunday turned into a nasty affliction, leaving me almost without voice yesterday. The symptoms were reminiscent of the monster 'flu which put me out of action from Christmas Day to New Year's Day the year before last. With suitable hygienic precaution I got through the Evening Eucharist, then went home to a bath and early bed. By yesterday afternoon I was over the worst, able to venture out for an important meeting to work out office provision for Cardiff Business Safe. Rather than walk home in the face of an icy wind, I hopped on a bus and went out to PC World to exchange a memory card reader for the chip in my new mobile phone. I'd been sold the wrong one on the weekend by a sales assistant who was no better than I at reading the microscopic print on the box. Happily, obtaining the right one meant that I got a refund of four quid. That warmed me up. Then I jumped on another bus back to church for a quiet hour before the evening's Eucharist. Early bed was once more a welcome release from battling with the symptoms.

Today there was a midday as well as an evening Eucharist. My throat is not ragingly sore now but I only have a small voice. Hopefully this will come back to normal by Friday for preaching the Three Hours. I've worked Holy Week with bronchitis several times over the years, but I'm not as resilient as I used to be, so the risk of not getting through is greater. One can be fine most of the time, then useless when it counts most. When you go sick suddenly at the busiest time of year, there won't be too many clerics around on stand-by - they'll already be helping out in some busy place where the ministers are already stretched. There's no doubt that Parishes are feeling the pinch from clergy shortage, but there's no sign yet on the horizon of any regrouping to address the challenge. And it's the clergy who take the strain on this.

A few people in recent weeks have expressed the sentiment that my last few weeks might be happy and fulfilling to reminisce over. What I will treasure is the ocean of kindness and patient consideration from St John's members that has kept me afloat, and coped gently with my vulnerability. It keeps me from the bitter trials of having to work in isolation as a priest without a colleague. It shouldn't have to happen. A little strategic leadership and management could ensure everyone working at the public interface has support from a professional partner to share the entire workload. I mean working together, not just an emergency backup. I mean peer partners, not the boss-minion arrangement which seems to be what the church is experienced in maintaining. It didn't happen in my serving lifetime. Will I live long enough to be able to say "I told you so."? Yes, I'm moaning again. I believe things could and should be better. That was, after all, why I signed up for this, all those years ago.

Clocks on - Palm Sunday

2010-03-28T21:52:00.004Z

I wish the start of Summer time didn't co-incide with Passiontide and Easter quite so often over the passage of years. Invariable the loss of an hour is combined with not going to bed early enough to compensate, and this means facing a Sunday less fresh than usual. Today I woke up with the unwelcome beginnings of a cold, which took away from my appreciation of this special time of year.

Everyone of us was delighted to welcome Bill John back to church. It's six months since he fell and broke his femur exiting the church porch. He's now driving again, and took his usual part in welcoming and introducing worshippers at the beginning of the service. A real triumph for his patience and persistence to be back among Christian friends again. In six months we have made no progress in removing the porch and replacing it with glass doors that would enable all who enter to see their way and negotiate the steps better.

We've had conservationist objections to relocating the porch, and have been pushed back into articulating a Grand Plan for all the stages of development needed to make the West end of the church and the choir vestry more visitor friendly, rather than letting us achieve one sound practical move at a time. I'm sorry not to see this resolved, before I go, but know that the determination of church officers and members will see this through to completion, despite the disregard of the DAC for the serious health and safety concerns we've represented to them.

It took three years of work in the face of safety worries to get us to the stage where the south churchyard path is now finally being re-laid. The official line is "If it's that unsafe close it off.", as if that was the only sensible answer possible in the life of a working church relying for its viability on being open to the public every day. Preservation of church property seems to be given more weight in 'duty of care' arguments than the people who use them. What would He who had not place on earth to lay His head have made of this I wonder?

It's the same regarding the adaptation of listed buildings to conserve energy. The church and other public bodies are in the thrall of CADW, when it comes to installing solar panels of ancient buildings. They all have the power of veto, and it's too expensive for anyone in their right minds to challenge this. Eventually we'll pay for all our failures in not putting the needs of people before fancy ideas about what is really precious in this world.

Dinah, the young Malaysian intern who's been worshipping with us for the past couple of months said her goodbyes today. After a quick tour of Europe, she's returning to Kuala Lumpur and her old desk in the University admin department. I'm hoping she'll email us some photos of her home church congregation, set in a culture where Christianity doesn't always fit comfortably, most church buildings are new-ish, and conservation is more about protecting the natural world from the ravages of commercial exploitation than preserving monuments to human ambition.

Sure, we all love our ancient sacred spaces, and invite them to speak of God to us, but how often we forget they were also built as expressions of power and status in past times. Our attitudes and preoccupations allow them to dominate us while we contrive as best we can to put them to proper use. How could we better achieve a proper balance? Another unanswered question I leave behind, when I leave office.

Honoured by bells

2010-03-27T11:28:00.001Z

This morning, St John's bellringers attempted a full peal of Gransdire Caters, change ringing on all ten bells, to mark my retirement. I felt greatly honoured by their intentions. It was a lovely sunny morning, so I went and stood in the churchyard and recorded a few minutes' worth of the ringing, in a spot where there was little accompanying noise. Then later I added this sound clip to the front page of the church website, after a little juggling. The peal attempt had to be abandoned due to a calling error just after the first quarter was accomplished, and the band members looked a little disappointed as they came down the steps. I still felt greatly honoured.

I spent most of the morning error checking the annual report, and found one big one that had been introduced by a bit of unchecked cut and paste by the auditor, which placed responsibility for managing the four churches of the old parish on St John's - not a good idea. I wonder how long that error has gone un-noticed? No problems with the financial pages, thankfully. But it does go to show how careful one has to be to eliminate errors that may mislead readers. Even elaborate documents couched in legal speak caveats mistakes get made. Lack of simplicity can make things harder understand and to check no matter how many pairs of eyes look things over. This is the last time I will have to bother with stuff like this. It's the kind of responsibility I'm glad to be relieved of.

Climate concerns continued

2010-03-26T23:08:00.000Z

Another well attended noon Eucharist today, fifteen people. The average weekday attendance at all services is generally around 27-30 people these days, unless the weather is horrid. I did an hour at the tea room sink afterwards, and when it quietened down I headed over to Southgate House to finish off the data entry task I'd taken on. I had the place to myself and was able to get the job done quickly, and go home.

After supper I went to the Quaker Meeting House to co-chair a UNA sponsored meeting giving a faith perspective on climate change, featuring Dr John Weaver, Dean of the Faculty of Theology and Dr Hefin Jones, a biologist and member of Minny Street Eglwys Annibynnol. It was a very good meeting, with 22 people present, as many as we had for the conference I ran last September. It was a different constituency, and there were some interesting responses to the speakers from participants.

So, if this is what one can expect in terms of numbers from faith communities prepared to turn out in order to inform themselves at any given opportunity, it's going to be several years of putting on such educational events before there's any critical mass of people will to shoulder responsibility for developing a real faith communities' carbon footprint reduction action plan. That's what I'm convinced is needed - not just high level policy conversations, but something at grass roots that encourages local church communities to take effective steps, before the need for crisis management comes to meet and overwhelm us. If we don't get this, we risk losing many of our places of worship, and the community resources we rely on for mission, as they become unsustainable in a changed economic and well as physical environment.

Lady Day

2010-03-25T23:38:00.001Z

After the midday Eucharist, a trek in the rain over to Tredgarville School for the annual blessing and distribution of Palm Crosses to staff and children. A group of kids performed my Hosanna Rap account of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, which gave me pleasure. Just as the ceremony finished, the Head intervened to introduce a surprise presentation - about me, a kind of brief 'This is your life', told by some children, and a Powerpoint presentation made up of pictures of me taken from an internet search, mostly very fuzzy, as they were small sized and unsuitable for blowing up, but it was fun nevertheless. The pictures of me with one of the granchildren in my arms drew lots of aaaahs, and the infamous photo of me holding someone else's ipod, in an image used several times in tech news stories since it was first taken, aroused much amusement all round.

Each of the classes contributed their own handmade good wishes cards, so beautifully done. I must see if I can photograph and most them for wider viewing - just delightful. Then there was a present - one of the bigger digital photo frames with lots of memory, big enough to contain thousands of re-sized family photos. Just the job for a full time grandpa. I was just overwhelmed. The thought that I might not re-appear again after the Easter break spurred the staff into early action. There will be another chance, however, as there'll be an Eastertide School Eucharist to celebrate when term re-starts.

I took the opportunity to do an inventory of the church stuff held in school. It's only taken me three years to get around to it. Glad I remembered before I no longer hold the keys to do the job. This means that the work I've been doing on a handover file for church officers and my successor is now nearly complete and only in need of checking. That'll take an age, given my fading attention to detail.

From school, I went down to County Hall, where I had been asked to say the opening prayers for the Council meeting, both the regular clerics who do this were unavailable. It's the first occasion during my seven and a half years in office, and probably the last. It gave me a chance to greet several councillors I knew beforehand, and that was good. When I'd done praying, the Mayor, Brian Griffiths announced my imminent retirement and expressed his good wishes on behalf of the Council. That was a nice kind touch. Much appreciated.

Then it was back to school for a Governors' meeting with the OFSTED Inspector, who read through the summary of his report for us. It took fifty minutes, and all I can say of its content pre-publication is that rather than nasty surprises, there were only good surprises.
There's some stuff to work at, but everyone is very pleased at the positive recognition of the immense team efforts made week in week out over many years, in some cases. When the introductory description of the school's 'Sitz im Leben' was being read out cooly, it struck me quite hard just how difficult and challenging a social context this is to maintain a school, let along one that aims so high with pupils of every kind of ability, so that they do their best from whatever starting point the depart. I'm so proud it's a church school. I don't see how having beliefs can ever be a problem when the founding belief is that only the best is good enough for the children we care for. I'm glad to have had a small part in it. I would have liked to do more, but there's never been enough time to do everything needing to be done.

From school, it was back to St John's for me to attend the meeting of our local Cardiff Cytun - City and Bay (as the City Centre Churches Together has now rebranded itself). Along with the business, and a discussion of what the organisation wants from its website in the hands of a new volunteer designer, we had a discussion which I led about language and identity, which was an opportunity to think about issues that could be touchy, and which certainly impinge on how churches in a bi-lingual city engage with each other. It was ten before I got home to eat supper. The pace has been pretty lively just lately. No winding down for me yet.

Surprise tomb

2010-03-24T23:06:00.004Z

After an early visit with another load of junk to the Council's waste disposal centre on Wedal Road through the commuter traffic, I went to the Priory HQ of St John Ambulance to meet Keith Dunn and think through with him what I might be able to do as a member of the Order once I retire from the Parish. I'd like to do something a bit more practical than my present role has permitted. I've been offered the opportunity to do the four day St John First Aider training, so that I can pull my weight as part of any St John's duty team I work with pastorally. My aspiration is to re-engage with those who work on big events at the Millennium stadium. This past few years it's been too taxing to do a Saturday evening event, and then have to rise early and work a whole Sunday. When I'm retired, I can do that, and aim to be recovered fully in time for a noon service at the Cathedral or evening Mass at St Mary's - the best of both worlds.

After the noon Eucharist, Martin our architect and Evan, our PCC secretary and professional archaeologist both arrived to inspect the work on renewing the south churchyard path, which started yesterday, a day later than proposed. The large offending roots of the ash tree that have caused us so many problems over the past decade were exposed. So also was the cause of the root problem. On the east side of the tree, the roots had been unable to grow downwards, due to a large stone slab buried in shallow soil beneath the present level of the churchyard path, so the roots had gone outwards sandwiched between the surface and hidden slabs, causing the upper ones to distort. A little prodding with a mechanical digger revealed fragments of stone slabs beneath the surface, covering a brick vault nobody knew was there. It was 80% filled with soil, perhaps from burials back before the closure of the churchyard in 1855. A little research of old churchyard maps is now in order, to ascertain whose tomb this was.

Was this tomb hidden to those who last re-laid the path, around 1890 after the expansion of the church with north and south aisles? The path was already a century old by then. The brick of this vault is identical to that of its neighbouring vault under the E-W 'alley' from the Market to Queen's Arcade, making it early nineteenth century. The find needs a work around solution from the contractors - not too onerous - but for us, it means a little detective work on the somewhat messy, under-reported history of changes to the church in the nineteenth century.

After this, a brief excursion to Tredegarville School to look at a school admissions dossier and confirm decisions taken by others, then back to Southgate House for another spell of work on data before returning home to meet briefly with Archdeacon Peggy to hand over documents relating to the Cardiff Churches Forum and its defunct successor Cardiff Christian Council, an ecumenical body which died of disinterest during my first year back in Cardiff. There's to be another attempt to revive a city wide ecumenical instrument, as a channel of support for Lightship 2000 and its ecumenical ministry to the city down in the Bay. I hope this has more success than the efforts I was involved with - one of my few disappointments of this job.

Another landmark for Street Carers

2010-03-23T23:51:00.003Z

This morning was booked for a loft insulation team to come and do their job in the Vicarage....

At the end of the morning I emailed Kerry at the diocesan parsonage board, and soon after got an apologetic phone call. The crew arrived at two, as I was about the depart for a session with Ashley Hopkins organising information for Cardiff Business Safe, and listening to his behind the scenes stories of business in the city centre. Fortunately Clare arrived home in time and was able to keep an eye on the workers and the house.

At the end of a satisfactory three hours of work, rather than rush home, I made my way slowly down to County Hall for the second Street Carers' Forum training evening. This time's numbers of new trainees were much less than last October's, just eleven people, but the programme was delivered in a crisper, sharper way than last time, benefiting from the criticism of the sixty odd who took part in the first training. Let's hope that the two remaining basic trainings can be as good and lead to a position where all who've been through this are recognised and accredited. This will be something good to show for the effort we've put in over the past two years.

Education, and education

2010-03-22T21:37:00.002Z

Monday morning was much lifted for me by a visit from my good friend Roy Thomas for a 'catch up' chat. Since the completion of the Spiritual Capital project, we've both been too busy to see a great deal of each other. We still share a strong desire to work out fresh ways to engage insight from spiritual traditions of faith into the very secular processes of business and governance. It's not to do with religious institutions exercising worldly power, but rather to do with the creative impulse and vision.

We're both interested in innovation, and I delight in learning from the fresh discoveries he makes in his journey through the world of business. I'm not so sure how much he gets from my fascination (and sometimes suspicion) with technological innovations and their consequences. He's no sluggard in applying the latest social networking tools to his own work. Way ahead of me in fact. But then, his social world is a lot broader than mine, voluntarily restrained in the effort to do real justice to the specific social context in which I'm called to minister.

In this meeting Roy introduced me to Edge - a website that make space for some of the most creatively prodigious and visionary minds on the planet to have their say in writing. There's a lot of new ideas to another website called TED which is, a video blog containing 10-20 minute long videos of talks given by distinguished thinkers from every imaginable discipline, either about their field of work, or their personal take on life. TED is educative, inspirational and insightful if you tend to sit about as I do, before or after prayer, or when I'm finding life hard going, as it takes me places I hadn't thought of going, engaging with ideas from a different angle. It's just a learning boost that restores confidence in humanity.

After lunch, over to Tredegarville School for my last 'God on Mondays'. A congregation of four children (all boys again) and eight adults, four parents and four staff. Judging by one or two reactions from staff, my departure from the scene hasn't really registered yet. Parents have talked with me about it often in months past. It makes me realise that how different is the place occupied by a priest compare to a teacher on their social horizon. Teachers are busy maintaining the school's high standards of pedagogy and pastoral care. The presence of clergy in the life of the school is in the background, dependable, a relatively maintenance free contribution to the welfare of the whole from the school's point of view, and that's fair enough. Once the immanence of my departure regisers, I fear it's going to generate a lot of un-necessary fuss. I'd just be content to fade into the background - you could say, like any other 'service providor' when their job is done, without the drama of big farewells.

We are, in the words of Jesus, no more than 'unprofitable servants'. And in that, so privileged to have even a tiny share in the ministry of the pedagogues.

Saturday encounter

2010-03-20T18:07:00.001Z

This afternoon I went into town on a domestic errand, taking advantage of the lull in the crowds while Italy and Wales played the last rugby match of the Six Nations championship in the Millennium Stadium. As I was walking along an empty Edward VII Avenue, I was thinking about my former colleague at City Church, Tom Arthur, who retired last year. I was amazed then the next person to come into sight was Tom himself, out for a brisk walk. It's the first time I've seen him to talk to since he left work and crossed town to live in Canton.

Talking about the blessings of retirement he said: "The only good advice I received was this - just think of it as a career change, not as an end to working life." Funnily enough that just about sums up the way I have been thinking about the move we'll soon be making. Yesterday we booked the removal van for 30th April.

Yes. Tom's right. there are all sorts of things I want to work at, interests I have in the life of the City that will continue to occupy me while I have health and strength. The main priority will be home and family, catching up with old friends and a little travel, but even so that leaves lots of additional time for pursuing interests and being creative, without the compulsion to drive one self to justify one's existence. I wonder how difficult I'll find that. At the heart of it all is the challenge of living the faith, exercising priesthood in different ways, without the burdens of responsibility that go with managing a church and leading a community.

Tom, ever the Reformed Pastor in his passion to read life in the light of the deepest insights into scripture, has turned back to scholarship in retirement, studying St Paul's letter to the Romans, giving a lecture series on it for CACEC and writing a book, as well as returning to his youthful passion for visual arts. I look forward to opportunities to hang out with him in times to come.

As a result of this welcome break in by journey, my errand had to be completed amidst thronging crowds, as the match came to an end and appy red shirted supporters poured out on to the streets. Wales had won their last match. The pubs will be full tonight.

Preparing the way

2010-03-18T22:13:00.000Z

I really didn't mind getting up early and being at church by 8.30am this morning. This was to meet with Matt Wakelam, Council project engineer, and Danny McGee in charge of the team that will be digging up the south churchyard path and re-laying it with pennant flagstones over the next couple of weeks, finally. It's been three years since this was first mooted, and it took us two of those years to get the Faculty to do the job. The rest of the time has been waiting for the right stone and contractors' time to be found. It's great, the job may be done for Easter, but more than likley before I leave. That'll give me a sense of achievement, especially if I can re-dedicate the path in memory of Peggy Theophilus, whose legacy purchased the pennant flagstones to be used.

After the Eucharist I spent the afternoon with Ashley in Southgate House entering data about RadioNet subscribers into a spreadsheet, ready for invoice production. A laborious task needing attention to detail from both of us, as each entry needed to be cross checked, and both of us have a tendency to stop and tell stories as we go, prompted by queries about the entries. I heard lots of anecdotes about business practices regarding bill payment which I wouldn't care to repeat. It made me realise how big a component of any economic crisis is lack of integrity and honesty on the part of those responsible for running a business. Whilst this may fall short of being a crime, lack of discipline and restraint in managing finances can so easily cause an otherwise healthy business to go under.

When I got home, Keith and Vanessa were waiting for me to take their details in preparation for their wedding, to take place the week after my retirement becomes official. My predecessor is performing the ceremony, and I shall be there no matter what. To hell with stuff old clerical protocol, these two are my friends!

St Patrick's Day

2010-03-17T23:36:00.000Z

Yesterday, I took an early coach to London to see my sister. By the time we reached Newport the heating system had sprung a leak, and we stopped there until the next coach arrived to take us on, and hour late. The toilet on this coach was not functioning well, and half way the poor driver had to stop at a service station and do an urgent clean up, as its water tank had obviously not been filled or had stopped working.

On the crowded second coach, I sat next to a lively young afro Caribbean woman with a strong 'Lunnun black' accent, so different in tone and character from the rural dialect of her parents or grandparents generation which I got used to and was able to imitate when I worked in Bristol's St Paul's Area. A fascinating evolution of speech among the rising generations over a thirty year period. She told me that she'd just started work as a home carer for an agency, after eleven years in care home. She now worked long hours every day for ten days, dealing with the care and support needs of seventeen people, visiting some several times a week and sometimes daily, then having five days off. She was confident and proud of the work she was doing, and told me in passing that she went to church on Sundays. That cheered me, for sure.

After today's lunchtime Eucharist I attended my last Deanery Chapter as an incumbent of the church and was invited to open with prayer, which I appreciated, as it meant I could give God thanks for the fellowship of clerics and all the difficulties and challenges faced, and entrust them and their work to God. Better than making a speech. I am still struck by how poor clergy morale is, and how cynical many are about church leadership. The traditionalists do not feel heard or cared for. Mutterings about going over to Rome are heard. But to what good purpose when Rome itself writhes under the impact of clerical child abuse scandals?

We are witnesses the breakdown of traditional expressions of moral and spiritual authority in all churches. Religious Hierarchies as they have developed in the late 20th century under the dubious influence of global corporations on the one hand and over controlling secular legislation on the other, are under great strain as they strive to hold everyone together in he face of the forces of great change. Will it all break down? Or is it not to late to hope for reform, or organic mutation, transforming the community of communities into smaller sustainable communities in which mutual trust and confidence can be rebuilt? It isn't more controls or containment that the body of Christ needs, but rather creative freedom and confidence. More of the Spirit, less of the law. More of positive innovation, less of guilt inducing regulations that are either irrelevant or unenforceable. Do we need heirarchs? Yes, but more of them with less power and more accountability through personal dialogue.

After Chapter I came back into town to attend an open afternoon to launch the revamped Tourist Information Centre in the Old Library - now with extra added retailing space, but still awating the return of a notice board for promotional advertising of local events. I bumped into a senior Council officer for whom I have high regard, and took the opportunity to bend his ear about the plight of Cardiff Business Safe. More accountability through personal dialogue also applies to the Local Authority. It may not lead to any real change, but it may help to grow understanding and trust. With these elements, every organisation runs better.

The trials of getting the job done

2010-03-15T22:20:00.002Z

It's two years since pressure of work and the limitations of my ability to be helpful in a difficult situation led to me taking a Lenten break from helping with the administrative side of running Cardiff Business Safe. I've kept in touch with director Ashley Hopkins since then, because he was 'hotdesking', as business slang describes it at the City Centre Manager's officer in Southgate House, where I am a frequent visitor. I have continued following developments with interest.

This time last year a new digital radio communications network was established using state of the art equipment to serve the business crime prevention needs of city centre retailers. It's the first of its kind in the commercial sector in the U.K. if not in Europe. This kind of equipment is used for secure communications by the police, prison service and others involved with public security, because it cannot be eavesdropped upon.

Getting the organisation to run properly as an instrument of partnership on crime reduction and public safety in full co-operation with the police and the Council as well as retailers and licensees, has proved to be far from straightforward, and full of frustration. The technical side of the operation, and the servicing of RadioNet system subscribers, albeit complex, has proved much easier to set up and run than relationships with public bodies. When the City Centre management office moved two weeks ago over to the Old Library, Ashley and CBS didn't also move. No provision had been considered to support his work, which is acknowledged to be a vital part of making Cardiff as safe place for trading and leisure activities. Something taken for granted when it works well had fallen down the cracks in the channels of Council bureaucracy.

Aware of this, I paid Ashley a visit in the huge empty office on the ninth floor where he is for the moment a 'grace and favour' guest of the St David's Partnership team, now winding down its activities, with the work of overseeing the redevelopment project coming to its natural end. It's quite a bizarre situation, but Ashely labours on stoically, determined to let nothing get in the way of maintaining this prestigious new communications system, despite the odds. By the end of our chat, I offered to help clear some of the paperwork backlog, as time permits for the moment, and more so once I retire.

It will be nice to have a little project to which I can contribute and keep in touch with City life and activity without being a nuisance to the diocese as the process of appointing my successor hopefully gets under way. Last week's PCC meeting decided to write and ask the Bishop to get a move on and advertise without delay. I know he is keen to do so, but it seems to me that having made early moves to formulate a Parish profile with the Archdeacon back before Christmas, inertia has now set in for no good reason.

It is embarassing for me to be quizzed by all and sundry about who my successor is, when they start work and will there be a handover period, and be obliged to say "I don't know." Almost universally the response is "What on earth is the matter with your bosses?" There's no point in explaining just how far into the rural past the mindset of the Church in Wales is stuck, even with the modern organisation and communications resources it uses.

I went on from visiting Ashely at work to Tredegarville School for 'God on Mondays' - this week on Judas. The head related the latest exchanges on financial planning with County Hall, and a spat with a company pursuing the school for payment after delivering faulty goods and services. All this, and teaching too. Our school is a place of educational excellence with the highest standards of care and dedicated service by the entire staff team. The system that is meant to be there to support this essential purpose can be said to be good in parts, but in many ways exhibits less zeal and dedication to than is found in school.

Are people employed in public service less committed to their work today than their forebears were? What has made such a difference? Is it the size of organisations, or the way they are structured, leaving so little room for real responsibility, judgement and personal initiative? Or is the nature of work today less condusive to stable commitment?

Mothering Sunday

2010-03-14T23:02:00.006Z

We had a baptism at this morning's Parish Eucharist of Mary Jones' great grandson Thomas. The normal congregation was more than doubled, and it was a lively occasion, made even more of a challenge to handle by the unforeseen absence of two key people who make our main Sunday service happen. I had to make sure that all their normally un-noticed tasks were done to make things work, and I was only 99% successful, which kept me on the alert. Nevertheless it was a happy occasion and I don't suppose many will have noticed the things that caused me discomfort.

I was delighted because Dinah the young Malaysian woman who has been attending the eight o'clock Eucharist in recent months came to the ten o'clock for a change, and experienced the full warmth and vigour of a pastoral occasion she easily recognised from her church experience back home. Like many from outside UK, she was confused by the tradition of Mothering Sunday, as opposed to the internationally marketed Mothers Day, generally in May. She said she'd rung home and her mother was bewildered by this early greeting, so a full explanation of the British 'mothering' tradition was gretefully accepted. We also welcomed a young Chemistry post-graduate Italian student called Chiara who'd somehow discovered us recently. That's the great thing about being an open church in the middle of the city, you meet people of all ages and cultures as a matter of course. And it makes our regular congregational members happy indeed.

In the evening before delivering my fourth Lent Talk and singing Compline, I was inwardly grieving /whingeing a little at the poor and irregular attendance for this occasion. Admittedly, I make the texts available in advance, plus a printable booklet, but like every orator I crave a decent audience. We were fifteen. the usual dozen familiar patient faces, and three visitors.

Two ladies were with us from a parish near Burton on Trent for an away football match supporters weekend. After the service they stayed to chat. As my maternal grandparents had lived in Burton on Trent in their old age before illness and infirmity compelled them to surrender their home to come and live with us, there was a special point of conact between us.

My address had caught their imagination, as they were facing the challenge of renewing their own parish outreach into the community by adapting their buildings for more diverse usage. The question was how to underpin this at a spiritual level? I had been talking about the notion of being 'church for others', which I've lived with for forty years, but still comes afresh to some, much to my surprise. I told them the story of how St John's Tea Room had educated church members in pastoral mission in the most unexpected of ways. With another couple of days to their visit, they determined to come back and investigate for themselves. Their genuine interest served as a fulsome reproach to my tendency to self pity.

The conversation meant that I was a late arrival at the Friends committee meeting. However, it was well steered by Vanessa, and I was gratefully home by ten past eight.

Technical obstacle course

2010-03-12T22:43:00.001Z

The day started with a maintenance team arriving on the doorstep to fit new halogen lamps to security lights the Vicarage doesn't have. Un-noticed, further down on their worksheet was the real reason for their visit - the annual gas safety inspection, which the guys hadn't noticed.

Once the job was done, I went over to St German's by bike, to pick up my missing rucksack, before going into St John's, earlier than usual. Another work was in progress there - a technician from BT attempting to sort out the problems with our noisy phone line and erratic broadband link. It turned out, as we suspected, that the problem was in the street outside, and due to a flooded conduit. The work was completed right on midday as I was about to start the Eucharist and Lent meditation. I was unsure if the work had been effective as I walk in, and played my part in a most distracted way.

Sure enough, after the visit we had better quality audio on the phone line, but no broadband. The usual connection difficulties persisted, and this meant that I couldn't retrieve the Annual Report documents needed for printing and copying from email. I went next door to the new City Centre management office on the top floor of the old library, to borrow a computer link, but their security system wouldn't allow me access to Google Mail, so I went down to the new library. I never established whether I could access Google Mail or not, because their computer hardware doesn't include a Memory Stick card reader. I had intended to download documents on to the spare chip I always carry in my wallet, but the Library computers are only equipped to take USB flash drives, so I had to ride home and acquire files for printing there. Annoyingly, the one day I didn't have a spare USB flash drive in one or other of my pockets, was when I needed one most.

Four hours after the telephone job was done, our broadband link was restored. That little exercise in futility, plus production of the documents needed for distribution on Sunday took me the rest of the working day. Making it possible for the church office to function for the demands of our time in a relevant and effective way remains a frustrating resolved problem, which may or may not matter to my successor. It won't bother me when I'm retired. Whether my home broadband works or not, I'll have time to visit the library (supplied with USB key) and while away the hours surfing in a fair and convivial place, whenever I want, with no more deadlines to fret about. Glory be!

Statistics

2010-03-11T22:52:00.002Z

Before celebrating the midday Eucharist at St John's, I stood in for Fr Roy at St German's this morning, to enable him to go off and conduct a quiet day. As Clare needed the car to get to school, she dropped me off en route, and I walked back into town, via school. Annoyingly I left my rucksack in the sacristy, and couldn't re-trace my steps and pick it up, as the church was locked after Mass and Fr Roy was away.

The rucksack contained a new phone for the Choir vestry and documents for the Archdeacon's Annual Return. In this, the Parish gives an assortment of statistical data about Pastoral life and activity that is required to accompany the audited Parish Annual Accounts and Report. Audited Accounts are necessary for the regular scrutiny of the diocese by the Charity Commission. The Report from the Vicar and PCC summarises all that's notable and interesting about the past year. Statistics are of attendances at regular worship and occasional offices.

Like a portrait made of dots, they give no more than an impression of the reality. What are they used for? How often are they cited to inform real decisions? We aren't told. It's hard to believe there's any real value in this annual exercise, as its findings aren't properly discussed with the providors. It's got easier over the years, with the help of a prepared spreadsheet, to work out the averages, and this final time, it didn't take me long to complete. I'll be content never to have to do this again. Perversely, it makes me think of the curse upon King David's census (2 Samuel 24).

Ours being one of the few churches in the diocese open seven days a week to the public, it irks me that no account is required of our annual visitor numbers. It's a statistic that helps make sense of our mission, and is of interest. We should really invest in automatic counters attached to each entrance door, to obtain a reasonable estimate. In the meanwhile, church service attendances across the year amount to around 6,000. Half are regular repeat attendances by the core of faithful people. The other half are from those who come for occasional offices, carols and other special services. Another 1,500 a year attend organ concerts. The Tea Room serves in the course of the year around 15,000 customers. In addition is the greater number who just pop in to pray, or visit and take photographs. Numbers signing the visitors book, or taking tourist guides in seven languages are but a small fraction of consumers passing through, leading us to estimate that quite apart from its regulars, St John's welcomes 40-50,000 visitors a year.

I hope my successor will not be absorbed so much by church management as to lose sight of the challenge presented by all these passing people, to give a positive witness to the faith we live by and exist to proclaim.

Timely measures

2010-03-10T21:38:00.000Z

How delighted were all who attended today's midday Eucharist to have Percy back with us after a spell in hospital. His singing is much missed by the choir on Sundays. The morning was bright and sunny, and having him with us was 'value added', as far are we're concerned.

Mike, one of the craftsmen who worked on the renovation and redecoration of the church in 2008 is back with us, constructing much needed additional drainage channels in the north churchyard. This measure will help reduce the ingress of damp, one of the knock-on effects of such abundant extra rainfall.

Slowly, St John's is taking protective measures to mitigate the new impacts of climate change on the building. Our geothermal expert technicians have been in and out this past week, measuring and evaluating the environment of the church to inform their proposals for a geothermal energy strategy for the building. It's a lot more complex and subtle than I had originally envisaged, but this is partly because new technological solutions are now coming on stream very rapidly. I'd like to think that what we're doing is timely.

End in view

2010-03-08T21:09:00.000Z

This afternoon we re-started 'God on Mondays', two weeks into term, after the school OFSTED inspection, which has concentrated all attention and sapped collective energy since it was announced at the start of the winter term. I really wonder if the impact of this process is as good for the schools as a thoroughgoing evaluation is meant to be. Everyone already does their best for the sake of the kids, and that's evident from even the most cursory of visits. I wonder what the 'added value' element of inspection consists of, and how it can be quantified? Still, I might say the same about the Monday afternoon Family Services I have been conducting over the past four years. Will my successor think this worth continuing? Or think of something better, more attractive and relevant to help nurture the faithful who still value this link to the pastoral and liturgical life of the parishes that support the life of the school?

There are three God on Mondays sessions in this half term. I'm using them to look at characters who appear in the Passion story. Then, the day before term ends, Fr Roy and I will distribute Palm crosses to the children, and that will be the end of my pastoral engagement with the school, over the five years since the last Curate of St James left the Parish and was not replaced. Will retirement mean the end of my ministry to children, I wonder? I would like to have done a lot more, but holding the whole Parish together, survival in this era of resource starvation has meant that there's been less time for people (children included), and more time just coping with running a big public voluntary enterprise hemmed in by some many administrative and legal checks and balances. I have never been happy with that. And retire discontented at the inevitability of iit all.

Retirement landmark

2010-03-07T22:11:00.008Z

The weather was kind enough to allow me to cycle to church for the eight o'clock this morning, and that meant I was a bit fresher and more awake than usual when I went to the altar. I love the early morning time of quiet prayer. But, I'm a night bird, and getting to sleep early enough to wake up feeling fresh has always been difficult, making it an effort to get into gear. Trouble is, on clear evenings I love to go out and look at the stars in the silence of night before surrendering to sleep, and that equals Late. Among the early worshippers was a young woman from Malaysia who's been to the eight o'clock before, she's on a work placement in the University Registry. She said that the temperature at home was 40 degrees centigrade. In Cardiff, it was just above zero. She didn't seem to be suffering from the cold like those of us present, two or three times her age!

At the Parish Eucharist I counted half a dozen single women among unfamiliar faces, in addition to the average three dozen regulars. Unusual. I wonder why? I spoke with two of them - one was from Italy, here on a language course for three months. The other was a student passing through from Freiburg im Breisgau, a University town near Basel and the Swiss border, gateway to the Black Forest. It's marvellous the way visitors discover St John's, and seem receptive to our very traditional ways of worship and hospitality. I'd like to think that doing things well and wholeheartedly is the secret.

As we finished the evening office of Compline, preceded by Lenten address, our young Malaysian returned with her camera. She wanted to take photos of the daffodils that still decorated the church after last Monday's St David's Day service, and Margaret's funeral to send home. She was so disappointed to discover they'd all been spirited away after the Parish Eucharist. However, I was able to offer her the consolation of access to the Parish web photo archive, where I'd posted, Monday night, 65 photos taken by Pauline and me on my camera, and by Anna Morell, Archbishop's press officer, on hers. The album is here.

The offer took a little time to deliver. I couldn't remember the long web address of the photos, so I needed to pick it up on-line and write it down for her. Simple? No. The church office is so cold that some times computer boot-up procedure, meant to be 2 minutes under Linux, twice as long for Windows (I run both systems in the office in case one has a hissy fit on me in an emergency) seems to pause forever in mid-process as if the system is broken. Just like me getting up in the morning. So I sat for an age in freezing cold when I should have been upstairs in the choir vestry making an efficient start to the PCC meeting, due to begin five minutes after the end of the service. I arrived twenty minutes after the due start time, and fifteen minutes of that delay was waiting for the computer to perform. Perhaps we should put thermal lagging for the office computer on the next PCC agenda.

It was a good meeting, driven by shared awareness of key items of interest, rather than my steering of the agenda. This was my last full PCC meeting. There were no expressions of sentiment, just the usual business, with lots of full and free exchange, as it would be, whether I was there to chair the meeting or not. The life and mission of the church has to continue, with or without a Vicar in the inspirational moments and in dull routine periods. These are people who keep their eye on the ball.

I feel so privileged to have had this spell as their leader, and am happy to know that, no matter how well or badly the bosses discharge their responsibility to re-appoint, St John's will continue active in service as the spiritual heart of the city centre.

Losing our religion

2010-03-06T18:44:00.003Z

A quiet Saturday was just what I needed after such a taxing week. After a late breakfast we went over to our house in Meadow Street, to inspect kitchen installation progress, now that that job is nearning completion. We then went out and bought ourselves a ceiling light fitting, ready for next week's electrician visit, and travelled on to Penarth to have lunch in a small eatery we like, with quirky sixties 'continental' décor.

While we were at table a lively mixed group of young adolescents came in for a cuppa and a chat. I wasn't following their conversation, but at a certain point one of them started rehearsing the Lord's Prayer, as if trying to remember it for some reason. Quickly the whole group joined in saying it together, demonstrating I guess who could and couldn't remember the text - not with a feeling for it as prayer, but much in the same way that a memorised poem or pop lyric might be said, as if they were challenging one another to remember. A curious phenomenon. What does it signify, I wonder?

After our return home, I walked into town to get some wild bird seed and fish pie mix (to cook paella for supper) from the Market. On the way, I passed another group of slightly older adolescents. One of them was tearing up a booklet and scattering its leaves - opposite the Police Station and Law Courts. Some of the group were laughing and others reproaching him with a concealed admiration at his daring. I spotted the discarded cover. The booklet was the text of Saint John's Gospel, probably acquired from one of the evangelists who operate on the streets of the city centre from time to time.

Deliberate blashphemy? Sure. An offence to literature and literacy lovers, as well as religious folk. This age of cheap print publication and disposable literature has made some Christians keen to distribute scripture in the most profligate way, taking the chance that people will read rather than hoard or discard the gift. It's true that in deprived and impoverished countries, the gift of scripture and literacy are cherished highly. But here, where we have excess of everything, too many words, too much rubbish in print, it's a different matter. Not to be able to value a book, not to be able to respect holy scripture is a profound handicap for a young person - a recipe to nourish fascism.

How do we teach upcoming generations respect and value for that which is to be treasured most?

Farewell Margaret

2010-03-05T18:50:00.002Z

Over eighty people gathered to say farewell to Margaret this morning. I felt unable to sit down and write either a homily or a tribute, and had to trust that when I opened my mouth something worthy would come out. Pauline's voice was full of her sadness as she read the Epistle : "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race ..." I felt the same too, as I read and spoke, but managed to get through without cracking up. But all in all our sadness was filled with the light of our love for her, and the sun shining in, making all the daffodils glow. I'd like to think Margaret would have been comforted by the occasion if she'd been taking part.

As I awaited the arrival of the hearse outside Thornhill Crematorium I saw a pair of buzzards circling high above the fields below the Wenallt on the north side. It reminded me of life in Geneva, and trips through the Vaudois countryside on Sunday afternoons, going to Gingins to take a service, and seeing several pairs of buzzards in the course of ten miles on back roads. Then, after the brief committal ceremony, it was back to St John's to celebrate the noon Eucharist and deliver the third Lenten meditation, then afterwards to join the rest at the post funeral reception, the Tea Room being closed for the day.

Finally, a brief visit to Tredegarville school to hear the first reports of the OFSTED inspection. All round, a 'very good' verdict, with 'outstanding' for Pastoral Care and Religion teaching. It's what I'd expect, but it's so good to have that confirmed objectiverly by outsiders. The staffd are alll pelased, but quite exhausted after the ordeal, which has dominated their lives for the past couple of months. Isn't there a better way? I wonder.

Moving on

2010-03-04T21:37:00.000Z

Archdeacon David Lee stood in for me at the lunchtime Eucharist today, enabling me to officiate at the funeral of the mother of one of the St John's Priory Headquarters staff. This entailed a journey over to the Gwent Crematorium in Croesyceiliog, and a reception afterwards in the Rhiwderin Inn on then outskirts of Bassaleg. It was a beautifully sunny if chilly day, and a countryside, although still wintry, looked as if was about to break out into spring, with crocusses in abundance, though very few open daffodils outside. I was given a lift back to Cardiff through the lanes over Caerphilly mountain, via Rudry and Lisvane. The views of the city were uplifting, after the sadness of sharing a bereavement.

Then at six o'clock, we received Margaret Kemp's body into St John's overnight, and I celebrated a requiem Eucharist with over thirty friends and family present. The church was still awash with the scent and colour of the hundreds of daffodils brought in for Monday's Mayoral service. We decided to leave them in place as a special tribute to Margaret. We knew she'd delight in them. Afterwards someone reflecting on her passing spoke unwittingly of the continuing decline of the congregation. Not, so I had to say, with three adults and two children confirmed in the past six months and several other newcomers joining us regularly. The growth is not remarkable, but it has been steady and slow, and more than the net losses of people through death or moving on. I'd like to think this will continue for my successor also, as I move on.

What do we really want?

2010-03-03T22:12:00.005Z

After today's noon Eucharist, a meeting of the 2020 focus group at the Castle, to look at the latest developments in the work on pedestrianising the environment of High Street, and hear about a scheme that will involve local businesses in becoming stakeholders in the management of funding that is to be applied to their local environment, having a say in spending priorities and in how the area is marketed. We heard that marketing the Castle Quarter is now getting attention. This is something I was researching two years ago. I must get in touch with the project leader and make sure that St John's is understood to be part of the Quarter publicity design concept from the outset, and maybe promote some of the ideas and work I've already done on this, while I still can.

The problem is that as soon as there's a vacancy, no familiar face to relate to, the business of securing appropriate inclusion soon goes by the wayside, and years go by before the opportunity is there again. Maybe it's just as well that we're only moving across the Taff, and not across the Severn or the Channel. For a while at least I may be able to keep some useful church interests alive before handing them over, as opposed to leaving them to wither and die.

After the meeting, a trip over to school for a meeting with another inspector, reviewing the pastoral role which Roy and I share in school - a lot easier than yesterday's meeting. It was good to see staff relaxing as they came to the end of what had been an intense and demanding three days. As if life in school wasn't intense and demanding enough already.

Then, an evening meeting up at 'the Res' church hall, as Glanely's Church of the Resurrection is called. It's over 25 years since I was last there to preach at Martin Reynold's first Mass. Now I was invited to speak to a two dozen strong ecumenical Lent group about Faith Communities and Climate Change. It was a first outing for me as a speaker on this subject, and enjoyed the challenge and the dialogue that ensured.

I learned that there were ructions going on because this event clashed with a Lent Talk given by Bishop David as part of a Lent wide series across the diocese. I checked when I got home, when I discovered that I too stood among the accused. I didn't really take in the publicity for this series, or think it relevant to me, a) because it was tied to a diocesan adult basic education course I am not using because my constituency has moved on from repeating basics; b) the first publicity for it arrived after I'd started planning my Lent programme (pressed by Richard's request for diary dates in advance for the magazine), and was approached at the planning stage of the Ely Lent series. In other words, the launch of the Bishop's initiative was already too late. Having been launched in the January 'ad clerum', a reminder was omitted from the February edition, so many forgot, if they hadn't already dismissed the invitation on practical grounds.

I don't suppose I am alone in regarding Epiphany as the trigger point for starting to look ahead to Lent. If some set of Lent events is going to take place that is meant to take precedent over local planning, then it has to be announced at least by the beginning of Advent if not earlier to allow for adjustments to be made in habitual programme schemes. It's hard enough to get people to commit to local Lent activities, let alone get them to visit the Cathedral or some such other place. But most importantly, the uncomfortable question: who has said they want the Bishops do put on this kind of event? How was the decision made, by whom? What mechanisms do we have for establishing what people want by way of teaching ,encouragement and support from their bishops or diocesan teams?

I sympathise with the frustration of those putting on poorly attended events, having gone through all that with the Lent Lectures, which I finally killed off three years ago. I know that St John's parishioners like to have some Lenten input, but find the time commitment difficult when they are juggling so many other things in their lives. That's why I do talks, print them, podcast them. I make the offer in several ways, but I know I can't impose, and demand their attention or attendance. I work on material because it's my job 'in season and out of season' as Paul would say. Part of my spiritual discipline is to do the work, and do it for people I know and live with. That's so much harder when you have a couple of hundred different communities to live and work with. Having a variety of ways to reach them all is essential. Timing is essential too.

Now that there's not even a meaningful debating opportunity at the annual diocesan conference, I wonder how constructive conversations between the grass roots and the leadership can be re-awakened. I don't think we see enough of our Bishops and other senior people alongside us in the parishes any longer. They may well come for big special events, but it's in the mudane and ordinary events that time can be found for more creative listening and debate. But these days we're all plagued by too much admin, too many committees. So when do we really meet and learn from each other what we really want of being part of the church today?

Packing, speaking, accounting and scribing

2010-03-02T23:47:00.001Z

I packed glassware this morning. We're clearing fine Victorian sideboard, prior to auction. It has to be sold, as it will not fit in our retirement home. It's an even smaller house than the one in which we first lived when I was a curate - the occasion when we acquired this piece of furniture. It has accompanied us throughout my ministerial life. Letting it go is a hard wrench - so many memories are associated with it.

After lunch, the Tuesday Group gathered with me in church for a special Lent service. This year I could not manage a whole series for them as I have done this past three years, just a single one. That's the measure of how much extra there is to fit in during this period of preparation to move one. A dozen of them turned out, the most I've had for such a service. I felt honoured by their support and appreciation expressed.

Then it was off to school to meet one of the OFSTED inspectors, visiting for the first three days of this week to discuss the governors' role in financial management of the school. It was quite a perplexing encounter. I was not sure of its objective, and it seemed as if we were talking quite different languages when it came to engaging with the matter of understanding the meaning of value for money in purchasing policy. I wonder if we're being 'softened up' for the harshness of impending state cutbacks in education. Will the inspectors report exhort us governors to acquire more training in the governor finance role. i.e. get brainwashed in education authority bureau- speak, rather than insisting they learn to address the realities on the ground in the way the people on the ground have to in order to survive? I confess I am suspicious.

Education has, to my mind become all too much a political football, subject to fads and fashions, and psuedo science. Pedagogy is an art, and it can be a costly art, for that matter. Governors are there to ensure that teachers can practice their art well and happily, not for the comfort of bean counters and remote managers. They need to be accountable to teachers and children, not the other way around,

After this unsatisfactory encounter, it was a matter of rushing home to get ready for a Street Carers Representative Group meeting in County Hall, and agreeing our plans for a volunteer training programme that will take us through the rest of this year. I still take notes at these meetings and run the Street Carers' blog. A long tiring day.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi

2010-03-01T23:45:00.000Z

This morning, St John's welcomed the annual service of the Lord Mayor of Cardiff for the other Mayors of Wales, prior to the annual St David's Day parade around the city centre. It was perfect occasion with blue sky and crisp air, and enough of a breeze to make the mayoral flag flutter on the St John's tower flagpole during the event.

It began with the surprise arrival of the Archbishop of Cardiff, our nearer neighbour, whom we we delighted to see along with our own Archbishop Barry, who was preaching, and we were able to seat them on opposite sides of the sanctuary in splendour. Archdeacon Peggy and Barry's new chaplain the Very Revd Chris Whittall also came and occupied thrones on high, to add to the pomp of the occasion.

A boy and a girl Scout of the 'Lord Mayor's Own' troop carried the mayoral maces in procession before him, and a Royal Welsh College brass quintet played a special welcoming fanfare before the service began. This was the event I'd hoped to see happen back in November to celebrate the end of the city centre redevelopment phase, but it had proved impossible to communicate with ecumenical leadership in the city to make it happen. I was so glad that after a a little behind the scenes diplomatic activity, it proved possible to have this theme absorbed into the annual Mayoral service. Barry had already been booked to preach, and I'd begun to brief him on the content and theme of the sermon back in August last year. The outcome was just right for the occasion, positive in every sense and appreciative of all the good things that years of effort in planning and construction have brought, for the benefit of all citizens.

There was a good cross section of people involved in the whole project present, although some notable omissions. For some reason I cannot fathom, Paul Williams, the city centre manager was not invited - one of the most pro-active contributors to keeping the place running and building morale and expectation during the years of great upheaval and confusion, left out of the guest list. Why? Paul Manning the city's project manager wasn't there for another reason - an urgent admission to hospital with heart problems. No doubt, a product of the stress under which he has worked over the past seven years I have known him, and just as he is about to retire.

After the service, there was a reception in St David's Hall and then the parade to watch, with great crowds of people in festive costume all along the Hayes, with music and speeches on a small stage in Hills Street. Sunshine throughout. What a pleasure!

Clare and I were also invited to the banquet in City Hall in the evening. We were entertained by singing school children beforehand, and Prince Charles' harpist during supper. She spoke about her role afterwards in a delightful touching way, referring to the beautiful glamorous party dress she was wearing and had worn on several royal occasions and one a match day. She had a story for each occasion. That made me feel very proud. Here was a Welsh girl, something of a musical celebrity, who wasn't telling stories about the special dresses she'd worn (by great designers or at great expense), but remembering the special associations of the one dress she was proud to wear and grace the Prince's events with. Different values, so much more honourable. It's in the little things (as St David would say) that our true worth can be witnessed.

Confirmation Day

2010-02-28T23:07:00.004Z

This morning for a change I preached briefly and directly to the three confirmation candidates present at the Parish Eucharist. The confirmation was at St Margaret's at the same time as our evening service. This proposed a dilemma for me as I was meant to deliver my second Lent Talk at that hour, but wanted to be with the candidates.

However, I had the idea last Sunday of asking Pauline to deliver it for me, and she agreed, so I was able to join the confirmands. Such a treat to present two children and one adult in the months just before I retire. That's three adults and two children altogether within four months. These are the first candidates since St John's and Cathays separated into two parishes, and they were well supported by family friends and members of the congregation.

The church was full. Bishop David delivered the third original confirmation sermon I have heard from him in three services. Andrew, looking after St John's, emailed me later to say how superbly Pauline had delivered my Lenten address.

Tosca on match day

2010-02-26T23:35:00.000Z

I had a funeral today, straight after the midday Eucharist, at Pidgeon's funeral chapel over on Cowbridge Road. A car was arranged to pick me up from church, but turned up late because the driver went to the Vicarage instead, and had to double back through the growing queue of traffic arriving in town for the evening's Rugby international. So I stood out on St Mary Street in the cold wind for twenty minutes, before the car arrived, and we managed to reach our destination and get started only a few minutes late.

After the service, I saw the widow sitting on her own in a large stretch limousine - all the friends and relations seemed to have come in their own cars - so rather than ride in the hearse I joined her and we chatted all the way to Thornhill. I don't think she wanted to be on her own. It just happened because nobody involved had given it much thought. It was cold and windy at the graveside for the brief commital ceremony, and I was pleased to see that a few friends and relations were alongside her when I left to return to church and finish tasks left off earlier in the day.

I was tired when I got home at tea time, but fortunately not chilled by the harsh wind. I perked up when Clare reminded me that we were due to be at the Millennium Centre for Puccini's 'Tosca' after an early supper. It's my favourite melodrama, and this time we arrived in good time to see all three acts. Last time it was on, we forgot we'd booked until half way through supper. We dashed down and caught the second and third act. It was basically the same production, different singers, so this time we got the full picture.

The end of the first act comes with the announcement of Bonaparte's victory over the Italians at Marengo, leading to a re-instatement of the old regime. There's a procession and Te Deum in the church of San Andrea in Valle, where the unfolding drama of the first act is set. In other productions, it's a procession of the Blessed Sacrament, with prelates in attendance. In this version, a papal procession was depicted - surely an error, as the church in question is well outside the Vatican walls, and not the sort of place a pope would appear in public within minutes of the death knell of a regime unsympathetic to the pope being announced. Annoying details - must check!

It took us half an hour to do a ten minute journey home, as the late rugby match crowds were hitting the road roughly the same time as we were crossing the city centre. Wales lost it seems.

Discarded memories

2010-02-24T22:27:00.001Z

The builders have now started work preparing for the installation of our new kitchen in the house in Meadow Street which will be our home in retirement. As Tredegarville School has an INSET day there was no 'God on Mondays' this week. Tuesday we went up to Worcester to have lunch with old friends Mike and Gail, for a pleasant few hours escape from the mess and the decisions.

Having moved Owain into his tidy new abode, it's time to shuttle car loads of redundant stuff accumulated over the past eighteen years of house ownership to the nearest city dump. Carpets, an old filing cabinet, redundant ancient electrical bits and pieces. It's also been time to go through the remaining crates of old files, with some dating back forty and fifty years. Deciding what to keep and what to discard as part of downsizing is still hard. One gets glimpses of long disregarded memories, awakened by finding a batch of correspondence or an old magazine. How nice it would have been to go through everything, maybe digitize some material for future reference.

The reason for keeping so much was that one day I might write a memoir of church life from my experience during the period of my ministry. That was before I had the guts to scrutinise my own decision, asking: Who'd want to read it anyway? I've been in public ministry during interesting times and been fortunate to have such rich and varied experiences, but for the most part I've been a spectator in significant times rather than a participant. The privilege has been to preach the Gospel in this amazing era, and take the world to God in prayer. For this I am most grateful.

Tuesday night, there was a mountain of green recycling bags in between the bins, ready for collection, heavy with paper, half a dozen of them, taking away the fine print detail of a work life that acquired many documents and records for one purpose or another (not to mention teaching notes and sermons). These have been rarely consulted even for sentimental purposes down the years, perhaps because I tend to live too much in the present. All those papers represent an opportunity to re-insert myself into my past. Sometimes the past revisits me of its own accord, and that seems sufficient now that I am resigned to relying solely on stories capable of decent recollection. Anyway, the future is more interesting, and thankfully un-documented.

At the end of Monday afternoon I drove out to St Mellons with birth and marriage certificates to be verified by the staff member of Quantum Advisory, an agency which manages the Church in Wales Pension scheme on behalf of the Representative Body. In the post over the weekend came a similar verification request from the Church of England Pensions Board, with several forms to fill in, including one very strange one relating to tax allowance on pensions over the estimated lifetime of the pensioner. The entitlement is £1.75 million. If I live until I'm ninety, I may get to receive about a fifth of that sum in total. I wonder how many church pensioners with more lucrative careers behind them get anywhere near exhausting their entitlement?

Finally Wednesday evening, I completed the last of the podcasts. It's been my late evening project this past week, in between attacks on the crates of paper files. Internet files don't take up much space at home, that's for sure. There was a news item about recording inactive websites for posterity, such as those used by politicians who go out of office, or as campaign platforms - and all those news pages in their various edits as well, I guess. They may be out there, disused on a server, but over time because of growth of internet content and traffic, they become harder to access, to the point where it takes so long they've effectively disappeared and are lost. Concern is rising that a great deal of information about the Age of Information is more ephemeral than we imagine, and won't outlast us, as the paper records of the past half millennium have done. But like my old files on their way to recycling - material of any importance would have found more use than it actually did. So what's with this compulsion we have to hoard useless stuff?

The alternative to bi-location

2010-02-21T22:15:00.001Z

After the morning services and lunch, I had the two junior confirmation candidates for an hour's session before we went together to St Margaret's for a rehearsal. There will be twentyone candidates from Roath and three from St John's. I really enjoyed sitting and listening to the Vicar Fr Stuart Lisk taking the candidates gently through the choreography of the occasion, nice not to have to think about it, but just soak in the atmosphere, reflectively, prayerfully.

Then, it was back to St John's for Compline and the first Lent Talk. I've been puzzling for a past week about what to do next Sunday night, when I have to be present for the Confirmation at the same time as Compline, and so will not be able to deliver it in person. Should I rig the church public address system to relay the podcast? Or get someone to read it for me? Then, it occurred to me to ask Pauline, who enjoys the spoken word as much as she enjoys singing. I was delighted that she graciously accepted the challenge - I hope the sentences I've strung together make sense for her as they do for me. Sometimes I have to re-read my own stuff several times to get the rhythm and punctuation correct. I hope it'll be an experience everyone enjoys.

Podcast time again

2010-02-19T21:50:00.000Z

An overnight trip for us to Kenilworth this afternoon, to celebrate Rhiannon's sixth birthday. She has a family celebration tomorrow, then all her little school friends on Sunday afternoon. Having not seen her since Christmas, the changes in her over a couple of months are more obvious. Schooling agrees with her, and she produced a lovely welcome card for us, with carefully executed designs, showing dexterity and powers of concentration.

Anthony was fresh back from a London trade show where he'd been promoting his soundtrack music business, talking about the problems he'd been having with his re-vamped, stylish website. Although definitely more user friendly, its very size now means that consistency checking every one of several hundred links is a long laborious process. Been there, done that, I thought, now I'm recording and uploading new podcasts of my Lent Talks for this year, trying to get them all done uploaded to the web server and scheduled to display a new one for public download each week of Lent. The number of errors I can make in executing such a modest routine task is utterly bothersome. I should have learned to touchtype decades ago. By the way, the podcast link is here

Ash Wednesday outing

2010-02-17T23:22:00.002Z

I met up with my two junior confirmation candidates for an hour in church before the midday Eucharist and Liturgy of penitence, and gave them an introduction to the traditional vocabulary of church architecture and liturgy. Real familiarisation with 'church' language takes a long time, but it has to begin somewhere, and should begin with confirmation if not before.

A journalism student came in and filmed the church before and during the service, to which I had consented by email, but was so busy with the kids I had not found time to welcome him and tell him what he could and couldn't do. As a result, he partially blocked the entrance to the chancel where the service was held, in the usual unselfconscious way that possesses people when they get behind a camera lens. But we survived without incident. In fact, he left after the Gospel, giving him plenty of film footage with which to convey a misleading impression of what really happens in the Ash Wednesday Liturgy. I was pleased that the chancel was full, however, with two dozen people present and twenty communicants.

Our outing then moved in somewhat rainy conditions to St Fagans Musem to see the completed St Teilo's church, transplanted from Pontarddulais. All its walls are now covered with frescos in the fifteenth century rustic manner - together with a reconstructed highly decorative rood screen, it's a brilliant exercise in creative restoration work. And, the paintings were done by Fleur Kelly, whom we've invited to work on paintings to enhance our font cover. The response of the children to all the decorative art was revelatory. I was astonished at how well versed they were in the wide range of biblical stories represented on the walls, a sign of not only good schooling, but Norma Thomas's influence on them in Sunday school for most of their lives. There were obscure images and symbols that needed decoding, but we had fun guessing who was who of the twelve apostles depicted on the rood screen. On such a damp day we benefited from the geothermal heating installed in the church too.

Last call was Llandaff Cathedral, already familiar to Matthew who is a Bishop of Llandaff High School Boy, but not to Bethan who is in top Juniors. It was a pleasure to have him introducing her to his favourite parts of the building. All in all we covered as much ground in our five hours together as we would have in three classes. In all of the preparation it's a matter of opening the door to an experience that will encourage further curiosity, as they grow up in the community of faith. That's as much as can be hoped for. What thrilled me was to see what a marvellous aid to catechism the ancient popular western iconographic tradition may have been in a society that had proportionally fewer literate people, and relied more on oral memory and visual cues. Far better than flash powerpoint presentations any day.

The rain continued in the evening, and there were only half the number at the Eucharist than had been present at lunchtime. Alex and Huw came. She's decided definitely 'yes' for confirmation, and her parents and coming down for the occasion. Brilliant.

House moving

2010-02-16T23:08:00.003Z

Half of Monday, plus Tuesday evening I spent ferrying car loads of Owain's belongings from our Meadow Street abode to his new shared house off City Road. Over a ton of vinyl records, at my estimate, plus his recording equipment. The house has to be cleared so that the builders can work on installing the new kitchen and sanding the floors we want to restore. There's lots of junk to clear out as well.

Amanda and James came over from Bristol to spend a couple of nights with us. It's nice having such a well mannered and polite teenager in the house, who is curious about many things. He and I went out for walks in Bute Park and across the barrage, while Clare and Amanda started to do some sorting of the remainder of stuff left by Owain, for chucking out or re-cycling via the charity shops.

In between times I had a go at recording the first of my Lent Talks to turn into a podcast. The equipment worked fine, but feeling a bit under pressure, keen to get something done before Ash Wednesday, ready for the weekend, I made hard going of simply delivering the text coherently into a microphone. This means it takes that much longer to edit. Well, I guess it's a year since I did the last lot, and I'm out of practice. It gets easier once there's one complete.

Valentine Transfigured

2010-02-14T22:51:00.000Z

Tom and Marilyn came to the eight o'clock this morning before heading off after breakfast to visit their daughter in Porthcawl for lunch, so there were eight of us - a rarity these days.

At the Sung Eucharist, Andrew preached, managing to get St Valentine in, as well as addressing the Transfiguration theme in a useful way. Afterwards I chatted with a young couple preparing to wed during the summer. They've moved in locally and started attending church chez nous a couple of months ago. Huw comes from Crickhowell and remembers my contemporary Brian Bessant who was Vicar there for two periods either side of a spell in Cyprus back when he was young. Alex his fiancée is wondering about confirmation, so I made her an offer, to be our third parish candidate for 28th February. Having attended a convent school she has the kind of background which means she isn't coming to this from scratch. I don't think it will be too difficult to bring her forward confident that this is her right time and occasion. To see it as preparation for getting married is something special.

There's a lot of good things happening just now, despite the sadness of losing Margaret. This week another step towards re-paving the south churchyard entrance path was made with the arrival of an estimate for the work. It could be done before Easter, though not before the Lord Mayor's annual St David's day service. That's one job I will be glad to have closure on before I retire.

A sad shock

2010-02-13T23:32:00.000Z

I was awakened at ten past seven this morning with the news of the sudden death of Margaret Kemp, St John's most recent nongenarian and Tea Room doyenne, whose birthday celebration was only a week last Saturday. She'd had the cast taken off her mended broken foot last Monday, and the long experience of waiting around in the hospital had left her feeling less buoyant than when she went in.

Yesterday, Pauline who'd visited her in the week said she was still looking unwell. Marion rang to tell me how she'd gone into hospital yesterday afternoon when she was admitted to E&R, and she'd been suffering back pain. They'd stayed together until nine, and left Margaret resting, but the hospital had rung to say she'd died earlier on. She was a youthful and vigorous ninety year old. It's going to be a terrible shock to everyone who knows her, as she was pretty fit and in good health, apart from having broken those bones in her foot.

Tom and Marilyn arrived just after lunch to accompany us to the opera tonight - Mozart's 'Seragio'. Having spent time in the morning phoning around the sad news, then making booklets of this year's Lent Talks, I was glad of the respite. I saw the opera many years ago, I didn't remember the music, so it was refreshing and delightful. It was Tom's first ever opera. I think he was smitten.

Sack cloth fun

2010-02-10T22:16:00.002Z

I stood in for Father Roy Doxsey at the 'class mass' and school assembly this morning, in order to allow him to get away for a few days respite. I improvised a brief introduction to the practice of Ash Wednesday, which will be next week during half term, using a green re-cycling sack, as a way into talking about 'sackcloth and ashes'. The sack, was draped over the shoulders to represent us feeling rubbish about ourselves. The bag wasn't big enough to climb into. Over the head in any way shape or form was absolutely out. It seemed to keep their attention and raise some smiles of recognition from the teachers. I enjoyed doing something I hadn't done before.

Half term will present both problems in taking two Saturday afternoons for Confirmation classes, when families may need to be getting away together, but also opportunities, if it's possible to find free time for a longer weekday seesion. Let's hope so anyway, as this weekend we have guests for the opera, and next week is Rhiannon's sixth birthday, and I'm the one that would like to be away. However, it looks as if the same is true for the others involved as well. We're working on a day that starts in church with a sanctuary and sacristy tour (laced with some history), followed by an outing to St Fagans and Llandaff Cathedral. Let's hope the weather is merciful.

Transport

2010-02-09T22:05:00.000Z

Owain took a couple of days off work to recover from his business trip to Seville. Today, the second of them he devoted to moving his vinyl album collection into his new abode, and I took the afternoon and evening to ferry crates (newly liberated from my on archives) of records for him. He reckons that he has over eight thousand. We must have shifted the best part of 1500 kilos of vinyl across town - and there's more to go, plus his deejay equipment. When his move is all complete, we'll have the house empty for the builders to work on, and our own move to get ready for.

Unloading the past?

2010-02-08T21:30:00.001Z

Today I made myself go up into the loft and tackle the half dozen or more crates of archived documents spanning more than half my life in ministry. Time to sort them out and thin them down to what I'll be able to store in my new half sized study. This was not an easy task, as so much of the material I came across evoked memories as strong as any set of photographs I have processed of late. Old documents publications and letters with a few exceptions had to go. The occasional travel journals and spiritual diaries continue to be hoarded, for quiet future review.

I admit to being a hoarder, but then I used to think that one day I might need all that stuff to write my memoirs. Then I got to the stage of thinking - who would be interested in anything had to say about the last forty years of clerical life? Then last year, I spent a couple of quiet days writing a 'spiritual' autobiography, in an effort to trace some of the key influences that have shaped my life and ministry. It was an act of gratitude more than anything else, not the stuff of an ecclesiastical best seller.

Yet, funnily enough, I always wanted to be a writer and to publish books. The one book I have written received sympathetic attention from a religious publisher who declared that there was no longer a market for the subject. It's only one person's opinion, but it made me think why waste time courting book publishers? Eventually I put a download link to the book files from this blog. A few people have found it there say they have read it. That'll have to do.

Together with a huge load of ancient school governor material and outdated City Council publications, I had a full car load to take for re-cycling. It's more than a year since my last throw out of old material. The fact that old documents arouse memories makes me wonder, does throwing them away mean that recollection will be that much harder? Is this where old age memory loss starts? I put it like that because those materials - papers, pamphlets, pictures, minutes, letters, newsprint, OHP slides, diagrams, teaching notes are more than just raw data. Feelings are attached to them. These are part of the memory, and can be the key to unlocking other buried memories - like the Proustian madeleine biscuit.

There were twenty at 'God on Monday' this afternoon. Next week it's half term. The following Monday is an INSET days, the Monday after that is St David's day and the beginning of the school OFSTED inspection. Then we re-start, and after four Lenten sessions, it'll be the end of term and Holy Week, and for me, the end of 'God on Mondays', a much valued occasion of my ministry in the school over the past four years. It'll end in its present form with my departure. Who knows what new creative impulse my successor will contribute to the school?

Times have changed and a fresh approach is needed. The school is a busier place these days, and I wonder if this means that associated informal worship activity hasn't been crowded out of the mainstream priorities in its life. It's changed beyond recognition since the closure of St James'. No doubt it will change again, with a fresh mind and pastoral heart applied to the situation. There's no shortage of good will, on the part of parents and staff, that's for sure. All things are possible.

Sexagesima

2010-02-07T21:00:00.000Z

I noticed a couple of days ago that somebody has started a Facebook group to recruit a million members before the end of June (and the Pope's visit) to declare their belief in Evolution. I guess this is part of the annoying 'social' fall out of the Pope criticising UK Equalities legislation on the grounds that it was contrary to Natural Law - well his version of it. There are, after all, different schools and theories of Natural Law - protestant, catholic, muslim, humanistic, etc.

As the lectionary theme for Sexagesima is 'Creation', I thought I'd have a go at talking about what belief in a divine Creator means, and raise the question of whether the notion of 'belief' in Evolution was a false contrast of categories. Belief in a divine creator is sui generis. Evolution is an observable process within the cosmic order, like gravity or entropy. These are contingent facts of existence, rather than the necessary fact of existence, and consideration of the source of being itself, if I recall the things we struggled to grasp in undergraduate philosophy classes. Some of that stuff is still unravelling itself to me forty five years later. I'm a slow learner in some things. It makes a change from harping on about the environment, as I often do on this Sunday and Harvest festival.

Keeping such things brief and simple is always the real challenge in preaching, and I am rarely certain I get it right. However today I had a small reward. I was thanked for my efforts by a post graduate pharmacologist, recently arrived and settling in. She too gets fed up with the popular presumption that scientific thinking and discipline compels rejection of faith in God, and was pleased to hear this expressed publicly.

I had intended to go out visiting after lunch, but found myself overtaken by tiredness., and dozed for much of the afternoon. Working more than a week without a break is something I find I'm less capable of these days, even though everything I do is more relaxed. There's no let up, with Lent and Easter to prepare for as well as the confirmations and a couple of baptisms - not to mention preparations to move house. If possible I'd like to face Lent fully prepared this year, and enjoy it, and not be under last minute pressure, as I often have been in the past.

Preparations

2010-02-06T20:32:00.001Z

I had to put on my thinking cap this morning. I've been asked to give a talk about climate change and the churches for an ecumenical Lent group in Ely. I know which direction I want to take the talk, but the challenge is concentrating the key information without it becoming too technical and abstract (and no Powerpoint presentation to hide behind either), in order to be able to raise the questions that are relevant.

Plans are now in place for an meeting on Climate Change and Faith Communities, sponsored by the United Nations Association on 26th March at the Friends Meeting House. I've been asked to chair this, which is a lot easier, unless you're not very comfortable controlling an open meeting - a very different skill from presiding over the liturgy.

I met again with the two Confirmation candidates at tea time, going through the PACTS basic guide to prayer, but also pre-empting some introductory work on how to read the bible. This was because Bethan has sent me a Powerpoint presentation in the week which expounded the awesomeness of the Bible (Revised King James Version), by showing a number of trivial statistics about the number of chapters, pointing to God being in the middle of it all. It was packaged with nice nature images and a chain letter style invitation to proflerate its content.

It was very American in its piety, also very misleading, as if RKJV wasn't one of many editions and translations of scripture into different languages, ignoring the Deuterocanonical books, as Protestant fundamentalism does to its own discredit. So, in acknowledging her contribution, I had to give a preliminary introduction to the idea that the Bible is a portable library of very different books, with a lot more to it than meets the eye. It's not easy for 11-12 year olds to grapple with, when there is so much casual literalism amongst adults as well as children.

Interesting times ahead

2010-02-04T21:04:00.005Z

After the lunchtime Eucharist today, I went to a meeting in the Castle of the Transport, Public Realm and Wayfinding Focus Group. The Countdown 2009 process ended with the re-launch of St David's shopping centre, but is being brought back to life with 2020 as its focus. The meeting began with a presentation giving an overview of the continuing process of redeveloping part of the city centre and Bay areas that is envisaged to take place in the coming decade.

It's rather more than a sketch on the back of an envelope, but the complex and detailed planning and design process has to start by surveying the possibilities, and proposing some ideas that can form the backbone of a briefing for architects and infrastructure planners to work with. Various Focus Groups will be retained and asked to address themselves to giving feedback at an early stage throughout the decade as plans and proposals emerge. There are all sorts of organisations and people outside local and national government administration whose activities will be affected by changes to infrastructure, amenities and services contemplated by future developments. Getting them all to participate at an early stage rather than bringing them in late in the day, only to point out unforeseen snags nobody else had thought of, is a good idea. Something positive has been learned from the Countdown 2009 programme, even though it was a mixed success.

The area both sides of Central Station is one of the main targets for major building projects. By the time High Street and St Mary Street makeovers are complete, a new bus terminal on Wood Street may well be emerging, if plans now being formulated obtain the necessary approvals. The site of Marland House and its neighbouring car park is due for redevelopment. There is land on the south side of the station ripe for redevelopment, and a need for much closer integration of train and bus services, not to mention taxis. The central section of Callaghan Square (referred to disparagingly as "currently a skatepark") is also an area targetted for redevelopment, to make better use of the space, and improve traffic flows.

It was almost the end of the meeting before I managed to raise a discussion about the lack of use of the 'Free B' shuttle bus, although the most recent publicity flyer about it was spread in abundance around the conference table. A bemused and knowing smile spead around the table at the mention, as well it might, given that none of the transport professionals sitting around the table had been involved in setting up the service. The simple answer given to the question of why it wasn't being used was - "Nobody knows where it's going." It's one thing to look at a flyer containing a map of the shuttle service, but users want to know things like : Does it go to the Museum? Does it go past the Hilton or the Angel Hotels? Does it link with the Park & Ride buses? Nobody has yet considered programming the front and rear display panels with a stream of key destinations around the route of the shuttle. But then, the people who dreamed it up and bid for the funds, somewhere else in County Hall, didn't think to seek the advice of people who earn their livings from public transport.

It's all about missed opportunities in communication - indeed, we spent another five minutes debating how this might be remedied, when existing communications strategies don't seem to work as well as they need to for the city's success. Throughout the redevelopment, after a slow start, Land Securities and City Centre Management public relations teams worked energetically to retain public interest in what was happening, and persuade shoppers to stay loyal. The interest shown in launch week and run up to Christmas was a vindication of all their efforts. The Council's communications, team on the other hand, struggled throughout to establish any substantial role in engaging with and informing the public. It indicates the world of difference in between people doing the same job in local government and those driven by the demands of commercial enterprise. Let's not even begin to think about what really drives church efforts to put its message across!

Altogether an interesting meeting for once.

Education for life

2010-02-03T20:16:00.001Z

I had a funeral to take this afternoon, for a former Chancellor of the Order of St John in Wales, Donald McDougall. I was asked to do this as one of the Headquarters Chaplains. The former Prior, Sir Norman Lloyd-Edwards gave the tribute for one of his old colleagues, and it certainly gave me pause to ponder. Donald had left school at sixteen and joined the Post Office, rising through his career to a very senior national position within the organisation - trained on the job at every level, and then by developing the job itself in a position of leadership and responsibility in the sixties and seventies. Could that happen today? I wondered.

We have so many highly qualified and well trained people running the organisation today, but it seems to teeter in the direction of ruin. The staff aren't happy, although most are as devoted and loyal as ever. The finances aren't good, and the bosses seem to be at odds with the organisation they run. Perhaps because all they know is what they've imbibed thoeretically in management school and experimented with in a succession of businesses. There's a lot to be said for the old style of professional formation by apprenticeship and mentoring for leadership, coupled with loyalty to the same organisation and its people. Education for life by life itself where there's a relationship between work and community - something that sadly being lost in this era of high mobility. and excessive ambition. More's the pity.

Bus stop saga - at last a map!

2010-02-02T23:36:00.001Z

A meeting for Paul Hocking and myself this afternoon down the Bay at the offices of HANR, to discuss next steps for developing the Street Carers training programme. We came away with dates for basic training sessions and a couple of advance sessions that will see us through the rest of this year. It was good to hear that the Council's emergency cold weather provision for street people had worked to the satisfaction of those in charge.

I had an email from the Disability Access Focus group team requesting feedback on two current bus transport information publications. Finally, six months after the fateful re-location of all the bus stops entering and leaving the city centre, and three months after seeing the proposed format for a map locating bus stops using a destination index, the map itself is being published, and at the same time comment on its usability sought from disabled passengers and other interested parties. Having struggled to read existing bus stop information while standing at a distance in a shelter with people in it, it struck me that this cannot be easy from the vantage point of wheelchair users, and that the print size on the posters needed to be large. But with a good fifty or so places in the destination index, it would mean a huge poster for genuine readability. We'll see what the producers come up with.

A bundle of pocket bus stop maps arrived in church for general distibution today, plus some revised posters for the free circular shuttle bus, which continues to rattle around empty in its twenty minute orbit around the centre. What a waste of resources, and of a good idea, poorly delivered, with little though to the real needs of bus users whose new departure points had been re-located with information sufficient only to baffle and confuse.

Digital review

2010-01-31T21:17:00.004Z

We kept Candlemass today, ahead of Tuesday, the proper date, so that more people will be able to share in the celebration. Numbers are back to normal now after the cold spell. Andrew was back with us again after his lengthy Christmas break from training. After the Eucharist, a young man made himself known, seeking help. He spoke no English, only Portuguese, however, and it wasn't possible to make any headway in finding out what he wanted or how he came to be in Cardiff asking for help. Asylum seeker? Economic migrant? Abandoned by associates during a trip from home, wherever that is? From where? It wasn't possible tell. Nobody in St John's speaks Portuguese. In the end, Andrew took him over to St David's Cathedral, as there's a much greater degree of linguistic diversity among people worshipping and service there. I wonder if we'll ever find out about him?

After lunch, I revisited Margaret to give her Communion, and then went over to the Heath to see a Percy. Then it was back home to prepare for a PCC meeting after Evensong. Two more Faculties applications need approval - one for new church noticeboards around the perimeter, and another to put forward our proposal to enhance and decorate the font cover. This doesn't need to be part of any grand plan to improve the West entrance or add an extra storey to the vestry block, now under consideration. Both projects are about making known who we are and what we're about as the Parish Church by the market place in the heart of the city.

Fortunately the meeting wasn't too long, so I was able to return home and get my photo digitizer kit out and do some work on rendering some old negatives into a form that can be published on the web. As Clare and I have been sorting through forty years worth of old photos recently, packs of negatives have surfaced relating to our Jordan trip twelve years ago, plus a Greek holiday. It's nice to look at them again. Not all the photos made it out of the wallet. Even before digital photography, I was taking a lot of pictures - too many to take time to mount into albums. Was it , I wonder, a matter of photography getting cheaper, or of us having more to spend on film and processing?

Since the advent of digital cameras I've taken thousands more photos, but few ever get printed now, taking up space as they did prior to my first purchase in 2001. But will digital copies last as long as negatives, slides or prints? In 25 years of computing I've witnessed eight distinctly different changes to the storage media used for digital data of all kinds, quite apart from changes in computers and ways of connecting to them, mostly not backwards compatible. Changes in printed photos over a century were largely changes to the quality and durability of the materials used in print production. We may be able to produce and distribute much higher quality pictures digitally, and easily discard failures at little cost after purchase, but old style prints don't require electricity to view. Will this still be true in half a century from now I wonder?

A party and a confirmation class

2010-01-30T23:09:00.004Z

Today was Margaret's 90th birthday. She fell and broke her foot on Christmas Eve, and is now in a special re-habilitation unit out in St Mellon's, opposite the now world famous shoppers in pyjamas banning Tesco store. She was planning to invite all her friends for a big birthday lunch, but the fall meant it had to be postponed, so several church friends organised a party for her in her residence, where there was a spare day room available that could accommodate a couple of dozen people. And that's how many people showed up, to greet her over an early afternoon glass of wine, sandwiches and cake. It was a joyous occasion, and Margaret was in good form, delighting the being surrounded by friends and family.

I almost lost my concentration on timing with so many people to talk with. I needed to be back home by four thirty for the first Confirmation class with Bethan and Matthew. Clare and I had to make an abrupt exit to avoid them turning up at an empty Vicarage. Despite red lights all the way, we were back on the dot, and despite my feeling of unpreparedness, it was a good session with two children keen to engage, responsive and asking questions. I guess that having taught confirmation classes a dozen times before makes it easier.

Hmm... you'd think that in forty years of ministry I'd have more experience than that. It reflects the decline in young church attenders, decline in those surviving church attendance long enough to want to be confirmed. When Clare and I were sorting out old photos the other day, we came across pictures of Geneva confirmation classes we did together in the nineties, when eight to a dozen teenagers per class was the norm. And that was half the number of confirmands at the start of the seventies when I did my first curacy.

The confirmation service is at the end of February, in St Margaret's Roath, so we have five intensive Saturday sessions. That's represents eight hours 'contact time' - as much as Jenny and I packed in to the weekend confirmation retreat we did together three years ago. It's as much as the kids can manage with their crowded personal and domestic timetables these days. I just hope we can all stay clear of 'flu and colds for the duration.

Where do we go from here?

2010-01-28T22:50:00.001Z

Tonight I attended the local churches together meeting at Tabernacl Baptist church on the Hayes. It's now rebranded as Cytun, City Centre and Bay, a bit of a mouthful, obscure for those who aren't sure they know what Cytun is or does. It's the same group of faithful people, nevertheless, still striving to find a pattern of meeting for prayer and discussion what will attract people to leave the comfort zones of their religious routine, and meet to learn from each other. It's less than a week since our only annual success - a common meal, preceded by worship. Where do we go from here?

I had hoped that the redevelopment of the city centre would provide us with opportunities to combine in witness, maybe mount some kind of festive musical or cultural programme together. Separately all sorts of events happened, but there was no energy to work together at anything new. The Countdown 2009 Faith Focus Group, invited into being by the city's project manager, brought a few folk together periodically for eighteen months or so but attendance was sporadic, certainly not a priority in the eyes of many invited.

I used to think that a serious crisis or threat to the future of the churches might galvanise church members into acting together. Now I am not at all sure. When there are things to protest against, we make a poor job of combining forces. Yet, it's not for lack of good will towards each other. It's as if the Spirit has left us, like the tide leaving the boats immobilised on the strand, stuck where they are ... shades of the Sea of Faith here .... how depressing. It's not what I've hoped for and strived for down the years. Maybe future ecumenism will be the fellowship of believers of many faith traditions who have given up on denominational religion and its institutions and set out in search of something invigorating and new. What will it look like I wonder? Like Taizé? Like the Quakers? Like Solace Pub Church?

Too many words

2010-01-27T22:22:00.002Z

After today's midday Eucharist I attended the annual Holocaust Day memorial event in City Hall. This year's event was jointly organised by the WAG and the City Council, and the place was full - over four hundred people. I'd heard on the grapevine that the organisation of this year's event was something of a nightmare, running way behind schedule. There were a few un-announced changes from the printed programme, but the whole thing ran smoothly throughout.

It is always a serious wieghty sort of occasion, but this year it was also lengthy - over a hundred minutes in fact, with five speeches, (mostly of good quality) several poems, declarations and lengthy readings as well as musical items - too long altogether. I heard a lady behind me whisper to her husband "If only there was less talk and more music." I wasn't sure about some of the poetry either. None of it was familiar, all of it required a degree of study and re-reading to have its full impact in context.

Fr Stuart Lisk, as a Council advisor on events and ceremonies of this kind, acted as host/animateur, with his usual dignity and discretion. Some of the material was certainly crafted by him, and has been used on other occasions, but I got the impression that the overall direction of the event was not in his hands, or else it would have been much more concise. There were some nice symbolic moments, but these were in danger of being stifled by being sandwiched in among so many words. How often is this also true of a churches and their liturgies?

Mind over matter

2010-01-26T18:44:00.001Z

This afternoon I took a trip to Blackmill in the Ogwr Valley, to visit a community centre in a former chapel, to take part in a small adult learner's group finding out about computer security, part of the digital inclusion project run by Novasscarman's tech guys in various Communities First programme areas. It was good to listen to an experienced professional at work on these issues and a comfort not to feel entirely at sea with the subject material, although I do have some catching up to do in some areas. The group members all seemed to be about my age, I wondered if there were any younger people in need of acquiring ICT skills - the generation that missed out on that in schooling, or didn't use computers in their work life.

The Ogwr valley is beautiful, if lagging behind economically since the end of mining failed to bring any replacement job creation there. The scars of industry have greened over, but people living there have to commute to Bridgend or beyond for work. A nice place to bring up children, except that there's little to attract children back to stay at the end of their education years. I've seen the same in the Swiss Jura where the watchmaking industry was the main economic powerhouse for a century or more, both in factories and as a cottage industry. It has nearly all disappeared with the advent of digital clock mechanisms whose main component manufacturing bases are in the Far East. Where watches are still assembled there, it requires a small fraction of the size of the old workforce, so unemployment and rural de-population are inevitable.

One of the values of getting people up to date with computer usage and the range of tools available, is that they can find for themselves ways to pursue their interests, acquire skills and take initiatives that may benefit themselves and others. I heard the story of someone who had only used a most basic out of date by modern standards digital drawing and painting program, controlled by a standard mouse to create some remarkable art-works. High levels of precision control using a mouse are notoriously difficult to attain. Touchpad and digital pen technologies have been developed to overcome this limitation, but the artist in question had developed himself, either not knowing about alternative tools or not being able to afford them. That's what I call 'mind over matter'. The more ways that can be opened for ordinary people in deprived backwaters to discover their own creative gifts, the more hope there can be for the Valleys in the future.

Welcoming the world, as usual

2010-01-24T19:51:00.003Z

We were joined at the eight o'clock Eucharist this morning by a young woman from Malaysia who has come to work at Cardiff University's financial administration department on secondment from her home university for three months. She must have been exploring the city early in the morning, as she'd be used to doing back home, to find a place of worship. Main services in tropical regions often take place early in the day while it is cooler. Our cold damp climate must be a shock for her.

At the ten o'clock Eucharist we welcomed Sophie Anna Purvis into church. She was baptized last Sunday in her daddy's parish church outside Preston. Her Romanian granny was there as well as her English grandparents. Recently, a tall quiet foreign student has been sharing in this service, but I didn't have the opportunity to catch him for a conversation until now. This week he arrived with a girl friend - his fiancée - who'd come to join him for the weekend from Marseille where they live. I had the pleasure of chatting to them both in French after the service, and was pleased to learn that he had found himself comfortably at home chez nous, although our style is probably more traditional than what he's used to back home. There were also an African couple the congregation that I hadn't seen before, but they slipped out before I could greet them.

The hand out of the electoral roll renewal application forms plus the skills audit forms began after the service and quite soon, several people told me they were not going to complete the skills audit forms - and this was from skilled and already highly committed people, suspicious of the intention, fearful that they might get called upon to volunteer in situations beyond the call of duty. It's not much fun for the elderly either, who feel there's little they are fit for any longer. Getting them to accept that their prayers and encouragement of others, the memories and wisdom are valuable is enough of a challenge, and for the most part the value of their assets is rooted in the local community they are part of.

Now maybe there are many people who are only too keen to offer their services and go far afield to help others. The Community Volunteer Service scheme suggests there is. But this model does not work for everyone. There are few keenly committed people who don't already feel that they are overstretched. The church is so short of people generally these days that there's hardly an occasion when anyone competes with others to do a job or run for office in church.

After lunch, I look Communion first to Hilda, and then to Margaret, who has just moved in to a convalescent home for a few weeks to support her when her plaster comes off and she has to do the phyisiotherapy. Just after I arrived Pauline and Norma from church turned up, and joined in prayer with us. Afterwards, all the talk was of organising a 90th birthday celebration next week for Margaret, who had planned a lunch for all her many friends before she fell and broke some bones in her foot on Christmas Eve. It was good to see her in good form, enthusiastic about life as ever. You'd think she was twenty years younger than she really is. A great inspiration to us all.

After Evensong, a chance finally to catch up with 'Slumdog Millionaire' on Channel Four, a real masterpiece of a film, rich with social comment and observation about poverty, modernity and India.

Case for restraint?

2010-01-23T21:28:00.002Z

This afternoon a church outing for kids of all ages, to the pantomime - Robin Hood in the New Theatre, starring Torchwood's John Barrowman. Our party filled the whole of the front row of the 'gods', and were aged from five to ninety, one of the really speciall occasions in our annual calendar of events.

We we treated to a spectacular of superb song and dance routines, ice skating on stage and several illusionist's tricks, as well as the usual romps and silliness associated with this kind of stage craft. The only disappointment was the invasion of a certain degree of far from innocent adult humour, accompanied by the uncomfortable sense that many youngish children in the audience were all too aware of the kind of sexual innuendo emanating from the stage.

There are some serious issues implied here, about the robbery of innocence from childhood, one of Archbishop Rowan's favourite themes of discourse. We don't need a return to Victorian prudery, but we do need some sense of reticence and restraint when it comes to talking publicly about all kinds of intimacy and affection. Just because it can be shown or spoken about is not an adequate reason for insisting that it must be shown or spoken about.

Quite a missionary sort of day

2010-01-22T23:38:00.000Z

Before today's lunchtime Eucharist I had a meeting with James Karran of Solace Pub Church and Trystan Hughes, University Anglican Chaplain, to start planning a second Good Friday evening outreach programme from St John's. Last year's event was a creative experiment which saw a team of young adults engaging with evening passers by, en route to pubs and clubs, inviting them to step into the church to partake of a multimedia exposition of the meaning of the Cross of Christ. The fact that it happened at all is remarkable, and that it drew in curious people, and provided a platform for dialogue with a few who might never have noticed it was Good Friday, or had any idea about its meaning.

This is what I regard us front line evangelism. It's hard work, and consumes time, energy and resources. There's no point asking if it's worth it in term of numbers through the door, conversions, or any other kind of result beloved of accountants. The very fact that a group of people are fired up to make the effort to communicate what gives meaning to their lives in an indifferent environment, is of immeasurable value. Those with a mission learn by doing, through the many exchanges involved in both the planning and execution of such an event. In the process, many different lives are touched.

This is equally applicable to those of us who devote a large part of our lives to maintaining and protecting a large ancient sacred space in the middle of a modern city. We do what's needed to make it possible for others who don't look at life from our perspective to be exposed to divine graciousness - whether through the beauty and silence of holiness, or through the telling and re-telling of God's story in Jesus. Evangelism has many dimensions. Those with a passion for it can recognise each other and find a way to work together - although not without difficulties if culture differences are large. Although Pub Church and the University Chaplaincy are as different from each other as they are from St John's, all three are set within the heart of the city. All have a desire to reach out to those who are in the city, no matter for how long or short their stay.

After the lunchtime Eucharist, I drove up to Aberfan in Merthyr Vale, to visit the Megabyes Internet Café, the home of the Aberfan and Merthyr Vale Youth and Community Project. I'd been invited there to accompany one of the Novascarman 'tech guys', the Digital Inclusion team that works on bringing information technology to socially deprived areas. At street level, the café serves food. Down in the basement, the café has a network of ten computers, freely available to any person in the locality to needs to use a computer or help with using a computer to develop their skills or enhance their employability. I'm starting to learn about this uniquely contemporary side to community development because I'm interested in social uses of technology, and hope to support the project as a volunteer when I retire. I really enjoyed meeting the people involved, and being an apprentice to someone nearly half my age, for a change.

The evening was taken up with our annual Christian Unity Week supper and act of worship at City United Reformed Church. Eighty people took part this year, and everyone was pleased to be there and hear Major Peter Moran give us a stimulating and funny after dinner talk about the origin of his organisation, the Salvation Army. Looking back on a busy day, it seems that mission and outreach characterised everything I was involved with. A refreshing change.

Echoes of yester-year

2010-01-21T21:58:00.003Z

This evening, I had a rare invitation to preach outside the Parish at a Christian Unity Week service for the Lower Rhondda Council of Churches at St Paul's Porth. I drove up there in driving rain and darkness, not quite certain that I knew exactly where the church was. Last time I preached there was about 25 years ago on a Parish visit as USPG area secretary, so I had a vague memory that the church was up on the hillside to the right above the town centre. I was delighted that from this recollection I was able to find the place without stopping. The fact that the church windows were brightly lit standing out in the darkness helped, naturally.

About two dozen faithful and five of us clerics turned out on this horrible night. I was impressed by their commitment. Afterwards, two people separately told me that they recalled my last visit to the Parish, and still recognised me, despite my white hair. One lady also told me that she was a visitor to St John's tea room whenever she was in town. That was pleasing. It was good to have a reminder of my past life as an itinerant preacher. I guess it's something I may do more of once I'm settled in retirement.

Roll renewal time

2010-01-20T19:55:00.002Z

I stood in for Fr Roy for the 'class Mass' at St German's this morning. The thirty children and teachers trekked bravely to church through sleet, and were so well behaved in chilly conditions. I had fun reading the story of David and Goliath, with the children doing 'giant' sound effects. Sophie, their teacher played piano so we did some singing as well. A real pleasure. Despite the weather St John's had a decent number for the midday Eucharist also.

Afterwards, I paid a visit to the city centre management office to find out if anything of interest happened while I was on leave. It looks as if work on renewing the churchyard path up to the south porch can now happen fairly soon. Matt, the city's project engineer is on the case, and organising the contractors for us.

In the mail today, a reminder from the diocese that this year the church electoral roll has to be renewed from scratch, as opposed to updated. It's one of those occasionally necessary high maintenance jobs, requiring a fair amount of chasing and checking. This is a task I'll have to oversee, as I probably have the broadest grasp of who's who, new and old, on the existing roll. Some people who've been on the roll many times over the years, may well think membership is automatic, or even believe they've already filled in a form especially if they've subscribed recently. It shows positively that a sense of belonging doesn't depend on filling in pieces of paper - a practice the modern world is particularly fond of.

The membership situation at St John's is made more complex by the considerable number of people who worship with us but belong to and support a home parish elsewhere, or who happily attend on Sundays, but don't want to be involved in any other aspect of church life. Yet, if asked, they would say they belong to St John's. Participation comes in all shapes and sizes, and this has to be recognised and respected.

With this electoral roll renewal, members are also asked to fill in a 'skills audit' form. The idea is to obtain a comprehensive picture of the gifts and abilities church members have, and which they might be encouraged to share, both in their own communities and further afield. It's a reasonable and well intended stewardship initiative. I hope it will be perceived in the spirit in which it was intended.

West entrance plans under scrutiny

2010-01-19T22:52:00.004Z

This lunchtime the Diocean Advisory committee came en masse and held a site meeting with us to discuss our overall plans for the west end of the church, and possibly the George Pace designed Vestry block. We were joined by Mr Wright, an architect representing the 20th Century Society - a specialist group with a conservation interest in architecture and furnishings of the period, and one of the constitutionally determined consultation partners with a right to comment on changes proposed to church fabric.

If there's an objection to what we propose to do, the Chancellor of the diocese calls a Consistory Court to receive full representations from interested parties in order to inform him on his ruling. Inevitably such events are costly in terms of both time and energy, so any possibility to sort things out before the process reaches this outcome is to be embraced. This meeting was needed because of our desire to relocate the west end internal porch designed by renowned architect George Pace back in the 1970s. It has become something of a safety hazard with the increased volume of one-off visitors to the church we now receive. We live in dread of any more serious accidental falls in the area of the porch and adjoining step. We've done our best without removing the porch but this has not resolved the problem.

Common sense dictates that removal and re-arranging the entrance area to make access that much safer is necessary. Church rules and regulations demand a lengthy process with uncertain outcome. Rules are so sacred that the only conceivable solution in the enforcers' mind is not to use the porch (our principal entrance), while the procedure is followed, if we are concerned, no matter how long it takes. Our dear church members are so much more patient and persistent than I shall ever be with all this. I shall be glad to dissociate myself from this 'religious' world view, whose fear of administrative 'disorder' and people taking their own initiatives makes the burden of managing these prize assets an even more difficult and unpalatable a task for volunteers.

A dozen of us were present for the meeting. We went carefully over all the issues touching upon the need for remedial action, and our plans to open up the west end and improve meeting facilities in church by extending the vestry block with a new floor in the roof void. We went over in summary form all the various discussions of the pros and cons of alternative measures contemplated over the past three years. Everyone behaved themselves well, despite the sense of resentment the home team feels at having its own sense of responsibility curbed by interested parties who in the end give advice but no practical help or funding.

I think our potential objector appreciated the problem we face having seen it in context, and he was open to the idea of the porch being relocated as part of a proposed extension of the vestry block. All this still needs to be rendered in proper documentary form to assist the process. Let's hope that what we produce will make as much sense as we feel it should, after living with this unresolved problem for so long.

After the meeting, I hopped on a bus to go to the Heath hospital for a couple of visits. Traffic was busy and very slow in both directions going there. A passenger who got on the bus talked about a 'jumper' on the Gabalfa roundabout flyover. It took a moment for the penny to drop. When I crossed the road bridge over Western Avenue near the hospital entrance, I could see the tail-back on the carriageway below and a police car diverting traffic on to the roundabout.

From the upper stories of A block, overlooking the road, I could just see a few policemen standing atop the flyover, and the figure of someone else sillhouetted against the guard rail - a drama that had been unfolding for several hours, it appeared. Staff members kept popping out from the wards into the stairwell as I ascended, to take a peek at the distant scene. I can only presume that the news had gone out on local radio. Traffic was still bad when I left, so bad that I walked all the way home, rather than face an equal amount of time sitting in a bus that would only take me half way there.

After cooking a seafood paella for supper, I spent several hours drafting a summary statement in support of the Faculty petition already made, explaining the circumstances and needs surrounding our proposal. I hope this will go some way towards making progress to a satisfactory conclusion.

A decent proposition

2010-01-17T22:41:00.002Z

After recent poor weather, numbers at church are beginning to pick up again. At the Friends Committee meeting after Evensong, we decided that we would press on with the font enhancement project. Although the DAC seems to want a grand plan for all the works needing to be done at the west end of the church, the work on the font cover, in our view stands independently of the rest. As we have a site meeting on Tuesday, it's possible questinos abut this could be resolved. Then we'd be free to apply for a Faculty.

I was also sounded out abut how I'd feel about the possibility of a Parish farewell do that would entail a fairly localised pilgrimage outing culminating in a nice sit down dinner together with all the regular member, who normally turn out for such an event. It's like someone read my mind. I can think of nothing I'd appreciate more. It's one of those things we do well together, guaranteeing a fond memory to set out with on my retirement journey.

Looking back from a new decade

2010-01-16T13:08:00.002Z

We've very pleased with the new bed, which certainly gave me an improved night's sleep. Clare spent the morning trying to figure out how to put a flat pack wardrobe together, while I figured out what to preach tomorrow - my first sermon of the new decade. Clare, ever a great planner with good attention to detail spotted that there were anomalies in the layout of the pre-drilled holes, sufficient to suggest that a component of a similar wardrobe with a different internal layout had been packed in error. She emailed the company with corroborative photos. We'll see how long it takes to obtain a response and a correction.

What to preach tomorrow? A great Gospel - water into wine. I looked through my computer files to check when I'd last preached on this at St John's, and it seems that I hadn't. The only time since returning to Britain was in St James' in 2004. Where was I in 2007 on Epiphany 2? Still away in Switzerland on winter leave. I didn't need to hunt for an old diary. It was all there in the archive of this blog. How useful.

Browsing through old entries jogged my memory with the realisation that it's now three years since St John's City Parish in its present form was born by episcopal decree. Three years. That was already six months after demolition of city centre buildings was complete, when site clearance and excavation created the great red hole out of which the reconstruction sprang. I can go back and look at all the photos as well, and remind myself of the remarkable times in which I have been privileged to conduct my last commission in public ministry. Not so much water into wine as new wineskins for new wine - a public domain for meeting and trading fit for doing business in the second decade of the twenty-first century.

Back to work

2010-01-15T23:41:00.000Z

The alarm rang before seven this morning to get us up early to receive a delivery of furniture flat packs for assembly and testing in preparation for our retirement move in three months from now. The consignment arrived just after nine, with a courtesy call just beforehand from the driver, so we could have stayed in bed, but never mind. By eleven, we had a new bed frame assembled, to fit the mattress we bought several months ago. The old bed had lost its capacity to allow me a good night's sleep, and with old shoulder injuries playing up, I've had more than my share of insomnia this past year or so. I look forward to testing it.

The city centre and St John's were quiet this morning, shopping activity still subdued by wintry weather conditions. There was half the usual audience for the lunchtime organ concert, although there were ten of us for the usual noon Eucharist beforehand. Because of my leave arrangments, Archdeacon David Lee had offered to come and celebrate, so I had the pleasure of sitting quietly in the congregation instead of leading the service. The tea room was not as busy as usual, but I still took a turn at washing up for a couple of hours before heading home for some desk-work.

At last, the Faculty to renew the south side churchyard path has arrived, along with news in an email that a source of riven Pennant flagstones has been identified at a decent price. It's taken a year, but there is now the real possibility of the job being done before the Mayoral service on St David's Day. One of the last pieces of pavement in the city centre to be renewed. As the Mayoral service aims to be one of thanksgiving for the achievements of last year's completion of the city centre regeneration projects, this is encouraging news for me.

The evening was taken up with constructing a draft order of service for discussion at a meeting with County Protocol people on Monday, and preparing the God on Monday weekly services for the next month. And finally, pretty tired, I'm off to test the new bed.

Homecoming

2010-01-14T21:36:00.003Z

Last night I discovered that I'd not booked myself on the earliest flight to back to Bristol, which was just as well given the weather conditions. What it meant in practice was the avoidance of a really tiring early start, and a leisurely departure. I caught a park and ride bus to the airport from the other side of Vernier/Meyrin railway station. It took ten minutes, and I was 25 minutes early for check-in. The automatic check-in terminals were already open for my flight, and within a few minutes of arrival my suitcase was on its way, and I was queuing to get through security checks with about sixty people in front of me in the usual long snaking queue. Twenty minutes later I was strolling unhurriedly through the huge new duty free shopping area, and making my way to the all new departure lounge. A lot of expansion has taken place in this airport since my last visit eighteen months ago.

The flight was only fifteen minutes late taking off, and ten minutes late, touching down in fog at Bristol. My bag came out quickly and I was soon on a bus for Temple Meads, with only a fifteen minute wait for a train to Cardiff - all very relaxed and easy. Only after arrival at Cardiff Central did things become less smooth. There was no readily accessible information about the departure points of buses that could take me up North Road close to home - Birchgrove or Whitchurch buses - there are several. With a little time in hand, I jumped on the new FreeB shuttle around the city centre instead of walking, or going on a bus stop hunt. With a dozen sets of traffic lights to negotiate and a cigarette break for the driver added in, it took 20 minutes to get from Central Station to Greyfriars, the drop off point which would give me the shortest walk home.

The distance from the station to Greyfriars I could have walked in ten minutes, but I'd decided not to, as the ground was slushy and I didn't want to carry my suitcase rather than drag it and get it mucky. Others may have learned the same lesson. I was one of two passengers on the bus. The other man thought he was on a park and ride bus out to Cardiff City football stadium. The livery of the P+R buses, and their size is significantly different, so he may have been plain stupid or unobservant. Having said that, I noticed a P+R bus with all Welsh language descriptions down the side of the bus nearest the pavement - not bi-lingual, all Welsh. There's a lot to be learned around here about communication, no matter how many languages are used.

How jealous I was of the real time journey panel displays on Geneva trains buses and trams, resembling a simplified sat-nav route display, all integrated across the network, along with fare structures. It takes the nightmare out of travel, and in a place where six languages (French German, Italian, English, Spanish, Arabic and Russian) are used by both travellers and residents, information is clearly displayed in ways that don't make different languages much of a problem. Cardiff could be just good, but unfortunately what you pay determines what you get.

After a brief cup of tea at home, I had to walk over to Tredegarville school for a meeting between the Governors and the OFSTED lead inspector. A school Inspection is due, starting on St David's Day. The procedure was very carefully explained to us, and were were asked a few preliminary questions about our perceptions of the nature of the school. If only local government offers and their procedures were exposed to the same disciplined and detailed independent scrutiny as are pedagogues, perhaps it wouldn't be quite such an onerous task to deliver useful and relevant information to the public as it seems to be. In this day and age 'good in parts, with room for improvement' is not enough.

Tragedy strikes near and far away

2010-01-13T23:43:00.002Z

During the day, more news has come in about the earthquake in Haiti. It has apparently destroyed the UN headquarters, the Anglican Cathedral and buildings housing its vital social outreach programme. Claudine learned that the daughter of an Anglican episcopalian couple working in Geneva, herself also an international civil servant working for the UN in Haiti, had been killed in her work place. Claudine had spent a weekend with her last year during a visit there.

This tragedy will hit many more people here locally in the international organisations, losing colleagues, friends, family members. In this place of great wealth and accomplishment, there is suddenly deep shock and, for the moment, powerlessness. There are well tried and tested emergency response procedures in place on the part of many UN organisations. There may even be lines of communication to the heart of the situation, but few if any left alive to make the process effective. "Who can be ready for such a disaster?" as one interviewee just said on the radio.

It snowed for much of the morning, but the temperature rose slightly and so the snow settling started to turn slushy. At lunchtime I ventured out, taking the 16 tram on the Meyrin - Cornavin line down to Balexert shopping centre, which has gone through a phase of expansion, and now boasts a striking restaurant straddling the main highway. The tram stops below it, and an escalator takes people up to dining and shopping level. After lunch with Claudine in a Turkish restaurant for a change, I set out to look for the few items on Clare's shopping list, realised I'd forgotten my phone with necessary details recorded on it, and so had to go back home to fetch it first. I then re-took the tram to Cornavin and shopped in the town centre instead. This didn't take long, so I went down to the Quai Wilson and loitered at the lakeside, camera in hand, snapping a cloudy sky beautified by the setting sun. It was a contemplative hour, recalling people, many of them now dead and gone, that I'd known and ministered to here, ten years previously.

This evening Keith, Claudine and I were invited to supper with Alec and Ann-Marie nearby in Meyrin. Their daughter Dagmar and her husband Guy, at whose marriage I had officiated a dozen years ago were also there. It was a happy occasion, telling stories, eating raclette, a fitting conclusion to my stay in Switzerland. With the minor changes in temperature and weather conditions, I should fly out on time tomorrow midday, back home and straight into a school governors' meeting.

Treasures at the Gianadda

2010-01-12T10:35:00.001Z

I left Meyrin on the 08h16 commuter train to connect with the inter city train at Cornavin, to arrive at Lausanne for my 09h15 rendezvous with my old friend pastor Valdo Richard. The train was one of those double decker affairs with a splendid view from upstairs. It filled the whole length of the station platform, the best part of 400 yards. Hundreds of people got on, and there were already many more passengers who'd got on at the airport. Swiss trains are well used. This one was going to the far east of the country - Zurich and then beyond to St Gall. What surprised me was just how many trains, both local and inter-regional, were operating, despite a night with snowfall.

Since a third rail track between Geneva and Lausanne has come into service the journey time non stop to Lausanne has come down to thirty five minutes, as well as services being more frequent and of greater capacity. Swiss railways have had their economic problems like any other. Marginal services have been cut, but the demand for main line services crossing the country has increased, with economic development and further integration into the European Community. Although not without its problems, Switzerland truly is a place which continues to benefit from the globalisation of commerce.

Valdo and I breakfasted on hot chocolate and and croissants before taking a train to Martigny, along the shore of Lac Léman through early morning mist and low cloud. By the time we reached Vevey, the end of the low cloud was in sight ahead of us across the water, and sunlight was beginning to transfigure the panorama from the train, like a Turner painting. Such joy! By the time we reached Aigle, the skies were blue and the surrounding mountains on all sides were pristine with a fresh layer of snow. Martigny lies in a deep steep sided valley, and in winter, the sun doesn't appear above the crags until late morning, so it can be very cold, as low as -5C most of the day. A shuttle bus delivered us to the vicinity of the Gianadda art gallery, our destination for the day. Clare and I often came here when we lived in Geneva. It was Valdo's first visit.

We'd come to an exhibition of Russian ikons from the Tretchiakoff collection, examples of fourteenth to seventeen century painting, featuring a couple of huge images of John Chrysostom and Gregory the Theologian, two of the Nicene Fathers by Andrej Rublev, and a crucifixion by Master Denis. My favourite icons in the collection are one of the Holy Face, reproducing the much older image 'not made with hands' (i.e. miraculously) the painted in the late 14th century, and a Trinity of earlier date, though not Rublev's famous one, but a rather simplified one with exquisitely subtle colouring. These, for me were images worthy of long contemplation.

We lunched in the St Bernard (dog) museum, and then went for a brisk walk up to Martigny's old town area. The mediaeval church in the central area is now re-deployed as a mortuary chapel, with three biers for coffins in separate viewing areas. All other liturgical furnishings had been removed, so it was only used for vigils. The door was open, and the place unattended. A notice advertised the presence within of an old lady recently deceased, and indeed, there she was uncovered and lying in state on public view. I've seen this arrangement in a village with a small ancient and a larger newer church the other side of the Alps from here, in Macugnaga. I guess it's local custom. It says a great deal about social stability and the low level of crime and disorder enjoyed in this community that it's possible to leave a corpse on display in an unattended public building, although I am of course forgetting all about CCTV cameras.

After our walk we re-visited the icons for another hour, then made our way back to the station, and left on a train that took me straight back to Geneva, bidding Valdo farewell in Lausanne en route. The return trip down the Rhone valley in evening sunlight was exquisite. By the time we reached Lausanne we'd re-entered the low cloud zone, and it was dark by journey's end.

After a quick shave, Keith Dale drove me through snowy streets across into France - for a supper date with Michael and Barbara Bell in Prévessin - Möens, border crossings no longer manned by douaniers, since Switzerland embraced the Schengen Agreement (open borders within the EC). Claudine tells me that the result of this is a nightmare for people visiting from outside the EC, as all visa applications now have to be done via Paris, rather than Berne, with a six week delay commonplace. I was given a lift home at one in the morning with snow falling fast and the roads empty and silent, not a soul around in this normally busy city.

Catch up time

2010-01-11T19:55:00.005Z

After a good night's sleep and a lazy day, a train ride along the lake to Nyon. Here Philippe picked me up to take me to Vésenex just over the border in France voisine, for a weekend catching up with him and his wife Julia. She's voluntary priest and founding member of the Anglican community of La Cote, along the north side of Lac Léman, both sides of the border Franco - Swiss border.

The suburban rural landscape in which their eighteenth century former farmhouse is located is covered in snow, still and quiet. Just right for a time of quiet conversation and reflection on the journey since I was last with them at Julia's priesting eighteen months ago. She's on leave at the moment, so on Sunday afternoon we celebrated the Eucharist together with another old friend, John Paul in the place we'd talked until late, two days running.

Then Jean Paul took me home with him, up to the Jura village of St George, 600 metres higher than the lake, altogether a 1000 metres above sea level, to spend an evening catching up and stay a night in their family home, a traditionally shaped wooden Swiss chalet perched up above the village looking south, over the lake towards the alpine region which is home to the famous Portes du Soleil ski domain, where I first learned ski alpin fifteen years ago.

J-P, whose wife Sally was away, expertly prepared a fondue, to a local farmer's recipe. We talked, ate and drank until late. It was dark when we arrived, and misty when we left in the morning, so the inherent beauty of this place was concealed. I've stayed up there with J-P and Sally on several occasions over the years. It's both peaceful and inspiring. Not only the place, but also the people, as is also true of Julia and Philippe. We worked closely together in the early years of preparing the ground for the recent development of the La Cote pastorate. This is, in all honesty, the only exercise in 'church planting' I've ever been involved with. And it all grew out of lay initiative, with no more than a little support and encouragement from me.

The pastorate is now self supporting, and as its first phase of development and consolidation comes to an end, it can be regarded as a fully fledged chaplaincy with its own ministry and mission. I'm not sure of what's involved in any official change of status, and don't think I care much, as long as this enterprise in the Anglican spirit of pastoral care and service continues to flourish purposefully, and be valued as part of the anglophone life of this region, crossing as it does the boundaries of many nationalities. Those involved look to a future that continues to respond to the needs of the hosts of newcomers seeking a welcome and a means to feel at home from home - expatriates from many countries, plus second and third generations of English speaking settlers.

J-P dropped me off at Gland train station for a ride back to Keith and Claudine's at Meyrin. The rest of the day was taken up by lunch with Laura, former church secretary, and tea with Gill, the widow of my much loved former church warden and friend Mike. It doesn't seem like nearly ten years since he died, and nine this month since we left Switzerland. Such a lot has happened since then. Geneva has changed, there are many new buildings. The already good public transport as got even better with the construction of more new tram lines. There are so many trams, buses and trains in every direction, and all are so well used, it's hard not to be jealous in comparing it with Cardiff public transport, which is modernising itself with such laborious effort and little tangible effect.

Winterreise

2010-01-07T21:22:00.000Z

With the arrival of snow greeting my first day of leave, I wondered if I'd hav any luck with my booked flight to Geneva. The Easyjet website told me the earlier flight was cancelled, but mine was still listed, and the news said the Bristol Airport was still open, so with some misgivings I set out on foot, lugging my case, unable to wheel it through the snow. Trains were running to time, but when I got to Bristol, the suttle bus on which I had a ticket booked was cancelled, so I had to pay out ten quid to share a taxi with two others to get to the airport. By the time with arrived in complete saftey, without incident, despite the weather, the airport was expected to re-open for afternoon flights. However, during my transit time, Easyjet had decided to cancel all flights.

So, I re-booked on the first flight available, Thursday morning, and wondered about how I might get back into Bristol to stay the night with Amanda and James, since there were no buses and the taxis were so expensive. Then I realised that a check-in for an 08h55 flight, if the airport was open, would be at 05h00, given that you're now expected to allow four hours to check in and go through the stricter security precautions (not actually in place yet).

I texted Clare to ask her to check internet weather prognostications for tomorrow, while I enquired about hotel bookings. I was taken aback to learn that a room would cost me £140 overnight, meals extra. At this stage I was uncertain I would be re-imbursed by Easyjet because I had not had time to read through let alone understand the two page advisory note handed to me when I made the flight booking change. The check in clerk, under pressure, did not draw this to my attention.

Many other passengers lived near enough to home and had cars at the airport to slide home in. Others coming from a distance evidently knew the score better than I. I heard from Clare that tomorrow would be fine, but the night very cold, I realised that crossing Bristol to spend half a night, then returning with no certainty of any transport back to the airport early enough for the flight was out of the question. I realised I'd have to stay where, but by that time there were no hotel rooms left close enough to guarantee return in such icy conditions for the flight. So I just had to stay there, in the somewhat chilly entrance hall, and punctuate the wait with snacks and hot drinks.

Ryanair flights, and some domestic services returned during the course of the day, but in the quiet times and through the night, there were perhaps fifty travellers who, like me, had been caught out by the jerky early flow of information, not been able to make alternative plans, and missed out on the possibility of re-imbursable accommodation. There could have been a thousand people stranded there, not fifty, had the public information not been quite so good as it was. However -

If I'd been able to check for updates easily at Cardiff Central station I could have saved myself the bother, gone home and rebooked on-line.

Or, if the train ticket office had been informed of the cancellation of the shuttle bus, it would have flagged up the growing problem, and not issued me a through ticket which I could not then make use of. But then, lack of integration of all the so-called public service transport companies at the most basic level of telecoms infrastructure means that lack of consistent up to date travel information is a common problem. So much so, that it's left to private web entrepreneurs to devise information services that work.

Or, if I had invested / squandered / spent money on a smart phone or a netbook, I would have been able to find out all I needed as I travelled and turn back at any stage. But, over the past seven years my life as been largely confined to the square mile of the city centre. I could by no stretch of the imagination consider myself to be a 'man on the move' to justify such a purchase. In fact, I realised how out of practice at the art of travelling I have become. I hope that will change when I retire. Not that it's any justification for more technology cluttering up my life. Time for simplification. And actually an empty day with nothing to do but wait - 20 hours in all - was not such a bad experience after all.

I watched people, I read, I prayed without burrowing in the case for my Book of Offices, and in that busy place found some stillness of a sort. I witnessed an elderly couple first bicker, then quarrel and almost come to blows. They were en route to their retirement home in Portugal. The break in the familiar routine of travel was more than he could cope with. He kept insisting on trying to check in the cases, needing to be retold that the flight had been cancelled and that they had to wait - stress, tiredness plus short term memory loss, far from undermining him, made him belligerent, and the police were called when they nearly came to blows. She had not seen him react like this before, so smooth their few travel outings had been before.

It was disturbing to discover there was no first aid post or rest room available this side of the airport, no paramedic available, no first aid signpost. Normally in an emergency an ambulance could come at short notice, but on icy roads? Exceptional conditions on a night like this maybe, but to my mind something wasn't right about this situation. The airport was adequately heated, but the automatic doors stayed open for far too long - courtesy of the excursions of smokers, unaware of what loitering just outside the open doors with warm air blowing out, was doing on the inside to keep dozens shivering when they could have been warm.

Night passed, day came, flights resumed and ours set off on time and arrived minutes ahead of schedule. Geneva's weather was much the same as Bristol's but with everything running normally, as it ever does. Good to be here again, and see real snow clad mountains.

Anticipating Epiphany

2010-01-04T17:28:00.003Z

Thanks to my good friend David Lee, I was able to take this Sunday off. Clare and I went and sat together at the Parish Eucharist in the Cathedral, celebrating Epiphany Sunday, anticipating Twelfth Night on Wednesday. The city too is anticipating the end of the festive season, with Winter Wonderland and Santa's Grotto closed to the public and dismantling today. Many homes will already be taking down their trees and decorative lights. The schools re-open today as well, on the tenth day of Christmas. It's rather sad that we don't make the most of the twelve days of festivity between Christmas and Epiphany, as still happens in parts of Eastern and Southern Europe.

I had an email and some photos from Kath holidaying at Sta Pola in Spain. The Magi arrived there yesterday. She sent a photograph of kids queuing up to tell the Magi what gifts they wanted. I'd not heard of this before, but it has to be better than Santa - three for the price of one?! Being Spain, I expect public festive activities around the Epiphany will go on for several days. This is a wholesome habit which unfortunately we've lost up here in Britain.

Spiritual Capital - Cardiff blog reviving

2010-01-02T16:29:00.005Z

Now that my journalling of the past four years of city centre redevelopment has come to its natural conclusion, I've had time to start work on reviving another blog, which I started as part of the Spiritual Capital research project. Its purpose was to gather articles of interest from the media and other publication sources concerning relationships between communities of faith and civil society. There isn't an absence of this kind of material, but faced with competition from so many attention grabbing crises, news of this kind can quickly slip out of focus, even though it might be important to those interested in learning what the voice of faith contributes to the debates of today's world.

What re-awakened my desire to re-activate this little enterprise was an email conversation with my dear friend Roy Thomas about the difficulties of engaging faith community members as organ donors. He is Executive Chairman of Kidney Wales and a vigorous advocate of social policy changes that will help shorten the lengthy queue of sufferers awaiting kidney transplants. He is troubled by what he sees as the failure of the church to give a strong enough lead on this issue.

Faith communities around the world, for the most part, take a positive encouraging view of organ transplantation and donation, as evidenced by the Organ Transplants website. Faith communities and their leaders often have valuable things to say on matters of public interest. They don't always get disseminated because few in editorial control of news are interested in something they don't believe the general public are concerned about. Many faith organisations and leaders are now obliged to have their own press officers to present if not actually promote their views, competing with others to ensure they get a public hearing. Reporters used to go out and solicit news and comment from religious heirarchs, but those days are long past.

Decline in the social role of religious authority is linked to decline in interest in formal institutional religion, not least among the media classes who until recently have controlled means of public communication. The emergence of blogging and 'citizen journalism' has changed this. It has made it possible for ordinary people with specific interests to gather news, opinion and information and offer it as a public service through a website - this can be on religion, sport, music, technology, trade or politics, as well as ranging interests of a more dubious kind.

I'm hoping in retirement to find time to scan the news and gather items of interest on religion and civil society for easy referral at the Spiritual Capital Cardiff blog site. Maybe this will help make more visible what faith communities locally have to contribute to wider society, and be of service to others willing to consider letting faith leaders give a fresh insight and a moral lead in the wider world.

Welcome the new decade

2010-01-01T14:20:00.012Z

There were half a dozen of us for the midday Eucharist yesterday. I picked a shopping bag full of litter up from the church entrance afterwards, then visited the City Centre Managment office to wish the team a happy new year, before returning home and settling in for a quiet evening with friends. Rachel phoned from Canada, Katherine texted us from Sta Pola in Spain, and Owain from Prague. Our guests departed at eleven, so Clare and I stood alone on the doorstep in the chill night air under the rare 'blue moon' to watch the festive fireworks in Coopers Field and at the 'Calennig' funfair at midnight.

Clare and I took a wardrobe apart this morning, so that she can re-furbish ready for the move to come. She enjoys DIY. It's a habit I'll have to acquire once more when I retire and run out of work related excuses. There were just two of us for the Eucharist to welcome in the new year this lunctime. Shoppers were just begininng to flow in to the centre. The streets were still untidy from the previous night's revelling - understandably as even street cleaners deserve time off at festive times. It could have been worse. This past few months things have been so much better. Our new shopping centre seems to be encouraging decent behaviour from passing consumers.

On my way home, I met Graham, one of a small number of Cardiff's Street Carers who has a personal ministry to homeless people on the streets, and can be found out there several times a week, with a suitcase full of really useful things that come in handy for people in need who have little or nothing. He's such a thoughtful man. He told me how he'd been out one evening recently, taking with a group of homeless people when he had been upbraided by a security official belonging to a large store in the neighbourhood, blaming the seasonal shoplifting epidemic on homeless people. Such a ridiculous piece of scapegoating. Graham decided that a kind answer would turn away wrath, and visited the store next day, smartly dressed (instead of wearing his usual outfit for street care work), bearing a card and a gift wrapped Gideons New Testament.

Next time he saw the man in question, he was profuse in apology. I couldn't help thinking that most street people wouldn't have the confidence to penetrate deep into shopping aisles packed with covet-wear tycoon threads or girlie party frocks - to steal what? And security guards tend to weed out the usual suspects with behaviour or body odour problems close to the door. Smart thieves don't usually show up on the radar of suspicion. Their demeanour is not that of a poor victim struggling to survive in a cold and sometimes vicious world on the margins of society, where anyone and everyone can pick on them, with or without justification.

Woe unto us with so many possessions to guard.

Looking to the future

2009-12-30T23:55:00.001Z

All the paperwork relating to the demise of our beloved old VW Golf arrived today, plus a cheque for £265. The procedure required careful reading, a little form filling, and a trip up to the local office of the DVLC in Llanishen to fill in a form to reclaim the unused car tax, after the lunchtime Eucharist, attended by a handful of the faithful, as usual.

The city centre continues to welcome a large volume of bargain hunting shoppers. Clare and I ventured out after an early supper to take advantage of the later opening hours, and have a good look around - not that this resulted in any impulse purchases. Our minds are set on furnishing sales to equip our retirement house with a suitably downsized bed, wardrobes etc. Much of the furniture will have to go, simply because it will not fit in to our modest terraced house. This is one of the un-mentioned penalties of living in grand tied cottages for forty years of family life. Nevertheless it's not yet a matter of squeezing the most cherished possessions into a couple of tiny rooms in sheltered accommodation. We're grateful to have a home of our own to move into on our own terms.

The evening I watched the last of the Matrix trilogy of sci-fi movies on TV, having endured films one and two on Monday and Tuesday. Being sci-fi, all three were a tour de force of special effects and computer generated imagery, as it has evolved over the past decade, depicting an epic struggle in a future when digital technologies which have taken over the world, exploiting humans as fodder to keep 'The Matrix' alive. The remnant of real human beings do battle to reclaim the world, let by a messianic figure, who gives his life to free mankind (for real) in the final scenes of the third episode.

The dialogue was stilted, the acting uninspiring, the whole thing ponderous Fight sequences were far too long and too many, and all based in 'virtual reality' i.e. they looked like endless repeats of either an arcade kung fu or adventure game on a kid's game machine, very stylised generally dull, just occasionally amusing. Much of the the dialogue was, kinda philosophical, resembing stuff that used to be found in text based adventure games. There was a good deal of cinematic homage in the use of shots or visual cliches. All very clever, highly popular, but just overweight, pretentious. Three episodes of two and three quarter hours each, with at least ten minutes of adverts per hour made it a test of endurance. But since all the kids have seen it and said 'Dad you ought to watch it' in times past, I thought I should make the effort. It's fortunate I had leisure time to waste during these chilly evenings.

I understand the Matrix has been subject of some theological reflection. It raises questions about the nature of reality understood from a reductionist and atomistic point of view. It extemporises in 'science fantasy' mode around the theme of human dependency upon technology to uphold the lifestyles we covet. It places a high value on truth, courage and the capacity of love to sustain hope and work miracles of transformation. However, the self sacrificing hero achieves the redemption of the world by meeting violence with violence. This is as far as possible from the Crucified God, whose 'powerless power overcomes powerful power' (the power of those who have it, cling to it), and use it to do violence to retain it) as my wise mentor Bishop David Jenkins used to say.

So, in every sense, it was an innovative attempt to speculate about redemption, reaching a conclusion as boring and predictable as much of the film's action scenes, but it offered only the insight that humanity is as lost as it ever was or ever can be without a Gospel whose entire action is to dispense with the need for violence at all. For me there's nothing new in that. Convincing others is the real battle for survival.

Christmas Sunday

2009-12-27T18:21:00.003Z

There were just a couple of dozen of us in church for the Sung Eucharist, the only service today. Many regulars are still away. We had two visitors staying at the Marriott, who complained of the poor and misleading information they were given about Christmas services, on arrival Christmas Eve, with the church being descibed as a baptist church (as ever). I said that I had taken information personally to all fourteen hotels around the centre. Our vistors, from another town centre church, understood that getting infomration used properly was always a bit of a lottery. They attributed the problem to the fact that most of the hotal staff were foreign with little or no local experience or information, and even less proper training in delivering such occasional services to guests.

At a guess, half the congregation at Midnight Mass were staying in hotels, that's fifty people out of a possible several thousand occupants. I imagine St David's Cathedral might have done a lot better with hotel visitors, with or without supporting information. I really should have put some real effort into getting publicity on to the information systems of the hotels. All the staff at the welcome desks have to use computers, so little or no training is required, other than a reminder that the information is there.

Kath, Anto and Rhiannon left for home after lunch. Tomorrow they fly to Alicante to spend New Year in Sta Pola, including greeting the Three Kings arriving in style for the twelfth night fiesta. It's four degrees in Cardiff today, but twenty four degrees down there in Sta Pola.

Boxing day outing

2009-12-26T22:09:00.001Z

We had tickets booked for Kath, Rhiannon and I to go skating this morning. It started to rain as we all began to walk down to City Hall Gardens, but by the time we'd arrived and donned skates, it had stopped, and remained so for the hour of our skating session. We even had a rainbow. It was a delightful experience to share, with lots of photos taken, and hot chocolates drunk afterwards. Then we all made our ways into the city centre to sample the delights of the Boxing Day sale. It is the first time I can ever recall having done this. Normally we head off for a country walk, but apart from Owain Clare and I, none of the others had sampled the delight of our new shopping Shangrila.

It was very busy indeed. I took James for a tour of the technology stores in search of a laptop for him, and be the end of trading we'd obtained an excellent Song Vaio at a decent discount. The rest of the evening was spent setting it up, explaining step by step all the useful features, and getting it to work in the safest, hassle free manner. An enjoyable thing to do with an unquisitive teenager.

Christmas Morning

2009-12-25T17:24:00.002Z

I walked down for the Sung Eucharist of the day, under clear skies, with the sun rising from behind the horrible Greyfiars tower. There we no rough sleepers sheltering under the portico of the Law Courts or any outher civic building that I could see. Hopefully that means all are taken care of, and in good company somewhere locally. Just a handful of cars were parked in Edward VII ave, where they are usually hundreds, and hardly a soul in sight. Complete tranquility.

There were about fifty people in church. Several young couples brought their offspring, so it was just lovely to have the sound of children's voices in church. Just the way it should be on this day of the Holy Child. All the family came - a special pleasure for me. By the time I got home after the tidy up, lunch preparations were well advanced. After feasting sumpuously, we sat down with the Christams tree candles lit, to exchange presents, and I fell immediately to sleep, waking up an hour later to a small pile of unopened presents. Everyone else had carried on around me, and I was oblivious. Thanks heavens, not sick this year, but evidently more tired than I realised, and so grateful for all the blessings of home and family, which I know so many to be deprived of.

Christmas Eve - an orderly affair

2009-12-25T15:54:00.001Z

Another frosty day, and yet another telephone call to the insurers disclosed that the car write off was official. A write-off sum was agreed, and that set the the rest of the procedure in motion which enabled us to insure, then go and buy the replacement Golf, fortunately just a couple of miles away from home. Kath, Anto and Rhiannon arrived just as we returned with our prize. It was all just in time for me to leave for church and the midday Eucharist. This year there were just a couple of dozen people present, but it was still worthwhile, for the sake of those who will be with family or friends for the rest of the festival.

There was time to get things ready for the Midnight Mass before taking Communion to Hilda number one. (I have two Hildas who are home communicants at the moment). Hilda number two is away with family. Then it was time to go and fetch Amanda and James from Bristol. It's the first time for several years that they've been able to be with us for Christmas.

Over a hundred people were present for the Midnight Mass. Only 10% of the congregation were people I already knew. There was a significant number of young Asians (as often happens at this service), also older people enjoying Christmas in one of the local hotels.

Most remarkably, the streets were almost empty of revellers and rubbish. The pubs had already closed when I arrived at 10.30pm. The City centre was beautifully quiet, abandoned to those coming to worship. No trouble with drunken revellers or disorderly conduct. You could attribute this to the cold weather, or to recession encouraging cost cutting overtime saving early closures, or to the termination of bus services early in the evening. Or a combination of all of these. For the streets to be reclaimed by late night worshippers and, most importantly, elderly visitors is a triumph, of social engineering or a happy combination of random factors. But one way or another it felt like a triumph to me, and it put me in great mood for the celebration.

It reminded me of those quiet frosty Christmas Eves in Geneva, when the only people out apart from worshippers would be worshippers and late diners in posh restaurants for 'le reveillon' as the evening meal on Christmas Eve is called.

Now what must be done to ensure this becomes the quality benchmark of a visitor friendly city for festive seasons to come?

A wintry farewell

2009-12-23T18:28:00.001Z

Forty eight hours pass. We are unable to extract any news from the insurers. However, we have seen the Golf we propose to buy, a bright blue green colour 1995 'Match' in excellent condition. An affordable bargain, but we still have to wait.

After the Eucharist, two hundred people in church - not for anything Christmassy, but for the funeral of the young mother of two who booked me for the occasion just a couple of weeks ago.

Her husband had composed a beautiful moving poetic tribute to their life together, and this was read by his best friend. The children and close family members placed flowers on her coffin and the children offered some drawings which were blu-tacked to the sides.

As we parted from the church at the end we sang '

"You shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace,
and the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you,
there'll be shoults of joy, and the trees of the field shall clap shall clap their hands."

This was approved at my final meeting with the couple. Philip drove it along nicely on the organ. The first verse was a bit of a struggle, but it picked up in the second. I'd reached to door by the time we finished, turned and started a round of applause, quickly taken up by the congregation, although it was not perhaps what they had expected in their moment of sadness, until they realised that they could make it as their own tribute to a remarkable woman who's shown such honest and courage in the face of her own death.

The traffic was congested and slow driving to the crematorium in heavy sleet, but enough time had been left to ensure we were punctual, and for once we needed that extra because of the poor conditions. After the brief committal, there was a long slow departure. The children cried and dad comforted them, and the entire congregation attempted to comfort them all as they went past, a community of family and friends embracing them with sympathy and compassion. People at their best.

There was a reception afterwards at the Llandaff Rowing Club clubhouse, overlooking the weir above the Cathedral. It was the first time I'd been there. Views from there are excellent. As everyone relaxed, the children began to discharge some energy, running around, and then settled back into play, encouraged by some thoughtful adult family and friends. Drinks were purchased, and people began to unwind, catch up with each other and share their recollections. Then it was time for me to head off home by bus, and start setting my mind towards finishing the necessary preparations for Christmas celebrations tomorrow.

The shortest day

2009-12-21T21:12:00.000Z

With the temperatures hovering around zero, and the streets icy, we felt quite nervous about taking to the roads in our posh hire car, and went out everywhere on foot. As many organsations seem to have shut down already for Christmas, the on street car parking was as quiet as a Sunday until late morning, when it filled with shoppers' cars.

We heard from the insurance repariers that the cost of the damage is more than four times what our ancient car is worth. It's a certain write off, although we will have to wait to be informed of that. The insurance call centre was non-committal on how long that would take, although he did say vagiely that it should be about 48 hours. Thankfully, when Clare rang our garagist to ask his opinion, about the possibility of him taking on the car for repair, knowing his ability to do things to the same high standard but much cheaper. But it would still be more costly than the compensation we'd get, because of the age of the car. He was able to put us in touch with someone wanting to sell a car he'd serviced for years, of a similar age, substance and price to the one we have to part with. I wonder how long we'll have to wait to get clearance to move on buying this? It is after all the season of office parties.

Young witnesses

2009-12-20T20:51:00.007Z

The Sunday before Christmas closest to the end of term is an occasion, before families start going away for Christmas, when church children present the nativity story to the congregation in a play or a tableau, often in a liturgical setting. Purists can argue for all their worth that this detracts from Advent or dilutes Christmas just as 'the world' does (from mid-November), but this is an occasion all regular churchgoers want to share together. Contemporary patterns of mobility mean that the worshipping community is more likley to be scattered than to gather as usual at the festive season. Midnight Mass will again be attended by a majority of worshippers I don't recognise, visiting from elsewhere. This development has occurred during my forty years of ministry.

When I was young, Sunday Schools were big organisations with a life of their own, sometimes quite separate from the life of a church's congregation. The Sunday School arranged a Nativity spectacular and the rest of the church was invited to attend and observe. Adult worship services remained as they ever had been - segregated and formal. Children attending were expected to 'behave', meaning 'be seen and not heard'. In the 1970s, the pressure of declining numbers led to a complete re-think of what worshipping community should be. The idea of All Age worship and Family Services, gained acceptance in some places and worshippers generally began to get used to having children not only present but contributing to acts of worship.

This hasn't always been an easy or comfortable arrangement for all taking part. The needs of children and adults are different. Yet, people of all ages are united in the loving embrace of the same Christ, and that leads to occasions in worship when all, regardless of age, find themselves united in a shared experience of prayer. As congregations have grown smaller and older on average, the presence of any child has come to be appreciated by many, as adults realise that children are not just the future of the church, but part of its present.

In the ancient church, children often read scripture to the congregation, their innocence being regarded as contributing purity of spirit to worship. In third world churches where population growth means the majority of church members are under 21, witness to faith by children contributes significantly to the church's evangelistic initiative.

St John's is unlike an averagely mixed suburban congregation, since it is mainly comprised of older people. However, this is not the whole story. We do have several young families, and over the past decade, a new generation of children has emerged, brought to church since infancy. They are known and cherished by the elders, valued as hurch members. The Sunday before Christmas is an occasion when the children, with lots of adult encouragement and support, tell the story everyone cherishes to the whole church, at the Parish Eucharist.

After the Scripture for today, Alex and Bethan delivered a rap version of the nativity story, which I wrote and first used for Sunday School adolescents in my Geneva days. Then, our little handful of under fives sang 'Away in a Manger', we blessed the Crib, and the congregation sang 'Away in a Manger' again with them. All very simple and unpretentious, but bonding us together, across generations, recalling our Lord's birth. A special memory of St John's that I will cherish in years to come.

There were nearly a hundred of us for the Nine Lessons and Carols service this evening. Clare read a lesson perfectly in Welsh. Bethan, ever enthusiastic also read, for the second time today, and opened the service, playing 'Once in Royal David's city' on her flugelhorn. Half of those who were present I didn't recognise as being among our regular or irregular attenders. This says a great deal about the potential of St John's to offer a celebration that appeals to people who are not committed but searching for an experience of worship to help them discover where they are in relation to God.

One couple said they'd come down from Treorchy, at the top end of the Rhondda train line, thirty miles away. Another young man had crossed the city to join us, his second visit, as he sets out on a journey to discover what his own relationship with God means for him in practice - he came in on Friday as well. This morning we were joined by a man of Mauritian origin from the far east of Cardiff, who'd set out to reconnect with the faith of his youth, and started with us, as a place that was similar to the worship that shaped his early experience back home.

The fact that St John's keeps the faith and maintains its traditional expressions of worship may not be exciting or attractive to everyone in these restless and critical times, yet its constancy does speak to the hearts of some seeking to renew their relationship with God. or wanting to start somewhere accessible in asking questions about God. Not just at this peculiarly 'religious' time, but all year round. The challenge for us for whom this place is a spiritual home, is to be ever awake and ready to engage at a level of faith sharing with the strangers in our midst, regardless of where sowing the seeds of God's Word will lead.

Christ in the centre

2009-12-19T20:02:00.011Z

An Advent tradition, better known in Europe than Britain, is a meditative walk, taken along the arm of a spiral pattern laid out on the floor, either in a sanctuary or a garden. It has symbols decorating the way, associated perhaps with biblical prophetic verses or images, pointing to the coming nativity story, and at its very center is a lit candle. The whole represents the journey within, to meet Christ at the heart of all things, Word made flesh in the Christmas mystery, soon to be celebrated.

In the week before Christmas, since I've been here in Cardiff, I've devised my own Advent walk. I go from one hotel to another in the city centre 'square mile', to offer leaflets publicising any special seasonal events at St John's, and above all the Christmas services. The city's hotels are filled with visitors from near and far away at this time of year. Some of them will be enquiring about locally accessible Christmas services. My little walk takes the information to those who are looking after visitors while they are here, and gives me a glimpse into the smart hotel foyers of the city.

Since I began, seven years ago, the number of hotels in the centre of Cardiff has risen by four to fifteen. Two have had a complete makover, several have changed hands. Demand for hotel rooms in the centre still outweighs supply. A couple more new hotels are still on the drawing board, to be built when the economy picks up again.

Today, the weather was perfect for brisk walking; bright, sunny, clear and dry, with a persistent frost. Starting from St John's with a couple of hundred freshly printed leaflets, my journey went as follows :-

The Angel Hotel, Westgate Street
The Holiday Inn, next to Canton Bridge
The Sandringham Hotel, St Mary Street
Travelodge, St Mary Street
Sleeperz Hotel, Saunders Road, by Central Station
The Marriott, Mill Lane
Radisson Blu, Bute Terrace
The Big Sleep Hotel, Bute Terrace
The Park Inn Hotel, Mary Ann Street
Hotel Ibis, Churchill Way
The Holland House Mercure Hotel, Newport Road
The Thistle Park Hotel, Park Place
The Park Plaza Hotel, Greyfriars
The Hilton Hotel, Greyfriars

I ended up by dropping off leaflets at the tourist information centre and the new library - other obvious places where people might enquire about Christmas services.

Each place has its own character. All are spruce and welcoming by nature. The newest hotels replace a long check-in counter in the lobby with a series of swish looking desks with computer terminals, emphasising the personal service being offered. In none of them was the lobby empty of guests going or coming, nor of staff to receive my little offering with courtesy and sometimes appreciation. It's a ritual they probably go through many times a week with people bringing in publicity material for a thousand and one different events.

Over the years I have dreamed of getting a churches promotional page into circulation on all the cable TV setups in the hotels. Whilst the concept is simple enough, it would require time for research, and an effective PR campaign and on-going management of the resource to make a long term sustainable difference. Desirable, not impossible, but still a dream, because there isn't a churchgoing insider in this industry to help steer the idea into realisation.

Meanwhile, I hand over my pieces of paper, conscious that they have a shelf life of less than a week, and may well get misplaced or binned. I always say "Just in case someone asks you about Christmas services in the next few days". Actually I'm hoping God is listening too. It's a kind of prayer in hope that St John's will have another festive opportunity to share faith in Christ with people the city welcomes as visitors and tourists. As I walk, I pray that the city centre, despite its reputation for debauched festivities, will be a place both of hospitality, peace and revelation in coming days. 'Christ in mouth of friend and stranger'.

At tea time, we had parishioners in for carol singing, mulled wine, mince pies and much convival laughter for a couple of hours. Tomorrow morning, the children will take their turn to tell us the Christmas story. It's Advent Four, and we have Nine Lessons and Carols in the evening. We have no compunction about jumping the gun, liturgically speaking, because these are all things we love to share together. Many of our community will be travelling elsewhere to share Christmas with their families. One who stayed last year said that when she arrived at Midnight Mass she was surprised to discover how few people she recognised were present, and yet there was a crowd of about a hundred - visitors mostly. That's the nature of the place in which our bonds of affection are rooted.

Home visit

2009-12-18T22:00:00.002Z

Our poor injured VW was taken away to the repairers this morning. We were warned that it is likely to be deemed a write-off, because of the low market value of the car - meaning we won't get anything like what it's worth to us, not to have to change cars before it's absolutely vital. and the car is completely worn out and. Up until the moment of impact it was completely reliable, safe to drive, with several years worth of life in it before the scrapheap beckoned. Now the cost of replacing the front suspension is likely to be as much if not more than the sale value of the car. Such a shame. We now have a few days to wait and assess our options.

After the lunchtime Eucharist and my usual washing up stint in the tea room, I was given a lift up to the valleys village to visit at home the bereaved family whose mother's funeral I am preparing for next week. I was most grateful for this lift, as it would have been exceedingly difficult to find the house first time on my own. It's the first opportunity we've had to sit down and talk together since her death. The family has really worked hard and pulled together to get to grips with the last few months of terminal illness and death. I've got to make sure that the funeral is a real positive turning point for them all, just as she wanted it to be.

A city centre walk through with a difference

2009-12-17T16:43:00.007Z

One of the Focus Groups formed to prepare the city centre for the opening of the new St David's shopping complex continues in pursuit of its remit, and that's the Disability Access Group. As the Faith Focus Group also addressed itself to access issues questioning the impact of pedestrianisation on congregational access to places of worship in the city centre, I was also invited to join a walk around city centre this morning, to inspect changes in the public realm and assess their impact on disabled people. Two blind people came with guide dogs, another two were on wheels, and there were several access specialists among the dozen of us that made the walk.

We met in sunshine for a change, and air more seasonable than it has been for many months, outside Santa's Grotto on Queen Street. We then inspected the re-vamped disabled parking bays nearby on Churchill Way. Several are snagged by Telecoms junction boxes and lamp posts, positioned on pavement's edge. There are no big signs to identify the existence of special bays from a distance. The biggest snag remaining, however, is other road users, queuing around the block to get into the Capital Centre car park, or stopping to drop off or pick up passengers without parking properly. These can obstruct if not occupy the special bays. Traffic can only be kept moving if a traffic warden is permanently present. It's the kind of headache that's constantly there for those trying to keep the centre free moving and accessible for all.

We walked Queen Street, observing the number of sunken or broken paving stones It's only four years since that whole surface was re-laid. Four cyclists rode through the crowds during the five minute walk, despite the return of the cycling ban during pedestrian precinct hours. There are 'no cycling' signs up, but words to that effect in plain language beneath them are absent. Underneath a coat of silver paint, the panel is still visible which was erected in the experimental period when cycling through the area in commuter hours was tolerated. Beneath that, no doubt is the original legend 'no cycling'. Since when was application of a screwdriver cheaper than a coat of paint?

We then inspected the new Kingsway pedestrian crossing, a wide and unobstructed brick path on an elevated 'table' set in the road tarmac. We were told that the lights were set to permit the maximum time of 30 seconds for pedestrians to cross. Fine if you can walk at fifty feet a minute but some disabled people find that a bit of a struggle. It's not so easy if your vision is restricted either, and you rely on there being tactile surfaces or kerbs to alert you to boundaries between pavements and roads. There's not meant to be a refuge in the middle of the road, although in the middle oddly enough there are lights and pedestrian buttons, but no tactile surface to let someone poorly sighted and slow on their feet know that they can stop there safely if they've run out of time crossing the road. Good to have had this insight into the complex problems involved in making the city totally user-friendly.

We then went into the Castle, to receive a presentation about the pedestrianisation of High Street, opposite the Castle front entrance. There was plenty of discussion about this as the Disability Access Group is a key consultation partner in finalising appropriate plans. We were also given an insight into the problems the Castle management had encountered, at great cost to the public purse, by the rejection by CADW of proposals and plans to install a lift to allow access to all three levels of the main building by disabled people.

CADW has a rigorous policy of conserving listed buildings at some theoretical point in their history without much reference to their present use and evolution. The intention is not to let what's left of our historic heritage be eroded by degrees, but it risks ending up disregarding that old buildings still a current life, and need adaptation to changing circumstances. Buildings are for people, not people for buildings, after all. Well, except in Wales.

Worse still, CADW is accountable to the WAG. It's not an independent body like English Heritage, whose decisions can more easily be challenged. Having CADW as an arm of devolved government is a peculiar political decision, as it gives a bureaucratic institution effective power of veto against the continued development of an old building and its use. This affects churches every bit as much as castles and stately homes. This symbiosis is not good for the health and credibility of regional governance.

By way of contrast, this evening Clare took me to a carol party with friends and supporters of the Steiner School. It was a very traditional affair, quiet and reflective, around a tall Christmas tree with real lit candles. Several people read poems or spoke. One woman showed and talked about two icons she'd painted. With another woman, I discovered a common acquaintance with Father Nicholas Behr, priest of the Russian Orthodox Church, whom Clare and I got to know 45 years ago as students in Bristol. Our first ecumenical encounters were with Orthodoxy, both Russian and Greek. It was in dialogue with Father Nicholas, curious about Anglicanism as I was about Orthodoxy, that I realised how much teaching I'd absorbed unconsciously as a teenager, singing in the choir and ringing bells, from my own Vicar, Alun Davies. Father Nicholas, I learned, died seven years ago, after a time in which he had withdrawn from public ministry and become a hermit.

I'd love to know more about his life since our paths diverged in the seventies. I tried googling his name, but found very little. Nothing I didn't already know. As befits a man who ended his days as a hermit.

Meeting of minds

2009-12-16T22:47:00.000Z

Back to school this morning for an pre-Christmas Eucharist with staff and pupils for Fr Roy Doxsey and I. There's so much going on in the last fortnight of term with several Nativity presentations for the audience of parents, plus carol singing in the community by children for the school's neighbours, that it's not easy to ensure the end of term Eucharist is really special. What's wonderful is the effort staff put into ensuring it is the way it's meant to be. It's their expression of value for something that's at the core of the lives of many of them at home, but which they are also glad to take into their professional world with them.

I just wish that we, as clergy could do their faith better justice, perhaps by spending more time with them, drawing out from them what they'd like to be receiving from us clergy, rather than the formulaic 'business as usual' we deliver.

After the lunchtime Eucharist in St John's, a return to school for me, for the first of the school's two presentations of the Infant nativity play, attended by a huge host of parents, eagerly taking pictures or videoing the event on their cameras or phones, proud of their offspring's contribution, as I know I am when I get to see my grand daughter Rhiannon perform, although not this year, because she was poorly and unable to take part.

After school I went over to Shand House to the Novas-Scarman Trust offices, to meet a team of three people with whom I hope to be working as a volunteer after my retirement. Eventually I hope that my fascination with technology will be turned into something at least as socially useful as creating church websites. Novas-Scarman is hosting a Digital Inclusion project whose aim is to teach and train people in using information technology, who've been left behind by education, age ability or social deprivation, and enable a generation of people lost to technology to find their confidence, tell their stories, pursue their enthusiasms, link up with their peers, in whatever way they feel able to cope with.

I really enjoyed this particular meeting of minds, and look forward to working with them in times to come. Not the usual kind of pastoral work assumed to be the métier of a retired priest maybe, but something that will be both a challenge and pleasure for me.

Car values

2009-12-15T23:58:00.005Z

Tredegarville School Juniors were doing their Nativity play in St Germans first thing this morning. I had to walk there, as Clare needed to car for shopping and other activities. Twenty minutes into the enchanting presentation, I had a text message from Clare to say someone had crashed into the car on the way back from the supermarket, so I had to return home as swiftly as I'd left it, to give her some comfort and assess the situation.

Another motorist had driven out of a side street and hit the front wing and wheel. Clare had driven home in a state of shock with a wobbly wheel. I guess that's the front suspension gone. Lots of phone calls followed, and as it wasn't her fault, by six were were in possession of a replacement hire car. Our own was certainly not safe to be taken anywhere except on the back of a tow truck. Will our beloved 19 year old WV Golf ever work again? We both wondered.

Both of us felt in awe of this new modern Vauxhall Meriva with 3,500 miles on the clock as opposed to our 199,900 mile Golf, worth a tenth of the new car we'd just been loaned. So light and airy, slick and efficient with its digital displays, electric locks and windows. Just a standard modern car, easy to drive, comfortable-ish, safe and easy to handle, apart from brakes which seem too powerful and aggressive after seemingly laid back but always accurate efficiency of our ancient German masterpiece. Yes, we're both nervous of making a mistake with such a new car, So expensive, compared to what we're used to.

We drive the Golf without being nervous of it. It's sturdy and safe. Because it's un-glamorous and old, it doesn't attract attention from thieves or jealous souls. We don't have to worry about the odd bump or scratch because it's so well constructed that it hasn't and won't readily rust into holes. Bumpers may dent but won't shatter expensively on impact. We don't have to worry about depreciation rates of one or two thousand pounds a year. It has a catalytic exhaust and is quite economical for car of its age. Having this as our only car means we're both attached to it. And, it's identical to the model we drove untroubled in Switzerland for eight years. That's why I bought it on sight, paying slightly over the odds for my enthusiasm, when we first arrived back in Cardiff.

From our viewpoint, having limited resources, the total cost of ownership of the Golf over its life span in our ownership is pretty frugal. Why even think about changing it? But, what if, what if it's a write-off? One big dent in the wing, and collapsed front suspension. How much to repair? More than the car's market value? But it's worth a fortune to me. It works the way I want a car to work in my world of frugal economics. We've a few days of uncertainty ahead of us, until we know the verdict on the Golf.

This afternoon, the Tuesday group gathered, there were nine of us altogether, for an Advent devotional service, based on the special seasonal liturgical texts, giving me an opportunity to reflect with them on the business of preparing for Christmas in practical terms, exploring the link between memories we have and food we eat, remembering people, and remembering God, present in our lives as much as we are prepared to awaken to His presence with us. For me it was some fresh thinking arising from the stimulus provided by last week's radio Four Food Programme. I was pleased to have something new to say for a change. I hope they were pleased to have something new to think about also.

Tale of two carol services

2009-12-14T21:39:00.003Z

Two regular annual carol services were booked in for today. The Welsh Assembly Government at lunchtime and Quadrant (a Cardiff P.R. company) this evening.

A month ago I had a call from an official at WAG informing me that the booking was cancelled. No explanation offered. Last year saw a change in Permanent Secretary, appointed to the WAG from Whitehall. Her predecessor always attended and read a lesson. For one year only this was repeated.

I learned from a colleague that a second WAG carol service customarily took place down the Bay. Government institutions are distributed between the Senedd complex and the former Welsh Office in Cathays Park, close to where we live. The service in the Bay had lately moved into the Senedd building itself, and continues this year.

Well, I guess this is a time of recession and some evidence of spending cuts has to be made visible, so why not carol services? They may not cost a fortune to run, but as the old saying goes: 'look after pennies and pounds look after themselves'. I wonder if the audit of small things evaluates the additional cost of staff time and expended in getting staff from Cathays Park to the Senedd and back for one carol service?

Or is it a matter of death by incremental cuts? Next year will there be no employee carol service, in the interests of strict equality between all government employees, regardless of their religion or lack of it? If so, will anyone notice? Apart, that is, from the few who are eager to welcome anyone for whatever half decent reason into the house of God.

There were 150 people present for the Quadrant Carol service this evening, an event laid on for their employees and business partners, raising funds for the Marie Curie Hospice in Penarth. I'm glad St John's serves such initiatives involving voluntary charitable causes, generating social capital, just by being there, welcoming those organisations that seek to connect with worthy causes.

It will be interesting to observe what happens next year.

A shrinking profession

2009-12-13T17:03:00.020Z

Today, as is customary on the third Sunday of Advent, the Archbishop sent us a letter to read out at services, appealing for prayers and donations in support of the church's ministry candidates. You can read the letter here. It flags up a significant moment in the life of the contemporary church. For the first time in his sixteen years as a Bishop, no candidates have been presented for ordination to full-time ministry. Across the Church in Wales this means a shortfall of eighteen clerics available to supply a rapidly growing number of vacancies caused by the generation of clerics my age now retiring.

Decline in vocations, especially among younger people looking for a lifetime of service in ordained ministry, has been going on for several decades in churches all over Europe of all denominations. The average age of those offering themselves for ordination is now higher, leading to a reduction in average length of careers in full time ministry. While there are still a fair number of people offering themselves for self supporting ministry, earning their own livings, or early retirees, the lack of people available to take incumbencies as full-time ministers is leading to an urgent need to re-think the way in which parishes are led and managed.

There has been a drastic shrinkage in the number of people attending church and supporting its work financially, but this has not led to a parallel reduction in the number of churches and parishes. When there are vacancies, efforts are made to group churches and parishes to work together under remaining leadership to keep as many of them as possible open and functioning, even if on a reduced scale. Real closures, real mergers of parishes are a last resort.

Whilst rationalisation of resources for the sake of effective mission is a reasonable aim, it is all too easy not to recognise the real significance and social impact of closing churches or merging parishes. Church buildings are community assets, often undervalued by a wider population whose affiliation is either casual or minimal. A small number of committed faithful people struggle to keep them open in order that they can remain part of what I am now hearing called 'social infrastructure'. Only when church buildings are no longer available for their traditional function, or disappear altogether is the loss widely felt, and then it's too late. Having endured the closure of St James' church three years ago, and witnessed the impact of this locally, I am convinced that losing a church must remain a last resort wherever possible.

Awareness of this responsibility is a terrible burden, not least on the full time professional clerics, often unwillingly cast in the role of resources manager or entrepreneur. Not to succeed, not to be good at it, can damage a cleric's health and sanity. It can also deter vocations from those who may have sufficient piety, learning and interest in people to want to do the job, but fear they aren't up to the responsibility and challenge of both supporting the faithful few and tackling the role of the managing the church's material assets in a time of crisis.

So many lay people have been lost to the church who would at one time have relished the task of managing and developing every aspect of church life, with the result that the pastor could just do pastoral work. Nowadays the cleric must be a jack of all trades and know how everything is done, either to fill the gaps, or teach others how to. Far too many aspects of church management still have to be processed via the Vicar. Far too much communication and administration is centralised in the role of the office holder by the top down way the church is managed. Clergy are conditioned for this by training, by the expectations they meet, and by acquired habit. Delegation is a vital skill, but not every incumbent has this ability well developed. They can easily become a throttle to a church community running itself effectively.

I believe that nothing short of a complete re-design of the way the church runs, from Bishop downwards, is going to strengthen the capacity of lay people to take total responsibility for the life of parishes, pastoral, educational, administrative, and the management of their buildings. This has been happening in recent decades in places where priests are really scarce - across Europe and in rural tracts of third world countries. The few priests there are in such demand for liturgical and pastoral functions that everything else has to learn to run without them or die.

It's also worth noting that successful missionary evangelical church plants of the past quarter of a century often grew out of lay led initiatives, born of frustration with traditional church structures and methods. These have understood the danger of over dependency on 'professional' leadership, and the need to share responsibility for all aspects of running the church. These new communities grow their own pastoral leaders sometimes leading them to ordination if the community thinks this is needed, although this is not always the case.

Maybe traditional church members are being deterred from offering for ordination because of prospects which daunt all but the bravest or craziest. On the other hand, maybe God is also at work inspiring restraint and reluctance leading to a dearth of candidates, so that things cannot just continue as they always have done, so that Anglicanism, with its call to be church in and for all people in a locality, will reform itself rather than die.

In the midst of life ...

2009-12-12T21:26:00.003Z

I had a text message when I switched on my phone first thing from the husband of the mother in hospital to tell me that she'd died at two in the morning, seven and a half days since I first went to see them.

We went out shopping for kitchens to have installed in our house, ready for when we retire, and then took off for Bristol to see Amanda and her son James, who has recently chipped his elbow and is in plaster.

While we were there, my mobile phone rang. It was Pidgeons the funeral directors, checking out the possibility of a funeral date, the day before Christmas Eve. A husband's grief expressed in practicalities, before he crashes with exhaustion. I doubt if he's slept much this past week, needing to live every moment with his soul mate, in case it proved to be her last.

So much love, so much pain, which God alone can assuage.

An uncertain journey to take

2009-12-11T19:29:00.001Z

Yesterday evening St John's welcomed the annual carol service of the Order of St John, Priory for Wales. There were over 300 people in church, sixty of them choristers from a junior school choir plus a male voice choir. We also had a baritone soloist who also read a poem, and a violin soloist contributing, making the event a little longer than may have been comfortable for some. It made the event slightly less of a popular carol service and a bit more of a performance, to my mind. It'll be interesting to see what feedback there is about this.

After the service, I learned from a St John's senior staff member that Andrew, a long standing St John's Ambulanceman who was on placement with us when he was a student at St Mike's three years ago, has resigned his curacy in order to become a Roman Catholic. He'd remained a Deacon after ordination and assignment to a Parish, as his request to be ordained by one of the remaining 'flying bishops' had been refused. He accepted that the Church in Wales ordained women to the priesthood and respected them as colleagues, believing it might be possible to live together with differences and be part of the same church. He conscientiously dissented from being priested by a Bishop who ordains women. With the retirement and non-replacement of Wales' only flying Bishop last year, the possibility of him being priested locally on terms that respected his conviction ended.

I emailed him as soon as I got home, and this morning's reply was evidently written in the small hours. He spoke of agonising about his position in relation to the leadership of the Church in Wales. His departure is an expression of no confidence, but his acceptance of the Pope's authority will put to the test his vocation to serve as a minster of the Gospel in a new way. There's no certainty there'll be a place for him in the ranks of Rome's ordained, despite the much published recent initiative of the Holy Father to accommodate ex-Anglicans. Rome is every bit as rigid as Anglicanism in retaining its hierachies, traditions, dogmas and its decisions about how to adapt to changing times. The individual who finds it hard to compromise their heart felt convictions and ideals is destined to have a tough time wherever they make their spiritual home.

This makes me sad, and to some extent I take refuge from painful issues like this, by immersing myself in the everyday life of a congregation about its business, where there is much kindness, mutual accommodation, patience, tolerance and humour to compensate for the disappointment that our leadership seems to be losing the struggle to inspire everyone to hold together despite our differences.

The tea room was hectically busy after the Eucharist, and everyone was under pressure. Just as I took my place for an hour or so's washing up at the kitchen sink, chaos broke out when a cup of hot tea spilled across the counter and into the open money drawer, soaking all the notes as well as coins. In seconds the sodden notes were fished out and transferred across to the sink area for drying out with paper towels. In the confusion I dropped a clip containing twenty pound notes into the soapy dishwater, whereupon jokes about the Vicar's money laundering erupted and had everyone laughing. Heaven only knows what visitors made of this craziness.

Thinking ahead

2009-12-08T22:06:00.004Z

There were over twenty of us for the annual Tuesday Group Christmas lunch today. It was a pleasant occasion in our usual venue, a large pub with a restaurant carvery serving turkey, ham or beef with a choice of half a dozen different vegetables. Ours was just one of several groups enjoying a seasonal lunch and relaxed conversation together. The staff were working amazingly hard to ensure client turnover at a reasonable rate, so that nobody had to queue for too long. Despite the down turn in eating out as a result of the recession, this remains a popular eaterie, but it must be tough to stay profitable. Everyone has to work harder to stay in work.

After lunch, I went back into town on the bus for a meeting. After I'd sat down, the driver a young Irishman, called me forward, asked me what religion I was. He settled for me saying I was Christian and then asked if I'd pray for a friend of his who was on the bus and wasn't very well. It's not the kind of thing that normally happens to me when I wear a clerical collar, but when it does, it's heart-warming, as it goes so directly against the secular tide of indifference about things religious.

The meeting in City Hall was of a Vision Forum work group, attempting to identify the key components for shaping a 20 year development plan for the City. So-called 'blue skies thinking' exercises like this seem curious at first sight. However, the world is now changing rapidly, in ways not envisaged when the last long term plan (on which the City's recent success relied) was formulated in the early nineties. It's necessary to look at what has changed and is changing, to ask what difference this makes in making maps to guide us into the future. Recession, the question of how to recover from it, and ensure continued appropriate development sums up the main preoccupation of the discussion.

This kind of exercise is laborious and complex and will last many months. It starts vaguely enough, but it has to conclude with a specific set of aims and values that a wide range of participants in shaping city life can own and act upon. I was pleased that Archdeacon Peggy and Gweini's Paul Hocking were present and taking part. I doubt that the churches played much of a part in shaping the vision of the Cardiff's development back in the nineties. It's been far too long since the churches took a serious interest in helping to form the social vision that enables the city to live and grow in healthy way. I hope this meeting marks a change for the better.

Wrestling the detail-devil

2009-12-07T23:47:00.003Z

I tried loading a Church Guide master file copy. It worked fine, and I was able to edit it. But I was lacking a picture of the organ that needed changing. I'd lost it. So went off to church to take it, but was thwarted because the console case was locked, so I had to return home, close up quickly and then head off disgruntled into the rain towards Abergavenny for another hospital visit. This soon restored my sense of perspective.

I was back in time for a late lunch before heading off to God on Mondays in Tredegarville school, via the church, for a rendezvous with Philip, who'd opened up the console, so that the instrument could 'pose' properly for me to photograph.

I got carried away story telling and combined the annunicaition to Mary and the annunciation to Joseph in a dream into one narrative, when I had intended to do the latter next week. I think I'll tell them the other dream story about Joseph. Not a bad idea really, as the flight into Egypt doesn't get much coverage in the usual Nativity narrative. It belongs with Epiphany really and this can get easily overlooked since it falls at a time when school re-starts after the vacation.

On return home, Publisher once more refused to open the file I had modified earlier in the day. So it was a question of opening a fresh unedited copy, which thankfully it did first time, then doing all the amendments and producing all seventeen files for the printer to use, in one sitting, to be sure of completing the taks before any file error crept in (straight from hell, I suspect). This meant letting supper go cool, but in the end, all was complete and ready to send, unless Richard spots anything amiss in the file I sent for him to check, that is.

Owain rang up enthusing about WordPress blogging software, encouraging me to try it out, so I registered for an account, and spent an hour or so setting up a new blog to experiment with and maybe develop as a retirement sideline. This particular blog will expire the day I retire.

Devil in the detail again

2009-12-06T23:30:00.002Z

The family of the young woman dying in hospital came to the Eucharist this morning. This was to give me an opportunity to meet her daughters ahead of the day they're all dreading. The people of St John's, not to mention the building itself, enfolded them and offered them a little peace and respite from their grief. She's changed her mind and now wants the funeral to be from St John's. I think that will be a blessing for all.

After evensong, much to my distress, Richard presented me with a list of proof corrections. I had secretly hoped this was all behind me, but his experienced eagle eyes trapped the flaws. The real worry for me is whether or not my edition of Publisher will load the necessary master file, as it has proved most unreliable installed on top of the hated Windows Vista. If it won't behave, I'll have all sorts of hassle, and will have to book time of my son's home computer, where it still runs flawlessly under XP with less memory. Will this nightmare never end, I wonder? And mroe importantly, what will the printer say when I beg for a second try?

After this bitter blow to my ego and complacency, I want to an Italian restaurant in the Brewery Quarter to share a meal with a group of colleagues to say farewell to Bay Chaplain Monica Mills, who is moving to a new 'retirement' job in Lymington. It was a pleasant occasion, although it was hard to concentrate of being convivial with the prospect of having to sort out these corrections haunting me. I hope this is not going to be the last straw that breaks the camel's back.

There are times when computers drive me utterly mad, and I wish I'd never bothered with them. But only some times.

On stage, for a change

2009-12-05T15:20:00.000Z

This lunchtime, I joined the Oriana womens' choir for their lunchtime Christmas gig performing at St John's. My role was to narrate Dylan Thomas' poetic prose essay 'A child's Chistmas in Wales'. It's a delight to read aloud, boh beautiful and funny. It also reminds me of the same world in which I grew up as a child - the world of imagination and larger than life grown-ups.

I ran the first piece of narrative into the second by a careless accident brought on by excess of enthusiasm, as I was having such a good time getting into character. This force the choir to do four pieces on the trot, plus a solo item, but after that, everything went smoothly. I really enjoyed reading aloud a script that wasn't a sermon. It reminded me of the poetry and jazz recitals which Clare and I took part in one summer when I was studying at St Michael's.

The proofs of the new edition of the church guide book have arrived. It's time to get someone else to do the checking. My brain can't concentrate on so many set words and pictures for so long. It's so much harder than performing a script out loud.

Pastor reminded

2009-12-04T23:01:00.001Z

I did an hour of washing up in the tea room after the Eucharist to steady myself with a bit of holy normality before setting off for my hospital visit to Abergavenny. The roads weren't too congested, but the rain was unpleasant. It was dusk by the time I arrived there.

Abergavenny signage is so behind the times that I was at a loss to find a big 'H' logo on any big green roadside panel I saw on the journey in. The only sign I found was a pre-1960 black and white finger panel a quarter of a mile before reaching the hospital campus. The hospital is a new one on an old site. There's no excuse for presuming that every service user in the whole of Monmouthshire can navigate by guesswork. I refuse to believe that one of Wales' richest counties cannot afford a few new signposts. It must reflect the kind of town council membership Cardiff wouldn't vote for.

By contrast, the hospital was easy to navigate within. At the end of a working day I was lucky to find a parking place nearby. Husband, brother and sister in law were waiting around mum's bed. Children were being cared for by friends, on rotation. I reckon this lovely couple are receiving the kind of love and support which they have given out to others in the ten years they've made a new home and raised a family in an old mining village. Mum is radiant, defiantly cheerful but realistic, knowing her time is nearly up, living her end to the full, cherishing every moment. She has good and bad days. With a mobile phone to hand, she texts her regular visitors to tell them when she's unable to cope with seeing them.

They praised the hospital, and the support team from the Hospice of the Valleys. It was clear they were being helped and guided in a wholesome way, right down to thinking about the funeral together, and how to involve their children and family in the whole process of dying and death. Hence the call to me. Mum remembered me from the last Christening, hoping and believing I could help them make it as positive a send off as possible. Whether they had other experiences of clergy ministering to them to draw upon I dared not ask. It's such an honour to be thus remembered and trusted.

With St James now closed, it would be necessary to find another funeral venue. Mum had school and youthful links with Roath, so I promised to look into this. Mum said she didn't regard herself as being brave. Indeed there were several flashes of their shared grief and sadness. No rage. Just acceptance - much more than resignation - a positive kind of determination not to squander existence on regrets or remorse. A woman who had I suspect, always known the secret of abundant life, even if this didn't always spell itself out in conventionally accepted religious ways.

I've been reflecting on this since. There are many in our secular modern world who live good and moral lives with integrity, spiritual lives one might say, but they don't go to church, don't seem to have any explicit faith, or else not much need to express it with religious talk and ritual. Could this be a result of sound nurture in faith? A nurture which teaches those who hear the Word of life to go out and live it completely, with such integrity that the conservative mind-set, so typical of much religious behavour, actually gets in their way, so they avoid it? Was this what Boenhoffer meant when he talked about the development of a new 'religionless Christianity'?

To be saved is to live, to act entirely by the grace of God. That means being gracious inspiring graciousness, kindness in others, being a person for others as Christ was man for others. God may not be in the conversation as such but God is often hidden, present but not obvious. I witnessed much love being tested to the full in this family tragedy.

'Ubi caritas, Deus ibi est'

I wonder if we really mean what we sing or say?