Anti-discrimination initiative

I attended the Council's Vision Board meeting this afternoon, reviewing the efforts being made by senior management in local government and statutory bodies to work together with shared strategic aims for the benefit of all citizens and aspects of life in the Borough. It's difficult dry technical stuff to follow on times, but an effort is made to keep an overview on the many and varied components of public life and organisations in response to changing times and circumstances.

Concern for the environment and the need to reduce carbon consumption is one feature slowly infiltrating itself into all agendas, health, transport, education, planning, development. Social inclusion and equality is another. Every organisation will have to react to rapid economic recession in terms of its own plans and budgets, but today, Council Leader Rodney Berman posed the question to the meeting of how responding to the recession might become a key issue for collaborative working and strategic planning. It's a much more difficult matter to address, but surely worthwhile.

Afterwards, I was able to give to the head of S E Wales Environment Agency, John Harrison, a copy of the Church in Wales' new document 'Caring for God's creation' - a Parish Green guide, launched at the September 08 Governing Body meeting, which I received in the post yesterday. Two years ago, I attended a presentation John arranged for faith groups on global warming, challenging us to consider what we have to contribute to debate and action on the subject. It was good to have something both of substance and quality to show him, and he was pleased to take a copy away with him. It's got me wondering what other denominations and faith communities have published by way of advice on green issues to their followers. I might just do a little investigation ....

Also after the meeting, Charles Willie of the Cardiff and Vale coalition for the disabled asked me if I'd be interested in a project he's engaged with on the social inclusion / anti-discrimination agenda. The project is a religious diversity awareness training programme, aimed at all sorts of people who work in public service organisations, addressing commonplace ignorance of other faiths and cultures, and aspects of discrimination rooted in religious issues, which are all too easily overlooked. I was delighted to be asked, and also delighted to think that a matter on which I have had increasing concern in recent years is being tackled in a purposeful way.

Back in the 1980 when institutional racism was first highlighted as an unacknowledged feature of public life in Britain, I recall the emergence of racism awareness training. In my limited experience, the lead was often taken by people with Christian roots. It seems that for this project the driving force, alongside the strong interest of Coalition for the Disabled in the rooting out of discriminatory practices, is the local office of the Scarman Trust, founded by Lord Scarman of blessed memory as a response to the enquiry he chaired into the Brixton and Toxteth riots. Both of these are secular organisations now addressing the issue of the marginalisation of religious communities in public life and attitudes. A fascinating turn of events in the light of my own experience.

The St Paul's riots in Bristol, which preceded both these events, had its own 'enquiry' in the form of a visit from a Parliamentary Select Committee, which achieved little, apart from making St Paul's issues a footnote to other incidents. Social conditions in all three areas were much the same, and took an age to heal and restore after the inquests. For me being Rector of St Paul's Area at that time was a most formative period in earlier ministry, teaching me the importance of engagement between faith communities and institutions of governance. It was not easy then. It still seems difficult today, except that growing diversity of Britain now means that more people rooted in faith communities are either politically active or working in the public sector. Yet somehow there's an inhibiting pressure that leads to a kind of shyness about engaging as people of faith on the full range of public issues - hence the poverty of response to our Spiritual Capital initiative last autumn. Perhaps this shyness is attributable to discriminatory pressures against people of faith. I certainly look forward to learning more about the project, when I meet with its leaders this Friday afternoon.

Hopeful times

This morning, it was quite pleasing to be able to produce my recently shed kidney stone to show the consultant, and then look at the CT scan image of it sitting in my bladder prior to expulsion. There was no doubt, from the comparison of shape and size that it was the same object and hadn't broken up in transit. Still, there's always a possibility of bits and pieces being left inside, although nothing was evident on the scan. So, the doctor was happy to dispense me from the operation, and book me in for a follow-up check in six months time. It's good, because it means that I can plan a holiday abroad now.

This afternoon we had the Tredegarville School Parent-Governor annual meeting, followed by a Governors meeting. It was good to be able to go into school for these, my first visit of the new year. The really good news is that the old school caretakers house is empty and can be made available for adaptation and development as a community education resource. There's a real possibility of available funding for the work that's needed and community groups around with an interest in becoming stakeholder partners in making the project happen. In a strange way, it's a repeat of the process by which we sought to develop the church, without success - but then we needed five times the amount of money we're now thinking about to be able to mount a viable project. Developing the house, by way of contrast, is a sustainable prospect.

Sunday pleasure

We were awakened this morning by Rhiannon, beaming with delight and climbing into bed with us accompanied by her soft toys. Kath brought her down by train to stay overnight, a special pleasure for us, compensating for our visit to see them being shortened by my kidney stone incident on New Year's Day.

Although my voice-box is still not back to normal, I have been feeling much better this past few days, so I went into church for the Parish Eucharist and preached to see how much I could handle of being back in public. Having such an invasive 'flu was more of a knock to my physical confidence than I was prepared for. I'm used to being resilient and bouncing back from illness, but I haven't been like that on this occasion. Archdeacon David Lee was there to celebrate, supportive as ever, and everyone was so kind and welcoming, it felt good to be back.

In the past few days, with plenty of time to spare, I have been able to prepare my series of Lent talks - 'Faith for hard times'. I've been thinking a lot about the priority of evangelism - 'in season and out of season', and drawing upon the work of a French Protestant theologian, Laurent Schlumberger, whose short tract 'Sur le seuil' (On the threshold) I was given on my ski expedition last winter by my friend Valdo. The book gives a penetrating analysis of modern culture and advocates a vigorous and disciplined examination by the church of its raison d'etre. Rather than just skimming it in French as I did the first time I read it, this time I properly translated key sections of text, to ensure I really did understand his propositions. It's been helpful in shaping what I want to offer as Lenten fare this year.

On a lighter note, Clare and I watched a classic 1960s French comedy movie on DVD after supper, about RAF air crew escaping France after being shot down over Paris, and featuring the inimitable Terry-Thomas speaking French with his wonderful accent Anglais - always source of amusement to the French. It had elements of the classic Great Escape movie about it, though the French title, la Grande Vadrouille translates as 'the Big Stroll' indicates it's a send-up of this genre of war movies.

Street Carers conclave

This evening I attended the fourth in a series of meetings of people who arrange soup runs for Cardiff's street people. This was the first meeting to be held in the absence of Council officers, and felt to be important as part of the bonding process that's been going on as these meetings have progressed, between disparate people with common concerns for the poor. They also wanted to meet, aware that all known to be involved so far are practising Christians, motivated by their faith, so this was also an opportunity for faith sharing - something which might stretch the patience of public officials used to functioning under the veil of secular neutrality.

Mine was the privilege of opening the meeting, with no need to remind anyone of why we were there. I simply selected half a dozen brief but appropriate patches of scripture relating to Christian ministry and its core values, from the writings of Paul, James, the author of Hebrews and the Gospels. It was a task which gave me pleasure, and I'd like to think gave the participants pleasure also, from the appreciative grunts and Amens uttered around the room. Each of the differing street caring groups present spoke about what they did and how they went about it. There was a remarkable congruence, and also a remarkable sense of gratitude expressed by people for what they received from their encounters with poor people on the streets.

Many echoed the words of the redoubtable Elizabeth Perret-Atkins, founder of Cardiff's 'Rainbow of Hope' coalition, which organises the best part of a hundred volunteers into rotas spanning the month, when she said : "Essentially its not about feeding or clothing needy people, it's about the people themselves, making community with them in which they can experience Christ's love at work." That's a lot more passionate and compassionate a conviction than the administrative idea of 'service provision for homeless rough sleepers'. It takes a lot of extra commitment, of going the 'second mile' with those in need. And we heard lots of small stories modestly told, about what volunteers get up to, over and above feeding and clothing people.

Elizabeth been applying herself to street ministry for sixteen years, as have several others. One man present, Andy, has been ministering on the streets for thirty years. Two people present were unashamed to say that once they had been out there on the streets on the receiving end, and had been helped to move on by people of faith. It was a joyous occasion, which gave some remarkable insights into an evangelical spirituality grounded in practical service of others. I wish I could have recorded it all to play back to students for the ministry.

My involvement in this process has arisen out of my ministry on the other side of the equation - the concerns and problems experienced by city council workers and management in relation to the poor on the streets and those caring for them. It's been marvellous working with Paul Hocking, Pastor of Thorhill Community Church, and Chair of Cardiff Gweini, with oversight of activities in the Christian voluntary sector, himself a member of a soup run team. He steered the conversation with great sensitivity, ensuring all had a voice. This gave me chance to listen and appreciate all that was being said.

I was pleased that at the end of the evening, the meeting, with 36 attendees endorsed the idea of a Street Carers' forum - a small group of representatives of the wide range of those involved, charged with facilitating good relationships between the voluntary community and the City's officers. This is, to my mind, involves interpreting the Council's intentions to Street Carers, and interpreting Street Carers intentions to the Council, for there is a huge culture gap between the administrative discipline of 'service provision', working within budgetary parameters, making funding bids, allocating resources with the highest of aspirations, and the 'organic' approach of Christian pastoral and missionary outreach, attempting to centre upon the whole person and not just their presenting needs, working with a vision of what it means to be a whole person, saved by grace, rather than managing an 'individual care plan'.

Fundamentally all parties want the same thing : well-being for those in need. However, statutory service provision is guided by the head, voluntary pastoral care, by the heart. Both are needed. Each can achieve in areas that the other cannot. There's no sane alternative to partnership and dialogue.

Now that we have the beginnings of a representative instrument for Street Carers, I believe more constructive moves can follow. There's a long way to travel, and I'm hoping and praying that such a joyous beginning will be characteristic of the journey together.

A special passing moment

Recovery from my Christmas 'flu has proved a much longer process than expected. The symptoms seem to fade away, and then return a few days later but much weaker, and I'm left with a physical energy deficit. Thankfully my brain seems to have overcome the inertia that accompanied the first couple of weeks of 'flu, and I've had enough energy to start drafting my series of Lent Talks. So, it's not been totally unproductive time for me.

This morning I went for a brief visit to hospital for a CT scan, cheerily and efficiently dispatched in under fifteen minutes from walking in. The man in the queue behind me had travelled the 25 miles from Merthyr Tydful for his scan. Presumably they don't have a scanner unit at the hospital here. It's a huge piece of capital investment, after all.

This afternoon I had the surprise I've been hoping for. I passed the offending kidney stone, with a little discomfort but almost no pain. I suppose it must have been sitting in my bladder looking for the way out since whenever it shifted out of the ureter duct where it had been lodged. since last Summer I just hope that today's fresh CT scan shows nothing where a partial blockage was detected back in July's scan. If that's the case, there's no need for an operation, nothing doubtful hanging over me.

I can only feel grateful that my body has done me this favour. As Allan our Parish Warden often says : "We are indeed fearfully and wonderfully made."

War vigil

The rate of recovery both from 'flu and from the kidney trouble seems very slow to me. I potter about the house, deal with emails, then snooze like an old man - heavens, I am an old man. Just a century ago I would not have lived so long, faced with such nasty bugs.

My daily routine includes a lot of listening to the news from the BBC, and reading up what it publishes on its websites, particularly about the distressing situation in Gaza. I have rediscovered Ma'an news, an independent Palestinian news agency, with people reporting from the inside of the conflict, just like the BBC. It's good factual objective reporting, with some interesting opinion pieces of the kind you simply wouldn't find without digging through the Western media.

When the UN school in Jabaliya was shelled Ma'an reported 42 dead while the BBC was giving the figure of 30 dead. It was a good 36 hours before the BBC revised its figure to 42 without comment. And how much we assume the BBC gets it right! We hear their statements discussed more than we hear what Hamas leaders actually have to say. Ma'an will give you texts to read in English so you can make up your own mind. Why their military people think they can achieve anything meaningful by provoking the greater might of Israeli forces to even more extreme acts of violence remains a total mystery to me, but the Hamas analysis of Palestinian oppression and injustice merits careful thought.

Admittedly it's almost impossible to get all the facts straight in any war situation, especially when violence to the truth is one of the key weapons used on all sides. According to technology news sources, there have been cyber-attacks on websites belonging to both Israelis and Palestinians, involving things as crude as defacement of web pages, re-routing them to other sites, and attempts to stop them functioning altogether by overloading them with false demands. As information and mis-information are all so critical in any power struggle, it's not surprising that technological dominance has become an important affair.

Anyway, as the days pass slowly, I read, watch and wonder. Sometimes my mind seems as empty as a desert. Words of prayer seem almost un-natural, unrelated, ineffective.

I have relied on the liturgical use of Psalmody so much over the past 45 years, but when I consider it in its raw un-filtered state, so much of its poetic imagery is of dominance, violence, retaliation. What am I doing? What are we filling our heads with?

I guess the sight in a BBC video clip of a small group of Israeli soldiers reciting prayers together (probably Psalms, like generations of Christian soldiers before them) out on the battlefield of Gaza shook those questions out of the shades of my mind into full consciousness. I'm sure I could write a tome that covers all the traditional rationale for these things, but none of that seems to be working for me at the moment. Why should I or anyone else bless God for the ability to wage war? (Psalm 144)

How will we ever rid the world from the worship of violence? Or cease to find glamour in vengance and retaliation?

Gregory for St Asaph

How pleasing to hear the news this evening of Gregory Cameron's election as Bishop of St Asaph. I got to know him as a young priest serving in Monmouth diocese twenty years ago, through the common connection we have with the sisters of the Holy Cross at Ty Mawr convent. No doubt there will be rejoicing there tonight, at the news that one of their Companion Brothers is to be a Bishop of the Church in Wales.

He is immensely capable and learned, and has served the Anglican Communion well during the past five years of politicking and disputes in its London central office. Sooner or later he would have ended up as a Bishop somewhere in England or maybe even abroad, because of his valuable contribution to the thinking of the Communion and the handling of its conflicts. It's a credit to the St Asaph electoral college that they have recognised his qualities and called him to leadership.

Like Monmouth diocese, where he grew up and started his ministry, St Asaph is a border diocese, with an interface between English and Welsh cultures as well as churches. He is well fitted to preside over the church in such a context, and after his time in the ACO astride the cultural differences of global Anglicanism, he has a special kind of experience to contribute to the leadership of the Church in Wales, that will help to ensure it doesn't turn further in on itself, in the struggle for survival.

New Year surprise

I was glad to feel well enough to travel up to Kenilworth to spend New Year baby-sitting grand-daughter Rhiannon while her parents played a gig in a local restaurant. On New Year's night we had a splendid festive meal together, but before the evening was out, kidney stone pains had started up with unusual ferocity. By midnight I was vomiting, and by 1.30 in the morning, I was on my way to A&E in Warwick hospital, as there were no pain killers in the house. Fortunately the calm and cheery staff were able to bring things under control, and were comfortable with the idea of releasing me to return to bed at home, having been made aware that I'm due for more scans and treatment next week. We were back in Kenilworth by 4.30am, and I was able to get some sleep without the analgaesic wearing off.

An early morning X-ray had shown no new stone, and the existing one is hiding out of x-ray range. The radiologist had said that they'd only recently acquired digital x-ray equipment, years after the building of the new hospital facility, and that it would soon have to be replaced as it was't the right kind. He also said they didn't yet have the facility to send an image file electronically to the UHW database server. I was nevertheless surprised at how quickly my personal details had been retrieved from the big GP database once they had my name and date of birth. Some things work, others don't.

When we'd all recovered from our disturbed night, Clare and I decided to return to Cardiff, to be within easy reach of UHW Heath, just in case. There's been no return of the really severe pain since then, just a dull ache, surivivable with the occasional anti infammatory, rather than the really aggressive crisis management analgaesic offered by A&E. But, it's left me groggy and in need of lots of sleep, as if I've been beaten up. So I won't be doing too much for the next few days until I can get to see my GP, and have that long awaited CT scan to find out what's left of the stone supposed to be part-blocking the duct from kidney to bladder.

Christmas Sunday

Christmas night, feeling no longer feverish, and having nothing better to do, I ventured to watch TV for the first time in a while. I find TV saps far more energy than Radio and only when I'm well rested can I give it attention for anything more than the length of the news. Having only heard the hype and seen the merchandise for 'Pirates of the Caribbean', I thought it might be suitable light entertainment. Well, it wasn't. I'm amazed that a Disney badged product can project as hero a character who is arbitrary, self-centred, amoral without conscience, vain and camp. Is the stuff of family entertainment? Propaganda for all the worst of vices. And, of course violent, playing to the theme of redemption by violence. Waste of an evening. I should have just gone to sleep early.

Yesterday was another day of letting nature take its course, and enjoying the best of Radio 4. There was an outstanding afternoon play "Tom and Viv", by Michael Hastings about the tragic and tortured marriage of poet T.S. Eliot to a woman with bi-polar disorder. The intense dialogue revealed skilfully just how impossible a relationship can become in the face of this mental illness, whose diagnosis and treatment was far from adequate until the late twentieth century. I was a bit surprised that the broadcast didn't conclude with that characteristically bland Public Service announcement "If you have been affected by any of the issues raised by this play, please contact this number..." But then it is Christmas. I hope it gets repeated.

Today, I was relieved to feel well enough to get up and go to church, although the virus is far from defeated - it's one of the strains which recur when you think they're done. I just caught the end of Clive James' masterly 'Point of View' essays before the nine o'clock news. It was a wonderful testimony to Jesus, from a self-confessed atheist and unbeliever, considerate and insightful. We heard the whole thing on iPlayer when we got back from church, and I read the text - what a marvellous information service the BBC provides. It deserves much reflection. His account of the rise of humanism and the decline of belief in the afterlife was interesting, if flawed but his account of the centrality of Christ for all humankind is impressive. It shows how a deep thinking secular man engages in wrestling with the question first posed by St Mark in his Gospel: 'Who is this man?'

It was good to return to leading worship once more. Everyone was so kind and understanding, also proud of having continued to offer worship and welcome people without their priest. All I could say was how much I appreciated being part of them. We came home, and Clare prepared a special Christmas dinner for me, with turkey leftovers from Kenilworth. Owain came over and joined us. A very special moment to savour. Then, it was back to church for a wedding rehearsal in preparation for a lunchtime ceremony tomorrow. After that, I was ready to curl up quietly for the rest of the day and continue with the recovery process.

Boxing Day already

Christmas Day in all its manifestations was for me a non-event, just a matter of lying there and enduring, letting my body fight the battle against the virus, rather than my ego. I just had to accept that if I'm too sick to walk without stumbling, with my voice reduced to a feeble croak, there was nothing to do but accept the situation and trust the St John's community to deal with a 'no-priest' crisis on one of the year's holiest nights and days. Too late to call upon clerical reserves - what reserves? We're in the middle of 'down-sizing'. It will only get worse. Only churches which understand the priestly nature of their faith-community - being a people who hold themselves before God in prayer for and with others. They just know what to do at the right time. So, I'm confident the remaining services all went off well, and look forward to the detailed reports. I'm reminded of the RC liturgical folk hymn of the '70s which starts

'In this sacred mystery, we praise the Lord of history
in the Eucharistic feast, we all are priests'

Being too woozy of brain to read the Divine Offices of the day since Tuesday (a feast of lovely poetic texts at this time of year), I found that not too many other words of prayer came to mind as a substitute. But, I had plenty of silence and solitude in my quarantine, and the consolation of wan sunlight bathing the peaceful Square outside with bright patches and long tree trunk shadows. All I could do was continue to entrust myself to the Divine Life at work as ever and be patient.

Just writing this reminds me of Celandine, my lovely godmother, whose anniversary falls just now. One of the treasures she shared with me in her last year was the poem which St Teresa of Avila had inscribed in her breviary. Celandine had found it on a bookmark and treasured these words, occasionally writing them on the back of a Christmas card to encourage me when she sensed from my Christmas missive that I was finding things a bit tough. Longfellow's translation from the Spanish runs

Let nothing disturb thee,
Nothing affright thee
All things are passing;
God never changeth;
Patient endurance
Attaineth to all things;
Who God possesseth
In nothing is wanting;
Alone God sufficeth.

It doesn't take much to point people back to God. It's amazing how few get around to it, even those with faith. I was most privileged to have her to remember, on this day when we say 'heaven and earth are one in rejoicing'.

Enough. Time to rest.

O Emmanuel

Two rather unpleasant fluey days have passed in rest and quietness, with only small improvement to show for it. I've to cancel my plans to take communion out to Hilda, Angela and Peggy tomorrow, also the early evening Eucharist at school. I've also postponed a wedding rehearsal until Sunday, leaving me with just three big services to survive. That will be possible because of the help and support of regular ministry team members. The individual communion are less easy to arrange cover for at short notice, but at least I can get messages to the people concerned. It just remains to be seen how much voice I have tomorrow - all the more reason to be sure to pick up re-chargeable batteries and get them 'cooked' in good time.

Today's news reports that reported incidences of 'flu are up 75% on last year, first jump in 8 years. Not epidemic, but the pundits say we're overdue for a pandemic, and that global warming is one of the cocktail of factors that will make this inevitable. With more than half the world's population living in crowded urban conditions, poor and rich alike will be caught up in a pandemic almost as quick as the news spreads around the world - because of our high speed mass mobility. How much we all love our jaunts by 'plane to far-off places. Yet, this adds to global warming as it does to disease transmission. It's like we're sleepwalking to our doom.

Aleem Maqbool has been spending the past ten days walking from Nazareth to Bethlehem in the steps of Mary and Joseph, with a succession of donkeys - it's recommended reading on Palestine and Israel from the inside by an outsider documented on the BBC website. Aleem is a Brit. Muslim? Not sure. He hasn't really declared himself, which is probably just as well, as his blog, pictures and video footage are there for every nutter or both sides to view. So far the Israeli security forces have looked after him, albeit with a degree of curiosity about his mission, and he is telling stories from every angle, either side of the security divide. It's been a journey through lonely difficult places with encounters on the way, before arriving at the commercialised heart of it all. Where's Emmannuel now? We may well wonder. Still in the quiet and lonely places, still ready to welcome those whose hearts are open, and ready to receive power to become God's children, born of the Spirit. Everything else changes, but this much doesn't.

O lurgi horribilis

It's not one of the antiphons of the week before Christmas, but a not uncommon experience about this time of year - 'flu, cold, bronchitis. I don't get sick all that often but when I go down, I go down hard. It started in the night, and I managed to get through till lunchtime, then went to bed for the afternoon, cancelled the school service and went in for the nine lessons and carols service, knowing that I could just about cope with the few things I had to do with my voice rapidly becoming inaudible. It would just be tonight that the wireless microphone batteries delivered less and less of anything audible to add to the situation. Time to buy some new re-chargeables.

I've got two days to get over this, then it's Christmas Eve. Not sure that I'll re-charge in two days. This is what I hate about working on my own - nobody to hand over to quietly and smoothly if anything goes wrong, just a lot of fuss and inconvenience for others having to arrange last minute cover, already an increasingly difficult thing to do with months of notice.

The new baby Jesus has survived so far. The figure has a black face and swaddling clothes that resemble an old romper suit. An image of a poor child. Just think, if there was another outrage, one could add race hatred to religious hatred as charges against the perpetrator. By the time the investigating officer contacted me about the first assault, the second had occurred. At least I had the pleasure of delivering the 'evidence' of the bottle and can thrown into the stable on the two different occasions, along with my own photos. Just to let them know that we take these things seriously even if they don't. The CCTV camera 50 feet from the scene is steadfastly pointed down Trinity Street away from where evidence might have been gathered.

O Radix Jesse

Yesterday started well enough with both Fr Roy Doxsey and I arriving at Tredegarville school in plenty of time to set things up for the end of term school Eucharist. It was when we took out places at the altar to begin the service in fron of the assembled school that things unravelled. I'd sent the order of service to school for photocopying in an emailed .pdf file as I have done many times before. This time, however, it had been incorrectly photocopied and the pages were so much out of order that it was un-followable, and this threw us both. It took what seemee like an age, probably ten minutes to reduce two copies to single pages, number and staple them back together in order to obtain one fair copy for Roy to lead the service from.

Meanwhile, the children and staff were wonderful, and some children sang nicely until we were sorted. The moral of the story is - always be sure to deliver a hard copy well in advance, with full copying instructions appended, or risk the worst. Everything went smoothly once we were ready. Staff and children know most of the texts used off by heart anyway, but the leadership needed to be fully in control of the ordering of components or everything falls apart. As clergy we use a lot of familiar texts, and even the seasonal texts are hardly unfamiliar, but when combined into a special service, there has to be a clear navigational map or else ... ! It sheds a new light on why God's first creative act in the first chapter of Genesis is to bring order to the watery chaos.

Much chastened by the experience, I went on from school to St John's for the noon Eucharist, followed by the 'quiet' wedding of a couple, new to Cardiff, and without any friends or family in their adopted city to support them, apart from their toddler son. The groom was from the Caribbean and the bride from Eastern Europe. I arranged for a couple of members of the church congregation to act as witnesses. Another couple of members also attended. Pauline hunted down a bottle of bubbly and some goodies, so that we could toast their health after the service. They were not expecting this and were a little overwhelmed at the unsolicited attention. For them getting married was a time commitment that had to be inserted into their busy business day, processing internet sale orders. They are working hard together to make a new life, and marriage was a part of this endeavour for them. A brave move. And we wanted to encourage them, be their church substitute family. It just seemed so natural to those who rallied around. I felt very proud of our 'little flock'.

The BBC rang up and asked for a brief interview for their tea-time radio programme. They had a reporter with portable studio gear plugged into the landline they installed decades ago in one of the small churchyard enclosures at the east end. I found him standing in the enclosure, furnished with a brolly in case it rained, feeding live interviews occasionally into the studio. Nick, the chair of Cardiff Licensed Victuallers Association was about to be interviewed when I arrived to check things out. Like so many others, he expressed his sympathy and concern about the crib vandalism. This, and the ransacking of Santa's Grotto on Churchill Way on Wednesday night has touched a raw nerve. Mothers at school this morning were talking about their childrens' dissappointment at the prospect of not seeing Santa. Happily, all those involved in running the Grotto succeeded in getting things up and running again the following day. The good news takes longer to percolate through however, because of the emotional fog raised by the bad news.

Both these assaults on places in the public realm were aimed at things concerning the world of the child. Whoever the culprits are, their actions were calculated to cause outrage and reveals something about them. Anyone whose actions threaten, injure or deprive children, whether in the real or virtual worlds - destroying images of childhood is akin to destructive effect of images of children being abused - is projecting their own experience of childhood suffering on to others. They must be stopped. They also need help.

After my brief interview, I returned home for supper. I was pleased to discover the the switch from Tesco to Talktalk broadband had gone seamlessly, and that I now have a faster service for less total outlay. The only thing I am not impressed with is the alliance of Talk Talk with AOL for webmail services, with its busy crowded inelegant home page, and inability to download mail to my third party email client, Thunderbird. Helpful instructions to download mail using Outlook Express are provided, but the forums carry complaints that this only works inconsistently, which ties one to webmail and the constant nagging and flashing of adverts and superfluous news bytes accompanying. No doubt, this subsidises the cost of the service. It's a service I can do without. I'll stick with Google Mail, which doesn't flash at you and is nag free.

At ten o'clock, I went back into the drizzle soaked city centre to see how Black Friday was working out for the police and ambulance services. " 'PC rain' is on our team tonight" said Inspector Tony Bishop, grinning broadly when I passed him on the Kingsway. Queues outside clubs seemed to be quite short, and there were few outdoor drinkers. Those standing in the damp were either queuing for taxis or puffing at cigarettes. There were lots of police and their vehicles in evidence, and several ambulances on standby. I was impressed at the fiery demeanour of a diminutive young Woman Police Officer, who charged across the road shouting a 'cease and desist' order at a man who had unzipped his flies in order to urinate in a doorway. He was a good head taller than her, and standing two steps above her at the time. His compliance was meek and hurried. There were too many other policemen standing within earshot, watching, to plead his incontinence.

The St John's Ambulance HQ under the Stadium was not especially busy, so the atmosphere was relaxed and cordial. I was greeted like one of the family, undeservingly - I don't give nearly enough quality time to supporting the first aid teams. They are a marvellous bunch, and so good with people and their ailments, injuries, for the most part alcohol related on a night like this. People in fights, people poisoned by the sheer volume of drinks consumed, losing control of all bodily functions, as someone so dryly puts it while mopping up. One of the ambulance teams coming in from St Mary Street for a cuppa said that there were already queues outside A&E up at the Heath Hospital - presumably from those around the city making their own ways there.

It was quarter to one when I finally wound my way home through streets. Pubs were closed and cleaning up, but the clubs were still going strong. The hour after they close, things will get busy again and the casualties surge. Gaggles of men or women were wandering between venues. A notable number of them were in sodden Santa outfits. Most guys were in shirt sleeves, and the girls bulging out of standard skimpy attire. Superman was on his mobile in a shop doorway, and a legionary strode passed me as I went into Greyfriars. One of the big selling fashion outlets was brightly lit up and taking deliveries from a huge van. In front of an empty shop next door, a team were doling out soup and sympathy to passers by. A down and out with a dog was stationed in close proximity to Lloyds' cash machines, taking advantage of the fact that the police presence was focussed a few blocks away.

Another night of 'leisure' in the life of a city.

O Adonai

I arrived at church for the Eucharist this morning to discover that baby Jesus was missing from his bed of straw in the outdoor nativity scene. No further damage done, but an empty Carling can was parked carefully at the feet of one of the Kings - another message of contempt from the worshippers of alcoholic excess who are allowed to rule our city's streets at night.

During my commute to Kenilworth I heard a radio programme about a Scottish experiment in selected cities which monitored weekend crime before during and after a period in which the sale of alcohol in all local retail outlets was restricted to over 21's Friday and Saturday nights between 5.00 and 10.00pm. There was apparently a very significant drop in alcohol related youth crime during the ban. More permanent measures along these lines are now being contemplated by the Scottish government. Is this anti-youth? Well, it appears that alcohol related crime is disproportionately high among young people, over and above under-aged drinking. It's only a minority who behave like this, but they have significant impact. They behave like this because they are suffering, often from a lack of healthy family support, suffering from the spiritual vacuum created by a world in which consumerism and materialism dominate. Loneliness, low self esteem, lack of interest and appreciation shown by elders towards the younger. - how easy it is to fall back on alcohol or drugs as the only reliable remedy for the aching void within.

It's black Friday tomorrow. The Friday before Christmas. Office and works parties all across town, thousands drinking to excess, going wild, being sick or misbehaving. It only remains to be seen whether the credit crunch tempers booze spending, or whether it's business as usual.

O Sapientia

I took time out yesterday evening to go up to Kenilworth and watch my grand daughter Rhiannon take part in the Reception Class nativity pageant, dressed as an angel this morning. The Parish primary school is the nearest school, just a short walk from where they live. My daughter Kath remarked how glad she was that Rhiannon had been able to get a place there, and experience the church's story telling as part of their learning. Rhiannon's friends in state schools don't have nativity plays or carol services like this.

It was an enchanting experience, worth the journey - both ways in the dark, but it was just slightly strange to me, as the children in a middle England middle class church school are less diverse than those in our Tredegarville church school - not a hijab in sight. Having worked in multi-racial and inter-faith settings for thirty five years, this is what I'm used to and take great delight in. The standards of teaching and pastoral care are similar in both schools, thankfully. But, there's something special about children growing up in an environment where experience of the world outside the local community starts, not on the classroom walls, but in the faces at desks around you.

There's no doubt that it can be challenging and difficult teaching children to live together with their differences, especially where one of the key differences is the deprivation some experience, where others don't. How good it is that there are so many church schools, well placed in multi-cultural settings, to be at the forefront of building community in diversity, open to the world. In a way that's what the catholicity of the church is all about in real practice.

At church on the street

After the main Eucharist this morning, at which Ben preached his second sermon, creditably, there was a hundred strong gathering of worshippers from the City Temple outside St John's in Working Street. They'd decided to hold their main service outdoors among the shoppers as an act of public witness, and had obtained official permission to do so. The occasion was just right, as the sky was blue and the sun shining brightly in the still crisp late morning air.

We arranged for them to have a power supply form the church boiler house for a keyboard and public address system, and this worked well without being overbearing and intrusive. Musical accompaniment was jazzy and the carols went with a swing. Stewards distributed carol leaflets, and gave out little chocolates to passers by, sharing the good hearted cheer. It introduced an element joy and festivity to the streets, as they grew busier with the arrival of shoppers.

Ben and I went out and joined them, when we'd finished in church. It was interesting the see the mixture of reactions from passers by - from joining in, to outright rejection and annoyance. The 'animation' of the event was affirmative, full of genuine confidence, nothing tentative about it. It included a gritty testimony from a converted ex-drug addict. I felt they succeeded in addressing ordinary people with tone of the event, demonstrating that living a committed Christian life does make a difference. Chatting with their leaders afterwards, happy at the turnout and the way it had been received, I discovered that going on the streets en masse was something they did rarely. I'd like to think that they were encouraged by this initiative to repeat the event.

There was no doubt that this community was there promoting the blessings of a life of Christian faith for ordinary people. It was so different from every other kind of promotional activity that is hosted by the city centre streets - driven by the heart, rather than by the bottom line of the balance sheet.

In the later services of the day I got to re-read the Bishops' Advent Three letter appealing for vocations to Ministry and support for training. It was also striving to motivate members to recognise what vocation is all about - but it was all aimed at the intellect - you could say that it's what we Anglicans do best. But does it have to be the only thing? Would that we were as good at telling inspiring stories of faith as our pentecostal neighbours!

Repeat performance

Tesco has been 'upgrading' its services - or so we were told at the end of last month. What this has meant in practice is unreliable, intermittent broadband access, particularly poor often non-existent in the evenings. It's felt more like down-grading, which is perhaps more a reflection of my impatience with something I rely on for easy communications. After a week, sheer frustration convinced me to finally make the effort to ditch Tesco and switch to free broadband with my Talk Talk phone account. What will I do if that turns out to be just as unreliable? All these marketed services make inflated claims for themselves. It's a matter of finding out which has the least disparity between promise and delivery.

Talking of communication, the BBC website yesterday reported that Archbishop Rowan was to be the guest of Solace pub church late Saturday morning, talking about God, just 200 yards around the corner from St John's. It was the first I'd heard of it. Managing media expectations of church leaders these days seems to take priority over ensuring that local followers know and understand what's going on. This makes it hard to give a helpful account to anyone asking about something happening in their own vicinity. It confines everyone apart from the 'in-crowd' to being passive consumers of church 'news'. It's the second time in two years that I've learned about Rowan's pastoral activities in 'my patch' from public media sources. As one of the faithful said with familiar resignation : "Just typical isn't it?"

Archbishop Barry is not obliged to tell me when he's working on 'my patch'. First and foremost, it's his patch. I'm licensed to share his 'cure of souls' where I am placed. However, it would just be nice to know, personally rather than from public propaganda machines when something involving any prominent church leader is happening on the doorstep. It's less embarrassing than having to say "I didn't know..." and sounding like an idiot to those who don't really know what the church is like. My seventy six year old sister said she was shocked to learn that I too had found out about this visit from the BBC. It's not how she thought church operated.

When I talk about 'my patch', I acknowledge such a notion has lost meaning today, despite clerics with eclectic congregations who still speak as if one can consider oneself has having pastoral responsibility towards everyone who lives in 'your parish', whether they accept it, like it or not. It doesn't work like that. We can only serve those who will gather with us, and minister to those who accept what we offer.

The Bishop licenses a cleric to be his representative and delegate in a geographical area. This has definitive clarity in relation to anything involving legislation - the cleric's role as Officiating Minister at weddings of anyone living in the parish, or managing churches and churchyards. No cleric can oblige parishioners to attend their Parish church for worship. The faithful are free to choose where and how they will exercise their allegiance.

However, there remains in Anglican pastoral ministry tradition a strong sense of place, of a cleric being planted sin a place with a duty to serve community building in all its forms, to know and be known by people as a familiar point of reference, as someone knowing the history, remembering the stories, people and events that have shaped the place and its personality. At one time the local police constable, the schoolmaster, the GP, the chemist and the postmaster fulfilled a similar role and were part of what bound community together. Nowadays, most of these professionals on whom community cohesion relies don't live where they work, and move jobs more often. Clergy move more frequently, and serve clientele from far and wide, but still feel a sense of ownership in relation to affairs in the area where they are based. What good does it serve the church, to leave locals committed to a place out of the information loop on special occasion involving our leaders?

Living alongside each other, knowing and being known over long periods of time builds community, builds church from bottom to top. We have to work at this, be aware of and uphold all new community and faith building initiatives in every context. Good for Rowan, for taking an interest in Cardiff's pub church. But not so good that it's packaged by his entourage in ways that fail to take into account the rest of the faithful out there on the ground, striving to maintain the witness to God in the same area. It's not much of a way to unite the church behind the successors of the Apostles.

'Then the poor man came in sight ..'

This morning before the Eucharist thirty children from Tredegarville school came over and sang carols in the churchyard, much to the pleasure of people passing in the streets or entering the church. It was a cold and damp morning, though not as cold as the same occasion last year, as I recall. It took the opportunity to take some video footage, including a 'Wish you a merry Christmas' greeting to add to the collection I'm now posting on Google video. I've done an easy access web-page of links to the videos.

Raymond appeared in the Tea Room first thing, looking ill and smelling incontinent. He'd been absent since last Friday, save for a brief appearance on Tuesday. Last Friday he was also feeling ill and I urged him to go to hospital, and seek treatment. On Tuesday he said he'd quit hospital out at Llandough "sick of lying about waiting for something to be done" as he put it. In reality, he was penniless and took a taxi into town to pick up his weekly over the counter benefit payment from the DHSS. With nothing to pay for his ride, the driver had taken him to Central Police Station, which somehow dealt with it without locking him up.

On Tuesday he was shorn of his top coat and not carrying his usual bag, suggesting that he had walked out of hospital without discharging himself. Tuesday and Wednesday were so cold, I wondered what had happened to him. He was kitted out as usual this morning, suggesting he had returned to pick up his belongings and discharge himself, but after a night back in Tresillian House he was evidently worse for wear. He's a quiet surreptitious spirits drinker, who doesn't eat properly and is making himself sicker and sicker. He has a damaged knee which may need surgery and refuses to let this be treated if it involves anaesthetics, of which he has an instinctive fear, and flees whenever this is proposed to him.

I spent half an hour with him, again urging him to go back and get treatment. He's a man who only bows to extreme necessity. He said next Friday is his 60th birthday and invited me to the Prince of Wales pub for a drink. I wonder if he will make it. He is sick, needy, and stubbornly determined to live his meagre existence on his own terms. He can be shrewd and even smart playing the system on times, but is otherwise his own worst enemy.

How would I be, if I was in his situation, with so much sadness and betrayal underlying his air of resignation and quiet despair?

Community bonding

It was such a pleasure to pop into Tredegarville School this morning to see part of the Infants nativity presentation, with lots of singing, dressing up and jigging about. The kids just looked so happy and natural to be up on stage in such a playful mood together. It says a great deal for their teachers that 4-5 year olds are so secure and confident, especially when some of them have a great deal of difficulty settling into school, from home backgrounds which are not quite to secure and confident.

Pedagogy increasingly has to compensate for poor parenting, and grasping the need to do this on the part of schools is indeed laudable and makes teaching so much more demanding. What will improve matters greatly will be the extension of community social education facilities in and around the school. Language and parenting classes for adults are vital add-ons in many urban schools. This stretches the physicial resources of the school to the limit. However, it looks as if the school will be able to make a deal that will release the now empty caretakers house on site for development as a community educational centre on-site, using Communities First Funding. he plan is in its early stages, but to a hard pressed and crowded school team, there is light on the horizon after a long wait.

We had over 250 people in church for a carol service this evening, the second time this week. Tonight it was the turn of the Priory of St John Ambulance to welcome friends and members. It got off to a somewhat shaky start, as the Prior and one other named as lesson readers were disappointingly absent, the chief executive was home with 'flu, and Wyn Owen our star tenor soloist sent his apologies - not voiceless, but with a broken arm after a fall, since his appearance at the GTH concert last week. He was replaced by a young operatic soprano, with a fine voice who amonst other things sang Racine's 'O Holy Night' with the 'Cwm Ni' choir, much favoured on occasions like this with flawless beauty. It's the first time I've heard it sung other than by a tenor or baritone, and her singing made it very special. She was also quite modest about her considerable talent, so that I failed to register her name from the programme change announcements.

Also impressive was the childrens' choir from Garth Uchaf school, the second Welsh school choir to sing in St John's this week. The standard of both these groups, aged 6-11, was high, their behaviour and discipline impeccable, all of them a tribute to their parents, teachers, and the quality of education which is a much a hallmark of Welsh language medium schools as it is of church schools. It's the sacrificial commitment to give the very best to children, to show them what they can be and become, through praise, encouragement and much stretching, which admits no room to time-serving place-holders in the world of pedagogy. Long may they continue to be exemplary to the wider world of secular state education.

Despite the setbacks, good will and humour from all the subsitutes meant that the evening turned out to be happy and successful, an important occasion for bonding amongst members and supporters of such a substantial organisation - and in many ways, that's what that counts.

Inter-faith report launched.

The Wales Inter-faith network launched its report on the Welsh scene - work funded by CDF, as was the Spiritual Capital research we did earlier in the year. The launch was held in the Senedd, with a lunch on the Lightship afterwards. I took Ben with me to give him the kind of experience of city ministry which he might not otherwise obtain elsewhere. We were welcomed by Mohammed Asgar AM, and Assembly Minister Brian Gibbons Spoke, as did Cardiff's Mayor, Kate Lloyd, and Robina Samuddin, an impressive young Muslim member of Cardiff Inter-faith.

I guess the purposes of such an occasion is to promote the value of building a community of understanding and interest between different faith communities and their members. That's a valid thing to do in its own right, as long as that's not seen as an end in itself. Faith communities all have important insights into life in the modern world drawn from the teaching and spirituality, and these need to be shared, not only among the religiously enquiring, but with all those who share in shaping the policies and directions civil society is taking into the future. Our local Spiritual Capital venture flagged this us, but simply hasn't been able to go far enough to sustain the process so far - but then I am very impatient, aware of how much I would like to have achieved by the time I retire in about eighteen months from now.

I would like to see faith communities in Cardiff and in wider Wales establishing new ways to express whatever consensus they can reach on tackling issues like climate change, poverty and deprivation (at home and abroad), and social inclusion (challenging racist, and anti-religious elements attempts to hi-jack the secular social agenda). The question of how to break new ground, when people involved seem to believe that enough is being done, is something of a preoccupation for me these days.