A Skinny Fairtrade Latte in the Food Court of Life

I don't know why. but for some reason yesterday I found myself recalling a rather daft game we used to play at work about 10 yeasr ago, and wondering if it could be applied to churches...

It was the Native American Name Game - probably totally non-PC but it kept us amused in the more boring moments of daily life.  I suspect it emerged fromthe title of the film Dances with Wolves becuase it involved identfying a verb and an object associated with individuls.

For example, one of my colleagues was a bit of an exercise junkie and went to the gym every lunchtime.  He also brought a carrot in his packed lunch every day.  So he became Exercises with a Carrot.

Another colleague was a heavy smoker and had an inflatable Mr Blobby as a kind of mascot, so he was Smokes with Mr Blobby.

They never told me what they named me, but perhaps these days it'd be Blogs with a Mug of Tea (since despite the title of this blog I'm more of a tea drinker and there's usually a half drunk mug sitting in my office).

For another, unexplained, reason I found myself thinking about churches mission statements and one I came across several years backthat said 'we seek to be purpose driven in a balance fashion.'  Sounds impressive but I'm not sure what it means!

Sohow about combining the name game with the church's statements?  What one verb and one object sum up a congregation?

"Recalls glory days with a green hymnbook?"

"Talks about mission with Powerpoint?"

"Prays with a cup of tea?"

"Seeks trade justice with kitkats?"

I'm not letting on which churches these might relate to but they are not totally imaginary.  As for dear old Dibley... "Keeps on keeping on with a mad woman minister" I suspect.

Check this out... where else could you have a degree in the things you surely ought to have learned at home?  And is there a parallel programme for men?  A degree in being a vicar's wife - now there's an idea (not)!

PS You may need to follow the threads on the Sheri Klouda situation to make full sense of this.

It seems to be the season of Quiz Farm quizzes again.  Which LOR character are you?  Which theologian are you?  Seemingly I am Galadriel and Moltmann - I'm happy with these.  So if I ever need an alias, this could make a rather impressive sounding name, don't you think?

Saturday's wedding is still being talked about, it seems, all positive, all we we dared to dream of.  The key word seems to be 'inclusivity' - not compromise to some kind of lowest common denominator mush, but authentic and inclusive.  If you fancy taking a peek at some of the photos, then check out the photographer's blog here .

Today's funeral went well too.  The family were happy with what was offered (and someone told me I have a nice singing voice - wish my old music teachers could hear that one!!  Useful for singing funeral solos, I find) and it felt a 'together' kind of service - as in no great big gaps between the family and the other people who came.  So often funerals see a handful of mourners then several empty rows, which to me seems to say something about fear and isolation.

As my week nears its end - and weekend brings its own challenges of politics over which special services to attend - I have a sense that this week some things have been got right, that we have shown people a glimpse of the God who is Love, Mercy and Grace.  In the midst of all the pain and suffering that news reports announce hourly, it is good to catch a glimpse of God's glory, to trace the rainbow through the rain, to know that there is a hope for all eternity.

Still thinking about funerals!

Is it me, or do undertakers see ministers as a nuisance in the whole proceedings?  Of the three local undertakers, two will phone me up having already booked a crematorium slot and if I'm not free will move on to the next person on their list.  They seem to assume crem. funerals as normative even for church people, and arrange timings without any consulation, so that they can, in my cynical view, get more funerals into a day.

Today's is a fairly typical example - service 11 a.m. interrment 11:30.  It takes around 10 minutes at hearse speed to get from the church to the cemetry, not counting the time to get everyone out of church and the hearse and cars loaded up.  Counting back, that means 15 minutes for the service, 20 if I'm lucky.  But they won't arrive until exactly 11 a.m. and it'll take at least 5 minutes to get them in...

If I get a church and crem funeral, they usually fix the two an hour apart.  This is tight as, at hearse speed, it's around 20 minutes to the nearest crem.  Granted, the committal only takes a few minutes, so arriving a little late is not a big issue, but even so, there is no room for error.

Probably the least bad - the undertakers preferred option - is crem only.  No room for overrun, clear start and end times... easy.

It really annoys and saddens me that the business of death has become so clinical and cynical.  On the one hand, many families want it all over as quickly as possible because it isn't very nice having to face up to the loss.  On the other, for undertakers the bottom line drives the proceedings.  A good funeral is one that gives space to grieve and time to reflect, that isn't on a conveyor belt (beyond the inevitability at the crem) and is an authentic response to bereavement.

Remind me, when I update my will, to include some very precise funeral arrangements, which will not fit into 20 minutes at church with a scramble to the crem as dictiated by some firm of undertakers.

PS I must write out a hundred lines 'It is crematorium not crem' as I recently got into trouble at church for saying crem

Today I have a funeral at D+1, a person whose connection to that church is so vague that no one remembers her.  Her daughter is convinced that her mother went there as a child, and has asked for three hymns (all long, I've missed out a few verses here and there) to be included in the service which, if the undetaker gets their way (they won't) could only be a maximum of 20 minutes.  Fortunately overruns won't be major a problem because this is a burial - in Dibley Municipal Cemetery (not that they lived anywhere near ...) and I am relieved that the early morning mist has just about cleared - a foggy burial would have a rather ethereal or even spooky feel to it, which, given the level of superstition around here would probably be judged highly significant.

What has really struck me about this, as many other funerals I've done in this area, is how little biographical information the family actually knew.  They did not know how many siblings there had been, any stories of how the parents met, nothing about where she had worked or what her interests had been.  This is the more sad, as they anticipate around 40 relatives coming to the funeral - there is a large extended family of cousins etc.

Most of us don't do anything terribly spectacular with our lives, and it is good to celebrate the simple roles of homemakers and child nurturers.  I just find it rather sad that the dreams and aspirations, the perosnal triumphs and joys are lost forever.  Further, it puzzles me - my own, quite large, family is not very close, yet we do know a lot about each other's lives, interests and aspirations.  Deciding what to exclude would be difficult for our family, unlike my common experience of trying to think of creative ways of saying someone spent their life cooking and cleaning.

There are, I guess, two sources of consolation in all this.  Firstly, careful listening to what the family recall and share allows me to reflect the person they choose - and presumably need - to celebrate.  Secondly, even though so much is lost from human recollection, it is known unto God. 

For all the struggles I have in creating eulogies ex nihilo, I do find funerals to be rewarding experiences, a place in which in some small way the love, grace and mercy of God can be extended as people face the inevitability of mortality.

I pray that today the family will find the release they seek and the assurance that God is with them as they move on into their own future.

We have an unwritten 'rule' in my church when it comes to Bible readings - I tell people that if they are unsure how to say someone's name just say "Sausages."  People generally get the drift that what I'm saying is that it doesn't matter if they get the name wrong, and one person did once refer to King Sausages in an OT reading without anyone (apart from me) spotting it.  Sorry, I know, I'm a terrible heretic.

Last Sunday I was asked about the pronunciation of the name of the prophet we were reading - is it 'a-back-ook' (stress on middle syllable) I was asked.  It took me a moment or two to realise they were refrring to Habakkuk.  In a couple of weeks we'll no doubt have Aggie - not someone's elderly aunt, but the prophet Haggai.  I never did Hebrew so my pronunciations of the names are those I've received over the years but I am guessing, that as with Greek 'H's (rough breathings) Hebrew 'H's matter.

I'm sure it isn't really that important, it just continually makes me smile that people who live in a place that begins with a letter H studiously do not sound it.

I think this is the season for back-handed compliments - as we all now know, my services can be strange but not boring, I don't look like a minister and I can be understood.

Today one person who comes to us about once a quarter, said I must have been reading her mind, because following the death last week of a friend of hers she had been pondering questions of suffering.  Another said, quote "God must have given you a bigger spade than he gave me, because you dig deeper."  Hmm, just means I can dig myself bigger holes I suspect!

Overall the service went well, and one or two people said it made them think (which was the idea!) which is more feedback in a week than I normally get in a year.  Perhaps people began to see that we need to break down the false division of church and world and allow our faith and lives to be more inegrated.  If so, praise God!

Just in from the wedding, having left long before it was due to end but having turned into a foal (I am a little hoarse, (groan!)) and having to get up and write intercessions tomorrow morning, it is almost time for bed.

The service went well - it was a happy service, and the sunshine made the Hollywood/Bollywood ending feasible.  I was surprised how many people made a point of saying they had enjoyed the service and how friendly and personal it had been.  It was lovely to look out on such a rainbow hued congregation, of all ages, gathered to share in this very special day.

There was tremendous attention to detail by the bride and groom and a lovely spread with everything from egg butties to vegetable biryani, quiche to samosas, couscous to coleslaw.  The disco began with the newly weds dancing to 'You say it best when you nothing at all' followed by some R&B before a slot of Bangra, the Beegees, Scissor Sisters and goodness knows what else (most of it was more my era than theirs!).

I have never seen a photographer take so many pictures - he had been snapping constantly for about 12 hours when I left!  I have never been photographed quite so many times when preaching before either!

I hope the event brought a smile to face the God, and I pray, as I did in the service, that the LORD will lift up his countenance upon G&V and give them peace, today and always.

Journalling is meant to be an ongoing thing, not something you do when your ideas are fully formed, when the books are read and reflected on - or so I've been told for the last umpteen years - they are a record of developing thought, unfinished, maybe unfinishable explorations, stuff and nonsense, profound insights and who knows what else.  All of which is by way of saying that I have read around 70 pages of the novel Gilead about which people are raving (in a positive sense) and wanted to record what I "think of it so far."

It is certainly a clever and intriguing novel, with no chapter breaks (yet, and a flick through pages suggests maybe one near the end) so it offers a different reading experience from the usual 'one chapter before bed' type of thing.  At the same time every now and then you get a larger gap between paragraphs and once in a while the *** that used to appear in 19th Century stuff.

Recently as part of preparation for a funeral I was lent a DVD recorded by the deceased to be played after his death.  The feel was very similar to what I have read so far of Gilead - one incident linked to another, seemingly unrelated, and then he returned to his thread.  I have noticed the same when I talk with older people who can talk for ages, going "all round Bill's mother's" before returning to complete an account of some utterly trivial incident.  If this is part of the author's aim, then she's done a good job - it certainly feels authentic.

Some people have said this the first 'Barthian novel.'  I don't know what they mean - in the style of? with theology of?  I know, because other people have quoted chunks of it, that Barth gets mentioned in the novel.  What I would say is that reading the novel, for me, feels a bit like reading Barth.  I like Barth - but (or because) it is demanding to read and although (or because) sometimes when I think I've understood him I realise I haven't.  I have to read him in English (I never learned German) and I usually read him out loud and quite fast because, for me, this brings out the energy of his arguments and makes his writing feel exciting (someone will no doubt tell me he spoke slowly and thoughtfully...).  Perhaps it's as well I live alone!!  Gilead I read silently, but find myself developing a mental southern drawl, which again somehow brings the words to life (I usually read in my own accent).

I don't know whether I'll conclude that this is a great novel, worthy of all the praise others heap upon it.  But I will continue to read it, to find out what it has to say and to allow it to make me think a bit.  After Mark Haddon's short sentences and punchy paragraphs (A Spot of Bother) it is a very different undertaking to read this novel - but that's no bad thing.

A last thought (for now) the title of the book reminded me of the old, and no longer used hymn "There is a balm in Gilead"

There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin sick soul

Sometimes I feel discouraged
And think my work's in vain
But then the holy spirit
Revives my soul again

If you can not preach
Like Peter
If you can not pray
Like Paul
You can tell the love of Jesus
And say, "he died for all

Whether this hymn was partly inspiration for the novel, I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised.