One of the more justified criticisms of Baptists is that as people who have a tendency towards biblioatry, we don't actually read much of the Bible in public worship.  Along with many of my minister friends and colleagues, I try to overcome that by ensuring that we get at least two reasonable chunks of Bible in every service.  This week we have six readings in six languages and next week, drum roll, fanfare, no less than fifteen!  Granted most are short and being used to make points about reading out of context, but it will be "loadsa Bible Sunday" that's for sure.

Yesterday's Bible study, excellently led by one of the group members, proved to be fascinating.

Here are just a few of the intriguing bits...

When we were asked to turn up the passage in Mark, two people already had their Bibles open at the Luke passage and one at the Matthew.  Each was sure theirs was the definitive version.  I don't think any of us had really noticed that this story in all three synoptics, which is intriguing given the subject matter and the style - the woman's story interrupting the Jairus story.  The differences between the three versions are very small, little redactive effort here, which is of itself intriguing, given the other differences we find between the three gospels.  So, an unlikely tale, told three times with minimal editing.

One of the things I shared with the group was about the time when I'd preached on this passage and noticed that the woman had been ill for twelve years, the whole life of Jairus' daughter, and of the significance of the girl being this age, on the brink of adulthood, physical and societal.  There was some debate about how literally we should take the figure of twelve, but I remain of the opinion that it is significant to the story - two separate life-stories meet for a moment in a Christ encounter.

The second, not dissimilar, observation was one I'd never spotted before.  The woman who silently approaches Jesus is commanded to reveal herself, whereas Jairus and Mrs Jairus are commanded to tell no-one (Mk5:43; Lk 8:56).  This is truly bizarre.  No one knew the woman was there and she could have slipped away silently (though of course had that been so we would not have her story) whereas loads of people knew Jairus' daughter was sick and dying, there was no way to hide the outcome.  There seems to be something here about bringing the hidden into the open and almost hiding the visible.

Having a very sick child was an acceptable, if unwelcome, situation; having some unspecified gynaecological condition wasn't (I did once speculate that this could have arisen postpartum, adding further poignancy to the stories). It did make me think again about which forms of disease are 'publicly accpetable' and which are not.  The study guide inevitably centred on things like HIV/AIDS but found myself wondering instead about mental health and addiction, which are very often 'hidden' illnesses.  The stereotype picture of the addict confessing his/her addiction to a support group has some echoes of the woman in the story, forced to say out loud 'it's me' as if the naming is essential to the cure.

We had some really good discussion yesterday, touching on some very tricky topics, such as the efforts made to keep alive very premature or sick babies who have no hope of independent living - i.e. they are unable to breath unaided and/or to to feed unaided - and what we mean by 'quality of life.'  We found no answers, but by naming the questions I think we achieved some good.

Today I've added a new 'fun stuff' link to Dave Walker's cartoon church blog.  It's one I have visited occasionally and it's always good fun, especially if you understand the weird machinations of the C of E.  Today's cartoon illustrates the one useful aspect of cassocks - loads of inner pockets to hide stuff.  Of course being a man-vicar dictates what the cartoon vicar keeps in said pockets - I'm sure woman-vicar would have a an insulated pocket for chocolate...

... or things best not said to your friend being treated for breast cancer.

"Grace-growers" is a phrase introduced to me by a minister friend to describe those people who, in other circles, would described as 'those who p*** me off.'  I think it can also be used for the thoughtless, if mostly well intentioned comments, people feel free to make; comments which to be fair are often an attempt at humour and/or to overcome their own sense of inadequacy.

Here are my "favourites"

• having commented that at least I didn't have to deal with the guilt that some life style choice had caused/contributed to my cancer, someone said "well you haven't had children".  So, never having met Mr Right, and having lived a good celibate Christian lifestyle as a factor in causing cancer.  Hmmm.  Interesting philosophy.  Should I be leading a youth group on sexual ethics in the future I'll remember this one!
• on having my head shaved two separate comments (i) "think of all the money you'll save on hairdressers" (er, no, having spent zilch in twenty years I'd had bills for almost £100 in three weeks - and that's with NHS Scotland paying the full cost of supplying the wig) (ii) "some people spend a fortune on electrolysis or waxing" (of their heads?!)
• when talking about hair regrowth, "ooh it might come back curly, I've always wanted curly hair" - yes, most chemo-ed hair does come back curly because the drugs damage the hair follicles (though ironically if it was curly the effect is often of straightening) however once the drugs clear your system and the hair follicles recover it usually returns to its 'normal' state.  Best not to assume our own hair fantasies are those of others - I always liked straight brown hair as it happens.
• on reconstruction or not, "no one will see anyway so why does it matter."  No comment.

Mostly people are amazingly insightful, and the faux pas are minor (and I can see people inwardly biting their tongues afterwards), so for a bit of balance here are some grace-filled observations

• "all that healthy living is really going to pay off now" - and so far it is.  Good general health and a broadly healthy lifestyle with regular, moderate exercise are all important factors in coping with the chemicals and surgery now and recovery afterwards.
• "I know it's not what you'd have chosen but you do look great" with a new hairstyle
• "That's funky" and "you have a great shaped head" about the shaved look (me and funky in the same sentence?!)
• "I want it" - the lovely gay guys who run the coffee shop opposite church about my sparkly headscarf

Please don't think I'm getting at you if you've said or thought any of the first set of comments (None of my known readers have) and I'm sure I'vw said and done some dumb things myself when I've been supporting friends or "parishioners" with cancer.  I am learning graciousness, which is a good thing.  And most of the unfortunate comments tend to grate more than wound, and I can see that many are an attempt to be humorous or light-hearted.  At some point I may reflect a bit more on the role of humour and what makes it funny or not (people with disability offer some great insights on this) but for now, I'll try to grow a litlte more grace.

It's just lovely in Glasgow this morning, and I'm pausing to savour the moment.

The grass sparkles with white frost.

The sky is a clear pale blue.

From my front windows, the Campsie Fells are seen in full relief beyond the skyline of the city.

And from the rear the south side glistens in the morning sun.

Clouds of chilled breath rise from pedestrians and motorists scrape windscreens.

The trees in red-gold-green-yellow-brown array defy the inevitable one day more

Children trail to school and parents chivvy them onwards.

On a morning like this

There are dances to be danced

Songs to be sung

And a creator to be praised.