So, DPT year 2 is off and running - or toddling anyway - and it has been a long, intense few days.  Productive, at least in so far as I had a very helpful meeting with my supervisor, setting out an 'agenda' for the year ahead; enjoyable, in that it is good to catch up with people I know whether staff, students or friends from the 'real' world; mildly unsettling because the arrival of a massive first year cohort has radically altered the dynamic.

Arriving at the centre for the first day, we 'year twos' recalled our own uncertainty at the start of the process and were a little thrown when the new 'year ones' emerged from their first session looking way too confident, assured, and very noisy.  Huddling together for reassurance we found ourselves unsettled and developing toddler-like behaviours.  What had been a 'safe enough space' now felt threatening and we didn't much like it!  Well at least that's the impression I got.  Certainly we were glad to get our dedicated session today without any of the new students, rearranged the scattered tables so we could all sit together in one huddle and felt happier with life.

I am fascintated by this childish reaction.  I had really looked forward to meeting the new students, not in a superior 'I'm a big girl now' kind of a way but because I'd always enjoyed the experiences whilst I was a student, both of engineering and of theology.  Why now did I feel threatened by these new people?

As a few of us compared notes, it seemed that the new cohort were far more vocal than we had been, and they were possibly masking their own insecurity with posturing.  Their numbers include some who are evidently more dogmatically of given theogolical persuasions and who make bold pronouncements that our little group probably wouldn't - after all we have been critiqued as being very nice to each other to the expense of theological thinking.

Over coffee this morning I managed to chat to a small group of the first year students who looked tired and a tad shell-shocked.  Talking to some of us seemed to allow them to ask the questions they were too afraid to ask in the presence of their own, seemingly more confident colleagues.  The claim that we 'make it up as we go along' and 'don't know any theology either' seemed to reassure one or two.

None of this much helps me to work out quite why I feel like a two-year old rather than the 'adult' I usually am in such circumstances.  I know I wasn't alone in this feeling but it is rather bizarre!  I'm sure these new 'babies' our 'parents' have brought into the 'home' are very lovely and that in time we'll look back and laugh at how we felt this weekend, but for now perhaps we have to scream and shout the confusion we cannot yet articulate!

(Picture pinched from www.cartoonebooks.com)

Why is it that when you are on leave you wake up wide awake at 5 a.m. and then have to wait almost 3 hours for it to get light?  Ah well.  Nearly a week off this week (OWW preach on Sunday) during which I will finally get the bathroom painted (loud fanfare) and spend three days in Manchester at a DPT residential. In between times I am, hoping to get a bit of time just to 'be,' something I'm not too good at, but which I definitely need.  So it will be a little quieter in this bit of blogland.

Not a clue how to spell it, but it's a great word, and one some of my folk heard for the first time ever today when I used it in vestry prayers!  Thankfully, my prayer was answered and people seemed not to be too discombobulated by sitting cafe style.  But I was - before, during and after the event - by the hymn I'd selected to end the service.  BPW 308 'God is our strength and refuge.'  It sits there looking inncouous in the hymnbook, and the words, based on Psalm 46 are terrific.  The tune is well known, rousing, powerful and... well, here's the rub.... discombobulating.

The Dambuster's March - for many it conjures up images of torches played on tent ceilings and hands twisted to make goggles.  For others it speaks of triumphalist nationalism.  For some it speaks of heroism.  For some it speaks of the brutality of war and human inhumanity - dams breached and civilians drowned or made homeless, a nation crippled by ostensibly collateral damage.  I guess we all know the long term impact it had on Barnes Wallis.

I was uncomfortable (don't want to wear out the lovely titular word) singing these words to this tune at the end of our harvest service when we'd thought about the ongoing struggles in Indonesia.  And yet...

And yet, I think it was good to be disturbed, uncertain, troubled by what I was doing, because in some small measure it reflected the tensions that the psalm requires us to acknowledge.

I don't know why Richard Bewes chose to write his hymn to fit this tune.  Maybe he just liked it; maybe he thought it had potential beyond the confines of a war film; maybe, just maybe, he was playing with a bit of irony, reclamation or discombobulation of his own.  If anyone knows, I'd be delighted to learn the 'story behind the hymn.'  In the meantime, I live with the tensions and am glad that God is present within them.

Today I have a double dose of harvest festivals - or 'harvest vegetables' as they are known in my family because of what a five year-old Catriona allegedly said when she came home from school (can't recall it myself...).

This morning is GB 'parade' at D+2 where we are taking tins to give to the local 'food bank'.  In my role as 'Miss' I visited a supermarket to buy up large quantities of cheapy-creepy tins for the girls to give.  Many of our girls are from fairly poor families, if they come to church they won't have any tins to offer because their families need to put food on their own tables.  Part of me feels mean buying the budget brand stuff (though I lived on it for four years whilst I was in Manchester) because it seems to say to the recipients 'this is all you're worth'; on the other hand it does mean that each girl who turns up can offer at least one tin to the collection, giving her a bit of self worth.  It's a tricky one!

This afternoon at Dibley, I am giving every member of the church a plate of food and a leaflet with the 'stone soup' story to take away to make a simple meal for themselves and then inviting them to give to the BMS appeal what they might otherwise have spent.  Recent posts will make it clear that I, not the church, paid for these items - to give away church money, heaven forbid!  When I arrived here, we had the meagre harvest displays that so many churches muster by raiding their cupboards for short dated tins and bringing a few apples from the supermarket; after the service these were juggled round into gifts to our own 'over 60's' (so most people).  I was not sad when, after our building closed, this tradition died.  This afternoon we will sit 'cafe style' with no display apart from some Indonesian artefacts and be invited to consider our giving to help those whose lives are blighted by natural disasters.

I do find myself wondering about harvest these days.  When I read the OT accounts I wonder how we ended up with the tokenism that blights our worship these days.  Wouldn't it be great to bring a whole month's groceries and hand them over to the food bank, take up a large offering for BMS and then cook ourselves a good meal, share fellowship and laughter in God's presence and be aware of the inter-relatedness of all people -in Dibley or Indonesia?

"To give, and give, and give again, what God has given thee" - a line from an old hymn I learned as a child.  If we really did give like that this harvest, if I really did give like that, what a difference it would make.

Somewhere during my training as minister, I stopped using expressions such as 'the poor' or 'the blind' because it was made pretty clear to me that these people groups don't like to be so described.  Whilst even JC used such expressions ('the poor will always be with you'), I think there is a valid point to be made.  But it is amazing how often I hear or read references to 'definite article, adjective' and find myself wanting to say 'The deaf what?  Rabbit?' or 'The disabled what? Light switch?' (I've never liked the phrase 'disabled toilet' because I'd rather find one that was functional, but there you go).  I wouldn't like to be defined as part of 'the lefthanded' or 'the myopic' (both of which are true) - so why would anyone else?  I know I'm being pedantic, and I know some folk wouldn't know what an adjective was, let alone a definite article, but it doesn't take much effort to speak about 'people with disabilties' or 'deaf people' and it does remind us, importantly, of the fact that they, like we, are PEOPLE not objects.

Another rant over!!!!