It was a common, weak, joke when I was at 'vicar school'...

Question: what's the difference between a sermon and a homily?

Answer: About 15 minutes

One thing about using Zoom for services is that we have pared things back quite a bit - the feel of sitting at a screen with mics muted is very different from a Sunday when we are all in the same room, and brevity seems a good thing.

I am aiming for 5 - 7 minute 'reflections' - sermonettes, homilies, whatever they are called.  It's a new skill to learn, and a good one.  It forces me to focus on essentials and to move swiftly between general and specific.

My respect for those who are good are five minute homilies - on radio, in church, wherever - grows apace.  Anyone can waffle for 20 minutes, it takes real skill to say something in 5.

This week I have had virtual conversations with ministers all over the UK (and beyond) as we have tried to negotiate the new territory in which we find ourselves.  Some have eagerly engaged with new technology, some have felt overwhelmed, all have done their best to keep community, to be church.

I have found myself recalling the apocryphal tale of the dispirited minister who dreamed he (it was a he in those days!) was taken on a guided tour of heaven.  Finally they neared a room where he heard the most beautiful 'sung worship' ever.  Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he recalled the croaky voices of his congregation, the bum notes on the organ, his own stumbling prayers.  Quietly, the angel who was showing him round opened the door and led him inside... there they were, his own folk... He awoke reminded that what God hears and sees is not the fraility but the beautiful authenticity.

This week I have shared in stuff that was really slick and stuff that was really clunky.  I have seen ministers bragging how they will be doing X or Y, and ministers weeping because they can't do any of it.  It's uncharted territory (not an Exodus, not an Exile, let the reader understand) and we are doing our best.

When God's Sophia zooms her way over the world this Sunday, and returns home to God, the Trinity will dance for joy, because it is so very, very good.

This morning I went to the supermarket, the first time I had been to a shop for a week.  There is absolutely nothing unusual about that. But it was the first time since lock down.

It was a really positive experience.  The queue of people waiting to go in was short and well spaced.  The staff member on the door was friendly, polite and authoritative.  Most, though not all, people in the queue exchanged smiles and greetings, and I had a lovely distanced chat with with the woman two metres (and two minutes) ahead of me.

Once inside it was an intorvert's dream!  Most shelves were well stocked, with plenty of basics, so I was in and out within ten minutes having bought all I need for another full week, plus a couple of treats.  OK, I forgot to buy cheese, but I can live without that!

Like many others, my skin is paying the price for increased hand hygiene, and I wanted some lotion for that.  Not a huge choice - well not a choice actually, just good old E45.

That was a throw-back of almost a decade, as it was the one lotion I was allowed to use during my chemo.  It's good stuff but it doesn't smell all that nice.  Back then my sense of smell was practically non existent, and has never entirely recovered, but today I am really grateful for the smell of E45, for the awesome staff at Sainsbury's in Partick and for the fact that I was able to go there to shop.

As a church, we have a good friend who serves as a hospital chaplain, and who is very stretched right now.

A couple of days ago, she put out a request for wooden crosses that could be offered to sick or dying patients as a tangible expression of love, faith and hope in these strange times.

Today the palm crosses we cannot use, the 'stock' of holding crosses I keep for precisely this purpose, and my rosary will be picked up from the end of the path to our flats.

Please pray for R, and for all chaplains, in healthcare, hospice, prison, military, educational and workplace settings at this time.  And for those to whom these crosses - and a few cross-shaped cards and angels I am also sending - may be a comfort.

It's probably selfish, but the holding cross in the image is the one I have used for many years, and it, along with last year's palm cross, is staying put.

One of the house-warming gifts I was given a decade ago from friends who were, then in Dibley (now in Northumbria).  Beautiful words from the Northumbria community.