I am feeling puzzled - not that there's anything new there - about what to 'do' with Ruth when I preach on her in just over a week's time.  Thinking about Tamar and Rahab has already used ideas about God not being constrained by people's willingness or otherwise to get involved and about being on the margins of society.  Ruth does not necessarily offer me much new.  She is a foreigner (tick) a widow (tick) she acts not unlike a prostitute in going to the threshing floor (tick) she becomes an ancestor of Jesus (inevitable tick).

I have discovered that she is usuually preached on within Judaism as part of Shavuot (The Feast of Weeks/Pentecost) which combines harvest festival with the giving of Torah.  She is being preached by Christians using the RCL alongside Mark but I suspect playing second fiddle (don't tell the rampant feminists!).  But I am not too sure where to go with her!  I am tempted to get the whole story read out in lieu of a sermon and simply add a five minute reflection - but is that a cop out?

Do we go for 'Ruth & Boaz' a love story?  Do we go for 'Naomi & Ruth' a case study in inter-generational cross-cultural relationships?  Or what?  Ideas please!!!

No, nothing theological, just a burst water pipe in the road outside my house causing water to spray up out of the pavement. 

Severn Trent emergency people said they'd send someone to look at it within the next 24 hours and asked if it was a large or small leak!  The answer, of course, depends on your definition of large/small.  By domestic standards it was pretty big, by industrial standards - well perhaps not.  Still, at least I met new people who knocked on my door to ask if I knew about it!

Silly me, I thought we were short of water and needed to conserve it, not allow it to gush up through the path and be wasted for hours on end.  After around 8 hours it seems to have been sorted - but that's a heck of a lot of water wasted in the meantime.  In this meantime something like 2000 people in developing nations have died due to lack of access to clean water - sobering.

My Dad saw active service in the British army in World War II (he was a lot older than my Mum, though ironically nowadays would be a fairly typical age gap from me)

My Dad's brother was a conscientious objector and spent World War II in jail somewhere round Birmingham, and was employed painting camoflage for buildings.

My Mum's Mum was a Jew, and the family fled to Scotland at the outbreak of war, fearing for their safety.

In my time, I have worked on defence contracts in the submarine industry and also on contracts concerning public safety due to military installations.  One of my brothers served briefly in the army, the other for a while worked at Bletchley Park, now one is a police officer and the other works to upgrade signalling on the railways.

This year, a young lad who lived a few steets away was killed on active service in Iraq and several young men have died on the roads around here.

All of these factors shape my views on Remembrance Sunday.  I have long since come to recognise the bravery of my Dad in going to war and of his brother in taking a costly stand against it.  I recognise the courage of my grandparents - and their fear - and know that had no action been taken I would not be here to type this.  My time spent on defence work was done in good conscience, as what that to assess public safety, and neither without careful forethought.

I have from time to time been criticised for the decisions I've taken, because 'Christians don't' (or do), usually replying that I'd defend their right to disagree with me.

War is far from good, and violence rarely justifiable, but I at least have to accept there are no simple answers.  Intuitively I believe that the pen is mightier than the sword, theologically I assert that love is stronger than death, practically I live with the tension of being part of a disordered world where both sin and finitude impact our experience.

Today I will remember - and having remembered, will live.

This morning a small group of us met to plan the first ever Dibley Churches joint Christmas Carol Event.  Not the first ever joint carol serivce - years ago there was one but it died the death - but the first of the new-style extended events, based on what my lot did last year.  It was a great meeting, and 'A Cracking Christmas' will take place in Dibley on Sunday 17th December.

We will begin with a free tea for anything up to 100 wrinklies - two lunch clubs and three congregations worth - and then have a carol service which will include music from an Anglican organist, a Methodist worship group and an ad-hoc choir, three sketches, two poems, half a dozen Bible readings, a mini-talk by me and the distribution of a light bulb to everyone who attends (if you're a Baptist check out the latest BUGB magazine to see where we pinched this idea from; light bulbs can be bought in Sainsbury's (and I'm sure elsewhere) for 8p each!).  In parallel to the service there will crafts for children.  Afterwards there will be mince pies and drinks for - who knows, maybe 200 folk?

This is exciting and demanding, but it should be a crackin' good event.

This week we said 'farewell' to two members of our lunch club.  Peter and Sheila both died last week and their funerals occurred this week.  Each of them was a bit 'unlovely' and they had few friends but it had been a privilege to get to know them in the last year and to show them something of Christ's love.

Sheila had shared with us some of her worries about her family while Peter had finally learned to smile after a life time of disappointment and emotional pain.

I attended both funerals on behalf of the church and club - complete with dog-collar which clearly freaked out the humanist celebrant at Sheila's! 

Sheila had a very clear faith, having grown up in a Methodist Church in Norfolk and had had links with us on and off for many years, I felt sad for her that at the end no one (openly) commended her to the care of God and wondered at the theology of my silent words of commendation as the curtains closed!  Ah well, it made me feel better.

Peters' funeral was simple but beautiful, there was gentle honesty about a man whose life had seen countless disappointments and whose potential was never fulfilled.  The vicar and I had chatted in the minutes before the service and he managed to mention our lunch club as one of Peter's interests!  After the service the two of us from church (the only non family people there) were warmly greeted by his relatives, one even running after us to thank us for coming.  Peter was a lonely man, and it was good for both us and them to know that he was loved. 

How little we hear about church with the older generations, how fixated we become with programmes and projects.  This week I was reminded that part of my call/ministry is located in the practical words of Matthew 25 - in a new paraphrase 'I was unlovely and you came to my funeral'.

We commend Sheila and Peter to the mercy and grace of God in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life in Christ Jesus.  Amen.