As my sabbatical enters its final weeks, and as a few bits of preparatory stuff have to be picked up ready for my return to church, the emphasis shifts from doing and visiting to writing and reflecting.  The list of things I ought to be writing is rather long, but is also positive...

• a synopsis/proposal for a conference paper arising from my empirical research
• a short paper to feed into someone else's research into churches whose ministers have major health issues or worse
• a short paper (or two or three) for BUGB/BUS/BMJ* arising from my empirical research
• a short paper for the BUS on all my sabbatical reflections as they very kindly gave me/us a £400 grant towards costs.
• a short paper for church on the findings from my visits to Bath and London
• a short paper for church summarising all my sabbatical work

That's a lot of writing!  I think I have some useful 'findings' to share in various places, it's just that I have got out of the habit of sitting and writing anything very much, so I need to give myself a kick up the proverbial to get started!  And the sun is shining in the 'dear green place'...

Well, I had better jump to it! (after I've made another pot of tea... :) )

* for anyone medical who reads this, BMJ in this context means the Baptist Ministers' Journal, not any other publication with a similar set of initials

This morning I was visiting our 'grandaughter' church, or one of of them anyway: I'm not always quite sure which are the children and which the grandchildren because we seem to have supplied them with people each time they began.  So probably best not to push the parentage metaphor too far or we'll be in contravention of some obscure verse of Leviticus!

This morning was everything I love and everything I loathe about small estate churches, or at least my experience of them.  Today was an infant blessing service, and I loved how dozens of folk from the estaste (scheme) polled up in their best clothes to celebrate with the parents of this little girl.  And I loathed the way the service started fifteen minutes late becuase one of the 'supporting adults' (God parents by any other name) had not yet arrived which, given the blessing was the final part of the service, was no reason to delay procedings.  I kind of loved the slight dampness and that place was a bit chilly (even to me!) and that the nineteen sixties padded metal bench pews has seen better days.

I loved the blessing section of the service, lifted straight from Patterns & Prayers and using the form of words for those who cannot in good conscience make a profession of faith.  This is where estate churches excel - they welcome people and bless them with love and acceptance in hope (theological variety) that one day faith will follow.

I admired the gentleness with which the minister told people to shut up and switch off their phones for his 'talk' (they had yabbered all through the hymns and prayers), and the way he used a very simple exposition of part of 1 Corinthians 13 to speak of God's love, which he compared to that of the mother of the child being presented.

Alas, no-one spoke to me, I had to ask where to sit, pointing out that I was not one of the guests.  There was no-one to offer a handshake or welcome at the door on the way in or the way out and no coffee.  This saddened me.  I way yet pop back to this church another Sunday (now I know how to find it!) to see if this was a typical experience or if it was unduly skewed by the influx of folk for the blessing service.

Context is everything... this congregation is housed in the only building in a road on the very edge of a housing scheme; beyond it is wasteland.  It needs a special kind of person to serve such a church, a person who is not fazed by starting fifteen minutes late, and who does have the ability to tell people to shut up and sit down whilst they are speaking.  I'm not that kind of person.  But I thank God that the forebears fo the Gatherers cared enough to plant a little church at the top of a hill (clue) and allow it to develop and grow in order to serve its context.

Highlight of the service for me was a young woman singing a solo in a rich, slightly melancholic voice, and even if the words were a bit inane, it was very moving.  Shame people then applauded as it was a performance - but that's probably my west end intellectual snobbery showing through.

Not my most pleasurable visit of the summer, but one that was good for me in unexpected ways.

Like many others, I am pleased with the outcome of the UK government's vote on Syria.  I am less pleased with the tendnecy we have to say 'Victory for Party X' or 'Defeat for Policy Y'.  Why can't we just be grateful that sometimes democracy actually works?  It matters not to me who is 'in power' (I've never yet voted for the 'ruling' party in European, UK, Scottish, County, Borough or Parish elections, so I'm obviosuly not very good at this stuff!) or who it is that puts up the proposal; what matters is that there is enough serious engagement to make good decisions that echo the mind of the people... or at least that of those with the energy to voice their views.

Having said all that, I'm equally aware of the power of vocal minorities, which can totally skew perception and cause problems for those charged with implementing the outcome of their demands. 

And I am aware of the potential for vocal minorities on ocassion to be dangerous, such as some of the extremist groups, of all persuasions, throughout the UK.

I think I just wish that we could recognise the wonder that democracy is, and rejoice when it seems as if it works without resort to language of winners and losers.

This week I have heard a lot of gripes over minor things, which have annoyed me, because there are many, many major things happening locally and globally.  As is my wont, I started typing and this is what came out:

Perspectives:

Blessed are those who are bored at work; for they have paid employment

Blessed are those who are stuck in traffic jams; for they have somewhere to go

Blessed are those who grumble that food is not to their liking; for they have food to eat

Blessed are those who 'don't have a thing to wear'; for they have many things to wear

Blessed are those who hate double maths (geography/PE/other subject); for they have access to education

Blessed are those who appointment is running late; for they have access to health care

Blessed are those who grumble about government policy; for they have freedom to disagree

Blessed are those who moan about the hymns/sermon/prayers; for they have freedom to practice their faith

Blessed are we when life throws up minor irritations and even major annoyances, for so it is for all people, and, if nothing else, it reminds us how blessed we are that by accident of birth we live in a liberal western democracy.

Today's PAYG was the commemoration of the beheading of John the Baptist - a cheery topic, not.  But as I listened to the story being read aloud, I found myself thinking of the Genesis 2 account of the forbidden fruit and seeing, if not parallels, at least touching points.

In the Adam story that lamest of excuses 'she made me do it' (or words to that effect) are not so far away from Herod's actions 'because he had vowed in front of his guests' (or words to that effect).  In other words, in each case we have foolish men making bad choices but 'it wasn't my fault'.  Really?  I think you'll find it was.

In Adam's story we have the woman beguiled - or at least misled - by the serpent; in Herod's the girl following (and adding to) the demand of her mother.  So in each case we have stereotypical "woman = evil" potential, and certainly female sin preciptating male sin.  Maybe we also have "male = numpty"...?

On Sunday the speaker at the church I visited made some remarks about people making foolish (or apparently) foolish choices.  He spoke of drivers making rash decisions to overtake... then qualified this by saying it was men making rash decisions to overtake cars being driven too slowly by women.  You can see what's happening here... the blame is ascribed to the women driving below the speed limit (maybe with good reason) and subtley removed from the men whose actions cuold, literally, result in a car crash.

I don't want to head off on some gender-related rant, I really don't, but we do need to be very careful that we don't slide into unhelpful and unhealthy dualisms and cliches that have the potenital to mislead our understanding.

The Adam and Eve story involved two humans each of whom falls prey to the temptation to disobey the one rule they have been given.  It's a story about free will and choices having consequences; a story about God being sad and angry and compassionate all at the same time.

The Herod and Herodias story is, in part anyway, about powerful people making ill-conceived grand gestures and feeling obliged to follow through - choices have consequences (so much the same story).  John, the annoying-but-intriguing prophet, is the innocent victim of Herod's foolishness, and maybe it is this aspect that ought to give us pause - who is it (individual or people group) that we find annoying-but -intriguing, infuriating-yet-attractive or whatever combination it is?  And how easily do we, like Herod, fear losing face more than acting aright?  Hmmm.

Many years ago I heard the story of a teacher who told the Herod story to a group of Asian teenage girls (presumably Hindu or Sikh, certainly not Christian).  Asked what they would have done in Herod's place, one of them said, "I would have told them that John was in the other half of my Kingdom, the half I did not promise."  I have always loved this example of lateral thinking, and hope that it might, in some measure, shape my own.