Big Sing

How could I have forgotten to mention the arrival of our new pipeless organ on Sunday? While I was off marching the streets of Rome, the pixies from Wyvern were fitting our brand new organ and Sunday was its first sounding.  Wow!  As I was sitting just below the speakers I can vouch for the volume.  Not a stop was left out, I don’t think, and nobody moved at the end until the last note of Karg-Elert’s Nun Danket alle Gott died out (to a round of applause).  I am aware that other bloggers have discussed whether congregations should applaud Postludes or not, but I think on this occasion it was surely appropriate. After all, we have been using the piano since the beginning of Lent, and while Andrew did a lovely job accompanying us there is nothing quite like a rousing hymn with all the stops out to stir the soul.

Don’t forget the Bishop is coming to bless said organ on Sunday. What with that and a baptism, don’t expect to get out before lunch!

Preaching The Street

You know how it is… you get asked to preach at a very special occasion and you are so flattered to have been asked you immediately say ‘Yes!’  Then as the time draws nearer you start to wonder why you ever thought you could offer some bon mots to suit the occasion.  Your mind is completely empty of any ideas whatsoever and inspiration is off climbing a hill somewhere.  Then you remember a book which might have something to offer and in it, sure enough, you find a quote about Coronation Street which seems terribly apt and you’re off!  Except now you remember you don’t actually watch Coronation Street and are not sure that you’re going to be able to pull it off.

That’s the stage I find myself tonight.  Please say a prayer.

Scottish Guild of Servers

In my home parish it was quite a big thing to be admitted to the Guild of Servers. I think it was about being part of a group who believed in excellence and reverence in the sanctuary and as we had that drummed into us from the very beginning it seemed a natural progression.  You see, we were the first women ever to serve at my home parish and indeed one family left because of it.  So we had to be very good, very unobtrusive, with no make-up, black shoes (of course), and to try and not menstruate if at all possible.

Once a year the Guild met somewhere round the province for its AGM and we looked forward to a day out in the charabang, having a nosy round someone else’s sacristy and a rummage through their vestment cupboard. It all kicked off with a Eucharist where all the servers were robed as per their own custom. Oh how I remember sneering at those who wore albs and, what was that…? White shoes? slingbacks? Heaven forfend!  There we were in cassocks and cottas and black shiny shoes, bosoms bound and yet puffed out with pride. Then we were served refreshments which varied depending on which part of the country we were in, followed by the AGM.  Now the Chaplain-General was a rather elderly and infirm priest who didn’t really seem to approve of us ‘girls’ but we brazened it out.  After all, we knew that if it wasn’t for us girls then our church would be struggling with one or two servers per mass and not a full complement of five.  I don’t really remember what business was discussed at the AGM other than sniggering over the War Memorial Fund and what relevance it had for us today.  There was often an election which seemed to involve the same people decade after decade. Then we gathered in our robes again for the sung Guild Office which was almost impossible to sing in plainsong with elderly voices who’ve really seen their day of hitting that note. More giggling ensued.

When you were made a member of the Guild you had to kneel at the altar rail, make promises and were presented with a cross. Then you were given a copy of the Constitution and Rule which was to guide us in all our ministrations.  I remember it being a proud moment.  Children could be admitted too and we always tried to encourage them to come along to the AGM, although when I look back I do wonder why. What on earth would a child find attractive about that day? The language was archaic, as were most of the members, and really there was nothing to interest a little ‘un.  Occasionally a teenager would turn up but we never saw them again, and who can blame them?  In time the order of service for the Guild Office was updated to something more modern but the whole format of plainsong remained, which rather defeated the purpose in my view.

Years passed and I became a priest. I stopped going to the Server’s Guild because I knew that those in charge were against the ordination of women and who wants to go where they’re not welcome. I did go one year at the invitation of a dear friend and was asked to join as an Associate Priest. I stood in the choir stalls of some distant church and was duly ignored by every priest around me. I noted that the same people were in charge.  I vowed never to go again.  Years passed and one’s memory fades and I went once more at the invitation of some clergy friends in Glasgow diocese. We had a laugh but really it was dreadful. The mass was unbelievably bad and one wondered why a very old and infirm priest was presiding when there were so many others in attendance.  Please believe that I am not implying that old clergy should not preside at mass. Far from it. But you know there are just some occasions when you have to recognise that you shouldn’t be singing mass because your voice isn’t what it once was, and being helped up and down steps and having to sit at every available moment.  And yes, it was the same people who got voted in.  I didn’t go back.

My invitation arrived today for this year’s AGM. Same format, same people. There was also a note that the Constitution and Rule had been revised from the 1929 version. Hallelujah, I thought. The Secretary General even commented that it was easier then he’d thought it might be.  Servers will have an opportunity to make comments on the revision.  I had a quick look and stifled a guffaw.  Basically ‘he’ has been replaced with ‘the server’ throughout.  I’m sure that our young servers will immediately connect with the very first paragraph:

To the server is given the privilege of ministering like Samuel of old, in the Sanctuary. The Server should value this honour and ever strive to become more worthy of it by performing every duty with recollection of the Unseen Presence to Whom such services is rendered.  In order to attain this ideal the server should endeavour to be to the congregation an example of carefulness in observing, so far as able, the precepts and rules of the Church; using the sacraments frequently and with devotion, due preparation and thanksgiving; with application to prayer and meditation, and to a greater realisation of the boundless Love of God.

And so it goes on. The ‘Fraternity’ still exists so women still not welcome. You know I’d thought I might make some amendments and send it in but I can see that it would be a mammoth task of rewriting the whole thing and frankly I can’t be bothered. But if they’re wondering why more young people don’t join then perhaps they ought to have a look at the language and ask what they are offering them.  And to stop standing for the senior posts themselves and encourage younger people to take their place.

Rant over.

No good if you’re on the Atkins Diet

Blimey! How many more weeks of preaching on bread can one cope with? I don’t think there is any property of bread that has not been considered. Today I was even reduced to telling a story about MASH and a dying man smelling bread. That’s how hard it has been to find ‘bread’ things to say.

Nice to have a front row of the great white hope of the SEC today.  Many of the young people who have been working their socks off at Glenalmond all turned up this morning. A tad late but who’s counting! As I looked down upon those fresh faces I pondered what roles they might have in the future of our beloved Church. Will they be the movers and shakers?  The committed Synod members?  The rebels in the naughty corner?  Will any be ordained?  Will there be such a thing as ordained ministry?  Will they have left, disillusioned and frustrated?  They certainly made me think.  I also wondered what they were thinking about our style of worship at St Mark’s. Did it inspire and energise them? Hmm. I suspect it was a tad trad. Perhaps we should do feedback sheets like the Mystery Worshipper when we have visitors.

What questions would you ask of a visitor to see if they’d enjoyed church?

Monday ponderings

Far better for the Celebrant to not turn up than the Preacher.

Note to self – must write an all-season sermon and leave it in church for emergencies.

Mass preparation

Checking out Mother Kimberly’s blog this morning and interested in her comments about preparation before Mass. So I’m pinching her question and asking you, what do you like to do before the Holy Mysteries by way of preparation?

The very first time I went to church I was aware that when you stepped through the door from the narthex into the church, you were stepping on holy ground and silence reigned. Yes, there were little whispers here and there but mainly people knelt and … did what? I wasn’t sure but I assumed they were praying. But what on earth did they have to pray about for such a long time? I mean, some folk came half an hour early!  Who’d voluntarily keep quiet for that length of time? So I found that 5 mins was really my limit and allowed me to say the Lord’s Prayer and a Hail Mary and then bring to mind any folk who I knew needed prayers. Then I’d sit back up and gaze around the glorious church – at statues and candles, and stained glass colours and dust motes in sunlight, and the smell of beeswax, and charcoal being stoked behind the scenes, and the still face of the Risen Christ on the rood cross, and whether all 6 altar candles would stay alight or incur father’s wrath if they didn’t.  Lots to see and adore.

As a Curate in a cathedral the tradition was for clergy and altar servers to mostly stay in the Sacristy in preparation.  Chatting to the folk was kept for after.  So there was a bit of giggling and high spirits (mostly due to me) but agonising silence for long periods. And it never made me feel any more prepared.  Just impatient with anticipation. Agony!

My first Charge was linked so I had 2 churches to look after.  Greeting the people had to be done before the service in my first church because I wouldn’t have a chance after, having to dash off over a hill to the next church in time. So any preparation, my Spiritual Director told me, was to be done at home before I left.  So it was noisy and chaotic and chatty because you came in the door and you were right in the middle of it all, there being no narthex, vestibule or porch.  Some folk vainly tried to kneel and pray but you really had to be pretty dedicated to make it. So I introduced the 5 minute bell – the last 5 minutes before the service have to be in silence.  That allowed me to slip through into the Sacristy/Kitchen/Toilet/Office and get robed and wrestle with the urn-fillers and cup-putter-outers. Not really prayer time then.  Then after that service I left in my car and hot-tailed it over the hill like a rally driver and ran through the doors (usually leaving The Archers at a cliffhanger) and threw on my robes and the service began.

Prep at St Mark’s is the 5 minute rule again and as I’ve said before I really wish I could be one of those holy clergy who sit in our Crypt Chapel praying in silence for ages. I can only look with envy at their stillness.  Instead I am upstairs finding out who needs praying for and how Mrs so and so is now and telling everyone how gorgeous they are. Then the bell goes and its downstairs to robe and although we did try sitting in silence in the chapel about 3 times, I’m afraid its back to checking for my specs, my sermon and now the anti-bacterial handwash. I just can’t do it and that’s that. And if I did keep silence my mind would just be whirring with all those last minute thoughts anyway but I wouldn’t be able to voice them and check which would be ten times worse.

So how do you like to prepare? What rituals do you go through? Are you noisy or silent?

Provincial Conference cancelled

A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far far away (well Aberdeen actually in 1991) I attended my first Provincial Conference. I even have the mug to prove it.  I’d only been going to church a few years and was throwing myself into it all wholeheartedly as new converts do. When I heard about the Conference and that the main speaker was Robert Runcie and that only two people from each congregation could go, I pleaded with my Rector to be allowed to attend. I paid one third, the parish another third and the diocese the final third.  (£95 in total if I remember correctly).  It was a great conference. Robert Runcie turned out to be a very entertaining speaker so that was a bonus. We all had little ‘family groups’ where we met each morning and I got to know some of the pretty well. But what I really loved was the social side of it – the rubbing shoulders with the great and the good (and the not so great or good) of the church. Of sharing stories over a glass of vino or two or more. And I got a mug.

The next Conference was about 5 years later in St Andrew’s and the main speaker was Desmond Tutu so I was first to sign up again. I mean, who wouldn’t want to hear DT?  The other speaker was a Bishop whose name I can’t remember just now but was from New Westminster, Canada but used to be a curate at Old St Paul’s, if I remember correctly. We met in a marquee and it howled a gale for most of it but what a treat. Both speakers were excellent and I mean really high calibre. My ‘family group’ was good and who can forget those evenings in the bar?

I missed the Marcus Borg one which I believe was another goodie. But I did go to the last one. No big names this time – well Rowan Williams did come to do one session but we were told not to ask the big burning question of the day (can you be a homosexual and still be a churchmember/priest/bishop?). The main speakers were Kathy Galloway and a Church of Scotland minister. That’s two Presbyterians.  Many of the family/house groups didn’t work. And the underlying current was just never allowed to be brought out into the open.

This year’s Conference was to be held in October. The speakers were to be Bishop Stephen Cottrill, Annabel Goldie, and another Church of Scotland minister. That’s an Englishman, a Tory and a Presbyterian. I’m sorry but this is the SEC and that big burning question of the day is still not really being addressed and is unlikely to at this rate. The subject was that old chestnut – Five Marks of Mission. It was to be in Aviemore in  a nice hotel this time so I signed up. Not because of the speakers, I have to admit, but because it was in a nice hotel and I do enjoy the craic. Then I heard Ms Goldie has pulled out because it clashed with the Tory Party Conference. Do they not have diaries?  It has now been cancelled because not enough folk have signed up. I wonder why?

Here’s why I think it failed.

• The speakers were not big names, not crowd pullers.  I mean I have heard of Stephen Cottrill and Annabel Goldie or Eric Cramb but I wonder how many of my flock have heard of them all. Or would pay good money to hear them.
• You had to book months/years ahead. And you couldn’t book online. People just don’t want to commit to that kind of thing so far ahead. And there is no closing date for applications on the website.
• It was expensive. The cost was about £300 for two days. But this time each diocese had a different method of assistance – or not. In our case, you could pay half and your parish the other half. We did not have a Diocesan allowance for financial help.
• Do people want to talk about Mission?

So there we have it. It has now been cancelled. A pile of money has been wasted in meetings, facilitators trained and hours of preparation and planning. Deposit cheques have bounced right, left and centre because they were held on to for months and months before cashing.

Who would you have wanted to hear at a Conference?

A week of filling in forms

A few weeks ago someone from New College (Uni of Edin) emailed our Bishop encouraging Piskie priests and lay readers to apply for the MTh and to say that Bursaries are available. It has been on my mind for some time – to do a Masters – and this seemed like the prompt I needed. Of course, coming as it did the week before Holy Week, I was only able to express interest at that point and then speak to the Vestry for approval which they did (not quite unanimously!).

With encouragement from New College, this week I have spent hours wrestling with the online application form.  They wanted my dissertation ( lost long ago in a defunct computer and hard copy borrowed but never returned) and my proposal for research. Didn’t realise you had to know quite so soon what you wanted to study. then they wanted 2 academic references – who would remember me after 9 years?  It did say that if you have been away for some time one academic and one line manager would do.  Contacted the person who supervised my dissertation and he rememered me but not my work so had to supply him with the said dissertation and my marks from every year of study!  Found them all but one, amazingly, but that’s not enough.  Took me two days in all and then discovered that there may not be Bursaries after all so it was probably all in vain. Bah.

Then I have spent the last two days filling in an 8 page form for my first Ministerial Review with the Bishop. How do I describe my ministry? Most and least enjoy? Balance of work commitment/family/friends? What theology have I read in past year? Impact on ministry? How do I pray? And so it goes on.

So, in answer to ‘what do I least enjoy?’ I think the answer this week is – filling in forms.

Another thing they didn’t teach us at Tisec…

How much training do you think clergy get on buildings, organs, property, Health and Safety? Yes, you’re quite right. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

So this last year has been a steep learning curve for this little flock-carer who only really wanted to love people and now has to wrestle with much less exciting things in the parish. First there was Health and Safety – and yes, I know we haven’t yet had that extra fire drill.  (And on that note, how awful do those big alarm bells look on our walls where lovely icons should hang?)

Fortunately, I have an excellent Property Committee who take care of all the day to day building crises. Before I came the exterior of St Mark’s was cleaned and made watertight. The interior ceiling has just been replastered and repaired leaving a rather fetching patchy effect. (Mind you, the rest of the paint is peeling and about to drop and decapitate some unfortunate wee lamb.) So we had thought that we might have an appeal at St Markstide for redecoration. That was until the boundary wall started to cave in and threaten the lives of innocent passers-by. Then the handrail at the few steps from the side gate started to rot and wobble and the steps are unsafe so the vast amount of complaints have meant that we have had to address this, putting the redecoration further down the list.

Then last week the organ decided not to play some notes so poor Andrew had to leap like a gazelle over to the (out of tune) piano after the Gloria. The organ tuners came in this week and did what they could but sadly yesterday it was worse. Piano again made an appearance – not just out of tune but some notes not playing either. (Do you think this counts are persecution?)

So now we need to find an organ of sorts to hire over Lent. We need to see how much money we have and prioritise it. Aagghh, I hate property issues!

The Cuckoo Mass

It is sad, but true, that we have a thief prowling our premises on Thursday mornings while we are at Mass. Our mid-week services take place in the Crypt chapel and entrance is by the side door of the church through a meeting room and along a corridor. As a few of our congregation are known to be late the door always stays open. However, a few weeks ago someone had their purse stolen from their bag which they had left in the meeting room. Silly, I know. I warned them all to bring bags with them into the Crypt. Then someone had a bank card, bus pass and bank pay-in book stolen from their coat pocket which was hanging in the corrider just a few feet away from the Crypt chapel. They are certainly light of foot – and finger.

Last week we closed the door at 9.58am and a host of latecomers had to come in by the upstairs door (with a key) and trek downstairs, looking rather sheepish. This week a bell has been fitted to the side door which rings just outside the chapel. Somehow, (can you explain Ian?!) it sounds like a cuckoo which I suppose is nicer than your average bell. Nobody was late today. I will keep you posted on how often someone in the back row has to leap up like a gazelle and gallop to the door to let the latecomers in. And how irritating will the cuckoo become?