A couple of weeks ago I asked for a bit of advice about recording services. Part one of this post is a "how to" based on the system that Lane End church uses. Part two is some discussion on the future.
Part one.
Lane end, like many congregations has a set of microphones that are connected to a simple mixer and amplifier. The output is sent to the speakers in the sanctuary, with another channel being sent round the T-loop system to work with hearing aids. A third channel was sent out to a tape recorder. After the service, tapes were duplicated in an industrial duplicator, (a donation from a few years back) before being passed round the housebound.
Unfortunately, despite as much love and attention that could be given to the duplicator, it started to break down. Someone donated a PC with the aim that it be used to record the service digitally and to distribute CD's instead of tapes. The first PC was a bit old for the job, but at least proved the concept worked, so the decision was made to purchase a new laptop. The laptop needed software to record the service, and for your recordings I'd recommend Audacity which is free and open source. The laptop came with Cyberlink power2go which was used to burn CD's. To speed things up, a CD duplicator was acquired which meant that after the first CD was burnt, a further four could be burnt at once, three in the duplicator and one in the laptop.
So to recap. You need:
A spare line out from your amplifier.
A PC with a line in. (The microphone socket will often work as a line in)
Audacity software for the recordings.
Cd burning software if it's not already on your laptop
A CD duplicator
Part 2
Burning CD's has a cost attached, so we had some discussion about saving the service as an MP3. Instead of burning CD's, the service could be loaded onto some sort of MP3 player. The problem with MP3 players is, they are either too fiddle for people with restricted dexterity or vision, or just too complicated for people to use.
My first thought was an Ipod shuffle. It's got a big play/pause button in the middle, but the buttons for volume are just a bit wee. Next thought was a Creative Zen Stone as the buttons are a bit bigger. The end user could have the choice of playing back through a set of headphones or a set of docking speakers. The final option was to load the service onto a USB stick and play it through something similar to one of these MP3 players from the RNIB. Whichever option is selected, it's just a case of copying the recording onto the MP3 player. Note that some DAB radios or stereo systems have USB MP3 playback. Your congregation may already have a means of playback, without them even knowing.
One other option is to load the service onto the church website as a download.
As a trial measure, the Lane End will be asking for donations of MP3 players. As many people now use their phones for their music, they may have perfectly good MP3 players sitting in a drawer unused.
The important thing is to find out what the end user would prefer. I know that for some, the CD will remain their preferred option, while there are other people who are already comfortable using Ipods. Just because people are old or housebound does not mean they are afraid of technology.
More important than tapes, CD's, or MP3's (or even wax cylinders) however, is that the housebound are still active members of our congregations. It's important that someone is visiting and ensuring they are still part of the Christian community. The recording of the service is just a bonus.
If you want advice, leave a comment and I'll see what I can do.
Boring Legal Bit. Make sure you are licensed to record and distribute services.
Monday 31 December 2012
Tuesday 25 December 2012
Merry Christmas!
The title says it all. Have a good one.
The Fifty Acts will resume in the new year.
P.S. Sprouts are evil.
The Fifty Acts will resume in the new year.
P.S. Sprouts are evil.
Sunday 23 December 2012
Fifty Acts 19. New Beginnings
This afternoon I visited a church building that is starting over again. Lots of things have been said about this situation, and I'm not going to add to it here. This post serves as a placeholder for entry number 19 in my public blog. The rest will go in my private journal.
I genuinely wish both congregations well.
I genuinely wish both congregations well.
Fifty Acts 18. The Unstoppable Congregation
Sometimes things go wrong for a congregation. But the congregation I visited today has a history that involves buildings that have suffered from massive repair bills, flooding and fire. No plague or pestilence, fortunately. Despite the occasional misfortune, they are a friendly bunch and their congregation has quite literally, risen from the ashes.
My initial plan for the day follows in Fifty Acts 19, but I took the opportunity of a trip west to visit with a friend who is on placement at Langside. We were both at the same enquirers conference, and one of these days, when the weather is a bit nicer she can have a hurl on my motorbike. Today wasn't exactly biking weather, making the trip over the Forth and Kingston Bridges a time to hold tight and pray for deliverance.
You can tell how the rest of the service will run at a church by the quality of the welcome. A quick test. Your church has a rota for people who are allocated to be the welcomer at the door. If these people were not there, would a visitor to your congregation be welcomed by anyone? If your visitor is welcomed without the need for a welcomer, then you can truly call yourself welcoming. Some congregations with welcomers are still not welcoming. Some without welcomers are the most welcoming. Langside, I am pleased to report had welcomers and was exceptionally welcoming.
The church is a pleasant community space, well laid out and accessible. I managed to sit down in the sanctuary, and had obviously got there without casting my gaze above my eye level when I looked up and BANG! This hit me. In a building with mostly plain white walls, this interpretation the Last Supper jumps out. It's a striking piece of art that is challenging, but sits well within the space. There's so much in it, I couldn't help but cast an occasional glance at it throughout the service. The original was destroyed in the recent fire, so the artist, Stuart Duffin replaced it. Click here for more information about the Last Supper II..
I'm hoping for another chance to visit Langside. If only to have another look at what has become one of my favourite paintings. And on a day as foul as today, it's good to know that a strong congregation can weather the storm.
My initial plan for the day follows in Fifty Acts 19, but I took the opportunity of a trip west to visit with a friend who is on placement at Langside. We were both at the same enquirers conference, and one of these days, when the weather is a bit nicer she can have a hurl on my motorbike. Today wasn't exactly biking weather, making the trip over the Forth and Kingston Bridges a time to hold tight and pray for deliverance.
You can tell how the rest of the service will run at a church by the quality of the welcome. A quick test. Your church has a rota for people who are allocated to be the welcomer at the door. If these people were not there, would a visitor to your congregation be welcomed by anyone? If your visitor is welcomed without the need for a welcomer, then you can truly call yourself welcoming. Some congregations with welcomers are still not welcoming. Some without welcomers are the most welcoming. Langside, I am pleased to report had welcomers and was exceptionally welcoming.
The church is a pleasant community space, well laid out and accessible. I managed to sit down in the sanctuary, and had obviously got there without casting my gaze above my eye level when I looked up and BANG! This hit me. In a building with mostly plain white walls, this interpretation the Last Supper jumps out. It's a striking piece of art that is challenging, but sits well within the space. There's so much in it, I couldn't help but cast an occasional glance at it throughout the service. The original was destroyed in the recent fire, so the artist, Stuart Duffin replaced it. Click here for more information about the Last Supper II..
I'm hoping for another chance to visit Langside. If only to have another look at what has become one of my favourite paintings. And on a day as foul as today, it's good to know that a strong congregation can weather the storm.
Friday 21 December 2012
21/12/12 - End of the World
By the end of today you will be sick hearing this on the radio.
So you can have it here instead.
So unless the Mayans got their sums wrong, I'll see you tomorrow.
P.S. What if the Mayans weren't using GMT. It's been the 21st for 21 hours, has anyone heard from Australia..?
Wednesday 19 December 2012
Sunday 16 December 2012
Fifty Acts 17. Going Round the Bend.
Mrs G. has an exam tomorrow, so I decided to get out of the house to give her peace to revise. So while she went off to do her thing, I went into Edinburgh to Bristo Baptist Church. They claim to be the second oldest Baptist congregation in the UK, and they can trace their history back to at least 1765.
I've been working in Edinburgh for years, and I've always thought Bristo Baptist looked an odd shape from outside. The building fills a corner plot, which was originally intended to complete the row of houses on Buckingham Terrace, and I've always wondered if the sanctuary has a bend in the middle. Well today I found that there is one end for halls and the other for the sanctuary. If you like your thirties architecture, then this is right up your street. It's art deco with an outstanding marble baptistry that sits in the centre. The pews have been removed, allowing a worship space with flexible seating, an area for the children to play, and a separate area with a small kitchen and a couple of sofas. I thought the reformers banned comfortable seating...
This wasn't a church that I could sneak into. I was welcomed by everyone. The congregation wasn't that large, but they had a genuine warmth, and everyone circulated and chatted with friends. There seemed little discussion about the business of the church, and more about the life of the community.
In his sermon, the preacher told of his time as a student in England where he would go to different churches (with you there, bro) and noted the community spirit in each. One large church formed into closed circles after the service, so for him to join in a discussion, he would have to break in. Yet at another smaller church, where there were just as many dogs in attendance as there were humans, the welcome was considerably different. He also mentioned another church where they don't have a building, but meet over a meal at the house of a member.
It was actually one of my best visits yet, and nobody seemed to notice the time.
So how do we work towards the position where we have a large Christian community, but still retain the welcome and warmth that you can often get from smaller congregations?
*********************************
Afterwards, as I recovered my bike, there was a man nearby doing some gardening. He was smoking a cigarette of a certain herbal variety and even downwind, it was a little potent. This was the middle of Edinburgh, not the middle of Amsterdam. Is it becoming more socially acceptable to have some grass as you mow the lawn?
I've been working in Edinburgh for years, and I've always thought Bristo Baptist looked an odd shape from outside. The building fills a corner plot, which was originally intended to complete the row of houses on Buckingham Terrace, and I've always wondered if the sanctuary has a bend in the middle. Well today I found that there is one end for halls and the other for the sanctuary. If you like your thirties architecture, then this is right up your street. It's art deco with an outstanding marble baptistry that sits in the centre. The pews have been removed, allowing a worship space with flexible seating, an area for the children to play, and a separate area with a small kitchen and a couple of sofas. I thought the reformers banned comfortable seating...
This wasn't a church that I could sneak into. I was welcomed by everyone. The congregation wasn't that large, but they had a genuine warmth, and everyone circulated and chatted with friends. There seemed little discussion about the business of the church, and more about the life of the community.
In his sermon, the preacher told of his time as a student in England where he would go to different churches (with you there, bro) and noted the community spirit in each. One large church formed into closed circles after the service, so for him to join in a discussion, he would have to break in. Yet at another smaller church, where there were just as many dogs in attendance as there were humans, the welcome was considerably different. He also mentioned another church where they don't have a building, but meet over a meal at the house of a member.
It was actually one of my best visits yet, and nobody seemed to notice the time.
So how do we work towards the position where we have a large Christian community, but still retain the welcome and warmth that you can often get from smaller congregations?
*********************************
Afterwards, as I recovered my bike, there was a man nearby doing some gardening. He was smoking a cigarette of a certain herbal variety and even downwind, it was a little potent. This was the middle of Edinburgh, not the middle of Amsterdam. Is it becoming more socially acceptable to have some grass as you mow the lawn?
Fifty Acts 16. Something Old at Somewhere New.
The something old being the carol service. The first I've been to this year. The somewhere new was New College, and the event was the end of term carol service.
The service had a lot of people involved, and while that can sometimes be a recipe for disaster, the whole service smoothly switched from person to person with no visible technical hitches. One of the readings was given by the chap that gives speech training to ministry candidates. As would be expected, his delivery was flawless, and I'm looking forward to taking instruction from him next year. He certainly knows his craft well.
The acoustics in the room were less than perfect, and loud music played outside. Despite that, the choir excelled themselves.
The sermon was given by the Right Reverend Albert Bogle, the current Moderator of the Church of Scotland. Before his sermon, he told us that he has told many people the same thing this year, that ministry is the best job ever, and that he encouraged everyone to follow their calling. Now there was a time not too very long ago that nearly everyone in that room would have been training for the CofS ministry, and that part of his message would have been pointless. But as I looked around the room, there certainly wasn't the dozens of candidates that there would have been in years gone by. So how do we get more people into the role that the Moderator, and many other ministers I have met finds so fulfilling?
Unfortunately I was having a bit of a low couple of days. While the Mod spoke about ministry being so great, I was having a bit of a moan to Mrs G. as this part of the training is a bit isolated. I'm not attending a physical uni, so I don't meet my colleagues, and due to my work circumstances, I've not been able to visit New College as often as I'd like. I'm also not part of the training networks that full time ministry candidates are involved with. And the online forum that I set up hasn't exactly taken off. It can be a bit lonely sometimes.
Looking around the room, there will be fewer and fewer opportunities for those gathered to join together in worship before we all go off to our respective charges. So it's a privilege to be able to share worship at New College.
The service had a lot of people involved, and while that can sometimes be a recipe for disaster, the whole service smoothly switched from person to person with no visible technical hitches. One of the readings was given by the chap that gives speech training to ministry candidates. As would be expected, his delivery was flawless, and I'm looking forward to taking instruction from him next year. He certainly knows his craft well.
The acoustics in the room were less than perfect, and loud music played outside. Despite that, the choir excelled themselves.
The sermon was given by the Right Reverend Albert Bogle, the current Moderator of the Church of Scotland. Before his sermon, he told us that he has told many people the same thing this year, that ministry is the best job ever, and that he encouraged everyone to follow their calling. Now there was a time not too very long ago that nearly everyone in that room would have been training for the CofS ministry, and that part of his message would have been pointless. But as I looked around the room, there certainly wasn't the dozens of candidates that there would have been in years gone by. So how do we get more people into the role that the Moderator, and many other ministers I have met finds so fulfilling?
Unfortunately I was having a bit of a low couple of days. While the Mod spoke about ministry being so great, I was having a bit of a moan to Mrs G. as this part of the training is a bit isolated. I'm not attending a physical uni, so I don't meet my colleagues, and due to my work circumstances, I've not been able to visit New College as often as I'd like. I'm also not part of the training networks that full time ministry candidates are involved with. And the online forum that I set up hasn't exactly taken off. It can be a bit lonely sometimes.
Looking around the room, there will be fewer and fewer opportunities for those gathered to join together in worship before we all go off to our respective charges. So it's a privilege to be able to share worship at New College.
Saturday 15 December 2012
Service Recordings - Help Wanted
At the moment, Lane End church uses a PC to record the service. This is then burned onto a CD before being put through a CD duplicator, and the CD is then sent to the housebound with a copy of the order of service. This is a considerable improvement over the old cassette system, as the tape duplicator was on its last legs, and the congregation's tape players were suffering a similar fate.
The downside to this is that there is a cost of purchasing CD's. One of the CD drives has died on the duplicator, and while it's a simple fix to change one of the drives, as it's just standard sata drives it uses, is there a better way?
Hosting the service on the website isn't realistic, as the intended audience doesn't have computers. We were thinking about giving out USB drives to those who have radios with USB ports, or giving out speakers with the USB to those who don't. My first thought was something like this and a small (1gb) usb stick.
So what does your congregation use?
The downside to this is that there is a cost of purchasing CD's. One of the CD drives has died on the duplicator, and while it's a simple fix to change one of the drives, as it's just standard sata drives it uses, is there a better way?
Hosting the service on the website isn't realistic, as the intended audience doesn't have computers. We were thinking about giving out USB drives to those who have radios with USB ports, or giving out speakers with the USB to those who don't. My first thought was something like this and a small (1gb) usb stick.
So what does your congregation use?
Sunday 9 December 2012
Fifty Acts 15. Just another Brick in the Wall.
I grew up in the leafy surroundings of Little Dounreay. It's a quaint fishing village downstream from Callander.
The parish can trace its history back to the 1100's, with he current place of worship the third to be used. I have a personal connection to the new building because I own a brick. They were sold in order to raise funds for the new building. If the General Trustees ever want the building back, they are going to have to fight me for my brick.
So today I returned to Little Dounreay, and while there were a lot of new faces, it was good to see some of the faces from long ago, although we all have gained a bit of mileage.
In her sermon, the Minister brought up the idea of looking afresh at the old familiar stories that we hear at this time of year, and that we think we know so well. And I took the chance to look afresh at my building. Even though it's a relatively modern building, there's been a few changes over the years. Small tweaks as the congregation made its mark on the place. When I first went there, any form of projection would have been unheard of. Microphones had appeared very early, but there certainly wasn't the mixing desk in the back row. One thing I wouldn't mind losing is the chairs. I'm just the perfect height for the chair back to dig into my kidneys!
But back to the Minister. (As I visit various churches, I don't plan to comment on the preachers. I'm not going to critique people who are pretty soon going to be my colleagues.) Her delivery was absolutely outstanding. From where we were sitting, it looked as if she rarely referred to her notes, and her style was enthusiastic and engaging. It made me realise that I've got a long way to go before I can be that articulate. But that's something for me to worry about when I start speech training next year. I've certainly got another example to aspire to.
So they have my permission to keep using my brick.
In other news. That's the essays out of the way for this term.
The parish can trace its history back to the 1100's, with he current place of worship the third to be used. I have a personal connection to the new building because I own a brick. They were sold in order to raise funds for the new building. If the General Trustees ever want the building back, they are going to have to fight me for my brick.
So today I returned to Little Dounreay, and while there were a lot of new faces, it was good to see some of the faces from long ago, although we all have gained a bit of mileage.
In her sermon, the Minister brought up the idea of looking afresh at the old familiar stories that we hear at this time of year, and that we think we know so well. And I took the chance to look afresh at my building. Even though it's a relatively modern building, there's been a few changes over the years. Small tweaks as the congregation made its mark on the place. When I first went there, any form of projection would have been unheard of. Microphones had appeared very early, but there certainly wasn't the mixing desk in the back row. One thing I wouldn't mind losing is the chairs. I'm just the perfect height for the chair back to dig into my kidneys!
But back to the Minister. (As I visit various churches, I don't plan to comment on the preachers. I'm not going to critique people who are pretty soon going to be my colleagues.) Her delivery was absolutely outstanding. From where we were sitting, it looked as if she rarely referred to her notes, and her style was enthusiastic and engaging. It made me realise that I've got a long way to go before I can be that articulate. But that's something for me to worry about when I start speech training next year. I've certainly got another example to aspire to.
So they have my permission to keep using my brick.
In other news. That's the essays out of the way for this term.
Friday 7 December 2012
Fifty Acts 14. Happy Hanukkah
Well this is taking the journal in a new direction.
The speaker in tonight's service was from Jews for Jesus, an organisation that seeks to introduce Jewish people to Jesus. (What a coincidence. I was just reading this book which deals with similar subject matter.) The speaker gave his testimony about growing up in a Jewish household, and of his being instilled with a general distrust of Christians. Christians were seen as the enemy, and, considering all the persecutions levied by Christians against Jewish people over the years, who can blame them. He told how he was introduced to Jesus by a friend, and how he started reading the New Testament
The speaker was an exceptionally enthusiastic evangelical preacher, and he is certainly hands on, introducing people to Jesus. And there's a lot of family pressure to overcome when a jew converts to Christianity. It's not just a faith you are changing, but a perception that you have to disown your family. What Jews for Jesus teaches is that the New Testament was written by a bunch of Jews, and is written for Jews, and for everyone else.
So it was a small service in terms of numbers in the pews, but one that was big on ideas to consider..
The speaker in tonight's service was from Jews for Jesus, an organisation that seeks to introduce Jewish people to Jesus. (What a coincidence. I was just reading this book which deals with similar subject matter.) The speaker gave his testimony about growing up in a Jewish household, and of his being instilled with a general distrust of Christians. Christians were seen as the enemy, and, considering all the persecutions levied by Christians against Jewish people over the years, who can blame them. He told how he was introduced to Jesus by a friend, and how he started reading the New Testament
The speaker was an exceptionally enthusiastic evangelical preacher, and he is certainly hands on, introducing people to Jesus. And there's a lot of family pressure to overcome when a jew converts to Christianity. It's not just a faith you are changing, but a perception that you have to disown your family. What Jews for Jesus teaches is that the New Testament was written by a bunch of Jews, and is written for Jews, and for everyone else.
So it was a small service in terms of numbers in the pews, but one that was big on ideas to consider..
Thursday 6 December 2012
Fifty Acts. 13. The Word on the Street.
Back in May I went out with the Street Pastors. (May just seems like an awful long time ago.) Well tonight I was at the commissioning service for a group of Street Pastors in the City Centre. You can't just turn up and put on the blue coat, and while I'd by lying if I said I knew everything teir training entailed, I remember the request for volunteers going out some months ago, so they have certainly been busy.
The service was held in the Baptist church that I visited the other week, with representatives from many of the city churches in attendance. It seemed that every other person was wearing blue clothing, so it would have been nice if more people turned out to swell the numbers. The thing about Street Pastors is they work in partnership with the Police and the Council to make the towns they work in a more pleasant place. The speakers (Pastors, Council and Police) gave a good account of how the town is better since the arrival of the Pastors, and how crime has reduced. While there was a part of me thinking that drink fueled violence is reducing because nobody can afford a pint, I have seen first hand how situations have been defused by a quiet word from a Street Pastor. And I've certainly seen evidence of long-term pastoral relationships building up with the public and the staff of venues.
"Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”
Sorry. I can't write. I've got an essay due on Mark 16:8 and I'm trying to argue that if one Jewish woman can testify of the death of a man then surely it must be OK for three to testify about a man's resurrection? First century women's rights just isn't my strong point. More coherent rambles will follow next week.
Sunday 2 December 2012
Fifty Acts. Twelve. United we Stand
Another first. I've never been to a United Reformed service before.
The style of worship was familiar enough to anyone from a CofS background that a visitor like myself would be able to hit the ground running and not feel out of place. The welcome was friendly and sincere, and it's a shame that I'm not going to be able to drop in more often.
Looking around the congregation, there was a strong community bond, as everyone circulated and chatted as friends before and after the service. I was quickly introduced to a number of members of the congregation. No hiding at the back possible today.
Like many CofS congregations, this church is in vacancy, and the service was conducted by a lay preacher. With 1500 congregations, and only 700 ministers, the role of the lay preacher is an exceptionally important one in the URC. The service today was a Communion service, which the preacher was allowed to conduct, something I'm not going to be allowed to do until after I lose my ministerial L plates.
Some small details of the Communion service stuck in my mind. first of all, after breaking the bread, the servers served the congregation, then the preacher served the servers, before the server served the preacher. Only then did we all eat together. The same happened for the wine. It's a small detail, but I liked the togetherness of it.
So it looks like we are all going to be short of ministers in the next few years. I'm all in favour of pooling our resources, showing a bit of Christian unity.
The style of worship was familiar enough to anyone from a CofS background that a visitor like myself would be able to hit the ground running and not feel out of place. The welcome was friendly and sincere, and it's a shame that I'm not going to be able to drop in more often.
Looking around the congregation, there was a strong community bond, as everyone circulated and chatted as friends before and after the service. I was quickly introduced to a number of members of the congregation. No hiding at the back possible today.
Like many CofS congregations, this church is in vacancy, and the service was conducted by a lay preacher. With 1500 congregations, and only 700 ministers, the role of the lay preacher is an exceptionally important one in the URC. The service today was a Communion service, which the preacher was allowed to conduct, something I'm not going to be allowed to do until after I lose my ministerial L plates.
Some small details of the Communion service stuck in my mind. first of all, after breaking the bread, the servers served the congregation, then the preacher served the servers, before the server served the preacher. Only then did we all eat together. The same happened for the wine. It's a small detail, but I liked the togetherness of it.
So it looks like we are all going to be short of ministers in the next few years. I'm all in favour of pooling our resources, showing a bit of Christian unity.
Thursday 22 November 2012
More on the Bishop thing.
I've got a friend who doesn't think that there should be women priests, so the whole idea of women being bishops was not something that had appeared on her radar. She just wouldn't be comfortable in a church where the priest was female, yet, despite this, she always asks how Mrs Gerbil is getting on, and is genuinely interested.
It was the other week that we were chatting and she told me of her background in the Catholic Church. To her, priests are men. While she has heard some outstanding female preachers, she doesn't think that they should be ordained. As far as she is concerned, the role of women is to be the wife and mother. The role that was expected of women for centuries. Being a priest is a role for men. No exceptions.
It's odd, but I've got an expectation that all women would be in favour of equality, and I never thought I would encounter a woman that thought differently. Especially not in my social circles. This past few months have made me realise I can't assume anything about anyone's opinions.
Yet last night I found a pamphlet from an organisation that was opposed to votes for women. It's not a bit of internet trash, anti-suffragism existed on both sides of the Atlantic.
So do we need another generation to come through, one that is more used to women as priests, before we see women bishops?
Or is it more likely that they try a reformation and abolish the bishops?
It was the other week that we were chatting and she told me of her background in the Catholic Church. To her, priests are men. While she has heard some outstanding female preachers, she doesn't think that they should be ordained. As far as she is concerned, the role of women is to be the wife and mother. The role that was expected of women for centuries. Being a priest is a role for men. No exceptions.
It's odd, but I've got an expectation that all women would be in favour of equality, and I never thought I would encounter a woman that thought differently. Especially not in my social circles. This past few months have made me realise I can't assume anything about anyone's opinions.
Yet last night I found a pamphlet from an organisation that was opposed to votes for women. It's not a bit of internet trash, anti-suffragism existed on both sides of the Atlantic.
So do we need another generation to come through, one that is more used to women as priests, before we see women bishops?
Or is it more likely that they try a reformation and abolish the bishops?
Wednesday 21 November 2012
Public Safety
This is how a public safetyfilm should be made.
For the earworm that's now going round your head, you're welcome.
(Are there any other children of the eighties that remember the Balfour Beatty film that had a nerdy kid being obliterated by various bits of construction machinery?)
For the earworm that's now going round your head, you're welcome.
(Are there any other children of the eighties that remember the Balfour Beatty film that had a nerdy kid being obliterated by various bits of construction machinery?)
Sunday 18 November 2012
Fifty Acts. Ten A and B, Fieldside and Lane End
First off, the man who collapsed on Thursday is sitting up and eating, and knows nothing about Thursday beyond suddenly feeling a bit funny. Sincere compliments to the GP's, the ambulance crew and the staff of the local hospital for doing what they do best.
Today the service was taken by someone who has been described as one of the most influential speakers in the Church of Scotland. At least that is what his mum tells him. Today there were two acts of worship, but I'm counting them together as I did both of them. Fieldside is a rural congregation, small in number on a Sunday morning, but with a great spiritual warmth. And their social evenings just can't be beaten.
Lane End is on the edge of two towns, that through expansion have merged into one. It's what Mrs Gerbil and I would describe as our home church, even if we only visit occasionally. It's good to come back occasionally as the people are great, and the downside of this ministry thing is that we do miss seeing them.
Last Sunday I emailed my minister and asked if I could have a shot at doing a service, just to keep my hand in. No problems, he replied. how about the 18th? No problems said I, not realising the week would conspire against me. So the lesson for the week is that, I'm going to be a Minister of Word and Sacrament. And whatever happens, the Word has to go out at 9.30 and 11.00 on the Sunday. Time management is essential.
I tried something new today. Actually it was "borrowed" from Highland Cathedral, but it worked there. I had a quiet hymn, sitting down, followed by a minute of silence. This lead into the prayers of intercession and I asked the congregation to use it to reflect on events in their lives and in the lives of those around them. I had warned the organists beforehand of my plans and asked them to use quiet voices when they played the hymns.
For the readings I selected five short verses to use, but I gave the readers a script to read from, so they didn't have to spend ages looking up pages in the lectern bible.
The feedback at the door at Lane End was positive, and not just from those trying to be polite. There was no feedback at the door at Fieldside, as tea is served in the side aisle, so nobody leaves immediately. A short pause at the door, then I went and got my brew as well. Feedback is better with a cuppa in your hand.
But there was something different today. I preached at both congregations the week before my selection, but this time it just felt like i was actually meant to be there. I wasn't just spot from the Worship Group, or spottheprojectionist, I am trainee spotthereverendgerbil. Now that's an odd feeling.
The sermon, for those interested is below. I have to write my sermons out in full, even though I will only use it as a guide when I'm talking. This is very much the rough cut. The gospel readings this is based on are:
Matthew 4:1-2
Luke 6:12-13
Matthew 14:23
Luke 5:15-16
Matthew 26:36
Sermon
[After the previous hymn, insert painfully long silent pause here]
There’s something just unsettling about unexpected silence. I was wondering how long I could keep silent?
I’ve got no plans for the afternoon, does anyone fancy forming a silent order?
The thing about modern life is, it’s so noisy. Even taking a pause in church this morning, the traffic is still going by outside. In my office, I have two computers on my desk, ancient machines that have massive cooling fans. There is a background roar in my office as 120 machines drone on. Yet, when people have gone home, and everything is shut down, the office feels alien, abnormal.
And it seems like everyone today is wearing headphones, replacing the outside noise for their own personal soundtrack. How often do you experience genuine, peaceful quiet? And when you do, how does it make you feel? Do you need to have the radio on in the background. Do we need to block out the noise of the world with more noise?
A couple of years ago, the BBC showed a programme where a Benedictine Monk, Father Cristopher Jamieson, took a group of ordinary people, some religious, some not, through a process to introduce a bit of silence in their lives. The culmination of the series was an eight day silent retreat where the participants had only a mentor to talk to. The rest of the time was spent in silence.
One of the participants, the owner of two successful businesses said that he had been all over the world and tried many things but he had never found fulfilment. He seemed to struggle early on, but towards the end of his stay, silence just seemed so right for him. In his own words:
“It’s now a friend, rather than a foe. But it’s really difficult to explain that to people, cause you have to go there. It’s like, you can’t explain bungee jumping or parachuting or anything like that. You have to do it. If you watch someone who is going to parachute for the first time, they are terrified, and then afterwards they are exhilarated, and silence has been a bit like that for me.”
This morning I picked out a selection of readings from the New Testament. I’m not trying to play biblical tricks, and I’m not picking readings out of context to elaborate an obscure point. I could have selected a few more of a similar nature. The bible is clear that, before Jesus started his ministry, before he made the decision about which of the disciples became apostles, throughout his entire ministry, and before he went to his death, Jesus took time to retreat on his own. He sought his space to listen to God. Even God’s son, needs time alone to take stock of events and pray to God.
If the phone rings, you switch off the radio to answer the call. You remove the distractions to hear the message. So how do you get rid of your distractions. Where is your space? Where do you go to listen to God? When is your quiet time?
Well I try to have a quiet time.
I’m writing this late on Thursday night. Mrs Gerbil has gone to her bed, and this is my time. My bit of quiet, reflective time. Normally at this time, I’m reading, catching up on the news, or some of the online diaries I read. Or I’ll switch the whole lot off and just have some totally quiet time. But tonight, I’ve had a really rough day. Something has happened today that has left me a bit shaken up. I just don’t want quiet. I’ve got some music playing in the background because the quiet is just too loud. There’s a time for silence, but there’s also a time when I need AC/DC cranked up to eleven.
Complete silence isn’t for everyone, and for those that do seek it out, it’s not what you want all the time.
When we enter into periods of silence, we start to see things with greater clarity. We come to know ourselves, and get in touch with the deepest part of ourselves. That is our soul.
But where is God in all of this. Well this is from the first book of Kings, where Elijah is off in the wilderness.
“There he went into a cave to spend the night.
Suddenly the Lord spoke to him, “Elijah, what are you doing here?”
He answered, “Lord God Almighty, I have always served you—you alone. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed all your prophets. I am the only one left—and they are trying to kill me!”
“Go out and stand before me on top of the mountain,” the Lord said to him. Then the Lord passed by and sent a furious wind that split the hills and shattered the rocks—but the Lord was not in the wind. The wind stopped blowing, and then there was an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was a fire—but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the soft whisper of a voice.
Not in the furious earth shattering wind.
Not in the earthquake.
Not in the fire.
But in the still small quiet voice.
The quiet voice.
So find your space. Find your quiet. Say “here I am Lord.” And listen. Listen carefully, because god is whispering to you.
Because silence is the gateway to the soul, and the soul is the gateway to God.
Today the service was taken by someone who has been described as one of the most influential speakers in the Church of Scotland. At least that is what his mum tells him. Today there were two acts of worship, but I'm counting them together as I did both of them. Fieldside is a rural congregation, small in number on a Sunday morning, but with a great spiritual warmth. And their social evenings just can't be beaten.
Lane End is on the edge of two towns, that through expansion have merged into one. It's what Mrs Gerbil and I would describe as our home church, even if we only visit occasionally. It's good to come back occasionally as the people are great, and the downside of this ministry thing is that we do miss seeing them.
Last Sunday I emailed my minister and asked if I could have a shot at doing a service, just to keep my hand in. No problems, he replied. how about the 18th? No problems said I, not realising the week would conspire against me. So the lesson for the week is that, I'm going to be a Minister of Word and Sacrament. And whatever happens, the Word has to go out at 9.30 and 11.00 on the Sunday. Time management is essential.
I tried something new today. Actually it was "borrowed" from Highland Cathedral, but it worked there. I had a quiet hymn, sitting down, followed by a minute of silence. This lead into the prayers of intercession and I asked the congregation to use it to reflect on events in their lives and in the lives of those around them. I had warned the organists beforehand of my plans and asked them to use quiet voices when they played the hymns.
For the readings I selected five short verses to use, but I gave the readers a script to read from, so they didn't have to spend ages looking up pages in the lectern bible.
The feedback at the door at Lane End was positive, and not just from those trying to be polite. There was no feedback at the door at Fieldside, as tea is served in the side aisle, so nobody leaves immediately. A short pause at the door, then I went and got my brew as well. Feedback is better with a cuppa in your hand.
But there was something different today. I preached at both congregations the week before my selection, but this time it just felt like i was actually meant to be there. I wasn't just spot from the Worship Group, or spottheprojectionist, I am trainee spotthereverendgerbil. Now that's an odd feeling.
The sermon, for those interested is below. I have to write my sermons out in full, even though I will only use it as a guide when I'm talking. This is very much the rough cut. The gospel readings this is based on are:
Matthew 4:1-2
Luke 6:12-13
Matthew 14:23
Luke 5:15-16
Matthew 26:36
Sermon
[After the previous hymn, insert painfully long silent pause here]
There’s something just unsettling about unexpected silence. I was wondering how long I could keep silent?
I’ve got no plans for the afternoon, does anyone fancy forming a silent order?
The thing about modern life is, it’s so noisy. Even taking a pause in church this morning, the traffic is still going by outside. In my office, I have two computers on my desk, ancient machines that have massive cooling fans. There is a background roar in my office as 120 machines drone on. Yet, when people have gone home, and everything is shut down, the office feels alien, abnormal.
And it seems like everyone today is wearing headphones, replacing the outside noise for their own personal soundtrack. How often do you experience genuine, peaceful quiet? And when you do, how does it make you feel? Do you need to have the radio on in the background. Do we need to block out the noise of the world with more noise?
A couple of years ago, the BBC showed a programme where a Benedictine Monk, Father Cristopher Jamieson, took a group of ordinary people, some religious, some not, through a process to introduce a bit of silence in their lives. The culmination of the series was an eight day silent retreat where the participants had only a mentor to talk to. The rest of the time was spent in silence.
One of the participants, the owner of two successful businesses said that he had been all over the world and tried many things but he had never found fulfilment. He seemed to struggle early on, but towards the end of his stay, silence just seemed so right for him. In his own words:
“It’s now a friend, rather than a foe. But it’s really difficult to explain that to people, cause you have to go there. It’s like, you can’t explain bungee jumping or parachuting or anything like that. You have to do it. If you watch someone who is going to parachute for the first time, they are terrified, and then afterwards they are exhilarated, and silence has been a bit like that for me.”
This morning I picked out a selection of readings from the New Testament. I’m not trying to play biblical tricks, and I’m not picking readings out of context to elaborate an obscure point. I could have selected a few more of a similar nature. The bible is clear that, before Jesus started his ministry, before he made the decision about which of the disciples became apostles, throughout his entire ministry, and before he went to his death, Jesus took time to retreat on his own. He sought his space to listen to God. Even God’s son, needs time alone to take stock of events and pray to God.
If the phone rings, you switch off the radio to answer the call. You remove the distractions to hear the message. So how do you get rid of your distractions. Where is your space? Where do you go to listen to God? When is your quiet time?
Well I try to have a quiet time.
I’m writing this late on Thursday night. Mrs Gerbil has gone to her bed, and this is my time. My bit of quiet, reflective time. Normally at this time, I’m reading, catching up on the news, or some of the online diaries I read. Or I’ll switch the whole lot off and just have some totally quiet time. But tonight, I’ve had a really rough day. Something has happened today that has left me a bit shaken up. I just don’t want quiet. I’ve got some music playing in the background because the quiet is just too loud. There’s a time for silence, but there’s also a time when I need AC/DC cranked up to eleven.
Complete silence isn’t for everyone, and for those that do seek it out, it’s not what you want all the time.
When we enter into periods of silence, we start to see things with greater clarity. We come to know ourselves, and get in touch with the deepest part of ourselves. That is our soul.
But where is God in all of this. Well this is from the first book of Kings, where Elijah is off in the wilderness.
“There he went into a cave to spend the night.
Suddenly the Lord spoke to him, “Elijah, what are you doing here?”
He answered, “Lord God Almighty, I have always served you—you alone. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed all your prophets. I am the only one left—and they are trying to kill me!”
“Go out and stand before me on top of the mountain,” the Lord said to him. Then the Lord passed by and sent a furious wind that split the hills and shattered the rocks—but the Lord was not in the wind. The wind stopped blowing, and then there was an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was a fire—but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the soft whisper of a voice.
Not in the furious earth shattering wind.
Not in the earthquake.
Not in the fire.
But in the still small quiet voice.
The quiet voice.
So find your space. Find your quiet. Say “here I am Lord.” And listen. Listen carefully, because god is whispering to you.
Because silence is the gateway to the soul, and the soul is the gateway to God.
Thursday 15 November 2012
Today
I phoned in sick to work today. I've done something unhealthy to my back and there was no way I could manage a day of lifting and moving boxes of files, or of sitting in an office chair without swearing after every movement. So I went into town to pay a visit to the pharmacological chest of wonders that is Boots.
On the way back there is a bit of a traffic jam. Something wasn't right, and as I passed one car, there was a man laid out on the pavement with a couple of people standing over him. I stopped my car, got out, instinctively reaching for the first aid kit under my seat. Except that I'm in a hire car due to my own car being written off.
I got out and while I'm trying to check for a pulse and breathing, something just isn't right. A doctor arrived from the surgery, followed by another carrying a small emergency defibrillator. The doctor and I rolled the man onto his back and she commenced chest compressions while doctor 2 started connecting leads. As we did this, the ambulance arrived, and we lifted the man onto the stretcher. I adjusted the mans head to make sure his airway remained opened. After a couple of minutes of compressions I took over. Believe me it's a lot of work, and it's a very unpleasant experience for all parties.
The ambulance crew load the man and take off in the direction of the city centre. Our small huddle of strangers that tried to help, all compare notes. One lady is exceptionally shaken up, and I'm not too happy in myself either. I try to head for home, but once I get there, I feel the need to go to the hospital. There's something not right about leaving a nameless person, so I turn around and head in the opposite direction. Arriving at A&E, after a tortuous trip through the maze of old and new buildings, the receptionist contacts one of the doctors. I gave him as much information as I could, and I left my details should the family need to contact me. All I know at this stage is the man is still alive, but still in danger
I'm now back at home. The family have called, asking for more information, as this is a mystery to them too. I try to help, but all I know is he wasn't hit by a car, he was just on the pavement when everyone stopped to help. I now know his name, and I've been asked to call his wife over the weekend.
It was only the other year that I went through the basic lifesaving course at work. I never thought I would ever be involved in using a defibrillator in real life.
I've done what I can. Perhaps in hindsight we could have rolled him over sooner, but not much sooner, so I think it went as well as could have been expected. Having a group of doctors on hand makes life easier.
So whatever organisation you are involved with, take an hour of your time and do a lifesaving course together.
Oh crap.
On the way back there is a bit of a traffic jam. Something wasn't right, and as I passed one car, there was a man laid out on the pavement with a couple of people standing over him. I stopped my car, got out, instinctively reaching for the first aid kit under my seat. Except that I'm in a hire car due to my own car being written off.
I got out and while I'm trying to check for a pulse and breathing, something just isn't right. A doctor arrived from the surgery, followed by another carrying a small emergency defibrillator. The doctor and I rolled the man onto his back and she commenced chest compressions while doctor 2 started connecting leads. As we did this, the ambulance arrived, and we lifted the man onto the stretcher. I adjusted the mans head to make sure his airway remained opened. After a couple of minutes of compressions I took over. Believe me it's a lot of work, and it's a very unpleasant experience for all parties.
The ambulance crew load the man and take off in the direction of the city centre. Our small huddle of strangers that tried to help, all compare notes. One lady is exceptionally shaken up, and I'm not too happy in myself either. I try to head for home, but once I get there, I feel the need to go to the hospital. There's something not right about leaving a nameless person, so I turn around and head in the opposite direction. Arriving at A&E, after a tortuous trip through the maze of old and new buildings, the receptionist contacts one of the doctors. I gave him as much information as I could, and I left my details should the family need to contact me. All I know at this stage is the man is still alive, but still in danger
I'm now back at home. The family have called, asking for more information, as this is a mystery to them too. I try to help, but all I know is he wasn't hit by a car, he was just on the pavement when everyone stopped to help. I now know his name, and I've been asked to call his wife over the weekend.
It was only the other year that I went through the basic lifesaving course at work. I never thought I would ever be involved in using a defibrillator in real life.
I've done what I can. Perhaps in hindsight we could have rolled him over sooner, but not much sooner, so I think it went as well as could have been expected. Having a group of doctors on hand makes life easier.
So whatever organisation you are involved with, take an hour of your time and do a lifesaving course together.
Oh crap.
Wednesday 14 November 2012
When a Gerbil Prays for a Cat.
"Spot, can you remember to pray for Anita's cat."
Now Anita is a lovely person, but there's a whole load of serious medical things wrong with her. The thing is though, you would be hard pressed to tell, as she is exceptionally active, and just gets on with life. People with minor colds complain more than Anita, she is just an oustanding person, and I hardly know her, but what I do know is inspiring. She certainly puts everyone else before her needs. A genuine loving Christian.
Her cat is a bit of stability in her life. She always wanted a cat, so now she has a companion. But her cat is sick. It's been in the vets for a couple of days, and it's not well at all.
Folk are worried about Anita being upset, or about the health of Anita if the cat is sick or dies. And that's before we think about vet bills.
Some people think that praying for a cat is sacreligeous, but for others, through praying for the welfare of a cat, we are praying for the welfare of our friend. Sometimes the smallest things make a big difference in a life. So in the interest of Anita...
Dear God,
There's this cat...
Monday 12 November 2012
Fifty Acts. The Eleventh.
Remembrance Sunday saw me in the city centre at one of the war memorials. This was the large commemoration where members of the armed forces, civic dignitaries and representatives from the local schools were gathered. This was one act where I didn't get time for much of a chat afterwards, but one lady mentioned to me of a relative who died at Arras in WW1, and of her family trying to find out the full story of what happened to her great grandfather.
Remembrance Sunday is one event where there may be people gathered in a congregation who do not have a regular church connection. But, this is their war memorial, so they will attend, whether the commemoration is in a church, outside at the memorial in the church yard or at a town memorial. It's not a place for innovation, as there is an expectation of the same simple reflective ceremony. And needless to say, timing is essential.
Today, in the stillness of the eleventh hour silence, two buglers sounded, one near me, and another at a memorial some distance away, a reminder that this is not an isolated commemoration. And as the ceremony closed, a piper began playing, almost immediately joined by another piper, playing at a third commemoration, the two pipers playing the same tune, gave the morning a mournful, reflctive air.
I'll leave you with four holes in a block of stone. These are the empty holes left when railings were taken down during WW2 to be made into weaponry. Rumour has it, however that thery got so much iron that some of it was dumped in the Thames. Every time you see a hole where a railing used to be, think of a person who still has a hole in their lives as a result of someone's death in conflict.
Because there's far more damaged lives than there are damaged railings.
Remembrance Sunday is one event where there may be people gathered in a congregation who do not have a regular church connection. But, this is their war memorial, so they will attend, whether the commemoration is in a church, outside at the memorial in the church yard or at a town memorial. It's not a place for innovation, as there is an expectation of the same simple reflective ceremony. And needless to say, timing is essential.
Today, in the stillness of the eleventh hour silence, two buglers sounded, one near me, and another at a memorial some distance away, a reminder that this is not an isolated commemoration. And as the ceremony closed, a piper began playing, almost immediately joined by another piper, playing at a third commemoration, the two pipers playing the same tune, gave the morning a mournful, reflctive air.
Because there's far more damaged lives than there are damaged railings.
Thursday 8 November 2012
Slog
I'm not doing that well with the academic study. The marks are fine so far, but the actual study is an unpleasant slog, a chore and something I'm beginning to resent.
Last year I studied the early church and I got on reasonably well. This year I am doing Mark's Gospel and Sacramental Theology, and despite picking subjects that I thought would be interesting, I'm just not enjoying it. And I've got a few years of this to come. Marvelous. I was really looking forward to the study part, as I like a bit of history, so digging around in books should have came easy. But this is just a battle.
In the past couple of weeks I have went from aiming for top marks to instead just planning on submitting any old tat of an essay just to pass.
Distance learning is a very lonely place, as you don't have the fellowship of a group of students studying the same topic to bounce ideas off, outwith the confines of the fortnightly conference call.
Sorry. I had to get that out in the open.
Last year I studied the early church and I got on reasonably well. This year I am doing Mark's Gospel and Sacramental Theology, and despite picking subjects that I thought would be interesting, I'm just not enjoying it. And I've got a few years of this to come. Marvelous. I was really looking forward to the study part, as I like a bit of history, so digging around in books should have came easy. But this is just a battle.
In the past couple of weeks I have went from aiming for top marks to instead just planning on submitting any old tat of an essay just to pass.
Distance learning is a very lonely place, as you don't have the fellowship of a group of students studying the same topic to bounce ideas off, outwith the confines of the fortnightly conference call.
Sorry. I had to get that out in the open.
Wednesday 7 November 2012
The Coffee Chain Replies.
In yesterday's post I bemoaned Christmas starting early in my office tea bar. Well I must give the company in question the right of reply.
"Dear Spot,
Thank you so much for your email and your feedback about our 2012 Christmas campaign.
Every year we carry out customer research to gauge how we should launch Christmas and when we should start talking to our customers about it. Our market research tells us that the start of November is the right time in order to get people feeling "Christmassy" while they are out shopping and making preparations. This timing is in line with most major UK retailers. A number of customers contact us even earlier than November to find out about our range of festive treats and drink flavours and when they will be available in our stores.
We do appreciate that not everyone feels the same way, and for this reason we still offer all our regular drink products in conjunction with the Christmas specialties.
Thank you again for your feedback which we will be forwarded to the wider Marketing Team for consideration when they conduct their Christmas Review.
Many thanks,"
So the question I must ask is who are these people who actually want the Christmas marketing to start so early?
"Dear Spot,
Thank you so much for your email and your feedback about our 2012 Christmas campaign.
Every year we carry out customer research to gauge how we should launch Christmas and when we should start talking to our customers about it. Our market research tells us that the start of November is the right time in order to get people feeling "Christmassy" while they are out shopping and making preparations. This timing is in line with most major UK retailers. A number of customers contact us even earlier than November to find out about our range of festive treats and drink flavours and when they will be available in our stores.
We do appreciate that not everyone feels the same way, and for this reason we still offer all our regular drink products in conjunction with the Christmas specialties.
Thank you again for your feedback which we will be forwarded to the wider Marketing Team for consideration when they conduct their Christmas Review.
Many thanks,"
So the question I must ask is who are these people who actually want the Christmas marketing to start so early?
Tuesday 6 November 2012
Counting The Cost at Christmas.
A letter regarding Christmas marketing.
Dear [well known coffee chain], Your coffee is exceptionally good, although I will confess to being a tea man myself. (Earl Grey, hot.)
Why do you feel the need to jump on the Christmas bandwagon so early in the season? My office tea bar has a mini [coffee chain] franchise, and today I discovered they had moved over to the [coffee chain] Christmas branded cups and promotional materials. When I queried this, I was advised that the use of these cups and flyers was a condition of being part of your group.
It’s not that I’m anti Christmas, but I think it’s pretty unimaginative of your marketing people to centre your promotional efforts around Christmas so early on the year. At least in the USA, Thanksgiving comes before Christmas, but in the UK, there’s no other holidays to stop the progressive seasonal creep of the festive season. And, sadly, I will not be stocking up on your products prior to Christmas. I’d love to give the gift of a skinny latte, but they are too hard to post, so I’ll probably settle for gift vouchers instead.
What about the other things November has to offer? Why not show more support for Remembrance Sunday on the 11th? Or why not do a push for St Andrews day? Leave Christmas for the season of Advent. How about four special brews for the four weeks leading up to Christmas? You could launch this with a big push at the start of December. Make it something to talk about, the shop that dares to be different. Come on, [coffee chain], Be unique. Be daring. Be original. Then you won’t be spending a large chunk of the year being the same as every other unimaginative outlet on the high street.
Kind regards,
spotthegerbil
(Their reply has arrived. I'll publish tomorrow)
Dear [well known coffee chain], Your coffee is exceptionally good, although I will confess to being a tea man myself. (Earl Grey, hot.)
Why do you feel the need to jump on the Christmas bandwagon so early in the season? My office tea bar has a mini [coffee chain] franchise, and today I discovered they had moved over to the [coffee chain] Christmas branded cups and promotional materials. When I queried this, I was advised that the use of these cups and flyers was a condition of being part of your group.
It’s not that I’m anti Christmas, but I think it’s pretty unimaginative of your marketing people to centre your promotional efforts around Christmas so early on the year. At least in the USA, Thanksgiving comes before Christmas, but in the UK, there’s no other holidays to stop the progressive seasonal creep of the festive season. And, sadly, I will not be stocking up on your products prior to Christmas. I’d love to give the gift of a skinny latte, but they are too hard to post, so I’ll probably settle for gift vouchers instead.
What about the other things November has to offer? Why not show more support for Remembrance Sunday on the 11th? Or why not do a push for St Andrews day? Leave Christmas for the season of Advent. How about four special brews for the four weeks leading up to Christmas? You could launch this with a big push at the start of December. Make it something to talk about, the shop that dares to be different. Come on, [coffee chain], Be unique. Be daring. Be original. Then you won’t be spending a large chunk of the year being the same as every other unimaginative outlet on the high street.
Kind regards,
spotthegerbil
(Their reply has arrived. I'll publish tomorrow)
Sunday 4 November 2012
Fifty Acts 9. Joining the Choir.
So finally I got along to the Catholic (capital C) church after my attempt from last week. This is another first for me, as I've never been to a Mass before, although I have been to two Catholic weddings.
The Catholic church is located just along the road from the Episcopal and Baptist churches that I've been welcomed to in previous weeks. Now I know there's a little bit more ceremony than I'm used to in worship, so I'm just going to have to pay attention and do what everyone else is doing. I take a seat just in front of the organ, and just behind a pillar so I'm out of the way.
The building has a Norman feel to it, (apparently it's Norman with a hint of Gothic) with statuary all around, and some amazingly detailed stations of the cross. I'm not too big a fan of human sculpture in churches, as it's always a bunch of European white guys carved to depict some Middle Eastern figures. That said, they were very well done, and the stone altarpiece carvings had a hint of Henry Moore.
The congregation was a complete mix of ages, from the very youngest to the very oldest, and the children were clearly welcomed. There was not the hissed intakes of breath when one of them dared make a sound, and even when one escaped and started crawling up the aisle, the reaction was more "awww" than "eeew."
So the service begins, and I'm doing quite well following along. The sermon was on a theme of the greatest commandment, and the priest said that keeping the two greatest commandments is far more important than how many masses you attend. He did observe that Scottish Catholics were often a dour bunch, not aspiring to much in the afterlife and hoping that the best they could wish for would be a place in purgatory. This sounds like many CofS members I have met! It's good to know we are all alike. We need to set our aim higher.
(The whole idea of purgatory and saints intervening for our redemption just isn't me. Souls are not like Scrabble tiles, stored on a rack until a triple word score comes into play. You're dead. God alone decides whether it's the stairway or the highway.)
So I'm following the service up to the point that people start going forward to receive Communion. The rows in front of me have emptied, as everyone queues in the aisle. The organ starts up and a hymn begins, so, like the person behind me, I stand too, but she gave me a puzzled look. I start singing along, only realising that the front row has been served the elements, and when they return to their pews, they kneel back down. Well there was nothing for it, I just sang along with, what I now know was the choir... We got to the end of the hymn, and the choir lady behind me thanked me for the support. At the end of the service, the ladies behind me thanked me for joining in, and asked if I would like to join the choir! I had to let them down gently, telling them that I wasn't a Catholic (not a problem) I can't sing (apparently that is optional) and I'm training for the CofS ministry. Even that wasn't enough to dissuade them!
I was chatting with the priest (and my new choir mates) after the service, and yet again, it showed that we have so much in common, although a deeper understanding of each others position would go a long way. While I was aware that I may not receive Communion, although I could have gone up and received a blessing, my choir friend wasn't aware that CofS communion is open to all Christians. She now knows that she would be welcomed into a CofS church when she is on holiday, rather than driving 14 miles on a single track road to go to the nearest Catholic church where she may be welcomed. In the same way that I was welcomed today, I hope she finds a welcome wherever she travels.
Because wherever you are, the two greatest commandments remain the same.
The Catholic church is located just along the road from the Episcopal and Baptist churches that I've been welcomed to in previous weeks. Now I know there's a little bit more ceremony than I'm used to in worship, so I'm just going to have to pay attention and do what everyone else is doing. I take a seat just in front of the organ, and just behind a pillar so I'm out of the way.
The building has a Norman feel to it, (apparently it's Norman with a hint of Gothic) with statuary all around, and some amazingly detailed stations of the cross. I'm not too big a fan of human sculpture in churches, as it's always a bunch of European white guys carved to depict some Middle Eastern figures. That said, they were very well done, and the stone altarpiece carvings had a hint of Henry Moore.
The congregation was a complete mix of ages, from the very youngest to the very oldest, and the children were clearly welcomed. There was not the hissed intakes of breath when one of them dared make a sound, and even when one escaped and started crawling up the aisle, the reaction was more "awww" than "eeew."
So the service begins, and I'm doing quite well following along. The sermon was on a theme of the greatest commandment, and the priest said that keeping the two greatest commandments is far more important than how many masses you attend. He did observe that Scottish Catholics were often a dour bunch, not aspiring to much in the afterlife and hoping that the best they could wish for would be a place in purgatory. This sounds like many CofS members I have met! It's good to know we are all alike. We need to set our aim higher.
(The whole idea of purgatory and saints intervening for our redemption just isn't me. Souls are not like Scrabble tiles, stored on a rack until a triple word score comes into play. You're dead. God alone decides whether it's the stairway or the highway.)
So I'm following the service up to the point that people start going forward to receive Communion. The rows in front of me have emptied, as everyone queues in the aisle. The organ starts up and a hymn begins, so, like the person behind me, I stand too, but she gave me a puzzled look. I start singing along, only realising that the front row has been served the elements, and when they return to their pews, they kneel back down. Well there was nothing for it, I just sang along with, what I now know was the choir... We got to the end of the hymn, and the choir lady behind me thanked me for the support. At the end of the service, the ladies behind me thanked me for joining in, and asked if I would like to join the choir! I had to let them down gently, telling them that I wasn't a Catholic (not a problem) I can't sing (apparently that is optional) and I'm training for the CofS ministry. Even that wasn't enough to dissuade them!
I was chatting with the priest (and my new choir mates) after the service, and yet again, it showed that we have so much in common, although a deeper understanding of each others position would go a long way. While I was aware that I may not receive Communion, although I could have gone up and received a blessing, my choir friend wasn't aware that CofS communion is open to all Christians. She now knows that she would be welcomed into a CofS church when she is on holiday, rather than driving 14 miles on a single track road to go to the nearest Catholic church where she may be welcomed. In the same way that I was welcomed today, I hope she finds a welcome wherever she travels.
Because wherever you are, the two greatest commandments remain the same.
Friday 2 November 2012
Fifty Acts 8. Lunch with St Giles
Today I took a half day from work and ventured into the city centre. I needed a bit of a re-charge, so I went into St Giles for the lunchtime service.
Arriving early I sat in the east end and observed those around me. St Giles is a busy place, with tourists wandering in all directions. An excited gaggle gathered around the Thistle Chapel, although it was going to be a tight squeeze if they all went in. Work is underway to replace the floor at the west end, so a poly-tunnel covers part of that end, keeping the dust in and the tourists out.
Two workmen were fighing a race against time to dismantle a scaffolding tower in front of the pulpit before the noon service started. The scaffolding tower took exception to this, and every component resisted removal.
The servicce starts as the twelfth noon day bell dies down. It's a 15 minute service of readings, prayers and a short homily. While a kirk on the Royal Mile will rarely fall completely silent, there was a stillness fell as the minister ascended the pulpit stairs. One of the workmen retreated off to one side, a scaffolding pole under his arm, 1/4 of the tower resisting demolition. Half time score, Tower 1, workmen 0, game to resume in 15 minutes.
15 minutes isn't a vast amount of time, but it's how you use it that matters. The minister delivered a service that was very compact, yet it wasn't rushed. There was certainly much to be learned from his delivery.
It's just a shame that my office is currently too far from the city centre or I'd drop in more often.
Secret tip (not that secret, it's in the tour guide.) Go round the back of the organ and there's a large window. To the right of the window, up high there's a button. Press it and the insides of the organ light up. While it's a joy to hear that organ played, it's amazing to look at the craftsmanship of the workings.
Arriving early I sat in the east end and observed those around me. St Giles is a busy place, with tourists wandering in all directions. An excited gaggle gathered around the Thistle Chapel, although it was going to be a tight squeeze if they all went in. Work is underway to replace the floor at the west end, so a poly-tunnel covers part of that end, keeping the dust in and the tourists out.
Two workmen were fighing a race against time to dismantle a scaffolding tower in front of the pulpit before the noon service started. The scaffolding tower took exception to this, and every component resisted removal.
The servicce starts as the twelfth noon day bell dies down. It's a 15 minute service of readings, prayers and a short homily. While a kirk on the Royal Mile will rarely fall completely silent, there was a stillness fell as the minister ascended the pulpit stairs. One of the workmen retreated off to one side, a scaffolding pole under his arm, 1/4 of the tower resisting demolition. Half time score, Tower 1, workmen 0, game to resume in 15 minutes.
15 minutes isn't a vast amount of time, but it's how you use it that matters. The minister delivered a service that was very compact, yet it wasn't rushed. There was certainly much to be learned from his delivery.
It's just a shame that my office is currently too far from the city centre or I'd drop in more often.
Secret tip (not that secret, it's in the tour guide.) Go round the back of the organ and there's a large window. To the right of the window, up high there's a button. Press it and the insides of the organ light up. While it's a joy to hear that organ played, it's amazing to look at the craftsmanship of the workings.
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Being Born Again Through Baptism (part one)
"Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." (John 3:3)
In one of those conversations that takes legs of its own, I was chatting with a man at the weekend, and the subject of baptism, and being born again came up. (Conversation used to be so much easier when it was all beer and fast bikes.) He had joined a quite outgoing sort of church, but occasionally felt a bit left out. Every now and again, an adult would come forward to be baptised, and they would give a testimony of their life so far. Some of these testimonies could be quite revealing, but they would build towards a point where they encountered God, turned away from whatever wrongs they had committed and through their baptism cleansed of all previous sin.
Now the two of us were in agreement that to stand up in front of a bunch of complete strangers, and spill out your life story takes guts, and we thought anyone in that position was taking a very brave step. But he said to me that he occasionally felt a bit uncomfortable, because he never had that sort of moment. He had never known of a time where he wasn't a believer, and while his faith may have had stronger or weaker moments, it was always with him. I'm glad he brought it up, because I've felt the same way. Does an adult baptism with a testimony of someones life make those baptised as infants feel uncomfortable? How do we avoid this discomfort? How do we get adults to identify with their baptism as a child?
And what of those who believe in re-baptism? Does this weaken the baptismal message? I know this isn't a CofS thing, but there are those for whom re-baptism is a valid idea.
And that's about as much though as I'm giving that for just now. I've just finished my essay on Mark's portrayal of the Twelve. Now I'm moving onto my Sacramental Theology essay on "Why do we baptise children?" I suppose the first thing to ascertain is who "we" are, because if I asked that question amongst some groups, the answer would be "we do not."
Plenty to think about. I may come back to this post in a few weeks.
In one of those conversations that takes legs of its own, I was chatting with a man at the weekend, and the subject of baptism, and being born again came up. (Conversation used to be so much easier when it was all beer and fast bikes.) He had joined a quite outgoing sort of church, but occasionally felt a bit left out. Every now and again, an adult would come forward to be baptised, and they would give a testimony of their life so far. Some of these testimonies could be quite revealing, but they would build towards a point where they encountered God, turned away from whatever wrongs they had committed and through their baptism cleansed of all previous sin.
Now the two of us were in agreement that to stand up in front of a bunch of complete strangers, and spill out your life story takes guts, and we thought anyone in that position was taking a very brave step. But he said to me that he occasionally felt a bit uncomfortable, because he never had that sort of moment. He had never known of a time where he wasn't a believer, and while his faith may have had stronger or weaker moments, it was always with him. I'm glad he brought it up, because I've felt the same way. Does an adult baptism with a testimony of someones life make those baptised as infants feel uncomfortable? How do we avoid this discomfort? How do we get adults to identify with their baptism as a child?
And what of those who believe in re-baptism? Does this weaken the baptismal message? I know this isn't a CofS thing, but there are those for whom re-baptism is a valid idea.
And that's about as much though as I'm giving that for just now. I've just finished my essay on Mark's portrayal of the Twelve. Now I'm moving onto my Sacramental Theology essay on "Why do we baptise children?" I suppose the first thing to ascertain is who "we" are, because if I asked that question amongst some groups, the answer would be "we do not."
Plenty to think about. I may come back to this post in a few weeks.
Monday 29 October 2012
Fifty Acts 7. An Episcopal Adventure.
I had planned on going to the Catholic Church
yesterday. From the City Centre, I started walking towards the Catholics,
when a little voice said “go to the Episcopal service.” Ignoring it, it
came back again. “Episcopal.” The more I thought about going
towards the Catholic church, the more I’m being told that Episcopal is where I
need to be. I’m not going to have to go out of my way to get there, as
I’m going to walk past the Episcopals, but my plan for this Sunday was
Catholic, and that was where I was headed. The voice felt about as
present as the voice that got me into this whole ministry thing in the first
place. So at the pedestrian crossing, I give in and cross the road,
agreeing that I will go in, but only if the service is at 11am. I am not
walking in late.
So a few minutes later and I’m inside my first
Scottish Episcopal service. This really is a new experience for me.
I’ve done a couple of Church of England services, so I’m aware that the three
books in front of me are going to come into use soon enough, guided by the
order of service. I decide to keep an eye on the person who is sitting in
front of me and I’ll stand when they stand, sit when they sit, and otherwise
pay attention. Inevitably I get lost, and I’m looking up the wrong book
at the wrong time. I’m not organised enough for an Episcopal
service. Anything could happen if I tried to lead one.
The service of Sung Eucharist begins, and the priest,
server and choir proceeds in. There’s plenty of reverence for the
communion elements, and as far as I’m lead to believe, to Episcopaleans, that
really is the body and blood of Christ up there. It’s while I’m sitting
there that I realise I’ve not really given all this a lot of thought, despite
studying sacramental theology. And I’m probably not all that Reformed™
because I’m not all that sure what I’m supposed to be reformed from. So
as the service progresses, I came to realise that, perhaps that really is
Christ up there. As Christ can be in all things, then if we truly believe
he’s there, then maybe he is.
The order of service states that Eucharist is open to
all in their tradition, but I’m not that keen on going up to receive.
Partly because I’m not wanting to get something wrong and upset the spiritual
calm of my fellow worshipers, but partly because I’m not entirely convinced
that I’m happy about receiving lumps of Jesus. I don’t feel spiritually
clean, so I adopt a middle ages position and receive ocular communion – I’ve
seen, I’ve been present and I’m saved.
Unfortunately, in a small congregation, it’s hard to
be unobserved. When I was chatting with the priest afterwards, a very
pleasant chap who is retired and was filling in due to a vacancy, he did
mention that it’s open to all and I was welcome. I told him of my concern for
my fellow worshipers, but he did say they wouldn’t mind. Perhaps next
time. We discussed the presence of Christ in the elements, and he told me
of a quote from Queen Elizabeth the First of England:
Christ was the word that spake it.
He took the bread and break it.
And what his words did make it
That I believe and take it.
In the service, there was a reading from Jeremiah and
a reading from the Gospel, yet the priest said that he wasn’t going to base his
sermon on those readings, but from a different part of Jeremiah. (I
should have asked if he was obliged to have the original readings and wasn’t
allowed to deviate.) The reading he chose was around Jeremiah 37:17
where Zedekiah asks “Is there any word from the Lord?”
Well as I’m sitting there, I’m thinking to myself, I
don’t know about you Jeremiah, but the words of the day seems to be “Try
Episcopal”
Next week may be Catholic, but I’m starting to think
I’m getting sent places for a reason.
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