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?
Thursday 22 November 2012
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.
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