Catching up

Another of my readers pointed out that my web-clock was an hour slow!
I wondered how long it might take for someone to notice.
Actually... to be honest, I just couldn't be bothered correcting it. But now that it has been pointed out, I have made the necessary changes. Hopefully now it is showing the correct time.

Long pointy beard

One of our younger readers made the observation that the orchid pictured in the previous post looks "like a man with a long pointy beard!" I'm sure she must have been referring to the above Yosemite Sam from the Looney Tunes cartoons.
However, you may have some alternative suggestions as to the resemblance.
I'd like to hear about them. Just don't tell me that it looks like ME!

The princesses of the palace

Well, I shook the dust off my camera case and, at long last, gave my camera an outing. We headed into the city (Glasgow) to the Kibble Palace (part of the Botanic Gardens) for an "orchid fair" that was taking place there over the weekend. The Kibble Palace itself is always worth a visit, especially after its recent restoration.
It took me back more than a few years because when I was a student in Glasgow I often used to go there to eat my lunch.
However, on this occasion, the main focus of attention was the Orchid Fair that was taking place - an opportunity for orchid growers from all around the country to display their prize specimens.
There were two things that I really enjoyed about the exhibition- the first (perhaps rather obviously) was the collection of orchids themselves, in all their incredible variety; the second was the enthusiasm of the growers as they spoke to visitors about their plants and how they looked after them.
I almost always respond to enthusiasm. I know that some people who have particular interests and passions can sometimes be a real bore but most of the time the enthusiasm of people is infectious, especially when such people are not trying to show off their superior knowledge but are simply expressing their own love for whatever has grabbed their interest.
When it comes to people trying to share their faith you get both types. Sadly there are more than a few who could bore the pants off anybody when they start talking about what they believe- some can even be quite offensive and a real turn-off- but people with a genuine passion for their beliefs who are not trying to belittle others or bully them into sharing their beliefs can often discover that their enthusiasm is infectious too.
Anyway, enough of that and back to the orchids.
They come in such an astonishing variety of colours and shapes that I was mightily relieved that digital photography had been invented- otherwise I would have shot off four rolls of film in half an hour and not been able to afford the cost of developing the prints. 120 digital photographs however costs nothing to look at one the computer screen.
Of course, I have absolutely no idea what variety any of the particular orchids were, including the one pictured above, but I just marvelled at their beauty and thought to myself - no wonder people get enthusiastic about them!
All the same, I am not about to take up orchid growing myself. I know my limitations!

Hot under the collar

Those who know me will be aware that I am not someone who likes to get dressed up in clerical attire. Personally, I think that "dog collars" suit dogs better than people (although dogs may think differently.) The one situation where wearing the "dog collar" sometimes comes in useful is in hospital visiting. It can act as a passport to visiting someone outside of normal visiting times. However, yesterday I did visit someone in hospital, outside of visiting hours, wearing a perfectly ordinary shirt and tie (even though I have to admit that the tie is almost as absurd and useless as a dog collar.) I simply explained that I was the patient's minister and my explanation was readily accepted. (Maybe that means I look like a minister??)
The only other times I tend to wear a clerical collar are when conducting funerals or weddings (in the case of the latter it goes well with my kilt.)
My reasons for not going in much for clerical attire have nothing at all to do with fashion. (Again, anyone who knows me will realise that I know next to nothing about what is fashionable.)
It is simply that I believe in a relational, rather than a formal, style of ministry, so it is important to have as few barriers as possible between me and other people. I think God works best through our own individual personalities which, after all, are his gift to us, rather than through any kind of 'uniform' that suppresses who we are and gives us a formal status.
I realise of course that many people (including no doubt a number of my own congregation) will see things quite differently.
I respect their views.
After writing the above and while "googling" the net for a suitable picture to go with it, I came across this blog post which raises similar issues but much more eloquently. I have to say, however, that unlike Elizabeth MacFarlane I have rarely if ever suffered any kind of abuse while wearing the collar: I just think it gets in the way of real conversations.
Still on the subject of clerical attire, I am grateful to Steve Tilley for pointing me to this video that gave me such a laugh.

Quiet strength

The image above from Japan shows a famous cherry tree whose roots have split a massive granite rock in two.

Had a busy but enjoyable day yesterday preaching in my own church in the morning and in the local baptist Church in the evening.
In my morning sermon I quoted a song/hymn I had written some years ago but had forgotten all about- a reminder that there are different kinds of strength, other than brute force.

O Lord, in your weakness you were strong
As you stood on trial for love.
You wouldn't give in to fear or anger;
your heart would only forgive.

At the mocking of kings and jeering of soldiers,
your dignity was abused;
yet love was the answer you silently gave:
Let it be Your way that we choose.

O Lord in your silence you spoke boldly;
the world had nothing to say.
A whole new Creation, from your dying,
came into being that day.

While the scoffers and cynics
still have their moments,
and faithful ones are confused,
your love is the answer you silently give:
Let it be your way that we choose.
(c) Iain D. Cunningham

Reflection

I'm a bit short on inspiration these days. Just too many things that have to be done by strict deadlines. However, someone in my congregation just passed on to me last night a meditation/reflection that she wrote, although what she actually said was: "I held the pen."
If you are feeling a bit fragile, fearful or unsure of the future, think of this as God's message to you today.

The photo is of one of the beautiful beaches on Islay

I have no eyes to see what you hold in your heart,
you cannot feel me until you let go of your fear,
you will never come to harm so long as you have me.
Take my hand and feel my love,
embrace the gift I have given you,
feel the light in your heart
and know that I am always with you giving you strength.
Take time and I will give you joy.
Through me you will know yourself,
you cannot help but know me,
I am with you all of your life,
and beyond.
You know me just as I know you,
we are one.
Be still,
be quiet and I will come to you when you are ready.
Take time to hear my voice.
You will recognise me as you would yourself.
Through me you will know love as you never have before.
Take it!
There is always more.
You will never be shut off from me.
There is always more.
Bring yourself closer to me,
feel my presence with you.
This is home.

(c) Joan Hazelwood

Who knows what goes on inside her pretty little head?

I've spoken before about our cat, Tess. She can be a strange creature sometimes - one minute very affectionate, the next fairly ferocious.
When I am working at my desk she has a habit of jumping up onto the desk and walking all over the computer keyboard (which makes for some interesting new words) before settling down usually on the pile of papers that I am working on, or else she will try to curl up on my knee which is equally distracting.
This morning she did her usual and, as often happens, her attention was drawn to the movement of the cursor on the screen. Since I wasn't going to be working with the computer at the time I decided to do something to keep her 'out of my hair' or at least off my knee. I put a DVD into the pc drive. Now, I've noticed already that Tess likes watching wildlife programmes on the telly, especially if it involves elephants, or members of the cat family. Well, this was a documentary on Mountain Lions.
It worked!
She was transfixed! She sat on the desk totally absorbed by the pictures on the screen. I'm not sure how much of the commentary she understood but I think she fancied herself prowling among the mountain regions of South America. She was definitely star-struck!
I think she could turn into a real desk potato if I let her...

[remember to click on the photo to see it full size]

Going nuts

As the above ad says "It doesn't take a sledgehammer to crack a nut" but that doesn't stop some people trying it. When I was young I don't remember us ever having a nut-cracker in the house. We did use a hammer (albeit a relatively small one) to crack open hazelnuts and walnuts. Hazelnuts usually did all right and most of the time you could recover them whole, or at worst - in two pieces. Walnuts, on the other hand, often ended up mashed, or as we used to say "in smithereens." Often you had to pick out little fragments from the broken shell which also sometimes meant you accidentally crunched into a little piece of broken shell at the eating stage of the process. Painful.
I was remembering all of this the other day at a meeting when it was made clear to us that new regulations governing charities which come into force on the 1st April (of course) now require churches to quote their charity number on near-enough every piece of paper they produce. Apparently even our weekly Order of Service bulletin has to carry the number. And every email too.
We have to blame Oscar for all of this heavy-handedness. No, not Oscar Wilde, nor Oscar Madison from the Odd Couple but OSCR - Office of the Scottish Charity Regulator.
Actually, it all stems from the actions of a charity in Scotland a few years ago that turned out to be a pretty bogus (or at best incompetently run) affair and all the regulations governing charities had to be severely tightened up. In principle, I agree with this, but sometimes you can go over the top.
It reminds me of what occasionally used to happen in school (and maybe still does) when someone in the class does something wrong but won't own up to it, so the whole class has to take the punishment.
Of course, as a law-abiding citizen, working in a church that respects civil law, we will comply in all respects. Promise!
I'll need to check, though, if there is any stipulation made about the size of the text that you must use to display your charity number. Would 2pt Arial do, I wonder?
One other consquence of the charities shake-up is that our church accounts now run to about 26 pages. A lot of fun for our church treasurer tomorrow as he tries to guide the congregation through the new style of accounts at our Annual Stated Meeting after the service.

He is risen indeed!

A HAPPY EASTER to you all!

There are some stories that I never get tired of hearing and whose novelty for me never wears off. Perhaps the greatest of these is the Easter story.
Part of the endless fascination for me of the "Easter" events described in such different terms by each of the gospel writers is the sheer mystery of it all. Not even the gospel writers themselves could really say exactly what happened, because no one witnessed the resurrection itself.
That doesn't bother me. On the contrary, it comforts me. It leaves room for faith as well as wonder. It is one of those mysteries which the more you know about it, the more mysterious it becomes. The deeper you plunge into it, the deeper it seems.
I guess the word is unfathomable.
But, you know, part of the reason why no one knows exactly what happened on that "third day" is that the resurrection took place "while it was still dark." The sun hadn't even come up by the time Mary and the other women got to the tomb to find the stone rolled away.
Could that in itself be somehow significant?
Of course, Jesus seems to have had a habit of getting up before daybreak to go off into some lonely place to pray but this takes 'getting up early' to a new dimension altogether!
What I like most about this seemingly insignificant detail of the Easter narrative though is that it reminds me of a truth we find all through the Bible... the light shines IN the darkness and the darkness can't put it out, and eventually the light grows to banish the darkness itself. It's the triumph of future hope over present circumstance.
And isn't that something we all need these days?

A bit of drama and passion

I've been getting a bit of stick lately from some people who I know regularly read this blog. The trouble is... they've had nothing new to read for ages.
I guess I could make all the usual excuses about being too busy etc. and that I have spent some of the time updating our church website but although both of these things are certainly true the more important reason is that recently I've just not had anything to say.
I know... I know... it's never stopped me before.
But there are times when you just kind of dry up, or at least need a little break.
Unfortunately, this is not an option when you have to prepare a fresh sermon or two each week. You just have to get down to it and work hard. But as far as the blog is concerned, I sometimes take the easy way out and just walk away from it for a while.
Someone who didn't give up, nor take the easy way out, was Jesus.
I've really enjoyed watching the first two episodes of the BBC's latest Drama "The Passion."
I hope the next two episodes continue the high standard. I'm looking forward to it coming out on DVD too. Tonight I watched episode two with my current Discipleship Group, which seemed especially appropriate.
I'm sure there will be some critics who will point out that the writers have introduced elements that are not in the Biblical gospels but that is inevitable and necessary for telling the story with any semblance of psychological realism. Preachers do it all the time... at least if they have any imagination! The gospels themselves give only the briefest of sketches and leave lots to your imagination.
What I like about this particular production is that the characters are relatively complex, not just cardboard cut-out 'goodies' and 'baddies.' You see that each person has choices to make - Jesus, Pilate, Caiaphas, Judas, Joseph of Arimathea etc.- and you can sympathise with all of them because their choices are not usually between simple good and bad, but between good and the best, or between evil and a lesser evil. You can understand how difficult some of the choices are and, what's more, identify with them.
I think Joseph Mawle does a reasonably good job of portraying Jesus, although he is maybe just a bit too low key. You wonder would anyone really give up everything to follow this man? Where is the charisma and excitement?
To be fair, though, we do enter the story at some of its most solemn moments when I suspect Jesus must have been pretty heavy-hearted.
No time for light-hearted frivolity then.
I'll have to wait and see how the trial and crucifixion and most of all the resurrection are handled before I give it my unqualified approval (not that the BBC is looking for it, of course) but so far, so good. And what a refreshing change from all that so-called "reality" nonsense... to have some real drama from the Beeb! Let's have some more.

The not-so-hot seat

Well, the snow has returned and this time decided to hang around for a day or two- or at least long enough for some blue sky to appear and set it off to perfection.
We don't get blue skies all that often in Scotland but when we do, then I, for one, really appreciate them.
For some reason, summer blue skies never seem quite so intense to me as a blue sky in winter set against the white snow, or the blue sky of springtime acting as a backdrop to pink cherry blossom, or in autumn when it is a foil to the spectacular reds, golds and browns of the trees.
I passed Braidwood Loch this morning on my way to Braidwood Primary School and fortunately I had my camera in the car with me. I couldn't resist stopping for a moment to capture this particular blue sky, and that pretty cool (snow-covered) seat. Well, I certainly wasn't going to sit on it.

Mind you, perhaps it would be less uncomfortable than 'sitting in the hot seat.'
But sometimes you just don't get to choose the seat you have to sit in and you have to make do with whatever comes your way, uncomfortable or not.
So maybe dark grey cloudy skies are more common, but that just means making the most of any glimpse of blue sky that comes your way and enjoying the moment.

...so maybe I will go over and sit on that cool seat after all...

Don't do it!

I suppose it was inevitable eventually but it still really, really annoys me...
Recently I've received a number of supposed "comments" on the blog... except they are not really comments, they are links to a so-called 'virus scanner' that proceeds to tell you how many bits of spyware etc. are on your computer and how you need to download their software to protect your computer... etc. etc.
In fact it is nothing but spyware itself. I am trying to intercept these bogus comments and delete them before any of you accidentally clicks on the links but I want to warn you anyway. If you see a comment that asks you to click "here" - please don't.
If this nuisance persists I may have to introduce comment moderation which would mean that comments don't appear until I have vetted them. I'd rather not do that but if I have to I will.
In the meantime keep the genuine comments coming. It's good to know that somebody actually reads this stuff now and again.

Crema de la crema

Regular readers will know that one of my favourite places to eat is a local restaurant here called "Prego." It has become a favourite place not just for special occasions but also at other times when we have no real excuse for eating out other than that we want to.

My original 'review' of Prego (the Lanark version) included the following phrase "For an Italian restaurant, the espresso could be a bit better" which was certainly true on that particular occasion. My espresso that night did not possess the necessary "crema" which as all coffee geeks know is an absolute essential if it is to deserve the name "espresso."

However, I don't think my comments pleased the restaurant owner much, as he takes a measure of pride in the coffee he offers. (You expect nothing less from any Italian restaurateur worth his salt.)

Last week he was in the Carluke branch of Prego and insisted on making my espresso himself and offering it to me "on the house." [I noticed that he also made a point of opening a fresh bag of coffee beans for the purpose.]

Well, I can report to you that on this occasion (as on most occasions it has to be said) the espresso was certainly worthy of the name, with a healthy and delightful crema.

I realise that those of you who make do with instant coffee probably haven't a clue what I am talking about. I would also like to point out that I am not a snob in any other realm... but when it comes to coffee I know and expect only the best. And if I can produce a crema on my espresso at home then I expect my Italian barista to do the same. Thankfully, I know that he can.

Two bright pimples

"In Chittagong he would live like a prince, but here he is just doing the donkey regarded his malnourished limb, the two bright pimples above the elbow."

What do you mean it doesn't make sense??

It's what I was reading when I was away on my short break.

I had bought a book at the airport (Brick Lane by Monica Ali) and I was pretty much enjoying the story. I had reached page 320 and what you see above is exactly what I read.
Of course, my first reaction was to read it again just to see if I had missed a word or two, or simply misunderstood some clever sentence construction... but no matter how many times I read it, it still made no sense.
And then I noticed...
... after page 320 came page 273 - a page which, in fact, I had already read the day before! Soon it dawned on me that a whole section of the book had the wrong pages in it.
It was a bit of a Groundhog Day moment when I realised that I had already read this particular section...

... and then the frustration kicked in.
I wasn't going to be able to continue reading the book.
Sure, the last few pages were there... but I didn't want to read the ending without reading how the story arrived at that place. (I am not one of those people who reads the end of the book first to see how it is all going to work out. I want the author to lead me to that point.)
I've had to wait until today to get a replacement for the defective book.
Unfortunately I don't have time to read it at the moment.
I only hope I can actually remember now what happened in the first 320 pages!

Life itself can be like this some times.
Things don't always work out the way you expect them to.
Sometimes you find yourself in a dead end.
Sometimes you discover it just doesn't make sense at all.
And often it seems as if some of the pages are missing, or the wrong pages have been put into the story.
That's when you need a little bit of patience... and a lot of faith to trust that one day the story will make sense.

Would you walk by...

One of my daughters had a very lucky escape on Sunday morning. Her car spun off the road and rolled over into a field, ending up facing in the opposite direction, although back on its wheels again. Had the skid happened a few seconds earlier who knows what might have happened. As it is, she emerged from the wreck unscathed - which is more than can be said for her car which is now a total write-off.
Amazing as her good fortune was, it is not, to me, the most astonishing thing about the incident. No, I reserve that description for a group of people who witnessed the whole episode.
You see all of this took place right next to the 18th Tee of Carluke Golf Course. A group of golfers were tee-ing off at the time my daughter's car spun out of control and did its tumble across the field towards them. They paused for a few seconds to look over...

... then promptly carried on with their game!!
Can you believe it?

Up and away

My friends' house is less than 10 miles from the Kennedy Space Centre (as the crow, or pelican, flies) but about 17 miles from the launch pad 39A.
It is still close enough to ensure that you don't have to go anywhere, except to the end of the road, to get a pretty spectacular view of a launch. Unfortunately, though, I don't have the sort of zoom lenses that the professionals use to photograph the event.
If you want the real thing visit the NASA site.
The launch of Atlantis was (I think) the fifth space shot I have witnessed. (Four shuttle launches and the 1975 launch of the Viking mission to Mars are what I have seen so far. I missed the very last Apollo launch by just two days.)
It is a still, to me, an awe-inspiring sight and I have nothing but admiration for the folk who allow themselves to be strapped into that vehicle on top of millions of tons of high explosive then fired upwards into the sky.
Mind you, I think it pretty routine to strap myself into the seat of a Boeing 747-400 aircraft weighing anything up to 870,000 lbs and allow myself to be launched above the clouds, entrusting the pilots, crew and ground-staff to deliver me safely back to earth exactly as planned. I guess most people a hundred years ago would have considered this to be pretty crazy.
How long, do you think, before we see space travel as routine?

Trying not to drop a clanger

My recent visit to Florida coincided happily with the launch of the Space Shuttle Atlantis (STS-122) - more of which another time. I have seen a Space Shuttle launch a number of times before and while it is always an exciting experience it was not (as I've said) an entirely new one to me.
However, what was new for me on this trip was the opportunity to be part of a bell-ringing ensemble. (The picture above shows my one-and-only 15 minute rehearsal for the event.)
I now have a little lapel button which proclaims a bit dubiously that I am a bell-ringer!
I had been asked to fill in for a regular member of the bell-ringing team who, unfortunately, was not able to take part that Sunday.
To my own surprise I found it a thoroughly enjoyable (if slightly nerve-wracking) experience. What I did not want to do was to muck up things for the rest of the ensemble. In spite of the fact that we were situated in the choir loft and invisible to most of the congregation I did not want to "drop a clanger" if you pardon the pun.
I did get the opportunity to have a 15 minute rehearsal/lesson which was just as well for there were three things that I discovered were essential: technique, timing, and (perhaps most important of all) teamwork.
There is a certain technique involved in making sure that your bell sounds its note clearly, only once, at the right moment in time and not for any longer (or shorter) than necessary. You have to start with the bells (one in each hand) facing upwards then in a sort of circular motion, down and up again, time it so that the clapper (clanger) strikes the bell once at the right moment, then you have to rest it against your shoulder at the right moment to dampen the sound. It's not too difficult but you do need to practise it a bit to get the knack. The most complicated bit is when you have adjacent notes to play and you have to dampen one bell at exactly the same time as you strike the other.
I was actually asked if I could play a third bell. Only having two hands that would have required me to put one down and very, very quickly pick the other up without accidentally ringing either bell. I declined.
I know my limitations!
Teamwork, as I said, is probably the most important thing because unlike any other musical instrument I have ever played no single bell-ringer can play the whole tune (unless the tune consists entirely of two notes!) but each single bell-ringer is required for the tune (and harmony) to be played at all.
Like the pianist who must co-ordinate the action of his/her ten fingers the whole group has to act as one.
It was an interesting, and educational experience; for in fact the same lessons can be applied to most group activities, and certainly to church life. Nobody can do it all, but everybody has an important part to play in the overall scheme of things.
oh... and sometimes... we do drop the odd clanger!

It's snow bad!

Sorry I've been away from the blog for the last week. I was visiting some friends who, it just so happens, live in Central Florida. Now I know what you are thinking: - why one earth would anyone want to forsake the rain and snow and frost of a Scottish February for sunny blue skies and temperatures reaching into the 80's?
I know it is inexplicable. But there you go.
When I left Edinburgh Airport last Tuesday morning it was about 7 deg Centigrade (i.e. 45 Fahrenheit.) When I arrived in Orlando just after 7pm it was 29 Centigrade (84 Fahrenheit.)
But, of course, I wasn't there for the weather... so there's no need for any of you to feel jealous.
Mind you, what I did enjoy were the sunrises. The photo above was taken at the Indian River one morning last week just after 7am.
The tranquillity of these mornings was truly therapeutic. And so too was the opportunity to catch up on long-lasting and ever meaningful friendships.
The American friends I am talking about are a retired minister and his wife, whom I have known for the last 34 years.
My friend, who is now in his 80's (years this time, not degrees!) was preaching on Sunday at the church where he had been minister for many years and which was now celebrating its 50th Anniversary. During his sermon he spoke about a number of people who had been a great influence in shaping his own life and Christian faith; people who had somehow passed on the love of God from their experience to him.
As he spoke I felt that I was part of a very long chain going right back to the command of Jesus to his disciples that they should love one another, and the following idea formed in my head:
The true apostolic succession is the passing of the love of Christ from one generation to the next.
Some journeys are definitely worth making.

Thank you for the music

From time to time we have various concerts in the Church. On Friday night we had a return visit from Stonehouse Male Voice Choir, and a thoroughly entertaining evening they gave us. An excellent performance full of good humour and good singing.
Ordinarily I think I prefer a 'choir of all the parts' but, having said that, my tastes in music are pretty eclectic, as even a quick glance at my CD collection would show.
To me music should only be divided into "good" or "bad." (Well, maybe there's a middle category of "mediocre.")
Actually in Scotland we also have the phrase "no' bad" (which believe it or not can mean any of the three, depending on the inflection in your voice and the expression on your face.)
If you say it in a downbeat way it means "it was probably alright but it didn't do anything for me, and I wouldn't want to hear it again" (which in anybody's else's book is probably a diplomatic way of saying 'pretty bad.'
If it said with a slight shrug of the shoulders it means something like "I could take it or leave it."
If it is said with a bit of enthusiasm it actually means what it says on the tin, i.e. "not bad" = "good."
All in all, it sounds like the "not proven" verdict that can be dished out in Scottish Courts which can mean anything from guilty to innocent, or somewhere in-between.
So maybe I should just have said that the Stonehouse Male Voice Choir are 'no bad' and leave you to decide for yourself which of the above applies to you; but for that you'll have to go and hear them for yourself.
You can get a wee taste from their website.

It's snow good

Earlier this afternoon we had our first proper snowfall of the year - though not much and not for long.

I know there has been some significant snow in other parts of the country but each time it seems to have by-passed Carluke, much to the annoyance of my youngest daughter.

Well, this afternoon the snow DID fall, though (as I said) it didn't hang around for very long but it loitered enough to (temporarily) make my garden almost tidy enough to look at. That's one thing I like about the snow.

Am I the only one who thinks this... (or am I looking back with white-tinted spectacles?) but didn't we used to get quite a lot of snow in winter time in Scotland? And did it not sometimes hang around for weeks on end?

It's not difficult to convince anyone in this part of the world that global warming is a reality (of course, not in summer time: only in winter!)

Snows no' what it used to be when it used to snow.

The other thing that seems strange to me is that the less snow we have in this part of the world, the more problems it seems to cause, or at least people seem to have more difficulty in coping with it when it does appear, especially with respect to transport. Why is that, for goodness sake?

In support of democracy

Earlier this evening I was in the Scottish Storytelling Centre at John Knox House in Edinburgh. I had been invited to a reception by the Moderator, Rt. Rev. Sheilagh Kesting.
I'm not altogether sure why I was invited, though I suspect it probably has to do with being a convener of an Assembly Committee. Anyway, it was an opportunity to meet a number of very interesting and charming people from various walks of life, including the above-pictured Ken Macintosh, a Member of the Scottish Parliament, with whom I enjoyed a lengthy chat.
Politicians in this part of the world don't get a very good press these days, though sometimes they have only themselves to blame. Unfortunately those whose chief motivation is simply to help other people (and I do actually think that is the majority of them) rarely get the credit they deserve.
I know that some of my fellow ministers sometimes have to face considerable hostility and criticism from people in their congregations (not always justified either) but, for the most part, at least the general public just regards 'clerics' as quite irrelevant or simply as some sort of curious relic from the past (after all relic is almost an anagram of cleric.) Most of the time we don't have to put up with the hassle that politicians at all levels seems to get.
When I see what happens in some countries, like Zimbabwe or Pakistan or Kenya for example, I think we should be grateful that politics in the UK is about as clean as it gets and, while it is right to keep them on their toes, and root out genuine corruption, at the same time I think we should pray with thanksgiving for those who represent us and who, for the most part are trying to make the world a better place.
Yes, I know that even the best of people can be seduced and corrupted by power and that effective democracry requires rigorous accountability but I also know that democracy can be badly damaged by too much cynicism. It's always easier to stand outside of the action and point the finger of accusation than it is to get your sleeves rolled up and stretch out a hand to help.
Reflecting this week on the Holocaust is a sobering remember of what happens when democracy fails.

On the way...

This evening I began a new Discipleship Group. That probably sounds a little bit grander than it actually is. What it amounts to is a group of people meeting in my home for about 90 minutes to explore issues of Christian faith.
It is one of the most enjoyable aspects of my work as far as I am concerned. I get to "do theology" without using any theological language, relying instead on stories, images, things I've heard recently on the radio or seen on TV, or from my own experience, or wherever. Added in to this are the varied and fascinating experiences and insights of all of the people who happen to be in the group.
This group seems to be a good one; not afraid to ask questions or raise issues.
I like the free-wheeling approach to these things. Although I have in my mind a general direction in which I would like the group to 'travel' and even a kind of rough "curriculum" in my head, it is more like walking on a rough path up a hillside and every so often taking little detours to the side to explore things that catch the eye.
I've been doing this kind of thing now for almost 28 years and what I find fascinating is how it is quite different every time and how much of the shared journey is shaped and determined by the particular individuals involved. I never fail to learn something new myself each time; occasionally even from myself. Once or twice I have thought to myself, as I've found a fresh way of expressing things, 'I should make a note of some of this and use it another time...'
But on reflection I am glad that I never do, because each 'journey' is unique, and the very act of doing things this way forces me to clarify in my own mind how I see things.
And it means I always start to get excited and passionate about what I am sharing.
No bad thing, I'd say, since the most boring teacher is a bored teacher!

Mind your hurdy-gurdies

We are right in the middle of the Celtic Connections traditional music festival at the moment and earlier this evening I experienced one of the most bizzare and fascinating musical ensembles ever gathered together - la Banda Europa.
If you already know the difference between your nyckelharpas and your hurdy-gurdies and your panderttas from your duduks then it may not be strange to you, but it was certainly strange to me... but great fun all the same.
Click on the link above to learn a bit more about the band, or drop into their myspace page to hear them for yourselves.
As most of my readers know, I love classical music (amongst other styles of music.) I guess it could be argued that in some way the classical orchestra gathers together musical instruments at the very pinnacle of their development - but this has meant leaving behind some of the fascinating instruments that preceded the ones we are familiar with now. I tell you, there is something hypnotically relaxing about a hurdy-gurdy quartet! (Although it does look a bit bizarre.)
Watching the players cranking the handles of their hurdy-gurdies reminded me of the mechanical calculating machines that my secondary school invested in - just a year or so before the invention of the electronic calculator. (What a waste of money that was!)
When the teacher left the room we used to play a game. A kind of competition really.
If you set all of the levers of the calculating machine to 9, then cranked the handle backwards as fast as you could, eventually all the levers would return to 0 and a bell would ring. The trick was to crank the handle as fast as you could and the first to get the bell to ring was the winner. Amazing. Fantastic exercise for the upper body! Although once or twice when the teacher returned early and saw everyone furiously turning the handles of their machines we had to quickly think up some highly implausible excuses for our bizarre behaviour.
I never once thought to say: "I'm practising for when I play the hurdy-gurdy!"

*by the way, just in case you wondered - the people in the picture above are playing nyckelharpas

Losing the place

Nobody seems to have noticed that in my original post below I suggested that one of my "visitors" was from Japan. Clearly no one actually looked at the map itself as the red dot is nowhere near Japan at all but in the Philippines. I have now amended it accordingly.

Starting again

Apologies for the tiny picture!
It's the archived picture of the visitor locations on my ClustrMap. It showed that from 20 Jan 2007 to 21 Jan 2008 there had been 17269 visits to this blog. Not a particularly large number as internet sites go but it also showed where each of these 'visitors' was located and I found it fascinating to think that people from all sorts of countries and on every continent had one way or another stumbled on to this blog. You could also see where the regular readers were- they were represented by the larger dots.
But now ClustrMaps has decided it is time for a spring clean and a fresh start and they have archived my map and produced a new one.


And now I discover that my first visitors of this new year are from England, France, Philippines, USA (4) and Brazil (2)
I wonder who you all are?

Free for all...

Last night, here in Carluke, the annual Service for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity took place. This year the service was held in our local Roman Catholic church, St. Athanasius'. It was pretty much a "night off" for me as I didn't have to preach. I was, however, playing in the small band that led the praise. On this occasion I had to play trumpet most of the time, but, for once I didn't mind (I usually much prefer to play the fiddle.) I didn't mind because the acoustics in St. Ath's were so good.

I was a bit embarrassed, however, when the priest announced to the congregation that two of the hymns we were singing had been written by myself. (The words, that is.)

In fact these two hymns had been chosen by "Churches Together in Britain and Ireland" for inclusion in the resource leaflet prepared for the 2008 ecumenical services. Some months ago I was quite surprised to receive the phone call asking me if it would alright to include the hymns in the leaflets. Naturally I gave permission for their use which then prompted a huge sigh of relief at the other end of the phone.

"I'm glad you agreed." said the caller "You see, we've already printed hundreds of thousands of leaflets and they've already been sent out all around the country. We forgot to get your permission first."

I suppose I could have changed my mind at that point... or perhaps intimated that here would in fact be a huge royalty fee payable...but I didn't. I sometimes get a bit annoyed when you have to pay quite significant sums of money to use a single hymn or song in a service of worship. I know that for some professional hymn-writers it is their only way of making a living, but I suspect that some publishing firms also make considerable profits from the more popular ones.

As far as I am concerned - unless it is for a professionally produced publication - I am always happy for my hymns to be used free of charge. The only stipulation I make is that the copyright ascription is included so that no one else claims the work as their own. After all, hymns are surely meant to be a resource for the church's worship.

Anyway, these thoughts were prompted not just by last night's united service but also by the discovery that the brilliant classical violinist Tasmin Little has released her latest album "The Naked Violin" as a completely free download. It is a seriously good performance and recording (as long as you choose the highest quality download.) What impressed me most, though, was that it is part of a whole strategy which Tasmin has of making classical music more accessible to people who may not have tried it before. It includes a tour of very unlilely venues like factories and shopping malls etc.

As far as the download itself is concerned she has issued a three-step challenge:
Step 1
Listen to my spoken introduction and download my CD.
Step 2
Take some time to listen and get to know these pieces. Then write to me and tell me what you like (or don’t like) about each piece.
Step 3
Go to a concert, buy a CD or write and tell me what barriers still remain to prevent you from wanting to do either!

I think it's a brilliant idea and I hope it all works.
Mind you, although Bach's 'Partita No. 3' is one of my favourite pieces of music I'm not sure how it will appeal to those who've never listened before to classical music.

Lost

Last night I thought I had lost my mobile phone...
I was just heading out the door to go to a meeting when I instinctively patted my pocket to check the phone was in its usual place... only to discover that it wasn't.
Nor was it on my desk or in my briefcase or any of the places it might normally end up. I checked the car (though I was intending to walk to the meeting) but still no sign of it...
I tried calling the number from the landline yet could not hear it ringing out anywhere... but then, I normally keep the cellphone on silent mode.
No time to look anywhere else, though... have to wait till after the meeting...

So I headed off for the meeting with this vaguely unsettled feeling.

I wasn't likely to need the phone. (Actually I don't use it all that often in any case.) But as I walked along the road I began to feel more and more like Linus without his security blanket. I don't know what disturbed me more- not having the phone, or the feeling of being disturbed at not having the phone. (If you can follow this so far...)

I know it had nothing to do with the monetary value of the phone itself. (It's not a particularly expensive one, and it is insured.).
Nor is it really the data stored on it. (I've not had the phone for all that long and I still haven't transferred all the numbers from my previous address book.)

So why was I feeling so annoyed?
I certainly wasn't wanting anyone to call me on the phone.
And I knew I didn't need it. I've lived the greater part of my life without having a mobile (and in fact the first 12 years of my life without even having a landline in our home) so I know it's not a necessity.

In the end I came to the uncomfortable conclusion that it must have had something to do with habit, the comfort of routine etc..
It was some sort of security blanket after all.
Maybe I'm losing it... and I don't mean my phone.

But one good thing came out of it: it gave me an idea for a talk that I was to do today to the "Scripture Union" group at our local High School. I could talk about communication... etc.
And so I did.

Oh.... and in case you're worried... (although I know you're not!)
...the mobile turned up after all...
...where lots of of missing objects often do...

I had only sat down on the sofa for ten minutes after dinner to catch the end of the news bulletin: the phone must have slipped out of my pocket and down between the cushions...

Who's not scared?

Last week I had to attend a meeting in Edinburgh. I wasn't quite sure exactly what time I was meant to be there so I went early. You may wonder how it is possible to do this - deliberately go early when you don't know what time you are actually meant to be there- but I did. In any case, it turned out that I was early by more than two hours- enough time to pay a visit to the bookshop and buy a book and (even better) enough time to start reading it.
The book I bought is pictured above. OK - it is not exactly hot off the press. It was published in 2003 and (as you can see from the cover) it has already been turned into" a major motion picture" which is also now available on DVD.
And I know why: it was a brilliant read. One day I would love to be able to read it in the original Italian; but even in the English translation by Jonathan Hunt it is quite delightful.
I'm not going to attempt to review the book, far less spoil it by giving away the plot: I just want to recommend it.
The old proverb tells us never to judge a book by its cover but I don't mind admitting that it was the cover which sold it to me, along with the title. When somebody says (either out loud or just into themselves) "I'm not scared!" you can be pretty certain that this is precisely what they are.
People can be scared by all sorts of things, and often the fears are entirely irrational - like my own fear of heights, or other people's fear of spiders. Some fears are not only justified, they are downright useful. When you are about to cross the road, it is a good idea to be a little bit afraid of fast moving cars: not so scared that you are rooted to the spot and unable to cross, but, equally, not so blase that you walk out into the road not even looking to see if there is any traffic coming. Even fear has its uses sometimes.
Unfortunately, we often fear things we can do absolutely nothing to change and, perhaps even more often, we fear things that are just not likely to happen.
So what is your most irrational fear?
Own up...right here...
...if you dare!

A bit fuzzy and blurred...

Just back from my more or less annual "fiddle fix" - by that I mean the Annual Fiddle Force Winter School which for the last 10 years (I think) has been held at Wiston Lodge in South Lanarkshire. This year's excellent tutors were Iain Fraser and Lori Watson but the classes are only part of the experience. The best thing is just getting the chance to play the fiddle all day and into the "wee small hours."
For some reason or other I hadn't played the fiddle as much during last year as I would have liked. But the weekend was a chance to catch up, as well as a chance to meet up with old friends and make a few new ones. [Congratulations to Colin and Anne on their recent marriage - making Fiddle Force part of their honeymoon!! :-) ]
The photograph above is of one of the evening "sessions" taking place in a very dimly-lit room. I decided not to use any flash; not because I was avoiding distracting my fellow fiddlers but because I wanted to see what sort of picture I might be able to take with so little light available. I like the grainy 'old film' look. And it's probably a good idea that you can't really identify the people in the shot - because I never asked anyone's permission to publish their photos.
Life itself is a bit like this in any case.
Some folk like to give the impression that everything is bright, clear-cut and sharply in focus; for such folk the truth is always absolute and obvious. And they are quite certain they know it.
As for me...I'm not always so sure.
Sometimes I think reality is probably more like this picture - a bit fuzzy and blurred - like a dim image in a mirror, as St. Paul might have said.
No, wait a minute ... that's exactly what he did say.

The rage continues

According to emails and texts I have received today from friends in Kenya the situation is still very tense and dangerous. The upsurge in violence continues and people are, rightly, very afraid. News I heard earlier of up to 50 people being burned to death while trying to shelter in a church underlines just how shocking and brutal this violence is. One friend in Kenya sent me a terse but heartfelt email asking simply "May God give you power to PRAY for Kenya"
I invite you to join with me in responding to the request.

More bad news

After the rioting following on the assassination of Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan, it is the turn of Kenya to explode into political violence. I was in Kenya in 2002 just before the elections that brought the current government to power and those were tense times but nothing like the scenes that are being reported now in the wake of the presidential elections. In 2005, when I was last there it seemed to be a country that was relatively-speaking at peace with itself.
It is strange to see such violent events breaking out in places that you recognise and which at the time you visited them seemed relatively 'normal,' albeit poverty-stricken, but I suppose violence can erupt in any situation and that the outward veneer of civilisation is pretty thin no matter where you are in the world.
The saddest thing is that the current violence in Kenya seems once again to be based on tribal allegiances, artificially papered over by the processes of colonisation in previous generations.
There is a deep human need to feel that you belong to something bigger than yourself or your immediate family, but when passions run high and one tribe feels threatened by another (whatever the context) the impulse to violence seems hard to contain.
But a sense of belonging to a group need not always be something harmful.
The sense of belonging engendered by a football club is tribal in its own way and, sadly, can sometimes generate its own brand of divisive and destructive behaviour, but as recent days at Motherwell FC have shown a sense of belonging may also provide a positive source of mutual comfort in times of tragedy.
One of the greatest tragedies of all in human behaviour is when groups/tribes/nations/religions/denominations or whatever feel that they can only establish their own sense of identity in opposition to others rather than basing it on something positive.
Let's hope and pray that the violent end to 2007 may not be continued into 2008.
I wish you all a peaceful and blessed New Year.

Well missed

As a Motherwell fan, I am still trying to come to terms with the sudden death on Saturday of our club captain, Phil O'Donnell. Because I was conducting a wedding I didn't get to go to the match which, before the tragedy of Phil's death, had been shaping up to be one of the best of the season. Most of the rest of my family were at the game, however, and I couldn't believe it when I received a text from one of my daughters telling me what had happened.
All the things being said about Phil O'Donnell being such a good man as well as a good footballer are true and he was truly respected at the club. We will all miss "Uncle Phil" and our thoughts and prayers are with his wife Eileen and the family at this time.

Blue skies... nothing but blue skies

You may have been wondering why a "Schmap" reference to Florence recently appeared in the sidebar of this blog. It's just vanity on my part, really, mingled with a bit of yearning for the clear blue skies of Italy in late summer.
'Schmap' (whoever they are) found the above picture of the Old Bridge in Florence (Ponte Vecchio) on my Flickr page and asked for permission to include it in their online guide to the city.
I was happy to oblige - though I would be even happier had they offered me a free trip to Florence to write an article for them about the city.
Sadly, no such offer was forthcoming, so in the meantime I will have to content myself with journeys in the memory and imagination.
However, back in the real world, yesterday I conducted a funeral: tomorrow it will be a wedding. Yesterday it was more or less dry but cloudy, cold and very windy. Today the rain is pouring down and the only word capable of describing the day is the Scots word "dreich." Tomorrow we hope for better weather- though there is a distinct possibility of snow. There's more than one way to have a white wedding, you know!
As we head towards a New Year we might well long for 'nothing but blue skies' but you can virtually guarantee that even if there are some bright and cheery days ahead there will also be some darker days.
We need something more reliable than the weather to hold on to, as the following lines suggest. (You may know them well.)

I said to the man
who stood at the gate of the year,
'Give me a light that I may tread safely
into the unknown.'
And he replied ,
'Go out into the darkness
and put your hand into the hand of God.
That shall be to you
better than light
and safer than a known way!'
So I went forth
and finding the Hand of God,
trod gladly into the night .
And he led me towards the hills
and the breaking of day in the lone East.

Minnie Louise Harkins 1875-1957

It's time..

some of our heavenly host of little angels

How can the totally predictable take you by surprise?
I don't know - but it happens.
Every year, without fail, Christmas comes around on the 25th December. (No movable feast here.) And yet... every year (no matter how often I promise myself 'this year I will be ready on time') ...it sneaks up on me like my cat pouncing on an unsuspecting mouse.

So, once again, at the very last minute, I am putting the final touches to the Christmas Eve Watchnight Service.

Now, when am I going to get round to preparing the Christmas Day Service….? Ooops.

But, we’ll get there. We always do. Just like Christmas.

Yesterday, was our All Age Christmas Celebration. The central part of it consisted of a short follow-up to the pantomime we put on at the start of the year (Jack and the Beans Talk.) This short sequel was entitled “Zack and the Herald Angels Sing.”

It went brilliantly well—probably because I had virtually nothing at all to do with it.

Probably most of my regular readers have far too many much more important things to do than to be reading this blog before Christmas, but I just wanted to wish everyone a VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS whenever you read it.

Don't look up now

I heard in the news yesterday that very soon visitors to Rosslyn Chapel are not going to be allowed to take photographs inside the building any more.
And the reason?...
... wait for this...
Too many people, apparently, have been trying to take pictures of the ceiling and have been falling over, or tripping on the uneven stone floor!!
So it's a Health & Safety issue!
It begs the question, should people who fall over when they look up even be allowed out of doors by themselves?
Frankly, when I heard the piece, I was beginning to wonder if it was April Fools' Day, or that I was listening to a sketch from a Monty Python Show.
But - no - you couldn't make up something like this.
Does anyone else think that 'Health & Safety' issues are sometimes taken just a bit too far?
In my opinion, most people don't look up often enough! They don't marvel at the stars, or the rising moon, or the glories of a sunset, or the flight of birds.
In these pre-Christmas shopping days it's 'heads down and keep moving' - don't pause even for a moment to look up at some of the magnificent buildings in our cities, or even to lift up your heads enough to look your fellow shoppers in the eye.
One of the things I like about the Christmas stories as you find them in the New Testament (without all the additional ingredients that over the years have grown on to the stories like barnacles on the hull of a ship) is their honesty in admitting that very, very few people actually noticed anything special about that night, or that baby. Just a handful of shepherd and a few wise men.
And what did they have in common?
Only that they were in the habit of regularly looking up at the sky.
So they were the ones who saw stars and who heard angels sing.
On that first Christmas time God looked down so that we could look up.
Lift up your heads.

Doing a good turn

Video

Travel by public transport...

.... it's good for the environment...

..... if not for the nerves!

Land of hope and...

Video

This is not (repeat NOT) a member of the New Scottish Orchestra. Nor is it myself in disguise!
The amount of processing power and programming required to enable this robot to 'play the violin' is amazing, but I don't think Maxim Vengerov has anything to worry about yet: it will be a long time before robots, no matter how well programmed, will ever produce anything like real music.

In at the deep end

The first time I visited SeaWorld in Florida was in 1975. One of the highlights of that particular theme park at the time was the performance of "Shamu the Killer Whale." (Shamu never actually killed anyone but he/she did manage to soak more than a few people; the naive and the adventurous who sat in the front rows.) I don't know how many Shamus SeaWorld will have "employed" over these last 30 or more years but as far as I know Shamu is a still a big attraction.
OK - I know... you're wondering... why the photoshopped picture of my fiddle when I'm talking about killer whales? But I'm coming to that. Eventually. And it has nothing to do with being naive or adventurous.
No... wait a minute... it has everything to do with being both naive and adventurous. But I will come to that in a moment.
Before I do, let me tell you why I thought the Shamu performance was so good. It had nothing to do with the whale, as it turns out.
When we arrived at the open air "Shamu" arena, with its gigantic whale pool, we were greeted by a SeaWorld employee who ushered us towards the seating area. Those who were already in their seats, or on the "bleachers" if you prefer, were laughing loudly and enthusiastically. We had no idea why, as the show hadn't started. In fact it was a total mystery...
.... until we had taken our seats and could look down on the next group of people to enter the area. Like ourselves they were met by the "usher" who pointed the way to the seating areas.
But this "usher" was in fact an expert mime artist who, within a few split seconds, was able to sum up something distinctive about the way that a person walked or gestured. As the 'usher' pointed out the way ahead he would step behind the unsuspecting stooges and mime hilarious caricatures of them. I tell you, he was a master.
And now to the point...
.... on Saturday I had the amazing privilege of playing with the New Scottish Orchestra for their annual Christmas Concert. It was a fantastic experience, even though the first time I saw any of the music was at the one and only rehearsal in the afternoon, and even though I had somehow been placed in the first violins, and even though most of the music was in five or six flats and even though some of the pieces had all sorts of 'impossible' runs and arpeggios in them, and ... well, let's just say, too many notes!!! (I'm only talking about myself, by the way, most of the players around me seemed to be doing fine.)
Anyway... this is where Shamu came to mind. For I found myself from time to time doing a little bit of expert miming and caricaturing, even occasionally 'playing' the violin with the bow about half an inch above the strings!! I did a passable impersonation of a violinist. Don't tell anyone now.
Seriously, though, in spite of the occasional difficulties of my sight reading, it was a marvellous evening. One of the soloists in particular had a fantastic voice, the baritone, Terence Ayebare. If he doesn't make a big name for himself in the classical music scene in the near future I will want to know why - although, to be fair, Terence Ayebare is a pretty big name already.

That's what I call laid back

Someone I know pretty well may have had a hand in this little production. Someone else I know (though perhaps not quite so well) had a jaw in it!

Lift up your heads

When I have more time I may reflect on my (very enjoyable) experience of playing with the New Scottish Orchestra, but in the meantime I'll just share with you the words of another new hymn I wrote for today's service. (First Sunday in Advent)
We sang it to the tune of Stuart Townend's hymn "In Christ Alone." I hope he won't mind that we didn't ask his permission first, but I had to use a tune which I knew our congregation was familiar with and enjoyed singing.

Lift up your heads

Lift up your heads,Lift up your hearts
Out of the darkness will come light.
Lift up your voice in joyful praise
Sing for the breaking of the night.
In those who yearn for God’s new day
His hope will burn eternally,
for Christ will come, his light will shine
into our world in God’s own time.

Lift up your heads in patient hope.
Wait for the day when tears will end;
injustices will be no more;
hearts that are broken love will mend.
The day of truth will dawn at last;
God will transform all that is past;
for Christ will come, his light will shine
into our world in God’s own time.

Lift up your heads. Lift up your hearts.
God’s Holy Spirit is outpoured
as he fulfils his promises
here at the table of our Lord.
He comes among us in his love,
a foretaste of the feast above.
So Christ will come. His light will shine
into our lives in God’s own time.

(c) 2007, Iain D. Cunningham