Well, what do you know...

OK - here it is! The mystery object revealed.

But I imagine some of you will still have no idea what it is or what it is for.

A few of you may recognise it, because you have used one yourself.

Some of you may feel cheated, because you realise that you would never have guessed it and it was unfair of me to tease you with the hope that you might have known.

Some of you may even feel disappointed that it wasn't something more exotic, more beautiful, more interesting even.

Oh - and for those of you who still don't know... it is a capo - a simple device for quickly changing the pitch of a guitar.

Here's another picture to show how it works.

Sorry for causing some of you to lose sleep over it! :-) But, you know, it is worth stopping now and then to remind ourselves of how little we actually do know.

If there is a heaven then, whatever it is like, I am sure it will be full of surprises. There'll be things we thought we knew which will turn out to be completely different, and we'll realise that we didn't know it at all. (People too, of course.)

There will be things we did know but couldn't quite make sense of at the time, because we only had a little bit of the picture, or we saw it only as a dim reflection in a mirror.

We will also realise that we never really knew ourselves (the way God knows us) so there should be plenty to keep us occupied for a while...and even eternity. So if, unlike me, you are not interested in learning new things heaven is going to be a pretty scary "place"!

Keep it under your hat...

Not everyone who reads my blog bothers to read the comments that sometimes appear from other readers. That is a real pity because often the comments are more interesting, and more insightful, than the original post. In particular, you should read the comment on the last post from Cherie.
I especially like the bit where she said: "And then I realized that what I was doing with this little whatever-it-is is similar to how truth is often handled, which is your point. I plucked out just the tad that I think I recognize, and am trying to make it fit somewhere so I can have an answer, closure. How many times do we pluck a bit of truth out of a larger context, create a false context around it which is 'understandable' to us, leave it there, apply it incorrectly, and soon call it doctrine? Scary."

Of course, that is exactly what I meant! Couldn't have put it better myself. In fact I didn't!

Anyway, all of this talk about reality and perception, truth and perspective, reminded me of one of my most favourite "children's" stories: Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Hence the picture above.
I was going to quote the opening section of the story which deals with the 'hat' but, better than that, you can read the whole story (with illustrations here.)

Keep posting suggestions as to the mystery object.
I will let you into one secret, though. It is not a boa constrictor!

Sweet little mystery...

OK - this time I am not going to tell you what this is a picture of: you will have to GUESS! *

(Answers in comments please - although I'm afraid there is no prize for the correct answer.)

A few helpful hints:

First of all I have doctored the photograph a little bit to disguise the object.

Secondly it is a close-up.

Thirdly it is an object that just happened to be lying on my desk this afternoon.

Doesn't help? No, I suppose not.

But I didn't say it was going to be easy.

Have a guess anyway!

Maybe there will be a prize for the most original suggestion?

[* Remember you can click on the photo to zoom in]

The thing is when you look at something from a different angle, or in a different context, or in a different light, or even just from a different viewpoint, even the most familiar of objects can appear strange and mysterious.

Truth can be like that too.

That's why it is sometimes dangerous to be too dogmatic about something you believe to be true. It may be that you haven't got the whole truth: or perhaps there is simply more than one way to look at it.

Yesterday I came across a little poem by Yehuda Amichai that warns of such dangers.

The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai

From the place where we are right

Flowers will never grow

In the spring.

The place where we are right

Is hard and trampled

Like a yard.

But doubts and loves

Dig up the world

Like a mole, a plough.

And a whisper will be heard in the place

Where the ruined

House once stood.

and if you want it in Hebrew...

Break in... break out

Last Sunday, being Easter Sunday, we had an All Age Worship service.
At one point in the service we had the whole congregation playing the old hand game - Rock, Paper, Scissors. I haven't time this morning to explain why to those who weren't there. But I think the congregation were as surprised as I was (when preparing the service) to discover there is a World Rock, Paper, Scissors Society!
I hope everyone knows how to play it.
If not you might like to look at this. Or, to see how not to play it...

There is even an annual world championship - though I suspect not every country in the world sends representatives to it, and the cost of staging it is unlikely to rival that of the Olympics.
As the picture above shows, we also had our own representation of the curtain in the Temple, torn symbolically in two at the death of Jesus. Members of the congregation, of all ages and stages, came out to pin onto the torn curtain little strips of red ribbon, or little pink hearts, to represent all those things in our own lives that may be barriers between us and God, and the congregation were reminded that the grace of God shown in the death and resurrection of Jesus can tear down all these barriers.
It was very moving to see people joining in as enthusiastically with this as they did with the Rock, Paper, Scissors game.
Today, however, is sometimes known as Low Sunday - which for our congregation means they'll just have to listen to me preaching a sermon instead. Definitely an anti-climax.
Much more importantly, the 98-year old lady I mentioned in my last post died yesterday. She was a woman with a very strong faith. We will miss her very much.

Consider the lilies...

I have been awarded a 'Thinking Blogger Award' by one of my regular readers, Cherie.
I'm not yet sure what this means, although I think I am meant to find five other bloggers to whom I should give the award. Sounds a bit like pyramid selling, doesn't it? so in no time at all every blogger should get one. However, I am happy to get mine before they become ubiquitous. (Great word that isn't it?)
It just means it is something pops up everywhere... like weeds, in fact.
The picture above is from my wonderful garden -which is full of plants that promise me they will look after themselves. Other people call them weeds - but a weed is just a plant growing where you don't want it to grow. And, since I have decided I want these plants just where they are ... they are no longer weeds - they are self-seeding flowers, which require minimal (i.e. NO) maintenance.
When Jesus talked about "considering the lilies" I am pretty sure he didn't mean those giant white flowers that are often associated with Easter: he meant common, wild flowers of the field. And he meant us to do what I did here and get down on our knees and take a close look. You see, when you look closely at what some people still call a weed, you can see they are really spectacularly beautiful flowers. Not showy or self-conscious, so that you notice them from far off, but understated and modest, requiring you to stop and look closely.
[you will need to click on the photo to zoom in closely]
I know lots of people like that too. Actually, they are the best kind of people to get to know. There is so much more to them than what appears on the surface, but you have to look closely. They never try to draw attention to themselves, because they know that they can't compete with the show-offs that have carefully cultivated their public image. They are just content to be what they are and tuck themselves into a quiet corner of the world's garden.
I visited one such person a couple of days ago - she is 98 years old and she can remember the outbreak of World War One, and exactly what she was doing the moment war was declared! Amazing.
Now, back to that Thinking Blogger award...
First of all, I have to give Thinking Blogger Awards to five blogs which get me thinking. I'm not sure if I am allowed to nominate those who have already received the award from someone else, but I'm going to do it anyway.
So. here's my five:
1. Steve Tilley always thought-provoking, often very witty, but never dull. 'Mustard Seed Shavings' is one of the first blogs I ever read.
2. Kerron Cross (The Voice of the Delectable Left) well-known among political bloggers and the guy who got me writing a blog in the first place - not that he actually suggested I should- but reading his blog, which gives all sorts of sideways-looks at life in the Westminster Parliament, got me wondering if I might have something to share with other people from my ordinary life-experiences.
3. Emma (Onwards and Sideways) doesn't blog often enough as far as I'm concerned, but I am always interested in what she has to say because she has just moved to Canada and is putting her skills in linguistics to good use with Wycliffe Bible Translators.
4. Liz (Journalling) has chosen a very unimaginative title for her blog, but that is only to conceal the fact that she shows lots of creative imagination in her writing and photographs. She always has something interesting to share. This is a blog definitely worth visiting.
5. Stuart (Retired Cheeky Wee Monkey) is a case of 'now for something completely different.' Always funny, often very perceptive, occasionally asking really searching philosophical questions like "What if penguins had knees? Would they look really stupid?"
Probably you need to have been brought up in central Scotland in the 60's to appreciate everything he writes - but he will certainly cheer you up.
Now I'm supposed to list the Participation Rules. Here goes:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged [which means your blog has been named on one of these lists of 5], write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (silver or gold version).

Blue Sky thinking

I took this photo from my garden this afternoon to prove that even in Scotland we sometimes have days with cloudless blue skies. (Not often, mind you. So we learn to appreciate them.)
I guess most people nowadays will have heard about 'blue sky thinking.' It's about dreaming of new possibilities, thinking outside of the box, finding new ways of looking at problems etc.
Following on from yesterday's post, I believe some scientists have been trying to do a bit of this 'blue sky thinking' in relation to global warming (this metaphor seems to me to be particularly appropriate in relation to environmental concerns.)
In most areas of life, of course, there are times when such 'blue sky thinking' is not just a good idea but a necessity. However, sometimes we also have to learn to appreciate the clouds. And for this purpose there exists... the Cloud Appreciation Society.
Actually, it is often the clouds in the sky and the obstacles in the way and the difficult challenges of living and relating to others that make our journey through life interesting. So on this cloudless blue-sky day - let's hear it for the clouds!!

An Inconvenient Truth

I've just finished watching "An Inconvenient Truth," Al Gore's documentary on the issue of Global Warming. I never expected it to be such gripping viewing. I mean it is a documentary for a start! And at the heart of it is a powerpoint slideshow/lecture given by an American politician (Al Gore) who, if he hadn't lost the US presidential election because of some dodgy hanging chads in the state of Florida, might possibly have lost it by simply boring the electorate to death - but not here.
Al Gore's undoubted expertise is matched (or maybe even superseded) by his passion. This is a man with a mission and a message- and he definitely gets the message across.
If you haven't seen this film yet, it's time you did.
By the way, I didn't mean to be quite so dismissive of documentaries. "Touching the Void" is another one that has you sitting on the edge of your seat.

Carluke

For those of you who haven't found it yet the new Carluke Community website is at http://www.carlukecommunity.org
There's also the article about Carluke in wikipedia.
Neither, however, is quite as entertaining as the Carluke Guide that appeared on the Net a couple of years back and talked about Carluke's financial district and international airport etc. not to mention the fact that it is a likely resting place for the Holy Grail!! This new site, however, is considerably more accurate than that spoof website, which now ( sadly) seems to have disappeared. All that remains of the Carluke Guide is the home page.

The last laugh...

Well, this afternoon I decided it was time to remove the graffiti from our window. It was hard work but all it needed was some warm water and washing up liquid, a scouring pad, and a lot of hard scrubbing.
Half way through the process, though, I toyed with the idea of leaving it as you see above. Part of me thought that it would be a neat irony, and certainly not what the vandals intended, to advertise the name of Jesus beside the empty cross. However, I reckoned the longer I left the paint on the window to dry and harden the harder it would be to remove it, so the next best thing was simply to photograph it.
Given that it is Easter Monday I was actually laughing to myself while I scrubbed. For the last laugh in the end belongs to Jesus and a little bit of graffiti is hardly going to defeat him or his cause when all the powers of death itself could not hold him back.

Easter Greetings

HAPPY EASTER!

"Everybody needs good neighbours!"

On a cheerier note, it looks like it won't be too long before we have some new neighbours!

OK - it's only the timber frame for the first level of one house so far but once things get to this stage progress is usually pretty visible.

Yep - there are changes ahead.

The writing's on.... the window

Following on from the story of our 'moving' gatepost, we got something of a surprise this morning to discover that someone last night decided that one of our living room windows just wasn't colourful enough.
It really was a bit of a shock.
All the more so because last night at the Good Friday service I had been preaching about those who mocked Jesus.
At one point I had said something like this:
"He who had given so much love, who was giving so much love, was subjected to mindless hate.
The story of Christ’s passion is not just a story about physical or spiritual suffering: it’s a story of a man’s humiliation. Christ was mocked and ridiculed and humiliated by just about everyone....
If he had called upon Elijah to come to his rescue (as some thought he was doing) then the crowds (in amazement and wonder) would have carefully lifted the crown of thorns from his brow and replaced them with a crown of kingship, and they would have bowed at his feet, but at that very moment Jesus would have ceased to be the true King.
You see if at any moment Jesus had given in to the temptation to prove to the mocking crowds who he really was, (as Judas wanted him to) he would have become someone else, and no more able to save others than you or I.
This is why it was so easy to mock him, and why he could give no answer back.
Jesus knew that the mockery and ridicule were part of the pain he had to bear if he was to be what God had called him to be and to do what God had called him to do.
He also knew and warned his disciples that they too would face ridicule and derision from a hostile world.
And so it has proved to be down through the centuries. It almost goes without saying that if we would follow Christ at all, it is almost inevitable that we will face mockery and scorn from a sceptical world."
Maybe someone who had been at the service wanted to test my reaction?
Seriously, though, isn't it strange how Christ is still mocked by those who have no idea of who he was or what he has done for them?
Still, it will soon be Easter morning. And I know who will have the last "Laugh Out Loud."*

[* in case you can't read it, the graffiti says 'LOL at Jesus' - i.e. laugh out loud...]

Water, water everywhere...

This photo, also taken on Monday, is especially for Cherie as she apparently has a thing about water (see comment on yesterday's post.)
It is the River Clyde - though it could be almost any river. To me, it was simply an abstract picture of reflections in water with subtle moving shapes and tones.
Like Cherie, I find water fascinating.
In a deep pool, when the surface is still and the reflections are sharp, it can be very soothing and comforting. Gentle wavelets lapping on a stony beach can be equally calming and peaceful. And, if you are used to living by the seashore, even the regular pounding of waves on rocks can be reassuringly relaxing.
The house (i.e. tenement slum) in which I was born was right next to a high waterfall and the stream ran beside our house (although I think a lot of it also ran through the foundations of our building which was always damp: a dampness which gave me rheumatism in my knees when I was a child.) Whatever the drawbacks of living right next to that waterfall, I always found the sound of it reassuring.
I even like it when the sea gets angry and batters the coast with elemental force- though I certainly would not want to be sailing on it in stormy weather and I admire those who do.
When I lived in Ayr for a couple of years, at the start of my ministry, I used to head down to the quiet beach at Seafield on a Monday morning, whatever the weather, and just let the sea speak to me.
For all these reasons I find the description in the Book of Revelation about the new heaven and the new earth very strange (Rev. 21:1) because it says "there was no longer any sea."
There is no place for the sea in the Hebrew idea of heaven because the sea represents primordial chaos. (Actually I think it may just be that the Hebrew people have never been great sailors, but what do I know about these things?)
At any rate, while I am still on this earth, I am grateful to all those who do go down to the sea in ships. (Psalm 107:23-24)
I am also very thankful today that the British sailors and marines who were being held hostage in Iran have been released unharmed, though I am deeply saddened by those who have lost their lives or their homes in the most recent tsunami.

Still point in the turning world

Another photograph from yesterday's visit to the Falls of Clyde - part of the Corra Linn.
I used the old trick of a slow exposure to show the movement of the water over the stones. It reminds me of the passage of time which, as the years roll on, seems to get faster and faster. When so much around us is changing so fast, we all look for something firm and solid to hang on to - what T. S. Eliot called "the still point in the turning world"*
I find that still point through my faith in God. Not that my faith itself is any more stable or secure than anything else in my life - but I believe God is. He is the still point. The Rock. He is bigger, stronger, 'older' than anything else in the Universe. And, unlike the rocks that form the gorge through which the Clyde makes it way towards New Lanark, He is not eroded or diminished by the passage of time, or the events of history.

(* see Burnt Norton by T.S. Eliot)

By the way, I've just been given a sneak preview of a new Carluke Community website. Once it is officially online, I'll post the link.

All change?

Well, you may see one or two changes in the appearance of my blog.

I didn't actually mean all of this to happen. I was making a simple change and must have hit a wrong key and ended up losing many of the customisations I had put in place before.

So I decided to start again.

Sometimes a fresh start is a good thing, as long as we don't throw away everything from the past. As any visit to New Lanark will show you- there are always things we can learn from the past.

One of the things you can now do is perform a Google search direct from this blog (see bottom of page) and you can search the Web, my blog or our church site. Try it and see.

Pain and pleasure

Just in case anyone gets the wrong idea here, let me say right away that I am not in any way a masochist. I certainly do not enjoy experiencing pain at any level.
However, today, on a rare "day off," I had two experiences which combined both pain and pleasure.
One was a pain that led to pleasure: the other a pleasure that led to pain - although in both cases I am actually exaggerating and overstating the case (something we preachers are prone to do.)
In the first place, this morning I had the stitches removed from the post-op wound on my back. Not a particularly pleasant experience and yet one that I was really looking forward to quite eagerly (not in anticipation of the pain, of course, but in the expectation that it would mark another important step to full recovery.)

The other was a very pleasant walk this afternoon from New Lanark to Bonnington Linn. The views along the River Clyde are quite spectacular, even though there is far less water in the river than there would normally be at this time of year. The pain comes at the end of the walk when you have to climb back up the steep hill to the car park at New Lanark!

A few years back it was reported on the BBC that some scientists had established that pain and pleasure were more closely linked than it had generally been realised before. (although the Dutch religious philosopher Spinoza- regarded at the time as a heretic- had been making similar claims away back in the 17th Century.)
Recently I started reading a book by Antonio Damasio entitled "Looking for Spinoza." I didn't get very far into the book before I had to lay it aside. It is a pretty busy time of year with not much free time for reading, but I think I'll have another go over the summer.

* the top photograph shows the bell tower at New Lanark, and the lower photograph is of Corra Linn.

Off with his head...

Last night our church was full as we hosted the annual Carluke Churches' "Palm Sunday Praise" service.

We had, as our special guest, the amazing Steve Price, who describes himself as a "Gospel Illusionist."

As well as being a highly-skilled conjuror, he is also a very witty entertainer, so we all had a real fun-filled evening. The singing wasn't bad either and, as usual, I got a lot of enjoyment out of playing in the band.

Steve uses his 'magical' skills to convey a Christian message and he does it very professionally, with a great sense of comic timing.

I'm sure there are some people who think that Jesus was really just some kind of illusionist when it came to performing miracles, like walking on water, or turning water into wine etc. For such sceptics the Easter story must seem like the ultimate conjuring trick. But for those of us who believe there is no illusion about it: it is instead the ultimate reality.

PS. In case, you are wondering... although the guillotine chopped the carrots clean through, the young man's head stayed firmly on his shoulders.

The charge of the white brigade

I wonder if any of my readers knows anything about the behaviour of sheep?

Behind today's photograph lies a strange tale. Well, perhaps it isn't strange to those who understand the minds of sheep - but to me it seemed more than a little weird.

The incident I am talking about took place a couple of years ago. Every year in early September a number of the ministers in our Presbytery take off for a day retreat somewhere. Occasionally this has been in the form of a spiritual retreat. (On one occasion we even spent most of the day in total silence - no mean feat for a bunch of Church of Scotland ministers!) but on other occasions it has been little more than a day out exploring some part of the country.

In September 2004, I suggested that we take a trip down to the north of England to a part of Westmoreland where a friend of mine had a hotel. We enjoyed a lovely lunch in the hotel then set out for a walk in the rolling hills and dales of this beautiful part of the countryside. It is is criss-crossed with stone walls and you have to climb over many stiles to make your way through the fields.

In one particular field a flock of sheep grazed quietly. But as we approached their end of the field, the sheep started, one by one, to move over to our right and to line themselves up on the brow of the hill, as if they were playing the part of some Native American Indians in an old-fashioned Western. I don't know who the leader was, or what the signal might have been, but suddenly the sheep started to charge over the hill towards us at full speed. [Had it been cattle rather than sheep I would not have stood there taking a photograph!]

The charging sheep swept in front of us then round our left hand side and behind us again until they were back on our right hand side where they stopped.... and simply stared.

What was that all about?

Perhaps the strangest thing of all is that the sheep platoon re-formed at the top of the hill and then repeated the whole episode a second time.

I am sure there is an explanation for it, but, to me, who knows very little about sheep, it was simply bizarre.
But I have to confess that the teamwork was amazing! How did they decide as a group what they were going to do? Who gave the orders? How did they know when to turn?

A little bit of dust

Last of the sunsets for just now. This one was taken from a slightly different location and about 30 minutes later, but again, it is playing around with the exposure that produces a different effect.

That... and dust!

The British naturalist, Dr. Alfred Russel Wallace, who was a pioneer of evolutionary theory, along with Darwin, wrote a chapter in one of his books entitled “The Importance of Dust."
He pointed out that the beautiful colours in the sky, both the blue of a bright summer day, and the reds, golds and lilacs of sunset, are all due to the presence of dust. Without dust the sky would appear absolutely black and the stars would be visible all day.
What's more, it is because of the dust that we get mist and cloud and rain, without which life on earth would be impossible. Come to think of it, we ourselves come from the dust of the earth, do we not?
Amazing what God can do with a little bit of dirt.

Reminds me of an old joke...There was a group of scientists and they were all sitting around discussing which one of them was going to God and tell Him that they didn't need him anymore.
One of the scientists volunteered and went to tell God that he was no longer needed.
The scientist says to God - "God, you know, a group of us have been thinking and I've come to tell you that we really don't need you anymore. I mean, we've been coming up with great theories and ideas, we've cloned sheep, and we're on the verge of cloning humans. So as you can see, we really don't need you."
God nods understandingly and says. "I see. Well, no hard feelings. But before you go let's have a contest. What do you think?"
The scientist says, "Sure. What kind of contest?"
God: "A man-making contest."
The scientist: "Sure! No problem".
The scientist bends down and picks up a handful of dirt and says, "Okay, I'm ready!"
God replies, "No, no, no... You go and get your own dirt."

More than one way

"The camera doesn't lie!"

Here's another photograph taken from exactly the same location and precisely three minutes later than the one posted yesterday.

It's not that the scene actually changed all that much in those three minutes: it's just that there is always more than one way to take a photograph.

In the same way, there is usually more than one way to see, and express, reality and truth.

A different light

I have not been out of the house much in the past week but last night I took the camera and the car and went up behind Carluke to watch the sun going down.
Alongside more conventional 'sunset' photographs showing the sun as a bright red ball in the sky, and lighting up the few clouds that were around, I took this one.
It is meant to be a bit like a watercolour. Gentle and serene. I love it when the low sun can make hills and fields, which you know are solid, seem like semi-transparent tissue-paper.
If I ever do get back to painting I'll maybe do a little watercolour of this scene.
Did you realise that even Lanarkshire could look so lovely?
In a similar way, I think one of the things that the Spirit of Jesus Christ can do is enable you to see other people in a different light.

Yew wouldn't believe it

You don't have to travel half way round the world to find interesting places. There's probably something interesting just on your doorstep. [There often is for us if the cat has been out all night! :-) ]

Seriously, though, many people (no matter where they live) are often blissfully unaware of what is in their own neighbourhood. It is especially true of people who live near to so-called tourist attractions. Although thousands, even millions may flock to see these attractions, the locals often have never visited them for themselves.

The picture above is not exactly on my doorstep. To be totally accurate it is 100 miles from my door. But in the grand scheme of things that is not far. Nor does it seem a particularly special place from the photograph. However, there is a story attached.

The location is Perthshire, and what you see is the so-called 'Fortingall Yew' reputed to be the oldest tree in Europe and dated at around 5000 years old. I reckon that is pretty special, even for a tree.

But it is also a special tree for one particular young couple who asked for my help when arranging their wedding a couple of years back. The bride-to-be was the daughter of very close friends of ours. I'm a kind of adopted uncle. The place was special to them because that's where the proposal of marriage was first put- in the shade of this ancient tree. Aaaw... how romantic, you say! And it is.

How was I to help? To conduct the wedding? No- her uncle, who is also a minister, would be doing that. I was asked to paint a picture of the tree that could be used on the Wedding Invitations and Orders of Service. A great honour and privilege, although I hadn't lifted a paintbrush for many years and actually had to go out and buy some new watercolours. (Somewhere in the intervening years my watercolours seemed to have been used up by one or more of my daughters.)

Although I had heard of this tree, I had never seen the Fortingall Yew before, so it meant a day trip to Perthshire with the camera. Fortunately, although it was bitterly cold, it was a cloudless Saturday afternoon. I couldn't complain about the weather, but when I saw the tree it looked to me like a half-chewed stick of broccoli and not exactly picturesque. Furthermore, I was under strict instructions not to include any gravestones in the painting. After all, they were not likely to set the right tone for a wedding.

It was, at every level, a major challenge to me, and since the people concerned were much more special to me than the place I was seriously worried that I might let them down. However, as a friend once said to me 'deadlines are lifelines' and the looming deadline of the date for printing of the invitations spurred me into life.

The result is no masterpiece but I was pleased enough with how it looked when printed up and I was able to give the original as an extra little wedding gift.

But that is not the interesting part of the story.

If you follow the link above you will see that the location of this tree is also associated with the birth of the notorious Pontius Pilate who, as Roman Governor of Judaea, washed his hands of his responsibility in ordering the execution of Jesus.

The article says: "Nowhere else in Scotland, or for that matter in the British Isles, has an oral tradition and association with the birth of Pontius Pilate; so why should the tiny and obscure hamlet of Fortingall lay claim to this tradition, unless there is an intrinsic element of truth in what would otherwise be deemed as an audacious presupposition."

Well, don't tell anyone this... no, I mean it, keep this a secret, please....
a friend of mine who lives in the city of Perth (and whom I trust implicitly) recently told me that she knows the man who, in her words 'invented the Fortingall Pontius Pilate legend.' According to her, this man at the time worked for the local tourist authority (whatever its title was in those days) and he was looking for a way to get people interested in visiting this part of Perthshire. Now, given that the Romans were stationed in many parts of this country more than 2000 years ago, it is not at all impossible that someone like Pontius Pilate might have born in such a far-flung corner of the Empire. (Just his recurring bad luck, then, that as an adult he got posted to another obscure outpost called Judaea.) There is, of course, no independent evidence either way. It remains "a local oral tradition."

But I wonder, could it be, after all, only 'an audacious presupposition'?

Just a pity the man himself was no Dan Brown. He might have made a fortune writing a book about it.

Name dropping

OK, so I like to place-name drop. :-)

I can't really name drop because I don't really know anyone who is famous.

But, actually, one of the reasons I started this blog in the first place was to share some of my favourite photographs of places I have visited over the years and share some of my thoughts about these places. That's because I think life itself is pretty much a journey and I like to pause now and again to reflect on various places of interest I have arrived at on my life-journey.
Of course, the problem is that this can end up being pretty boring for other people.
I remember once falling asleep while someone was showing us slides of their trip to a foreign country. It's more than a little bit embarrassing when you waken up again, not knowing how much you've missed, or whether you were snoring! But you, dear reader, can fall asleep if you wish, and I won't notice, and I won't hear you snoring, wherever you might be.
This picture you can see here is of the Nubble Lighthouse at Cape Neddick, Maine, USA.
We visited it in 2003.
If I have a thing about bridges, I also like lighthouses a lot. I used to wonder what kind of people had the guts to live the life of a lighthouse keeper. All that isolation and potential danger - like being winched across angry seas, as the lighthouse keeper once would have been here at the Nubble. A bit sad, therefore, that most lighthouses are now fully automated. All the romance and drama have been taken out of the business.
The spiritual metaphors are fairly obvious too - the lighthouse warning of the dangers, guiding ships through hazardous seas to safety, Jesus as Light of the World etc. (One reason that part of our church's youth programme is called the Lighthouse Club.)
But the reason I like this particular photograph is because the light you see doesn't come from the lighthouse itself. The only light here is the reflection of the setting sun in the windows. I had to wait quite a while until this moment came for me to capture.
It's a reminder to me that I have no light of my own: only that which is given to me and which I may then reflect back to others.
Which brings me to the second picture - a banner hanging up in the Guest Hostel of PCEA Kikuyu Hospital in Kenya.

Keeps you humble.

Ten Thousand Buddhas

Healthwise, this has been for me the worst start to a year that I have ever had and at the moment I am on sick leave, which is a relatively new experience for me. Hence the reason I haven't posted anything here for the last few days.
But, I guess this just comes with the territory when you get to a certain age.

Anyway, not being able to sleep much last night I ended up watching a movie - Infernal Affairs (recently remade by Martin Scorsese as The Departed.) It's a great story, well told, dealing with complex moral questions of right and wrong, good and bad etc. but (and how sad is this?) one of the things I liked most about it was spotting all the locations in the film that I had visited while I was in Hong Kong.

The film begins in the Monastery of the Ten Thousand Buddhas.

This is a totally fascinating place and, to my Western Judeao-Christian eyes, almost bizarre.

There are in fact many more than ten thousand statues of the Buddha in the temple and its precincts, and they come in all shapes and sizes and poses.

One of the biggest challenges, though, is simply climbing up the four or five hundred steps to reach the monastery- but you can always stop at any point and pretend you are studying one of the statues, when in truth you are just trying to get some oxygen into your lungs.

I think my favourite was this 'surfing Buddha.' Obviously that was not his proper title, but he reminded me of a surfer or skateboarder.

The monastery of the ten thousand Buddhas is one of the places that I visited on my own, taking the train to Sha Tin and following the signs up the hill.

Being entirely on my own made it an even more 'alien' experience, and, for me, an even more rewarding one. There were so many sights I simply could not understand. Why is there a Buddha sitting on top of a huge blue dog? What is the significance of the nine-storey pagoda?

What do all the symbols represent?

In one way I was glad that there was no one with me who might have been able to answer these questions, because it meant I was free just to 'experience' it as a sort of visual feast.

Sometimes I think experiences without explanation are worth it for their own sake.

Passion Week

What do YOU feel like when you make a new (good) discovery?

For me, there is usually a sense of excitement and delight. But just occasionally, alongside that pleasant buzz, there's a strange feeling of frustration and annoyance. How is it that I didn't know this already? How did it escape me thus far? Have I been going around with my eyes and ears closed? Why did nobody tell me...?

I had one of those moments very recently.

I listen to all kinds of music. And I mean all kinds. But I've been listening to so-called 'classical music' since I was about 14 years old. I first discovered Anton Bruckner 35 years ago when it wasn't easy to buy recordings of his music!

So how is it that I'd never heard of Alexander Tikhonovich Grechaninov until last week? It's not as if he is a newcomer to the music scene. He was born in Russia in 1864 and died in the USA in 1956. In between he wrote a lot of music. And some of it is simply wonderful, including this recording of his Opus 58 - "Passion Week" which I just bought.

It is sung in Slavonic. I don't understand a word of it.

And I don't CARE.

There are some things that need to be understood in a different way. All I do know is that this music touches me really deep down. Some of it is based on traditional Orthodox chants used in Holy Week services. It is unaccompanied choral singing at its very best.

You can listen to an extract for yourself. Not everybody's kind of music. But I love it.

However, what I am most grateful for with this recording is the reminder that I actually know so very little about anything and that there are so many more things in the world that so far I don't know anything about at all.

But it is all out there just waiting to be discovered by those with eyes to see and ears to hear and minds open to new things.

going...going...

Talk about the foundations being destroyed? Someone has been vandalising our gateposts. It happened once before. We got it repaired. Now it is happening all over again. It is being gradually dismantled!

First they scrape out the mortar, then, using some sort of lever, they prise the stones apart.

It's bad enough that my birthplace, my first church (and perhaps one day my first school) should be demolished after I've gone. But not the house I'm living in while I'm still here!! That is a bit too much.

All gone...

The house in which I was born..... USED TO BE HERE!

The hall of the Church where I was baptised was recently demolished. Maybe the church will soon be knocked down too?

Behind it lies my first school. How long before it is also bulldozed?

Clearly I am never going to be famous, as there is nowhere left to put up a plaque!

It is sad, though, that so many places which were so much a part of my early life are now no more. But this is life, is it not? Important though certain places often are to us, they rarely remain unchanged forever.

Of course, there are many occasions when all sorts of familiar landmarks may be swept away from our lives and we are left feeling lost and bewildered. What do we do then?

I remember many years ago when I was a teenager and our church was without a minister an old retired minister was preaching. He preached on a text from Psalm 11. (verse 3)

"If the foundations be destroyed, what then can the righteous do?"

His answer? 'They can go on being righteous.'

It's an answer which has stuck with me ever since, but I don't think it only means 'go on doing the right thing.' I think righteousness is as much about right relationships as it is about right behaviour, and, in particular it is about our relationship to God. So to 'go on being righteous' is about hanging in there with God even, and especially, when everything else has been swept away.

Who says spelling doesn't matter?

First of all let me say I know it is not a great photograph, but it is the only one in my collection taken near to the place I want to tell you about. The river, by the way, is the River Clyde. I was born way down stream from here in the town of Port Glasgow. This photograph was taken much nearer to the source of the river, just outside the village of Abington.

Let me tell you why I was thinking about this village tonight.

I was chairing a meeting earlier this evening when one of the members of the committee shared with us a little tragi-comic tale. He was in this little village of Abington when a very large French truck drew up to a halt beside him and the driver leaned out of the cab and, showing him an address on a slip of paper, asked the man how he might find that address.

My friend looked at the slip of paper and, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, had to point out to him that the place he was looking for was in Abingdon in Oxfordshire, not Abington. It was only one small letter, but it meant he had driven 328 miles further north than he should have. Ooops.

I wonder what his boss had to say when he finally got back to France?

Who says little things are unimportant?

And who says spelling doesn't matter?

Blogging without the use of a Net

I found a new use for my blog yesterday but also missed an opportunity.

Yesterday I was speaking at a local club for senior citizens, known as the "Care Club" and, rather than prepare a talk, I decided to read extracts from my blog, projecting the images on to a screen using the data projector, and illustrating some of the stories with songs and a couple of fiddle solos. The only thing is I forgot to take my camera with me, so I didn't get to take a picture of the audience. That's a pity because a number of the people in the audience said they were going to try and find my blog on the net, even though most of them had never accessed the internet before.

As my childhood hero, the Lone Ranger, might have said "Hi-yo, Silver-Surfers Away!"

Too close for comfort

Just in case Tess happens to be watching over my shoulder, I thought I would post a picture of an elephant, because I know she is fascinated by them.

This particularly magnificent creature was coming towards our vehicle on the Masai Mara in 2002. In the end it decided not to come too close.

Later on, though, a young, but still pretty large, bull elephant came striding up the track towards our 'bus' and refused to stand aside. It came right alonsgide the bus and was about to push its considerable weight around, and could easily have flipped us over. However, our alert and experienced driver 'growled' the engine at him a few times until he reluctantly moved away. Actually (like Tess perhaps) I was too fascinated by this strange but magnificent beast to feel afraid at the time. Only afterwards did I realise that we were perhaps a little bit too close for comfort.

Screen play

I have never really approved of the practice adopted by some parents of sitting their small children down in front of a TV screen and putting on a video/DVD to keep them quiet.
Recent scientific research has suggested it may be a possible factor in the rising prevalence of autism and other disorders. I think it may be a bit early to reach fully definitive conclusions on this, but I'm sure there's something in it.
However, I may have to temper my disapproval of the TV Babysitter after recent experiences.
Not with my children, I hasten to add - as they are all fully-grown and well-rounded adults.... but with our cat, Tess!
I should explain.
We rescued Tess from the local pet rescue service. She was still a kitten, maybe six months old, but it was clear even then that she had been badly treated and at times could become quite frightened.
Nevertheless, with a lot of tender loving care, good feeding, and a great wild garden to play and hunt in, she has become more or less a happy and playful cat.
Most of the time.
But every so often she takes a strange turn. Her eyes suddenly change colour and she goes in for the kill. Being a very athletic, agile and fearless hunter- with delusions of grandeur (she is convinced she is a lioness) she can pounce on you from anywhere and you don't know what's hit you till the teeth and claws sink in.
Maybe it's related to the phases of the moon, or her hormones, or something in her diet, but she has these little bouts of bad-tempered madness every so often.
Recently she was having a particularly manic day. It wasn't safe to move around the house. It was even less safe to sit still.
Something needed to be done.
And it was.
It is our policy of last resort for specially bad 'psycho-Tess days'.

One of my daughters fetched a DVD from the study. It was a Discovery Channel documentary about Mountain Lions. It was duly placed in the DVD Player and Tess was sat down in front of the screen. And, would you believe it, she remained there, watching the screen, absolutely still, absorbed, engrossed, calmed.... for nearly 30 minutes.

The only worrying thing is that she actually likes elephants on the TV even more than she likes big cats. Explain that one to me...

*This is Tess, pretending to be a Mountain Lion. Incidentally, the picture of the lioness above was taken in the Masai Mara in Kenya in 2005.

Energy matters

I can't remember if I have posted this photograph before but I thought I'd like to return to the theme of 'light on the water.'
It's where I started with this blog, and it's often where I start with photographs.
This particular photograph was taken in 2003 when we visited the USA. We managed to see a number of places in our three week tour, which took in a number of states, including Massachusetts, Maine, Florida, New York and Connecticut. This is Perkins Cove in Maine.
It reminded me of Cabot Cove in the old TV series 'Murder She Wrote.' Thankfully no one was murdered while we were there as far as I know, and Jessica Fletcher never turned up.

I think one of the reasons why I like the combination of light and water is that you get unexpected and interesting distortions of the sky, or whatever is on or beside the water. But, even more importantly, both light and water are such elemental things- the very stuff of life itself. Energy and Matter.
The fact that these two things are interchangeable (and that a very small amount of matter equates to a huge amount of energy) is something that always causes me to marvel. I pity those who see life only in terms of the material: they miss so much.

All the little things...

Yet another update on the release of "The Sega Method" by Drive by Argument.

It IS available on iTunes but only if you search under "Drive by Arguement"

Somebody made a small typo somewhere.

You see, little things do matter (including spelling.)

As Archbishop Desmond Tutu once observed, "if you think you are too small to make a difference, you've never been in bed with a mosquito."

Another favourite place

A few weeks ago I spoke about a place that was special to me - Venice.
Of course, we probably all have a number of places that are special to us for different reasons. Our family, for example, has a favourite Italian restaurant. This is where we go to celebrate family occasions - birthdays, anniversaries, graduations etc. It's called "Prego" and it is in Lanark.
Fortunately we've had a number of special birthdays and family reunions of late, so we've had some good excuses to take a trip to Prego.

The food is always really good, though maybe not spectacular. The decor is pleasing and comfortable but maybe not amazing. For an Italian restaurant, the espresso could be a bit better. But it is a wonderful place as far as we are concerned, and the first place we think of going to if we have any excuse at all for eating out. What makes it a special place for us is the staff who serve you. You get the feeling that you've been invited to a friend's house for dinner.

It's the gift of hospitality. And it's what makes the place special.

Of course, you don't have to run a restaurant to exercise this gift. All you have to do is treat other people as if they matter to you (and to do it because they do matter to you- since any falseness is easily picked up) and then you can make space for that person, or people, to be themselves and have a good time.

Apart from genuine hospitality, something else that is always on the menu is the 'prego stick' a mouth-watering pastry that you can have as a starter with a savoury tomato/chilli dipping sauce, or as a dessert with a rich caramel sauce.
For the 21st birthday of one of my daughters, a couple of weeks ago, they made one into a ring for her with candles and sang 'Happy Birthday' to her as they handed it over. Nice touch. Nice taste.



In a couple of months time we're going to have our very own Prego just round the corner from our house. So we can walk there. How good is that? (Well, I'll let you know. But if you're ever in Lanark or Carluke, why not try it out for yourself?)

"L" Plates for Life

Learners of Slough, 2, originally uploaded by Chubby Bat.

It had not occurred to me that some folk might not know what an "L" plate is. But that's the beauty of the internet - that we can learn customs and cultures from around the world.
For anyone who doesn't know, or hasn't guessed, the "L" plate is used by learner drivers, who have not yet passed their driving test to warn other drivers of that fact!
When you've been learning to drive, it's a great feeling when you pass your test and you can rip up the "L" plates and go solo.
Although that was about 30 years ago for me, I still remember the feeling, the sense of liberation, and the scary excitement of getting into the driver's seat with no one else in the car and knowing that this time I was ultimately responsible myself.
Mind you, in terms of being a Christian 'disciple' (learner) I am afraid the "L" plates are still very much in place. And there is no way that I could ever pass the test. Jesus once told his learners to "take my yoke upon you."
I think nowadays he might say - 'put the "L" plates on and let me sit with you. We're going out for a driving lesson.'
You see, until you've passed the test, the car is ultimately under the control of the driving instructor not the learner, and yet the learner is the one who has to work the controls and try to guide the car safely around any obstacles. It's a kind of shared responsibility.
In life we are not mean to be mere passengers being carried along and just watching the view through the window. We have to take responsibility. But the disciple knows that he/she is not yet capable of going solo and needs the reassurance, guidance and much greater experience of the instructor alongside.

(Since it is such a long time since I passed my driving test and since all my children have now also done the same, I couldn't find any 'L' plates in the house, so I am grateful for this photo from Flickr.com)

Duel at dawn

Now here's a strange thing! I took my camera with me to the conference at Aviemore - nothing unusual about that - but the thing is - I didn't use it. (Apart from this one photograph taken from my hotel room window.)
The weather was great, with lots of blue sky and clear air. My contribution to the conference was not too demanding - leading the worship band - so I had time on my hands. There was snow on the mountains and I could have snapped any number of picture-postcard scenes.
But for some reason I just didn't want to.
I had thought I might actually use the camera indoors too - take some shots of the conference itself. But again, for some reason that I can't explain, I chose not to.
I've been trying to think what that reason might be, and the only thing I can come up with is this. Photography, by its very nature, involves the photographer in some way standing outside of the subject and looking in or looking at it. On this occasion, though, I didn't want to be an onlooker: I wanted to be a participant. I wanted to be on the inside of the experience, not observing it from the outside. So I just left my camera in my hotel room the whole time.

Actually I think some people go through most of their lives looking on from the outside, never really living inside their own experience- never really letting go. Observing not participating.
It's certainly true of some Christians in this part of the world when it comes to worship. They become observers, onlookers, an audience, rather than participants who have 'let go' and allowed themselves to become immersed or caught up in the experience.
Thankfully, at last night's closing worship of the Re-Energise Conference this was not the case. The singing was marvellous and it was really great, and humbling, to be involved in making the music. All worship (whatever style it employs, and whatever size the congregation may be) ought to be like this, I think.

As for the picture above, I have no idea what the motor-cyclists were doing. The most obvious explanation is that these were new riders learning how to handle the bike. (In fact, at least one of the bikes does have an 'L' plate. )

But I have another explanation - given that this photograph was taken early in the morning. This was a DUEL! One of the riders had thrown his gauntlet - or at least his motorcycle glove - and challenged the other to a joust. On a given signal the two riders would set off across the tarmac away from each other, turn, and then accelerate towards each other at tope speed, and as they came side by side each would try to knock over his opponent from his bike...

The only thing is... it didn't happen. They never got above 5mph.
So, maybe the first explanation was the right one after all.

Chalk and cheese

This is the congregation of PCEA Kiambaa in Kenya singing in their usual energetic way. That's what I like - energy! That's why I am here at Aviemore for a Church Without Walls conference called Re-Energise. We've just been to morning worship led by the Moderator of the Church of Scotland. He was telling us about his recent trip to Ghana which was interesting enough but he was also trying to get us to sing some songs from Ghana - unaccompanied. (Good in one sense that it means those of us who are in the band could have a morning off.) However... compared to African singing, ours was 'Mogadon Praise!" United in lethargy. Sleepers awake! Actually our singing to African singing was like chalk to cheese. Oh no- there's the cheese again! In fact, as someone actually said to me the singing was dreich! Thankfully the weather is not and the skies are blue.

Foosty

I love my cheese!

But I've been disappointed recently.

The last couple of times we have bought mature cheddar from the supermarket I've opened it and found that instead of the rich, mature, piquant flavour I was expecting, it just tasted mouldy, or as we would say in Scotland "foosty!"

(there's that fungus motif springing up again like dry rot)

Actually, I'm pretty drained at the moment. In two consecutive days I have conducted the funerals of two quite special people who were very dear to me. It was a great privilege to be able to do this in both cases, for both people were the most gracious, humble and gentle folk you could ever have met. They were both in their eighties. But why is it that not everyone grows more gracious with age? Some just get more grumpy.

I fear that as for myself (if I ever survive that long) instead of maturing in Christ-likeness, I will probably just go 'foosty' like some badly-kept cheese.

[Oh, by the way, the picture is of St. Cuthbert's Church in Edinburgh. It's looking good for its age, especially against a clear blue sky.]

Driving by again

You are right - you have seen this picture before. I just want to clear up a bit of confusion I may have caused with some people I have spoken to. It is proof that I am neither 'up with the times' nor 'down with the kids.'
Drive by Argument are not at this stage releasing an album.
The single 'The Sega Method' will be available on Monday, either as a download, or as 7 inch single. The tour begins this weekend.
There - that's cleared up that one - and given them another wee plug at the same time.
Make sure you download your copy. It's good.

A load of rot...

HEY! How did March get here so soon?
It 'snuck' up on me when I wasn't looking!

A bit like the St. Johnstone team that just knocked Motherwell out of the Cup tonight. (i.e. Wednesday 28th... before March snuck up on me)
Against my better judgment (but I have to say with very little resistance from me) I went with my brother to the match tonight.
I had one of those premonitions that we would lose. What I had not foreseen was how badly we would play, especially in the first half.
I say 'we' but of course I was just sitting down most of the time. (Although, so it seems were most of my team.)
But that is the good thing about following a team in any sport. You share the experience vicariously. You identify with it like Jewish people every Passover who talk as if they had been there on the night it happened.
But what about the accompanying picture?
I'll explain. I've seen fungus moving faster than our midfield did tonight. I think the Motherwell team may have given up football for Lent!
All I can say is I'm glad they reduced the ticket price for that match.
Maybe that's why my team reduced their performance?