St Machar's Episcopal Church, Bucksburn

Nestled away in the secrecy of  Old Meldrum Road, between Aberdeen International Airport and Aberdeen City proper, stands this little temple of holiness and praise. Not to be confused with it's famous namesake St Machar's Cathedral, this building, although not as imposing as the Church of Scotland Cathedral has a lot to offer.

I attended an Ascension Day Service in this particular church yesterday and it was a wonderful experience. Although we were few in number, six in all, which is not a surprise when you attend church in the north east of Scotland, rather it is the rule than the exception, it was a profoundly moving and spiritual Eucharistic Service. It is one of those services that is now ingrained in my memory and I dare say that in years to come I will recall what happened here to those with ears to listen.

I was aware of the existence of St Machar's Church, (It shall henceforth be referred to as St Machar's Church, to save any confusion) many years ago, but never bothered to attend, because it was somewhat out of the way, indeed Bucksburn itself is a bus journey away from Numenorian Exile's current location. I was not alone on the occasion of this journey, a dear friend was also with me and we both decided yesterday to take the bus from the city centre to Bucksburn.

Arriving at the church we were given a wonderful welcome, and told that the service would be taking place in the sanctuary in it's entirety, therefore we would have to sit in the choir stalls. Opening the doors to the main body of the church one's eyes are instantly drawn to the altar and the beautiful sanctuary. Hand painted murals of the life of Christ adorn the ceiling of the sanctuary, painted I am led to believe by a famous Scottish artist. Advancing along the aisle, which is plain, yet wholesome, you approach the most beautiful altar, and I am delighted that the church has managed to maintain it's choir stalls, such a common feature of Scottish Episcopal Churches in the North East, is the removal of choir stalls.

We sat with a few of the locals and it was a beautiful Eucharist, the priest in charge using a combination of liturgies, the Scottish Prayer Book, both the Red Version and the Blue Book. Hymns Ancient and Modern, and the most beautiful reflection.

The Priest in charge, who I know very well, and who it is fair to say is ripe in years, moved a chair in front of the altar after the reading of the gospel, and sat down. Here in this simple act I felt that some wise sage was imparting wisdom to his faithful followers, indeed perhaps more akin to the prophets of ancient Israel, he sat and gave us the must beautiful reflection on Ascension Day. I can't remember the full in's and out's of the address, but I do know that at the time I felt a very much an inward dwelling of the Holy Spirit. It was a most uplifting experience.

I knew that this place was special when I was able to pray, properly pray, without distraction and within an instant, normally it takes me a while to get into the zone, so to speak, but here I was unusually receptive. 

The conclusion of the Rite was beautiful. The whole service had a profound sense of the sacred and the presence of the spirit was there, everyone could feel it, a woman turned to my friend and I at the end and said, "that was so very special because you both where here", I mean what can you say to that? This church did not need gimmicks, it did not need all the modern things that all the other "trendy" churches offer, what this church offers is simple, it offers Christianity.

I will remember St Machar's Church now and forever more in my prayers.

   

Trying to find the middle ground.

I don't normally bother to write about controversial subjects and believe me this is certainly not the start of controversial posts. I am just sick, sore, and tired of the rabid voices that are heard on the radio, that are spoke on the television, and that project their thoughts via the letters pages of local newspapers. I for one feel that no one is speaking on behalf of the people they profess to represent in either their staunch defence or their rampant attack. I am of course talking about the whole "gay" issue within the Church of Ireland.

I do not agree with the so called spokesman for Changing Attitudes Ireland, I feel that he has some sort of agenda and indeed I also feel that the organisation as a whole is destroying the relationship of the Gay individual with the Church as a whole. Not all Gay people want such a rabid, out and out attack on the fundamental traditions of the Church. Indeed there is a silent majority within that scion of the Church, that is not being heard. It is not that they don't want to be heard, they simply do not wish to be soiled by Changing Attitudes Ireland. Neither do they want to be seen as being in league with this extremist pressure group.

No one that Numenorian Exile knows, (people who would be classed as Gay) wants to redefine marriage, no one is asking for that. There are people who seem to think that the Church needs to change at once. It is a disgrace and all the while the only voices that are being heard are these media whores, who give cheap theological sound bites at the expense of the individual within the church.

There is a great level of arrogance within Changing Attitudes Ireland, and also in the extreme Evangelical wing of the Church. All the while the quiet contemplative Christian suffers. There is no talk of love from either side, certainly not the love of Christ, the love of God, none of this. It is baseless arguments that result in a merry go round of emotions, with emotive language being bandied about. No one is talking to the individual.

Quite simply no one is asking for marriage to be redefined, no one is asking for the Prayer Book to be changed, no one believes, or indeed, has believed this to be an issue. The only reason this has come about is because certain individuals want it brought to bear. 

In truth, the people on both sides have got it wrong. They claim to speak on behalf of certain groups within the Church, they do not. They claim to have all the support of the Church, they do not. No one is taking the middle ground, no one is dealing with the issue on a rational level. One thing that really annoys me is that outsiders of the Church of Ireland feel the need to flex their theological muscle as it where. We have converts from the Roman Church, hypocrites, proclaiming messages on behalf of Anglicans, and we also have converts to Rome from Anglicanism giving us their half penny theology. This infuriates me. On the other side we have rabid Evangelicals from the non-conformist churches giving us their exegesis on scripture. They should all be silent. Silent !

There needs to be a middle ground, there is no issue. The matter should be closed. Ideally CAI should disband, and also the Evangelical wing should remove their pressure on the Bishops. Things need to return to the way they once where. Other wise the Church will eat it's own head.

  

Traditions and Decline.

Reading the Spring Edition of "Northern Lights" (News from the Scottish Episcopal Diocese of Aberdeen and Orkney) I saw an intriguing picture of the Bishop of the Diocese with a monk on the island of Orkney. It appears that there is a religious order on Orkney known as the Transalpine Redemptorists. In Northern Lights, they were described as adhering to "extreme theology", ha ha ha, indeed they do, because as I have discovered they are affiliated to the Society of St Pius X. 

Everyone knows that the SSPX are very lax when it comes to liturgy. 

Originally based at the Monastery of the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary in the Isle of Sheppey, Kent, they moved to the Mother of Perpetual Succour Monastery in Joinville, France in 1994 until they bought the island of Papa Stronsay on 31 May 1999.[in the Isle of Sheppey, Kent, they moved to the Mother of Perpetual Succour Monastery in Joinville, France in 1994 until they bought the island of Papa Stronsay on 31 May 1999.

Looking at their blog it does not look like a rather nice place for a retreat, I would not use the term "extreme" theology, I was use the term "harsh", the whole discipline is reminiscent of something from the middle ages, and one wonders how they maintain this way of life. I don't think that I shall criticise them, yet, I wonder, how is possible to maintain that way of life and yet still allow oneself access to the inter web, as they appear to have a blog and a dreaded Facebook account, this does not strike me as adhering to the strict rule of the order?

I note that within the whole of the SSPX there appears to be a conflict regarding the internet and it's usage. I recall a sermon in which Bishop Richard Williamson expounds the dangers and great evils of the internet and how it is part of the modern corruption of our times. Within ten mins the Lord Bishop changed his mind and said that the internet was good in bringing like minded people together. It must be rather difficult to stand one way or the other on this issue. However, you would think that being an anti-modernist  the internet would not even get a look in. Well you would be wrong.

Bishop Richard Williamson, positively medieval except when it comes to the internet.

I must admit that I do have a soft spot for the SSPX, their Bishops, Priests, and Religious. When one want's to examine what the pre Reformation, Pre Vatican II Church, one simply looks to them and I must confess that they do a very good Mass, albeit in a dead language that no one understands, not even that but the Latin itself is of very poor quality. Now the Pope has brought them back to the fold, well very good. I say "the" Pope, because he is not my Pope, thankfully I am an Anglican, mind you in saying that we have some odd balls in our Church, and in fact if I were a Roman Catholic I would be inclined towards the SSPX, at least they preserve the traditional liturgy. In that Provence of the Anglican Communion that holds my heart, Ireland, I am concerned at the lack of respect for the liturgy.

There are clergy who do not wear proper attire, do not use the prayer book, do not even bow at the name of Christ, and woe betides the day when they should administer the body of our Lord as a wafer. Such people have no respect for tradition, or indeed heritage. They think that church is a gimmick factory for their mad cap ideas. There is at least one Temple of the Lord in East Belfast that I am familiar with. It calls itself "Anglican", yet what I saw there was very far from Anglican, it was positively Presbyterian/Baptist/Pentecostal, with a complete lack of Catholicity, reason, and tradition. No Prayer Book. 

St Brendan's Church, Sydenham, East Belfast, Diocese of Down and Dromore. What's wrong with this picture?  The answer is that this is an Anglican building, although you may be forgiven for thinking that it was a "Gospel Hall", with the graffiti on the front. This is part of the problem for the Church in Northern Ireland, it is loosing it's identity and succumbing to trends rather than adhering to tradition. Tradition which has been handed down to us from the Apostles, and from the Celtic Church. That was ever so slightly tainted in the middle ages but was recovered in the Reformation and was thus preserved throughout the centuries. Some clergy would do well to remember that the reason why tradition is important is because it is a Spirit that has been tested, and has not been found wanting. I am dubious of gimmicks that have not been tested.

On the other side of the river Lagan is a church that claims or rather declares itself "Anglo-Catholic", this is rather funny because it is not Anglo-Catholic, it is let's pretend to be Anglo-Catholic in our liturgy. Yes of course the clergy dress up, but the celebration of the Eucharist is not presented in the Anglo-Catholic tradition, and of course they use the Book of Common Prayer, not the English Missal. How funny, look's Catholic, doesn't smell Catholic (no incense, forbidden by Canon Law), sounds Anglican. That is what we in liturgical circles call "A joke". The one thing they have mastered in that particular church is the snobbishness, arrogance, and inflated ego of say Westminster Abbey or St George's Chapel Windsor. A window cleaner would not be welcome, which is rather amusing given that in the good old days Anglo-Catholics were the slum missionaries.... how times have changed.

So you see we Anglicans could do with a Bishop Richard Williamson and an organisation in the style of SSPX, an organisation to meet the trendy "Vicars", with good old fashioned Catholic tradition.

Titanic Trash !



It would seem that at long last the madness that satirised the media and the people of Northern Ireland is finally coming to an end. With all the hype and the hysteria propagated by the television and the newspapers over the last three weeks one might be forgiven for thinking, what on earth was the point of it all and what useful purpose did it actually serve.

The grand structure that dominates the Titanic Quarter in the old "Yard", is finally open. It is a glorious sight, so I am told, yet I will reserve judgement until I actually visit the so called masterpiece. I am not convinced that it was worth the millions it cost to build it. Is it more profitable to the people of Northern Ireland that a man should die on a hospital trolley in the Royal Victoria Hospital, (part of a litany of problems within the NHS in NI), or to have this beautiful building that is simply a delight to the senses?

On Sunday last we had the pleasure of watching the so called great and good of Belfast City Council unveil the "new" Titanic Memorial Garden. What was wrong with the old one is beyond me, but frankly it must have been very important to flutter Belfast Rate Payers money away on this, rather than deal with the social housing shortage in the city. Oh it twas a grand affair, I daresay Ismay, Captain Smith, Thomas Andrews and the faithful departed would have been proud to have Brian Kennedy sing "You raise me up" in the hallowed hours of a Sabbath Morning. I am not a member of the Lord's Day Observance Society, but if I would join if they are against Brian Kennedy singing on a Sunday morning.

Then we had the delightful Noel Thompson, of BBC Newsline fame, prancing about on stage, his last "Hurrah" I suspect before he is replaced by a younger model, although Mark Cruthers hardly qualifies.

A simple affair would have sufficed, not this mockery that we had to endure on Sunday. I use the term mockery for that is what it was. Memories of tragic events are often kept deep within the soul and that is were they should stay. Rather than using it as the "flagship" to advance the image of Northern Ireland World Wide. Perhaps in another 100 years we will have commemorations of the bombings and shootings of the conflict, indeed they could host the MTV Music awards in the Bogside on the anniversary of Bloody Sunday !

It's not all doom and gloom, a load of Titanic Enthusiasts or should that be sycophants went to the grid coordinates of the sinking. How charming. How repulsive. Hopefully this is the end of the end of the matter and we can all get on with the rest of our lives.

A Relic of the Past?

The Solemn League and Covenant of Ulster.




Many, many families across Northern Ireland will have this document, either proudly on display, locked away safely, or in the attic, gathering dust and long forgotten.  This year is the 100th year of the signing of the Covenant, many who signed it, (including members of this Numenorian Exile), marched to Belfast City Hall, (and other places across Ulster, including those counties that now form part of the Republic of Ireland), and signed it with their blood. It was the turning point in Irish history and as every good schoolboy knows it was the Unionist reaction to the Home Rule Crisis. The document itself is a fantastic statement for the reader, it mixes political ideology, religious language, and economic worries.


Is it now however a relic of the past? I personally think that it is, given the current situation or rather, (as it is popularly called these days in political circles) the "Northern Ireland Project", 100 years on and we are still part of the Union, the link has been retained, so in that respect the Covenant has been fulfilled. It is interesting to note that it is called a "covenant", when one thinks of covenant our minds instantly return to the Hebrew Bible, God and Noah, Abraham and God etc.. this was the point, this covenant when signed (in blood or ink), was to be treated in the same manner, it was a sacred bond between the signer and his maker, hence the emotive religious language used within it.


As the link has remained unbroken that means that the Covenant has been fulfilled? Does that mean that perhaps it is time for a new Covenant? A Covenant for the Northern Ireland Project as it were?


That would be rather interesting, a new Covenant, perhaps along the lines of, "Being convinced that we are all good people we shall henceforth live in peace with each other, regardless of class, colour and creed". In saying that I doubt it would have many signers.

When Jesus Came to Birmingham

When Jesus Came to Birmingham

When Jesus came to Golgotha, they hanged Him on a tree,
They drove great nails through hands and feet, and made a Calvary; 
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, red were His wounds and deep, 
For those were crude and cruel days, and human flesh was cheap.

When Jesus came to Birmingham, they simply passed Him by. 
They would not hurt a hair of Him, they only let Him die; 
For men had grown more tender, and they would not give Him pain, 
They only just passed down the street, and left Him in the rain. 

Still Jesus cried, 'Forgive them, for they know not what they do, ' 
And still it rained the winter rain that drenched Him through and through; 
The crowds went home and left the streets without a soul to see, 
And Jesus crouched against a wall, and cried for Calvary. 

G. A. Studdert-Kennedy 

The Destiny of the Righteous

A short reflection by Noble Knight.

Today I attended the Thursday Bible Study at the University Chaplaincy Office, run by the University Anglican Society, of which Noble Knight is a member. Today we examined the text of John's Gospel, chapter 15, "Jesus the True Vine". I was struck by verse 18, "If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you". I have read this Gospel many times in the past, indeed the language of an almost poetic nature in John's writings has always appealed to me. Yet today, when we as a group read chapter 15, I could not help but be moved by this verse, for it truly sums up the destiny of the righteous man. For as Christ says the righteous man will be hated.

In the book, "The Wisdom of Solomon", chapter 2 v12-, gives an all to accurate description of what people think of the righteous man and what shall be his fate-

"Let us lie in wait for the righteous man, because he is inconvenient to us and opposes our actions; he reproaches us for sins against the law, and accuses us against our training. He professes to have knowledge of God, and calls himself a child of the Lord. He became to us a reproof of our thoughts" 

"Let us test him with insult and torture, so that we may find out how gentle he is, and make trial of his forbearance. Let us condemn him to a shameful death"

Even in the Hellenistic world Plato writes of the fate of the "Just Man" in The Republic that the people set about to have him impaled. For such is the fate of the just in the world. This Lent I have been thinking about the goodness of Christ, the man who went about healing the sick, raising the dead, and restoring sight, for such was the man that lived. He was received by the people, but humanity abused this good man and impaled him with nails on the criminals cross.

As Christians we must, at this time in particular, remember the journey to the Cross, what happened before the passion. Christ on earth, what he did and how we humans rejected him, never again will we have such a self revelation of what we as creatures are inherently like.

Therefore, let us reflect on Christ's time on earth during this season of Lent, let us follow his example, as the liturgy says, let us deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him.

Reflection: The Billy Plays

Today I watched the final instalment of the BBC's , "Billy Plays", this episode was called, "A Coming to Terms for Billy". I must say that it was refreshing to watch a drama set in Belfast in the late 1970s, that focused on the day to day lives of working class Protestant folk from South Belfast, (incidentally the writer, Graham Reid,  of the plays is an old boy from my school, Gransha Boys High, which just goes to show that talent did come from Gransha). The South Belfast of that era has changed, the terrace streets have been demolished, yet in some parts of the city, my own native East Belfast for example, still retain those little streets with their distinctive character and charm.

The plays reminded me somewhat of my childhood in Belfast, and of some of the characters that I met on a daily basis, although I was born in the 1980s, growing up in the early to mid 1990s, East Belfast still retained the spirit that is evident in the plays. I felt rather emotional as I watched the final scene, when the whole family stepped out their front door and an "Ould Flute Band", was marching up the street. It's funny, but for some reason I felt a strange warming of my heart, as I recalled the experiences of my youth. Perhaps I am looking at it with rose tinted glasses, I don't rightly care, for me they were happy memories. Standing outside my Grandmother's hair dressing shop on the Woodstock Road, during those long summer days, (It's funny how you never remember a bad summer), and watching "The Bands", we never thought it was political in our childhood, we just loved the music and the colour of the whole thing, which brought a cheerful change to the humdrum of day to day life.

I was so impressed by these experiences that I ended up becoming a part of the parades, but perhaps it would have been better if I had just stayed as a spectator, for once I was in the whole thing changed, not for the worse you understand, but just because it was different from my childhood. I will always hold those memories in my heart. The sound of the big base drum echoing of the narrow streets, bouncing from house to house, the beautiful banners, with their images of William III (King Billy as we knew him), the array of sashes, and most of all the atmosphere, for it was never as it is portrayed now, there was a real sense of fun about the whole thing, and it was always a great time. Now as an adult I am cynical about the whole thing, I don't know why, perhaps because the bands have changed, (Indeed they have, which is a great pity, particularly in Belfast), more so because I have changed.

The characters in the Play remind me so much of people that I encountered in my childhood, not so much now, because all the real Belfast characters have gone. The father big Norman Martin, this tough, (We would say Hard), fella who everyone was afraid of, was like a certain individual I remember, when he came down the street all the kids would hide. Then there was Uncle Andy, an ould boy, sick and a chronic moaner, I knew someone like that, his mannerisms from spitting tobacco in the fire to bringing his chum round for a game of draughts reminds me so much of someone I knew. The to sisters, the youngest in the family remind me of friends that I once had, phrases such as, "I'm going up to play on the conner", "Am I allowed out", "No ones allowed in", hanging about the entries (that's ally ways to those who don't speak Belfast talk) with your mates, all that was in my childhood, and it is gone. Perhaps it is not that I yearn for the Belfast of my youth, perhaps it is that I yearn for my youth.

I have included this link to a 12th July Parade in 1976, walking along Templemore Avenue, I know that area well, but more than that, you will see just how different it was then, it is sad in a way. Hopefully it won't all die.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5JiMgeFG8o

Reflection on the Transfiguration Sunday Service

The Right Rev Dr Robert (Bob) Gillies 

Bishop of Aberdeen and Orkney

My last two blog entries include the service sheet for this mornings worship, I thought that it would be interesting to share it, as I am always very impressed with the liturgical strength of each service that I attend in St Andrew's Cathedral Aberdeen. 

This morning had the pleasure to have company both on the way to the Cathedral and also during the service. My friend is a member of the Greek Orthodox tradition, and I had invited her to attend St Andrews with me this morning. I was delighted to see her waiting for me on King Street, and we braved the ice and the remnants of the previous evenings snow fall to attend worship in the Cathedral.

On arrival to the Cathedral I was dismayed to see that yet again the door was closed, indeed my friend remarked, "Is it open", I instantly though back to the post I published on this blog last Sunday, it seems that I was quite correct in my assumption, that members if the public, (who did not know the Cathedral), would have thought that the Cathedral was closed, regardless of the very small notice board at the front.

On entrance we were greeted by a gentleman greeter, who smiled and handed us the liturgy and the hymn book. We advanced down the isle, my friend did not like the fact that I sit somewhat in the middle of the body of the Church, as she would prefer to sit near the front. Anyway, I offered to sit at the front but she said it was not an issue.

As we sat in the pew, (naturally after we had both prayed), we conversed about the surroundings that we found ourselves in, we both agreed that the main problem with the Cathedral is that in appears, (to the untrained eye), to be in a state of decline, which is rather sad considering the great liturgical worship that goes on there. This was something that the bishop alluded to in his sermon when he said, "As you try to raise funds to refurbish the building", I must confess that this is the first time I had head of such a fund.

The procession was stately and it was a shock that the bishop was taking the service, but a good shock because I have heard the bishop preach before on no less than two occasions in very different settings, Armistice Day Service held in Kings College Chapel, 2007 and on the Feast of St Margaret Queen of Scotland, St Margaret's Church, Gallowgate, Aberdeen. Each time he amazes me with his evangelical zeal and his message is often very powerful and profound.

I was not disappointed, the bishop has this wonderful way of bringing everyone together, indeed his innovations are welcomed and in my view only a good thing. During the "Peace" he made a point of going round everyone in the congregation, even when the Offertory hymn was being sung. That's the type of bishop I like, one that gets down with the laity. His sermon was excellent, he preached on the Transfiguration of our own lives as Christians, when we become Christians, he drew from the story of Jacob sleeping on the stone and meeting the LORD in a vision, afterwords Jacob anointed the stone with oil and blessed it. The bishop said that when we become Christians it is as if we like Jacob meet the LORD, and then we anointed ourselves with the Holy Oil. The bishop then allowed us to meditate on what it must have been like for Jacob, to feel the power of the LORD beside us. I must say, it was indeed a very powerful experience. 

I was impressed that the children were not brought in during the Sanctus this time, unlike last week. They came in during the Offertory Hymn, although this nearly caused a traffic jam in the aisle, with the elements being delivered, the collection plate going round, and the bishop making sure that he shared the peace with everyone. I took to heart what the bishop said at the start, we must make sure we talk to the strangers in the pew, which caused a rather funny incident to occur at the end of the service, a lady walked up to me and said, "Oh sorry, I thought you were a stranger, I came to speak to you, just taking the words of the bishop on board", I laughed and said, "It must be my new glasses", she also laughed.

Yes today was a great service, the bishop is wonderful to listen to, one slight criticism, he tends to be ever so over dramatic during the Eucharistic Prayer, but still, he has power, and that is what is important at the end of the day.

For Robert our Bishop, and for all who bear Christ's name;

that their lives may proclaim your glory,

we pray to you, Oh Lord.

The Reverend and Right Honourable The Lord Bannside PC: A Reflection.

Reading this weeks Newsletter, (A paper published daily in Northern Ireland), I was delighted to read that Ian Paisley is out of intensive care and talking to his family. He is without doubt one of the dominant Irish statesmen of the last century, he is if truth be told, rather like Marmite, "you either love him or you hate him". I thought that I would type this little reflection, and hopefully not give into passions, for you see the problem is that when people talk about, "The Doc", they tend to be extremely passionate, and have jaded views one way or the other. I am not typing an historical essay, nor am I typing a critique, this is simply a reflection of the man as I have known him.

My first memory of, "The Doc", (a nickname that he was given in East Belfast, because of his D.D), was walking into a polling station with my Grandmother at the tender age of six. I entered the polling booth with my Grandmother and noticed that she put her X beside the name of Ian Paisley, as we walked away I bellowed at the top of my voice, "My Grandmother has voted for Big Paisley", my Grandmother was rather nonplussed to say the least. He, himself was not at the polling station, and to be frank, my memory of the rest of that particular day is somewhat abstract,  but that is my first memory of the Doc. Aside from that incident, there were family tales. mother and grandfather would often tell me that the Doc was fond of a restaurant called, "The Red Rooster", on the Cregagh Road, and could often be seen the eating.

All through my childhood I recall the great power of his voice, he had some skill, as people would say. I myself mimic the Doc's voice, better so than many impressionists, but it was his distinctive voice on the television, and on the radio, when you heard him you were hooked. As I grew up I became more inclined to the political scene in Ulster, and it is fair to say that I did become a staunch Paislyite, both in theology and ideology, (although my ideas, thoughts, and emotions have developed since then, and I am afraid to say that I am anything but a Paislyite), he was always there, all through the days of my youth, on the TV, on the radio, in the papers, fighting the good fight, as I used to believe, a prophet for his people, what he said was the truth, and we would follow him wherever he would go. As the reformation hymn says, "Our bull work never failing", that was the Doc, he was after all one of us, he was not from the realms of the middle to upper classes, he was from our level, his detractors call him a rabble rouser, his sycophants call him a statesmen, to me he was simply one of the characters of day to day life.

As I have reached maturity, I am still impressed with him, although I disagree with his theology, he has come in from the fringes, and now become an institution in his own right. I look forward, God willing, to the publication of his memoirs, I imagine them to be a fantastic insight into the man, his life, and his mission. People will have their own views of the man, from both extremes of the divide, but to me he was a character, a man whose voice I could mimic to make my friends laugh.

Sexagesima Sunday Service at St Andrew's Cathedral

This morning I attended worship at the Cathedral Church of St Andrew, King Street, Aberdeen. It was a dry morning, and the sun was shining in all it's glory, it now feels more like spring, "Thanks be to God". The service starts at 10:45, so I normally arrive at half past ten, in order to prepare myself to partake in the Eucharist. I have noticed that for some reason, known only to themselves, the cathedral staff do not have the door open, rather one has to open the door, it's not a very nice feeling doing that, imagine if a member of the public walked up and saw the door shut, they would presumably believe the Church to be closed.

There were two greeters at the door, elderly women of the cathedral, who with a smile and a, "Good Morning", handed me the liturgy, service sheet, and hymnal. I advanced down the aisle to the pew that best suited me, not to fat back, and not to far to the front, just perfect for someone like me, who still holds the protestant ethic of sitting at the back. I knelt and prayed, as is my custom, and watched the Cathedral fill up, there was around 30 to begin with. Later the Nigerian element came in, late and bumped the numbers up to a nice round 50.

The service was jolly, and quite up lifting, the ten minute sermon, was a little blasé, to say the least, and the traditional quote from the Lady Vicar, "continuing on with last weeks theme", what pray tell, would happen if you were not there last week? I was however, and I did not pick up any theme last week, nor did I pick one up this week, there was a slight message there, under a mire of repetition of the Old Testament Lesson, which was the story of the healing of Naman the leper, a slight message, but rather rushed, and I still have not picked up the theme, which is supposedly self worth.

I was very disappointed with the prayers and intercessions, rather rushed I thought, I know how it works, in reality there should be several intercessions, but alas I think I counted four, and they were rushed. I hope that I don't sound to critical, because I must emphasise that the service was uplifting and the Eucharist was as usual, extremely beautiful, and the music was divine.

There is one thing, that I really can't let drop, so much so that I am considering writing to the Cathedral staff, during the Sanctus they trooped in the children, it was very disrespectful.

                                                               

Falkland Islanders say Argentina is waging and economic war.

This week I will be adding the Falkland Islands to my daily prayers, far be it from me to engage in political debate, yet I know that Argentina is in the wrong.

There are political mind games, going on, and as usual people are suffering, I will remember the Parish of the Falkland Islands in my prayers.

Mrs Fernandez Kirchner, a bitch ?

http://www.penguin-news.com/  

Christ Church Cathedral, Falkland Islands

Visit to Glasgow Cathedral.

Glasgow Cathedral, also called the High Kirk of Glasgow, also called the Cathedral of St Kentigern, also called the Cathedral of St Mungo, is located quite near to Buchanan Street Bus Station, which gave me ample opportunity to explore it, when I had some time to kill between buses.

I had no idea how to get to the Cathedral, I asked a local chap, who worked at the bus station, ho to get to it. He had no idea, although he suggested that it may be along Cathedral Street, which as chance would have it, it was. I was delighted to approach the building from the direction of Cathedral Street, because one could clearly make out the Gothic spire in the distance. I was, to say the least, rather stunned when I approached this gloriously Gothic building, for I did not expect to find such a jewel in Glasgow, but be assured, dear reader, that the area in which the Cathedral is situated, leaves one in no doubt, that this is a "Reformed area", before you even reach the Cathedral doors, you are greeted with the "John Knox" museum, I did not venture in on this occasion, but I will be sure to put my beak in, the next time I have a chance. High above the hill behind the Cathedral is Glasgow Necropolis, on the summit of the hill is the "John Knox Memorial", in style rather similar to Nelson's Column, London. There he stands, the great Reformer, atop a perch peering down at the medieval Cathedral, inspiring Protestant thought, and defending the people from Catholic tendencies.

I walked slowly to the front of the Cathedral, the first thing one notices, is that there appears to be a lot of regeneration work on the outside of the Cathedral, for scaffolding and builders are there in abundance. I noted that above the main door, the West door, there appeared to be a portal, that displayed vandalism of the Reformation era, for you would expect to see in this portal, at least Christ in majesty with the just on one side, and the dammed on the other, not so on this particular façade, for it appears that hammer and chisel have taken that away.  It is at this point that I should add, that although I ma referring to the building as a Cathedral, it is not a cathedral, for it does not contain the throne of Bishop, rather the term Cathedral is used in it's historical context, for the building once was a Cathedral, indeed it is said to contain the tomb of St Mungo, "Ora pro Nobis", the alleged tomb serves as an altar in the crypt chapel, indeed I prayed there, in that most ancient of places.

I entered the Cathedral form the south side, and I was walked in, I was struck by the sheer space inside, I did not ask the Presbyterian in the Blue Geneva "ish" gown, to guide me, for I have an understanding of the places, and I knew where I wanted to go. First to the High Altar, then to the Sacristy, then to the crypt. Indeed the place was stunning, beautiful, magisterial, one could feel the centuries of Christian inspired worship in this place. The High Altar is beautiful, a shame that it is not used for it's intended purpose, then down I went to the crypt, which is worth visiting alone, for it is resplendent with medieval Gothic arches, ancient pillars, and all the glories of that past era, no wonder Sir Walter Scott wrote about in his novel of Rob Roy, indeed I would not be surprised to learn that the building somehow inspired his romantic vision of the middle ages.

I chanted a Kyrie Elison in the Lady Chapel, I wonder if that is the first time that Latin has been heard in those hallowed places, since the time of the Reformation, I really felt the ancient of days, present there with me, and I encourage all peoples, who visit Glasgow, to take the time to visit that place

                                               Looking down from the High Altar. (The Rood Screen)

                                                    The Tomb of St Mungo, Patron Saint of Glasgow