Music for the soul: Be Thou my Vision

Going a little off the point for NaBloPoMo, but still on a theme of hymns...

It may take a moment to get to the point, re. the title of this blog entry:
do bear with me...
Several years ago, in conversation with a pal, we were talking about funerals we'd been to.  Having put the world to rights about why this or that was perhaps not very good, or why such and such was really rather excellent, we moved on to our own funerals: what would we like when the day came?
While it ended up becoming one of the funniest conversations I've had, it was eminently practical as well. Said friend, normally a pretty quiet and
self-composed person, declared in the end:
'No! I want to go in style - I want the full works! I want a horse-drawn hearse; the horses -
with black feather headdress, a man to lead the hearse in front,
walking slowly and seriously. I want to be taken to the church that way,
with the beat of a slow drum to keep time. And then, the total pomp
and ceremony of a funeral Mass - with clouds of incense.'
We talked on, of readings, and hymns, and giggled our way through
the thought of hiring professional mourners, as they did, back in the day.
As an aside, said friend is a Pisky, with a seriously well-developed sense of
humour, and so high up the liturgical candle that you're in danger of nose-bleed...

The practical and pragmatic outcome of the conversation was, however,
a prod to go to the solicitor and get the will sorted. In said will, there's
also a funeral arrangements file. Dull Presbyterian that I am, and knowing
I'd never compete with friend, I've noted who I'd like to conduct the thing -
if they happen to still be shuffling about this mortal coil,
and also noted a bible reading and hymn.
The reading? The Prologue of John.
I am nothing, if not an incarnation nut - that text goes deep.
It's almost the best thing about Christmas worship for me:
God's 'yes' to the world.
The surprise of expected, yet wholly unexpected love.
And the hymn?
Always, always, 'Be Thou my Vision'
Text and hymn meeting in beautiful symmetry.
The version I like the best has the line:
'be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight'
It's a comfort, especially on my more numptyish of days,
for this 8 on the Enneagram.
A reminder that in the end, it's actually going to work out fine -
that when I've lost all shred of dignity,
I stand in God's dignity.
That, in a job that's about being real,
which calls me to strip away the pretence,
God's dignity suffices.
There's the reminder to, about delight.
Delight is good.
Delighting in God, better.

blades of grass, rejoicing: finding the joy in Calvin

'There is not one blade of grass, 

there is no colour in this world 

that is not intended to make us rejoice'  

 John Calvin - from a sermon on 1 Corinthians

Poor John Calvin: he gets such a bad press as a joyless, dour, dusty and dry academic. 

There is so much more to him than the cardboard cut-out caricature. 

A man of his times, who had to make hard, occasionally unpalatable choices, 

yet he was not without joy. Behind the myriad words he left behind are gems 

such as the comment, above. 

Calvin took delight in order. 

Whether it was the manner of his faith and how it was to be arranged and attended to, 

the way governments were to be administered, 

the movement of one note to the next musically, 

or the tiny perfect detail found in the shape of a blade of grass, 

Calvin's faith was one based upon the beauty of simplicity, 

even amidst the very complexity of his theological thoughts. 

In an age of so much change, that quiet yearning for order, 

and of equating orderliness with godliness is wholly understandable.

There are hard sayings of Calvin, but that is not the entirety of the man.

I'm minded to re-read The Institutes once more, with a view 

to going deeper into an understanding of his spirituality. 

The last time around, I was just trying to get to grips with 

the thing as a system of theology in and of itself, particularly relating to church discipline. 

Now without the constraints of a thesis deadline, 

perhaps it's time to reflect on this work through a slightly different lens - 

to spend more time amidst blades of grass, rejoicing; finding the joy in Calvin.

For Jase: 'and now I live, and now my life is done'

Holy Week is not meant to be all light and fluffy.
This, I know.
It is harder this year.
Monday saw me saying that most final of goodbyes to someone who,over the last 6 years, had moved into the 'jolly good pal' category.
It is a small group, and now, even smaller.
Latterly, as we meandered our way through very different PhD's, Jase was always there with a droll remark, an encouraging comment, or occasionally, a 'get on with it woman!'
His humour could make me snort my tea in a most unseemly manner.
He had the keenest mind I've ever encountered, was an avid Whovian, a lover of 'weird French stuff' [existential French theology], a generous spirit, and underneath a woolly-jumpered exterior, an unfailingly kind man.
Jase was an inspired giver of gifts: amongst many treasures [occasionally Knoxian], I rejoice not only in being the proud possessor of possibly the world's largest teapot [16 mugs or 20 cups...'great for the kirk session'], but also a Cthulhu mobile phone case...
He was one of the good guys, and the greatest gift, was of course, his friendship.
Right to the last, his courage and humour and kindness remained.
Having managed, through heroic efforts to finish his doctorate and graduate last July, he died just before his book was about to be published.
I shall miss him, and echoing the sentiments of another close pal 'I feel robbed.'
Too soon.
Too soon.

I'm minded of a poem written by another one whose life was also cut too short, although in vastly different circumstances.  The poem was written on 19 September 1586 by Chidiock Tichborne on the eve of his execution for treason - he was involved in the Babington Plot to assassinate Elizabeth.
However, while Jase could think the occasional dire thought, an assassin he was not!  Nevertheless, regardless of circumstance, the poem just seemed oddly fitting...

Tychbornes Elegie:

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, 

My feast of joy is but a dish of paine, 
My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.
The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
My fruite is falne, and yet my leaves are greene:
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
And now I die, and now I was but made.
My glass is full, and now my glasse is runne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

the day of the Doctor(ate)

So, this is wot I did yesterday...

being doffed by Knoxy's breeks...

If Saturday evening was the 'the Day of the Doctor', Tuesday morning at the McEwan Hall was the day of the doctorate.  A marked lack of sonic screwdrivers on Tuesday, however there were plenty of red degree tubes

a rather large bottle of gin...

A rather excellent day indeed - even despite the rain!

a slightly damp doctor... :)

I continue to be amazed at the many kind words, good wishes, and encouragement - gosh, I am very, very blessed indeed.

Now, what to do with the enormous bottle of gin my Prof gave me, I wonder...?  :)

is there a doctor in the house?

It ain't a pretty gown, but it *is* a doctoral gown, and given a happy viva experience on Thursday afternoon, I have earned the right to wear said gown.

The viva itself was, bizarrely, excellent fun and I enjoyed it immensely.  It also helped that when I walked into the room, both examiners had big smiles on their faces and commented that they'd enjoyed reading it - had to fight off the urge to go 'really?'  From the outset, then, the signs were good, and they were very skilled at ensuring I was relaxed.  An hour passed in a moment, and then I was told to daunder off while examiners conferred.  Walked out to my waiting supervisor and grinned and said 'it was actually fun!'  About five minutes later, we were both walking into the room, greetings and congratulations all round, and the inevitable corrections - albeit minor.  Ended up with 16 typos to fix; a request to move my pics and tables from the main body of the text into appendices [which made supervisor and self laugh - same conversation had been made last year and she had opted for main body of text...win some, lose some]; change my chapter numbering system; and a couple of 'just check this, is it right?' [I have, they are - idiosyncratic session clerk from 1580's and an early 16th century confessional guide - which spells 'first' as 'fist'].  The work itself is all fine 'n dandy.
So.  There we go.  Corrections to do and submit, and a graduation to sort out.  After back to back to back degrees, and 9 years of study, Dr Nik is leaving the New College building...

Johnny Knox, you've done me proud.

I am still grinning like a loon :) 

'lifelong learning' and the marking of a decade

Today marks another decade.
Where did it go?  Well, mostly it went at uni.
Ten years ago the seeds planted in my mind by a pal, who suggested that I 'might just like uni.' began to grow into the rather madcap idea that, well, maybe I just might indeed, and that...perhaps I might even be accepted as a stoodent. Encouraged by friends, I never imagined that sending off the form would lead to spending most of the following decade doing my B.D., followed by an accidental Masters, followed by a 'goodness, how did that happen' PhD. As I await my viva for the PhuD, continue to enjoy my probationary ministry placement, and mark this particular birthday, well... gosh...what an adventure this decade has been. :D

The pic above is me, aged 4, heading off to nursery school [an alarmingly 'Midwitch Cuckoos' feel to it!]
Who'dathunk that it would take quite so long to leave school...?
'Lifelong learning' indeed.

very big grin!

I have been grinning like a loon since 3pm yesterday afternoon.
Finally, several months after my self-imposed deadline...
THE THESIS HAS BEEN SUBMITTED!!!!!!
*ahem*
*continues grinning*
*dances a very happy dance*

Golly. 
Finished the final proofing on Wednesday evening at 9.30pm, emailed illustrious and esteemed supervisor with the news.
After parish visit in the morning, daundered into town to the printers, where in under an hour 3 copies [1 for me, and 2 for the examiners] of a thesis, printed and bound, were handed back to me.  Trogged across to the College office carrying the dead weight of Knox and arrived somewhat pink and 'glowing'.  Happily submitted the thing, then called lovely pal Penny and 10 minutes later we were in Peckham's having a wee celebration.  Amidst massive hugs and generous helpings of cheesecake and root beer, the thesis submission was duly marked. 
Then caught up with pal Nic... more happy celebrations...and then with Frannie and Eliz.  The celebration of submission was, if nothing else, beautifully trinitarian!
Onwards to the viva at some point.
I am beyond delighted to have finally got the thing in.

Carry on Concluding...

...which is what my academic supervisor wrote in an email over the weekend.  I have a very odd sound track in my head now, accompanied by Barbara Windsor roaming about; rather disturbing.

However... blogging as such has been pathetic / patchy and will continue to be so until I submit the thesis.  I am hoping to get the beast in on [appropriately] April Fool's Day.
This blog post, then, is by way of a place-holder until some vague normality returns to my life...which will hopefully be from April as I start probation placement and prepare to defend my thesis in the viva of dooooooom.  Subject to passing/ corrections, heck, I may even manage to get this thing done and dusted and mebbe even be doctored by the end of the year...
Wish my luck as you wave me [temporarily] goodbyeeee.

meanwhile, 96 000 words into the thesis...

*talking to earlier research Nikki version*
'gosh, I'm actually impressed - you really did do more than just play computer games when looking at this particular section of the thesis. Jolly well done self.' 

*earlier research Nikki*
'why thank you. There were indeed occasions when I needed a little distracting from rescuing naughty sorceresses and such-like. Although, I note with pleasure the return of that much-loved favourite game at this time of year 'Hunt the Haggis'. What impact do you think its return will have on your current thesis section?' 

*current research Nikki...furrows brow...looks up from game*

'Hmmmm? Ack, just missed a golden haggis in Loch Ness...' 

*earlier research Nikki*
'Ahhhh. Plus ça change'

*cue sound of gurgling haggis in background*

we ordain women because we baptise girls...

The thesis is, rightly, giving me little time to do anything else at the moment; I am immersed in the performances of penitential Protestants and desperately trying to write up.  I did pause, however, the other day to follow the live feed on the discussion and vote for/ against women being ordained as bishops in the CofE.

While I am not Anglican, I am grieving for friends who are - and for those in particular who are training for, or have been ordained into, the priesthood.  I never did quite understand why this was not sorted out when women were allowed to become priests in the CofE 20-odd years ago - by 2 votes I believe.  Then again, I have never managed to quite get my head around the fact that women being called to ministry is an issue - given 50ish% of humanity are women.   We ordain women because we baptise girls...!

The strange technicalities of voting meant that while an overwhelming majority voted in favour of allowing women to become bishops, the motion fell by just 6 votes; each of the three 'houses' needing to have a two thirds majority, which was not what happened in the house of laity.  I was reminded of our own arcane ways and processes: of motions proposed at General Assembly and sent down under the Barrier Act, that come back with a resounding 'no' a year later, this often based on the will of tiny presbyteries of 6 or 10 or 12 parishes who have the same power as larger presbyteries of 50, 80, or over 100 parishes within them. 

While I am not always convinced that the church should bring things in on a majority vote, neither am I convinced by the checks and balances that have been put in place with the (rightly so) intent to safeguard against whim, to ensure folk with different views don't get trodden on, etc.  What I am more convinced about, however, is that the systems in place within our institutions are set up in a default position that mitigates against bringing any kind of change.
No system put in place will please everyone; no system is perfect.
And yet, despite our flawed systems and institutions which seem to be built as monuments to fear, God still manages to manoeuvre between the cracks despite our 'best' intentions to stymie things.
I wonder what building systems based on trust would look like, and how they might work? 
Systems designed to work with God and each other in generous grace and mutuality and without the fear that needs to control who is in, who is out, and who gets to make the rules?

In the meantime, came across this courtesy of a friend, which is as fitting a response to what occurred within the CofE this week as I have seen:

When I am ordained, I shall wear purple
with killer heels and bright red lipstick
And I shall go round preaching from the Bible
...The liberating truth that Jesus calls women

and tell those who say otherwise that it is they,
not I, who are bad theologians.

I shall sit down with fellow clergy
when we are tired of fighting for equality
and going the extra mile with grace when we are put down,
And we will make up for it:
by encouraging one another as Scripture says,
and praying for those who abuse us,
and rejoicing that we are suffering
(but just a little bit) for Jesus,
And we might even eat some chocolate.

I will adopt the ordination name “Junia”,
and remind those who object,
that there may be a boy named Sue somewhere in the world,
but there probably isn’t.

But now we must face the world,
Who think we are traitors to our sex
For working for the Church
And face our brothers and sisters who think
We are being unbiblical
And face those in our Churches
who have failed to notice the pain this week has brought.
And we will go in the strength of Christ.
We will not turn our backs on our calling
Because God is not finished with the Church,
And He is faithful.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am ordained, and start to wear purple.

by Rev Mia Smith

Providence, plague, and punishment in Perth, 1585

When it comes to the public performance of
penance and the punishments given to offenders in early modern Scotland, context matters...

Perth, in October 1585, was being ravaged by the plague.  Having a providential view of God, the kirk was keen to root out any behaviour that had obviously caused God's wrath to visit the town in the form of the 'pest'.  Further, to demonstrate their repentance to the watching God, the kirk session had called for the townsfolk to undertake an octave [8 days] of ritual fasting.

On the 'first Sonnday of the holie communion and of publict fast' an unfortunate and, alas, unmarried couple George Makchanse and Elspet Cudbert were caught in flagrante delicto; buck naked in bed together.
In reaction to the dire horrors being visited upon the town, the session took an exceptionally dim view, and a very severe line.  George and Elspet endured a most public performance of repentance for the 'sclander' they had caused, and for the potential peril that they had placed the town in.
The minute of the session record notes that on the Saturday following, they were to be 'cartit bakwart throuche the town from the said Elspet house quhair they war apprehendit, haiffand paper hattis on thair headis, ...and thairafter to be wardit til Sonnday at quhat tyme the officiaris sall convoy thame with thair paper hattis to the the [sic] publict seat of repentance, that thair they may confes thair offence and ask god and the cong[regation] forgifnes for the sclander thay gaif and evil exampil to utheris to commit the lyk.'
[Perth Kirk Session Minutes CH2/ 521/1 f.117 - or see the wonderful Margo Todd's newly printed transcription, p325]

Being carted backwards physically and visibly demonstrated that George and Elspet had morally gone the wrong way, further, the said cart was very probably the dung cart and as it passed through the town with the hapless couple on board the townsfolk would have not only flung insults upon them, but would also have made use of rotten eggs and veg., dung and dirt.  The cart, having begun its journey at the 'scene of the crime', as it were, was then driven around the town, the most likely route taking them around all the town gates.  This ensured that the whole town saw the couple's disgrace and was able to demonstrate its displeasure.
As to the paper hats... often in public rituals paper hats, or badges made of paper were worn on which had been written the offence.  This further compounded humiliation and, in effect, was a witness to show why repentance was required.

After the humiliation of being taken around the town and being on display to all their neighbours, the couple were required to spend the night warded - those guilty of sexual sins were held in the kirk tower, which was infested with vermin, and being 12 sq. foot, very cramped.
The next morning, George and Elspet were then required to be symbolically on display to God in the kirk in the midst of the community of the godly.  Here, at the stool of repentance, situated in the front of the church just by the pulpit - thus facing the congregation - the couple were to publicly confess their sin, and having done so, ask forgiveness of God and of the congregation.  This ritual, designed to restore divine and neighbourly relationship, had the added spur of desperately trying to avoid further visitations of God's wrath upon an already hard-pressed community.  George and Elspet were viewed to have put the lives of their neighbours into deathly danger.  It is this context that frames the severity of the punishment meted out to them.
  
As an aside: the couple had already been marginalised from the rest of the community.  Suspected of being infected with plague, they were both holed up in the lodgings used for those with plague, situated outside the town wall.  They seem not to have succumbed; George's name was brought up before the session twice in the following March for having failed to marry Elspet as promised.  Elspet is later mentioned in 1587, complaining that her husband spends more time with his friend than he does her - there's no indication that the husband is George, however. 

From the autumn of 1584, plague had stalked the town mercilessly, ultimately resulting in a loss of approximately a quarter of its population - 1 427 people. In the January 1585, the only recorded instance in Perth of a couple being executed for adultery is noted.  Accompanying plague, famine was rife from February 1585, and the town was in a desperate situation.  The session administered poor relief, organised a rationing system, and as the monies from the poor box depleted, took the expedient step of allowing first time fornicators to pay fines for 'pious uses' instead of appearing on the repentance stool.  Todd observes that:
'in the midst of a natural  disaster understood as divine judgement for the toleration of sin, the need of the community to identify and eliminate the source of plague overcame the commitment of the kirk to securing repentance, amendment of life, and re-integration of sinners into the community of the faithful.... Reformed discipline amidst the crisis of epidemic disease gave way to sheer terror and primitive recourse to scapegoats.'
[Todd, The Perth Kirk Session Books, 44-45]

As I sit plotting my Perth Kirk Session spreadsheet and classifying the session minutes, there are far more entries concerned with administration matters - election of elders; settling communion examinations and arranging the distribution of communion; and organising poor relief. Within the three years of August 1584-1587 that I'm currently examining, what does seem to feature rather prominently are entries noting various couples wanting their banns of marriage proclaimed - if I haven't miscounted, these account for 155 in total.  The session entries in which severe punishments feature, and this includes excommunication, are the exception and not the rule.  Overall, between 1577-1590, there are only 6 excommunications recorded, for example, giving the lie to a common misperception that all the kirk ever seemed to do was to chuck folk out - rather, it was a case of the kirk doing everything it could to try to keep folk in.
Context matters.

Perp and Flick: when history and sermon collide

They kick off the start of the HCWR [History of Christianity as a World Religion] seminar series each year for 1st year undergraduates at New College. 
Having been both a student and, latterly, a tutor of said course they have a special place in my heart; 'they' being Perpetua and Felicity and the story of their martyrdom in the arena at Carthage somewhere between 203-211 CE. 
The first year I tutored this course, one of my lovely students presented her findings in the seminar complete with family holiday snaps - they'd been to the site of the martyrdom.  She also brought in some fantastic home baking - and yes, she got an 'A' :)  But I digress...
 
Why not go ahead and read The Passion of St. Perpetua, St. Felicitas, and their Companions?  Fascinating, disturbing, odd, and heroic in turns - what is rather fabby about it is that here is an early document that may have been actually written by a woman; highly unusual and for that fact alone - if we believe the claims of authorship - a must-read.

Having recently been listening to complaints re. the pointlessness of doing a degree in the pursuit of training for ministry, it delighted the cockles of my aged history-loving heart to read a sermon in which Perp and Flick feature.
So, with a shout-out to the wonderful Martha I link to the sermon for your edification and delight.

No, really, I am not doing any thesis-diverting, nope, not at all... plus, I have just written a paper for a conference next week... and I've done lots of work today, honest...
*wonders if this last smacks rather too much of desperate attempt at convincing self?*

swimming across the Tiber

View from the balcony, Apostolic Palace, the Vatican

Drookit student, balcony of Apostolic Palace, Vatican

And so I am back from a whirlwind trip to Rome.  It shall take some time to process, and the sheer number of sights and sounds have left me somewhat stunned into silence.

Some brief thoughts:
The sheer scale...
of buildings was dizzying - from the Colosseum, the Victor Emmanuel monument, St Paul's outside the walls, St John Lateran Basilica, and St Peter's - humans reduced to tiny ants scrabbling around their foundations.  Within the Vatican, the uncountable number of paintings and frescoes, statues and tapestries, gold, marble, and lapus lazuli, was almost impossible to comprehend.  Rooms filled with Raphaels and Michaelangelos, long corridors of maps drawn up in the 1580's.... The scale of history down through the ages as names popped out from long-forgotten - and currently opened on the desk - history books. 


The warmth... beyond the heat and humidity of the August sun beating down upon us, the warmth of hospitality of the folk at the Irish College where we stayed, and the delightful humour and wisdom of the rector, Father Ciaran. The cheerful enthusiasm of Monsignor Leo happily showing us around behind the scenes at the Vatican as we dripped on his marble floors on Monday evening, after being utterly drenched in a sudden storm.


Surreal and special moments...

Last Judgement, Sistine Chapel

standing quietly dripping from the rainfall, watching the play of late afternoon/ early evening light upon the frescoes in a hushed and empty Sistine Chapel, the Monsignor telling us the story of its creation...a complete privilege and a rare treat.

Catacomb communion

a wee while later, standing on the upper balcony of the Apostolic Palace, looking across to the roof-top statues of St Peter's Basilica, grinning with sheer joy in the midst of a sun-shower and wringing out my sodden shirt...

a couple of days on, walking along the via Appia Antica to the catacombs and then all of us having communion in the chapel in the catacomb of San Sebastian...




Still processing, but by golly, it was really rather marvellous... :)

It's good to talk... Colloquium 2012: women, language, and worship...

'Colloquium' - can be defined as 'a gathering or assembly for discussion' and indeed, that is what happened at our event yesterday afternoon. Good papers, stimulating discussions, stories shared: such was Colloquium 2012. Perhaps the award for best word could be given to one of our panellists, Margaret Forrester, who noted she was moving into her 'anecdotage' as she talked of experiences from her early days in ministry. Our conversations were broadened out wonderfully by the attendance of folk from other faith traditions: certainly both the Catholic Church, Scottish Episcopal Church, and the Church of England were represented.

The papers presented by Anne Logan, Finlay Macdonald, and Elizabeth Ursic were well received, and were also recorded. Both a podcast of these papers, as well as written copy will be posted in the near future on a separate page.

Why 'Colloquium 2012' all of a sudden? The planning group: Elizabeth Ursic, Fran Henderson, and Nikki Macdonald are already wondering about the possibility of another event about this time next year, and pondering themes: and so, 'Colloquium 2013' is already being discussed. Watch this blog for further updates as we ponder how to keep this conversation going.... In the meantime, the blog entries for 'Colloquium 2012' have been gathered and moved across to the 'archive' page in order to refresh the conversation.

Many thanks to all who came and joined in the conversation yesterday: it's good to talk.

Colloquium: Women, Language, and Worship in the Church of Scotland

 
Am currently distracted from my thesis - again - due to helping organise a conference:
Colloquium: Women, Language, and Worship in the Church of Scotland.

Set for the afternoon of June 7, it is beginning to shape up well.
Some good folk presenting papers in the first half of the conference:
Anne Logan, Finlay Macdonald, and Elizabeth Ursic.
This followed by a break-out time for small group discussion, and then discussion by panellists representing different generations of women in ordained ministry in the Church of Scotland.

I've set up both facebook and blog pages - do go visit for further details.
And maybe see you at the conference :)

tales of a tea-lady...

At some point mid-semester, possibly week 6 or 7, the fortnightly gathering of the 'Jane gang' aka Early Modern 'T' [aka those of us wot have Prof Jane as wise and illustrious supervisor] met.  Amongst other topics, the matter of getting organised and having some seminars was raised.  In one of those moments when you hear words coming out of your mouth while simultaneously hearing yourself inwardly shouting 'argh, shut up, just SHUT UP, argh', I heard myself making the suggestion of killing two birds with one stone and hosting a day conference for postgrads of the ecclesiastical history variety [the other bird being killed concerned an annual weekend residential conference for postgrads from the four ancient universities of Scotland, and held in Kinnoul.  This had had been running for years but had latterly quietly died... cue lots of conversations about different formats, how that might work, where, when, etc. but nothing that had quite managed to emerge].
The suggestion made, and taken up, a committee of four of us somehow put it all together, and on Tuesday 2nd 'The History of Christianity' conference was held at New College with a wide range of papers from patristics right through to the present, with said papers presented by postgrads not only from Scotland, but also from further afield.  A late withdrawal from a presenter on Thursday evening saw me taking a deep breath, consulting with supervisor, then hurriedly putting a paper together.  Not quite what I'd planned, as I had put myself down to be tea-lady and general dogsbody; rather a busy day. 
 
We were really pleased with the response and there was a good positive vibe throughout the day.  The academics involved were pleased with it all and it looks like we may indeed have found a new way of providing what Kinnoul offered: - a friendly, non-threatening environment for postgrads to test their ideas amongst peers and with the encouragement of academics.
Looks like we may have brought about an annual conference.
Delighted with how well it was received.

One particularly nice cherry on top of the week was being introduced to Diarmaid MacCulloch at a 'do' held at the Royal Society of Edinburgh last night - this as an adjunct to the Gifford Lectures, at which DM is the guest speaker this year [link will take you to the filmed lectures].

Wild fortnight, and utterly shattered, but in a good way.  :D

Of Cumbrae, conferences, and other such things...

A lovely time last week, which saw me at a worship conference at the Cathedral of the Isles on the Isle of Cumbrae.  This was put on as a pilot by Ministries Council as they explore reshaping the conference component of our training.  The conference itself was led in very chilled out fashion by John Bell - who told us stories, shared his insights and experiences, and got us all thinking and talking.  Unlike the usual conference frenzy of sessions and activities, with hosts of speakers on all manner of subjects, this smaller and more sharply defined conference gave time and space to reflect and be, as well as do.  I am still chewing on all the food for thought provided, but certainly think that as a way forward for how we learn in our time of training, this really worked very, very well.  It also helped that the setting was so scenic and that folk were able to go off and ponder quietly about the island, regroup, and then come back for more. 

In the meantime, I am once again ensconced in the halls of New College, working my way through kirk session records, knee-deep in 16th c. fornication, adultery, and drunkenness...and so I plough on with the thesis of doooom.