Picture prayers: On St Columba's Day

'St Columba on his farm in Scotland' - Anthea Craigmyle

I love this painting by Anthea Craigmyle of St Columba: a homely, earthy depiction, which also picks up that sense of cheerfulness much attributed to him [although I do feel a sense of the Pythonesque - hard to resist humming: 'Always look on the bright side of life].

O God, who gave to your servant Columba

the gifts of courage, faith and cheerfulness,

and sent people forth from Iona

to carry the word of your gospel to every creature:

grant, we pray, a like spirit to your church,

even at this present time…

[prayer from the Iona Community]

Of devilish breakfasts and good intentions

Late this afternoon I took time out to have a wee daunder up the
road to Small Country Toun [c.2 000] to catch up with a pal.
We settled into our usual seats in the pub, and the landlord
wandered across with some Rather Impressive Tomes.
Dusty.
Old.
Of the Improving Kind produced by stern Victorian gentlemen
of the Presbyterian persuasion.
'Given your trade, thought you might be interested in what I
rescued from the skip during the museum merger,' said the landlord.
[I take my 'minister being out and about in the community' role seriously -
friend of publicans, that's me. He and I have had guid blethers.]
One of the books contained some serious attempts at moral
improvement indeed. Two essays caught my eye...

In answer to that burning question we've always wanted to have answered...
Mind, the devil can have All Bran...I want Cornflakes or Fruit Loops.
*other brands are available*

...well, so they say - whoever 'they' are.

Look forward to wandering back in again to see what other rescued treasures the friendly 

landlord has found. 

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.

beyond words: St Bride by John Duncan

St Bride, John Duncan c.1913

Ever since I was introduced to this painting back in 1997, by the wonderful Mary Low, I have loved it.  Every time I visit the painting another detail catches my eye and makes me pause.  There's a richness of colour and movement that conveys so much without needing to resort to words, and which leaves me silent in its wake.
   
The subject matter is very much informed by the Celtic Revival/ Twilight movement, and my inner pedant wrestles slightly with my more romantic side because of the anachronism: St Bride being transported across the water - and through time - to Bethlehem at the birth of Christ, to act as midwife for Mary.  My mind flashes to Dr Who very briefly but, almost immediately, the beauty of the painting grabs me, and, like Bride, I too, am transported.  

At the centre, the stern face of the angel whose eyes, and indeed, whole body are focused forward upon the task and destination.  There's an immense dignity and strength, a strength seen in the angel's hands as it carries the precious cargo onward.  A suggestion of a cross with the angle of Bride's body echoing the angel's wing...Bride, the pious, who even in her sleep is seen in an attitude of prayer, and wearing white for purity.  

In contrast to the near-severity of the central angel, there's a tenderness in the leading angel's face, which turns back and looks upon Bride with care and compassion.  The richly detailed robes worn by the angels tell stories from the life of Christ.  Perhaps they also tell a story in miniature of the artist, John Duncan; on the leading angel, is the clown/ holy fool leading the procession a self-portrait of one who may have been a little mad?  Earthly creatures meet this heavenly procession.  Bobbing amidst the sea-foam, a seal crests the waves while two rather cheerful seagulls follow.  

I love how the subjects in the painting are not contained by the border: a halo, wings of angel and bird, and feet break free from the constraints that seek to impose order.  The artist perhaps thinking 'outside of the box' way before the term was coined.  

It is an odd thing, this.  Although I can describe various aspects of this painting, what I can't at all describe is how - or why - this painting moves me so, or why it is one of my favourites.  All I know is that, somewhere in the deep core of my being, the painting just strikes a chord in some way.  I could use the words 'transcendent', or 'beauty', but perhaps it's okay to accept that some things go beyond words.  

'One heart, one love': sermon for Easter 4A based on Acts 2:42-47

Acts 2: 42-47; John 10:1-10

Let’s pray:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, 

O Lord, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

As the poet, John Donne, famously wrote:

‘No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
...A part...

of the main.’

In our gospel text this morning, Jesus talks of coming 

that we might have life in all its fullness - abundant life...

And, as we listened to our reading from the Book of Acts -

the story of the very beginnings of the Church -

we discover that life in all its fullness

is not one that’s lived in isolation:

abundant life ...

the Christian life...

is necessarily ...communitarian:

we’re not called to live out our faith in glorious isolation;

we are the body of Christ...

one body, and each of us making up the many parts. 

Throughout this week, 

on the back of a couple of conversations with different folk, 

I’ve been pondering the question:

‘what is the Church?’ 

And in our reading from Acts we catch a glimpse 

of what church might be for those earliest of Christians -  

behaviours and ways of being that might act as wee touchstones or signs for us,

as we think about what church is.

So, let’s examine our Acts passage a little more.

We’ve already worked out that for the folk in Acts, community was important -

the text says that ‘they continued together in close fellowship’...

and ‘day after day they met as a group in the Temple.’

The comment that:

‘You don’t have to go to church to be a Christian’, 

is a comment that’s just not on their radar. 

And also, it just wouldn’t make sense to them:
‘go to the church?’

No.

They don’t have to ‘go’ to the church

because...    they ‘are’ the Church.

The Church, as the song goes,

is wherever God’s people are praising...

Or, as that other song observes:

I am the church

You are the church

We are the church together...

The Church is flesh and blood, not bricks and mortar...

‘the church is not a building,

the church is not a steeple;

the church is not a resting place;

the church ... is a people’

And these particular people in Acts 

clearly seemed to think that meeting up together - 

joining up with other parts of the church, as such - 

was somehow important, somehow helpful.

They were drawn to one another;

they had common purpose;

they were connected;

they had a common identity in and through Jesus:

united in one love

all beating as one heart.

Spurred on by this one love

this community

this very early part of the self-same Church that we, too, are a part of...

spent their time in learning:

they wanted to know more about Jesus;

they wanted to know of his teachings;

they wanted to know how, as his followers,

those teachings impacted upon their own lives, and the lives of those around them.

They were hungry to know more,

to work out how to walk the journey of faith.

It was a community of learning:

learning to be like the one they loved.

Spurred on by this love

this community 

found that the natural expression of their love for Jesus 

was through worshipping together as his people.

And so they ‘took part in the fellowship 

and sharing in the fellowship meals and prayers.’

It was in community that they remembered Jesus in bread and wine

and, as they did,

ordinary grape and grain took on a deeper spiritual meaning -

the everyday things of the world becoming sacred - sacramental;

nourishing them,

binding them closer together -

one love, one heart, one in spirit.

United in prayer, too,

as they remembered and said together

the prayer that Jesus had taught - 

that prayer which we still say.

It was a worshipping community:

worshipping the one they loved

and who loved them, utterly.

And, as they began to comprehend that great and utter love

this community was filled ...with awe.

Hearts and minds and souls

struck with the wonder of it all

as they went deeper into this faith,

deeper into what it was to be disciples,

deeper into the great love of God as revealed in the Son.

This was an awe-filled community:

marvelling at all that God had done

at all that God given for them.

That amazing, divine self-giving

caused the believers to respond likewise.

And, in what could be seen as a dream text 

to delight the heart of any church treasurer - 

where’s [treasurer's name]?! -
these earliest of Christians gave...and gave...and gave,

sometimes quite sacrificially -

because the thought that one may be in need and suffering

was enough to cut them to their hearts:
when one suffered, all suffered.

They gave what they had,

what they could,

so that none were hungry

none were homeless...

remembering those words that Jesus had said:

‘when you do this for the least

...   you do it for me.’

They cared,

they supported one another

and within that mutual support,

they shared hospitality as well -

eating together in each other’s homes.

It was a community of generosity:

a living parable of the generosity of the one they followed.

That generosity was also a demonstration

of their great sense of thankfulness to God.

They were truly humbled as they thought of God’s love,

of Jesus’ life and death and resurrection.

Thankful - and possibly not a little astonished -

as they pondered the thought that

the Creator of the Universe and of all contained therein -

the One beyond time and space

the One beyond human comprehension -

cared for them:

called them... ‘beloved’...

It was a community of thankfulness and praise:

delighting in the One who delighted in them.

As the early believers worked out what it was to be church, 

there were a couple of interesting knock-on effects:

first, the wider community saw what they did,

how they lived,

how they treated one another in response to their God...

And so it was that the church enjoyed 

the good will of the people around them -

the wider community.

Second, the way in which this church community behaved... 

piqued curiosity,

drew people to them,

and so their numbers grew.

...What is the Church?

What are the signs of the Church?

The Church is... us:

the Church is... community.

For faith, within the context of fullness of life

is not just a private and personal matter of

‘me and my God’

faith, and fullness, is much more expansive than that:

it’s about ‘me and my God ...and my neighbour’ - 

and my neighbour may be a fellow Christian, 

or someone who lives in the local neighbourhood,

or even someone who lives on the other side of the world, 

who we may not know, but who may be in need,

and who we can support through agencies such as Christian Aid.

Called to live within the context of community,

as God's people...as church:

together we learn about the faith

together we worship God

together we share with, and support, one another

together we give thanks and praise ...

because we recognise that this is what life,

life in all its fullness is about

as we follow  

the God who is bigger than the sum of our deeds

the taker of fears

and the giver of dreams..

the God who calls us to be his people

his community:

the God who is not finished with us yet,

despite the claims of some...

the God who is still speaking...

finish with clip...

 AMEN...

Star word #1: 'renewal' and 'reformation'

I have just been grinning at a friend's comment regarding her particular star word [waves to Mary Beth] and how she has been 'overthinking the hell out of' it.  Struck a major chord here as well: I have been quietly pondering and processing what to do with 'renewal' - but, then again, so has the Church for c.2 000 years so I'm not the only one to get into a fankle on this particular matter.

When Marci cast that star word loose across the 'interweb heavens, I confess that I sighed initially; my word didn't feel nearly so cool as 'imagination', or as inspiring as 'vision'...
My word felt like...hard work.
It felt like being bogged down.
It made me twitch and want to walk swiftly in another direction - any direction but starwards/words.
And so, I wondered 'why?'...and Mr Knox came, unbidden, to my mind.
'Perhaps this is thesis-associated,' he kindly offered.
'I suspect you're right, Johnny,' I replied.
'You know it makes sense, and also, you know I'm right - I always am.'
Although he's been dead for 442 years, over the years we've become comfortable - for the most part - in each other's company...

'Renewal' and 'reformation' are somewhat synonymous, and I've been wrestling with, and writing on, historical reformation[s] for the last 5 years.  Perhaps, then, this star word I have been gifted with is rather apt.  'Renewal' brings with it a sense of freshening up something, shaking out the dust, brushing off the cobwebs, and making a thing all shiny and new again - or as much as one can without it being a completely different entity.  'Reformation' suggests how a thing is shaped, or rather, re-shaped.  This raises the question: does the reshaping turn the thing at hand into a completely different object, or is it, although changed in the way it is formed, still the same in essence?

What I have learned about attempts at both renewal and reformation is that both require looking back in order to move forward.  The multitudinous reformations of the church over the ages - because there was more than just one that occurred in the 16th century - have always sought to recapture a sense of the energy and urgency, and perhaps the lack of institutional complexity, that seem to permeate the church in the age of the Apostles.  Here was a time in which things were shiny and new, where there was not as yet a particular, fixed shape.  On the other hand, this did not mean that new and unshaped meant without any sense of order, as the Epistles testify: even then, trying to make sense of how this new thing might work was important.

Over 2 000 years later, how do we as Christians make sense of this thing called 'church'?  And, if we are to renew and reform it [ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda - the church reformed and always being reformed], we need to know just what 'church' is.
It's not buildings.
It's people.
As the old song asserts, 'I am the church, you are the church, we are the church together.'
The church is organic: flesh and blood and bone.
It is also communal; not just 'me and my God, but we and our God'.
How do we pare away the accretions that slow us down, or distract us from living as Christ's body here on earth?  What are these accretions?
They are different for each of us... 
Looking back, to look forward, what have we in common with those in the church of the Apostolic era?
It's not buildings.
It's Jesus.
The One who calls us 'friends'.
The One who calls us 'brother' or 'sister'.
The One who calls us into a new relationship with him and who widens our understanding of 'family' to include all both now and throughout the preceding centuries - that great cloud of witnesses.

Perhaps each generation has to do a little spring cleaning, some freshening up of its own understanding of what 'church' is, to find anew that energy and buzz of the church in the Apostolic era.  Perhaps too, each generation has the task of making shapes - re-forming and restructuring and re-contextualising what it is to be church.  Although the shape may look and feel different, it is still the same in essence because, being organic, the church carries the spiritual DNA of Jesus, who is flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone.        

The work of renewal and reformation is hard work very possibly because it is borne out of a relational context - with God, and with one another - and the question that resounds through the ages is: how can we be church without actually killing each other?
In the end, does renewal and reformation - whether individually or communally - simply boil down to learning and relearning, and relearning once more how to love God, and to love your neighbour as yourself?

Ministry: walking and talking and praising God

It is an ongoing process, this working through what it is, what it means, to minister with, and to, the people of God.

At the moment, I am back to that old metaphor of walking:
walking alongside,

walking with,

occasionally walking behind, cheering from the back as gifts are nurtured and nourished,

sometimes walking ahead, with head turned back, and hand beckoning in encouragement:

'C'mon, it'll be okay, this is a story that has a great ending, which is really a whole new beginning.  Don't be afraid.'

I am also back to a favourite word as well: 'story'.
As I walk in my probationer-minister's shoes, I ponder place and time as I minister here and now at 'Seaside Parish', and think about how both weave in and through the lives of the community of folk that I have grown to love and care for.
And as a student of history with a fondness for 'the story', I think of the many stories written into the life of this community, past, present, and future; stories that I have been told, stories being uncovered whilst listening in a living room and drinking tea, stories of hoped-for outcomes or of hope snatched away.
Gathered together, in this specific place, at this specific time, there are many stories held together by that one common story of an unexpected expected child, in a far-away land, at a far-away time, who grew in wisdom and grace, who used stories to point the way to a larger, deeper story...who was crucifed, died, was buried, and who rose again, and who calls us 'friend'.
We are a community of story, and of journey...
sometimes walking together
sometimes walking apart
occassionally walking rather shambolically
every so often walking in ways that surprise and astonish and delight
but always, always
walking in the light of God's loving faithfulness.

Perhaps then, to be a minister, is to acknowledge that this is not a sedentary task we're called to - although knowing that it is good to rest is also important in order to walk more fruitfully.
Perhaps it is to acknowledge that this is not a silent task we're called to -
although knowing the value of wordless waiting is also important in order to hear the story better.
Is the minister, in essence, a wandering story-teller - wandering and yet rooted in the community one is called to:
proclaiming in word, and in symbols, in speech and in gestures, the great story of God's journey to us - and our journey away and towards, away and towards him?
It is exhausting and joyful, life-giving and gut-wrenching, it is littered with the trivial and mundane and shot through with the transcendant, it is inspiring and humbling and a hundred million things in-between...and I wouldn't swap it for the world.     

Tainted love: a sermon based upon Luke 7:36-8:1-3

After two dramatic monologues: one from the point of view of the weeping woman and the other from the point of view of Simon the pharisee, a short sermon to try to tie stuff together.
I may, at some point write the 'alternative' version to the sermon which employs lyrics from the song that the sermon is using for a title... :)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In that town, there was a woman who lived a sinful life...

Simon the Pharisee – in fact – everyone around that dining table including the woman herself knew that she was a sinner...
And everyone in that room
Simon,
his dining companions,
and possibly, even the woman herself,
if not physically pointing fingers of judgement, were certainly doing so in their heads:
from them – condemnation;
from her – self-flagellation.
She was tainted:
Polluted,
ritually unclean.
And anyone seen in her company was also tainted –
guilty by association.
At this private meal the local great and the good did not want this less-than-good outsider –
and her utterly extravagant display of public emotion –
did not want her anywhere near them, and she knew it.
And despite it, she burst through the closed door of judgement and exclusion and,
weeping,
found herself centre-stage:
on the floor
wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair,
touching him,
anointing his feet with oil...
tainting him ...
making him...
impure
while everyone else in that room looked on.

Given the way the story is presented, it’s as if a spotlight is shining on these two:
on Jesus and upon the woman ...
Which is why I find the question that Jesus asks Simon immediately
after the story of the forgiven debt
so very telling.
Turning from Simon to the weeping woman Jesus asks:
‘do you see this woman?’
He then continues by giving an account of her hospitality compared to Simon’s lack of hospitality... But wait a minute, let’s go back to that question:
‘do you see this woman?’
Why does Jesus ask this?
Given that she has burst in upon them and made everyone apart from Jesus
both outraged and excruciatingly uncomfortable
how could Simon not see her?
Or, another question:
What is it that Simon does see?
Here is a man who has lived by the laws of his religion:
He has made his life one of discipline
One of rigour
One of ritual purity –
He has tried all his life to live in obedience to God’s commands
To do the right thing.
He is not a bad man...
And yet, in this story, if this were an old cowboy movie,
Simon would definitely be wearing the black stetson:
Here, an apparently good man is portrayed in a very poor light
And it comes down to both what he does and does not see.
For him, the woman is a religious label:
A sinner
He is so busy placing her in his ideological box that all he sees is sin, not her.
She, as a human being, is almost irrelevant:
He is so caught up in the what
That he has lost the who
And by focusing solely upon the issue and not the human being,
Simon, ironically, is himself condemned.
But, in a double irony – if we judge him, do we fall into a similar difficulty I wonder?
After all, he is just human and thinks he’s doing the right thing.

Over the course of roughly 2 000 years of church history a consistent thread can be seen:
The tensions around law and judgement on one hand
and grace and forgiveness on the other
...as well as walking through the ethical maze of what it is to be pure or impure
and, indeed, who gets to decide such things.
And within this all, how this might impact upon our lives as we try to work out just what it means to be followers of Jesus?
While these tensions can be seen today in debates about sexuality for example,
this, to my own mind as an historian at least,
is just another in a long line of matters that have been argued over two millenia
regarding who is, or is not allowed in to the church...
And I suspect when we have finally come to a mind on the matter of sexuality,
that there will be something else or some other group that will crop up and continue these age-old tensions –
it was ever thus.

So, where does this leave us with our weeping woma?
With Simon and the other guests?
And with Jesus?
In our gospel passage, I wonder who it is we might identify with:
the woman?
Simon?
The watching, whispering group in the background?
Or perhaps, Jesus?
And, who we find ourselves identifying with in the story might change on any given day #
depending on our particular situation...
Regardless of where we put ourselves within the story,
I suspect that we’re not called to be a select group of the great and the good,
who try to ring-fence the church to preserve it and keep it pure from taint.
We can’t keep the church pure anyway:
it is made up of us – human and flawed
but also, forgiven, loved, and free
and, importantly, in whom Christ lives –
it’s no longer we that live, but Christ that lives in us –
and as Christ’s body in the world, we are meant to be in the world like God in Jesus was:
God – who loved the world, and the whole of humanity so much –
that he became one of us and got his hands dirty...
We, as his followers, are called to be risk-takers:
To open closed gates and doors –
Whether they be physical spaces
or voices of judgement and exclusion.

After Jesus had stated that the woman’s sins were forgiven, the watching, rather gobsmacked diners asked their own question:
‘Who is this Jesus?'
Simon, earlier, had wondered:
‘If this man were a prophet he would know who she is.’
And in fact he does:
She is a human being beloved by and forgiven by God.’ [1]

And so is Simon,
And the company of diners,
And, so are we.

Let’s pray:
Loving God In Jesus you showed the depth and breadth of your love for all people:
In the knowledge of so great a love and forgiveness
Teach us to love
Amen.


[1/ Alyce M McKenzie - http://www.patheos.com/Progressive-Christian/Piece-Jesus-Mind-Alyce-McKenzie-06-10-2013.html]

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*

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... :)

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.