In their wisdom the powers-that-be down at Grosvenor Crescent have decided that the Scottish Episcopal Church needs car stickers. Most of the cars driving around these parts have some sort of sticker on them.

Give us car stickers or give us death!

When I first moved to Penicuik I figured that there was a very popular Scottish Liberal Democrat named Arnold Clark running for election. Turns out that this is only the car retailer after all and people seem willing to advertise their car salesman without demanding a discount which seems very un-Scottish.

Anyway - we in the SEC now have a bumper sticker and it's more or less what appears at the top of the page. I couldn't find an online copy of the original anywhere so I threw this together as a reasonable facsimile.

It's not a sterling demonstration of Evangelical mojo. No strong language here, that's for sure. Still, it's all true. If you show up we will, in fact, welcome you, your children, your weekly envelope, your helpfulness in helping to paint the church and, in a moment of weakness or stupidity, your willingness to serve as a lay representative to Diocesan Synod.

Is it the best we can do? How about this?

Or even these

last one - I promise

---drumroll---

Back in the saddle!

It's almost palpable.

The silence, I mean. It's almost palpable.

Caireen and I are just back from two weeks' honemoon in Cuba.

Before that we'd taken her 11 year old son and my 22 year old daughter to Eurodisney for a couple of days.

Before that was our wedding.

The days prior to the wedding were spent welcoming family members from the four corners of the world.

Before that was the whole process of moving Caireen and Stewart from their house in West Linton into the Rectory at Penicuik - boxes, skips and endless trips ferrying things back and forth.

Easter was in there too and Holy Week and the tail end of Lent!

I don't think there have been many spare moments in the last six weeks.

Until this morning. Caireen hopped on a bus and went to work. I took Stewart to school and then went to get the holiday photos put on a CD. I came home and then I plugged in the kettle and sat down.

Silence! The first multi-hour lonely silence (and I think I'm not exaggerating) in 6 weeks! There are plenty of calls to make and plans to hatch and meetings to organize for the next few days but a few hours of lonely quiet have been frankly marvellous!

An amazing collection of Canadians, Scots and Israelis. Not all those wearing kilts are Israelis. But all the Israeli men are wearing kilts.


Cuba was fab! It's strange coming back from a failed Communist state to one run by failed Communists!

We spent a few days in Havana in the old part of town hauling our luggage up four flights of stairs to a tremendous balcony with a great view. We'd arranged to rent a not terribly healthy Skoda for seven days, drove down to the Bay of Pigs (Playa Giron) for a couple of days and then pretty well the half the length of the island to a beach north of Holguin. We drove north of Holguin and about three hours along the worst road I've ever seen until we came to a little fishing village. We were trying to make it to a beach recommended by my sister. In this case, however, the engine light was on on the the rented Skoda so we stayed here and collected sea shells.


There are a zillion pics which aren't edited yet. Here's one.

Unplugging for a while!

I'm getting married on Saturday! Family arrives tomorrow from Canada and Israel in three waves. There are a zillion things to do and blogging figures fairly low on the list. Blogging at this juncture would probably be grounds for divorce. We are to be married on Saturday at 2 pm here in Penicuik.

Off to Euro-Disney Sunday with the two children for a two-day trip and thence to Cuba later in the week with the Missus for a couple of weeks. Back in the saddle mid-May. Will post a few holiday pics, maybe a wedding pic or two but little from me until then.

Hasta la proxima vez!

Maybe it's some sort of doggie reincarnation

I find the resemblance amazing between my wife-to-be's collie cross and Laika the stray dog the Soviets shot into space on a one-way mission in 1957. Even down to the chewed right ear. This will remain a private reflection. Patch is finding the transition to life at the Rectory a little unsettling as it is.

We all need heroes

Although perhaps not the black-rubber-suited type. Our heroes could well be folks who do some of the things that we do, but who do them better and have done so consistently for a very long time. The old Archdeacon who I served under as a theological student back in Montreal for about five years was one such hero. I hear his voice frequently and believe that, were he still alive, he would again be looking down his long red nose and shaking his head at me about some of the same issues we struggled with twenty-some-odd years ago.

I've had the opportunity to do a few Thought(s) for the Day on Radio Scotland over the last several months. I'm certainly not used to having a producer - especially one who lets me know when she thinks what I'm proposing to say doesn't quite pass muster because it's too 'newsy' or 'not newsy enough', not in line with the BBC 'style' or simply unclear and a bit dribbling. Members of my congregation could probably be located who'd testify that I might profit from a producer back home in the congregation. Perhaps they're secretly hoping that my impending marriage will produce such a result in the long term.

Thought for the Day on Radio Scotland makes use of a two minute format. These two minute talks are not prepared far in advance - they're worked out the day before, based on what's been on the front page of the Scotsman (Edinburgh) or the Herald (Glasgow) or elsewhere. You get a phone call from the studio in Glasgow just before noon. You chat a bit. You hammer something off and email it along. Then after 20 minutes there's another phone call and a few more emails back and forth - so far generally about four drafts seems to be the average. It takes the better part of an afternoon of my time to come up with something serviceable every four or five weeks.

What is being sought is a faith perspective on the daily news- what the news means when spoken about by somebody with a religious vocation.

I will admit to a certain initial discomfort with the idea of providing a 'faith perspective'. I don't provide just 'any' faith perspective. It seemed a pretty generalizing thing - like somebody pulling a coat off a hook and saying 'wear this - it should fit you' - where the 'you' in the sentence could be an Episcopalian, a Roman Catholic, a Muslim, a Jew or a Sikh. I am not so post-evangelical as to think that one can be all things to all people. I wondered whether what was being asked for was the sort of gentle vicar-spew you sometimes hear in the media.

What clinched it for me was the parallel I drew in my mind between Thought for the Day and work I'd done in hospitals, schools, port chaplaincies or homeless shelters. It was some of the best and most interesting work I ever did. It was done, though, by hospital standards or under the watchful eye of a head teacher, in partnership with shipping agents or social agencies. A fair number of us are used to working by our own rules and on our own turf within the confines of our congregation. Even if that turf shrinks to a small patch of ground and a handful of souls we feel no tremendous discomfort. Life carries on after a fashion and above all we can preach the Word in the way we feel called to preach it. We don't often get challenged and we don't always make very good guests in somebody else's pulpit. We don't always stand up to the scrutiny of the marketplace.

A radio station is somebody else's turf - it's a civic platform. You're being heard in a car by a commuter. It's his car. That's his turf. He has a button in front of him that can turn you off. It's not so much that one has an obligation to 'tone things down' or to be 'winsome' instead of 'direct' but that one has been given a tremendous 'opportunity' - one which is worth the effort of changing one's style and approach.

Once treated as opportunity and not as obligation - the fun really begins.

Lots of people listen to Thought for the Day on Radio Scotland. It's a 'good gig'. Even more listen to Thought for the Day on Radio 4, however. It's broadcast throughout Britain. They're generally made up of three-minute meditations. That extra minute allows for quite a bit. Among the regular contributers to Radio 4's Thought for the Day is one who I consider a bit of a hero. Her name is Angela Tilby and she's the Vicar of St Bene't's Church in Cambridge. She has managed to combine the gentleness of a guest with some really quite chewy and provocative talks. Her style is one worth keeping in the back of my head.

A list of her Thought(s) for the Day can be found HERE. You can read them or listen to them.

On my way to Mass at West Linton this morning. The view of the town taken from the Moor Road. The lambs are all pretty well out now - most have numbers painted in red dye on their sides. I told one visitor last year that the numbers represented the optimal oven temperature for lamb done medium rare.

There is no West Linton newspaper. There's the Peebleshire - a regional paper - which will give you the local bumpff a week or so late. You'll find a News Agent in the village, however, and it's in the shop itself where you will hear everything: Who's divorcing whom, who has died, who has had twins. Who's been shagging about? Probably not. You might hear that up at the Gordon Arms if you eavesdropped on the sotto voce conversation going on beside you.

Most of the phone calls I get announcing that somebody has died or fallen sick begin with the words 'I was in the News Agent this morning and......'

My fiancee lives in West Linton. We've engaged a 'man with a van' for Friday afternoon to begin the slow process of moving her worldly belongings and those of her son up to the Rectory in Penicuik. Penicuik is not a village - it's a town - which has it's up sides and it's down sides.

In West Linton you don't need to lock your doors or your cars. If you do lock your door it's because the dog knows how to push down the handle. If you forget to lock the door and the dog bolts during the day the neighbour will send her children over to bring the dog home, the children already know where you keep the key and they'll fish it out from under the mat, put the dog in the house, lock up and replace the key. You'll find out about all of this a week later when somebody mentions it to somebody else in the News Agent.

Frogspawn in copious quantities!

Oh, sorry - you were having lunch....

Notwithstanding the weather, the Scottish variety of the European Common Frog have managed to exhibit all the appropriate spring-like behaviour. Hamish and Morag the Scottish frogs have been at it and there are now huge gollops of frogspawn in every available puddle and pond. These little black dots will all be swimming around as tadpoles in a few weeks.

Caireen was joking with me a few months back about how it could snow on our wedding day. At the time it seemed an unreasonable concern.

Well sir, this is Penicuik right now - two weeks to the day before our wedding.

It will warm up. It will warm up!

Awake, O Sleeper!

A picture taken in the church yard at St Mungo's Penicuik. The words below are from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday (ca. fourth century).

Something strange is happening. There is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the king is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh, and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.

He has gone to search for our first parents, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives, Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. [...]

I am your God, who for your sake, have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants, I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. [...]

For your sake I, your God, became your son. I, the Lord, took the form of a slave. I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.

See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back, see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.

I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you. Rise. Let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. [...]

The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers, swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.

Quite a decent day, really!

Service in West Linton this morning and only a few things to do in the office afterwards. I meandered home to Penicuik on the Moor Road and took this shot of the Pentland Hills in the distance. Marriage prep tonight with a couple from St James.

My own marriage prep this weekend! The shoe will be on the other foot!


After having bitterly complained about the very existence of my wife-to-be's terrier/collie/rat admixture I must grudgingly admit that he's coming along. He doesn't chase chickens for a start. Since he's been spending more time with Clio he's decided that he enjoys the company and will try being (relatively) good for a change.

Why we have the internet

So that a couple of Vietnamese lads with baggy T-shirts and badly wanting a comb can give a boost to an upcoming Sunday sermon on the Road to Emmaus.

Diem Xua (Old Charm) by Trinh Cong Son

I remember this cover of Time magazine from the summer of 1971 and I remember the article! As I read the opening lines this morning I found myself completing the sentences. I was thirteen years old at the time. I can remember the hammock I was lying on at my grandfather's cottage in Ontario and being woken at night by loons on the lake - feeling strangely troubled - and turning the light on to re-read the article.

That October there were two 'Jesus people' staying at the Catholic Charities Hostel for Men on the corner of Robson and Cambie in Vancouver where I stayed after absconding from home for a week or ten days. I trailed along with them to a prayer meeting at some sort of 'Upper Room' in Vancouver. These two had decided to 'live light' like the 70 or like the deacons in the Acts of the Apostles. It was a strange time - the beginning of rather a lot of things for me.

In the words of Dr Shadrach Meshach Lockridge
Thanks to Scott Gunn for this

Full Circle

The last decent camera I had was given to me by my mother in about 1972 (or so). I can't remember whether there was a connection between how badly I was doing in Junior High School and the gift of an only-slightly-used Pentax SP1000. Perhaps it was hoped that I'd develop an interest in something other than cutting classes. The camera served me well during my three years at Hippie Alternative School in the Yukon Territory. Chums with much posher cameras saw their shutters freezing up at extreme low temperature. Anyway - light meter batteries for the aforementioned Pentax now need to be ordered from specialists. The mirror flips up and stays up for some reason with slower shutter speeds and, besides, it's not digital.

Mrs Rabbit and I will be heading off to Cuba for a honeymoon in just a few weeks and so it seemed a good idea to browse around Ebay and see what was available in the only-slightly-used Pentax range and so here it is. The instruction manual is 220 pages long. I've pushed every button - 50% of the time I've pushed the wrong button. I've recorded some great photos in the wrong format. Technology is not my strong suit.

I feel a bit like the Peter Sellers character in the video below.

Quick, the sun's out!

A nice day in Penicuik. We haven't had overly many of these and one takes advantage of the very moment the sun is out because it won't be out in an hour or so.

The leaves haven't even emerged yet. The leaves are all out down south. Edinburgh even has leaves and blossoms. Penicuik is just a little higher up. We've had what seems like a very long and dreary winter. I get the feeling that there's a magnificent Spring just waiting to jump out at us.

Fr Nick Knisely's long quote from an essay by Anne Hunt made me think: I've never actually preached a sermon on Christ's descent into Hell (or "descent among the dead" as the cleaned up version would have it) in all the years of my ministry. I must rectify that before Pentecost.

Amongst all the media caricatures of clergy which are a constant source of irritation and resentment there are a few which are an awful lot of fun. Fr Dougall and Fr Ted get lost in the lingerie section. Fr Jack ends up in the toy department.

No question that we remember things better when we sing them

Amazing coincidences

On Monday as we were driving back from our long walk in the country the step-dog passed wind rather nastily in the back of the car. The step-son-to-be could not let this go without comment accompanied by waving arms and all the requisite facial expressions. I took the opportunity to tell him the story from the 1001 Nights called How Abu Hasan Brake Wind. Wanting to be a good step-father and knowing, as I do, the degree to which small boys thrive on stories which make references to farting I supposed it would be a good bonding exercise.

It was an elderly clergyman in the Diocese of Montreal doing a locum at the church where I was the honourary assistant who told me the story perhaps six or seven years ago as we were sitting around the office waiting for the faithful to gather for Mass. I haven't thought of the story since. Until Monday I'd never found myself in the situation of needing such a story.

So after having told the story at about 3:30 in the afternoon on Monday and after having delivered my fiancee and her son back to their house in West Linton I poured myself a cup of coffee and listened to the downloaded episode (March 22) of News from Lake Wobegon which ended up being an updated version of How Abu Hasan Brake Wind.

Strange, non?

Mr Happy Goes to Church

From our friends at ASBO Jesus