Animal Instinct

So the former French President is poochless. Jacques Chirac has been forced to give away his dog who has now bitten him three times. The aptly named Sumo, a Maltese Terrier, is now enjoying life on a farm after, says Mrs Chirac, suffering from depression on leaving the Elysee Palace. The dog has had problems downsizing, it seems, from the freedom of the large palace gardens to a smaller, more modest apartment. Earlier this year, Mr Chirac was hospitalised after the dog sank his teeth into an unnamed body part. In the latest attack, Mrs Chirac said Sumo was lying quietly at her feet but flew into a violent rage as her husband approached, biting the former French leader in the stomach. "I was very scared because there was blood,' she said. 'It's terrible, the small teeth like that. He was going wild. He wanted to jump up and bite again.'

There were no bites or blood or scrams or violent rages today at St Saviour's for the Blessing of Animals on the Feast of St Francis'...despite the mix of one cat, three dogs, a hamster, two giant snails, two praying mantis and a dove. There are many stories of saints awash with animals: St Cuthbert having his feet dried and warmed by an otter, St Francis preaching to birds and befriending a wolf, St Kevin waiting patiently, palms up, whilst a bird nested in his hand, until the eggs hatched and the youngsters flew the nest. Holiness and intimacy with creation appear to go hand in hand, it seems. Are they just fanciful pieces of folklore, stories spun out of all proportion? Certainly when it comes to appreciating the natural world there is not always room for emotion or sentimentality. But sometimes, perhaps, there is room for intimacy and well, yes, love.

Whilst spending time (some years ago now!) on my ordination retreat, we were regularly attacked by a seagull who swooped down into the college grounds, its shrill threatening cry ringing in our ears, the flap of feather just a few (webbed) feet away. But the seagull could be forgiven. She/he was just protecting the young who had flown the nest. But I felt far from holy. Where was Kevin, Cuthbert and Francis when you needed them? Glorying, perhaps, in the splendour and wonder of creation, appreciating the flap of feather, the beautifully created bird of the sea. We were just watching our heads.

Link to Chirac Story

Spinning Saints and Pointless Pirouettes

I love the story of St Francis, standing at the crossroads, accompanied by his brother friars, and not knowing which way to turn. Francis instructed them to stand on the spot and spin and spin until he shouted, 'Stop!' The direction in which they faced was the direction in which they were to travel to share the gospel. It's a pertinent story for me at the moment because at St Saviour's tomorrow we will celebrate St Francis of Assisi - there was once a church dedicated to the spinning saint in the parish - closed forty years ago next Sunday (and next Sunday we shall remember the church that stood at the lower end of Splott. Not just in a melancholic manner but in order, too, to value the present and, of course, move on). However, the story is personally pertinent for another reason. For some time now I have felt a bit like those confused friars, standing at the crossroads, not knowing which to turn. Spinning, spinning, listening for the 'Stop' of a saint to break their seemingly pointless pirouette.

For more than a year I have been thinking about where to go next. Surely I can't remain as Youth Chaplain indefinitely. Where can I go? What shall I do? Since reducing my Youth Chaplaincy duties to half-time and adopting (or rather being adopted by) the people of St Saviour's Splott for another half-time post I thought, perhaps, I should return to parish ministry full-time and leave someone else to do what they can do for Youth Ministry in the diocese. Things appear to be going well at St Saviour's and there is so much to do and (accompanied by my 'Diocesan' naivety and my commitment to the parish) I thought perhaps it would be possible to stay there. Alas, the process hasn't been as easy or as quick as I thought. Spinning, spinning. Four months after attempting to arrange a meeting with the diocesan bishops I have finally received an answer to my very straightforward suggestion: the answer was quite easy to understand once I spelt it out! 'Stay as you are with the two half-time posts or apply for a job elsewhere.' I have paraphrased, of course. All along I have been dancing a pointless pirouette.

Here I was, after much spinning and standing still, not so much at a crossroads but at a T-junction. I even had a little list suggested by one of the bishops as to why it's really not so bad to leave your home diocese. I felt frustrated, overlooked, undermined and undervalued and, most importantly, as though I was going nowhere (apart from spinning on the spot). However, since the only two options available were to stay as I am or leave altogether, I have now reached my own turning point (as opposed to a 'spinning point' - the 'spinning' has stopped). So I have decided to stay as I am, in a manner of speaking of course. My decision doesn't mean that I'm not moving on - it means making the most of the few options available to me, looking at things differently, and taking things in a different direction. I have heard the 'Stop' of a saint and closed my ears, for now, to the bureaucratic banalities and parsonic perambulations. This is the turning point. There is no more spinning. I just have to cope with the dizziness now.

The Service of Sleep

It's been one of those days that have been quite productive. Some days I can be so engaged in busyness or preoccupation with this thing or that but at the end of the day have nothing obvious to show for it. Today, I think, I can look back and see some of the things that have been accomplished. But even then, when I start thinking about all of that, the loose ends of so many things start dangling before before my eyes. There is always so much unfinished business! There is always so much to do, and maybe a sleepless night of meandering thoughts lies ahead, with loose ends that lie close.

It's been some years now since I have regularly said Compline before going to sleep. There have been times when it has lulled me into sleep or provided a peaceful passing into the pillow. Compline is the completing hour: it puts an end and lays to rest the things that have past, the mistakes and misfortunes, the regrets and reflections. I love that prayer from Compline: 'At this evening hour your Son our Lord Jesus Christ lay in the tomb and so hallowed the grave to be a bed of hope for all who put their trust in you.' The going to sleep and laying to rest at night is an image of that final slipping into sleep and, as my former Incumbent used to say, 'Where there's death, there's hope!'

And so I think of those death bed words of St Francis who is quoted as saying, 'Let us now begin to serve the Lord, for up to now we have done nothing.' It's a rather humble and self deprecating departure (especially when you consider what he did accomplish in his life) but one that places himself totally in the hands of the Lord. It may sound as if he has some loose ends to sort out or, rather, that there is always more to do. But, for me this night it is, I think, about a giving of himself for service even when sleep finally comes. And so as I prepare to climb the stairs the service of sleep awaits! What a wonderful way to regard it, especially in a 24/7 world, where you can shop when you like and work when you want and party til the darkness passes. In fact, half way through writing this I received a phonecall from someone at 11.10pm. - a friend who called for a chat! But now that and everything else is behind me. It's been a busy day, one of those days that have been quite productive, I think, though one thing remains: so let us now begin to serve the Lord, for up to now we have done nothing. Ah yes, it's time for sleep. Goodnight.