We managed to remember him well, I rather think.

It was a funeral that made me weep buckets, and to be honest, there are not many of those. I was not close to Jim in recent years. Indeed, I knew him best about 10 years ago. However, when I encountered him I found him to be funny, gracious, witty, naughty, hospitable and downright good. I think he was also the first out gay priest I knew who lived with a partner. I learned from him possiblities that had been fought for.

Richard Holloway reminded us this afternoon that Jim came from a time when persecution was much less subtle than it is now. Indeed, for much of Jim’s life, living out his life as a gay man could have got him in trouble with the law. And medics tried to torture gay men into being straight too. The shear resiliance of the gay soul facing all that (and the onset of AIDS and all that brought) is the answer to why gay folk keep turning up at church and some of us stay and keep fighting on.

He also reminded us of just how compassionate, angry, holy, funny, raw and downright coarse the love of God actually is. (At least, that’s the way it is if the biblical authors are to be believed). After the sermon there was a Princess Di moment as the applause began at the back in the cheap seats and moved up the church in waves.

There was much to be moved by. Brother Kentigern reading the lament for David and Jonathan, the guitar music from David, Jim’s other half, the sound of the plainsong psalms and +Richard’s fine words. I’d say there is no singing quite like the sound of triumphant hymn singing by a defiant Christian crowd at a good funeral. (And fine trumpet descants took us to a special place too).

And then at the end, a magic moment. +Richard led them out with Jim’s coffin to negotiate the stairs. (No mean feat in itself). As he went, he read the Nunc Dimittis.

Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace : according to thy word.
For mine eyes have seen : thy salvation,
Which thou hast prepared : before the face of all people;
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles : and to be the glory of thy people Israel.

As he went down the stairs and started the Gloria, there was a crackle and the microphone was out of range and his voice was silenced at the midverse.

Hundreds upon hundreds of people took up the words as though committing themselves to take up and celebrate in their own lives all the things in which Jim had been great:

As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be.
World without end.

Amen.

I remember doing a church houseparty on Iona once and one of the exercises that we did with a group that was quite mixed in age (but tending to be older than me) was to recall the most significant things that we remembered from different decades. Interestingly, one of the things that the clergy in the group (there were three of us) kept recalling as significant was going on various marches and demos. Between us, we had been on demos against the Criminal Justice Bill, war (several times), nuclear arms, nuclear power, human rights violations (Palestine, Burma), apartheid and more that I can’t remember. One of the interesting things was that the clergy had been on far more of that kind of thing than the laity, which interested me at the time and interests me now.

I don’t like it at all when the Orange marches go past the end of my street and on into town. However, through somewhat gritted teeth, I guess I think that they have the right to parade. I certainly would not want action taken to curtail those marches, to also affect the Mayday gathering, Trades Union marches, anti-war marches and gay pride. The right to march about calling attention to something seems to me to be rather an important thing.

The best response to the Orange marches is not to ban them but to take faith, poverty, youth and justice issues seriously enough in public life to work through some of the things which give rise to sectarianism.

When I first heard the fifes and drums when I came back to Glasgow I was astonished that it still went on. Those angry drums caused me that day to head off to the local Roman Catholic parish to join them for mass and to embrace a brother priest at the peace.

I might one day want to march through Glasgow protesting about something again. Indeed, it seems scarcely credible that I wouldn’t. It might be that I might want to march through protesting about sectarian marches. But the freedom to do that is a freedom that consequently must be bestowed on those with whom I disagree.

Its a tricky thing to balance the rights of a minority to protest against the right of the majority to enjoy a quiet life. I’ve every sympathy with those who have to police them and who work to keep the peace. (Though its worth noting in passing that the policing of the only march that I’ve have anything to do with organising, a Palm Sunday meander by three churches in North Woodside has always been absurdly on the heavy side).

I say, no ban on the marches going through town. What say you?

Anyway, its Tuesday today so it was back to stare into the eyes of Stylianos once again for root canal treatment. Indeed today had the excitement of teaching him some new vocabulary – to grind one’s teeth. I hope that is more useful to him than “…. er…. make like this,…” complete with hand and finger movements which is what he was using to describe teef-grinding. Forgive me, dear reader, for not enquiring what the Greek for this phrase is. I was a little distracted at the time.

Hopefully this will be the last of the Tuesday root canal treatments. Today’s theological reflection while lying back and gazing into Greek peepers was to wonder whether my teeth disprove evolution? How can evolution have resulted in anyone having such terrible teeth? How come with all these canals in my chops I’ve not had enquiries from trainee gondoliers looking for experience? And why above all other questions did any God make my mouth to be the Venice of the West?

“What is the Diocesan Council?”, I hear you ask, your interest piqued and your excitement rising.

Well, the Diocesan Council consists of elected people from the different Regions of the Diocese of Glasgow and Galloway who meet together several times a year to do the business that needs to be done.

Having said that so confidently, I find myself asking myself what decisions we came to today. The truth is, I’m struggling a bit with that. We certainly talked quite a lot and in almost all cases, I think we deferred making a decision until the next meeting. (I don’t get a vote at these meeting, merely the chance to put my oar in).

I remember that we agreed to help one of the churches in the diocese do some painting and decorating work. So that’s one important decision then.

Maybe we decided something else that I’ve forgotten. I’d kind of like to think so, anyway.

The church in Moffat looked lovely.

Anyway.

They kept coming back to the question, “What would Scotland miss if the Church of Scotland did not exist?”. That’s not a great starting place, but there was no great attempt to answer it either and that’s more the fault of those making the documentary I think rather than those contributing. It would have been good to get some more voices into the mix. Surely there are some Scottish politicians ready to speak up for the C of S? Or ecumenical chums?

The overall feeling of the whole piece was a loss of morale. That’s interesting to compare with the Scottish Episcopal Church. We’ve suffered much the same numerical decline, I think and starting from a low base too. (If the C of S had our numbers, it would be presumed to have virtually disappeared already). However, there is no loss of morale. We’re talking about expansion in this diocese. When we bicker, we are likely to be bickering about how to bring that expansion about. Though bickering is not generally much fun, there are sparks of life within those arguments. We talk about turning things around and growing again. That might be a belligerent denial of reality of course, but the hope still burns strong.

I’m puzzled as to why the C of S folk went on national television and said the things they did and coloured in the picture which the BBC had already begun to paint of apparently inevitable, terminable decline. I guess lament is part of the psyche in Scotland. There was something of a sense of the maudlin songs one sometimes gets at a particular point of a good ceilidh. You know, the point where folk have been drinking but are not drunk and someone starts to sing dreary songs that everyone knows but can’t remember being taught. Sometimes in these parts we like to wallow in it. Was that what we were seeing last night on the telly?

Of course, there’s no good watching something about the 450th anniversary of the Scottish Reformation and presuming that one is merely an observer. My own church has roots in that movement just as much as the Church of Scotland does. Its where we come from and part of who we are. Notwithstanding that, quite a lot of Episcopalians, myself included, would be keen to say that the Scottish Reformation was not entirely a Jolly Good Thing.

And that opinion was missing from the BBC’s programme last night too.

Again.

After some time poking and twanging, Stylianos shakes his head sadly and says, “No, the infection is still there – you come again. One more time”.

I watch Stylianos’s eyebrows for a bit as he puts in another temporary filling

And so I await another session when, hopefully, the infection will be gone and we can close up the tooth for good.

If you like St Mary’s Cathedral, why not nominate it as one of Glasgow’s Landmarks on this page:
http://www.glasgowlandmarks.org.uk/

Closing date for nominations is Wednesday at 5 pm.

What better way to celebrate a Feast than to baptise a couple of folk. And so it was that a very young member of the conregation was baptised alongside someone who has had a few decades to think about it. “Do you baptise adults?” I’m sometimes asked – you bet we do.

Then in the Evening, the first Choral Evensong of this choir term though we had in fact had a special bonus on Saturday with an extra Evensong to commemorate SS Wesley’s 200th anniversary too. They were both wonderful services. The big tubthumpers from SS Wesley contrasting nicely with Sumsion in A and Totus Tuus on Sunday evening.

Then an excellent clergy meeting on Monday morning to plan some extra events and workshops for the period between now and Advent. There will be more details in due course, but expect a bit of prayer and poetry orientated spirituality, a (very) basic introduction to the Bible, something about faith and photography, various getting to know you sessions and plenty of music and liturgy to carry us through to the end of the Church year.

I hope that at least something within this mix will be delivered over the internet rather than (or perhaps as well as) in a face to face format too.

How does all that sound?

• Conrad Wilson in the Herald liked it. (4 stars – no mention of the dog)
• Rowena Smith in the Guardian hated it. (2 stars – no mention of the dog except in comments)
• Conrad Smith also hated it. (2 stars and concern for the dog’s welfare)
• Ruth Innes loved it. (Note comments by the dog’s PR agent)