Keeping Active

Not so much physically active, but definitely active on emails and services and sermons and…

So, this chilly morning (0° when I ran) I put in my two miles with a new personal best time, one that pulls my rolling average back down to 20:03. I can’t tell you how I made the difference, but I have noticed recently that my first two minutes of running don’t get me as far as I’d wish, so I concentrated on getting off to a quick start. The rest seems to have just continued as usual. Then coffee, fruit, more coffee, toast, showered and dressed, Morning Prayer, groceries, then back home to work on tomorrow’s funeral homily/eulogy. Around 4:00 I’ll start getting ready to go in to Oriel for the annual Theology Dinner.

Less Frenetic

The only item on my timetable for today is a pastoral visit to a retired priest in our parish (which ordinarily takes upwards of two hours, sometimes more, since he abounds in story-telling). Apart from that I’m swatting emails when they fly too close to me, and working on a sermon for Wednesday’s funeral.

I ran this morning, not a bad time, but it dislodged my first exceptional run from the rolling average, so the average crept upward more than this particular run will have warranted (now I’m at 20:17, with an overall average since I started timing myself at 20:48). I’m a little nettled that my competitive streak is obtruding on the experience; that’s why I stopped counting in the first place, after all. If it turns out that I can’t time myself without being driven by the clock, I’ll just stop again, or perhaps time only one day a week, or something. Coffee and fruit, shower and dress, Morning Prayer, another cup of coffee but at R&R with Margaret, then home to prepare for home communion.

Fun Day

Two miles at a mid pace, rolling average creeping up to 20:09; coffee and fruit, say Morning raayer, then after a while, coffee and toast; shower, dress, fine-tune sermon (in the ‘Continued’ section), then to church for Mass and sermon. I’ll preside at Evensong tonight. Continue reading “Fun Day”

Post Valentine Post

Let’s see…. Yesterday morning I took an easy, non-timed run. As it turned out, I walked for significant portions of the two miles; my ankles and knees appreciated the gentler treatment. I didn’t even start the clock; I knew from the start that this would be a semi-rest day. Then coffee and fruit, shower and Morning Prayer, home for coffee and toast and general email catch-up, then began work on my sermon for Sunday (heaven permit that it ends up a fruitful start and I can wrap it up this morning), then Margaret unveiled her spectacular Valentine gift to me, a pen cabinet to hold a hundred of my fountain pens (woot!), lunch, then off to Oxford to shop for Margaret’s Valentine gift*, and from there to the New Testament Seminar for a paper being given by my Oriel colleague Hindy Najman (an exciting paper on tabnith/tupos (some day I have to alter the CSS for this blog to allow Greek and Hebrew type) in the Hebrew Bible and the Letter to the Hebrews, then at the end of the day back to have a Valentine’s dinner at Dorindo’s.

This morning, two miles at what felt like a strong pace (but which turned out to be less than many recent days, deflecting my rolling average to 20:06). A cup of coffee, let the dogs out, I’ll say Morning Prayer in a minute or two, then clean up, make a hot breakfast, and turn to tomorrow’s sermon.


* I had intended for a long time to buy a large quantity of the dark chocolate black tea that she relishes, from Whittard’s. Whittard’s, though, seems to have a distinctive approach to marketing: they regularly, predictably allow their stock of this particular tea to run out, and then profess to be unable to stock it for weeks — all the while they suggest ordering it from the Whittard’s website.
Now, I am no retail shopkeeper. Still, with my only vague apprehension of the elements of High Street retail merchandising, it seems to me that if there’s enough demand for a product that you regularly run out of it… you might order a larger stock, or more regular deliveries, even both. We will order from the main website, with a sigh.
Empty-handed, I stopped at Montezuma’s for choclate, and at Scriptum for a notebook. Happy Valentine’s Day, Margaret, and all who celebrate!

Thursday Morning of Fourth

A second sub-20 two miles this week, as once again I surprised myself and lowered the rolling average to 20:02. At this rate, I may attain a five-day average below twenty minutes as early as tomorrow. I didn’t expect my pace to break twenty minutes till warmer weather.

Lunch and tutorial today, but nothing else timetabled; I will be pondering Sunday’s sermon, perhaps reading or working on one or another project.

More Full

I was tempted to take this morning off timed running, since I knew I was bound to fall back from the inexplicably fast pace of yesterday; but I went ahead and had a good, normal run (bringing my rolling average to 20:14). Coffee, shower, Morning Prayer, quick errands, home for hot breakfast, then back to church for a staff meeting and a pastoral care committee meeting. By the time I get home I should have marking to do, plus communication with the four first-years I’ll be working with for the second half of term.

(Later: Yup, 3:45. Considering I’m only half time, that’s a very full day.)

Full Tuesday

Startlingly good run this morning — when I saw the time, my first thought was that I must have made a timing mistake somehow. My rolling average drops to 20:32. Coffee, fruit, a bit of marking, shower, Morning Prayer, tutorial, lunch, funeral, then home to tend the ladies while Margaret goes to London to see Windborne (friends of Josiah’s from undergraduate days; she had lunch with them in Oxford last week).

The Wages of Syn(od)

Since it’s sure to be the topique du jour at Synod, I wanted my own position on Welby, Cottrell, Hartley, safeguarding, and rumour to be a matter of public record (even though nobody can be at all interested).

First, it seems entirely possible to me that, despite being immersed in Iwerne camp culture and exercising official roles therein, Justin Welby may not have known about John Smyth’s vicious habit. Possible, though not likely — but he attests that he didn’t, so I’ll take him at his word. It’s also possible that he was entirely unaware that such media venues as Private Eye had followed and reported the sad, cruel history of this story for many years. I myself am often left out of the loop for the goss, for reasons unclear to me (it just can’t be any personal sanctity or innocence; my guess is that it’s somehow bound up with my autism in a way that makes me seem like the sort of person Not To Tell). So I know from experience that sizzling sub rosa stories may simply not get to people whom one would think inescapably likely to have heard. I don’t hold Justin Welby responsible for what he wasn’t told or didn’t know. (This is no doubt a great comfort to him.)

The most recent reporting on the police angle suggests that they handled the case according to their own protocols. Whatever one thinks of those protocols, it appears there wasn’t a lapse on that front.

Relative to the case for Archbishop Welby’s resignation under pressure, I do think there’s a basis. Look at it this way (as I must): if in my ecclesiastical posts I had even the shadow of a hint that young people or vulnerable adults were being abused — or anyone being tormented in the way that Smyth tormented the men in his sphere — and I didn’t alert independent authorities according to stated regulations, and then follow through to make sure something was being done, I would have been sacked. I know this; it’s not some vague estimate. Granted that the [then] Archbishop of Canterbury had at some point been informed about Smyth’s activities, and granted his own very close identification with Iwerne and other Smyth-adjacent circles in the CoE, I would have expected that (if he had a line manager to make the decision) he would have been subjected to consequences comparable to those I as a theological educator-priest would have faced. Being an archbishop should provide no insulation from the consequences of actions (or inactions).

As to Archbishop Cottrell, of whom I’ve heard many positive things, roughly the same criterion applies. If I knew that somebody had been acquitted on a technicality (and I do not dispute the importance of technicalities), but had been excluded from schools on the basis of a past record of conduct, I would jolly well not endorse that person or nominate him for ecclesiastical privileges and honours; indeed, I would endeavour, within the bounds of canon law, to make said person as unwelcome as I could. And I would not have praised them publicly. And I would have mad esure that a paper trail demonstrating the very highest standards of safeguarding vigilance accompanied every future such situation I handled thereafter, ensuring that I had fulfilled the highest standards of safeguarding incumbent on me, such as that which resulted in the appointment of the Bishop of Liverpool.

Bishop Helen-Ann Hartley was a student of mine at Princeton Theological Seminary. I have known her for [mumbles] years, and have never had reason to doubt her integrity. Andrew Brown’s vile aspersion that she spoke out with a view to her own advancement is so preposterous — even were Bp Helen-Ann an ambitious church climber — that I seriously cannot imagine what Brown was thinking. Perhaps he has never heard about the abuse women, particularly women clergy, encounter when they raise their heads above the parapet. Perhaps he thought Bp Helen-Ann so stupid that she anticipated cheers of adulation from the College of Bishops. Whatever the case, I can scarcely imagine that any other diocese in England would accept her as bishop, however enthusiastically she has been received in Newcastle, and however thankfully survivors of abuse have heard her speak out on their behalf.

To sum up an overlong post: Justin Welby knew more than his inaction warranted. Stephen Cottrell has known more than his inaction warranted. Helen-Ann Hartley has simply been saying sensible things about horrible situations. Safeguarding requires more than adhering to rules and letting matters drop.

Not Enough of Nothing

Shhh — there’s nothing on my diary for today. Plenty on my to-do list; that goes without saying. But I have the latitude to execute such of those errands as best fits my energies and location.

I didn’t run this morning; it’s cold and rainy, and prudence suggests to me that I not ask more of my knees and ankles and respiratory health than good ordinary weather affords. I will be moving around town today, though. Coffee and fruit this morning, then cleaning up, Morning Prayer, a trip to town for coffee at R&R, and perhaps a trip to Waitrose for various items (Margaret orders wonky fruit and veg from Oddbox, a delivery service, so our shoppiung follows from what we receive from them). Tasks, communications, and keeping an ear to the ground for rumblings from Synod.

Settling Into the Same

1°, two miles, rolling average of 20:43, coffee and fruit, Morning Prayer (at home), shower, coffee and toast, off to Mass at St Helen’s, home for lunch, back to St Helen’s for a baptism, then home to recharge. Since the Steelers aren’t playing in the American football championship, I leave it to the partisans of Philadelphia and Kansas City to arrange matters themselves.

Hermeneutics Won’t Go Away

One reason I get vexed about [biblical] hermeneutics involves the almost universal reflex to treat the topic as ‘How to interpret this kind of text’ without even considering what happens when we interpret texts in the first place — as though we already know that, it’s unproblematic. But taking that for granted generates the whole problem. If people would bother understanding ‘hermeneutics’ in the first place, then we could get some headway on why people interpret this or that text as they do.

Anyway, that’s why I’m determined to write what I assume will be my last book before I agree to any other writing projects. Pinky promise.

Cold Rain Pain

It’s cold, it’s wet, and my knee hurts. No run this morning. (I’m considering taking one or two non-timed runs a week, to keep the habit alive while not obliging me to push hard every single morning.)

Nothing in my diary this Saturday. I may actually read from a book, or read some Greek.