Available Light

We bought a bed yesterday. The old one was a bit past its use by date, but you know how these things go - it isn't any worse today than it was yesterday so there is always a thousand things ahead of a bed in the budget queue. But what with the defunct springs and alarming potholes and everything, not to mention the rumours of vast ecosystems dwelling within it, it was getting harder to sleep on the probably important artifact of domestic furniture history in our bedroom. So yesterday was the day. Over the last couple of weeks I made a thorough reconnoitre of the bedding market. It had been a few decades since I had taken the remotest interest in it, so needed to refresh my memory. I googled. I wikipediaed. I looked in showrooms. I found that beds were a lot taller and more expensive than last time I looked. Over a few days I managed to look at every bed for sale in Dunedin and noticed something very odd about the bedding market. Although several of  the major brands were proud...

Although ours is, geographically at least, a big diocese, it is traversed by only a few main routes and by now I am pretty familiar with all of them. I began this year driving on roads I know very well, into Central Otago and Southland; but while the scenery and the way into it might have held few surprises, the destinations had plenty. There is change in the air. All over the place, people are realising that what we have been talking about for years in the Anglican Church - the necessity for new ways of doing things - is now a matter of inevitable necessity rather than a conversation filler for church discussion groups. It's been a while since I wrote the above paragraph. In the time since I have: -Helped to choose a new warden for Selwyn College. -Agreed to the ordination to the diaconate of  two people -Ordained Richard Aitken to the diaconate and inducted him into a new ministry in Invercargill -Met with four people newly interested in the possibility of ordination ...

We went to a couple of movies this week. First up was Tintin , about which there is not much to say. It is a wonderful rollicking escapist flick. It is great fun and thankfully doesn't try to be anything other than it is. The animation is superb, and all the little Herge details are there -f'rinstance: as a thwarted petrol head I have always enjoyed the fact that the cars, motorbikes and planes  in the books are real ones, drawn with such draughtsmanlike accuracy that you can tell their make, model and year. And here, parked in the streets of Peter Jackson/Herge 's Paris were wonderful examples of classic Peugeots and Citroens and Rolls Royces, a small example of how perfectly the film captures the look and, more impotantly, "feel" of the books  Then, last night, seeing as we had the 3-D glasses, we went to Hugo , Martin Scorcese's adaptation of the book The Inventions of Hugo . Like Tintin , it is largely computer generated, and it is set i...

First day of the new year. First walk. First photos. We walk up and across the almost familiar track to where the clay was dug for kokowai , the blood-ochre for decorating and protecting important places. The air is sticky warm under the gray sky. We climb the sharp ridge and stand where blood was spilt, not gathered. Here, many have met their deaths: this was once a pa and the battlements ran past where our feet are planted high above the surf. In ancient times justice was meted by throwing people from here; and now a bunch of flowers marks  another, more recent grief. We look for gannets falling from the sky but see none. Instead,  I feel the old sad ones, the fallen, around me. I have no fear of them, nor they of me. We walk back. There are wildflowers. The signs sing.

 Otago beaches. We're not short of 'em. I have driven 40,000 km this year, and sat in far too many aircraft seats. In the end, the thought of yet another flight  followed by a week or two in some rented room or other and days of eating commercially prepared food seemed more of a burden than a relaxation. So, we have been at home and Dunedin has co-operated very generously indeed: this is the warmest, calmest, driest summer that Dunedin has delivered since we arrived thirteen years ago. We have a comfortable house and a lovely garden. There are a score of beaches within a quarter of an hour's drive and a few, in fact, within a quarter of an hour's walk. We have a pile of DVDs, books and classy magazines. A few minutes away there is a vast shallow harbour and a boat shed containing a nice little sunburst . There is a jigsaw puzzle waiting for the rainy day which has, so far, failed to obey the forecaster's instructions and arrive. There is beer in the fridge and...

I must say I am heartily sick of the whole Jesus is the reason for the season routine that I am supposed to be spouting at the moment. Let's get real! In solidarity with my distant pagan ancestors, I  have a decorated tree in the corner of my living room and over the next few days fully intend to indulge in the ancient, pre-Christian practices of feasting, giving gifts and singing carols. What's more, I will be doing the whole darned thing on the Saturnalia,  December 25. We humans had been celebrating in this way for centuries before we Christians wandered into the festivities, looked around, liked what we saw and surreptitiously forged our name on the bottom of the ownership papers. Of course it is all a load of pagan nonsense, but that's the point really. Emmanuel. God with us. God fully present in the human condition, as much in the raucous celebration of the Saturnalia as in the witness of a peaceful sunset. As much in the worried crowds on Christmas Eve combing ...

Last Sunday I preached and celebrated the Eucharist at St. Nicholas' Waverley. As is their custom (they have done this for all the bishops in recent history), they presented me with this: a little sugar bishop who looks remarkably like the old bloke in the mirror. He is, apparently, fashioned around a chocolate rugby ball, so the shape is very authentic indeed. My daughter in law makes beautiful cakes but I am absolutely certain she has never made a bishop. I will ask her how I can preserve it, as for a number of reasons, even though we are entering the sugar ingesting season,  I don't want to eat it. I am continually astonished at the kindness and generosity of the people of the Diocese of Dunedin, and last Sunday in particular, of the Otago parish and of St. Nicholas.