never satisfied

In the busyness of everyday I find myself composing mental blog notes that never progress to keyboard or screen. So why is my mind so blank as sit in front of the computer this cool winter evening? Seeking to develop reflective practitioners, I need to exercise those capacities within myself. So of what am I thinking?

One recurrent thought echoes Mick Jagger: I can't get no satisfaction.

It troubles me that I feel so negative attending worship week after week. There seems no depth in the music. The theology is often appalling (to me). Or lacking. In an unguarded moment I once said to the President of our denomination that a thing I find difficult is so often having to switch my brain off as I walk through the doors of the church building. Which was unfair. But heartfelt. There seems an unholy intimacy in the "Jesus and me/ I am a friend of God/ Happy Clappy" atmosphere that distresses me, but that others find life-enhancing.

Yet at the funeral last week, which was an excellent acknowledgment of a life lived well, I did note the absence of any prayers directed to God and the palpable sense of carefully keeping everything rational. "She lives on in our memory of her" is totally true, and yet I yearned to hear the word 'resurrection'. There was an arm-length-ness about the conduct of worship that also did not satisfy.

One of our children said to me the other day "You really miss Cafe@Church don't you Mum?" This was a monthly event in a past hometown which did seem to find a third way that was neither self-consciously 'liberal' nor 'sentimentally evangelical'. This memory is partly why I was so energised by Sally's no hymns plan for this past Sunday. I do miss the creativity that was somehow more readily nurtured in a tiny island country than in a vast island continent.

Jane reflected a few days ago on interesting challenges facing the newly formed World Communion of Reformed Churches which "will have to work hard to try to hold together confessional and faith concerns with the deep desire for social justice. Many of the churches in the Global South do this naturally - it's part of being a Christian, as is praying and bearing witness. Somehow in parts of Global North some churches seem to have decided to say that they are either liberal or traditional and assume that those on the other side either don't pray or read the Bible or don't serve the world or speak out prophetically on social issues. Perhaps one day we will understand that the body of Christ is bigger, more diverse, more open and more challenging than any of us have dared to believe. A place of security from which we can find the courage to overcome the temptations of safety."

A couple of weeks ago we ran a session on leadership for first year students. In which we acknowledged leaders as people who ask "What can I do to change things" rather than whinging about what they do not like. At the recent Queensland Synod meeting the President's second Bible Study focused on Jesus' sayings that we often call the beatitudes (and demonstrated that careful theological scholarship is alive and well in our denomination). I was especially struck by his interpretation of 'meekness' which was, from memory, about not needing to puff oneself up but instead to have the internal strength to do what is right regardless of the reaction of others. Way back (I just discovered it was in March! I have thought about it and talked about it a lot since) Jane posted about the French translation of 'blessed' which is en marche with "the meaning of get up, get going, let's go. If someone is "en marche" they would be setting out on a path, walking ... if something is en marche, it is switched on, working, going." For this whinger then there is a challenge: demonstrate the blessedness of internal integrity. And change that theme song:

How can we get satisfaction?

Haere haere haere kuia ma ...

My first experience of Tiger Air today, flying to and from Melbourne to pay respects and bid a final farewell to 'Aunt Jean'. My husband's only remaining aunt, she has become increasingly frail over recent months and died on Sunday after 97 very full years of life. As he is in Grand Rapids, I really wanted to represent the 'wider family'. And so pleased I went, as I was the only relative apart from the immediate family. Even if I am a relative-in-law. So for the first time, and as the first in my own immediate family, I have met my cousin-in-law and his wife, children and grandchildren. Strangely and yet too frequently it is a death that facilitates this happening. Now that I can no longer exchange seasonal greetings with 'Jean', I look to make new contacts and ensure that future generations know the heritage they share.

It makes me think of the important role of networker or family connector that is present in several branches of my family.

• When my grandfather left England to settle in NZ in the first part of the 20th century, his cousin Olive made sure that successive generations knew of the antipodean family
  
• My grandmother and father were wonderful recounters of family lore that has enriched my understanding of identity
• My mother has handed down 'heirlooms' with details of the history of each. Today I wear a brooch that first belonged to my great-grandmother. And in the china cabinet is the vase given to my grandmother by my grandfather on their first anniversary

The Friday Five this week is about forgetfulness and lateness. In my present state of contented connectedness it is easier to reflect on timeliness. A time for every purpose under heaven .... I respect the way in which many traditional cultures are able to attend to the need of the moment. Meetings get cancelled if there is a death in the community. People arrive neither punctually nor late, but when all that is needed has been done.

This has been a very timely day. The right time to open up new relationships. The right time to try a new airline and enjoy discount fares. A very measured pace (partly due to the early hour of the cheap fare). A call from work about a serious student matter came just as the afternoon tea was finishing. And returning home at just the right time to collect youngest household member from music practice. Taps seems very appropriate:

Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the skies
All is well, safely rest;
God is nigh.

And to Aunt Jean - Haere ra kuia ma, haere ki toku kainga tapu, ake ake ake, amine
Go beloved child of Alice and Matthew, go repected matriarch of our generations, go to your true home forever, Amen.

It hurts

Why am I surprised to find that it hurts to put a hand in the fire? I have found a new/additional bottom line. When a colleague is treated unjustly. Threatened with disciplinary action for speaking out about quality and safety concerns. And 'meek and mild' M challenged the attack on integrity. Hurt for a couple of days. Found little had changed. Left feeling a bit winded.

I remember reading a poem once along the lines of 'Why do I feel so bad when I know I have acted rightly?' It's interesting, I think, that in movies and fiction the 'hero/ine' is often squeaky clean and their goodness shines forth in a blaze of righteous confidence. Not often is the 'goodie' perplexed and dismayed and uncertain of how to respond.

But hand in the fire, kia kaha, there is no other way to be