When thinking of the American (U.S.) Thanksgiving holiday, certain iconic images come to mind: Of families gathered around dinner tables laden with roast turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie; parades with marching bands and giant helium balloons; (American) football matches on television; and Pilgrims in tall black hats sitting down to the first Thanksgiving feast. As important and real as these images may be, I think filmmaker John Hughes captured something of the spirit of Thanksgiving in a tug-the-heartstrings film he made in the 1980s called Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. If you’ve seen that film, you’ll remember that the plot centers on a marketing executive, played by Steve Martin, who is trying to get from New York to Chicago in order to have Thanksgiving with his family. He runs into all kinds of obstacles during the busiest travel week of the year – from snowstorms and cancelled plane flights to broken down trains, burned out rental cars, and an uncomfortable ride in the back of a long haul lorry. His constant, and unwanted, companion along the way is a large, socially clumsy, loquacious shower curtain ring salesman played by John Candy (a Canadian!). Martin’s character spends the bulk of the movie trying both to get home and to get rid of Candy’s salesman. But when Martin finally does get home for Thanksgiving, a light bulb goes off; he realizes that his erstwhile, bothersome travel companion has no home to go to, and so he invites him into his own. The movie ends with Martin’s character introducing Candy to his wife, while a Thanksgiving feast awaits them in an adjoining room.

For all its Hollywood trappings, I think director Hughes captured something important about Thanksgiving in his film. It is a time of family celebration, of eating wonderful food and enjoying activities together, but also of sharing and of welcoming others. That is the often overlooked story behind the first Thanksgiving (or one of the first – there is some debate). That took place in the village of Plymouth, Massachusetts in November 1621, when a few score English settlers, all who were left of a larger group that had sailed from England the year before, sat down to celebrate a successful harvest – a necessity for their own survival. They invited their indigenous neighbors, of the Massasoit tribe, to join them for three days of feasting and thanksgiving. Sometimes forgotten is the fact that the colonists’ own survival had depended largely upon these neighbors, who taught the starving colonists how to cultivate corn, catch fish, and locate edible plants. Their feast was a celebration and a thanksgiving, both to God and to the neighbors who had helped them survive. If their aim was to plant a ‘shining city on a hill’, as Puritan leader John Winthrop was to say a few years later, the native peoples had helped them do it. I am still struck, as I was as a child, when I see a painting imagining that first Thanksgiving: The Puritans in their black garb, tall hats, and brass buckle shoes sitting beside indigenous people with their animal skins, colorful jewelry, and hair feathers. It’s a strange and almost unimaginable combination, and that’s the wonder of it.

The English colonists were, of course, practicing an ancient tradition of giving thanks for God’s provision, which often included periods of fasting. They were to do it again two years later, and after that, many of the original colonies held annual days of thanksgiving, sometimes following upon periods of fasting. In 1789, the first U.S. President, George Washington, called upon the new nation to hold a day of thanksgiving for the successful end of the war against (You Know Who) and the ratification of the U.S. Constitution. Later presidents followed in similar suit. But it was not until 1863 that Thanksgiving became an official national holiday. Then, in the middle of the American Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln issued a declaration calling for a “day of Thanksgiving and Praise” upon which Americans could thank God for the bounty they received; “commend to his tender care” widows, orphans, and others who suffered losses in the war; and implore the Almighty to “heal the wounds of the nation.” The holiday was fixed on the fourth Thursday in November, which it remains today.

Although a lot of the original meaning, and meanings, of Thanksgiving have become clouded – popular references to ‘Turkey Day’ and presidents pardoning select members of the species, for example – the holiday is still seen as a time to reach out to others. Volunteer activities are important, and many churches and social service organizations hold food drives, deliver meals to the homebound, and host Thanksgiving dinners for the homeless and those with little means. While the needs for food and companionship certainly extend beyond the holiday itself, Thanksgiving provides some Americans with a first experience of helping others in need and (probably contrary to marketers’ intentions) highlights the discrepancies between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’. Among my favorite Thanksgiving memories is a time that I took my (understandably reluctant) young children to deliver meals to some homebound persons living in social housing. Some of them identified as Christian, at least one man was Jewish, and others may have had no religious affiliation at all. That didn’t matter. But the look on their faces when they saw my children at their door is one I, and I hope they, will never forget. To my mind, Thanksgiving at its best is a shadow of that inclusive heavenly banquet where all are fed at God’s table.

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But back to Hollywood and popular conceptions of the holiday. The 1980s must have been a big decade for films about Thanksgiving, because Woody Allen also featured the holiday in one of his best movies from that period, Hannah and Her Sisters. You may remember the storylines which connect various characters in the film to Hannah (Mia Farrow), the center of a dysfunctional extended family that relies on her steady presence. In a narrative framed by three successive Thanksgiving gatherings in Hannah’s New York apartment, we follow the characters as they deal with existential crises including adultery, career disappointment, family divisions, and the meaning of life itself. The shared Thanksgiving meal marks the passage of time and reminds the characters (and the viewer) that, for all their failings – and they are significant – these people are a community. The annual gathering reinforces that fact and makes it real, without dismissing the issues that threaten their common identity.

So, this Thursday, 26 November, travelers across the United States will be rushing home by any means possible to sit down with their families at tables laden with turkey, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie; American-style football matches will be broadcast non-stop on television to millions of viewers; bands will march and play, tugging huge balloons in their wake; bleary-eyed shop workers will be preparing for the massive Black Friday rush; and the president will pardon another lucky member of the turkey race. And many people – among them, many people of faith – will be giving thanks for what they have received and sharing it with others. Whether or not the attendees of that first Thanksgiving in Massachusetts ate turkey, cranberry sauce, or pumpkin pie (and it is doubtful that they did), they left us an important image of welcome, community, and sharing. Whatever else Americans remember on this day, we should be thankful for that.

In the June 1926 edition of the St Mary’s Magazine we may read a memoir written by a member of the then congregation, the 82-year-old John Spens, recalling the worship and liturgy of “Old St Mary’s”, the Renfield Street building which housed the congregation between 1825 and the opening of the current church in 1871. He ends his recollections with the caveat

“…with regard to the services and character of the buildings of the first St Mary’s it must be remembered that during the period of its existence there were…very different standards in our Church from those now in vogue.”

Were Mr Spens to attend one of the services today, what might strike him as familiar, if anything, and what would surprise and perhaps shock him? He would no doubt have arrived at 11 a.m. expecting the service of Matins, to be followed at 12.30 by Holy Communion. He might, as a distinguished lawyer and man of great rectitude have arrived promptly, but there is much evidence that the time-keeping of St Mary’s congregation was as wayward then as now. Having settled into a seat, although almost certainly not the pew which he had rented for the exclusive use of himself and his family, he might have mused on the relatively small congregation, as in his day St Mary’s could seat nearly 1,000 people and was usually filled to capacity. Visitors, or “strangers” as they were often described, were asked to wait until the service had started, and then shown to any unoccupied seats. Upon Mr Spens’ death in 1928 his customary position was marked by the elegant, Art Nouveau memorial still to be seen on the pillar next to which he sat for nearly sixty years.

Mr Spens might be less shocked by the current text of the Eucharist than we might expect, as a century ago St Mary’s was in the lead in accepting, indeed in promoting the many changes brought about by the introduction in 1912 of the Scottish Liturgy. The congregation and vestry – Mr Spens served as a vestryman for 54 years – expressed a desire for its use within a week of its authorisation by the Province to replace the use of the 1662 English Liturgy. While a few members of the congregation found the theological implications of the revised service to be unacceptably close to the espousal of Transubstantiation and left to find refuge in St Silas’, the majority continued to appreciate the richness of the services under the leadership of the then Provost, Frederic Llewellyn Deane.

Mr Deane, an energetic young man of formidable charm and well-developed people-skills, had during his tenure (1904-1917) introduced the use of liturgical colours, Eucharistic vestments, a sanctuary lamp and established the use of candles on the High Altar. These latter were initially only placed there for the 8.30 a.m. service, and removed before the later celebration, but gradually became generally accepted. Most of these innovations were explained in the monthly magazine, which will surely have defused much dissent. The 20th century change of focus from the High altar to a Nave Altar in the crossing, would have seemed outlandish to Mr Spens, but Mr Deane might have rejoiced in this as being in line with the aims of the Parish Communion Movement of the early 20th century, in its derivation from the practices of the Early Church bringing the people into the midst of the liturgy, rather than the medievalism of the Oxford Movement which rendered them passive and for the most part silent. In the Magazine of November 1906 Mr Deane pinned his colours to this mast in declaring

“Our Church makes its appeal to Scripture and the Primitive church; and [these both] teach us emphatically that the Eucharist is the chief act of Christian worship, the only service of Divine appointment, the only Gospel service, the only service obligatory upon all Christian people on the Lord’s Day in the Primitive Church”

Musically speaking, St Mary’s was living in interesting times too. The appointment in 1904 of George Pattman as Organist was an inspired choice, as much hard work lay ahead. The tenure of his predecessor William Green Martin had come slowly to a tragic end, as he had died in post of a brain tumour from which he had been suffering – in days before sickness benefit and free health care – for eight years. He was 47 years old, and had served St Mary’s since his appointment at the age of 22.

By 1904 efforts to have St Mary’s elevated to the status of Cathedral of the Diocese of Glasgow and Galloway were well advanced, and in all sorts of ways, physical, liturgical, and musical, standards had to be raised to meet this challenge. Mr Pattman, who had been apprenticed to Dr Haydn Keeton at Peterborough Cathedral, and had in the intervening years amassed significant experience in the churches of East Yorkshire and Humberside gaining a reputation as a successful choirmaster and trainer of boys’ voices. St Mary’s choir had, since the move to the Great Western Road building been a surpliced all male choir in the English Cathedral tradition, the gentlemen paid a small stipend varying according to length of service and experience, the boys given a free education at St Mary’s School in nearby Braid Street in lieu of payment. Mr Spens, however, will have remembered the choir at Old St Mary’s as being mixed; a “cock and hen” choir in the Scottish manner, unrobed and sitting in the West Gallery beside the organ, and so he might not be too alarmed by the present constitution of the choir, although the sight of women wearing surplices would have been startling to say the least. The scarlet of the cassocks worn by today’s musicians is different from the colour worn a century ago, as in preparation for “cathedralisation” – the term used in documents of 1908 – it was decided to change from the previous, unspecified colour to “bishops’ purple”, which was worn until the 1970s.

Compared with a century, even half a century ago, the modern congregational participation in the Ordinary of the Eucharist – the Gloria, Sanctus and Benedictus – would be a complete surprise to Mr Spens. In his later years the Eucharist was Choral every other week, alternating with a Choral Matins, and the Ordinary would have been sung by the choir to elaborate settings. Apart from the use of Gounod’s Messe Sollenelle every Easter, and until 1912 every Christmas, Whitsunday (Pentecost) and Dedication Festival, Latin Masses were not used, as they are occasionally today, but the norm was settings by English composers such as Martin, Stanford and Harwood of texts from the Book of Common Prayer. At the introduction of the Scottish Liturgy Mr Pattman adapted the Harwood setting to fit the Scottish use, and this was sung at Diocesan events.

The repertoire of anthems sung today would have been quite strange to our time-travelling visitor, as a century ago, although the number of anthems used was almost as great, they were far less varied, to a great extent limited to the style of the mid-19th century, to the works of Mendelssohn, Gounod and Spohr, and their weaker imitators. In this choice Mr Pattman shows the influence of his pupil-master Dr Haydn Keeton, of whom it was said by the conductor Sir Malcolm Sargent, one of his last apprentices, that

“Music stopped at Mendelssohn for him. He absolutely thought anything after Mendelssohn was very modern indeed…and he did not like it!”

Exceptions to this genre included the use in St Mary’s of Georgian verse anthems – anthems where most of the text was sung by a group of solo voices, by Purcell, Travers and Greene, giving the gentlemen the opportunity to shine – but also the use of anthems and excerpts from oratorios featuring the solo soprano voice, most notably the virtuoso aria “Let the bright seraphim” from Handel’s Samson, testifying to Mr Pattman’s skill as a trainer of boys’ voices. Neither of these genres is much in use today. In contrast, the range of evening Canticles was more varied in style. While some dreadful old 19th century warhorses such as Tours in F and Bunnet in A were still in the repertoire, some then contemporary examples still in use today were being added to join the classic Stanford settings, such as Brewer in D, Harwood in Ab, and Noble in Bm. Indeed it has recently been proved that some of the copies in use today date from Mr Pattman’s tenure as organist.

Although to modern ears the style of psalm-singing in the early years of the 20th century might seem hopelessly uncouth, the first part of each verse gabbled through and the last three words dragged out slowly and heavily, Mr Pattman and Provost Deane would probably be delighted to hear the current practice. Nowadays the aim is to replicate the manner of an intelligent reader delivering a text in a medium sized building such as St Mary’s, and colouring the words to underline their meaning. When Mr Pattman took up the post in 1904 he found the “gabble and thump” method of psalm singing well entrenched, thanks to the use in St Mary’s of The Cathedral Psalter of 1877 which encouraged such attempts to fit the organic variety of lyrical prose into the severity of regular rhythm. In 1905 he recommended replacing this with the newly published Ripon Psalter, one of the earliest methods to foster a more natural speech rhythm, and members of the congregation were encouraged to purchase a copy for themselves, to improve their efforts to join in. in 1911 The St Mary’s Chant Book was published by Novello and Sons, comprised of a collection of favourite chants, and some composed by Mr Pattman himself. Some of these latter, notably daring for their day, have recently been restored to the Cathedral Choir’s repertoire.

In his later years Mr Pattman was to write

“[Provost Deane and I] were keen that the services [at St Mary’s] should be a pattern for what church services ought to be, and were somewhat in advance of our time in regard to speech rhythm in the Psalms.”

That is rather an understatement; our modern version of this, and the provision of a pointed text and harmonised chant the better to enable congregational participation, is still a rarity in churches where psalms are sung.

Perhaps the strongest indication of the theological, liturgical and musical differences between the St Mary’s of a century ago and the way we experience it now may be found in the early 20th century customs and practices surrounding Christmas. While nowadays Advent is a season of looking forward in expectation to the Incarnation, a hundred years ago it was a time of eschatological, apocalyptic dread as illustrated by the selection of anthems such as Remember now thy Creator by Steggall, Behold, all flesh is grass by Brahms, and In the hour of death by Kitson. There were no Carol Services as we know them now, just a few simple and mostly secular Christmas songs sung at a special children’s service on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Christmas Day itself was a normal working day in Scotland, and the morning Eucharist, although splendid in its choice of music, had on a weekday to be timed to allow the gentlemen of the choir to “return to business” at mid-day. There would be no respite for the choir on Boxing Day, as regular daily Choral Evensong resumed on the 26th December.

It is often said that the practice of having a Watchnight Service on Hogmanay – there having been no similar Midnight Service on Christmas Eve – was to keep people out of the pub. However the choice of hymns for this service – they were always the same ones – would seem quite counterproductive in this respect. It can only be imagined how our modern congregation would respond to a service featuring such gems as

“Days and moments quickly flying/blend the living with the dead” (Hymn 289 from Hymns A&M)

Or

“A few more years shall roll,/ a few more seasons come,/ and we shall be with those/asleep within the tomb.” (A&M no 288)

A Happy New Year to you too!

When John Alexander Spens concluded his memoir of worship at Old St Mary’s with the caution that “…standards were very different from those now in vogue” he may have been justified. However, although styles may have changed through the last century, it seems that standards, in terms of a care for rich, thoughtful liturgy and a care for the best possible musical offering, were equally high then as now. When, many years later, George Pattman was asked to contribute to a posthumous biography of Frederic Llewellyn Deane, he summed up the relationship at the core of the first Golden Age thus;

“[Provost Deane’s] humanity, sympathetic understanding and wisdom made my life at St Mary’s a veritable bed of roses. Consequently I loved him and I loved the work there.”

As most church musicians would agree, this remains the Holy Grail of our profession, often sought, but rarely found.

Cedric and Kelvin kindly allowed me to shadow them each for a week to see how St Mary’s functions and these are some of my observations.

We all experience the beautiful music and liturgy at services and worship – but what happens behind the scenes to make this happen so seamless, and what about the day to day running of a place like St Mary’s ? My immediate impression was that it is run like any other small company and, like any other company, it has to promote itself, sell a product, and keep afloat keep financially.

St Mary’s promotes itself in its own unique way, through the style and quality of its music and preaching, and its commitment to being welcoming, open, and inclusive. St Mary’s promotes itself in other ways too, making full use of twenty-first century technologal advances. It has its own website, which is constantly updated and kept ‘fresh’, and also uses social media and networking. Doors Open days allow individuals to pop in and see the building, ask questions and, hopefully, become more interested in the ‘company’ and its product.

The St Mary’s company, like any other, has to be innovative and diverse. As well as selling its main product, it has to make full use of its premises in other ways such as hiring out the building for concerts and exhibitions. Like any other company, accounts and reports have to be prepared and produced so that ‘shareholders’ know what is happening, know how St Mary’s is performing, and are aware of plans for future developments.

Observing the workings of the ‘company’ was both interesting and informative. I saw how Jo the administrator prepares the liturgical pew sheets containing the order of service, the praise, and music. I became aware of the seasonal changes to the kyrie, eucharistic prayer, and blessing, and that settings for the Propers change once every six weeks, and the Collect changes every week. These sheets are prepared some weeks in advance and involve a lot of hard work and time.

Then there is the logistics of producing the Sunday services, something which again is no mean feat, and entails a lot of organisation. There is what is called the ‘Cast’, a list of all the participants in the performance and every member has to tick his or her name on arrival. Some of the ‘performers’ are the celebrant, the deacon, the sub-deacon, the preacher, the MC, the crucifer, the acolytes, the thurifer, the lesson reader, the intercessor, the eucharistic assistants, and the welcomers.

Beyond the Sunday services there are other numerous other activities and groups going on such as the study groups, choir practice, visiting the sick, pastoral visiting, and Faith in older people (FIOP), where an elderly person who cannot come to church regularly is visited by a member of St Mary’s. There is also the Contact Group, which organise visits to individuals with particular needs, such as hospital visits and the like.

I was allowed to sit in on meetings with Kelvin, Cedric, and Jo, where everyday issues where discussed and plans for future developments were brain -stormed. What came across was that the ‘company’ of St Mary’s realises it cannot ‘rest on its laurels’ and has to be insightful and innovative to remain successful. It also came across that everybody has his or her own interests and remit and that, although it is their responsibility to carry out that duty, there appears to be flexibility. Importantly, there is a good sense of humour, which helps the working environment and light relief when needed.

Successful companies have, among other things a good and committed ‘workforce’, and St Mary’s has an abundance of this. There are approximately one hundred and fifty volunteers helping to make this company work. The obvious ones are the choir, the stewards, the open church volunteers, the hospitality volunteers, the bell-ringers, the young church volunteers, the welcomers, the servers, and probably others whom I have missed out. I spoke to a number of individuals who volunteer at St Mary’s and have done so for many years, and the success of the company is very much due to their energy and commitment, and to the efficient way their work is managed.

Then there are the working groups of St Mary’s such as the Compliance Group dealing with health and safety; the Property Group dealing with the fabric of the building; the Finance Group dealing with money, and the Core Group dealing with future development. Like any company, St Mary’s needs money to survive, and every year there is a Stewardship campaign asking individuals to review their giving and to pay for the upkeep and maintenance of the building and its salaried personnel.

Further entrepreneurial spirit is also revealed in the rental of the parking bays at the front of the building to local businesses, and of space in the spire to a telecommunications firm where they have installed their aerial.

You have probably noticed the main product this company sells has not been mentioned so far, and this is its CEO – God! Yes, St Mary’s is like many other small companies and has to run in a business like way, but the big difference between St Mary’s and other companies is that it is not in the business of making financial profit, but in the special business of promoting and worshipping God.

The cathedral was dim, a far cry from its Sunday brightness, as we, warmly dressed and sensibly shod, put down our bags and rucksacks and gathered in a circle of friends and strangers around the altar. We prepared ourselves to journey towards the sea with St Brendan’s prayer in preparation for setting sail, the prayer of a man preparing to leave all he knew for a strange land as so many did in the early centuries of the church, and so many thousands do today.

“Shall I turn my back on my native land, and turn my face towards the sea? Towards the elements, the noise, the wind, the spray, the hostility, the misunderstanding, the abuse, the ridicule, the uncertainty, the fear, the isolation?”

Unlike early Christian explorers or modern refugees, our journey was not a final departure laden with fear and supported only by trust in God but a day pilgrimage to Whithorn, undertaken in modern comfort on a luxury coach by our group of 32 pilgrims, led by Rev Cedric Blakey and Rev Kirstin Freeman.

It is a surprisingly long way to Whithorn, particularly when a closure on the A77 sent us on a winding diversion through many extra miles of the beautiful countryside of the south west of Scotland. When we arrived at Whithorn, we were very thankful for the thoughtfulness of the kind people at the Whithorn Trust visitor centre, who had arranged tea and coffee in generous quantity in an upstairs room. Some of us – me among them – felt an imperative need for cake after the early start and long journey and were not disappointed. The baking in the visitor centre cafe is notably good!

Suitably refreshed, we were driven out beyond the town to our first real ‘destination’ – St Ninian’s cave. Like so many other figures in the early church and since, Ninian is said to have spent time in a cave on the beach, seeking quiet and space to pray and meditate away from the community in which he lived. Approached through a wooded glen, the bay gives a tremendous sense of peace even today with no houses visible, just the pebble beach with sea-rounded stones in a variety of colours.

The cave itself is small and narrow, marked by centuries of inscriptions from visiting pilgrims, some of whom have also left stones from the beach or small crosses as symbols of their prayer, intent or presence. The site has been a place of pilgrimage for over 1000 years, with the earliest carvings (now in the Whithorn museum) dating from the 700s or 800s.

We gathered in a circle outside the cave for a very simple short Eucharist, led by Rev Kirstin Freeman. A central element of the service was the idea of laying down the burdens of worry, anxiety for self or others, the need for forgiveness that we had carried on our pilgrimage. In turn, we each poured out a little water from a glass as a symbol of all that we were relinquishing and laying down in God’s care. It was very peaceful with the sole accompaniment to our prayers the rapid rhythm of the waves sweeping onto the rocks in front of the cave and the slightly softer sound as each wave ran up the pebble beach.

Thus spiritually refreshed, it was time for bodily sustenance and we scattered to find picnic spots and enjoy the surprisingly warm sunshine and the beauty of the sea. For many people, this quiet relaxed time on the beach was the highlight of the day – certainly it was for me.

All too soon it was time to return to the bus (pausing to pick brambles) and to Whithorn itself where the group again separated to make the most of the warm, sunny afternoon as seemed best to them, whether eating ice cream, taking a guided tour of the archaeology or heading for a pub to watch Scotland’s crucial game against Samoa (Scotland won!) in the Rugby Union World Cup.

I explored the ruined priory, built to house the relics of St Ninian. The Romanesque ruins we now see form part of what became a far larger structure, a combination of cathedral, priory and parish church, although it is hard to get a sense of the scale of the mediaeval structures, so completely have they vanished beneath the old graveyard, itself full of old stones telling complicated stories of families’ misfortunes, long lives or the kindness of friends.

Earlier stones, mostly dating from the tenth and eleventh century and unearthed in Whithorn and the surrounding area, form the core of the priory museum. While the ‘Latinus stone’, Scotland’s earliest Christian monument with a Latin inscription and a chi-rho symbol is probably considered the ‘star exhibit’, I particularly enjoyed some of the stones with ‘Celtic’ interlace patterns – not least because the carvers made mistakes! Seeing the points where a curve had been carved in the wrong direction or a mistake made in the rhythm of the pattern made the long-dead carvers human and living for me in a way perfection could not.

After tea, more delicious cake and a brief service in the priory ruins, it was time to head north back to Glasgow where eventually tired pilgrims arrived, enriched by history and the beauty of Whithorn and St Ninian’s bay.

Last Friday night, like many Glaswegians throughout the city, I had a curry for dinner. However, I dId not head for the local take away or restaurant, instead I made my way to the Al’Furquan Mosque in the West End of Glasgow, as a guest of the Muslim community there, invited to join them in their celebrations of Eid. It is their custom to ask their neighbours to a meal on these occasions and their guests included members of the local churches as well as students and other folk who live nearby. St Mary’s Cathedral is their nearest church, which is why I was fortunate to be there.

I had never been to such an event before, in fact I had never been to a mosque before, and although I knew the Provost and another member of our congregation would be there, it was with a little apprehension of the unknown that I arrived at the hall next to the mosque for the meal. Within minutes of my arrival I was completely reassured. Three young Muslim women greeted me with smiles, jokes at each other’s expense, and admiration of the interior of St Mary’s, which they had visited out of curiosity. I was whisked into the hall by two of the women and seated at a table near the door. I was early and the room was almost empty. We chatted, how we chatted, about our families, our backgrounds, my role at the Cathedral and their role at an Islamic Centre in a nearby town. Before I knew it the tables had filled up and the proceedings started.

We were formally welcomed by members of the Mosque, including their President. They spoke movingly of their desire for dialogue within their local community and beyond, to ensure all diverse groups could meet together in friendship, acceptance and above all peace. They drew attention to the standing banners, which were arranged round two sides of the hall. One set was entitled The Celtic Crescent, the result of research by members of the mosque to describe the link between Islam and the Celtic history and culture. The other set described the Five Pillars of Islam, faith, prayer, fasting, charity and pilgrimage, which are the five basic acts in Islam and the mainstay of Muslim life. We were told that the Mosque is open five times a day for the prayer, as prescribed by their faith, and were invited to call in at any time.

The buffet meal that followed was delicious and the hospitality most generous. There were twelve tables with ten people at each table and yet very quickly everyone had helped themselves to the fragrant, appetising dishes. Mmmm, the seekh kabab, chicken tikka, baby potatoes, vegetable spring rolls! Yum, vegetable curry, lamb karahi , pilau rice and naan bread! What a feast, what a celebration! And all round the hall the conversation and laughter continued.

While we ate the dessert we heard a young Muslim academic deliver a talk entitled In the Footsteps of Abraham. He told us that the Eid we were celebrating had links with the Hajj (pilgrimage) to the Grand Mosque at Mecca and spoke sadly of the deaths caused this year when a huge crane collapsed on a crowded square and later when an even greater loss of life occurred when pilgrims were crushed to death in the heaving crowds. He described the importance of the sacred history and worship of the prophet Abraham and in quiet, lilting tones sang from the Koran, telling the story of Abraham and his son, Isaac.

It was then time for thanks from the guests. Members of the Church of Scotland, the Reformed Church, Interfaith Scotland and our provost, representing St Mary’s Cathedral, spoke of their appreciation of the opportunity to meet in this way. Kelvin described how part of our Eucharist includes the Peace when the congregation wish each other peace with a handshake. At this point he shook the hand of the President of the Muslim community and said the words, “Peace be with you”.

We knew from the original invitation that the event was due to finish at nine o’clock but when it got near to this time we were told that if anyone would like to go to see what happens at the final prayers of the day in the Mosque then we would be welcome to go along. At this point one of the young women who had welcomed us invited some of us to join her in the women’s upstairs room while she said her prayers before returning home. She explained that she had not attended the earlier prayers and now needed to catch up. She would say the final prayers of the day later at home. We followed her upstairs to a long, bare, softly lit room, the floor covered in a spotless red and gold carpet with individual prayer mats incorporated in the design. We stood in silence while she said her prayers, kneeling and touching the floor with her forehead repeatedly. She prepared then to go home while we went downstairs to the main Mosque. But as she left she turned back, rushed up to me and two young women guests, kissed us in turn and was gone. It was a moving moment.

Downstairs in the main mosque, chairs had been placed at the back for the visitors while at the front the men’s final prayers of the day had begun. The prayers were chanted and the men went through the ritual of standing, kneeling and prostrating themselves. Throughout this time men continued to arrive and afterwards it was explained that latecomers stay behind to complete the whole pattern of prayer.

The evening over the guests drifted out into the Autumn evening. It was a fascinating evening, over too soon, and opened my eyes to a religion and culture I knew only the basics about. It was privilege to have been there.

And I will never forget that young woman rushing back to kiss me.

The Vice Provost, Cedric Blakey has devised a game to enable small groups talk about God. In this week’s article explains why he did it and how it works.

I have found an astonishing interest and energy for enquiry about God in Glasgow. The following were just a few of the questions asked by the God Factor course group earlier this year:

• Does God exist? Who created God?
• What does God look like/ feel like?
• Why does God allow and permit evil to exist?
• Is God a man?
• Does God ever change?

How can we initiate exploration of these kinds of questions, and enable discussion about God?

I have devised a game called Theopoly. Depending on the size of the group it can be played competitively with dice, or collaboratively standing round a table. The aim is to achieve, not riches and capitalist property owning domination, but ideas, arguments from a community chest of possibilities.

There is a ‘board’ with squares round the four sides, as in a Monopoly board, and a set of animal characters for participants to identify themselves. On some of the squares are placed the questions asked by the group. Players choose a symbol and in the collaborative version of the game, then walk round the table placing their symbol on the square that most interests them.

By each question there is a set of possible answers, placed upside down on separate squares of paper. Each participant then takes turn to read out their chosen question and to turn over the possible answers, reading them out and retaining the ones that they find helpful, returning the ones that they don’t. Other participants can ‘steal’ any unwanted answer. Participants can add their own answers, writing them on blank squares of paper and adding them to the answer piles.

In a short period of time a great deal of ground can be covered. For instance, the person choosing the question “Does God exist?” last time found five possible answers. The first was “The Bible says so.” Not very helpful, they said. The second answer was “The existence of God is a fantasy, deluded people’s ‘invisible friend’”. There is an interest in contemporary secularism, but so far this response has not been chosen either.

The remaining answers came from other so-called “proofs” of the existence of God: the existence of beauty and love, science, philosophy and personal experience. So we have “Where else could the experience of beauty and human love have come from?” “Scientists who had a belief in God include Newton, Kepler, Kelvin, and Einstein.” “Plato, Aristotle, Immanuel Kant argued the existence of God from the existence of good.” “God has changed my life- some people say.”

In turning over the provided answers participants naturally begin to speak of counter arguments and other arguments in favour. They find a space, standing together around the table to throw in ideas, tell stories and make reference to books, films and personal experience. It is a fast-moving process, once the conversation on a particular subject flags another person takes their turn.

What emerges is a process that enables individuals and the group to speak about God. This appears to be something that folk want to do these days.

Taking seriously questions about God form an important part of our understanding about what people are asking about. In turn this has informed the provisions of other parts of the adult learning experience at St Mary’s, not least the Sunday preaching, the shaping of the liturgy and music, the explaining of the building and its use, and the motto of the congregation “Open, Welcoming, Inclusive”.

It’s wonderful irony of course. For it is impossible to speak about God adequately. And on occasions it is just not possible, or appropriate, at all. And if one tries, it is with great delicacy. What does one say after the Clutha bar helicopter crash? Or the pre-Christmas Queen Street bin lorry tragedy. Or the post-referendum crowd clashes in George Square. What do we say by the bedside of the critically ill and alongside the broken in spirit? And what do we think of within ourselves when faith feels inadequate or is absent. When someone lets us down. Or equally, when we know we have failed against our own standards of being and practice.

This process is not an optional extra to the life of the church, or to any Christian. Speaking about God is one of life’s essentials. In the busy office, the sports centre, bus stop and on-line. How we equip ourselves and others to do it, and to do it authentically is just one reason to try Theopoly.

The game of Theopoly is often played during the God Factor course.

On 18 July 2015, Nelson Mandela’s birthday, a container of 50,000 books left from City Chambers, George Square, Glasgow to be delivered to school and public libraries in the Eastern Cape Province of South Africa.   The container was organised by Action for Southern Africa (ACTSA), the successor organisation to the Anti-Apartheid Movement.   ACTSA, along with its partner, Community HEART, a British-based charity supporting the development of South Africa, has now sent over 3,000,000 books to South Africa.   The container sent from Glasgow helped us to achieve that figure.

The books will go to schools like the one in Elliotdale that I visited when I was in South Africa last year.   The local community in Bomvanaland decided to build a secondary school at Elliotdale in 1997, three years after the end of apartheid.   They raised the money and they built the school.   It now has a library, but there is a problem.   They have shelves, desks and chairs, but they do not have any books. There are schools like this all over South Africa.

The first time that I went to South Africa was in 1993, and I visited a school in Soweto.   The head teacher, when she learned that I was a librarian, asked if I would like to see there library.   I agreed and she brought out a box, which only contained a Latin Bible.   This was used to show the children what a book looked like.   That is a good example of what library provision was like for black children under apartheid.

Since 1994, and the end of apartheid, there has been a huge investment in schools in South Africa, but there was no magic wand to be waived so that all the facilities required could be supplied, and not just in education, but housing, health, employment, transport, electricity, clean water etc.   So some things required international solidarity.

My friend, Kader Asmal, who was Minister of Education in Mandela’s government, spoke to my friend, Denis Goldberg, who was gaoled at the same time as Nelson Mandela, and they agreed that they should ask people in the UK to send 1,000,000 books, and so the book appeal began.   ACTSA Scotland, in particular, rose to the challenge and has been sending containers of books on a regular basis since we began collecting books in 1996.

When we were in Cape Town in 2000, Denis and I reported to Kader that the UK had sent a million books, and his reply was “Can you make it 3,000,000?”   Sadly, Kader is no longer with us, but I can hear him asking “Can you make it 5,000,000?” now that we have achieved the 3,000,000 target.   The need is still there.   I saw that for myself last year in South Africa.

So, what has this got to do with the Scottish Episcopal Church, and the Diocese of Glasgow and Galloway in particular?   Well, recently, Bishop Gregor convened a meeting to discuss how the Diocese should approach international issues.   It was decided that to launch this approach, we needed something that would be a quick hit, and the ACTSA Scotland Book Appeal fitted the bill.   The container was already booked for 18^th July, and we had to make sure that it was full.   So Bishop Gregor wrote to the 66 churches in the Diocese and asked them to send their contributions to Hillhead Library.   We had no trouble in filling the container.   [In fact, a fair proportion of the next container has now been filled.]   The generosity of the donors was extraordinary.

On the day, about 50 volunteers assembled at Hillhead Library at 10.00am to start loading the container.   Trolleys were used to get the boxes of books to the foot of the basement stairs in Hillhead Library.   The boxes of books were then passed hand to hand up the stairs, into the car park and then onto the container.   This took three and a half hours.   The volunteers then headed to City Chambers for the official send off at 2.00pm.   Meanwhile the jazz band had arrived at City Chambers to set up for the reception.   Peter Wakeford organised this.   The container and the guests arrived at City Chambers more or less simultaneously.   The guest of honour was Obed Mlaba, the South African High Commissioner to the UK.   Bishop Idris was there to represent the Diocese, the Depute Lord Provost represented the City Council and their Deputy General Secretary represented the STUC.   The event ended with a 17-year old Icelandic baritone, Magnus Walker, singing the South African National Anthem.

This was the first event in which the Scottish Episcopal Church participated following Bishop Gregor’s initiative.   The second, the “Glasgow Sees Syria” concert at St. Mary’s Cathedral, has already taken place.   There will be more.

Little by little, action by action, we will change the world.

Run Riko Run!!!!!

3000 kilometres in 365 days. To most of us who run a little, or have done so in the past, it’s very easy to do the simple maths and think, “Hmmm, that doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”. Well think again, but this time be honest. Most of you will know that Riko Kumagai, a regular at St Mary’s Cathedral and member of our choir, committed herself at the start of 2015 to do just this; to run 3000km in one year. So let’s blow the numbers apart a little and get a sense of what this really means.

Running 3000km would take Riko from Glasgow to Berlin and back (and not as the crow flies!). To many people, taking part in a marathon or even a 10k run is a huge achievement. Riko would have to take part in three hundred 10k events, or participate in nearly 72 marathons to cover this 3000km distance in one year. That’s more than one marathon a week, every week. The magazine ‘Runners’ World’ suggests that those training for a marathon cover 30-50 miles a week, and Riko is currently on track with this target. Sounds achievable until you factor in the recommended six weeks recovery time after each marathon. Pretty hard to do when you’re trying to run more than one marathon a week!

So how and why does she do it? Running has always been a part of life for Riko. When asked how old she was when she started running, she simply laughs and says, “You learn to walk, then you learn to run. Then you just keep going….why stop walking or running?”. Competing in athletics meets at school as a teenager in Japan, Riko’s talents lay in hurdling and sprinting. As you grow older, she says, the sprinting becomes harder and many women turn to longer distances, particularly after having children. Riko didn’t run her first marathon till after daughter Eilidh was born. Although able to drive, Riko chooses not to for environmental reasons, so running also fulfils a practical purpose.

Fitting her running into a busy life, working around family commitments and the unpredictable Scottish weather is a real challenge for Riko. Rain doesn’t bother her, however, in fact she says that running in different weathers makes you appreciate things that most people often miss. Regular barefoot runs of 5km keep her feet strong, and mixing in hills and sprints breaks up the routine of the weekly training. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle and keeping ourselves free of the unavoidable aches and pains is hard enough for most of us. To maintain her running schedule Riko needs to stay injury free, eat a healthy but calorific diet, get plenty of sleep and stay away from all temptations such as alcohol. Doing this day in, day out is tough, but thankfully Riko is already nearly two thirds of the way through the year without any major issues. To ensure that she clocks up the miles sufficiently each week, Riko will regularly run from her home in Newton Mearns to the cathedral for choir practice, or to a service on Sunday. Riko’s son Leo has been improving his cooking skills in order to help out with mealtimes while Mum is out running. Running, the desire to run and now the need to run, is built into every part of Riko’s life.

When asked why raise money for the St Mary’s Cathedral Music Endowment Fund, for Riko the answer is simple; to give back a little of what she and her family have received from worship and making music there. Riko was a member of Hillhead Baptist Church (where she still has strong connections) when her partner Paul heard about our Treble Choir. Frikki was musical director with the Bearsden Choir and was encouraging anyone with children interested in singing to come along.     Leo has been in the choir now for nearly eight years, and also takes regular organ lessons with Frikki where he is showing real talent. When Riko’s daughter Eilidh was old enough to join the treble section, Riko decided, with two children now able to sing in the choir, she might as well join them! St Mary’s Cathedral, and its choir, have become a big part of Riko’s life, and to her raising money to support this cause seemed only natural.

So far, Riko has raised nearly £2,300 towards the Music Endowment Fund. Her target at the start of the year was £10,000, so there is still quite a way to go with a third of the distance left to run. For every kilometre Riko runs, she needs to raise £3.33, which again isn’t much when you do the maths and have three thousand donations! Many of you will already have donated either to the cathedral, or directly to Riko to support her run. There will also be many who know that the deadline for handing in your donation is the end of this year, and aren’t in too much of a rush to get this done. Whatever your position, spread the news and let’s have a real push to get Riko as close as we can to her target figure. Riko needs no motivation, but it can’t be denied that seeing the fund-raising total rise will be a big boost!

You can donate through Riko’s web-page at http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/Riko (don’t forget to add Gift Aid if you are eligible). Alternatively cash or cheques made payable to St Mary’s Cathedral, with ‘Riko’s Run’ clearly written on the back can be handed to any of the stewards on duty.

Please also follow and support Riko’s progress on Facebook by searching for ‘3000km in 2015’. Rikos next big run is the Loch Ness Marathon on 27^th September.