Today is the 25th anniversary of my ordination. I have banned the Session Clerks from organising anything as this is not the congregation into which I was ordained and so it does not mark the length of service I have shared with them. They did that last year at our tenth year together. Instead this weekend I am marking it as my anniversary, a celebration that will involve helping at Messy Church today, leading worship tomorrow, and sharing cake with the few I think will stay for coffee after church. It is Mothering Sunday in the UK and so most will be heading off to get on with the family markings that happen.

I’ve not quite got to the sermon writing yet, but I have been thinking about the Gospel text from John 9: 1-41. It is a rich text with so much to pull on I’m not sure where to start. However there are a couple of thoughts that have risen out of it that I am not sure I will say in worship.

The first was the noticing of the blind man’s parents, and recognising the role of those who are our parents and those who love us most as clergy. I wonder at the blindness they have to wear as they support the clergy that is their offspring or spouse. I know my own parents have often wondered at the kind of things said about clergy within their own congregation, and been concerned about me – not wanting the hurtful things to be part of what I do. But I also think of the conversations I have had with parents of a young person in a previous charge who was thinking about ordination. Their concern at the pain and hurt that is inflicted (perhaps unintentionally) on a minister, and not wanting that for their child.

My other noticing that being alleviated of our blindness to the world around is not easy. Instead it comes with the weight of knowing that we are going to be affected by what we see, and that we need to live our lives conscious of what we newly discover. At times during my ministry I have learnt that sometimes being blind to what is going on is a less painful option. Sometimes being blind to the foibles of others allows them hopefully to recognise that they are loved and valued.

I think this sounds a lot darker than it is meant to, and perhaps that’s why I am not sure it is for preaching. But instead a recognition that in 25 years I have discovered a lot of things I and others don’t like about myself but I’ve had to learn, and I am still learning, to not let the sudden revelations of others not always be visible beyond the front door of the Manse.