Extremes

The heat this week- extreme by Yorkshire standards; it is 44 C according to the thermometer on the cabin in the back garden- has reminded me of my year in the States, to which I set off fifty years ago this last week. I noted in the diary I kept that on one memorable day soon after I arrived in one of the leafier suburbs of St. Louis, Missouri, that the temperature rose to 108F, a degree or two warmer than it is here today.
By contrast, in the winter it fell one day, if we count the wind-chill factor in as well, to minus 59F. I remember that day well; I had walked the mile into the town, and ran back as fast as I could, or I was sure my ears would drop off.
Mostly of course, it was less extreme, and mostly pleasant, although the humidity was hard to cope with in the summer. Three showers a day failed to keep me from being dripping wet, in spite of the air-con. I prefer a more equable climate. But wonder if the heat this week is a sign of things to come in this age of climate change.

There is a middle way in the faith too. Some have despised it, most notably the writer of the Revelation, berating one of the seven churches of the Roman province of Asia (in western Turkey) to which he was writing, for its being 'neither hot nor cold'. Well, I hope to be sincere and firm in my faith- I am reluctant to use that overworked word 'passionate'- but not lukewarm. Judicious, wise, seeing what good I can in all, drawing strength from many sides. I hope Jesus would approve. And maybe it's needed, a via media,a middle way, in today's world where polarity seems to be flavour of the month. 'The common good'; there they are, those words I keep uttering, in prayers and sermons. They demand a middle way.