So the Dock has been popping up on TV screens all across the land over the last few weeks – so, as promised/threatened, here are a few examples…

Some diligent iPlayer searching has revealed that a lot of those appearances are now lost to the mists of time; alas and alack, many encounters between myself and Mark Simpson off of the BBC have now disappeared from the web, while the TV coverage of the service at the Drawing Offices has now also passed its sell-by date.  And to my great relief, my attempt to get myself out of a tricky sentence by describing the curves of the Titanica sculpture using only hand-gestures, has also gone (I was worried it would make its way onto YouTube compete with AWOOGA! sound effects…)

But the Dock is still out there… on the RTE player I found this clip of me being interviewed by the terrifyingly-professional 12-year-old Gabrielle:

…while the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation – we’re international baby!) sent me a link to their piece on Titanic Belfast, which includes the Grand Opening of Dock Cafe:

(I’ll forgive them for clearly cutting me off mid-sentence – I probably blathered on for ages…)

It’s not just TV that suffered the blitzkrieg either – I was on Radio Ulster a couple of times, including Thought for the Day on Sunday 15th (now disappeared from iPlayer, but the script made its way on to the blog here).  And two separate programmes featured the Dock Walk – first of all Great British Faith on Radio 2 (which was a fantastic hour-long exploration of the faith life of the city – I’ll try to track down a way of putting it on the web if possible) and then a feature on Radio 4, in which reporter Mark McCleary followed our windswept and rain-lashed Dock Walk on Easter Day – it’s still on iPlayer, 15:32 into the programme here.

But of course the gold standard, the big cheese, the numero uno of all possible TV appearances… repeated last Sunday on BBC2 to mark the anniversary, it’s (dah-dee-de-dah, dah-dee-de-daaaah) the one and only Songs of Praise…

So as I promised, an update on the Dock publicity blitzkrieg…  I may have been lying low for a day or two this week, but The Dock has featured in a whole host of interviews, photo ops, media opportunities and general shameless showing-off…

So, today – appearances in print:
We’ve featured in Rejoice Always magazine… (a really thorough interview if you can get hold of the mag (or there’s a copy in Dock Cafe) – probably the best way to catch up on the Dock Story So Far!  So we’ll forgive them for putting a boat that’s Not The Titanic on the front cover…)

We’ve been in Christian Today… (link brings you directly to the article – another good interview, although why do English people often rename the Titanic Quarter ‘Titanic Quarters’?  There’s only one – it’s unique!)

We’re on the front of the Church of Ireland Gazette… (great picture of Karen & the Dean – but a description of Sunday afternoon’s service which doesn’t mention the walk or the service at the Drawing Office – boo!)

We’re on the cover of the Christian Aid magazine… (messing around on bicycles to advertise the Titanic Cycle Challenge – more info on the link – and in response to several people who have asked on Facebook, errr… no, we’re not doing the full 300-mile challenge.  We are making breakfast at Dock Cafe for the cyclists before they depart…is that enough??)

We’re also featured in Evangelical Alliance’s Reach e-zine (sorry, this one’s a few weeks old – forgot to post the link when it first came out!)

And I don’t know exactly where or when, but I’ve heard from a few people that the pictures of our ‘Shared Medley’ of ministers have appeared in a couple of outlets throughout the week as well.  Yep I’m wearing a ‘proper minister’ collar – enjoy it while it lasts!!

I think that’s all in print for now… Tomorrow: TV and radio – the invasion continues!

Well hello again, after a little bit of a breather to recover from perhaps the most phenomenal two weeks of my life!  And the idea was to give you all a little bit of a breather too, from my regular appearances on your TV screens, radio sets and magazine covers – didn’t work out quite like that – more about that tomorrow!

For now I just thought I’d better finish off the story of the last few weeks.  Those of you who have been following this blog (you brave souls) will have seen the posts growing longer and more frequent, your trusty blogger becoming more emotional, and my beard growing ever longer and scruffier (don’t worry, it’s all shaved off now – it was starting to scare children).  And as each event seemed to be more powerful, more moving, more beautiful than the last, the question emerged – would there be enough superlatives left in the English language if it just kept getting better and better?

And the answer is quite simply – no.  It’s hard to put into words why this whole story has come to mean so much.  Andrew Marr may be leading the sarky backlash to the Titanic overload, Julian Fellowes is (quite rightly I reckon) getting a bit of a kicking for the terribleness of his half-hearted take on the whole affair, and it’s becoming increasingly trendy to profess a world-weary Titanic-cynicism (Titanicism…?) whenever the subject is mentioned.  All that I can say is that for those of us in the middle of the story for the last few weeks, the commemoration of this Titanic story, with its extremes of hope and sorrow, its uncountable fascinating facets and angles, was a profound experience we will never forget.

And I think (hope!) it was a profound weekend not just for me but the whole Dock gang.  We had the huge privilege of manning (and womanning) a Prayer Room right at the heart of events (in the pavilion at Titanic Belfast) throughout the weekend, offering prayer, chat and space to those (and there were plenty) who chose to step aside and come in through the doors.

I got to see sunset on 14th April and sunrise on 15th – and wonder what it must have been like to see both, on both dates, on the Atlantic 100 years ago:

We got to meet some fantastic people; Gayle got to meet Dr Robert Ballard, who discovered Titanic’s final resting place on the seabed; I got to meet Eric Kuhne, the visionary designer who master-planned the Titanic Quarter development (and left his own unique mark in the Book of Commoration at the Prayer Room):
 And I had the unique, immense privilege of leading the service at Titanic Belfast to mark the exact centenary of Titanic’s fateful collision at 11:40pm on 14th April.

 Gathered on the balconies of Titanic Belfast, we heard the complex, ethereal harmonies of Eric Whitacre’s Water Night; gathered in the Drawing Office, we listened to the words of Thomas Hardy’s unmatched poem The Convergence of the Twain and the terse, tragic SOS messages from Titanic (which have a kind of poetry of their own); and gathered in the night air, surrounded by the design offices and slipways where Titanic’s story began, we read aloud the names of the individuals whose earthly stories ended when Titanic sank.

And the next morning, we gathered at the City Hall as the striking new brass-and-stone monument to those names was unveiled.  (Although, if I can jump on my soapbox again, has nobody been down to see the beautiful work that’s been done on Titanic’s slipways? – many commentators claimed that the monument at the City Hall contained the first public display of those names, but if I’m not much mistaken, they are also etched in the glass panels surrounding the old concrete ramps on the slipway – just one more thoughtful detail of the superb slipway restoration… Rant over.)

And then – the afternoon.  A dignified and moving service at St Anne’s Cathedral.  Followed by the biggest-ever Dock Walk, leading a tremendous crowd of the worshippers from St Anne’s down to the Drawing Offices in the TQ – and enjoying the expressions on the faces of the many people who hadn’t visited Titanic Quarter before, and watching their delight and surprise and hope that this superb, beautiful new community is becoming reality in Belfast:
 …and finishing off at the Drawing Office with a service involving contributions from all the different voices of the Shared Medley – thoughts, readings, reflections, prayers, personal stories, Titanic stories, stories of hope and vision for our future as a city…  And to cap it all off, worship – beautiful old hymns, raising the roof of that beautiful room, such an immensely significant and important part of our past – and now at the centre of our hope for the future too…

So – yeah, I’ve run out of words.  I’ll either have to start translating into French or Spanish or Latin, or maybe just stop now!  A weekend full of the past and the future, full of great people, and full of a great God.  It was… [superlative overload reached]

Early morning on 15th April, 1912.  The sun rose over the Atlantic ocean as the shivering, shellshocked survivors of Titanic were helped from their flimsy lifeboats aboard the overloaded little steam liner Carpathia.  Once they were safely aboard, starting to warm, starting to believe they were safe at last,  I wonder how many of them watched the traces of colour flood the sky as the sun rose after their dark, icy, terrible night. I wonder what they were thinking. I do wonder if any of them watched the sun rise that morning, or any of the mornings to come as they made their slow progress to New York, and made vows, promises to themselves, of how they were going to use this second chance at life, this unexpected sunrise.

Some of those who stood on the deck of Carpathia that morning were haunted by the Titanic tragedy for the rest of their lives.    Some, like the famously unsinkable Molly Brown, became celebrities of the whole affair, and used their fame and their stories to raise money for those who had lost everything when Titanic sank.  One survivor, actress Dorothy Gibson, even starred in a film of the disaster – playing herself, of course (and, she claimed, wearing the same dress in which she had been rescued). Some, like the stewardess Violet Jessop, changed the direction of their lives; Violet became a nurse, only to find herself posted as a wartime nurse to the Britannic, Titanic’s sister ship, and in a strange case of history repeating itself, surviving its sinking during World War 1.  Some survivors never truly recovered, some refused to talk about it, some told their stories again and again for the rest of their days. All were changed forever as a result of their experiences. And I wonder how many of them reflected on those changes, reassessed their lives, made those internal promises, as they looked across the Atlantic from the decks of Carpathia exactly 100 years ago today.

It often happens that after a traumatic event or a narrow escape we find ourselves making those kind of promises. We will stop wasting our lives doing things of no significance. We will follow the dreams that we once had, take the risk to do the things we feel we were born to do. We will tell our loved ones that we love them while we have the chance. We will make amends, right wrongs, do our best to live our lives with no regrets. Tragedy often brings a kind of clarity that awakens us from the mundane and the everyday, and invites us to ask the big question: what am I doing with my one-and-only life?

It’s a good question, and we don’t have to wait for a time of trial to ask it. Let’s stand on the decks of Carpathia today and share in some of the insights of those shivering survivors. Every sunrise is a gift. Every day is a blessing. Every breath cannot be taken for granted. Every life is full of boundless possibilities and opportunities.  What would I do today if I truly realised how precious, how fragile and how beautiful life really is? Whatever that thing is, Lord God, help me to do it today.

Coming atcha today from a quick lunch stop in Titanic Belfast (thanks, free wifi!)

The big day is well underway with another sellout day at Titanic Belfast; I hear from Colin that the Walking Tours are booked solid with visitors from the cruise ships berthed in Belfast this weekend.  I’ve just seen Robert Ballard (who found Titanic’s resting place back in 1985) and Eric Kuhne (who created the Titanic Quarter masterplan and designed Titanic Belfast) having a bite of lunch.  The cafe staff are pedal-to-the-metal.

And in the midst of it all, one unique, wonderful, precious thing the church can offer is – space.  And peace.  And time to reflect, and pray.  A chance to take the pedal off the metal and allow God to speak in the midst of the melee, and the rush of emotions that often comes with it.

And so I could genuinely not be more thrilled with the way things have worked out for The Dock over these past few weeks and the spaces which have become available in the heart of all this activity.  A minute’s walk away down the road, Dock Cafe is open for business; Tegan and Ruth and Sarah are providing cuppas and scones and comfy sofas and quiet corners and inspiring art and chillout space to a steady stream of footsore visitors and laid-back locals.

And right here at Titanic Belfast, the staff have allowed one of the little ‘booths’ right beside the building to become a Prayer Room for the weekend – more comfy chairs, more coffee, and a chance for people who have been moved by Titanic’s story to approach God through prayer or quiet.

So it feels as if all the pieces are in place.  There are spaces to encounter God.  There are timetables to mark the times and moments of 100 years ago – like the vigil here at Titanic Belfast tonight, which will mark 11:40pm with darkness, lanternlight, choral voices and names read aloud in remembrance.  (these pics are of the rehearsal last night – incredible how atmospheric Titanic Belfast is with the lights down low!)

And if you would like to be part of the commemoration, I should highlight – along with all the superb events in the Big List I printed on the blog yesterday – the service at St Anne’s Cathedral/pilgrimage walk/Drawing Offices on Sunday afternoon at 3:30pm.  It’s been an immense privilege to be part of putting all the elements of the service together, a shared effort between The Dock, St Anne’s Cathedral and Titanic Belfast.  Events will begin at the Cathedral at 3:30pm with a service containing many aspects of the service which was held there 100 years ago in the immediate aftermath of the Titanic tragedy.  Then at 4:30 we will walk from the cathedral to the Titanic Quarter (hmm, whose idea was that I wonder…?), to balance the remembrance of the past with the hope for the future we see on our city streets.  Then at 5:30pm, having reached the H&W Drawing Offices in the shadow of Titanic Belfast, we will conclude with a short service involving worship and reflections from the full ‘Shared Medley’ of traditions.

Join us at any stage for any part – or live a little, get out of your sofa on a Sunday afternoon, on this most profoundly significant weekend for our city, and join us for all three!