The Flowers of the Forest

 I'd like to apologise for the typo in the most recent issue of "Beaker Bugle - the Newsletter for the Beaker Community".

We thought it would be fun to hold a "Forest Church". We have no idea of the specifics - is the headquarters Whipsnade Tree Cathedral? And we were worried it would be a bit muddy in November. But don't we get out into the Orchard for worship at all times of the year? We thought we'd be naturals.

Then "Forest Church" got autocorrected to "Florist Church". Now the Moot House is full of helium balloons, gender reveal parties, "In Loving Memory" wreaths and waving beds of gysophila.

Not what we had in mind.

But at least we're staying warm.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I've got to get a surprise bunch of flowers across to an unsuspecting young man in Heath and Reach. These new expressions of church are nothing if not educational.

The Eve Of Canceltide

Just a note to Beaker Folk to remind you that apart from some local elections in the Good Ol' USA, today is Guy Fawkes Night and not yet Canceltide.

Canceltide will start tomorrow, as Gordon Braggington says the official Words of Cancellation: "You can't even say the word Christmas these days."

To which Doris Maurice, standing in front of the Beaker Remembrance Tribute (45 "Tommies", assorted sandbags and 100 square yards of camouflage netting decorated with red knitted flowers) will respond "And you can't even wear a poppy."

Have a happy Canceltide, those that celebrate it. I shall be too busy to join the Patriotic Beaker Folk as, dressed as St George in red and white armour, they claim you can't display an England flag any more.

Instead I shall be busy preparing for Winterfest. A non-sectarian celebration of all that is best about modern Britain. ie we'll be standing around moaning about the rain, before flying off to Lanzarote.

The Gates of Heaven

What kind of gates does heaven have in the Book of Revelation?

We don't know. Because St John doesn't tell us.

He tells us that the new Jerusalem, the perfect city, has pearly gates.

But when he tells us that, the new Jerusalem is on earth.

Trick question that I had the Jehovah's Witnesses ask me last week - they clearly walked straight past the sign saying "The Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley - The modern Cyber-Coenobitic Community" and then tried to bandy their impoverished theology around with a woman wearing an official Archdruidical hat (replica hats available in the Beaker Bazaar).

"Where do you think everyone will end up?"

And the answer they're hoping for, when addressing a middle-aged woman, is "heaven". Then they go "aha"! And tell you that's only 144,000 people and do I feel that lucky punk?

Instead of which they got 15 minutes on my theology of a totally-renewed Creation. A new heaven and a new earth. A place where hearts and minds and bodies are resurrected and healed. Where those pearly gates are always open, as it says in the good book, so anyone that wants can come in. A place where heaven has come down to earth.

A place where God walks with God's people and the water of life is pure and the tree of life is once more given to us. And God will reign and the fruit that we stole from the tree of knowledge in a mythical garden long ago will mean that we know everything is now good and we will know as we are known and love as we are loved.

And through the wars of this world and a tree of Death on which the author of life died, there will be no more death and no more war.

The Book of Revelation isn't a history book of the future. It's a promise. It says hang on. All you can see and hear now are just labour pains. But a new day is coming when the weak are strong and the poor are rich and the Prince of Peace will be with us all.

And we are called to be saints. From the greatest to the littlest, God can pick us up and say you are loved and I have great things in store for you. I can do new things you have never imagined.

So as God's loved ones, we can work to make the present world a little more like the one to come. And wait with all heaven and earth for God's promises to be fulfilled.

Another Great Samhain

Well, what a Samhain (actually pronounced "Halloween"). The community's one Scottish resident, Mary McSporran, got into an argument with our one Welsh resident, Dai the Stereotype, about which of their races invented Halloween.

The answer is, of course, it was the Roman Catholic Church. All the connections to Samhain were made up by Victorians and similar wallies. Samhain could be a day, a feast, a month, or a state of mind for all we know. And, as far as we're aware, druids never carved pumpkins.

Still, it was a fine night. In keeping with what is long tradition, many people dressed up as the scariest of all monsters - Russell Brand - although I could have done without Burton Dasset's "Brand" costume being a mask and a pair of white Y-Fronts. The sparks from the Wicker Person flew off and burned down a haystack. And Summer's End was appropriately celebrated.

Happy All Saints' Day. The Little Sisters of the Holy Herring, our enclosed order of penguins, are about to celebrate Vespers. Whatever that is.

Probably invented by the Druids like everything else.