Newly abolished words

In honour of George Orwell's birthday I'm doubleplusunsad to announce the following abolishments of words and phrases, and their replacements. 


"Unhappy" to be replaced with "challenged", "differently inspired" or "fine".


"Dreadful" to be replaced by "Truly meaningful" (as in "that's a truly meaningful worship song you've just written, Agnes".


"When there are women bishops" to be replaced, yet again, by "if there are women bishops".  This may be reversed again on Orwell's 110th birthday.


"Moaning whingers who just look for things to complain about" to be replaced with "loyal members of the fellowship". But you know what we really mean.


"Worship leaders" was replaced last year by "lead worshippers". This year we're gonna lose them both. We're not replacing them with a new word. We're just gonna drive out into Cambridgeshire somewhere and lose them.


"Leadership" to be replaced by "Enablement". Going against the principles of Newspeak, this won't make any difference to how we think and act, but it just feels less patriarchal, don't you think?


"People who are praying for you" to be replaced by "friends".


"We just really" to be abolished, with no replacement.


"Why can't your preaching be more inspiring, like at Spring Harvest?" To be replaced by "why can't the congregation be more inspiring, like at Spring Harvest?"


"Liturgical Dance" to be replaced by "Prancing Around".


"Modern Liturgical Styles" to be replaced by "Hippy Nonsense".

"Sunday School" to be replaced by "Sunday Club" to be replaced by "Younger Church" to be replaced by "That empty room next to the kitchen".

"Finally" to be replaced with "Just twenty minutes to go."

Finding God Where You Aren't

And so, once again this morning, my peace was shattered as Drayton Parslow's "Baptibus" headed off to parts unknown beyond Olney and Northampton. It takes its grand circular journey, collecting people whom Drayton has evangelised with the promise of a free trip and biscuits - oh, and the Gospel, of course. Though it's the holes in his exhaust that cause me most grief, at 7am of the typical Sunday.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm as big a fan of pilgrimage as the next medium-sized religious community leader. Or even the next leader of a medium-sized religious community. Walsingham, St Albans, the Rollright Stones, Thomas Hardy's Birthplace, Compo's Grave - I've been to them all. But I don't go to them every week. That would be odd. We go to these places to breath the sacred air; to connect; to buy tacky souvenirs. (Did you know you can get a St Alban drinks coaster? That's always seemed wrong to me, putting your coffee mug on a saint's face like that). Except at the Rollrights, of course. Where the hut keeps disappearing. Not a miracle - more vandalism.

But the point of going these special places is that it's special. We regard them, if we are of that tendency, as "thin". And we envy those whose role it is to mind them.

Whereas taking a long journey every week, to go to a specific congregation because it's the one we like - that seems odd. Sure, if it's one's family church and it's part of the weekly familial visit then I can see that. But is the Gospel so much better proclaimed by Drayton that they'll sit in that rusty death-trap for an hour to hear it? Are there no prophets in Buckingham, that Sid the minibus driver has to go all the way out there on his rounds? Why travel from Luton - which is full of places of worship - all the way out here, because Drayton's brand of Creationism says the world started on a Sunday in August rather than, as some heretics claim, March? I don't get it.

It's not like the evangelicals of the world think these are proper "thin places". They have been known to go specific places to where the Spirit is working. But why would the Holy Spirit decide she's going to act more evidently around one area then anywhere else? Or, given God's sovereignty, why would we make the assumption that, if she did, she'll keep that up when we arrive? Maybe it's us blighting the spiritual atmosphere in the place where we live, and deciding we're going to rock up with hope in our heart and a well-worn version of the NIV might be just the thing required for the Wind to "blow where it will" somewhere completely different.

So I'll be out next Saturday night, helping God to work his wonders right where people live. Or, to put it another way, I'm gonna stick a potato in the exhaust pipe of the Baptibus. I need the peace.

Reverent Disposal

I noticed this advice on dealing with worn-out missals this morning. It is an interesting thought - that things we invest much in, when they are beyond use, require disposal. Of the printing of different translations of the Bible there is no end, and when, at the end of some (normally evangelical) life we discover that the dear departed has collected about 130 Bibles, many of them falling apart from age - what do we do? Although we are not bibliolaters (if that is even a word), we may feel a certain reluctance to dispose of precious things. His Hermeneuticalness's suggestion of reverent recycling seems very sound. While our own method of dealing with the mountains of laser-printed service sheets that get produced every day - i.e. storing them up then burning them - is equally good for the environment.

After our experiences with the Hamster of Atonement, we have avoided the re-use of any worship-related material in animal bedding. In the case of poor old Rubbles, it was having bedding made entirely of shredded paper with sins written on it that upset him - causing him to become remarkably shifty and unfriendly before his brief career as an investment banker - but I'd be very wary of the impact of using shredded service sheets of any kind in future. After all, use the remnants of the Julian service we held the other week, and the new Community Hamster, Wiggy, might find she's got ideas buzzing in her head that her little brain can't cope with. Certainly I couldn't - especially when the "thing the size of a hazelnut" that got handed round turned out to be a pistachio. It wasn't the small size and fragility of the world I couldn't get my head round - it was the massive crack in the shell that worried me. Has the state of the environment really descended so far?

For more permanent objects used in praise and worship - hymnbooks and the like - most British churches recommend that, when they're worn out or hopelessly outdated, the best thing to do is send them to a church in Africa. This has the advantage of clearing our conscience and moving the problem to another country. What the African Church is doing with the wave of copies of Sounds of Living Water that must currently be breaking across the continent is another question. But thankfully it's their question. Drayton Parslow tells me that he has sent all the worn-out King James Versions in the Bogwulf Chapel (and the copies of the 1549 Book of Common Prayer he found in a cupboard) to a small village in Burma. There are rumours that when he sent a group from his church out on a mission visit, they discovered an entire community in the jungle speaking 16th-century English.

There is also the reverse process. This is where an item formerly used for commonplace household purposes - such as a sofa, or an old non-digital telly - is to be replaced by a new one. Recognising the sanctity that this object has acquired through long use, people often donate them for either the Church or Manse. Sometimes, bundles of newspapers can be donated "in case the Sunday School wants to make papier-mâché". In the Extremely Primitive Methodists chapel that I grew up in, this practice grew to such proportions that the minister had to build an extension just to keep all the old armchairs and bookshelves he'd been donated. And it became a squeeze getting into the chapel on a Sunday morning, because of the piles of chairs and tables laying round the place. On the bright side, since the Extremely Primitive Methodists eschewed all unnatural forms of heating, on cold winter mornings we used to burn the furniture to keep warm.

Finally, I'd like to observe that there actually appear to be laws in the US on how to dispose of their national flag. The site I found this on has an ironic side - the text itself is very respectful, while the adverts in the side-bar are for a series of waste-disposal companies. I like to think this is why America exists - to combine solemn patriotism with the profit motive.

Random Hugs and Thumped Mugs

I was aghast at Revd Claire's blogpost on Random Hugs.

Of course, in this modern touchy-feely world, hugging is just another of those "informal" things - like holding hands during the final blessing. In theory I'm fine with this - it breaks down barriers, gives one a feeling of solidarity, and generally puts off the kind of blokes who might be overly possessed of testosterone.

But on this occasion, I'm with Revd Claire. I remember last time somebody tried to hug me during the Beaker "Snog of Peace". He's never played the piano since. These days I avoid this sort of unpleasantness by wearing the hi-viz with the special message written on the front - "Please do not hug me uninvited, as a smack in the mouth often offends".

Marriage - some other definitions

An institution...

.... used by Charles II so his mistresses' husbands could bring up his children.

.... which people in rural Bedfordshire used in the early 20th century, once they'd proven they were fertile (though sometimes they'd have three or four kids first, just to be sure).

.... ordained by Edward the Confessor and his wife to avoid having sex with anyone.

.... which the rich could have annulled while the poor could put up with it.

.... which would have little meaning to bees. Don't know why I mention this, it just struck me.

.... which the South Africans had to redefine to allow black people to marry white ones.

.... although some American states weren't too far ahead.

.... which Henry VIII didn't redefine at all - he merely had a row over the terms of an annulment.

..... which is crying out for a decent definition, dependent neither on Natural Law arguments nor on the emotions generated by Richard Curtis films. A definition that is reached slowly, carefully and sensibly.

Trouble at the Naming Ceremony

I know I broke with convention. I disregarded Rule 37 from the Big Book of Beaker Rules. But I feel I was justified at this morning's naming service.

Merlot Gehenna Cerise is not a suitable set of first  names. Whatever his parents may have thought. I'm sure little Bradley will thank me when he's older.

Reality Check

Young Keith really very grumpy with me today.

He claims I'm unduly biased against Charlii, the Trainee Druid, with whom he is an "item". Not at all. I think Charlii is a diligent, hard-working trainee. She does suffer from rashes from time to time, but I can't blame her for that and it makes her in no way less of a decent human being. Not least because they're probably allergic reactions to the squirrel costume she has to wear as part of her responsibilities in children's work.

I tried to explain to Keith - he's a good lad - a promising young man. He's got a comfortable house, living with his uncle Ben Connolly, the Police Officer. And he has the potential for a good life. But if he marries a Beaker Druid, there's going to be hard times. Charlii's not going to progress too far if she stays here - or at least she will over my dead body - so she'll be moving to pastures new. And constantly having to be an outsider in your own community, being the bluff host when it's the other half who's the boss - it's not easy. Your house isn't your own - well, mine isn't. But then, on the bright side, I do rent it out to the Community at a very lucrative rate. And then I'm afraid that, in these still-discriminatory times, there's still that implied question - if you're the husband of the Druid, then what's the matter with you? Who wears the pointy hat in your house?

Young Keith has suggested I'm getting a bit ahead of things here, and maybe he's right. I just wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. Young Keith's a lively, intelligent lad. I really wouldn't want him to be in a situation where he can't let off giant fireworks, fall head-first into a ditch while tipsy or or accidentally burn down the local Doily Shed while carrying out an experiment into hydrogen fusion, just because it might embarrass his wife.

Talking During Worship

I first noticed this phenomenon many years ago in a Methodist chapel near Milton Keynes. Chatting during a service. I'm not talking about whispering furtively at the back.Two people just broke off from paying attention and started talking loudly about a young female villager who was "no better than she should be." During the reading of the Gospel. With only twelve people in the congregation.

And I fell to wondering what to do about it. I believe the more mainstream denominations suffer from this most with people who've received communion, while others who've received. It can't be great, kneeling to receive Our Lord's gift to us while in the background you can here Elsie talking about her rheumatics, or Brian spelling out how many pints he had last night.

And we have the same problem during our more sacred moments. Lifting the Great Tea Light for all to wonder at the dancing flame the other day, I heard "So I've tried TCP but I might need to try that Arsenal instead." Distracting, irreverent and possibly dangerous.

So we've been experimenting with some possibilities. One is getting the Beaker Band to play so loudly that nobody can hold a conversation. But this can only work during moments of silence.

Or there's the "naming and taming (but not shaming)" method. This is where the leader stops the whole thing, points at the chatterers and accuses them of possessing a spirit of gossip. Ideally at this point a few big blokes will remove the people with a yacking problem and remove them to a soundproof booth to await the arrival of the local exorcist.

Then there's the possibility of wiring sound-detectors  into the sprinkler system, and dumping a gallon of water on the offenders. Of course, when we tried this we ran into a problem during the "cream cracker service". It's no fun as it is getting a dry cracker sticking to the back of your throat. But getting a bucket of water over your head when you try to attract help is adding insult to injury.

But in the end, you can't beat fitting ejector seats. Any gossip goes on these days, we just deposit the offenders in the field outside. One of these days we really must fit a retracting roof - it's costing us a fortune in tiles and plaster.

Priests and Parishes™

Congratulations on buying your Priests and Parishes™ Role-Playing Game!

In the 1980s, before we discovered there were more serious things to worry about, there were many claims that Role-Playing Games were satanic, and that playing them led straight to the fiery maw of the Dark One.

While most Christian leaders were content merely to condemn Gary Gygax and all his works, one group decided to produce a rival, radical and exciting faith-community based game. Unfortunately they were in the Church of England, so it's taken 30 years to get it through the Committee stage. But here it is - a new and exciting chance to enter into adventure in the world of Pee-Cee-Cee, where monsters stalk every corridor.

Don't forget there's a range of add-on accessories you can buy - the "Church Warden's Manual" will give you the full instructions on how to play Advanced Priests and Parishes™, which is just like the basic version but costs more.

But enough of the sales spiel - let's get on and play!

Rolling your Character

You must throw two dice 10 times. Write down each number against the attributes on your Player Card™.  These attributes decide what player type you can choose:


Bell-Ringers must score at least six or more in Strength, Stamina and Ale-drinking.


Organists need to score six or more in Sitting in Draughts, Perseverance and Unsettling the Vicar.


Ministers should ideally have high scores in all categories. At least that's what it says in the Parish Profile. However these types of characters are only actually available in the special module, Imaginary Priests and Parishes. Note that advancement to greater levels depends upon your character's race, denomination and gender - British Methodists and British Women.are not allowed to be raised to "Bishop".


Evangelists should have high scores in Listening to People and Caring. Failing that, a score of 12 in Shouting will probably do.


Sunday School Teachers need higher scores than Ministers. But don't think anyone will notice.


Barrack-Room Lawyers have high levels of Sincerity, Cunning and Intelligence, but normally low scores for Loyalty and Empathy. Their special powers include Total Confusion, All-Out War and Writing to the Bishop.


Worship Group Leaders need high scores in Charisma and Tunefulness. Their special powers include Segue and Train-Wreck. 


Flower-Arrangers These characters are the most feared of all in Priests and Parishes™.  Lethal with a bowl of petunias, and possessors of the Dangerous Lily Pollen of Allergy.


Stewards Again, this player type's powers advance differently with different denominations. In the Methodists they can get as far as "Circuit Steward", which is like a sheriff but without the badge.


Treasurers have the job of accumulating Gold Pieces and uncovering secret stashes of treasure. They normally fail.

Special Powers

These are powers that all players can use during the course of the game, although their effectiveness will vary according to the player-character's attributes.


Throwing a Wobbly - Wobblies can be particularly effective in Church Meetings. However if a player attempts to throw one during Worship Time, then the Church Warden or Chief Steward has powers of Removal from the Premises. The effects of a Wobbly can also be cancelled by the Minister employing the powers of Caving-in, or alternatively Bluster.


Swimming the Tiber - This can be used by Priests or People, although Priests get +5 for publicity. Swimming the Tiber is reversible, although we suspect it can only be used once.


Titheing - This power is defunct in Advanced Priests and Parishes™ since very few were using it.


Back-Stabbing Shouldn't really be a skill needed in this game.


Mentioning Jesus - this is not allowed in Church meetings as it may dissolve the State of Unknowing which causes all members of committees to forget why they are there. The "God told me..." power is allowed, as nobody really believes it.

New Scenarios

So now you've a character rolled up, very few gold pieces and a hole in your roof, it's time to get down to the Beaker Bazaar or your local World of Worshipcraft, and buy one of these great modules:


J1 - The Jumble Sale: this starter module will introduce you to back-biting, gossip and claiming things are "Mission", as well as the raising of very small numbers of gold pieces.


S1 - Deanery synod of Doom
S2 - Diocesan Synod of Doom
S3 - General Synod of Doom
- the "Synod of Doom" series is strictly for students, retired people and similar people with lots of spare time.


A1 - The Anthem - you are on a race against time to stop the Methodist Choir from singing the "Anthem". Can you remove the powers from the Organist before the deadly power of Vibrato removes the Will to Live from the congregation?


C1 - Revenge of the Deanery Chapter - will you ever discover what the secretive and elusive "Chapter" does? (Ans - probably not)


H1 - In search of Socinus - a member of the Local Preacher's Meeting is suspected of thinking Jesus is "just a bloke". By charging round the Circuit, you must detect and eliminate the "rogue preacher". Your ability to withstand Bad Coffee and your Standing in Draughts powers will be stretched as never before.

B1 - The Bald and the Beautiful - why are radiant heaters being placed on the ceilings of chapels? Is it just an attempt to irradiate bald people?

Advice on All-Age Services

Sometimes it's good to share your experiences. For example, any young and/or inexperienced preacher, first setting out on life, might benefit from the words of advice that a seasoned worship leader can provide. And today I thought I'd let you have the benefit of my advice on the leading of All-Age Worship. If you've just received your first invitation to lead such a service, or you've just volunteered to start one up when the vicar's away/at the other church/moved on/dead, these are the things you need to know.

Run and hide. This is the best advice I can give you. If you heed this advice, you won't need to read any further. However if you don't, read on. And may God have mercy on your self-esteem.


Don't call it a "Family Service". Very important, this. There are people in your church - and you probably know who they are - who are professionally engaged in being offended on the behalf of others. The term "Family Service" will always set their antennae twitching and they will ask what you have against people that don't live in a traditional family. By the time that you've explained that everybody is part of God's Family (in which case, one might ask, why does one need a special service?) you might as well give up and just call it All-Age.

Don't call it a "Children's Service".  No adults will turn up - as clearly it's not for them - and no children will turn up - as they'll expect to be patronised.

Children are like Amazonian frogs. The smaller ones are often surprisingly deadly.

Aim your talk at the average theological competence of a 10-year-old. And some of the adults might know what you're talking about, for a change.

Don't use Flannelgraph. Not unless you live in 1952, or Devon. If you don't know what Flannelgraph is, don't even Google it. Frankly, just forget I even mentioned it.

Don't use crude literalism - such as implying that God lives in space, or heaven is on a cloud. Save that for when you're preaching to the adults.

Don't use Powerpoint unless you can use Powerpoint. There's nothing worse for a congregation than spending an hour or so looking at the back of the leader's head, while s/he reads off a screen. Depending on the leader's face, obviously.

There's a time limit on asking the congregation what's going to happen in a couple of weeks / just happened when it's Christmas.  By the time you reach Easter, you should barely mention Christmas at all.

Don't use any of the readings in Acts that mention Circumcision. It only takes one voice from the floor to ask "what's that, then?" and you're going to have a tough time no matter what you do.

Avoid any mention of  Biblical Criticism. Let's face it, you only get it wrong and embarrass yourself when you've only got adults in the congregation. The last thing you want is any children ridiculing the half-baked ideas you only partly digested on your preaching course.

Don't dress up as a Clown. Look, I know you've registered all that stuff about being "fools for Christ." But you wouldn't arrange a funeral with a hearse where the wheels fell off, would you? No matter how informal you want to be, you're meant to be helping people to touch the infinite, and dressing as Coco is not going to help. There's about two people in the world that can carry it off, and you're neither of them. And besides, clowns terrify me.

Don't throw in references to "Snoop Dogg" or "Grandmaster Flash". You won't show you're down with the kids.

Make sure that there will actually be children. I remember the day a visiting preacher turned up at our old Extremely Primitive Methodist Church to discover that all the children had gone away to camp on the weekend of the All Age service. The sight of a score of octogenarians doing the actions to "If I were a butterfly" will live for me forever.

Don't quote Karl Barth in the original. Some children learn real German at school, and may correct your translation or accent.

Children can be surprisingly good with silence, and contemplative aids such as icons. But be careful - they can terrify the adults. Especially the silence. Scary stuff, silence. You never know what you might hear.

Making an Entrance

I have been doing some analysis, Dear Readers, of the things that we can learn from the time people turn up to morning worship and the things they do. You've probably noticed that, on the whole, the same people arrive at the same time (or at least you have noticed that if, like me, you're the "head counter", and therefore deem it your role to be the first person to arrive, to count everyone in). It is very much a "work in progress" (and therefore cannot yet be capitalised and written off over five years, which is what I will be aiming for when it is complete), but this is my analysis so far.

For those of you who arrive at precisely one minute after the service starts, I hope this will fill in the details of the preparation that have been going on since when you were still in bed.

---

T-60 - The head counter, the Person who Unlocks.

T-50 - In fellowships that meet in schools, the Chair Putter-Outers. If there is a Music Group, they will all turn up with the exception of one key person - normally the keyboard player or vocalist.  If a choir, the Organist will arrive, and start complaining that the choir is late.

T-45 the Sunday Club leaders arrive, and start to strap on their protective clothing

T-40 - People with other jobs to do: Book Issuers; Table Arrangers (who should have done it yesterday, really, but were busy with other things); The Church Wardens, Stewards, Deacons or other generally "in charge of godly order" type people - unless they are also Unlockers. People who want to impress the minister by being keen.

T-35 - The person who fills up and switches on the Tea Urn does so. If cups and saucers are to be put out on a trestle table at the back, this may be done now, or else during the latter part of the sermon.

T-30 - Nobody actually arrives at this point, but everybody will start to worry that the worship leader / visiting Preacher / minister isn't going to turn up this week. People will remember the time in 1978 when Old Reverend Methuselah was snowed in.

T-29 - The minister / visiting preacher arrives. Everybody says, with literal accuracy, "For a minute there we thought you weren't going to turn up." The spare Local Preacher / Reader / Warden / Steward growls inwardly, and puts away their special "Emergency Sermon".

T-25 - The Sunday Club leaders finish putting on their protective clothing

T-20 - In the Church of England, the Sidespeople arrive. Since nobody knows what they do, this isn't really important.

T-15 - The older folk who like a chat before the service. Those of an Anglo-Catholic persuasion will normally have this chat while standing next to the sign that says "Talk to God before Mass, and each other afterwards".

T-10 - The last member of the music group / choir arrives. There will be some convoluted reason why they're so late - there always is.

T-8 - In an Anglo-Catholic church, the priest puts on all the clobber so as to be able to stand around prayerfully for a while.

T-5 - The Sunday Club leaders start to think that no children are coming this week.

T-3 - In churches of a more Protestant nature, the Chief Steward or similar will appear out of the vestry, ostensibly to do something like bring the Bible out, or put a glass of water on the ledge in the pulpit. Nobody knows why this can't happen earlier.

T-2 - All the families arrive. At least, all the families without small children. The Sunday Club leaders adopt the "crash" position.

T-1 - In churches of an Anglo-Catholic persuasion, the Priest remembers something important s/he has left in the main building, has to take off all the tat, rush into the church, bow in many directions, grab the missing item, bow in many directions, rush out and put all the tat back on.

T0 - The grand entrance, procession or whatever may take place. In churches of a more dramatic nature, the minister may spring up through a trap door, abseil from the balcony or appear in a flash of smoke.

T+5 The families with small children arrive halfway through the first hymn. The other members of the congregation will tut, and wonder why they can't get there on time. They have forgotten, or else do not know. what it is like to have small children.

T+10 The person who always leaves it to the last minute sneaks in. They may reflect that they need to re-visit the concept of "last minute".

T+30 The person who is secretly test-driving a different congregation with an earlier service turns up, having legged it out from the other place during the last hymn. They will look smug and yet guilty at the same time, as befits one who is better than this place.

T+60 On one Sunday a year, the people who forgot to put their clocks forward arrive. They will join in the last hymn, assuming it's the first, and then wonder why the leader is pronouncing a closing blessing.

And the Last will be First

I feel I need to issue a bit of a clarification - people seem to think I expect special treatment because I'm Archdruid, and I want to clear things up.

Just because I get to wear the pointy hat, and the special robes, and just because I get to sit in the Archdruid's Special Comfy Beanbag in the Moot House, and expect everyone to make the Beaker sign of obedience as I walk past, doesn't mean I think I'm anything special.

Likewise, the ringing of a special bell before I talk, and the way I get to stand in the Archdruid's Pulpit (except when I decide I woud be more post-modernly "hip" wandering about (tracked by the Archdruid's spotlight) while I share my pearls of wisdom in that deceptive manner that looks like I just thought of them) - that's not because there's anything wrong with the "Pulpit for Other Ranks".

And yes, that is a very big poster with my face on it, behind the Archdruid's Sermon DVDs and the collected sermon books and the copies of "100 Brilliant Thoughts from Archdruid Eileen", and "89 Further Brilliant Thoughts from Archdruid Eileen" (I'll be honest, I was struggling with the sequel - you could call it the "difficult second album syndrome" striking).

And yes, Young Keith is working hard on archdruideileen.net, where people will be able to download my sermons (with suitable advertising embedded) or ask me to say a special prayer for them, and there is a section called "Just How Great is Eileen?". And the Sermon Scoring Section, where you can rate my sermons as "Wesley", "Whitefield", "Lloyd Jones" or merely "Spurgeon".

And it's true, I do get to eat at the head of Top Table in the evenings.

But none of this is because I want anyone to think I'm in any way special. No, it's because as a leader, I'm called especially to be a servant. And so the only reason we have all this attention being directed towards me, is to see what a fantastic servant I'm being.

St Android's Day

A slight surprise at this evening's Filling up of Beakers. Feeling like a bit of a snooze, I sent the Android Archdruid off to take the service.

Imagine my surprise when I nipped down looking for some milk from the kitchen, assuming everyone was still safely out in the Orchard. I discovered Hnaef grabbing a handful of tea-bags. Drawing myself up to my full height (about 5'3") I looked him firmly in the chest and reminded him of his duty, as Executive Arch-Assistant Druid, to be at all acts of worship that weren't ridiculously embarrassing. He looked a little embarrassed, and confessed that Young Keith had knocked him up a Robotic Hnaef, which attends services when he, the real Hnaef, doesn't feel like it. Hnaef's argument, that trying to put a happy face on all the time is a bit wearing when real life throws lemons at you, and that therefore it's for the good of the Beaker People that he sends a robotic substitute, seemed terrifyingly like my own argument. So I told him off, but not too much.

Not in My Name

In the light of the latest set of complaining and alleging persecution of Christians (in the UK, I mean, while Christians in the Middle East and Africa really are being persecuted), I've decided it's time to update my list of the various groups and people that don't speak for me.

Former Archbishop Carey

Anglican "Mainstream"

Drayton Parslow

The Daily Mail

Anne Widdecombe

Bono

Westboro Baptist Church

That Dot Cotton off the Eastenders

The advert on the Clapham omnibus

Kenny Dalglish (unless he's saying something along the lines of "we're glad we won and the lads done well" or "we're sick as parrots but good luck to Everton")

Harold Camping

Anyone claiming they can help people be post-gay, ex-gay, recovering gay, off-gay or near-gay. Or gay, for that matter.

Any members of the Stewartby Guinea-pig Worshippers

Polly Toynbee

Anybody at all, really. It's safer that way.

Basically, is it OK if I speak for me? And, obviously, the other Beaker Folk worldwide whom I represent, whether they realise it or not.

Tidying up the Friendship List

It's sometimes a fraught job, is getting the membership list of a faith community neat and tidy.
Where other faitth communities have Class Lists, Parish Meetings, Electoral Rolls or whatever, the Beaker Folk have the Friendship List.

The way I like to look at this is like this - the Church of England Electoral Roll is a list of names of people who at some point in the last 7 years may have worshipped in the parish in question. Every now and then they re-do the list, and if everybody on the list has either died or moved away, the vicar can understand why the church.has been so quiet quiet lately. The people on the Electoral Roll have the important responsibility of turning up at the Annual Meeting and agreeing that, since the number of candidates for the PCC is fewer than the number of vacancies, they might as well all be elected.

The Friendship List has nothing like this kind of power. As the name suggests, we want Beaker membership to be about friendship. And nothing works against friendship so much as giving people votes, which they might use in an unfriendly way by voting against me. That's why,regrettably, I have to ensure that the Moot is strictly advisory and the Druid's Synod made up entirely of ex-officio members.

The Friendship List has to be renewed every 17 months, and I've had the sad job of removing Olphin and Gormwell. When Gormwell died, he left instructions that he wanted his remains to be fired into space in a rocket. Which was fair enough and we were happy to oblige. But Olphin left the Moot House when we insisted Gormwell be cremated first. I mean, fair's fair. Young Keith had built the rocket and everything, but with the price of petrol as it is there's no way we could have afforded that payload.

And then there's Joffrey. I've not actually seen him at worship for a few months, but I'm hoping he's OK. And the standing orders keep being paid, so I'm guessing there's still money in his account. I've arranged for his room to be sealed up just in case. I wouldn't like anyone going in there.

All the new Folk have been invited to sign up for the Friendship List, and you'd be amazed at the suspicion it's generating. "Will it cost?" They ask me. To which I respond, "Yes of course. Anything of value costs. We are flitting creatures of dust, sparkling for a moment in a sunbeam. Time is precious, and love hurts. Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little." And eventually they stump up, to stop the flow of platititudes.

So the Friendship List is up to date, and I find we have 58 people officially in the Beaker community. Unless you discount Joffrey. And the word "discount" makes me wonder. Should I start a Junior Friendship list? Half-price and you get a cuddly toy? It should give young people more of a stake in community, and give the coffers a well-needed boost. And I'd have something to do with all those cuddly George Galloway dolls.

The Island of Sans Surplice

It is almost a thing of myth and wonder - where do clergy go on Easter Monday and Boxing Day, whence they do not return for a week?

For it is a fact beyond doubt, Gentle Reader, that they do indeed disappear. Like the dolphins and the bees, the unicorns or Tolkien's elves, they depart from sight if not from mind - but where to?

I remember a Dave Walker cartoon, long and merry ago, that showed a bunker under the Parochial House, manse or vicarage, where the vicar hid on days off. And certainly among those clergy who won't brazen it out and just admit they never really take their days off, off, there is a group that will pull the blinds down and watch Jeremy Kyle with the headphones on (the clergy, not Jeremy Kyle, with the headphones).

But a full week of skulking in such a manner would surely try the souls of the hardiest of sabbath-needing clergyfolk. And so they do have to go away. And yet, like Santa, nobody ever sees them come or go for their weeks off after Easter and Xmas.

This is because, within every clergy house, there is a clergy wardrobe. And within the wardrobe there is a portal to a wormhole in space. And that wormhole leads to the island of Sans Surplice.

And what a place is Sans Surplice. The Moltmann bird gaily shows off its plumage as it sits among the swaying arms of the Brueggemann Tree. The tides are always gentle, as the Sea of Sermons washes up the Platitudinous Beach (although skinny-dipping has been disallowed since the introduction of female clergy). It is a place where no phone rings, no emails can be received, no door can be banged at six in the morning by a parishioner concerned that s/he does not understand the fourth of the 39 Articles or has not read all of Wesley's sermons. A member of the clergy can relax, knowing that no constraints will be made on her/his time; that there are no assemblies full of children who are practising for the London 2018 Riots, that there are no minutes to approve or people with slight coughs wondering why they've not received a visit yet. They can take it easy, flying their favourite theological kite or maybe going for a spin on their Pastoral Cycle.

Most clergy last about half a day. Then they're back through the wormhole, in the front room with the curtains closed, checking their emails and going through the answerphone messages. But they're ever so pleased to have had the break. Recharges the batteries a treat, does the island of Sans Surplice.

Committees

It was Eileen who asked me to carry out an audit on the governance of the Beaker Folk. "Burton," she said, "don't we have a few too many committees?

Naturally I rushed off to draw a diagram. And I have listed below the current Beaker committee structure.

A few things spring to mind. The first is that we can see the source of much aggravation between the various sub-committees within the Beaker committee structure. To take just one example - where do we draw the line between a barbecue (social) and a bonfire (worship)? If potatoes are roasted on the bonfire, does that make it a barbecue? It may sound like a pedantic point but these fine details have caused punch-ups in the past as everyone tries to establish where the boundaries lie.

We did experiment with some combined sub-committees - a group that combined members of the Little Pebbles management group, and the All Age planning sub-committee, for example. However in that instance it turned out that the members of both groups were the same - so we struggled to understand who was speaking in which capacity. Likewise, the Bingo and Flower Arranging groups are identical in membership - so they have to wear different hats so they remember what they're supposed to talk about.

In summary, we now have enough committees to ensure that anyone who really wanted to, could go to a meeting every day for a month. So I have reported back to Archdruid that yes, we do indeed have enough committees.

The Colour of Magic

It is a great joy to me, lifting my heart and causing my soul to skip like unto the hills of the psalm, whenever I see new converts flocking unto this little Zion, O my brothers and suitably-instructed sisters. And especially so when they have been gathered from the godless and self-obsessed Beaker Folk next door.

And yet today although I welcomed Quizling and Torquil into the house of the Lord, which is to say the Bogwulf Baptist Chapel, for initial instruction after their abrupt conversion, there is something that seems not right unto my heart.

This is the first time I have ever had two people arrive at the manse door, each with a pot of paint stuck on their heads - blue for Torquil, and green for Quizling. I still do not understand the full details - and they were, after all, still spitting out paint after I removed the pots - although I gather the so-called Archdruid was behind it. For apparently she chose "MacNeil" - at which my two new brethren asked what was wrong with "Munro". I have no idea what this means, and can get no more sense from them.  I can only hope they are not the names of two of the darker spirits that I may have to cast out. This is what happens when we start to dabble with strange powers.

Painting the Door - Latest

Yet more door-related misery.

Quizling tells me that he represents a number of people who really wanted the Moot House door painted green, but lack the confidence to say.

Interestingly if I add up all the silent people that Quizling claims to be standing for, and those for whom Torquil is the mouthpiece, it comes to more than the number of people that actually belong to the community. I'm starting to think that maybe the two of them are merely trying to increase their own standing, and don't represent "Silent Majorities" at all.

In any case, to restore peace, I'm going for a compromise.

Behind the Green Door

A real coolness this morning at breakfast. Torquil is really unhappy about the "green door" decision. He sat there breaking his toast into tiny pieces and muttering that the treatment of the Cathars was only marginally worse. And he said that certain people - certain people with pointy hats - are out of touch with what the ordinary Beaker person in the Moot is thinking. That we are not - whatever we claim - all in it together.

Or so I'm told. I was in my suite of rooms having breakfast alone. I find I function better if I don't have to hear the clatter and chatter first thing. And I'm allergic to cheap coffee and "value" bread.