Manly Moonshine

I tell you, this Manly Worship thing is doing my head at the moment. Straight after this morning's Pouring Out of Beakers all the men in the community headed out for an "adventure" on Aspley Heath. Not one was back by "Lauds at Lunch", our outreach where we turn the monastic timetable on its head in a "Cafe Church" kind of concept.

Half an hour ago I decided enough was enough and sent Charlii off to find them.   They were in the woods, frozen with fear, having been "cornered by a squirrel". Of course what made it worse was that, having been entertaining the "Little Pebbles" playgroup, Charlii was dressed up as a giant badger.

Marston's run screaming and is lost in the depths of the wood now. Burton's been dropped off back at the Great House and he's in the Recovery Position. I'm not sure whether it's smelling salts, a slap round the face or a bucket of water over the head he needs to bring him round. I suspect all three.

Manly Morning Worship

Today's Pouring Out of Beakers will be in the Traditional Language.

Which, given this is Manly Worship, will be Klingon.

Manly Worship

I can't tell you how much excitement I feel after this evening's "Manly Worship".

It was all Archdruid Eileen's idea. She said that if we wanted to know the sort of worship that would attract men to our Community, maybe we should let men organise the worship now and then.

Actually, thinking about it what she really said was that if we wanted to know the sort of worship that would attract men to our Community, we should reflect that it's been men organising the worship for 2,000 years. And then she said that she was taking the evening off, and a "bloke" would have to do it anyhow.

She then said that what she wanted was to see real, manly worship led by real, manly men. And that Hnaef and Young Keith weren't available, so I would have to do.

I think she meant it kindly.

And of course I have the perfect qualifications for leading manly worship. I would wager that nobody is as manly as I, as my interests are those that almost exclusively interest men:

• Train-spotting.
• Angling.
• Real ale and cider. Not just drinking these manly beverages - after all, many women do also. But women rarely have a 2GB Access database, listing every pint they have drunk since the age of 18 together with tasting notes, a rating of colour and the temperature served to within 0.1C. Only a truly manly man would do this.
• County cricket. As a dedicated follower of Northants County Cricket Club I am well-known to both the other people who watch 1st class cricket there, and who have given me the affectionate and ironic name, "Old Boring".

And so I chose some suitably manly music (which we did not sing nor dance to - merely sat there, nodding appreciatively), readings and liturgy for today's "Manly Filling-up of Beakers" ^[1]

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Manly Worship

Introit: Keith Jarrett's "Innocence" - a really spiritual concept in a piece of modern jazz. Nice.

The Greeting

Burton: Awrite, mates?
All: Awrite, Burton?

Confession

Burton: So, done anything wrong?


All may leer and, if appropriate, make inappropriate gestures.

All: Not 'arf


Burton: You old rogues.

Ice-breaker

The discussion topic tonight is "If the church were a car, what kind of car would be it?" Answers involving the colour will not be accepted.

OT Reading from the Book of Numbers - a nice example of manly categorisation and organisation, as opposed to womanly tidying. (Although personally I would have organised the tribes in alphabetical order)

A Manly Meditation

We listen to a reading of the 1923 timetable for the Cambridge to Oxford "Varsity" line, and regret that the joy of being able to get on at Husborne Crawley Station, like that of alighting at Wendlebury Halt, is no longer with us.

Team-building Activity

Sorting our CDs into order. (More obsessively manly types may use the older liturgy, or "vinyl" as we called it). Women may merely sort their collections into alphabetical order of surnames, while men may adopt surname order within genre.

The Manly Sermon

In which I will illuminate the "Sermon on the Mount" with manly reflections on manly illustrations, such as how Jesus is our Wicket-Keeper: he's always behind us and he'll never drop us. Unless, of course, he emulates M.S. Dhoni's record in the summer 2011 India tour of England.

The Peace

We exchange the "slight shrug of recognition" of peace. Any actual physical contact (except with particularly attractive younger ladies) will be regarded as a sign of unmanliness.

Offertory Hymn

A rendition of John Foxx's greatest hit - cerebral, manly music. With none of that soppy "worshipping" that is so popular.

Interactive Prayers

Burton: So, if anyone's got anything you want us to pray for out loud....?

All: No, we're fine Burton. Nothing wrong with us. You just say a nice thanksgiving. But not too thankful - we don't wanna sound needy.


A tea light may be lit. With a blowtorch.

Dismissal

Burton: Now clear off, and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

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[1] I know what you are thinking. As Young Keith made exactly that joke when he wandered in from work at the end of the service. And it's not manly, actually - that's just crude. And anyway, we don't have any shelves in the Moot House. Not that we don't know how to hang a shelf. Oh no, nothing wrong with our DIY skills. Just give us a drill, a HB pencil, a screwdriver and a spirit-level and we're your men.

Making Church Harder for Men

I note David Keen's article referencing the theory that Church is too easy for men. Which saddens me as I like to think that, through providing endless opportunities to light tea lights or dabble with scented oils, and endlessly talking about our inner feelings, we make it hard enough for them already.

So we're introducing a new and rigorous programme for the men in the Beaker Folk. When walking down the "corridor of uncertainty" between the Great House and Moot House, they will in future be sprayed with ice cold water from the corridor walls. If any man is caught looking bored during a sermon, I will lob a conker at them. And we've rigged the television schedule so that, whenever there is a football match on, instead we will be re-showing a DVD of "Truly, Madly, Deeply".

I'm not sure exactly how this is going to help us in our mission to men, but I'm willing to give it a try.

Female Priests in the Roman Catholic Church

Rita posts on a woman at her church "squirming and struggling" when the priest said the priesthood was for men.

Well, yes.

My money is on the Apocalypse occuring in HD and Surround-sound, in a carbon copy of Drayton Parslow's dreamiest dreams, before the Roman Catholic Church ordained a woman priest. The woman in the row in front of Rita will die frustrated if she continues in (a) her beliefs and (b) her church. My sympathy is with her, but it ain't gonna happen. This is not like the Church of England, where things are constantly under negotiation. Nor the Methodists, where they can't see what all the fuss is about - having had female ministers for decades, who are just as good at the job as men. Nor the Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley, where it's male archdruids that will never happen - men being the unstable, emotionally-inarticulate creatures that they are, bless them.

I'd suggest the woman concerned needs to change her denomination, or her views, or just lump it. Squirming's no real way forward.

Holding hands in a circle

I've had some more complaints from people - mostly men, I have to say - complaining about our "Blessing Circle" tradition of holding hands in a circle and exchanging holy looks of blessing at the ends of ceremonies.
The men say that it's not very manly. Which is, of course, exactly the point. If we had the men in the community going round being manly, what sort of place would it be? Not very holy, that's my point.

I've also had complaints about the Blessing Circle from Agila. She's convinced that Ardwulf is making sure he stands next to her every time a ceremony draws to an end. So now she skips round to the other side of Drayton (if he's considered the occasion to be sufficiently un-pagan), then realises her mistake and goes to stand between myself and Daphne Hnaef. I tell you, sometimes the end of our ceremonies can be more like a country dance than the still, silent centre of the bustling cosmos that they're supposed to be.

But I'm still not abolishing the process. If you're that concerned about bodily contact you can wear gloves. If you want to avoid eye contact, put on dark glasses. And if you're concerned that we're dragging your testosterone levels down, then just remember it's for your own good.  That is all.