Barnabas the Encourager

Looking up from his ePiscopal app, Hnaef informed me over breakfast this morning that it's the feastday of Joses aka Barnabas, the Son of Encouragement. He rather pointedly points out that Barnabas was known for his generosity, for binding up the broken-hearted and taking pity on the losers. In particular, consider his treatment of John Mark. Paul, an apostle who had a more reasonable attitude to this type of waste of space, wanted to leave him. But Barnabas stuck with him while Paul pushed on, presumably rejoicing from the reduction in drag.

At which point Burton butted in, showing a lack of social skills and theological knowledge that would be astounding if that wouldn't make Burton interesting. Burton stated that if Barnabas had displayed the same level of encouragement that I do, we would today only have three Gospels.

Well, how to start picking the bones out of that? With the concept of "canon", the whole Marcan priority / "Q" theories, or else demanding to know what he meant by saying that I'm not encouraging? So I hit him with the bread-board. Leaving Hnaef to bind up the broken-headed, I came away to my office to work out the new Beaker Encouragement Policy. Which I have outlined below. Let's hear Burton claim I'm not encouraging now.

1. No member of the Community is to say anything derogatory about any other member of the Community. Unless it's justified.

2. All Beaker People to go around giggling and skipping like schoolgirls on a trip to see a pony. Unless they're not feeling that cheerful.

3. The punishment for suggesting we sing "Brother, Sister let me Serve You" to be commuted to life imprisonment without parole.

4. Anyone pointing out another Beaker person's character flaws must preface their criticism with an unrelated piece of praise, and the word "but".

5. All attendees at Moot House occasions to listen to music on their headphones, and tell the Beaker Quire afterwards that "the music was lovely". It may not be quite true but at least it's encouraging.

6. The words "div", "wally" and "idiot" (and all related concepts that I can't even print) to be replaced by the phrase "misunderstood genius". As in "did you see Marston trying to play the bagpipes? What a misunderstood genius."

7. Everyone to greet everyone else with "How can I help you?" And replace "goodbye" with "missing you already".

8. If anyone has been truly, sincerely and unfeignedly encouraging, the encouragee is to drop a Beaker Bead into their encourager's "Barnabas Bucket" in the Moot House - in the manner of the charity giving buckets in Waitrose. At the end of the day, if any beads have been deposited at all, the most encouraging person is recognised by being called "Barney" for the evening

9. All grumbling to be ruthlessly stamped out by the "Barnabas Police" (Hnaef + Young Keith).

10. Archdruid's decison is final. No correspondence will be entered. No purchase necessary.

Choosing Matthias

You know, you've got to feel sorry for Barsabbas.

Everybody's been up for a job they didn't get. And you can normally blame it on the way the HR person clearly didn't like you. Or the Head of Tea-Cakes isn't a good judge of character. Or maybe you shouldn't have callled the MD "Fishface". Even if he did have a face like a fish.

But poor Barsabbas. I can see those pocket funsters, James and John, doing their comedy double act while Simon Peter chairs the judges:

james: so the votes of the Judean people are in, and Herod - it's not you. Mary Magdalene - clearly it's not you. Matthias and Barsabbas - it might be you. Let's go to the judges' vote.

Matthew: We've all been on a journey. And I'm going with my heart. Barsabbas.

Andrew: Matthias, you really nailed that reading of Psalm 109. I'm putting you through to the final of "Disciples Got Talents."

Jude: Ooooh (cries)  this is so hard. Trying to decide between them is a hopeless cause. I'm going to go for.......... Barsabbas.

Simon Peter: You know, this is too much for me. I'm not going to be able to send anyone home. I'm going to send it to the Judge's decision. I'm voting for Matthias.

John: so with the panel's votes equal, you know what means. Barsabbas and Matthias - God has voted. And the new apostle is...... [absurd dramatic pause] Matthias.

I mean, poor old Barsabbas. He can hardly do a loser's speech where he tells James and John that he's gonna prove God's got it wrong, can he? He's gonna shuffle off to waiting on tables, reading God's Word, helping others, losing himself in obscurity and service. He may not be one of the Apostles - but he can still be a disciple.

Forgetting Mother Julian

Panic late last night as we discovered that we'd forgotten it was Mother Julian of Norwich's Day. We'd said last year, when we had no hazelnuts to celebrate her with, that we'd store some up in the Autumn. But Bry-anne got peckish and ate them on Boxing Day.

So we send Burton down to Tesco to see what he could get. Last year we ended up with de-shelled nuts - this time he brought back a  bar of chocolate. He told us that having Moscow'ed the requirements, he'd decided that having some kind of nut-based product was a "Must" but havimg whole hazelnuts was a "Should" - so he'd bought a pack of Snickers Bars. Personally I thought this was more of a Marathon than a sprint*.

In the end we agreed that Burton's brain is no bigger than a hazelnut. But how can you meditate on Burton's brain and see the wonders of the universe? To be fair, Young Keith removed the trepanning equipment before I could find out.

So we ended the day by agreeing that, in honour of Julian, we would wall Burton up in a small enclosure on the outside of the Moot House. We're going to let him out now. Poor soul, we forgot to give him a roof and it's been a rainy night. And people lobbing Snickers in to feed him hasn't helped.

*Joke only suitable for Agile developers who can remember what chocolate bars were called in England 30 years ago.

Condemnation of Jan Hus and John Wycliffe (1415)

Not one of the great moments of Church history, the Council of Constance.

There was all that tidying-up, of course. 1000 years of power speaking cosily to power had left the rather embarrassing situation of three Popes. So that had to be sorted out.

Then they had the small matter of condemning Jan Hus and John Wycliffe. Wycliffe didn't bother defending himself, and was tried in his absence, having died 30 years previously. Bet poor old Jan Hus, having been promised he'd come to no harm - this was more of a public inquiry - wished he'd thought of that. He was condemned and subsequently burnt at the stake.

So today we shall celebrate by holding an Inquiry into the Holding of Annoying Theological Views. I've invited Drayton Parslow over from his manse to give evidence. But don't worry, I've told him he'll be quite safe.

Feast of Athanasius

(Some Beaker Folk maintain that Athanasius deliberately died at this time of year so that Beltanetide could be appropriated for a Christian festival. I'd normallly maintain this kind of thing is tosh, but given it's Athanasius.... I wouldn't put anything beyond his zeal for truth).

Archdruid: A top o' the mornin' to yer.


All: We're ready to shine.

HYMN: Holy, Holy, Holy

All: Well, that was a bit of farce.

Archdruid: Yes. Next year we'll work out which "Holy Holy Holy" we're singing in advance, and make it quite clear to the individual members of the Music Group and the one with the Gift of Overhead Projection.


ANNUAL QUICK LOOK AT THE ATHANASIAN CREED

Mrs Hnaef: It's a bit long, isn't it?

Eileen: Well, there was a lot of heresy about.

Charlii: Do we have to believe that bit?

Eileen: That bit about "coeternal"? I suppose so. I'm just trying to work out what it means.

Charlii: No, the bit about eternal fire.

Hnaef: We don't believe that bit anymore. Just the rest. I always say "in a very real sense" at the end. It's the
ecclesiastical equivalent of ironic "quote" marks in the air.


All: Will you stop doing the ironic "quote" marks in the air???

Hnaef: "Whatever".


All: He did it again!

High-pitched voice from the back: "Stone him! Stone him!" [Suddenly lower voice] "Stone him!"

A South African (or, as it may be, German) voice from the back: Are we still barbarians? We don't stone people for heresy these days. We just let them form their own pressure groups.

High-pitched voice from the back: Or burn them, with everlasting fire!

Eileen: Have you seen the price at the pumps? and besides, Doreen, isn't it time for your Anglican Mainstream meeting?

Doreen: No, I'm going to counselling for that... tendency now. I'm hoping to be ex-attention seeker.

Eileen: OK. Seems to me the best thing we can do, to avoid offence to non-Trinitarians, and people that don't like long liturgy, is just to read a couple of lines in Latin. That way it sounds lovely and we don't have to agree with it.


All: Quicumque vult salvus esse, ante omnia opus est, ut teneat catholicam fidem: Quam nisi quisque integram inviolatamque servaverit, absque dubio in aeternam peribit. Fides autem catholica haec est.

Archdruid: Lovely.

Doreen: Can we burn them now then?

No Doubting Thomas

In the old days, Thomas the Twin was seen as - if not a bad guy - a weak one. The one who didn't really believe.

Or so we're told. I was thinking about it the other day. And I reckon that if I had a penny for every time I'd heard a post-modern sermon explaining how in fact Thomas was the sensible one, the one who had absolutely no reason to believe - how we should all be, in fact, like Thomas - I'd have about 30p.

In fact I'm beginning to think that nobody every really called Thomas "Doubting Thomas". He has always really been "Sensible, Cynical Thomas who is Prepared to go with the Evidence" - and "Doubting" Thomas is the one whom we just claim people believed in, in the same way we claim the people of old thought the Earth was flat (they didn't, for the most part - people didn't laugh at Christopher Columbus and he wasn't any kind of threat to the Catholic Church) - or that the whole Christian church argued with Darwin's Theory of Evolution (it didn't. We didn't invent Fundamentalism for another 50 years after Origin of the Species).

So let's forget the stereotypes, wipe the slate clean, and start again. And you can argue about the historicity
 of the story, or the traditions that led to it, or the discrepancies with Matthew and what-not - but let's not. Let's just take the story as it is.

First thing in the morning, there is a kerfuffle. There is an empty tomb, Peter sees the unoccupied cave. John (assuming he is the Beloved Disciple) believes in the Resurrection. Mary goes one better and sees the Lord. Jesus gives her some instructions - "don't hold onto me" and then leaves her. She rushes off to tell the disciples.

So that evening, we've 10 disciples, some mates and presumably some women (including possibly Our Lady, Salome etc) holed up in a house. They're scared, they're confused and according to Mark only St Mary Mag has seen Our Lord, although John is convinced. And they're scared of the Jewish authorities so they're locked in. Jesus appears among them, pronounces a blessing, gifts them the Holy Spirit, and presumably, after a brief conversation of which John records just a brief summary, melts away in much the way he came.

Thomas turns up. Where's he been? Shopping? Drowning his sorrows? I favour the second answer, as it seems to fit in with his rather expansive remark. "I'll believe it when I can put my hand in his side." So it's not as if Thomas never believes his mates. On the evidence of John and Mary he's believed that Jesus had a spear put in his side - he's believed all the details of the crucifixion. But the details of the Resurrection - that's another matter. Is he being sarcastic? Setting a perfectly reasonable test of evidence? Or is it hyperbole - effectively saying that the Resurrection of Jesus is so unlikely that he'll put his hand in his side if it happens? It seems that Thomas is weighing the reliability of his mates against the unlikelihood of the event. Which is fair enough. If Hnaef tells me that it's raining outside, I'll get my brolly before I go out. If he tells me there's a unicorn in the garden, I'll have a look out before I start rooting around in the cupboard looking for the Unicorn Pellets. They make dreadful holes in your lettuces, do unicorns. But then they're mythical, so you don't automatically assume they're running amok in the garden.

So "Jesus stabbed in side with spear" - friends averagely reliable - Thomas believes.

"Jesus walking through doors, alive and well and breathing the Holy Spirit" - friends still averagely reliable, but dead-beat, frightened, probably seriously short of sleep (like all clergy by Easter Sunday evening) - Thomas doubts. Doesn't disbelieve - just doubts.

He then spends a week as his mates are all going round - "Isn't it great about Jesus being alive again"; "I wonder if he'll turn up again"; "For a day or two there, Jesus had me going." Thomas is in a strange kind of world - wanting to believe, but not quite able to. After all, his friends are going to be pretty consistent, albeit they're not getting any braver.

And so the next Sunday. There they all are. Thomas has not left John' s side for 7 days. That's why Thomas is "the twin". He's been going around hanging on to John, sticking to him like a shadow. He's not slipped out for a quick one this time. It's been a week, a whole week of annoyance and frustration, but he's stuck with it. And he's reckoning that, if ever, this is when Jesus is going to turn up.

Sees Jesus, sums up situation - "My Lord and my God". No bluster, no doubts. Just one of the most heretical things a devout Jew could say - in a perfectly sensible and adequate response to the evidence. Not the evidence of his flaky mates - the evidence of his own eyes. He sums up the evidence perfectly.

I do like Thomas. He's the brave one who says "well we may as well go to Jerusalem and die with him". I say "brave" - "desperate" might be another word; again, "cynical" might be another. But he can reckon up the probabilities of what may happen if they go to Jerusalem - calls it about right, let's face it - and still figure it's worth going with it - because if Jesus goes to Jerusalem without them, after all, what have they got left?

He's the one who effectively says "I'm not saying I don't believe you - I'm just saying give me the evidence". And he's the one who makes the leap that the others couldn't manage in a week. Imagine that week as he's thinking - "If I don't see Jesus, he's just a dead rabbi. If I do see Jesus - there's only one thing he can be. If I don't see Jesus, we just go back to normal. If I do see Jesus - I'm going to have to bow and worship. If I don't see Jesus, things are still what they seem. If I do see Jesus - there's something very different about the world, all of a sudden."

Thomas is our voice. His mates have shared their faith - he's said thank you, that's very interesting. But I need a bit more. He's the perfectly reasonable one who hangs on for a bit more evidence. Of course, he gets a lot more.

Wish we got that much more. We go on Thomas and the others, their lives and particularly their deaths, the conviction that Jesus' nature makes him the best human being there ever was and the wholly improbable way that the church grew, and suffered, and grew. To be honest, it would be a lot easier to believe if Jesus turned up in the Moot House one day and showed us his wounds.

Maybe that's why we're more blessed than Thomas?

St Patrick, the South Midlands Saint

Who could be a more appropriate saint for the southern end of the English Midlands than St Patrick?

It's always a joy to celebrate one of our local saints - John Bunyan of Elstow, Gary Cooper of Dunstable, St Cadoc, who was martyred at Bannaventa near modern Daventry, and St Patrick who was born there. So nur-nur-nur. St Patrick wasn't just from what is now England - he was from just 30 miles up the road.

So today we have celebrated St Patrick with appropriate local food - Ock and Dough, Bedfordshire Clangers, Long Buckby Feast Pudding and Frog Island beer from Northampton. I love it when we celebrate these things properly.

Ss Perpetua and Felicity

Martyred for their Christian conversion.

Witnesses that the power of an idea can terrify the earthly rulers - that a heavenly allegiance can trump an earthly one.

You can talk about their civilisation all you like. And I know they gave us roads, law and order and vineyards. But when you think about it that just means we also got lawyers, road rage and headaches. They were a shoddy lot, the Romans.

Once Every Four Years

It's a plan I've had in mind for a while now, and on this special day, it seems it's right to put it into action.

You see, it's Burton. He's been living in the Treasurer's Flat, next door to the Archdruidical Suite, for a long while now. Frequently his is the first face I see in the morning, and he's often the one to wish me "good night" - although not that often. Being a good accountant/trainspotter he's often asleep under the influence of a couple of pints of "Old Crungewelter" long before I head upwards to my own lavender-scented pillows. And I'm not made of stone - I recognise that since he was divorced he's been terribly lonely.

And of course it is that special day today. And so I've made a decision.

I'm having him evicted. I could convert that flat into a very nice walk-in wardrobe. I'm sure St John Cassian, who fled into the desert and is remembered on February 29,  will look after Burton when he is, likewise, driven out into the wilderness.

Celebrity Saint Smackdown

Over in Lent Madness, an interesting concept - a match-up between two great saints of the church, and the chance to pick your favourite.

You may think it's a bit of a laugh, or a bit disrespectful (there's not really any wrestling involved). But it does give you the chance to compare two religious greats - in this case Ephrem of Edessa and Thomas Cranmer. A noted ascetic versus a man of power and influence.

The English Reformation was not tidy nor clear. It was often not even about doctrine. You may loathe Henry VIII, and with good reason.  But Thomas Cranmer wrote sublime English, and made good his confession at the last.

Ephrem was likewise a man whose writing the Spirit moved and, in his own way, a martyr.

My Nerdy Valentine

In some ways I blame myself. We've worked so hard to remove all the more troublesome masculine characteristics that all we have left is "geeky". It's anonymous, of course, but all the evidence points to Burton Dasset as the sender, as you'll see:

Roses are red, violets are blue,
The base of love is binary,
And 1 and 1 make 10.

Lovely.

John Hooper (1555)

The first Protestant Bishop (although not the first Martyr) to suffer in the Marian persecution. Bishop of Gloucester. Yet he does not, as far as I understand, merit even a commemoration from the good old C of E*.

Perhaps because he wasn't a Cambridge man?

*© The Church Mouse

Wemembrance of Wulfstan of Worcester

Archdruid: We wemember Wulfstan!

All: Which Wulfstan?

Archdruid: Wulfstan of Worcester!

All: We will wemember Wulfstan of Worcester!

Archdruid: Worrier of the Welsh!

All: And wealthy!

Archdruid: Wich through wool!

All: And weliable for William!

Archdruid: Which William?

All: William the B... Conquewor.

Archdruid: And now let us wejoice in the weturn of Wikipedia! Without which I'd wonder where we were.

All: Welcome, Wikipedia!

A Late Trio

It was that noted tweeter-about-town Londiniensis who pointed this out. That of the three famous deaths of recent days, Christopher Hitchens provoked much mourning and opining; Vaclav Havel died and nobody (on Twitter) really mentioned it, and Kim Jong Il provoked mostly jokes. Of course, Londiniensis put it more succinctly than that.

But it's an interesting world we live in, where a death that could threaten the world provokes mostly puns on the deceased's names. Given the starvation of so many of North Korea's people and the imprisonment of people fort their politics and their beliefs, I would say that the man, and the system that put him in place, are no joke at all. Hitchens was always challenging, but will be forgotten within a decade, I would guess - tell me in 10 years if I'm wrong. But Vaclav Havel was a blooming hero.

Maybe the Facebook / Twitter generation are already forgetting the horrors that the Eastern Bloc's leaders inflicted on their long-suffering people. Havel, an articulate critic of the regime in what was then Czechoslovakia, spent years in prison. As the regime crumbled in the late 80s, somehow Czechoslovakia managed to transition to a democratic state and then - amazingly - the Czechs and Slovaks managed to split their nations apart without the bloodshed other countries suffered from.

It's not down to me of course. But if the popular view is the right one, and if people end up where they deserve, Kim Jong Il is currently eternally enjoying his own form of hospitality. Vaclav Havel is in a place where he can write all the plays he likes, and the government won't get touchy. And Christopher Hitchens is probably in the bar.

John the X-factor Baptist

This is the testimony John gave when they sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem. He replied and said,
"I really believe I'm going the whole way here. You've got to keep me in because this is my dream."

They said to him, "Are you Elijah?", he said "No".

They said to him, "One of the Prophets, then?" He said "No."

Then they said to him "who are you?"

He said to them, "I'm the one whose sandals you're not fit to tie.This is my destiny. I'm gonna make it as big as Moses. I'm gonna be King of the World. As long as I win the Final phone-in."

And so they put John in an advert along with the other Fore-runners, and they all recorded the Christmas single knowing that, if they won, they'd be Number 1 for Christmas.

Twelve months later, nobody could remember John the Baptist.

The two gods of Christmas

On a theme I have touched on before, I note that as ever the people of Husborne Crawley (and outlying settlements such as Woburn, Bedford and Milton Keynes) are starting to decorate their houses with their idols.

Today is of course the Feast Day of Jolly St Nick.  St Nicholas might or might not be amused were he with us now - rather than being at the North Pole, clinging onto a melting ice floe and making smart-phones, as of course he really is - to see all the effigies of himself that are appearing outside houses, on roofs, in shops and on office desks around the country.

And if I may stretch my analogy beyond all reason - Santa - the god into whom St Nick, via the Germanic andd rather scary "Father Christmas" has morphed - is the last resort of the Market worshippers. For when the Market is failing its devotees, and the demon Recession (which is, lest we forget, good for the Environment (tm)) snaps at our heels - it is then that we turn, in darkness and dread fear, to Santa. Foul chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the earth hope for a Good Christmas on the High Street. One thinks of the Children of Israel, when Baal's not delivering the goods, wondering if Astarte can kick-start the recovery.

He's a fairly useless god, is Santa. He builds up your hopes till Christmas Eve and then, like the hopes of snow in early December, he melts in the misty drizzle of an unseasonably warm Christmas morning. He is flattened by the on-rush of the worshippers of the great god New Year Sales, as they head for the websites after dinner on Christmas day.

And leaves another god in his wake. A little, quiet, unassuming one who sneaks in on Christmas Eve, unable even to speak at this stage, while everyone's down the pub. Who isn't embarrassed by his image deflating on people's lawns in the run-down to Twelfth Night. Because he's used to being ignored and forgotten, laughed at and jeered at - beaten and bruised. He sneaks in while we're looking at big, bright, red Santa. But if you're not careful he can stay well beyond Boxing Day.

Happy St Nicholas' Day. And God bless us, one and all.

Who's New in Heaven - John the Baptist

	Enter Angie the Recording Angel (a chat-show host) with a “This is Your Life” style book
Angie	Hello, good morning, and welcome to “Who’s New in Heaven”, where every week we meet a new arrival and find out what they got up to on earth. I’m Angie the Recording Angel, and this week I’ll be opening up the Book of Life with a very special guest. Here he is - ladies and gentleman, it’s John the Baptist.
	Enter John the Baptist, carrying a guitar, accompanied by the riff from “Smoke on the Water”.
Angie	John the Baptist. Welcome to heaven. Great to have our first saint on the program.
JTB	Thanks very much, Angie. It’s good to be here.
Angie	And nice to see your head back where it belongs. Helps to keep the guitar on, I bet. Now, St John. Some people are saying where did it all go wrong? A promising start to your career, then cut cruelly short
JTB	Yeah, in more ways than one.
Angie	Quite. But in the early days, you just seemed to explode on the scene.
JTB	Yeah, people talk like I came from nowhere. But you’ve got to realise I paid my dues, out playing the provincial gigs before the crowds started to arrive. Years of hard work, learning the craft, out in the desert.
Angie	And I believe that times were hard, then.
JTB	Yeah. Locusts and honey. That’s all I had to eat. Though you could make the locusts taste better by dipping them in the honey. And the honey tasted even better if you didn't eat the locusts.
Angie	But it was during that time in the desert that your wrote your first big hit?
JTB	Absolutely. “Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand”. Went to number 1 in Judea.
Angie	So the crowds packed in. Biggest draw in the Decapolis. You must have felt on top of the world.
JTB	Yeah, and the hits rolled out. “Give your coat to someone who doesn’t have one.” That was the follow up. We were rocking all over the known world.
Angie	And what would you say was the pinnacle of your career?
JTB	Had to be the time when I worked with Jesus. I remember the first time I saw him - I just stood there and said “Behold the Lamb of God”.
Angie	Of course, that was your next hit?
JTB	Oh yeah. “Behold the Lamb of God” was huge.
Angie	And it’s going to be covered for the next two thousand years.
JTB	Cool. I knew I was in the presence of the Master. I wasn’t fit to change his guitar strings.
Angie	But Jesus’ arrival on the scene caused some disruption for you, musically?
JTB	Well, some of my backing musicians joined his group. Peter, and Andrew, and Nicodemus. Best horn section I ever had. But then, we were part of a real vibrant scene, I had plenty of others wanting to join the band, and let’s face it. He was the best. At that first gig – I saw the Holy Spirit fall on him. He was the Son of God.
Angie	So why did you split up?
JTB	Artistic differences. There was no doubt about it, if I stayed with Jesus I was always going to be singing backing vocals. And I still felt like I had something to offer – somewhere to develop.
Angie	But it was your protest songs that upset Herod?
JTB	Well, particularly upset his wife. And of course she got him to have my head cut off.
Angie	That must have been the lowest moment for you.
JTB	Wish you'd stop making gags about it.  But oddly enough, not really. I mean, it was bad, but it brought me here. Thinking back, it was when I was in prison, wondering whether Jesus was really who he said he was. That was the real darkest time.
Angie	You doubted if he was the Son of God?
JTB	I did. I mean, I’d thought the Kingdom coming in would mean we were on the Stairway to Heaven. I thought, Nothing’s Gonna Stop us Now.
Angie	Instead you’d ended up on the Road to Nowhere.
JTB	Yeah. And doing the Jailhouse Rock.
Angie	So, looking back – was he the Son of God?
JTB	It’s like the man said. The lame walked, the blind could see, the deaf could hear and the dead were raised. Course he was.
Angie	Now, John, nobody leaves the show empty-handed. So we’ve just got time to show you a few things that you’ll be remembered by on earth. You get two feast days. Most saints will only get one, if they’re lucky. [Hands over “Feast Day” cards from his book]. You get your own symbol – the Lamb and Flag. [Hands over inn sign] – there’ll be a few pubs named after that.
JTB	Bit ironic, seeing’s I didn’t even drink.
Angie	And every year, during the days of Advent, people all over the world will light a candle to remember you – the man who recognised the Son of God, and stood firm in his witness to the end.
JTB	Nice.
Angie	John the Baptist, thank you very much. Join us next week, when in a specially shortened program we’ll be hoping to have a word with Lazarus. Till then, it’s goodbye from John the Baptist;
JTB	Goodbye
Angie	And goodbye from me. [Exit both]

Keeping Cattern

In days gone by each small area of the country had its own specialisms. Yeovil, I believe, made gloves. Melton Mowbray, pork pies. Luton had straw hats, and after that it made cars such as the Vauxhall Shove-it. Northamptonshire made boots and shoes.

And between the straw hat world and that of boots, from Woburn to Northampton to Wellingborough to Bedford, they made lace.

Husborne Crawley being in the Lace Belt, we've done some checking and sure enough in the 19th Century we had lace makers up at Church End. Cottage work and women's work and vicious it were on the eyes, huddled around a candle.

But on 25 November ever year the Lace Makers had a day off for St Catherine's Day. They would eat Cattern Cakes flavoured with caraway seeds and have a nice cup of tea. I'm thinking it wasn't the wildest of festivals but it was at least a relief frrom squinting at lace. So today we're lighting a tea light and raising a beaker of something not totally unlike tea, to celebrate those who went before, slaving in the cold with worn-down down fingers so rich ladies could have frilly knickers.

St Hugh of Swans

I've always had a certain affection for St Hugh. Together with St Chad he is patron of my former College chapel. As he's a kind of honorary "old boy", as it were, I did go to the trouble of visiting St Hugh last time I was in Lincoln - although, to be fair, he was a bit quiet. However unlike Chad, the patron saint of people who look over walls and of small circles of paper, St Hugh is the patron saint of sick people and swans.

Given these two specialisms, we figured we'd two choices for this morning's special service. We could either have a healing service, or a blessing of swans. Now last time we had a healing service I became accutely aware of the presence of lots of ill people around the place. Which un-nerved me, frankly. And thanks to our theology of healing - which states that God often responds quite quickly to prayers for common colds and for people who are "feeling a bit down", but allows long-term, debilitating illlnesses and amputations to linger for the good of the sufferers' souls - we never really pray for healing per se anyway. More for a general feeling of acceptance, and a prayer that they'll make it to the doctor safely.

So it looks like a swan blessing. We're getting the Community charabanc out and heading for the Bedford embaankment, with maybe a hint of an unusual cider at the Wellington Arms.

Now all we've got to do is work out how you bless a swan. I reckon there's no point throwing water over them. They won't know the difference. Just water off a duck's back really. Maybe we should just wish them well from the side lines, and chuck them some bread.

Martyrdom of Elijah Parish Lovejoy

Whose biography can be read here.

A man who died opposing slavery in Illinois.

We'll sing some spirituals, and reflect that today there are more slaves than ever before.

Stop the Traffik