Performing vs Worshipping

It's one of those great spiritual dichotomies, embedded in our psyches since the first human being unexpectedly evolved a soul and the ability to hold an Appalachian Mountain Zither. Is music in worship to be performed, or congegational?

It came up particularly last night at the Music Group meeting. I always try to meet up with the "MP3 replacement Opportunities" on the first Friday of the month. First we deal with all the tedious stuff - admin, spiritual concerns, opportunities to expand and explore the use of music in enhancing worship. And then I like to get on with the important stuff, i.e. the rest of my life, leaving them to make whatever row they like in a spiritual manner.

Anyway, they've got a new "piece". And they know I hate it when music groups have "pieces". I consider it showing off. I always say to them that they have to be careful to ensure they're enabling others to worship, not merely performing. Consider whether playing a piece that is too difficult for others to join in, fits into a worship setting.

And they say to me, I never tell Elzpeth that when she's doing a liturgical dance - never encourage others to join in with the dancing. To which I generally point out that Elzpeth is a large-boned young woman with poor co-ordination skills.  I do feel that the best way to use her dancing skills in a worship setting is to keep the other Beaker Folk behind the safety barriers. Or, ideally, in another Moot House.

Anyway, this new "piece" is another experimental work. All three musicians wear identical Guy Fawkes masks during "Threeness and Ivory". It's a work that consists of Izmir hitting a lump of corrugated iron with a frozen chicken, while Godfreya shouts the Athanasian Creed in Serbo-Croat. They say the bashing noises represent the woes laid up for whoever won't believe the words of gentle Athanasius, while the "bridge", where the three performers swap instruments while running in circles, is meant to represent perestroika. I say don't they mean perichoresis? And they say they know what they mean.

You see, for me that's probably a bit tricky for the congregation to join in with. Most of them have fairly poor Serbo-Croat to start with, and it's not the easiest tune to pick up. And of course it's forty-five minutes long. But Godfreya says they're supposed to worship by listening and watching. That I have retained an overly activist view of worship thanks to my Extreemly Primitive Methodist upbringing. That the congregation can know God's presence through the contrasting experiences of the shouting, the banging, and the flying shards of chicken.

And maybe she's got a point. I did suggest that they could maybe do with a couple more weeks of rehearsal, but Izmir says they're running short of frozen chickens.

Orik, the guitarist, was still trying to find E minor when I left. You know, I'm not a vegetarian - and I know that in this fallen world there will always be pain. But I can't stand to see music suffering like that.

Upsetting the Music Group

So it turns out I've upset the Beaker Quire.

I mean - all I did was refer to them as "MP3 Replacement Candidates." I mean, what?

Worst Case Scenarios in Global Warming

Never ask me about worst-case scenarios. If, for example, you asked me what the worst-case scenario is for the melting of the Greenland glaciers, I'd reply that the worst case is that the melting goes into reverse, the Northern hemisphere is covered with ice, and we all freeze. That Al Gore would look pretty silly, then - so at least it wouldn't be all bad.

Or the alternative worst-case scenario is that the melting ice uncovers a hibernating nest of krakens and triffids, who take over the world with a race of telepathic Canadians. That would be pretty bad as well.

So when the Guardian tells us that the "worst-case scenario" for the Greenland glaciers may not be realised, I figure that this is, frankly, stating the obvious. The range of scenarios goes from best case (all the climate scientists are totally wrong and we're merely wasting our money) to worst case (loads of sea level rise and Husborne Crawley fills up with refugees from Peterborough and Walthamstow). There's a whole range of scenarios in between these two.

In ordinary situations, the most likely case will be somewhere in between best and worst case. Of course, this doesn't make for good headlines. Which is why I'm not really writing this and you're not really reading this, as we all died of eating infected beef fifteen years ago.

So if I edited the Guardian, i'd rewrite the headline as "Worst-case Scenario was never likely to happen" or "Scale of Worst-case scenario downgraded to slightly less-bad". Which, if nothing else, shows you why I don't edit the Guardian, I guess.

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.

Going to Extremes

The overall story after today's Local Elections will no doubt be a swing from the Liberals and Conservatives to New Labour. That's the logic of mid-term elections with the Government doing unpopular things. In the great scheme of things, a load of councillors will lose their seats to a load of other councillors, but thanks to 20 years of centralisation of control over council funds, it probably won't make much difference.

But there's an increasing amount of chat around the fringe parties - Respect, BNP - the National Front, apparently, in some places. I hesitate to include UKIP in that list because they're almost looking mainstream in comparison.

We live in uncertain times. We watch the Eurozone in crisis. We know the last Government spent a load of money they shouldn't have, but we don't think the current lot know how they're going to get us out of it. And those traditional espousers of lost political causes and floating voters, the Lib Dems, are tied into the lack of vision that the Tories are giving us.

Uncertain times give people the need for simple answers. That's often where apocalyptic comes in. For all the weirdness of the imagery, the apocalyptic message is, at heart, simple. There's bad guys oppressing the good ones. The world's falling apart. It's all gonna end nastily, but the good guys will win out. Stick with us, we're the good guys.

At a time of uncertainty, there's simple hope there. And when there's an oppressive regime, a vicious dictatorship, a dehumanizing system - it's a reminder that these things will pass, and an encouragement to change them.

But the visions of the bad guys are splintered today. Are we dealing with an Islamophobic Western conspiracy, or an Islamic conspiracy against the West? Is it that the bankers, Media and Tories are conspiring to grind us all into the ground while feathering their own nests? Cos if so then Labour was just as enmeshed in that as the Tories - better look further Left. Are we being over-run with Somalis, Poles, Romanians or Pakistanis? Whichever simplistic problem you see will determine the simplistic solution you choose. Or is it that the Evil Europeans are taking our sovereignty, dissolving our borders and allowing terrorists to swim freely in our swimming pools? If so, then Mr Farrage is very definitely your man.

Life is messy, our problems are hard and it's not stopped raining since the Drought started. The simple problems and simple answers may well be attractive today. Let's just hope (and pray, if you do) that they don't look so sensinle at the next General Election.

Henchard and Saul, Farfrae and David

You know how it is. You're reading one of your favourite passages for the thousandth time, and the truth leaps out at you.

I refer, of course, to that passage in The Mayor of Casterbridge where Henchard forces the choir, with the threat of a poker, to sing Pps 109 to the tune, "Wiltshire". And it struck me.

Henchard is Saul - Farfrae is David.

Googling around the Web, I find that I am by quite a long way not the first to notice this. In fact, you're probably all sat there reading thhis, thinking "Well, Duh.".

But you see the way it is. Henchard is the older man, already ruler of his domain. Farfrae is the young man - taken under Henchard's wing because of his energy and his ability to calm the older man's black moods.

Saul disobeys a divine command and spoils a city rather than destroying it. Henchard cocks up over his dealiing - ignores the wisdom of the conjurer (think of Saul and Samuel) and is ruined financially.

David becomes close to Saul's son: Farfrae becomes close to Henchard's former mistress. Both younger men marry the older one's daughter. The crowds run after the younger - Farfrae's triumph at the fair echoing the songs about the numbers David has slain.

Both older men have their black moods, and both their fatal weaknesses. Both dabble in the black arts. Both die prematurely (as do the beloveds of the younger men) - and in both cases the younger men inherit, thus achieving all the older men tried to prevent.

As I say, apologies if I've bored you. Sometimes you just have to share.

Now I'd better get down to the Moot House for Pouring out of Beakers and Wringing out of Bell-bottoms. Charlii's singing a solo version of Caribbean Blue. She may be after my job, but she's got a lovely voice.

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.

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?

An Ill-matched Couple?

So it's official.

Young Keith and Charlii are "an item".

I hope he knows what he's doing. I mean, she goes around dressed in a squirrel outfit a lot of the time. And Trainee Assistant Druid isn't a job with great promotion prospects. At least, not as long as I'm Archdruid.

Dismal Day

For those of us who like to use our religion to get some good feel-good feelings, this hasn't been a great day.

Obviously I can't complain too much. After all, I have my health. And a completely improper amount of tax-free cash stashed away beyond the reach of that pesky so-called 99% and, more relevant, George Osborne.

But you know, last night's Beltane celebration was dismal. Cold, wet, the Wicker Person didn't catch fire. And it's no fun, sacrificially getting up at 5am to discover that the warm half of the year is being launched in driving rain under a cold, gray, merciless sky.

It's at times like this that lighting a tea light just doesn't help. God's a million miles away, even the ability to manufacture spiritual feelings is seeping away. I tell you, I'm so down that even the sound of the cash register in the Beaker Bazaar can't cheer me up. Not least because, given the foul weather, our Spring range of Beaker Prayer Kites is hardly flying from the shelves. Get it? Flying from the shelves? Nah, didn't make me laugh, either.

So I've been dwelling on one short sentence. In the absence of any decent experiences or gooey feelings you may not think it of much import. It doesn't fill me with love for my fellow Beaker People, it doesn't give me the urge to sing happy songs, it's just the thing to hold on. It still seems to work in a way, so I'll cling onto it.

"On the third day he rose again".

Can't prove it, can't persuade you of it, don't even feel like living like it's true. But it's what it is. It'll have to do.

May Morning

Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!

 And other related Middle English gibberish. Now can we go back to bed?