Shock at an attempted reconciliation meeting at Labour HQ, when Tristram Hunt unexpectedly turns up.....

"Nuns! Reverse!"

He went on to announce a free pet brick for all in a Labour Britain, before looking at his hairy hands and being dragged off screaming.

Sherlock and the Watchmaker - the Word Become Flesh

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory,

the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

Warning - spoiler alert.

 The pictures below show the set-up of the house in Camden that doubles, in the new Sherlock, as being 221B Baker Street. Burton  kindly snapped them for us on his way home from counting beans in his day job. And it would appear that the Christmas Special will feature some kind of flashback to Victorian times. Given that this was yesterday, I expect that this afternoon, Holmes and Watson were running up and down outside, getting into taxis, shouting "The game is afoot!" and trying to find some Baker Street Irregulars, while running through fake fog. Or something.

Setting up "Speedy's Cafe" to be "Speedwell's Tea rooms"

A large fronded plant and assorted Victoriana

Now, though, it will be dark, and there will be no more filming outside Baker St. And by Monday,all the paraphernalia will be removed.  Baker Street will once again be North Gower Street, a pleasantish backwater off Euston Road. Speedy's caff will be selling bacon street sandwiches again. And Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman will be elsewhere - either to play the same characters in a studio somewhere or else at home, being the posh, expectant father and the dutiful father-of-two respectively.

And it's tempting to read the Gospel in the same way. The son of God arrives on this fallen earth. He wanders around the place, giving good examples and inspiring teaching. He dies. He rises. He goes away. And nothing has changed.

That way of thinking separates earth and heaven - puts up a vast gap between God and creation. On earth, ant-like creatures that bumble around, falling over, walking into walls, fighting each other and dropping down dead. Meanwhile God sits, like a banker in a Southwark penthouse, looking down on the woe and poverty below. The Watchmaker who wound it all up or - if you prefer in this electronic era - put the hearing-aid battery in - and wanders off to do something else.

But the preface to John's Gospel, as you re-read it - however mystical, poetic - tells a different story. The Word is the creative principle - the one everything is made through. And the Word's closeness to that creations is breathed through the piece as much as the Spirit breathes life into Creation. All things are made through the Word - an intimacy with the world that is so much more than the relationship between a creation and the creator who stands back to admire the creation.  Not one corner of this immense universe was not made through the Word. The life that belongs to the Word, is the light of the ones that are made in God's image. This is a relationship as close as can be imagined, between God and the world. Its dependence on God is complete.

But God could imagine it being closer.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. Not "was veiled in flesh", though I don't suppose Wesley was in a particularly heretical mood when he wrote it. He was probably just enjoying the poetry. Stronger than "veiled in". "Became." The one the world was made through, became made of the world itself. He made the stars. And now he is himself made from stardust. His body and blood formed, in the womb of a frail woman of the earth. The stuff of the earth was already special - all of is was made through him. But now he bears its imprint on him. The Word is made from the dust of the earth. The one whose name God breathed into the void of space, breathes the warm air of the Judean hillsides.

Now the thing about being made of the stuff of the earth is, it makes you like the earth. Which is to say, finite and temporary. And if you're made of human flesh and blood, it means you respond like human flesh and blood. If you're worked too hard, you get tired. If somebody lashes your back, you bleed. If somebody drives nails into your wrists, they go through. And if they attach you to a cross and leave you in the sun, you die.

The Word was made flesh and made his dwelling among us. And that made us so uncomfortable, so scared. It challenged the powers that be - brought real power into the world. The power beside which all the power of tyrants, dictators and puppet rulers pales.

When the princes of the earth had done their best, and the Lord had been born again, from the womb of the earth, he returned to where he came. But in his return it wasn't that everything was like it had been before.

I don't think it was so much that the world had changed, from having the Word living in it, walking on it. It was more like, God changed.

The source of life had tasted death. The one whose hands hold the universe, had been nailed through the hands. The changless one had known change. There is a new and unexpected thing in heaven - a human being sitting on the throne.

He is still wounded.

The scars in his hands, on his feet, on his back, they're still there. The changing, deathly world we live in has left its mark on God. He became like us - he knew what it is like to be us. And he still shares our pains and our grief and the depths to which we can feel we have sunk. The pains of every wounded childm every murdered 

But he is alive, and reigns forever.

It's a bloody awful world, sometimes. But I do believe it is good, because it was made through the Word. You hear some Christians talk like this world is passing away, but I don't believe it's being scrapped. After all, the King of Kings, ruling in heaven, is made of the stuff that you, and I, and the world, are made of. There's a promise of a beautiful future - for the heaven, for the earth, for all of us. It's not about destruction - it's about resurrection. It's not about God giving up on this world - how could God give up on the world? God loves it so much he gave his Son. It's about God lifting us up, picking us up, wiping every tear from our eyes.

Jesus didn't play a part - he wasn't pretending to be a human being.  He wasn't a 1st Century Benedict Cumberbatch, acting his part in grotty London before going back to his posh life. He is the ultimate method actor - or the ultimate bad actor. Like Ricky Gervais in the Office, he's only playing himself, He wasn't toying with mortality. The watchmaker became a living sundial - the one whose own shadow tells you that the time is now. He was part of the mechanics - the pendulum that makes the tick regular, that will one day make the clock run true.

"What do you mean, Jesus is like me?"

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

And in the middle, and the end, and all through the End, the Word has become flesh, and makes his dwelling with us. Because he is like us.

Apology and Accessibility

Some humble pie.

In my previous blog post to you, O God-lovers, I posted an inspirational picture. Unfortunately some of the text on that picture was illegible to some people due to the colours of text and background being difficult to distinguish.

The great irony in this - if irony were the right word, which it isn't really - is that in the blog post before that, I'd warned against doing exactly that. In my defence, I put the text in the TITLE tag of the image.  In my non-defence, that meant I had made the page more useful to completely blind people with screen readers, than to people with colour blindness using smart phones.

Here is the text, in its plainest form.

Liturgically dance like nobody's watching.

Pray like nobody's got the dinner on at home. 

Write letters to the newspaper about traditional language in the liturgy like nobody cares. 

Advertise "Back to Church Sunday" like most people these days have just drifted away.

Confuse the Persons of the Trinity like Athanasius isn't looking down on you from heaven right now.

Preach like nobody's listening.*

Hold Church Meetings like everybody's going to live forever.

Arrange flowers like that one at the back isn't really a triffid.

Rip out pews like the Chancellor of Gloucester Diocese doesn't know how to produce very large Acrobat documents.

Pontificate on sexual morality like nobody's paying any attention.  

* They're not. Don't worry.

An Inspirational Message

Liturgically dance like nobody's watching.

Pray like nobody's got the dinner on at home. 

Write letters to the newspaper about traditional language in the liturgy like nobody cares. 

Advertise "Back to Church Sunday" like most people these days have just drifted away.

Confuse the Persons of the Trinity like Athanasius isn't looking down on you from heaven right now.

Preach like nobody's listening.*

Hold Church Meetings like everybody's going to live forever.

Arrange flowers like that one at the back isn't really a triffid.

Rip out pews like the Chancellor of Gloucester Diocese doesn't know how to produce very large Acrobat documents.

Pontificate on sexual morality like nobody's paying any attention.  

* They're not. Don't worry.

Some Advice to Church Data Projector Operators

In many ways, in these high-definition, image-centered, techno-rocking-all-over world, the Data Project Operator is the lynchpin of the whole worship performance. Once upon a time, in wannabe-trendy but not-really-Spirit-led fellowships, they had the simple task of putting on five acetates at the right time, the right way up, and moving them up at the same speed as the music. In those days, advice would mostly be restricted to "move the sheet, not the mirror", "you've got it face down" and "enough with the bunny ears, already".

But that was a simpler time. A time when good handwriting in squeaky felt tip was an essential part of the craft. That was then and this, dear hearts, is now.

It's more complex now. We have lap tops. Church wi-fi. Data projection. We don't just have them for the words. We can illustrate sermons. Project the liturgy. Put up pictures of snowflakes during the notices. Show YouTube videos instead of the sermon. Do not underestimate the new-found power of the Overhead Operator to enhance or destroy the worship experience. So here's some advice.

1. If you have church wi fi, switch it off on your laptop. Having emails pop up would be embarrassing enough. Having a picture from last night, when you were being uninhibited with other members of the "Woburn Sands Sons of the Old West" get-together, spring up from a social media message halfway through "Christ Alone, Cornerstone" is another matter entirely. I never want to see Burton Dasset in 10 Gallon Hat, spurs and waistcoat again. And chaps? I should think it does, with all that leather.

2. Don't fiddle with the buttons. Some of them are inclined to rotate or invert the screen display. And if it happens, it's murder to get it back...

Last time we had this happen, several Beaker Folk resorted to standing on their heads. Caused all the blood to rush to their heads. OK, there was plenty of space for it. But they were quite spiritual for hours afterwards.

3. Sometimes you will have an inspired worship leader who goes back to the first verse, segues into another song, or randomly repeats chorus - or just forgets where they are - do not panic.
Let me repeat that.

Don't Panic

What you don't do is start randomly pushing the up and down arrows to try and find the right place. Especially not if you're unfamiliar with the song. You'll put yourself under pressure and the next thing you know everybody will be trying to sing "Lifeline" to the tune of "Abide with me."

4. Don't use a Lady Gaga screensaver.

5. If you must use a lovely background, don't use one which contains the same colours as the text of the song. Or you might hear some random awkward pauses.

6. It's a little-known secret of the Overhead Projector Operators' Guild that, if there is a power cut during a service, the Operator has to act out all the words of the songs through the medium of mime. The international operator's sign language for "Out of my depth in your love" is holding your nose while blowing kisses.

7. All Overhead Projector Operators are looking for the fabled CMYK setting for "black light".  If directed accurately, this can make the pastor disappear.

8. Never let the pastor have the remote controlled controller.

9. Always have a complete set of songsheets in case it all goes wrong.

10. That amusing animated gif doesn't really fit into a worship context.

11. Enough with the bunny ears already.

12. Team work is essential, as it being aware of where the spirit of the meeting is moving So keep a close eye on what the worship leader is doing.
They're well dodgy, are worship leaders.

13. If your laptop freezes or crashes, don't shout at it what you said to the PC at work last week.

And you might want to read this as well.

---

"A Spaceman came travelling" - Chris de Burgh, 1975

Entering the Kingdom

I shouldn't be on the Office Computer.

But they told me the Moot was on this evening. And they were talking about Children in the Church. And I wanted to hear what they said.

So I hid in the Church Office because you can hear the Moot through the door. And they did Matters Arising. And they all argued about what happened last time. And then Eileen had to play the recording of the Moot she always makes in case there is an argument next time. For three hours.

And then they talked about Children in the Church. And they all said that children are important, because they are the Church of the Future. So is that why they always make the children go out? Because they're not in the Church now? So they have to go out and wait until the future is here, and then they can stay in?

And so they said it is really good there are children. But they have to be quiet. And not fall over. And not run around., And not say anything. But come back at the end with nativities made from toilet rolls. Which is what Eileen did in 1969. Even in the summer, she said. Her house must have been full of toilet roll nativities when Eileen was a young girl.

And then Jazmine said she wasn't going to do the Sunday Club anymore. She said she had to teach all week at Little Pebbles and then on Saturday she did the Messy Pouring Out of Beakers. And Sunday she had us all again. And people said oo but you have a real calling to children's work, Jazmine. And Jazmine said but not all the time, and she was going to have a rest and play the ocarina on Sundays. And they said couldn't she stick with it for a few more years, and she started to cry and said "no I can't stand the little buzzards anymore". At least I think that was what she said. It was hard to hear cos she was screaming a bit.

And then they said who would help Razzi run the Sunday Club from now on, and nobody said they would. And Razzi said she wouldn't run it on her own because it was against Child Protection so the children would all have to be in the Moot House all the time for Sunday service.

And then all the other people started to cry.

And then Burton said why not get all the children to learn the ocarina, and then Jazmine could teach the ocarina for most of the service, and then we could come in and play the last song on the ocarina. And then Burton started shouting "ow ow ow ow" and then Jazmine said oh dear now I've broken all the ocarinas.

So now on Sunday we've got to sit in the Children's Corner with the broken toys and bits of lego which my brother Charlesley sticks up his nose. And the bits of jigsaw puzzle and flannelgraph and old books with pictures of Bible stories. And we can't take in our phones or Wii U and we have to be quiet.

But we will be in the Church all the time.

Does that mean we won't be the Church of the Future anymore? Does that mean we are now the Church of Now? I wonder if that will be different?

The Perils of Driverless Cars

Some newspaper in Hinckley - which is basically a place on A5 signposts - is very worried about driverless cars.

Not that they might not respond to complex road conditions. Not that drunk people might get behind the wheel, assuming the car will get them home on the basis of the farmers' donkeys of old. Not that they won't react correctly when an emergency situation requires a genuine breaking of the law - for example on a crowded junction with an ambulance trying to get through.

Oh, no.

"There are fears driverless cars could clog the roads because they would be too timid at roundabouts and would follow the Highway Code to the letter, meaning they would crawl behind cyclists before it is clearly safe to overtake."

That's right. The problem with driverless cars is they might not illegally risk the lives of cyclists to make journey times approximately 5 seconds shorter.

In Hinckley, at least, the journalist-free newspaper is well overdue.

Twelve more Years of Winter

Bad news on all fronts, this Imbolc.

First up, Hnaef's "Parade of Lactating Ewes". Disaster. Broke down the hedge and chased poor Marston Moretaine all the way to Aspley Guise. Don't know what it is about Marston. He must have a sheepy smell.

Then, in lieu of a groundhog, we dragged the earless Beaker Bunny out to predict how the weather's gonna be for the next six weeks. She savaged poor Marston, as he dragged himself back from Aspley. She's never good-tempered when disturbed. And I reckon Marston must have a bit of a rabbity smell.

Anyway, Beaker Bunny turned out to have eight shadows, which gave us much to reflect on. Mostly because we realised you're supposed to do the whole Groundhog thing outside, where the Moot House floodlights don't cause confusion.

And then, while we were debating what 6 weeks times 8 shadows are, our old friend Jadis turned up and told us that, in the event she holds the balance of power after May and goes into coalition with the Tories, it will be always winter but never Christmas. Then she went off laughing. But not until after she'd turned Marston to stone.

Poor old Marston. I think he must have a faun-y kind of smell.

When the Person Who Really Wanted to be Welcomer Got the Job

Hello - lovely to see you!

I'm Amie, and I'm here to ensure you've got everything you need. Have you been to St Martha's before? You'll need a hymnbook, and the extra sheet. You don't really need any of the tax paperwork just yet - but obviously we hope you'll come here again. We're a really friendly fellowship.

Do you live in Little Tremlett? That's wonderful. Have you lived here long? And what's your name, young man? And your sister? Do you go to Great Tremlett School? You must have met my friend - she's a dinner lady. That's right - Aggie. Do you know if her phone is working at the moment? Oh.

And - I hate to ask, but just so I don't come across as all clumsy and insensitive later - are you married? Oh. That's great. I just wondered, as you don't look like little Danny. Remarkable. Do you have a lot of recessive genes in your family? Just asking - no offence.

I've been coming to St Martha's for nearly six weeks now. I moved here from Luton. Yes, Luton's lovely, but they're unfriendly people. Every time I walked down George Street, everybody was diving into shop doorways. You can't believe in a town that big that everybody would be so afraid of talking to other people. But in Little Tremlett, everybody seems so friendly. Although I'm worried that the beer they sell at the "Half Moon" must be quite strong. People always seem to be falling into hedges when I see them out in the street.

I'm here every Sunday, of course. Although I've got a week off in April. I'm hoping to go to Bournemouth with my husband. No, I'm not married. But I've got my eye on Rodney. Yes, he's a regular attender. Although it doesn't look like he's here today. I wonder where he is? I promised him last week that I'd make sure I always sit in his pew. He was ever so happy. Happy inside. He's a quiet type.

Anyway, anything you want to know - just ask. I'll keep an eye out in case you don't understand anything, or you're standing up or sitting down at the wrong time. Don't worry. I'll be watching you. Very carefully.....

Candlemas

In a traditionally Beaker piece of Christian/authentically traditional compromise, we are celebrating Candlemas today and Imbold tomorrow. Bad news for St Brigid, who will have to be transferred somewhere else. But then if you have your birthday on a major feast day, this sort of thing is gonna happen. It's a bit like having your birthday on Xmas day. But without the only-one-present problem, of course.

So the good news for me is I get to be all waffly about my favourite bit of scripture. And the bad news for Hnaef is that it's his job, tomorrow, to obtain a lactating ewe. And wonder how it fits in liturgically.

The essence of revisiting Scripture, re-reading it, is its re-application. We know the story until we know it and it knows us. With the feast at the other end of the Nativity Cycle, this is a problem. It's been so read, so repeated in Nativity Play and 9 Lessons And Carols, so sung, so provided 3-part specials of Only Fools and Horses, that we think we know it when we don't. It's been gift-wrapped, gilt-edged, recycled as imaginary Pagan feasts, blinged and glittered until we, like archaeologists, have to dig our way through the Little a Drummer Boy, Slade and It's a Wonderful Life strata, knock off the coating of Dickens and chocolate, and peer down to see what's there.

Whereas Candlemas doesn't have this problem. This is where the Messiah - having been revealed to the outcasts on the hillside - is now revealed to faithful Israel. And nobody makes a great song and dance about it - there among the Temple precincts, without a hint of snow or reindeer.

Simeon, you had one job to do. One simple job. To wait and be faithful. And now you're old and maybe your eyesight is failing, and yet it seems your faith isn't. And now here you are - gazing into the eyes of a special one. The priests, in their bustle of endless sacrifice, haven't noticed. Yet the whole world lays in your arms, as you look down at that baby. As your time ends, his is beginning - and with him will come the salvation of the world. Your eyes have seen the salvation - you have seen that the Lord saves. You had one job to do. You've done your one job. 

And Anna, you too - you've waited and prayed and been thankful. And maybe, knowing what Simeon was doing, you've caught on his coat-tails and wondered what he will see. And in your faithfulness you've served the Lord. And now - the one enthroned between the cherubim is enthroned in your old companion's arms. You have been faithful Israel - waiting for the true God to appear in his temple  - and here he is. The Shekinah is now the flesh of this human baby - revealing, yet also concealing, the God of Israel.

You've done your jobs. You've waited and seen the day of the Lord - not as a mighty king, but as the most potent, powerful, beautiful thing there is - a baby. You can go in peace, according to His word.

Nativity of Peter Sallis (1921)

Beaker Folk assemble in Liturgical Dress [ie two vests, shirt, sweater, waistcoat, suit jacket and raincoat. If it's a warm day.]


Archdruid: Cracking cheese, Grommit!

All: Mmm Wensleydale!

Archdruid: How you all keeping?

All: Bowel's playing up. God moves in mysterious ways.

Archdruid: You've got to remember, Compo, that Cyril's a Tory, and Tories can't stand it if you're filthy and obscene.

All: That's what the Labour Party's for.

Hnaef:  Wives never understand. They don't understand the masculine urge to test oneself to the limits in some alien environment.

All: That reminds me. I must go to the post office.

Blamire: It's an open question, life. Anything's possible. I mean, what do we really know about anything?

Clegg: Maybe we're already dead.

Compo: Tha what?

Clegg: Maybe we had to die to get here, from some other place.

Compo: Ah, give us a fag afore I get headache.

Blamire: So this is Heaven then. Or the other place.

Clegg: Well, it can't be the other place.

Blamire: Why not?

Clegg: In Yorkshire? Be further south, wouldn't it?

Beaker Folk file off into the hills, pushing bikes, baths, inflatable swans, motorised salad-strainers and mobile hot drink vending machines.