An Experimental Form of Blessing for People Who Like to Expand on the Normal Ones

And May Peace and Blessing be with you
And those whom you love
And those you're merely fond of
And those you don't have much time for, really, but we ought to remember them out of charity
And those that you hate
And those you'd destroy
The bloke who gave you a funny look at the bus stop this morning but you'd not given him a second thought till now
The people currently going through Junction 13 of the M1
Facebook friends
All the Facebook Friends whom you don't care if you ever see them again or not
All the sock puppets on Twitter
People whom you've never met
Dead people
People who aren't born yet
People who are never even gonna be conceived
All sentient animals
(especially any we might eat at any point in the future)
Small pink furry creatures from Alpha Centauri
The cast of "Glee"
and everyone in Palau
and other potential "Pointless" answers
Now and forever.

Amen.

Welcome to Church

Over the last few weeks we have had quite a few visitors and new Beaker Folk around the Moot House. Maybe a bit of housekeeping needed on our welcoming techniques, I reckon.

First up, can I remind everyone about the good practice shown in the Perfect Church Welcoming Leaflet.  But if we could just learn from the last months' experiences?

Remember that woman who came in at the end of April? The one you all greeted when she came in? She described it as "like Shaun of the Dead". This is not good.

Well done to Shona. She saw Ranwulf heading purposefully towards the young woman who wandered in last week. That very attractive woman. I now Ranwulf is still complaining about the broken hip he suffered when Shona rugby-tackled him to the ground. I think that hip was a price worth paying.

Now on the subject of diversity. We are a welcoming and accepting congregation. We welcome people of all faiths and nuns. And likewise we are keen to welcome people from across the LGBTQIA. But whoever came up with that questionnaire, you shouldn't have. And whoever gave it to those new people to fill in, you really shouldn't have. Really, really, shouldn't. You don't have to be that welcoming. We had to get an expert in to explain some of those terms.

If people don't tell you where they live when you welcome them (and let's face it, why should they?) then following them home so you know where to post the Community magazine is also out.

Giving people earplugs on the way in may not be the best way of putting them into a good frame of mind for worshipping. Instead, keep them in reserve for when the Beaker Quire starts playing.

Yes, saying somebody's name a couple of times is a good way to remember it. Saying in between 20 and 30 times in one welcoming conversation is really pushing the limits of obsessive. Especially when you squeal it.

Saying "what percentage chance is there you will be back next week?" at the end of the service is perhaps a little bit obsessive.

Likewise, refusing to give somebody an information leaflet on the grounds that "you won't come back - they never do" is perhaps suggesting a bit of defeatism in the situation.

Scanning people to see if they are secretly alien lizards is never welcoming. Even if we did catch two last week.

It's nice to give visitors - or regular members - gifts. Especially at this time of year. Primroses, tomato plants, lily flowers. But eggs and tomatoes? What made you think that was a good idea?

"Who Are My Mother and my Brothers?" Mark 3:20-35

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Mark 3:20-35

---

Thirty years ago, I had a dream. And Gabriel, aflame with glory, with eyes that have seen the wonder of the depths of space, told me I was favoured by God. And I was greatly troubled.

It was not easy. Joseph rejected me, for a while, It was a strange labour, in a foreign town, with odd visitors to the baby. At his blessing, I received a curse: "a sword will pierce your own heart".

But then it was easier. He grew in wisdom and the knowledge of the Lord. He was pious, eloquent, clever, funny. He saw things in new ways, spinning sermons from wheat and weeds, coins and parties.

That sword pierces now. He is the friend of sinners, the enemy of the scribes, He takes the Law, and completes it to keep it. He breaks the rules and throws out demons. He's talking about the end of the world - but saying it begins, and ends, with him.

I lost him once before. On the road from Jerusalem. He said then there was somewhere he had to be instead - his Father's house, not our's. He was surrounded by wise men then. Not the ones the wise men despise, like now.

I want him home. Out of the crowds, away from those hero-worshipping disciples. Away from the Magdalene - they say she had a demon. Far away from the prostitutes, the needy, the edgy, the lame. Back to where the grain of wood and the hammer of nails are all that matter - the life he was called to.

 Is he mad? The wise men say he has a demon. If he throws out demons, can he be what they say? I want to hug him, to hold him, But we can't get near him. They crowd around him - needing, touching, holding, listening. And when he knows we are here - "my mother and my brothers and my sister are those who do God's will". So am I not his mother? Has he rejected me? Forgotten me?

But my love runs deep, for my odd, eccentric first-born. I promised God I'd carry him. And now I'm here, I'll not let him leave me. Though his face is turned to Jerusalem, I'll follow him. I'll follow him to the ends of the world.

I held him in my arms before.

I'll hold him again.

Pieta - Giovanni Bellini

A Grammatical Thought Experiment on God's Gender

Greek has three grammatical genders: masculine, feminine, neuter.

So does German.

French has two, but masculine takes precedence.

Flemish - now this has always been too much for me - it's got either two or three, depending.

English has "he and she, "him and her" " for things that have clear genders - people, and animals that you know quite well. But for all other things it just uses "it". It's heading towards having no genders, though it's never gonna get there.

Can you imagine a language which uses "the" as a definite article, has "it" for all genders, and distinguishes between male and female parents by calling them "parent", and "who happens to be male/female" only if there happens to be a need to distinguish?

Yes, I can, too.

Festival of Tin Foil Trousers

Can Beaker Folk please note that, in consideration of the lightning threat, this morning's "Feast of Tinfoil Trousers" has been cancelled.

To be honest I can't remember what theological point this was making anyway. But we put Burton out in tinfoil trousers as a test-worshipper. And let's just say he won't be needing to wax his legs before his next big bike ride.

Above Us Only Sky

There's a not-much-noticed novelette by Thomas Hardy, called "Two on a Tower". It's a tale of star-crossed lovers, set against their nightly explorations of the depths of space via powerful telescopes. He knew how to tell a raunchy story, did Tommy H, when he put his mind to it.

There is a ghastly nature to space, when you have to face it. It's not as infinite as many think, except in the same way that the world is limitless - if you head round the equator in an easterly direction, you'll eventually come back to the same place. And the theories say there's a similar kind of feel to space. Not that you'd go right round its curvature, as if you're lucky the expansion will stay ahead of you. Depends how fast you go, I reckon.

Sorry. Got distracted.

Just been out watching the International Space Station go over. It's only about 200 miles or something up. But it's eerie watching it as it sails on silent wings around the old blue ball. Beyond it today were Jupiter and Venus - mere millions of miles away. The Andromeda Galaxy contains a trillion stars, and is two and a half million light years away. But it's local, all things considered.

If you get this far in musing as a Christian or Jew, there's only one thing that comes to mind, I reckon:

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
    the moon and the stars that you have established;
what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
    mortals that you care for them?

Psalm 8 is the context for a sense of abandonment, a horror of the vastness of space; a kind of holy shock as we realise just how small we are. As the prophet said, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist, but that's peanuts compared to space.

I like to think, if I ever got shoved into a Total Perspective Vortex (the possibility is remote, I realise) that when I saw a map of the Universe, in all its terrifying immensity, and in one tiny corner a little tiny sign saying "You are here" - that the place where I am, would be marked by a cross.

Not my cross. Somebody else's. The cross that says I may live in a mind-numbingly huge universe, and death may be inevitable, and the world may move with the cruelty that only the unthinking laws of Physics and chance can provide, and the meaning may - for a moment - be totally lacking. But I am not alone. Zaphod Beeblebrox survived the Vortex because the universe he was in, was built simply for him. And, deep down, I do believe that this universe I am in was built simply for the Word who gave the song of creation its grammar, died on a cross, and did it all for me. Not just for me. But for me as well.

It's big and empty and terrifying, the sky, innit? But it's beautiful and comforting as well.

The Correct Way to Address a Minister

After all the excitement over the right thing to call God, we have a new hot-button topic. What do you call a minister? Is it "Revd James Jones"; "Rev Jane Jones"; "Revd James";"The Rev Jones?"; "The Revd Joanie Jones"?

The answer is obvious. We should all call ministers "Father". Whether they're male or female. Just like God.

I Mentioned God Once, But I Think I Got Away With It

After the comment from UKViewer on the last post regarding mentioning God - or not -  I'm thinking that this really is the way to go.

After all, the things banned from pub discussions, so they say, are politics and religion. The thing you should never mention from the pulpit, they reckon, is money, in case you upset people.

I sometimes think the sense there is a bit lacking. Presumably the people who get upset if you talk about money fall into two groups:
1. People who can't afford to give a bit more.
2. People who can afford to give a bit more, but don't want to and would rather it wasn't mentioned. It's so vulgar, isn't it, money?

If this is so then I shouldn't mention the spiritual inspiration to be found in the view from high mountains, either. As this will upset people with vertigo, and also people who could go to the top of a mountain but can't be fagged with the walk.

I couldn't mention the wonders of God to be seen in a meadow, in the wild flowers and hedgerows and wildlife. In case I upset people with hay fever, and also people who don't like the countryside. What is wrong with people who don't like the countryside? Are they scared of sheep or something?

I'm sorry, I've lost my track. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Talking about God. Obviously we should be discouraging this. You know, people come to Church, they want to hear something funny; uplifting. They want some peace, to sing a hymn. Maybe they like the architecture. Or they have a thing about sitting in cold buildings. Maybe they are in search of a spiritual experience.

So the last thing they want is someone stood on a wooden box, telling them the logic of the Universe wants to be their friend. It's gonna scare them. They might read the Bible and find out these God persons expect certain kinds of behaviour. They might start to think about death, meaning, truth and other inconvenient concepts.

And you know how it is. Once you start talking about God as if God exists, you might think just saying God all the time is getting to be a bit samey and want to use a pronoun to refer to him/her/them.

And then you've had it.

No, if you want to avoid trouble in church, don't bring God into it, is what I say. After a 100 year trial, the PCCs of the Church of England have discovered that keeping God out of all discussion speeds things up, and has no effect on decision waking. Obviously it's hard to tell, as there's never been a control population, but still.

Now I just have to work on removing the politics.

Don't Mention the Deity

Apologies to everybody after yesterday's sermon.

I don't know how Charlii managed to do it, but in amongst the amusing anecdotes about Celestine's first words, left-wing politics, stories about anthropomorphic woodland creatures and dodgy economic theories, she accidentally mentioned God.

I'm really sorry for all the upset caused. Charlii has offered her resignation, but I've told her she is a much-respected member of the Druidic leadership and she must merely go on a 6-week re-education course.

She's young.

She'll learn.

The Social Media Hunger Games

The Daily Mail has quite a good record for showing helmet cam footage of cyclists being bullied and put in danger by motorists. I suppose it gives its readers a frisson of the dangers of the real world they often read of. You know, the real world outside suburbia where, if you read the Mail, scantily-dressed actresses are outnumbered only by Slovaks and illegal ISIS-supporting asylum seekers. And this goes for the latest Internet sensation, the owner of the Brew Cafe chain in South West London. That's not the independent Brew Cafe in Oxford, who are probably wishing they had a different name about now.

The best-rated comment on the Mail article currently is the Neanderthal who presumably thinks that a 50-year-old lookalike for a chubby Andy Parsons, apparently wearing a gimp suit and earphones to go for a drive in a Chelsea Tractor is some kind of role model. And so "Sonny Bill" of Lincoln gets top billing for telling us that he hates cyclists too. Presumably after pressing "Send" he sat there going "huh huh huh" for a bit then wondered why the man he could see in the mirror was staring at him a bit funny. Meanwhile the thousands who pressed "Like" went off to see if they could find their bottoms with both hands.

So what do we learn from this? Apart from that civilised people should avoid South West London and Lincoln, obviously? Well, I'm impressed with the BBC's "are you the hardest-working poor person in England" concept. It's been referred to as a kind of austerity Hunger Games. But I would point out that it's almost totally lacking in the composite bows, daggers and explosives that make the Hunger Games interesting.

So my proposal for the Hunger Games of Social Media is this. We get someone who liked Sonny Bill's post on the Mail, and almost any atheist commentor on the Guardian's "Comment is Free - Belief" page*.

We put the two of them in a room, put the cameras on them, and wait for either of them to saying anything showing signs of having been thought through and original. If this happens the one who wins it will be crowned "Media Monarch" and we let them out

It's gonna be boring TV for a few days, but I reckon one of them's eventually gonna get hungry and eat the other.

* I think my friend Tim commented on it once but I'm letting him off as he is capable of humour and independent thought. #notallatheists

Should God be referred to as a Woman?

... that Telegraph poll missed an option.

I've corrected it for them.

The Telegraph confuses Bishop Libby with God

And the result is....

"It doesn't matter what your opinion is. God is what God is. This is not a subject for a petition on the government website. You don't get a vote."

---

To clarify - this is not a criticism of calling God "Father". God is the one from whom all good fatherhood (and motherhood, for that matter) flow.