Good news. We've managed to resolve the issue with the drains and all the plumbing should now be working fine.
Bad news. Hnaef had been shaving his chest ready for the sun.
I apologise for telling you this.
Tuesday, 15 May 2018
Monday, 14 May 2018
Tebbs and Ipps - Norman Gets on His Bike Again
Norman Tebbit makes the Mail by telling us he's not attending worship at St Edmundsbury Cathedral because the Dean is a "Sodomite".
An ancient institution whose central tenets nobody believes in, that has no young members though it tries to act "hip" sometimes but is always embarrassing, the Conservative Party has had Norman Tebbit in its ranks for over 60 years.
Nigel Farage said he wouldn't be surprised if the head of the cathedral staff were a Sodomite. Thousands of immigrants try to get into this country every year and it's time we controlled our borders.
Meanwhile the Mail Online readers congratulate Tebbit on his believing what the Bible says. Well, what does the Bible say about Sodom?
Genesis 19 tells us that Sodom was destroyed because it was a hostile environment for visiting foreigners. While Ezekiel 16 says that the sin of Sodom was to be arrogant and unconcerned for the poor and needy.
Avoid Sodomites? I'm amazed Norman Tebbit's not calling for a Free Trade Agreement after Brexit.
An ancient institution whose central tenets nobody believes in, that has no young members though it tries to act "hip" sometimes but is always embarrassing, the Conservative Party has had Norman Tebbit in its ranks for over 60 years.
Nigel Farage said he wouldn't be surprised if the head of the cathedral staff were a Sodomite. Thousands of immigrants try to get into this country every year and it's time we controlled our borders.
Meanwhile the Mail Online readers congratulate Tebbit on his believing what the Bible says. Well, what does the Bible say about Sodom?
Genesis 19 tells us that Sodom was destroyed because it was a hostile environment for visiting foreigners. While Ezekiel 16 says that the sin of Sodom was to be arrogant and unconcerned for the poor and needy.
Avoid Sodomites? I'm amazed Norman Tebbit's not calling for a Free Trade Agreement after Brexit.
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews  is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
Thursday, 10 May 2018
Ascension Day
As happens every Ascension Day, I see Major James has forgotten they don't do the climbing on the roof in Tremlett any more.
It's one of those major rituals of Ascension Day. The complaint that people don't go up on the roof any more. This always seems to me to fall into two categories:
1. Nobody goes to the Ascension Day service any more because they have to go to work.
2. Except the sort of people that are best encouraged not to climb onto church roofs.
1. Nobody goes to the Ascension Day service any more because they have to go to work.
2. Except the sort of people that are best encouraged not to climb onto church roofs.
 |
| The Ascension: Hans Feibusch |
Ascension Day seems to be the forgotten major feast. This is probably down to it not being a secular holiday, and being on a Thursday. I know the Catholics sometimes like to experiment with moving to the weekend. But, like transferring the Annunciation out of Holy Week, this always seems wrong to me. There's a sense in divine chronology. It was on that day - none other - the 40th days of Easter that Jesus ascended. Those 40 days matter. That's 40 days of the risen Jesus with his disciples, walking this world as a new kind of human - like us but raised beyond death. One day for each day in the Wilderness after his baptism. One day for each year that the Children of Israel wandered. 40 days of completeness.
You know the problem I have with most depictions of the Ascension? They're all a bit airy-fairy. There's a certain naffness to them. I think especially of the Chapel of the Ascension at Walsingham, where the soles of our Lord's feet are disappearing into the cloud in the chapel ceiling. It's really hard to do an image of Jesus floating off into heaven with clouds and angels, without it getting a bit that way. Which is why I like this image so much. It has echoes of those Resurrection paintings where the guards are asleep and everyone's a bit confused. There's noise and movement and in the middle of it, an Ascension happening.
The Ascension is enormously important. It's the next stage in the story of restoration and renewal. God has become that tiniest thing, a newly-conceived human. God has known our double agony - birth and death. Forgiveness, atonement, unity of God with humanity - however you want to put it, our salvation has been achieved.This one human body has defeated death. And is fit to enter heaven. Forget the idea that the body, the world is evil and to be ignored. Forget the idea that you are to be saved "from" the earth. Heaven has opened and taken in a living human being. One with a body just like ours, and bearing our scars.
Now there's a time for waiting, till the Spirit is poured out. We will be renewed. We will be made like him.
Tuesday, 8 May 2018
About the Size of a Squirrel
And a happy Julian of Norwich's Day. The Beaker Saint par excellence. We can enjoy her hippie musings while being secretly glad we're not bricked into the wall of a church.
Now, years gone by have seen a terrible failure on the hazelnut front. For those of you who don't know about this (and I'll be honest you have simply no excuse), Julian had a vision of the whole of creation being about the size of a hazelnut. But her day is in May. And nuts are available in the autumn.
So after the anaphylaxis issues of using shelled hazelnuts from Waitrose in previous years, this year we decided to be prepared. We invested in a special "Hazelnut Room". Into its climate-controlled, air-cooled womb we put, last November, fully 10 bushels of the finest fruits of the Forestry Commission. And a few chestnuts. Figured they be nice, roasted. A little bit of Yule in May.
One word. Squirrels.
I regret to say that instead of rows of gleaming hazelnuts, all ready to be contemplated as symbols of the fragility of Creation and the loving hands of our compassionate God, we have a round dozen of the sleekest, most well-nourished squirrels you could imagine.
I'm not advocating anyone holds one of them and contemplates Creation. As John Cleese nearly said, contemplate that and you'll never light a tea light again.
I'm trying to think of what Julian might have had to say about squirrels. I'm sure it would have been wise, kind and godly.
Does anyone know the best way to cook them?
Monday, 7 May 2018
Faith and Summer Wine
The recent discussion about the average Poshness of Church of England Clergy has converged nicely with the re-awakening of the marvellous "Summer Winos" blog with the lads' review of "Dried Dates and Codfanglers." The intersection between the two being me wondering about the Summer Wine clergy.
There were a lot of them. Apart from the occasional one officiating at funerals or weddings.1
John Horsley's appearance in "Three Astaires" can stand for them all apart from one. Super-posh (with an incisively posh wife in Dilys Hamlett who could cut the glass in her front door with the scorn in her her voice). Just the one non-posh one. In the very first episode. The excellent Michael Stainton plays a proper Northern working-class vicar. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, he's the only vicar in the series actually to discuss faith - with Clegg.
There were fewer as time went by, of course. Between the early 70s and 2010, the English people lost their assumed link with the Church that bears their name. Maybe the gap with the posh people in the pulpits just became too obvious. Or more likely it was the working-out of the previous 70 years' retreat of faith. Foggy or Blamire could be default Anglicans, making it for "Church Parade". Clegg could discuss theology with the confidence of a forced attender at Baptist church teas.
And yet the Church carries on thinking. Hoping that "people will come in". Assuming that there's nobody there just because they're all busy at football or the car boot. I mean they may be. But the more important matter seems to be that we've lost a shared imagination. The Church doesn't share a language with ordinary people any more.
I don't have any answers. I'm just reflecting. Maybe the Church could do with fewer posh people fussing over or not to really rock up "One More Step Along the World I Go" to bring in the young people. And more vicars with Yorkshire accents, talking about God in the midst of real life.
1Never baptisms. There are no baptisms in the Last of the Summer Wine. Barely any babies at all. I often think to myself that in fact, with the exeption of Chip and Connie Simmonite, there is no sex going on anywhere in Holmfirth. Sure we know that Compo and Wesley were fathers. But the main characters are unmarried, widowed or divorced. The married men have wives who don't seem very interested in it. And, in the case of Jack Harry Teasdale, he doesn't seem that keen either. And if Pearl were going to sue for divorce from Howard on the grounds of adultery, she wouldn't find too much evidence.
There were a lot of them. Apart from the occasional one officiating at funerals or weddings.1
John Horsley's appearance in "Three Astaires" can stand for them all apart from one. Super-posh (with an incisively posh wife in Dilys Hamlett who could cut the glass in her front door with the scorn in her her voice). Just the one non-posh one. In the very first episode. The excellent Michael Stainton plays a proper Northern working-class vicar. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, he's the only vicar in the series actually to discuss faith - with Clegg.
There were fewer as time went by, of course. Between the early 70s and 2010, the English people lost their assumed link with the Church that bears their name. Maybe the gap with the posh people in the pulpits just became too obvious. Or more likely it was the working-out of the previous 70 years' retreat of faith. Foggy or Blamire could be default Anglicans, making it for "Church Parade". Clegg could discuss theology with the confidence of a forced attender at Baptist church teas.
And yet the Church carries on thinking. Hoping that "people will come in". Assuming that there's nobody there just because they're all busy at football or the car boot. I mean they may be. But the more important matter seems to be that we've lost a shared imagination. The Church doesn't share a language with ordinary people any more.
I don't have any answers. I'm just reflecting. Maybe the Church could do with fewer posh people fussing over or not to really rock up "One More Step Along the World I Go" to bring in the young people. And more vicars with Yorkshire accents, talking about God in the midst of real life.
1Never baptisms. There are no baptisms in the Last of the Summer Wine. Barely any babies at all. I often think to myself that in fact, with the exeption of Chip and Connie Simmonite, there is no sex going on anywhere in Holmfirth. Sure we know that Compo and Wesley were fathers. But the main characters are unmarried, widowed or divorced. The married men have wives who don't seem very interested in it. And, in the case of Jack Harry Teasdale, he doesn't seem that keen either. And if Pearl were going to sue for divorce from Howard on the grounds of adultery, she wouldn't find too much evidence.
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
Saturday, 5 May 2018
Toby Young Has Written Something
Toby Young has written something.
You don't know want to know what it is.
It will almost certainly be something that extrapolates from being a man who has been profoundly privileged all his life, extrapolating to assume that he understands everybody else. Whether that's profoundly unprivileged men who should probably be kept under close supervision, people who are just normal, or women.
If you read what Toby Young has written, you will wish you had not read it.
Thinking about it, you will then wish nobody reads it.
It may cross your mind to wonder why anybody would pay Toby Young to write what he has written. That would be a reasonable thought.
Toby Young has written something.
You really don't want to read it.
You don't know want to know what it is.
It will almost certainly be something that extrapolates from being a man who has been profoundly privileged all his life, extrapolating to assume that he understands everybody else. Whether that's profoundly unprivileged men who should probably be kept under close supervision, people who are just normal, or women.
If you read what Toby Young has written, you will wish you had not read it.
Thinking about it, you will then wish nobody reads it.
It may cross your mind to wonder why anybody would pay Toby Young to write what he has written. That would be a reasonable thought.
Toby Young has written something.
You really don't want to read it.
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
A Guest Sermon from Simon Jenkins
Our keynote sermon from our "Festival of the Church for the 20th Century"
"First of all I'd like to thank you for inviting me to preach on Psalm 14:1. Obviously I've not read the Bible in a while, as this would use valuable time that I could otherwise spend proving that I am, since Giles Fraser left, the Guardian's expert on religion for people of the right sort. Oh I know that Andrew Brown knows about religions and what have you. And has sympathy for those with any faith and nuns. But my opinion is more important because I've got my finger so much on the pulse.
As a man who has spent a lot of time working with heritage bodies, I have a wide experience of people who spend their leisure time in old buildings. And I have to say they are mostly just like me. Many of those old buildings are churches, of course. Which is why I know all about English religion. And I can tell you that the future of the Church in this country looks just like its present. Buildings where you have to find the key off someone who's living in what used to be the Post Office, which you visit in Saturdays with maybe a loveable old labrador.
But wait, Simon, you say - this view of Christianity in England you have just given is terribly lop-sided and misses out so much more! To which I have to admit you are right. It doesn't have to be a labrador. It could be a spaniel. But, in my opinion, which is of course utterly correct, this is a risk. Spaniels are excitable animals. Thrilled with the sight of a piece of stunning church architecture - a font, or something - they might relieve themselves on the church floor. Which would be a problem potentially when the parish council of Grinton-In-Swaledale or wherever gets its act together and converts the place to a children's ball park with attached welfare society for the widows of lead miners. You see, you didn't think it through. But don't worry. That's what I am for.
But it is really important to me that we don't just use church buildings as squash courts, velodromes, funplexes, leisuredomes or whatever else the parish council have the money and time to create. We must respect the traditional Sabbath observances of everyone that is just like me.
Sunday is a time for traditional, quiet reflection. For reading the Observer. And then going out for a lovely artisan meal, knocked up by the chef in the Manoir aux Quat' Evangélistes (formerly the Church of St James and St Oliver). There while eating our mignonette de poulet rotie petit duc a l'Anatole, we can consider the beauty of the architecture. The limpid beauties of the stained glass. We can reflect on the simple faith of those medieval worshippers, that raised these works to the glory of their non-existent God. And give thanks to ourselves for being cultured enough to know and savour all of this.
And so, to you Beaker Folk. I want you to consider the Guardian as the model for the Church of the Future. We have an outlook that is gentle, considerate. Middle class and ageing. Living on the glories of the past. And yet, in an attempt to appeal to young people - whoever they are - we have Owen Jones, as our youth worker. For churches may rise and fall. But the empowered being patronising endureth forever."
"First of all I'd like to thank you for inviting me to preach on Psalm 14:1. Obviously I've not read the Bible in a while, as this would use valuable time that I could otherwise spend proving that I am, since Giles Fraser left, the Guardian's expert on religion for people of the right sort. Oh I know that Andrew Brown knows about religions and what have you. And has sympathy for those with any faith and nuns. But my opinion is more important because I've got my finger so much on the pulse.
As a man who has spent a lot of time working with heritage bodies, I have a wide experience of people who spend their leisure time in old buildings. And I have to say they are mostly just like me. Many of those old buildings are churches, of course. Which is why I know all about English religion. And I can tell you that the future of the Church in this country looks just like its present. Buildings where you have to find the key off someone who's living in what used to be the Post Office, which you visit in Saturdays with maybe a loveable old labrador.
 |
| A Guardian reader considers the possible uses as an art gallery or car park for Toyota Priuses |
But wait, Simon, you say - this view of Christianity in England you have just given is terribly lop-sided and misses out so much more! To which I have to admit you are right. It doesn't have to be a labrador. It could be a spaniel. But, in my opinion, which is of course utterly correct, this is a risk. Spaniels are excitable animals. Thrilled with the sight of a piece of stunning church architecture - a font, or something - they might relieve themselves on the church floor. Which would be a problem potentially when the parish council of Grinton-In-Swaledale or wherever gets its act together and converts the place to a children's ball park with attached welfare society for the widows of lead miners. You see, you didn't think it through. But don't worry. That's what I am for.
But it is really important to me that we don't just use church buildings as squash courts, velodromes, funplexes, leisuredomes or whatever else the parish council have the money and time to create. We must respect the traditional Sabbath observances of everyone that is just like me.
Sunday is a time for traditional, quiet reflection. For reading the Observer. And then going out for a lovely artisan meal, knocked up by the chef in the Manoir aux Quat' Evangélistes (formerly the Church of St James and St Oliver). There while eating our mignonette de poulet rotie petit duc a l'Anatole, we can consider the beauty of the architecture. The limpid beauties of the stained glass. We can reflect on the simple faith of those medieval worshippers, that raised these works to the glory of their non-existent God. And give thanks to ourselves for being cultured enough to know and savour all of this.
And so, to you Beaker Folk. I want you to consider the Guardian as the model for the Church of the Future. We have an outlook that is gentle, considerate. Middle class and ageing. Living on the glories of the past. And yet, in an attempt to appeal to young people - whoever they are - we have Owen Jones, as our youth worker. For churches may rise and fall. But the empowered being patronising endureth forever."
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
Friday, 4 May 2018
Simon Jenkins Writes Drivel (#3 in an endless series)
Simon Jenkins tells us the Quakers are right, and we don't need God.
Now this isn't drivel yet. Which probably means a sub-editor wrote the strap line.
And he goes on to tell us of the importance of seeking peace regardless of one's belief or otherwise in divinity. And in the Beaker Folk, of course we agree. The important thing is the ritual and the collections. Belief is strictly optional. Albeit if the C of E were to take Simon Jenkins seriously you'd be seeking that silence among the pop-up libraries, Universities of the New Age, creches and doily -making facilities with which Simon Jenkins was proposing that Stalinist parish councils should fill the church buildings only 5 weeks ago.
So that's not the drivel. Nor is it because he praises Quakers who are nice, gentle, thoughtful people. These days.
No, the reason he's writing drivel is implying that the Quakers are in some way the cutting edge of a new religiosity, in line with the Zeitgeist. To put it brutally, the number of Quakers total in this country is very low in the tens of thousands if that. The C of E attendance is more like 700,000. Worldwide there are about 2.4 billion Christians, and 0.4 million Quakers. The Church worldwide is half Catholic, a third Protestant, with a growing proportion of Pentecostal/Charismatic churches.
To put it another way. Only someone writing with a liberal, atheist, Western, British outlook would think Quakerism is the future. Basically, Quakerism is to religion what the Guardian is to the media. Well meaning, nice but effectively irrelevant. Simon Jenkins is generalizing from himself to the universal.
The future of religion is either Muslim, or it's Bible - believing. It's not Simon Jenkins.
Now this isn't drivel yet. Which probably means a sub-editor wrote the strap line.
And he goes on to tell us of the importance of seeking peace regardless of one's belief or otherwise in divinity. And in the Beaker Folk, of course we agree. The important thing is the ritual and the collections. Belief is strictly optional. Albeit if the C of E were to take Simon Jenkins seriously you'd be seeking that silence among the pop-up libraries, Universities of the New Age, creches and doily -making facilities with which Simon Jenkins was proposing that Stalinist parish councils should fill the church buildings only 5 weeks ago.
So that's not the drivel. Nor is it because he praises Quakers who are nice, gentle, thoughtful people. These days.
No, the reason he's writing drivel is implying that the Quakers are in some way the cutting edge of a new religiosity, in line with the Zeitgeist. To put it brutally, the number of Quakers total in this country is very low in the tens of thousands if that. The C of E attendance is more like 700,000. Worldwide there are about 2.4 billion Christians, and 0.4 million Quakers. The Church worldwide is half Catholic, a third Protestant, with a growing proportion of Pentecostal/Charismatic churches.
To put it another way. Only someone writing with a liberal, atheist, Western, British outlook would think Quakerism is the future. Basically, Quakerism is to religion what the Guardian is to the media. Well meaning, nice but effectively irrelevant. Simon Jenkins is generalizing from himself to the universal.
The future of religion is either Muslim, or it's Bible - believing. It's not Simon Jenkins.
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
Thursday, 3 May 2018
Coffee-Making Rita
Thanks to all the people who have contacted me to let me know about the typo on the May newsletter.
Rita is a specialist barista and an expert in making coffee in the Portuguese style.
I've never met anyone called Rota, so I don't know why you're all recommending I meant her.
Rita is a specialist barista and an expert in making coffee in the Portuguese style.
I've never met anyone called Rota, so I don't know why you're all recommending I meant her.
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
Wednesday, 2 May 2018
A Poem for St Athanasius
The trinitarian theology of Athanasius
Was orthodox, not fallacious.
But how terribly nefarious
Was the heresiarch Arius.
Tuesday, 1 May 2018
The Morris Dancing Menace
Pleased to say we've rounded up the last Morris Dancer. Thank goodness. It was starting to get very messy.
We had the usual Beltane celebrations last night. And I'll be honest. After we all had a bit of a primal scream and then a few cider and rums, heated in beakers on the embers of the Wicker Person, it turned into a bit of a night.
Then woke up this morning to find the croquet lawn infested with Morris Men.
They're resilient little bleeders. The fire-hose and a few half-bricks removed most of them. But one snuck into the Moot House and claimed sanctuary by sitting on the Worship Focus table.
Problem you see. By being on that table, he became the Worship Focus. Not the focus of worship. But the thing that, by looking at, we learn something about God.
I'll be honest. An overweight real-ale-drinking Java programmer is not going to help me learn much about God. Except maybe that God's love is even greater than we imagine. But what can you do? We couldn't poke him with pointy sticks. He is protected by the rules of the Moot House.
So we switched all the taps on and flooded the building. Say what you like about Morris Men. But the hankies don't half weigh them down once they get wet. Abandoning the hankies, he legged it for the Orchard.
He was clearly hoping to hide in the hedges until the hunt died down. But as he snuck along, the bells on his ankles gave him away.
And now the pointy sticks were liturgically acceptable.
I've received my annual letter declaring war and threatening unending vengeance from Big Morris. I've filed it with all the rest. I guess it's same time next year.
We had the usual Beltane celebrations last night. And I'll be honest. After we all had a bit of a primal scream and then a few cider and rums, heated in beakers on the embers of the Wicker Person, it turned into a bit of a night.
Then woke up this morning to find the croquet lawn infested with Morris Men.
They're resilient little bleeders. The fire-hose and a few half-bricks removed most of them. But one snuck into the Moot House and claimed sanctuary by sitting on the Worship Focus table.
Problem you see. By being on that table, he became the Worship Focus. Not the focus of worship. But the thing that, by looking at, we learn something about God.
I'll be honest. An overweight real-ale-drinking Java programmer is not going to help me learn much about God. Except maybe that God's love is even greater than we imagine. But what can you do? We couldn't poke him with pointy sticks. He is protected by the rules of the Moot House.
So we switched all the taps on and flooded the building. Say what you like about Morris Men. But the hankies don't half weigh them down once they get wet. Abandoning the hankies, he legged it for the Orchard.
He was clearly hoping to hide in the hedges until the hunt died down. But as he snuck along, the bells on his ankles gave him away.
And now the pointy sticks were liturgically acceptable.
I've received my annual letter declaring war and threatening unending vengeance from Big Morris. I've filed it with all the rest. I guess it's same time next year.
| Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? Want to laugh at the church? Want to be secretly suspicious that the author has been sitting in your church committee meetings taking notes? Then Writes of the Church: Gripes and grumbles of people in the pews is probably the book for you.From Amazon, Sarum Bookshop, The Bible Readers Fellowship and other good Christian bookshops. An excellent book for your churchgoing friends, relatives or vicar. By the creator of the Beaker Folk. |
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