"Doug's blog" (which is how I shall refer to it from now on, as it saves my archive going out of date every time he renames it) reflects on the fact that a sudden change doesn't necessarily change everything. This doesn't just apply to attitudes to the new Archbishop of Canterbury, of course. The charities that care for our health like to use this time of year to encourage us to think about the state of our bodies as, bloated and fragile from cubic metres of turkey and roast spuds, unable to see straight and shaky of hand and wallet, we look, blood-shot at the new year and wonder if we're going to make it. With that sort of a start, we all swear to drink less, decide to eat less, use our last 400 quid of overdraft to sign up for a year at the gym and then, overcome by all that effort, consume the remaining Bailey's to give us moral strength.
I believe it was the poets Banks, Rutherford and Collins who said "there's a time in between the two - the old year's gone but it's not the new". Here at the Beaker Folk, we like to think we live in a liminal space. A "liminal space" is a threshold. And the whole point of crossing a threshold is that nobody actually stands in a threshold - you'd get your fingers trapped in the door, apart from anything else. You've either got to come in or stay out - stop standing there, on the step - you're just letting the draught in! Shut the bloody door NOW!
Sorry, I don't quite know what happened there. Some regression to my parent's complaints when I was standing in liminal spaces as a child, I suspect. So we Beaker People like the idea of liminality. The power is all in the potential. You can't go actually making strides forward - for then Pandora's box is open, Schrodinger's cat is definitively either dead or alive, the bird has flown, the horse has bolted, the goose is cooked, and you're into the world of actually achieving something. Whereas as long as we hang, liminal, in a half-land between the old and the new - it's really quite exciting, quite invigorating, liberating and - above all - completely unchallenging.
So come and make a big step sideways with us. We'll never go very far. But, on the bright side, we'll never make promises we can't keep. If you want a vision, we can make sure it's a small one.
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
The New Year Liturgical Transfer Window Opens
And so we wake to the shattered dawn of the year that the Maya never dreamed we'd reach. Apart from the ones who are with us today, who will no doubt still be sleeping the sleep of the righteous (many of them being Catholics or Pentecostals) after last night's moderate but happy festivities.
And as the New Year Liturgical Transfer Window opens, I'm sketching out my plans. Obviously there will be some changes needed - after all, even the C of E is bringing in a new man up front.
Obviously my main aim early this year is to try and shore up the liturgical defence. While we've been scoring some good ritual goals so far this season, we're slack at the back. Last week, for example - Charlii and Daphne were lively up front, leading the "Little Pebbles All-Age Messy Informal Family Christingle from Scratch" - but we let we were leaking worshippers when it came to the Collection. What's the point of doing all that good work and then letting it all slip like that?
So I'm thinking that the old defensive pairing of Hnaef and Burton may need some new blood injected. I'm reckoning that Hnaef is still solid, if a bit inclined to bring people down with late tackles as the service wears on, but Burton's just not quick enough for the modern game. If I can bring in a newer, more mobile Treasury Steward, who can just concentrate on stopping people leaving without paying, then Burton can be more usefully be deployed on the Bench doing what he does best - counting the money.
Likewise, I do feel we're lacking a bit of tightness in the Procession. In the high-impact, Premiership Worship League we live in, the tea lights have got to be held straight - especially with Liturgical Dress Code from now until Imbolc being "lacy". And it's no good having people carrying the pebbles who just aren't up to it. The punters expect pebbles the size of kittens these days, where in the past they were happy with pebbles the size of pebbles. The boutrosifers therefore need to be stronger in the back. Wheeling pebbles up the front in a wheel-barrow is just not liturgical good-practice. Plus it's a fire hazard. Which is bad news when someone's holding the tea light crooked and there's a lot of lace around. Also, I'm renaming the boutrosifers to petradakifers. I'm no Greek expert, but I reckon it sounds more impressive.
One area I feel we've neglected, however, is pastoral work. Again, we've focussed on going forward to such a degree that we're in danger of missing out the essentials. To this end, Charlii and Hnaef are going to visit everybody who's ill, every day. Twice. And also Old Mr Presley, who lives on his own and rarely gets to services on account of being "all shook up" after his earlier life. I'd go and see them myself, but I'm sadly allergic to sick people.
The good news is that I think we've got the core of a strong squad. I don't see any need to tinker with the nucleus as such - Young Keith, Charlii, the Hnaefs and myself are doing very well, thank you. We're gonna stay just as we are.
And as the New Year Liturgical Transfer Window opens, I'm sketching out my plans. Obviously there will be some changes needed - after all, even the C of E is bringing in a new man up front.
Obviously my main aim early this year is to try and shore up the liturgical defence. While we've been scoring some good ritual goals so far this season, we're slack at the back. Last week, for example - Charlii and Daphne were lively up front, leading the "Little Pebbles All-Age Messy Informal Family Christingle from Scratch" - but we let we were leaking worshippers when it came to the Collection. What's the point of doing all that good work and then letting it all slip like that?
So I'm thinking that the old defensive pairing of Hnaef and Burton may need some new blood injected. I'm reckoning that Hnaef is still solid, if a bit inclined to bring people down with late tackles as the service wears on, but Burton's just not quick enough for the modern game. If I can bring in a newer, more mobile Treasury Steward, who can just concentrate on stopping people leaving without paying, then Burton can be more usefully be deployed on the Bench doing what he does best - counting the money.
Likewise, I do feel we're lacking a bit of tightness in the Procession. In the high-impact, Premiership Worship League we live in, the tea lights have got to be held straight - especially with Liturgical Dress Code from now until Imbolc being "lacy". And it's no good having people carrying the pebbles who just aren't up to it. The punters expect pebbles the size of kittens these days, where in the past they were happy with pebbles the size of pebbles. The boutrosifers therefore need to be stronger in the back. Wheeling pebbles up the front in a wheel-barrow is just not liturgical good-practice. Plus it's a fire hazard. Which is bad news when someone's holding the tea light crooked and there's a lot of lace around. Also, I'm renaming the boutrosifers to petradakifers. I'm no Greek expert, but I reckon it sounds more impressive.
One area I feel we've neglected, however, is pastoral work. Again, we've focussed on going forward to such a degree that we're in danger of missing out the essentials. To this end, Charlii and Hnaef are going to visit everybody who's ill, every day. Twice. And also Old Mr Presley, who lives on his own and rarely gets to services on account of being "all shook up" after his earlier life. I'd go and see them myself, but I'm sadly allergic to sick people.
The good news is that I think we've got the core of a strong squad. I don't see any need to tinker with the nucleus as such - Young Keith, Charlii, the Hnaefs and myself are doing very well, thank you. We're gonna stay just as we are.
Monday, 31 December 2012
Drayton Parslow's Non-New Year Message
Now is the time of year when traditionally some people come up with a New Year message. A sign of absolutely no humility, in my opinion. When most sensible people want to sit quietly, with a cup of weak tea, wondering precisely when the world is going to end, the last thing they want is a self-appointed New Year expert, either from the fields of religion, politics, science or Richard Dawkins, telling them what they should do with the New Year.
The fact is, the New Year is a calendrical nicety. If we had numbered the days sequentially, from the day of Our Lord's birth onwards, then there would be no concept of any cycles of nature. Things would become warmer, and then colder again, every 365 days or so - but we would recognise this simply as the way things are, not signifying anything of any great significance. We would have trouble recognising when Christmas and Easter were, but then here at the Bogwulf Fundamentalist Baptists we worry little about times and seasons - knowing that New Moon Festivals, in particular, dear as they are to the hearts of the Beaker Folk across the paddock, are not close to the Lord's heart.
And so this is not a New Year message. It is simply some sound advice. The first day of a year (or last of the previous one) is not especially auspicious - as one of Eileen's prophets once wrote, "the days they turn into years, and still no tomorrow appears". I have no idea what this means, but it may be relevant. But we should be ready to preach the Gospel "in season and out of season." the Gospel season starts on 1 January next year, and closes on 31 December, and we should not forget this. So these are the things I would advise any time of the year.
Firstly, stop it. You know what I'm talking about - and yes, it is thee that I address. Stop it. And that. That's not much better. In fact, it may even be worse. Try not to think about it. When I'm trying not to think about things, I find it best to sing Psalms. Maybe number 90 - which, after all, recommends we number our days, instead of rounding them up into years.
Secondly, do something more productive. If you stop doing that thing you knew you ought to stop, you will have more time to do something else. Sitting quietly is good, provided it is in a godly frame of mind, but if you find yourself thinking about the thing or things you should have stopped, then you should stop sitting quietly as well, and do something more profitable. Did I mention singing Psalms?
So there is my advice - as sound today, tomorrow and in the middle of next summer. Stop doing things you should stop - especially that. And do some things you should be doing. It is simple advice, but I hope it will serve you well. And a Happy Tomorrow to you.
The fact is, the New Year is a calendrical nicety. If we had numbered the days sequentially, from the day of Our Lord's birth onwards, then there would be no concept of any cycles of nature. Things would become warmer, and then colder again, every 365 days or so - but we would recognise this simply as the way things are, not signifying anything of any great significance. We would have trouble recognising when Christmas and Easter were, but then here at the Bogwulf Fundamentalist Baptists we worry little about times and seasons - knowing that New Moon Festivals, in particular, dear as they are to the hearts of the Beaker Folk across the paddock, are not close to the Lord's heart.
And so this is not a New Year message. It is simply some sound advice. The first day of a year (or last of the previous one) is not especially auspicious - as one of Eileen's prophets once wrote, "the days they turn into years, and still no tomorrow appears". I have no idea what this means, but it may be relevant. But we should be ready to preach the Gospel "in season and out of season." the Gospel season starts on 1 January next year, and closes on 31 December, and we should not forget this. So these are the things I would advise any time of the year.
Firstly, stop it. You know what I'm talking about - and yes, it is thee that I address. Stop it. And that. That's not much better. In fact, it may even be worse. Try not to think about it. When I'm trying not to think about things, I find it best to sing Psalms. Maybe number 90 - which, after all, recommends we number our days, instead of rounding them up into years.
Secondly, do something more productive. If you stop doing that thing you knew you ought to stop, you will have more time to do something else. Sitting quietly is good, provided it is in a godly frame of mind, but if you find yourself thinking about the thing or things you should have stopped, then you should stop sitting quietly as well, and do something more profitable. Did I mention singing Psalms?
So there is my advice - as sound today, tomorrow and in the middle of next summer. Stop doing things you should stop - especially that. And do some things you should be doing. It is simple advice, but I hope it will serve you well. And a Happy Tomorrow to you.
Blogging New Year Resolutions
It's that time of the year again. And although I know some would say that New Year Resolutions are a resort to works instead of grace - I say phooey. Therefore these are my Blogging New Year Resolutions for 2013. I hope I can stick to them.
1. I will not obsess over blog statistics (even though this post might make December 2012 my biggest-ever month for blog stats, if it's any good).
2. I will not retweet other people's RTs of my links.
3. I will not deliberately upset other people in order to improve my blog stats.
4. I will tell Young Keith to switch off the Feedjit display on the big-screen in the Moot House, and replace it with something useful like the cricket scores.
5. I will not measure my value in life as if it were the weight of my Klout rating. Nor my Tweet Grader rating.
6. I will be glad that ebuzzing seems to have given up its attempt to grade blogs (especially as it never gave me very good marks) - not that I've looked lately. I mean, ever.
7. I will not allow the Moot House to burn down this year. Unless I'm very short of material.
8. I will only post rambling introspection if the "burning-down the Moot House" seam has been completely mined out.
9. I will only tweet links to my own posts once. Unless they're really good, obviously, and it's clearly just that nobody else has noticed.
10. I will not express any views on same-sex marriage, no matter how much traffic they may drive.
Maybe I need some grace...
1. I will not obsess over blog statistics (even though this post might make December 2012 my biggest-ever month for blog stats, if it's any good).
2. I will not retweet other people's RTs of my links.
3. I will not deliberately upset other people in order to improve my blog stats.
4. I will tell Young Keith to switch off the Feedjit display on the big-screen in the Moot House, and replace it with something useful like the cricket scores.
5. I will not measure my value in life as if it were the weight of my Klout rating. Nor my Tweet Grader rating.
6. I will be glad that ebuzzing seems to have given up its attempt to grade blogs (especially as it never gave me very good marks) - not that I've looked lately. I mean, ever.
7. I will not allow the Moot House to burn down this year. Unless I'm very short of material.
8. I will only post rambling introspection if the "burning-down the Moot House" seam has been completely mined out.
9. I will only tweet links to my own posts once. Unless they're really good, obviously, and it's clearly just that nobody else has noticed.
10. I will not express any views on same-sex marriage, no matter how much traffic they may drive.
Maybe I need some grace...
Real-time Nativity Progress
That was an act of genius of Young Keith's, hacking his uncle the Policeman's old train set into a "Real-time Nativity Set". I just wish he'd thought of it before Christmas, so we could have had an express arrival of shepherds and the shining host. Still, there's always next year.
The Magi have just made their call at Jerusalem Central, encountered Herod and are now heading up the branch line to Bethlehem Halt. Their stop at Bethlehem is scheduled for Sunday - and all at a speed of four feet per day! It's a masterpiece of low voltages and accurate gearing. The Star is on the front of the loco, so they're gonna follow it wherever it goes.
Meanwhile the shepherds are backing very slowly away from Bethlehem and back up into the hills. While the people of Zebulun and Naphthali are still going round in circles in their tunnel. It's got theology, scripture and fully-automatic points. Which is why Burton Dasset won't leave the Moot House now for hours on end.
Keith does have me worried, though. If he continues with his intention to map out the whole of the Gospel story in a train set, we're going to be tripping over Bible Characters sat on Flying Scotsmen, 125s and Gordon the Big Engine for months to come. I'm going to have to think through the Health and Safety implications of all this.
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Interim Arrangements During the Absence of An Archbishop of Canterbury
So the sad news is that Rowan Williams is retiring as Archbishop of Canterbury today. While the exciting news is that Justin Welby will be enthroned as the new one on 21 March (appropriately Druidic, in my opinion). (Edit - I have it on good authority that he actually becomes the Archbishop of Canterbury on 4 February, on his Confirmation of Election).
But who's in charge in the meantime? The answer lies in an ancient manual, of which the Beaker People have the only copy. In it, the period between Archbishops is described in similar terms to the old "Lord of Misrule" traditions in English folklore. And the good news is we translated relevant passages from the Little Geste de St Anselm into modern English before we "lost" it. So here's the official low-down on how to keep the show on the road:
1. Anyone grabbing a mitre and heading into Canterbury Cathedral can be "Bishop for the Day". This gives you the right, for 24 hours, to offend other provinces of the Anglican Communion in any way you see fit. Of course, Synod will continue to ignore anything you say, regardless.
2. Just like a normal interregnum at parish level, this is the church's chance to completely reorganise everything. You've got 3 months to start using Latin (or, according to choice, Syriac or Klingon) in masses, introduce women bishops, swear-in feline sidespeople (or sidecats), merge with the Unitarians, and bring in new festivals for the nativities of George Clooney and Eric Bristow. When the new Archbishop starts, you all swear blind it's always been like this, and it's exactly how Rowan left it.
3. Somebody will suddenly decide it's their job to make sure everything keeps going. In a church setting it'll normally be the person that always wanted to be Churchwarden but knew they wouldn't get elected. However in this case, it'll probably be Giles Brandreth.
4. If you're the first person to get hold of a Telegraph or Mail reporter after a news story breaks, you are entitled to present yourself as the holder of the opinion of "The Church of England". Feel free to say whatever drivel you like. It will all be reported as if the C of E is a monolithic bloc of people with exactly the same views.
4. While no-one's looking, why not redraw the diocesan boundaries? Hack off bits from Ely, Peterborough and St Albans to create a new job for the "Bishop of Fenland". If there isn't one already, there really should be. Make sure he has a flat mitre, in keeping with the post.
But who's in charge in the meantime? The answer lies in an ancient manual, of which the Beaker People have the only copy. In it, the period between Archbishops is described in similar terms to the old "Lord of Misrule" traditions in English folklore. And the good news is we translated relevant passages from the Little Geste de St Anselm into modern English before we "lost" it. So here's the official low-down on how to keep the show on the road:
1. Anyone grabbing a mitre and heading into Canterbury Cathedral can be "Bishop for the Day". This gives you the right, for 24 hours, to offend other provinces of the Anglican Communion in any way you see fit. Of course, Synod will continue to ignore anything you say, regardless.
2. Just like a normal interregnum at parish level, this is the church's chance to completely reorganise everything. You've got 3 months to start using Latin (or, according to choice, Syriac or Klingon) in masses, introduce women bishops, swear-in feline sidespeople (or sidecats), merge with the Unitarians, and bring in new festivals for the nativities of George Clooney and Eric Bristow. When the new Archbishop starts, you all swear blind it's always been like this, and it's exactly how Rowan left it.
3. Somebody will suddenly decide it's their job to make sure everything keeps going. In a church setting it'll normally be the person that always wanted to be Churchwarden but knew they wouldn't get elected. However in this case, it'll probably be Giles Brandreth.
4. If you're the first person to get hold of a Telegraph or Mail reporter after a news story breaks, you are entitled to present yourself as the holder of the opinion of "The Church of England". Feel free to say whatever drivel you like. It will all be reported as if the C of E is a monolithic bloc of people with exactly the same views.
4. While no-one's looking, why not redraw the diocesan boundaries? Hack off bits from Ely, Peterborough and St Albans to create a new job for the "Bishop of Fenland". If there isn't one already, there really should be. Make sure he has a flat mitre, in keeping with the post.
5. Sell off a cathedral. Not a big one, obviously. Just a little one, which nobody will notice is missing. If there was an Archbishop around, he'd want to know about it. But for the next few months, this sort of thing will be delegated to the Property Committee. Spend the money on decent coffee for all churches for the next 50 years.
6. Declare war on a smaller denomination. I know churches don't fight wars much any more, but surely even the C of E can beat the Quakers? They're pacifists, after all.
7. Make the Church Commissioners take out all their investments, give half to a sensible charity, and spend the rest on copes, doilies, Moog synthesisers and Badger Tanglefoot beer. Sure, it'll be bad news for retired clergy. But it's gonna be a heck of a three months.
8. After ten years of people moaning he's too liberal / conservative / incomprehensible / bearded, after 21 March next year, Rowan Williams will officially be a saint whose every word was a long-pondered gem, and every move a strategic, prophetic masterpiece. This has never really worked for George Carey, mind you.
9. Don't forget the Queen is Supreme Governor. You're all gonna look awful sheepish if you go too far, and she makes the class stay in at lunchtime till the miscreants own up to moving Westminster Abbey to the Isle of Dogs for a laugh.
10. Try not to get into an argument about sex. You can save that until there's someone in charge again.
10. Try not to get into an argument about sex. You can save that until there's someone in charge again.
The Nativity - the closing credits roll
The Shepherds - In an unlikely pun-based co-incidence, opened Judea's first 24-hour hosiery laundry.
King Herod - appointed Roman Empire Peace Envoy to the Middle East.
The Magi - Arrested as illegal immigrants, spent nine months in a detention centre before going back to their own country a different way (handcuffed to members of the Judean Borders Agency).
The Little Drummer Boy - after successfully getting his own song about attending an event he wasn't at, went on to captain Chelsea.
Joseph - Lived in constant fear of an argument with his step-son's father. Who was, genuinely, bigger than he was.
Blessed Virgin Mary - Despite no education, being of an insignificant family and a single mother, went on to become Queen of Heaven. Simon Cowell livid, as she had a fantastic back-story, yet he had no way of being able sort out a record deal.
The Holy Innocents - Innocent, and yet the powerless victims. Always remembered - and yet never heeded.
The Christ-child - Innocent, holy, God-loving, caring for the poor and helpless, incapable of any wrong. Was killed for being an affront to polite society.
King Herod - appointed Roman Empire Peace Envoy to the Middle East.
The Magi - Arrested as illegal immigrants, spent nine months in a detention centre before going back to their own country a different way (handcuffed to members of the Judean Borders Agency).
The Little Drummer Boy - after successfully getting his own song about attending an event he wasn't at, went on to captain Chelsea.
Joseph - Lived in constant fear of an argument with his step-son's father. Who was, genuinely, bigger than he was.
Blessed Virgin Mary - Despite no education, being of an insignificant family and a single mother, went on to become Queen of Heaven. Simon Cowell livid, as she had a fantastic back-story, yet he had no way of being able sort out a record deal.
The Holy Innocents - Innocent, and yet the powerless victims. Always remembered - and yet never heeded.
The Christ-child - Innocent, holy, God-loving, caring for the poor and helpless, incapable of any wrong. Was killed for being an affront to polite society.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
A Quick Seasonal Reminder to Church Leaders
To all ministers (lay or ordained, pastoral, worship-leading, preaching or otherwise) - a quick reminder.
I know many of you will have been wandering around unsure what day it was, due to having too many services on Monday and/or Tuesday. Especially if you're an unpaid church-leader-type person, you may well have had the week off work ever since, and - with the familiar school / work / dole office / post office cycles absent, it's easy to get confused. After all, with all the "TV Classics" you'll have seen over the last few weeks, you may well believe it's 1974. Even the normal TV programmes will have been off their schedules. And even those church ministers who've had the odd funeral/visit over the last few days will have lose touch on the actual day of the week. Well, it's Sunday tomorrow and, with the exception of those paid clergy types who head for the nearest sea or airport as soon as the Mass of the Dawn is finished Christmas Day, you're going to have to go into the 8am /9.30 /10am /11.30 / Evensong or all of the above in some cases, and do whatever it is you do.
Now, doing things right in Church is going to seem a bit strange after all the Christingles, 9 Lessons and Chickens and Solstice Singalongs. So here's a quick check list for you to try and help you adjust:
1. If leading worship in a more formal setting, you should ideally be wearing some kind of typically worship-leading gear (smart suit / dog collar / chasuble / that kind of thing). Except in certain extreme forms of Fresh Expression, a onesie in the form of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is almost certainly wrong.
2. Before taking too much care over number (1), just make sure you know who you are, so you can get the dress code right. If you've a posh, commanding voice but a secret need to be loved, you're probably the vicar. If you're going to be preaching your sermon of the year, which you've been working on since last New Year, you're a Lay Preacher and the regular minister is off for their post-Xmas break. If you've a frustrated urge to thrown people out of church, you'll be a steward or Churchwarden. If the latter, the onesie's probably fine.
3. If you turn up and nobody else does, don't panic. Check the plan / rota / smartphone calendar. It's possible that everyone else has simply taken the day off because they've nothing official to do (see number 10). In which case, rejoice that millions of millions of angels, saints and martyrs are still joining you. But figure they probably won't need your sermon - they're in a much better position to judge the rights and wrongs of things than you are, and won't need your advice.
4. If you're in the right church, you can hear singing, but you can't see anybody in the congregation, you're probably facing the wrong way. This kind of confusion can set in at this time of year.
5. Try not to express too much delight that "now we can all get back to normal". People like wonder, special-ness and awe, and many don't like the magic to stop. Normal's OK, but you can have too much of it.
6. The Three Kings should be 47% of the way from the box where they're kept to the Crib. If this means they're creeping up the aisle like Weeping Angels, all the better. Tell the congregation not to blink. And especially to keep their eyes open during the sermon.
7. If you're down to preach, it may be impossible to work out what has been transferred where, and what the lectionary is trying to tell you. Try and produce something generic, cheerful and still-Christmassy as a sermon. Unless your church is dedicated to St Thomas Becket, or St Stephen, and you've decided tomorrow's the day, in which case don't.
8. Carols are still fine. Of course, after the last week, you'll be down to the ones nobody knows in a desperate search for novelty.Instead why not just try switching the tunes? "O Little Town of Bethlehem" to the tune of "House of the Rising Sun", for example - or "While Shepherds Watched" to "The Yellow Rose of Texas".
9. Try not to start drinking until lunchtime. You may have been starting with a quick G&T for breakfast since Boxing Day, but now's the time to show a bit of restraint.
10. Of course, if you have no official role in church, you can probably give yourself the day off. It's been a long week.
I know many of you will have been wandering around unsure what day it was, due to having too many services on Monday and/or Tuesday. Especially if you're an unpaid church-leader-type person, you may well have had the week off work ever since, and - with the familiar school / work / dole office / post office cycles absent, it's easy to get confused. After all, with all the "TV Classics" you'll have seen over the last few weeks, you may well believe it's 1974. Even the normal TV programmes will have been off their schedules. And even those church ministers who've had the odd funeral/visit over the last few days will have lose touch on the actual day of the week. Well, it's Sunday tomorrow and, with the exception of those paid clergy types who head for the nearest sea or airport as soon as the Mass of the Dawn is finished Christmas Day, you're going to have to go into the 8am /9.30 /10am /11.30 / Evensong or all of the above in some cases, and do whatever it is you do.
Now, doing things right in Church is going to seem a bit strange after all the Christingles, 9 Lessons and Chickens and Solstice Singalongs. So here's a quick check list for you to try and help you adjust:
1. If leading worship in a more formal setting, you should ideally be wearing some kind of typically worship-leading gear (smart suit / dog collar / chasuble / that kind of thing). Except in certain extreme forms of Fresh Expression, a onesie in the form of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is almost certainly wrong.
2. Before taking too much care over number (1), just make sure you know who you are, so you can get the dress code right. If you've a posh, commanding voice but a secret need to be loved, you're probably the vicar. If you're going to be preaching your sermon of the year, which you've been working on since last New Year, you're a Lay Preacher and the regular minister is off for their post-Xmas break. If you've a frustrated urge to thrown people out of church, you'll be a steward or Churchwarden. If the latter, the onesie's probably fine.
3. If you turn up and nobody else does, don't panic. Check the plan / rota / smartphone calendar. It's possible that everyone else has simply taken the day off because they've nothing official to do (see number 10). In which case, rejoice that millions of millions of angels, saints and martyrs are still joining you. But figure they probably won't need your sermon - they're in a much better position to judge the rights and wrongs of things than you are, and won't need your advice.
4. If you're in the right church, you can hear singing, but you can't see anybody in the congregation, you're probably facing the wrong way. This kind of confusion can set in at this time of year.
5. Try not to express too much delight that "now we can all get back to normal". People like wonder, special-ness and awe, and many don't like the magic to stop. Normal's OK, but you can have too much of it.
6. The Three Kings should be 47% of the way from the box where they're kept to the Crib. If this means they're creeping up the aisle like Weeping Angels, all the better. Tell the congregation not to blink. And especially to keep their eyes open during the sermon.
7. If you're down to preach, it may be impossible to work out what has been transferred where, and what the lectionary is trying to tell you. Try and produce something generic, cheerful and still-Christmassy as a sermon. Unless your church is dedicated to St Thomas Becket, or St Stephen, and you've decided tomorrow's the day, in which case don't.
8. Carols are still fine. Of course, after the last week, you'll be down to the ones nobody knows in a desperate search for novelty.Instead why not just try switching the tunes? "O Little Town of Bethlehem" to the tune of "House of the Rising Sun", for example - or "While Shepherds Watched" to "The Yellow Rose of Texas".
9. Try not to start drinking until lunchtime. You may have been starting with a quick G&T for breakfast since Boxing Day, but now's the time to show a bit of restraint.
10. Of course, if you have no official role in church, you can probably give yourself the day off. It's been a long week.
A Christmas Wordle - The Answers
Firstly, for those who've forgotten it - here are the questions.
And the answers are...
Friday, 28 December 2012
The "It's Still Christmas" Service
Archdruid: We sing our first song, Yule Never Walk Alone.
All: Isn't that a bit Christmassy?
Archdruid: Well it is still Christmas.
All: Yes, you're right - it is still Christmas. Mine's a sherry.
Confession:
All: We confess we've forgotten it's still Christmas. We've started to leave the lights off on the Moot House. We've taken to kicking the singing snowmen on the drive as we walk past. We've been tempted to take the Tree down the dump. And there is no elf in us.
Hymn: Brightest and best of the LEDs of the evening
All: Isn't that a bit Christmassy?
Archdruid: Well it is still Christmas.
All: Yes, you're right - it is still Christmas. Mine's another sherry.
Santa: Ho-ho-ho!
All: Your time's past, though, big man. Get back in your box!
Santa: Oh. Oh...... Oh.
Hymn: "Somewhere over the rainbow".
All: Isn't that a bit Christmassy?
Archdruid: Well it is still Christmas.
All: Yes, you're right - it is still Christmas. I'll skip the sherry, though. My stomach's playing up....
Archdruid: And so, in reverence and wonder, we turn to our crib scene - gaze in awe on the baby with his mother and Joseph; the sheep, cows, asses, oxen, alligators, spacepeople-come-travelling and zebras.
All: That's all very well - but where's the Magi?
Archdruid: They're still in the loft..
All: The loft? What are they doing there?
Archdruid: Well, it is still Christmas.
All: And also with Yule.
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Top 10 Christians on Social Media by Shoe Size
1. Tall_rich - Size 12
1= Hnaef - Size 12
2. David Lewis - Size 9
3. @littlewarrior - Size 8.5
4. Ian Piper - Size 8
4= Phil Ritchie - Size 8
5. Eddie Arthur - Size 7 (but don't ask about the waist size)
6. Batty Towers - Size 6.5
7. Rev Jean Size 6
8. Dr Bex "@drbexl" Lewis - Size 6
9. The Vicar's Wife - Size 5.5
10. Archdruid Eileen - Size 5 (although she threatened me with a cricket bat not to say size 11)
1= Hnaef - Size 12
2. David Lewis - Size 9
3. @littlewarrior - Size 8.5
4. Ian Piper - Size 8
4= Phil Ritchie - Size 8
5. Eddie Arthur - Size 7 (but don't ask about the waist size)
6. Batty Towers - Size 6.5
7. Rev Jean Size 6
8. Dr Bex "@drbexl" Lewis - Size 6
9. The Vicar's Wife - Size 5.5
10. Archdruid Eileen - Size 5 (although she threatened me with a cricket bat not to say size 11)
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