The Gibbon Moon Folk and the Blood Moon

The Gibbon Moon Folk are, on the surface, a simple bunch. Dedicated to the belief that the moon is eaten by a giant gibbon every month, they are constantly terrified at the time of the gibbous moon (from mishearing which they get their name). But normally they relax around full moon. when they believe things are safe.

Except when you get a blood moon. According to the Gibbon Moon Folk, a blood moon means the end of the world. The fact that these phenomena happen all the time, and so far the world hasn't ended, doesn't change their minds. All they've gotta hear is the words "Blood Moon" and immediately they believe that the Moon Gibbon has run amok and the moon is running with the blood of murdered Clangers. At which point they invariably run screaming into the woods and hide.

They're in the woods screaming as I write. They spend a lot of time terrified, and a lot of time freezing cold and getting scratched by brambles. But the Gibbon Moon Folk reckon the apocalyptic certainty is worth it. After all, they ask, how could anyone cope with the future? Much better to expect it all to end at any time. And next time, after all, probably really will be it.

Jesus is Risen - the Rest is Details

When we come to Church, is it about the community? The people with whom we meet, we worship, we rather badly, normally, try to love. Until they knew the truth, Peter, John and Mary Magdalene were a confused, broken trio - two of them went back off to bed, while Mary stayed at the tomb and wept. But since Jesus is alive, the community is meant to be on fire with the Holy Spirit. The whole Church is the body of Christ. Each person around us is Jesus to us - just as Mary thinks it is a gardener, in that tender and tragic moment in the garden, before she recognises who it really is. Jesus is risen - the rest is details.

And when we come to Church, is it so we can process the things that have happened to us? To reflect on the week? To try to lift up our hearts? To light a tea light to put prayer into a difficult situation? To have space and time to grieve or rejoice or pray? Mary went to the tomb to complete something. She was going to carry out the only remaining thing she could do for her dead Lord, her Rabbi. The adventure was over. No more hoping for a new state of Israel. No hanging out with Jesus, when the crowds had gone home after their fish and bread suppers, in the cool of the air round the lake, listening as he told his tales of the mysterious "kingdom" he was bringing in. No more puzzling over parables, waiting to find out what his deep meaning was. And yet, in the dark of the garden on the first day of the week, she discovers a whole new life, and a story of unimaginable joy, is actually ahead of her. The future is now open. Jesus is risen - the rest is possible.

And when you come to Church, is it to remember the dead? The dead so often surround us - if not physically beneath our feet, or in the graveyard, then on inscriptions on the walls and in the lights we light and the the thoughts we hold. Or there's the clinging onto a dead past - wanting nothing ever to change now, because the dead past is safe and cosy whereas the present is uncomfortable and the future is scary. Mary Magdelene went to the tomb, early on the Sunday morning.  She was marking the death of a prophet - the death of a friend. And, I guess, the death of a dream. After a whirlwind tour round Judea and Galilee, the fun was over. But the tomb is empty. The dead one has risen. She is filled, not with fear or gloom, but with joy. Jesus is risen - the rest is hope.

And when we come to Church, is it to hide ourselves away? It would be cool there at the tomb. The spices are aromatic. It's peaceful, here in the cemetery garden. Just Mary and the other women and their lost dreams, shut away from a world where the Romans have once again proved who's in charge. Where the money-sellers will be back at their stalls in the temple, like they'd not been thrown from the place a week ago. Doves will be sold and killed, the priests will get their share, the Pharisees will take the most respected seats at dinner parties, and the people will render unto Caesar what is Caesar's. But though the world has not changed on the surface, at its fundamentals everything has changed. Jesus is alive. The power of Rome and the Jewish state and the oppression of religion have been shown for the short-term shells that they are. Everyone who dies for Jesus will know that Jesus has conquered death. Every believer's tomb is a short-term stop, not a final resting place. And Jesus tells her - don't cling on here. Get out - tell my brothers. Tell them I'm on the move, and they need to be too. Church is not for hiding in buidlings and tombs - or at least, not as a long-term strategy. Jesus is risen - the rest is open before us.

And when we come to Church, is it in the belief that everything declines, nothing ever grows? Mary's there in the knowledge that today she can dress Jesus with spices. But in a few days she won't want to go in the tomb. And in a few years, according to Jewish custom, someone will return to take his bones, put them in an ossuary - a bone-box - recycle the space in the tomb for someone else and one more stage in Jesus's removal from the land of the living will be complete. But in that cool garden in the morning, when the sun is rising and the birds are starting to sing and creation is remade - at this time of year, when the Earth casts off the death of winter and is starting to glow with the colour of green and yellow, of leaves and buds and new life - Jesus stands before her and restores her hope. There's a story unfolding with the new leaves. It's the story of new life. For her, for the disciples, for Israel, for the people of the whole earth. For you, and me, and the places we live and the whole of creation. Because if Jesus is alive, and we are with him - then we will be made alive with him. We will be made in his image, as God took on ours. As he ascends to heaven, we will rise with him. And with us, the whole of the Creation which Jesus made, and for which he died. Jesus is risen - the world will rise with him.

So as you go about your Church life, your home life, your work life, things may often look as they always were. Illness is still illness. Arguments with your family or colleagues are still stress. The Government is still useless - at least, that's the best we can hope for. The cycles of life still go on. But the underlying nature of things is changed. The reasons we go to Church may be manifold - community, stillness, a hiding place, stability. But none of these really matter unless we realise that Jesus is alive among us. He is alive in the liturgy, the prayer, the bread and wine, the fellowship. Jesus is in each of you, and oddly enough also in me. He is alive, in the world. He is alive in our neighbours. He is alive today as he was on the Sea of Galilee, in the fields of Judea, in the Garden Cemetery. He is more alive than you or I. And he wants each of us to know his new life, poured out into every heart and overflowing in every life. Jesus is risen - the rest is joy.

Jesus is Risen

Everything else is the details.

Nicola Sturgeon - A Clerihew

Nicola Sturgeon
Is no relation of Charles Spurgeon

Instead of resurrection

She wants to do well in the election.

The Gospel According to Dave

So the Prime Minister's Easter message is out, and has been criticised and mocked by many. And, in places, fairly. It's a bit confused about the central meaning of Easter.  After all, it's not the Easter message, or the teaching of Jesus, that says we should withdraw benefits from people who won't work - no, that is St Paul in 2 Thessalonians. And David Cameron didn't say that - in his message, at least. For the Easter Message he boiled it down to hard work. Which is not part of the Easter Message. Yes, Jesus was a hard-working Messiah. Constantly touring. But I don't think that's what David Cameron meant.

But then he pulled me up short with what was, I think, his third attempt at defining the heart of the Easter Message.

"I hope everyone can share in the belief of trying to lift people up rather than count people out. Those values and principles are not the exclusive preserve of one faith or religion. They are something I hope everyone in our country believes.
That after all is the heart of the Christian message. It’s the principle around which the Easter celebration is built."

See, to me that is the heart of Easter. Not the multi-faith bit. The bit about lifting people up rather than counting them out. Jesus at the moment of conception - celebrated around Easter time every year - just the tiniest cell with the spark of God the Word, joined to this fallen world. Jesus at Christmas - a working-class baby in the place they keep the animals. A refugee or - if he's as white as he's often pictured - an ex-pat in Egypt. Jesus with a little child, declaring them the most important in the kingdom. Kneeling before his disciples to wash the dust from the feet. In a garden once, the story said, our first ancestors had a choice about a tree and took the wrong decision. On Maundy Thursday, Jesus had a choice about a tree in the garden and made the painful decision - the unwise decision - the humiliating one. The one that lowered him to the status of a condemned slave, a renegade.

And the reason he allowed himself to fall to the bottom, I believe, is that it meant that in the strength of God he could then lift up the whole Creation with him on Easter Sunday. God believes in "trying to lift people up rather than count people out". That's the story of Redemption. 

Of course, if God is in the process of lifting people out, he doesn't get them to do it by their bootlaces. It requires Incarnation. God must become one of us - and the representative of all of us - to get down low enough to lift. He's the lifesaver who has to jump into the water because there's no rubber rings or handy tree branches around. The one who saves potholers by climbing into the depths to find them. The army medic who, to bring wounded soldiers out safe, has to go into No-mans-Land to treat them. 

The story of Easter is that God doesn't count anyone out. He comes down and lifts them out - doesn't just offer encouragement from on high.

So well done, David Cameron. I think that, somewhere in what is frankly politically correct confusion, you put your finger on the truth. I wonder how you'd actually play that out.

Re-enchanting the Rainbow

Once again a day of sunshine and showers. Glimpses of rainbows, but never quite a real rainbow.

I dream back to a hallowed day on the North Cornwall coast, heading towards Tintagel, Boscastle and - most important of all - St Joliet, where Thomas Hardy met the wild sister-in-law of the local vicar, ravishing as she was in her original air-blue gown. And down in the sea, half a mile from the shore, was the base of a rainbow. Not when Tommy H was there. When I was.

A strange site, just the part of the rainbow where it hit the sea. A many-coloured glowing over the sea surface. Like Lyonesse was having a street party.

And the thing is, I know the physics. I know it's all about refraction and reflection, and it could only have happened with the sun behind me yada yada yada. It's all great and it's all scientific and it's good and predictable and - don't you think a rainbow in the sea off Cornwall shouts "sunken city of the Little People" at you? Doesn't it make you want to go "God, you ride on the waves and your glory is so great that, frankly, it would only take the inclusion of octarine to make my life complete"? 

Or is that just me?

Letters to the Church Magazine

Once again the monthly letters page is available in the Trim Valley Benefice. I quite like the old place. Makes the Beaker Folk look normal.

How Hard Working is Your Family?

It's going to be one of those key phrases over the next six weeks. The battle-ground over which Tories and Labour will fight. And it's actually, whatever John Prescott or Michael Gove or whoever might say, down to the fact that you can get barely a fag paper between them. They're both going to cut the State and they're both gonna blame the other party for it.

The other parties have less of a problem. The Plaid message is "Free Wales and Socialism". The SNP "Free Scotland and Socialism". The Greens, "Let's all starve while huddled round the last stick of firewood in Britain". UKIP, "Let's go back to Enid Blyton's 1930s". And the Lib Dems are going with "If any us are left in Parliament, maybe we can be in coalition again".

But for the big two parties, it's down to "hardworking families". I guess this is based on the following assumptions:
- Except in North London, rich people will vote Tory, regardless.
- Old people will vote how they've always voted.
- Poor people don't vote.
- Students get up so late the polls will have closed.

So that leaves hardworking families. They may think that there's a chance that voting for one party or the other may make a difference to their lives. They may not have twigged that the difference between Labour and Conservative is that Ed Balls will tell you he's taking your money for your own good, whereas the Tories are taking your money for their own good.

But how hardworking is your family? Do you, especially, qualify for that tag? Here are the questions you must ask yourself.

Do you, or your partner, have a job? If you're a traditional family and the man works and the woman doesn't - what's the matter with her? Life isn't all milk-vomit on your shoulder and Loose Women, you know. Get out and pay taxes - we mean, work. Have you never heard of feminism?

If you're a traditional family and both parents are out at work - what's the matter with the woman?  Going out to work, leaving the children with childcare or the grandparents or asking passing glue-sniffers to keep an eye on them - irresponsible. Don't you know studies have proved that children whose mothers work are 90% more likely to like One Direction and hassle strangers outside Tesco Express? You people make me sick.

If you're a traditional family and the mother goes out to work but the father doesn't - don't you worry there's something odd about that? I mean - it's not what anyone else does, is it? Are you sure you're traditional at all? Who's wearing the flat cap in your family?

If you both have flat caps, as well as bizarre beards, fixie bikes and you work as barristas, you are strictly speaking a hipster flat-share. Politicians don't care about you.  You'll be drinking your two-thirds of a pint of lambic steam-malted cherry rye-beer when you should be voting. And standing about asking if people want squirrel milk with their Somalian Red Ferret dark roast doesn't really count as hard working, does it?

If you are gay, bravo. Nobody wants to get into the question of who goes to work, who looks after the children or what you spend your money on. It's best for the party's rep if you are just quietly approved of.

But those families with kids - not the babies.  The spotty ones. They're old enough to work aren't they? If they are over 13, the least you can do, now all the mines are closed, is send them to work in McDonald's. It won't help the spots, obviously. But still - it all keeps the economy moving. And the stumpy ones - even if they're not old enough for paid work, can't you get them knitting?

And Granny needn't think she can just sit there in front of the telly, dreaming of when London was so friendly you could leave your doors open and friendly Kray twins were on every corner, directing traffic while bobbies, two by two, gave cheery waves. Surely she can do a bit of cleaning?

So add it up. If 45% or more of the waking hours of your family, ages 13 and up, is spent in gainful employment - congratulations. You are a hardworking family.  You will be the most important people in the country for the next six weeks. And, after that, if you can just shut up, work hard, and pay your taxes?

Church Profiles Explained Some More

In my previous blog to you, O blog-lovers, I discussed some labels of church traditions that are used in church profiles - those documents generally used to sell churches to potential ministers - and what they meant in reality. Some people laughed, some tutted, some resigned their ministries, and some wondered where the Charismatic Catholics were.

But that's only part of the story. There are also the words that the churches use to describe themselves, apart from the labels. The softer words. The words that can convey positive meanings to potential ministers, while hiding or foreboding an inner despair.... Here's a sampler.

A Sense of History - The Memorials get more attention than the members of the congregation.

Ambitions for Children's Work - You or your partner  must be good with children. As none of us can stand them. But apparently they're "the Future", whatever that is.

Architecturally rich - People will come from all over the country, demand you open up the church so they can spend five minutes admiring the stained glass, and leave nothing in the donations box.

At the Centre of the Community - Controlled by the Lodge.

Buidling Relationships - The last minister got 10 years.

Church Magazine needs reviving - How's your writing, editing, printing and door-to-door distribution skills?

Close-knit - You know that Table of Kindred and Affinities you townies have? We've shortened that.

Conservative - We ducked the last witch in 1986. She's now the organist, as it gors.

Dedicated congregation for Daily Prayer - Doris does get a bit fixated on the minister.

Diverse - The organist is Welsh. And the Church Warden's wife is from the next village.

Ecumenical activity - The Baptists have stopped swearing at the Methodist minister. At least, on Sundays. That's an improvement, isn't it?

Everyone knows everyone else - There's only four in the congregation.

Historic Building - Are you a good fund-raiser?

In need of a Hands-on minister - The boiler's constantly breaking down.

Inner City - Look, we know it's what Jesus might be wanting. But that doesn't necessarily make it easy. You will be the only professional on the patch who doesn't go home to the suburbs at night. And possibly the only church member in that situation as well.

Many baptisms - Well, they're cheaper than weddings.

Many funerals - When they cleared people out from the Old East End, they didn't completely lose the culture.

Many weddings - Mostly between people from the EU, and people from the developing world who can't seem to remember their partners' names.

Messy Church - Pigeons and bats keep getting in.

Mix of Traditions across the Benefice - Little Tremlett has declared war on Woodby Chapel End.

Paid 75% of the Parish Share - Next year we're aiming for 50.

Patron is greatly interested in the work of the Parish - Imagine you're Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice. But will you please stop simpering?

Quarterly Benefice Service - Every 5th Sunday of the month, the congregation of 5 out of 6 parishes stays at home.

Reverent - No children.

Rich local history - There's a coven meets on the downs. Not one of the nice ones. And two of the members are on the tea rota.

Rural - You'll be accepted in about 20 years.

Strong pastoral commitment - The entire congregation needs bussing to hospital on a weekly basis. Apart from the ones in the residential home, obviously.

Solemn - See "Reverent"

Thriving village social life - Wife-swapping.

Varied Worship Tradition - After three ministers of different enthusiasms, we're liturgically and theologically bankrupt. And financially, obviously. Financially goes without saying.

Very Rural - We'll give your car a year. And the local mechanic - whom you will have to go to, as he's one of the Wardens - really only "gets" tractors.

Vibrant - Noisy

It's Not Easy Being Orange

Yeah I used to make good money, selling fruit juice at Mind-Body-Spirit conferences.

Whole, natural, organic.

I used to call it Kia-Aura.

Even the Solar Stone-Lights Cry Out

Last time I get talked into staging a "Palm Sunday" event in a shopping complex. It was meant, from our perspective, as an outreach.  And from theirs as a community event / street theatre / marketing opportunity. So in theory we were all happy.

Till Milton Ernest, in the lead role,  got carried away. Overturned all the tables in Costa.

And I dare not go back to the garden centre. Not after what happened to their fig trees. I'm sure that's not how it happened in the Bible.