Only One Future Allowed

'Monday morning, 8.15am, and the British Humanist Association is hosting its no-prayer annual breakfast. The bacon butties are long gone by the time shadow business secretary Angela Eagle launches her attack on Tim Farron. “At a time when we have a huge revival of fundamentalist religious belief, we have a newly elected leader of the Liberal Democrats who is an evangelical Christian who believes in the literal truth of the bible. He does. He just doesn’t want to talk about it a lot because he knows how much it will embarrass his own party.”'

From the Guardian

Is There Life on Mars?

Not so excited about the discovery that there is flowing water on Mars. We knew there was water on Mars, we knew the sun shone on Mars. Those two things together make it possible for water to move around. So good stuff, interesting, confirmed some theories but it's not exactly world- or even Mars-shattering.

Knowing there's flowing water means there's a better chance of life on Mars than if we knew there were no flowing water. And what does it mean if there's life - small-scale, bacterial-type - on Mars?

Well, I guess it means there's a better chance of life elsewhere. If two next-door planets have life, then the chances that an earth-sized planet in the Goldilocks zone round a star across the galaxy may have life as well. If it's similar to simple life on Earth, maybe there's a greater chance that the comet-dispersal theory of life is correct. In which case, maybe there's life around every cosmic corner. Maybe some of it would be complex, intelligent, brighter than us, fiercer than us, angrier than us. If we think it it old enough to cover the darkness of space between its home and here, we may have things to worry about.

No running water.... no soup..... 

And what does it tell us about the nature or presence of God?

It tells us this universe is wonderful and mysterious, with surprises and the potential for the generation of life. If you believe in God, it's proof - as if you needed it - that God is creative and endlessly imaginative - and has made a universe of wonder which is yet based on principles so utterly beautiful and simple. If you don't believe in God, stick with the first bit. If you don't believe in God, but you're a bit snarky and you don't think too hard, you may decide it disproves God. I still haven't been able to make that logical jump. There's people on Twitter who have but, like smug maths students, they haven't shown their working. And you know what happens if you don't show your working and you get the final answer wrong, don't you? No marks.

A Lament for Facebook being Down

Archdruid: I was glad when they said unto me, "you have three new likes on Facebook"

All: But when she clicked on the link, Facebook was down.

Archdruid: Tell it not in Redwood City.

All: Publish it not in Regents Place.

Archdruid: You can't anyway, as the button is not there.

 All: And no status to update.

Archdruid: I remember the days when I went unto Facebook to "poke" friends.

All: Or to post passive-aggressive rambles saying that if people are my real friends, they'll spam other people with the same neediness.

Archdruid: I remember the excitement of an unsubstantiated outrage.

All: Which on Twitter would last but for an evening, but on Facebook could keep coming back for months.

Archdruid: Where now can I post photographs of kittens?

All: Twitter.

Archdruid: Or nice pictures of my lunch?

All: Twitter.

Archdruid: Or get into futile arguments about theology or politics?

All: Twitter.

Archdruid: Or share mundane news about my life?

All: Twitter, Eileen. It's bloody Twitter. You could use tumblr, but people keep confusing it with Tinder.

Archdruid: Is it back yet?

All: dunno. Hang on.... it's got the spinner going....

Liturgy for the Blood Super Moon

Archdruid: Not so much a blood moon.

All: More a beige one.

Super Blood Moon Apocalypse Eve

And so here we are again, on the eve of another Blood Moon Apocalypse. So I spent this morning spelling out the best way of looking at the religious and scientific points of interest about such a celestial event.

I suppose to me the regularity of the moon's cycles - the way we can predict eclipses - speaks of the constant nature of our God. I love the beauty of the Physics, the way we can trust the universe to do what it does - within the parameters of what we know. And knowing the Physics doesn't take away the ability to read into it real poetry, philosophy, spirituality. It lifts us, awes us, humbles us and leaves us - if we choose - to bow down to the long-patient, eternal hand that conceived of such things as symbols.

So I explained all this to the Beaker Folk this morning. Or tried to. Got as far as the word "Blood Moon", and the Moon Gibbon people screamed and ran out into the woods. For those of you who've not been with us for long, I should explain that, due to a misunderstanding of the term "Gibbous Moon", the Moon Gibbon people believe that there is a large supernatural gibbon on the moon. Each lunar cycle, as the moon wanes, the Gibbon eats the moon: bringing it back up as the moon waxes. But at lunar eclipses, the Gibbon Moon Folk believe, the Gibbon Moon runs amok, and the moon is dyed with the blood of slaughtered Clangers.

So tomorrow morning, if anyone gets up and the skies clear, we can expect the perfect collision of science, religion and superstitious. A beautiful natural phenomenom. The reflection that we are part of a fantastic plan. And, far off, the howls of terror and cries of "Spare the Soup Dragon!"

Happy Super Blood Moon Apocalypse.

Blood Moons and Lilies of the Field

So I see the world's going to end. Again. Apparently the combination of a lunar eclipse and a super-moon will cause the Imminent appearance of the seraphim upon the Jeroboam. And as a result people in America are, once again, heading to the hills and stocking up on tinned food and assault rifles.

It seems to fly against all logic. It's not like lunar eclipses are rare - I've personally had a good view of at least half a dozen over the years. And it's not like "super moons" are rare. They're just hyped. A supermoon happens half a dozen times a year. None of this is unpredictable. We understand the physics. The Chinese were predicting eclipses centuries before Christ.

And it always amazes me that, if you are told the world is going to end, the first reaction is to go out and get some food and a gun. Because if you think this is the Apocalypse - the great day when Jesus will return - you're wasting your time with both. First up, Jesus is renowned as a dead good provider of free food and drink. And if he's going to be judging both the living and the dead, I just don't think guns are going to be much help.

So I'm not heading to the hills and I'm not stocking up on corned beef. Though I'm tempted to set the alarm for 1am Monday morning so I can see it - if the weather looks hopeful.

Obviously most people aren't alarmed. The end of the world happens so often these days that it's hardly worth getting excited about. Although there's always that nagging feeling that, one day, somebody is going to be right.

But I'd like to compare it with what Jesus says. He says this: "See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these." He's comparing the kingdom way of life with a way of life that constantly worries - keeps up with the Joneses. What Jesus says elsewhere is that you're wasting your time trying to work out the end of the world - because even he, during his time on earth, didn't know. He tells us about a judgement, and he tells us it could come any time - but he doesn't give us a timetable.

Because what Jesus is really saying, I believe, is that we should always live like it's the end of the world. I don't mean we should all live up in the hills, gnashing our teeth and living on tinned sweetcorn and hunting rabbits. I mean we should all live considering that we may not have the time we expect.

So if you've a friend who you've not seen for a while, and you're thinking one day you should get together - make a phone call, send an email or try and find them on Facebook - maybe today is the day you should do it. If you've been planning to give some money to a good cause, or spend some tie doing something worthwhile - maybe today is when you should do it.

If there's something you have been planning to do, or try, or if there's a relationship that's been broken and you've always thought you should say sorry - always thought someone should make the first move - maybe today's the day for that move. Maybe it's you should do it.

And then if the world doesn't end on Monday morning, it won't matter that you've done something you should have done anyway. And you'll have another day to do those things you should have done anyway - good things; fulfilling things; things that help others; whatever. It doesn't mean you give up your job, or let your house fall down, or don't cook your dinner. And give thanks for the good things God has given you in this world, for however little a time they give you a glimpse of his goodness. But "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." Don't panic that the world might end tomorrow. Just live like it might.

Archdruid's Thought for the Day

Smile and the world smiles with you.

Cry, and you can start up a blog and hopefully get a book deal.

The Ministry of Lamenting Small Inconveniences

Ah, that nostalgic feel of an autumnal equinox. Autumn is always the season for remembering. At this time of year, I like to remember the ankle-deep leaves falling onto Parks Road. The yellow light of Brasenose welcoming exhausted, smelly Chemists back from a hard day's Purgatory in the Dyson Perrins lab - any Chemist accused of being involved in unseemly parties at Oxford has the alibi that, smelling as we always seemed to of esthers from the bowels of Hell, nobody even invited us to seemly parties let alone unseemly ones.

And so we celebrated the equinox today in the Moot House, as the weather was looking dodgy. We had an "apple" theme - which is to say that everybody brought an apple or two to hold, pretend was the earth and/or another planet depending on how much fruit they had bought. And, when Hnaef started a very long sermon on the finer points of an organ piece by Messiaen, they were very handy for throwing.

And so we spent part of the afternoon hosing down the Executive Arch-Assistant Druid to remove 100 pounds of apple sauce. I mean, what were the chances of that happening three years running?

And thoughts of Hnaef's repeated apple-sauce issues remind me of another woe that occurred to somebody from a former house group, in a former church, many years ago. He was a teacher, and arrived one evening a little shell-shocked. Unsurprisingly. That day, when he left the classroom for a moment, his class had set the contents of his briefcase on fire.

Now, Martin Saunders mentions a particular Christian reaction - and I quote - "the sympathetic heart-cry of compassion" - accompanied by a bit of a frown and head tilt. This is what Christians do when somebody else suffers any kind of inconvenience. However small. Presumably because every minor setback a Christian suffers, is clear evidence of either persecution or the hand of the evil one. And Christians have to sympathise. It's the Ministry of Lamenting Small Inconveniences.

There was, during the one-day series the other week, an incident where a batsman received a fast delivery, for want of a better description, midwicket. And the fielders did what cricketers always do when a batsman has a ball arrive in the area for which the protective box was invented. They wandered around a little way away, smirking a bit. No doubt somebody suggested he did a bit of counting. It was a kind of slightly amused sympathy.

And that was the feeling I had when my friend told the house group - in tones of great sadness and shock - that somebody had set his briefcase on fire. I felt very sorry for him. Everybody else in the group did the sympathetic heart-cry of compassion. But I couldn't do it. Because, mixed with the empathy, there was a certain amount of respect for his students. Anyone could have just pinched his bag, or emptied it out of the window. That would have been nasty, and very unclassy. But somehow setting it on fire in the classroom showed a certain amount of vicious style.

And that was when I realised that I am missing a vital Christian gift. I do not have the Ministry of Lamenting Small Inconveniences. Don't get me wrong. In the case of bereavement, serious injury or loss of employment, I am as capable of sympathy as anyone else. But mention that you had to queue to pay for your shopping, that you've got an ingrowing toe-nail, or the upgrade to iOS9 bricked your iPhone, and I won't be able to do it. I will treat the information as uninteresting, slightly sad, but underserving of tilting my head or sighing.

You know why? Let me take you back to that cricket match. There's a bloke who has just taken a sharp rap on a sensitive part of his body. Imagine if the fielders, his parter, and the umpires had been members of a Christian house group.

They wouldn't be wandering around the outfield, grimacing and making jokes about his evening being spoiled. Oh no. They would be stood around him in a circle, heads titled to one side, making that noise Christians make when another Christian has suffered a temporary but probably not serious inconvenience. If he was really unlucky, somebody would be offering to lay on hands. And chances are, that would be a little beardy bloke with a bald head and an earnest look.

The Ministry of Lamenting Small Inconveniences. It's exercised by so many. We shouldn't encourage it. It could be terribly embarrassing.

Lament for the Last Day of Summer

Archdruid: The last of the summer rays falls on the grateful earth

All: Sorry, Eileen? It's pouring with rain.

Archdruid: And the earth revels in the last warmth of summer.

All: Eileen, can we chuck another pallet on the fire? It's freezing.

Archdruid: Let us bask in the sun and rejoice while we may! Gather ye rosebuds and eat of the fruit of the land!

All: The tomatoes are months behind. The rosebuds all rotted in the rain. And the hottest summer in history, as predicted by the Daily Express (yet again), and even the Telegraph, has been a washout.

Archdruid: Then let us take one last summer dance on the blessed grass!

All: Lower Meadow is under water. The floor in the Orchard is covered in fungus. There's nowhere safe to dance.

Archdruid: What about the tennis court?

All: Covered in moss. It's terrifying.

Archdruid: Then let us cower under cover, sing our songs of woe, light up the wood-burner, throw chair legs on the fire and lament the total wash out that the summer has been. OK, Kirsty - take it away.....

Liturgy of Waiting for the Autumnal Equinox

Archdruid: No, not yet.

God of the Gaps

Richard Dawkins was very holy this morning. His first thought, as the day dawned, was to pour out praise in the manner of the Psalmist or the author of Job, to God: comparing him to the little, bodgy, cut-and-shut God of the Gaps and asking "what other God is there?"

Theologians love to denigrate "the God of the Gaps". Then go right ahead and invoke him. When you think about it, what other God is there?

— Richard Dawkins (@RichardDawkins) September 20, 2015

To which, in the ancient Beaker catechism which he is clearly quoting, the response comes:

There is only God, and that God is not a God of the gaps.

The heavens themselves are too small for God to take as a dwelling

The earth too small to be God's footstool.

What God could fit in anything so small as to be a gap?

Some say what about the fine tuning of the universal constants?

Do not these prove the existence of God, since each is set in its place,

From the beginning of time to prove that God has designed them?

If the constants are as they are, let us seek to know why.

Could they be different? In other universes are they different?

Can we imagine how another world might be if they changed?

But do not look for God here. This is a gap. It is too small.

Others may say - what of before the Big Bang?

What brought it into being?

Who set a singularity in place, that it might fill the void?

Is God not found there?

If there is mystery there, let us unravel it.

Let us do the maths [here Americans may say "math" if they really must]

Let us peek beyond if we can - but do not look for God here.

This is a gap. It is much too small.

Or we may look at consciousness and wonder

Are we touching the presence of the soul?

Is this gift so great it comes from God

Is God not found here?

It is  a gift and a great wonder

So let us understand it, analyse it

Find its biological basis and use it

To understand illnesses and explain behaviour

But do not look for God here.

This is a gap. It is too small.

Let us take metaphor and speak of God

As the one who throws thunderbolts and chucks down hail

Who takes the sky as a coat and shines with the sun's righteousness

Who brings us into the world and breathes life.

If in him we live and move and have our being

Then the whole logic of the universe is the grammar of the Word that spoke it

The meaning of this world is written on the surface of Meaning

And hope is filled with the universal Hope even as the world burns to an end.

Then the Spirit works with our spirits to a hope we cannot dream.

In the end there is no God of the Gaps

Because there are no gaps.

As a matter of fact, it's all Gap.