The Ark

Everyone was being really really bad.

People were hating.

People were cheating.

People were fighting.

People were lying.

It was just like today.

And God said:  

"Enough!

I'm gonna wipe it all out!

But…. 

The plants are green.

And the earth is so lovely 

Like a raindrop in space.

And Noah.... Noah's all right.

…and Mrs Noah, obviously.

And I like 

the rats, the bats, the cats, the dogs.

The toads, the nematodes and frogs.

The cows, the sows, the bulls and pigs.

The horses, earthworms, fleas and squids.

Actually.... 

I’m gonna need a really big Ark."

So God called Noah 

And said:

"Noah! 

Get the rats, the bats, the cats, the dogs.

The toads, the nematodes and frogs.

The cows, the sows, the bulls and pigs.

The horses, earthworms, fleas and squids.

And get them in a really big Ark."

And Noah was the only one who ever did what God said.

So Noah built a really big Ark.

A boat as big as... well as big as a really big boat.

And then he went out with a really big net.

And caught two of everything....

The rats, the bats, the cats, the dogs.

The toads, the nematodes and frogs.

The cows, the sows, the bulls and pigs.

The horses, earthworms, fleas and...

Not the squids. You don't need to keep squids dry.

And then it rained.

And rained. And rained.

Until there was no rain left to fall.

And no ground left at all.

But Noah was safe

With Mrs Noah.

And their sons

And their sons' wives 

And the rats, the bats, the cats, the dogs.

The toads, the nematodes and frogs.

The cows, the sows, the bulls and pigs.

The horses, earthworms, fleas and squids.

They were all safe in the Ark.

Except the squids. They were loving it outside.

Then the rain stopped.

And the rays of sun dropped

On that big blue planet.

And Noah opened the door.

And out came 

the rats, the bats, the cats, the dogs.

The toads, the nematodes and frogs.

The cows, the sows, the bulls and pigs.

The horses, earthworms, fleas and squids.

They all came out the Ark.

Except the squids. They wanted to know why it had stopped raining. They liked it that way.

And the sun shone in the sky – and a rainbow appeared.

And God said:

“This is my promise. 

As long as the rainbow appears in the rain

Then I’ll never ever be that angry again.

The sun and moon will float in the sky

And though the earth may get wet, it will mostly be dry. 

For the rats, the bats, the cats, the dogs.

The toads, the nematodes and frogs.

The cows, the sows, the bulls and pigs.

The horses, earthworms, fleas and squids.

Especially the squids.

I like the squids."

Beware The Shadow Synod

The Independent reports that some churches are preparing for some kind of action if the Church of England does some unspecified liberal thing about gay people in some kind of partnership. Or something.

The idea that three dioceses are forming a new grouping sounds improbable. Three whole dioceses? One of which is Canterbury? I can't imagine Justin Welby rebelling against himself. Now, Jeremy Corbyn.  I could imagine him rebelling against himself. But I digress.

What worries me is the concept of a "Shadow Synod." The thought of them sneaking around, having secret divisions by houses, building an Evangelical Death Star... Can't they rename themselves the "Rebel Alliance?" Sounds much friendlier. Then they could have ewoks.

RIP Gene Wilder

Gene Wilder has died.

Forget Johnnie Depp. Wilder was the perfect Willy Wonka. All-powerful, moral, yet utterly irresponsible. He is a major contributor to my view of  the nature of God.

He's now the star in a new film: "Everything you wanted to know about Death, but were afraid to ask." May his saddles ever blaze,

Notting Hill Celebrates: Hugh Grant's Official Birthday

Once again in West London the Notting Hill Carnival is in full swing. Bobbies on Bicycles two by two, quaint Chinese tourists wondering what the strange heavy smell is in the air and wondering if it's the famous "London Smog", and Rhys Ifans running around in his underwear. England at its multicultural best.

Hugh Grant's official residence

What is generally forgotten today is the reason for the Carnival. It was originally planned to have a big party on 9 September - Hugh Grant's birthday. Hugh, being the hereditary Duke of Notting Hill, is entitled to a three-day celebration each year. But it was agreed by Harold Wilson's Labour government, at the same time they introduced International Sit on the Train Floor Day on May 1st, that they would also create a new public holiday at the end of August, to celebrate Hugh's birthday in style.

And so it came to pass. Today is International Foppishly Shy Day, the second day of the festival. All the upper-class English people who now live in Notting Hill ensure they get out to the Cotswolds. They let out their town houses for the weekend to the sort of people who used to live in Notting Hill before gentrification. Steel bands play in the street, parades of Old Etonians carry out their traditional "stroll" down Ladbroke Grove, and people in Minis attempt to get to press conferences as fast as possible. Every door in Notting Hill receives an extra coat of blue paint, at Hugh's expense.

Meanwhile, Hugh Grant himself tours the area in an open-topped bus, waving to the adoring crowds and throwing fivers for the street urchins to chase. Before amusingly taking a high-speed wrong turning, crashing into the market stalls, and proposing to a random American.

The Coldstream Guards celebrate another Happy Hugh Year

Hugh Grant's Official Birthday. A piece of Olde England.

Heaven or Wetherspoons?

With thanks to Andrew Dotchin for putting my words to imagery.

"According to popular images,

heaven is a place with marbled 

surfaces where you can eat food

and drink wine all day.

Sorry, that's Wetherspoons.

God Hates Fondues

He told them a parable. ‘When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honour, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, “Give this person your place,” and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honoured in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’ He said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.’ (Luke 14:1,7-14)

There are people who say "Jesus says this" or "Jesus didn't say that" to back up their points.  Because taking just one gobbet of scripture out of context always helps, doesn't it? If you want to know what to do - read the Bible. Just take the simple sense and go with it.

But I don't often hear it applied literally to this passage. Yep, the reading where Jesus tells you not to invite your own relatives to dinner.

Some may think this is an absolute godsend. The idea of going "Oh, yeah, I'd love to invite you and Dave and your six lovely kids round - but I am specifically forbidden from doing so by Jesus." Peace, perfect peace.

But where's the correct response from those you'd expect to hear it from? You don't hear people invited to tea with the vicar say, "O thanks. But can you invite a poor person instead?" We don't get the weekly invite to Sunday dinner from a family member and send a passing stranger with a limp round to their house in our place.

You don't see Westboro Baptist Church picketing suburban front rooms with signs saying "God hates fondues."

I don't go many dinner parties. So I don't know if there is still the strict etiquette where people had to sit in the right place. Obviously I sit at the centre of High Table in the Beaker dining room - but that's just so I can see what's going on. And sure, Charlii sits to my right - with Keith just opposite - but that's because they're family. And sure, Daphne and Hnaef are the other side - but they're friends. It's all very rational. And obviously Jesus must have been using exaggerated speech. Because look who were at the Last Supper. His friends.

But what is our place in the world? How do we measure it? Is it by the niceness of our clothes? The company we keep? The size of our office? Are we doing a good  - wanting to do the best we can using the gifts God has given us - or are we working out whether we are 8th or 9th in succession to the key to the Executive drinks cupboard?

When, in short, we look at the whole of God's humanity - where do we see our place in it? There's a website you can use to find out by one measure. You can go and look up where you stand if you're just thinking in terms of money. Jeremy Corbyn is in the top 0.05% of rich people in the world! How come he is so high up when I only come in the top 5%, I ask my tax advisor. And we both agree that it's mystery all.

That website is not meant to make you feel good. It turns out you're meant to feel humble - how can I, even adjusted for excessive costs on business wear and compensation for precious losses, be richer than 95% of the world? What makes me so special? Do I think I'm better than 19 out of 20 people or am I lucky or - as an evangelist with a Porsche might say - blessed?

Do I think being me, makes me special - as if I'm moving up the table in God's seating arrangement - or will be happy to take the bottom place? Knowing that, if God is the fair judge and forgiving parent that God is - I'll end up with a seat at the heavenly banquet, and the  knowledge that I'm God's daughter, and the sight of God's face forever.

This seating arrangement stuff is weirdly important, of course. Because if we're to believe the images, heaven is a place of marbled surfaces, where we will be able to drink wine, and eat, all day. Which makes it sound scarily like Wetherspoons, but without the fruit machines. I guess the Methodists got in first and banned them. And imagine if you were sat next to a pub bore who kept telling you they should never have built the Arndale in the 70s, for all eternity. You need a decent place at that table.

There is another sort-of seating arrangement story in the Gospels. Two disciples wanted to be at Jesus's right and left hand when he sat on his throne. He told them, that's someone else's job to decide. And when he was on that throne in his glory, instead there were two robbers and rebels.

That's Jesus putting the seating arrangements in context. That's Jesus putting our social status to death. That's Jesus telling us who God thinks is important.

So if you're wanting to think about the people God puts up the list in the heavenly seating arrangement - the food bank box is just behind the tea light stand. The food banks themselves are in Bedford, Dunstable and Milton Keynes. The Big Issue Just Giving page for Not Greenbelt 2016 is here. And your dinner table is - well, you know where that is.

I wonder if Jesus ever got invited back to that house for dinner.

I wonder if he cared.

But I know I'll be glad to get even the bottom seat of that table, with the heavenly crumbs. Because even that will be the happiest meal ever.

Definitely Not Greenbelt 2016

Once again the Beaker Folk have travelled up to Graham Heartland's "Not GB" festival.

Got here early yesterday morning. Albeit turned out we really were a bit early. No stewards, no tents, no cars, no happy campers. Just owls.

Scary creatures, owls. We locked the coach door and sang comforting songs till day broke. I say "comforting". Six hours of " Kum By Ah" got a bit much, to be honest. Then a bloke came and knocked at the coach door.

Turned out because of the hi viz, he assumed we were the construction crew for the authentic "Greenbelt 1986-style" toilets. And I didn't like to argue. Not least because, with the Beaker Folk busy digging enormous holes in the ground, I could nip off and put the Archdruidical Tentiplex up in peace, without Marston tying himself up with guy ropes while helping. Funny thing, last year, the number of times he did it you'd think he enjoyed me having to untie him while swearing at him.

Did make me wonder why he was still putting his tent up by day 4.

Anyway. They all asked how come I'd dragged them out into the virtual countryside to engage in manual labour. So I told them they were actually digging ritual pits into which people would later be making offerings. Seemed to persuade them.

So today we've just been to early morning worship with the Isle of Wight community. They're like the Iona Community except every act of worship ends with ritually cursing Ofsted.

If you want to attend Not GB 2016, you can find Graham's blog here. The Twitter feed is here.

And most importantly #notgb2016 is a nonprofit, virtual organisation. All of its revenue goes to the Big Issue Foundation. And you can just give here.

Only Pub in the Village

Going through a village last week and saw the last pub had been boarded up, fenced off and was going through a metamorphosis into four apartments and three executive homes.

And I felt something should be done.

We need some really strong laws to stop this sort of thing happening, ripping the hearts out of local communities. So, in accordance with the book of 1 Kings, I thought I'd propose that the last pub in a village only be converted to housing at the cost of the firstborn of those responsible.

Yeah, but we're talking property developers, ain't we. 

Wouldn't make the slightest difference. 

Uncivil Celebrant

I'm now registered as an Uncivil Celebrant for weddings. 

It's like being a Civil Celebrant. But you get to say rude things about the bride and drag up episodes from the groom's past he'd rather not think about. 

Got a bit edgy today though. I accused the congregation of being a bunch of scroungers who were on the sick while perfectly fit to turn up to a wedding.

Didn't get anything in the collection.

The Spirituality of Gardens

A Japanese gravel garden is a wonderful spiritual thing. Simple, yet able to carry the most wonderful messages through the patterns in the gravel. A nice flowering cherry and some wind chimes will set the ambience off a treat.

So if all Beaker Folk could please gather at the Archdruidical Lodge at 9am please. That ground's got to be flattened, a foundation put in and 5 tonnes of gravel carried through from the car park.

It's not often we allow ordinary Beaker Folk to enter the Druid's Garden. So please reflect upon this privilege. And work quietly.

Christian Voice's "Sideboard of Weird"

Everybody knows about the Daily Mail's "Sidebar of Shame". Mostly links to lightly-clad young ladies with comments like "hasn't she blossomed" or somesuch.

But the Christian Voice "Sideboard of Weird" is even worse. I attach a* copy of the ads they list. Bear in min these are "sponsored links" - not any old rubbish like you might get at the bottom of "Writes of the Church".

Knowing "The Name of Your Angel?"  What part of the Bible does that come from?

"How to know God" and "Free Coaching" - are these related?

But the ones that did for me were the bottom three.

"Over 40s Dating Website" and "Widows Dating Online" (presumably not with other widows, which would cause poor performance in the diving). But those two together caused me to read the last one as "Instant Grandma Checker". Freudian or just failing eyesight? Either way, if you're on an over 40s dating website, best check your grandma.

In case you're wondering - the Gaylord in the Isle of Dogs is an Indian restaurant. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Though I suspect this may be an interesting case of an advertising algorithm horribly misfiring.

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* Low res, cropped, definitely not in breach of copyright under fair use