A Summary of Activity

This is an early-Saturday post, which is to say, not worthy of real attention! Some have suggested that a good way to see the net effect of your blog is to review the reader's Top 10 posts. This is a list borne of measurable hits - or in other words, specific page-hits - and cannot include the numbers of those to enter the Site at its head and scroll through pages, if you know what I mean (probably not, I don't). Anyway, here is my Greatest Hits to date: if I am the only one to read this post today, I will have enjoyed the reminiscence!

1. Dad, Junior and the Spook [June 2010]: this post offered my own personal model of Trinity, my own way of 'working it out' - it is read a day every week even to this day, mostly by kind readers in America!

2. What the EDL did for us [May 2010]: I wrote this post at the end of the day when the English Defence League visited my home town - a kind of 'two fingers' at racism.

3. Naked Woman Flesh [July 2010]: This post was a reflection on something very unimportant, but has been a source of much amusement to me since. I get regaular hits on this page by people regularly trawling for porn - I smile every time I imagine the look on their faces!

4. The Might of Women [August 2010]: this was an instant list-maker, but my aim was only to mock the foolishness of some Christians as made manifest in their approach to women!

5. Seeing Through Bloggles [October 2010]: thanks to a direct recommendation from eminent Blogmeister The Church Mouse, this went skywards only yesterday. It is a lighthearted yet serious (as they all are) introduction to blogging, and its pitfalls.

6. Pragmatic Faith [August 2010]: in this post, I confessed a fear about not fitting the Christian mould, less still the ordained Christian mould. This sense persists for me, but I am less bothered/troubled by it.

7. On Being Self-Centred [September 2010]: this post attended to an observation that Christians seem unwilling or unable to put themselves first, even at times of greatest personal tragedy.

8. General Synod or Specific Synod [September 2010]: I wrote this post over the cavassing statements of those who sought election to the General Synod. The election has since been had with some very questionable results.

9. Liturgical Leftovers [August 2010]: a reflection on the liturgical nature of the world-faiths

10. Trust a Man to Get it Wrong [May 2010]: I wrote this on my mother's birthday, the day my dad also chose to cark it several years earlier - enough said!

It is right to offer a note of thanks to those of you who have read this stuff many thousands of time. your comments have been supportive and appropriately challenging, and for that I am most sincerely humbled and grateful. Thanks also to those who 'know me' on Facebook and offer your comment there. This lark is, in my opinion at least, is only worthwhile if someone reads it. God Bless you all.

Concerning Halloween

I was asked the very reasonable question earlier by the delightful Mrs Acular - as we are a clergy-family, is it appropriate that we 'do' Holloween?

My first instinct was to ask her to go back to sleep at three in the morning, but as I was only fantasising about having a few more hours in bed, it seemed right to grunt and ignore her anyway!

That is my way of saying, 'let me think about that, oh love of my life, and I will get back to you sometime soon'. She is a solicitor, so it always best not to commit until an answer is formed and robust, evidenced and with the support of witnesses!

My first instinct has always been to abhor Halloween, condemn it is a pagan death-fest. It has always had the feel of the anti-Christian to me, but I must confess here, that that view has always been un-informed. Even at theological college some well-meaning sort held a Not-Halloween Party for the kids, on Halloween night - and much as that is a clear misnomer, reinforced my instictive response about the wrong-ness of the whole shebang. So I have a read a little, so that tomorrow, I may furnish my queen with the appropriate Christian repsonsa.

Well, it seems at first glance like a mish-mash of many things - Samhain [Celtic], Pomona [Roman], a marking of "summer's end", All Hallow's Eve [Christian] and so on, and has become associated with purgatory [the basis for the pumpkin lanterns], souling and guising [partly the basis of trick or treating], and other spiritually based pursuits. For me at least, nothing onerous - even if I personally wouldn't much fancy it. 

However, there is the darker side to which I do have to take exception. There is the clear association with death as a living state (if you know what I mean), the occult, the devil and yes, a little bit of a dance with forces more rightly described as evil.

In my mind, and speaking as a parent, I have to draw the balance between the seaonally-based spiritual components as compared to the dark and rather sinister connotations - and my reply to my wife will be formed along the following lines:

...for the kids I consider Halloween  harmless fun, dressing up, a chance for a party perhaps. I would treat it as I would fireworks night, as something that happens from which I see no need to protect my children at the level that three-year olds recieve such things. In the wider sense, I cannot reconcile myself to its darker associations and regard what Halloween stands for to be imcompatible with what I believe about death and life, or the love of God for all people.

It does highlight the issue of how a Christian parent recieves the world for their young children. I am no exception though my public ministry does add a little pressure when making a choice for my kids - as what I do will never be just a matter for my family. Your comments would be welcomed as my answer still feels inadequate!

Holiday Jabs

I confess, I found myself today, by accident, inadvertantly and beyond all reasonable control, watching the Jeremy Kyle Show. As we know, Jeremy Kyle is the King of the Chavs, so the programme meant very little to me.

However, it is not about that that I write. In the middle of the social anthropology lesson that unfolded before my eyes as I tidied the house, there was an advert - from DFS. In itself it is not a remarkable thing, and as you read this, you are likely wondering what an advert from DFS and a bottom be-needled has to do with the price of fish.

The DFS advert in question was for its Christmas campaign - so the normal muzak was suffused with donging chimes and jingling sleigh-bells, with a merry arborfeature behind the funky furnishings, as is the wont of the marketting men when trying to evoke the festive season for us mere mortals. 

But it works. It works like that bloody awful song by Slade works (yes, Nobby, it's Chriiiiiiiiiismasssss), like  'Pipes of Peace' works, like Troika works, like anything crooned by Sir Cliff works - (though not Jona Lewie - as 'Stop the Cavalry' was released in summer in France and other places, so how it ever became synonymous with Chr ... oh yes, it has sleigh-bells for two seconds) - the case for the prosecution is complete, M'lud. The DFS marketting men, like so many in their trade, have recognised that some things have become instinctive - we are the Yuletide Pavlov's Dogs - ding a dong and we crave turkey and family discord. 

The first such dingy-dongy Christmas advert was witnessed my your humble servant, the Vernacular Curate if you please, 26 days after the end of the school summer holiday. I am an uber-cynic, but I am nonetheless a fan of Christmas - I am not divorced from the childlike expectation, the inner euphoria of its prospect, the enjoyment of the evocation of Christmas night and crackling fires, and yes, the breathtaking moment when we herald Christmas, the Incarnation and all that is perfect and hopeful about the baby Jesus at that service in the middle of the night. I get excited, in October, in November and all through December.

My excitement is always tempered with a murmering worry - what if I become immune to the effect of Christmas because of collosal over-exposure? What if the year comes when I am sick to the back teeth of Christmas by mid December, wishing it over and gone? 

I like my Christmas drug, I love it, and under its effects I too can be a child inside - and for a grunt like me, that is a rare privilege. What I fear is heightened immunity and enhance resistance to it - I fear the loss of my Christmas.

Terry Waite and the Chilean Miners

 

Thanks to Ruth Gledhill for this interview and for posting it on Twitter - a man always worth spending time to listen to

When All Around are Losing Theirs

I'd like to paint for you a picture of parish life in the Year of Our Lord 2010 - a moment in time, a snapshot -  a moment that happened, and is true. 

Imagine a vast medieval parish church, like a barn and just as drafty (sometimes). I want you to imagine that church during a normal week. That church is normally busy during that time, people popping in and out, things to do. In the north-east corner of that vast church is the parish office, and in it the Parish Administrator weaves orders of services, rides Outlook like the possessed beast that it is, delegates the completion of so many registers, attends to the needs of the telephone enquirers. She drinks her coffee black, and tries hard to keep warm. 

In the south-west corner of that church is its Refectory. Always busy, plying panini and cake, coffee and soups - homemade, delicious. The punters are regulars, friends. The queue to order food ebbs and flows, with each order coming with a chat and a giggle with the the noble folk who staff the Refectory. The food can be smelled, its tastes anticipated - drooling mouths ponder its forthcoming delights. 

In the church the clergy roam - often in pairs, mostly at speed. A rector and a curate, bearing some physical similarities it is said, though the curate is far younger. People to talk to, jobs to be done, coffee to drink, reflections to be shared. The piano is in the wrong place, the flower-ladies are due; talk about money soon follows, as always - but all will be well in the end.

In the north west corner of the church, behind two doors is a kitchen - not a little affair like a home kitchen, but one built to serve the needs of the Refectory. A large hob supports gentle simmering pans of leek and potato, harvest vegetable - in the oven bread rolls and eccles cakes gently brown and come to their moment of perfection. To the left sandwiches are typically made in quick succession, panini too - if that is your desire, kind soul. But not at this moment, not now. The kitchen is normally suffused with the smell of baking and food coming to temperature, cheese and bacon in the grills, the subtle smell of freshly cut salad, tomatoes, cucumber, lettuce - but not at this moment, not now. The kitchen is a place to find laughter, chatting, the busy industry of the church-catering enterprise - such tonic, such balm for the ears amid the stresses of life - but not at this moment, not now. 

In this moment the drain had backed up, the lid had flipped and its goo had poured forth all across the floor of the kitchen. The smell of fresh baking was replaced by a more dubious odour. The calm serenity of a working kitchen was supplanted by the screams of psychotic harridans - one whirling in tight circles in one direction, one in tighter circles the other direction - like a malevolent Tasmanian Devil. The scene is one of panic and screaming, unknowing and tension - noise and haste all colliding and crashing in on one another. The pastry lady was at her wits end, the sandwich lady at the end of her tether. The mess was awful, it was everywhere - what to do, what to do - please God, help us! Their feet were wet and gooey their moods fractured, the noise levels rose to fever pitch ... except for the washer-upper in chief

....he was stood still, ankle deep in drain gunge, singing Kum Bah Ya

Seeing Through Bloggles

A post emerged on Lesley's Blog earlier today which has precipitated another post by me about this fool's art of ours - blogging. In hers she bewailed the lack of space and time in her life, that among the other needs of her existence, her blogging was suffering. It is a common problem (well, it isn't at all, only nutters like me and her blog so fortunately it is a very rare problem indeed, but anyway ...)

If you are thinking about starting a blog, I shall now pour my wisdom down into this post so that ye may see and learn ye the arte of ye blogger. 

1. What to call your blog. Now, you can be canny or dull. They will have forgive me for so saying but 'RevXXXs Blog' is pants (no comment about BpXXXs Blog, of course) - be creative, and for my part, be honest - be you. You will work over this issue for hours, trust me.

2. Your first post - you won't know what or why you are writing. You have no audience, no readers, no followers (you will learn that there is a distinction to be made between the two). So you will write some inane apologetic drivel (I can speak only for myself, not you dear reader) and either delete it immediately and get back to Coronation Street, or press 'Publish' and wince as you realise that you might have done something really silly.

3. Your first feedback - one day (and it will happen, however good or pants you are) someone will confess that they have read your blog. Loverly! They will not be the person you had expected and if you are like me and write some dodgy stuff, having such a reader who is a nice respectable old lady is alarming. You will learn to cope with that. Eventually, you will earn a follower - a member of that Confraternity Of Blog Followers who many years ago were denied the right to vote or eat with sharp objects. They live in the dark hours and feed on Blog material. I am also given to understand that they glow in the dark, but attract them you will. 

4. Your first Comment - more often than not from some anonymous sort who wants to offer advise! You learn quickly to moderate comments not not let them emerge freely. We love comments, good or ill - it tells us that what we are writing is being read and has engaged someone somewhere - QED the blog is justified. 

5. Counters and Rankings - eventually, in most cases, the blogger succumbs to the inner itch of wanting to know how many people read the thing at all. Google Analytics, Feedjit, Wikio, Technorati - all become sites you hastily join and add their widgets (toys, just toys) to your site. I guarantee you, before you have fed the kids, emptied your bladder or even turned on the kettle the next morning, you are looking at your Stats screen, and will probably be delighted by the numbers. Wow - eight people read me. You are now a Delinquent Blogger.

6. Frequency - oh yes, Delinquent Blogger, you will soon become addicted. Charts will show upward trends and you will soon learn that if you post a dozen times a day (you will even resort to banging out the odd You Tube clip to make up numbers) you get lots more hits. In an effort to resist the urge to dribble like a fool, you will take to caffiene and murmer gently to yourselves. 

7. Holidays - the time will come when you will need to prize yourself away from your hard-won audience. Quelle domage! Resist the urge to feel like you are letting people down by not blogging. The Glowing Followers have sixty or seventy Blogs apiece upon which to feed, and will be there when you get back. Take a  break, you have not let them down. Never ever ever be tempted to take wireless GPRS enabled gismos away on holiday - you will blog your holiday and that just isn't cool (unless it is a working trip to Jerusalem, in which case it is an act of charity and kindness - of course).

The thing is this - for anyone other than a paid professional blogging journalist, this is just a hobby. We all fall into the trap of thinking that our thoughts and words are needed, that we have a duty to blog, a right even. After God, family, work/ministry, prayer, self, sleep, coffee, toilets stops, oven cleaning, drain unblocking, nose picking, bum scratching and belching the alphabet - only then is blogging on the list of things we must do in a day. Dear friend, the minute it rises up that list is the moment to stop and take a break.

I will be soon opening the world's first Clinic for Blogging Addiction - don't let me see you in there, as the prognosis is poor, and you will find yourself surrounded by grey-skinned, stooping bulge-eyed Gollom lookalikes - all of whom have assumed the physical appearance of The Delinquent daylight starved Blogger!

...perhaps it's just me then

Fact is funnier than Fiction

For a giggle .... mostly!