Future Love

Asked on Facebook what was the sound-rack of my life I went, tongue not quite completely sticking though cheek, for Beep Beep Love by Gruppo Sportivo. Then Ewan found this YouTube link to three minutes of perfect Euro-pop from the mid 1970s. False ending. English with a German accent. Miming. A leopard-skin catsuit. I have the seven-inch vinyl single. My life, my soundtrack. So bad it's actually good.

Sneaking out the back door
Hang out with those hoodlum friends of mine
I wish those days, would, come back once more
I wish those days...

On Time?

So, here's the thing. How do you feel about punctuality?

I have never been to Africa but my friend, who regularly visits Nairobi, describes the church in the slum village he attends. The time of the service is 'Sunday morning.' Everyone knows that. The first person to arrive tidies round a bit and chases out any dangerous critters. The second person joins the first in singing. Over the next four hours people come and go until all have left. In the middle of this are notices, children's groups, fervent prayers, amazing singing and a long, long sermon plus a few other talks.

I love the idea. I could live with this. It is a concept that has no word for 'late.' Just as in the silent carriages of a train you get annoyed by voices that wouldn't otherwise have bothered you, only in a country with a concept of a starting time do we find lateness a problem. Or do we?

Clearly not all do. A colleague of mine was recently 20 minutes late for a meeting and then left 50 minutes early. It was a two hour meeting. Missed 58% of it. Not apparently bothered.

My church has a strange start time. It's 1015. I asked about this and was told it was moved because at 1000 everyone was always five minutes late. Guess what? Lots of people are still five minutes late. We could chase the start time to tomorrow morning and it would make no difference.

Although I penalise the late not the punctual, so I try to start things on time, there are a number of meetings here where there are simply not enough people present at the advertised start time to begin. Or the point of a discussion has to be explained several times in the first ten minutes.

If someone important to events or meetings is regularly late they steal time off those who were ready on time. The laid-back are cool about being late; the punctual become stressed. Should I become more laid back? I thought I was but constant late starts and constant over-runnings to compensate are taking their toll. Should I become more ruthless? Should I move to Africa?

I'm not sure I want answers, I am allergic to critters, but I feel better having got that out. Good morning.

Sentences

A few years back someone wrote out word for word what Ronald Reagan had actually said in an unrehearsed speech which many had thought outstanding. It was gibberish. Many great orators, speaking off-the-cuff, use curtailed phrases, non-grammatical repetition and other unintentional linguistic devices to keep the emotional grip. But when you write it out it is nonsense.

I wrote the following down the other day. I understood it completely at the time yet realised it made no sense. What do you think?

Well ... it's the presence of the outsider ... you do two years and you move on a bit ... my sole job you know was to shape, everyone had a turn to get in there as it were, yeah, yeah, it's the facilitative role, it needs more flexibility.

Try writing out a few word-for-words this week. It's fun. It's interesting. It's rarely as good in writing as it sounded live.

I Am

I am enjoying Karen Armstong's The Case for God immensely. She is a theologian who writes well.

One thing I discovered today is the Hebrew expression, 'They went where they went' as a response to the question, 'Where did they go?' You would give this answer if you didn't know where they had gone.

So what does that tell us about the answer, 'I am who I am' to the question, 'Who are you?' This is a great thought to ponder for those of us thinking about Exodus 3&4 in preparation for a parish weekend soon.

Memory Verse

Last night the preacher gave us a memory verse. It was Romans 5:5b:

God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit whom he has given us

I find it hard to commit to memory. I am good at remembering things so it probably is hard to remember. Why? Well just a thought but it is one of those sentences where the word order can change without losing meaning. You can jumble up the nouns and it still works. So:

The Holy Spirit has poured out God into our hearts by his love he has given us

God has given his Spirit into our hearts by his love he has poured out

God has given his love to us by his Spirit in our hearts

Love has given us hearts, poured out with the Holy Spirit for God

Now none of these really rock theologically but that isn't my point. The verse wasn't given to a bunch of theologians, or even students of theology, but a congregation which included eleven year olds.

I don't imagine love as a pourable substance, or my heart as a thing needing to be filled, or the Holy Spirit as the pouring mechanism. The metaphor is lost on me. If I reach for the memory verse some words come but not sense. Not easily.

Here's a plea. If you are going to use memory verses, for God's sake make them memorable.

Values

Bill Hybels wrote a book called Holy Discontent. It was one of those books I shouldn't have bothered to buy. Having heard an explanation of the title I totally got it and reading more didn't help.

His point was that personal vision always arises out of being dissatisfied. You've got to find the effort involved in change less demanding than the effort involved in tolerating the thing that needs changing. On a small scale it is why I can cope with undecorated rooms for longer than my wife. On a large it is why most churches never really go from big to very big. Big church's buildings are usually pretty comfortable places. Who'd want to cram more people in so some have to stand?

I was dreaming last night and a guy was sitting with me at a table and he asked me what my personal values were. I gave him my first two:

1. I'm liberal.
2. I'm open and straight with people.

To clarify (which I didn't do in the dream), I believe in giving people as much freedom as I believe God gives me and prefer life with fewer rules.

I believe confidentiality should be assumed not to exist unless requested. I try to give honest and unambiguous answers to questions. Exaggeration, secrets, silence, diplomacy, tact and spin are the understudies of lies.

Thing is, I was woken from this not unpleasant dream by the woman next to me asking if I thought her finger was infected (yes, I did) and I couldn't get back to sleep. Can anyone do that? What would I have said third?

So I reckoned a useful thing to do today would be to write down some more personal values. It's been a tough think. Because of the next one, I don't have many.

3. I believe in the value of intuition.

Often I simply know what to do without knowing how I know. In the past I have struggled to follow this up by 'showing my working.' I like arguments because they help me get there.

4. Let go and let God.

In the context of a conversation about everything with everybody all the time I find it best not to be rushing in to fix everything that isn't perfect. Or to get back to the beginning, wait for the holy discontent to get there.

Church Of England Newspaper September 2009

I wrote this column, my last for CEN, but for reasons I don't fully understand it wasn't published. So have it for free MSS fans.

Web-watching was given a couple of months off over the summer for time-wasting surfing/detailed research (your call). So?

Opinion is divided about social networking. On the one hand sites such as Facebook and Twitter allow distant relationships to continue, interest groups to share news and little chunks of virtual inter-action to light up dull days. On the other, organisations are beginning to ban their employees from accessing these sites during the day because they are time-consuming. I have a number of friends who criticise my use of social media yet, surprisingly, are enlivened by the bits of human concern and news I share from time to time which I have thus gleaned. One friend has kept a huge group aware of the recovery progress of his wife through a huge cancer operation. Posting once a day has been a lot easier than communicating with three hundred individuals.

How do you choose between sites? There are applications that now enable you to update your 'status' (what you tell the world you are doing/thinking) on more than one site at once. Tweetdeck is one such, and free.

Sometimes you get the impression that you have wandered into a world of alternative language on the internet. Plings, for instance, doesn't sound like it should be anything. Mind you, neither did tweets or blogs ten years ago. It is a site that '...helps people discover trusted information about places to go and things to do for young people. This information can be accessed through different websites, social networking and mobile tools and local authority portals.'

Ning is a place to go to create your own social network or join an existing one around a particular profession, skill or interest.

An absorbing exercise would be to google any word that sounds like it comes from a Goon show. Someone will probably have made it a social network. Ying tong iddle I po. Stick that in your search engine and click it.

Tim Davies is, '...an independent consultant and researcher from the UK, writing about young people's participation, social media and social change.' He promotes the '...effective use of social technology in participation and work with young people.' He knows what he is talking about, both at the cutting edge and in interpreting what he finds academically.

As politics moves, apparently inevitably, towards a general election and change of government there are few sites that offer much more than platitudes. John Prescott is a massive tweeter. If you want an example of not giving up then find him blogging at Go Fourth. It's dedicated to securing a fourth term for New Labour. You may find David Cameron's blog interesting – someone has high-jacked it. Visit before it gets closed down. An eclectic bunch of people contribute to the lively debate at The New Statesman.

I get confused (the sentence could end there but stick with me) when I read on one day that coffee causes cancer and on the next that it stops heart disease, or something similar. Shared cups at communion – good or bad? The NHS Choices site has a good article about how to read the newspaper headlines.

I don't plug many shopping sites but Mydeco, a fashion and design hub, has a nifty piece of freeware to enable you to design your own room in 3D.

Useful for church administration is Moo. Here you can customise your own business cards, postcards and other publicity, or choose from a range of off-the-shelf products.

A Google application that can be used well by larger staff teams working from separate locations is Google Calendar. It enables individuals to access each other's diaries on-line.

For those about to travel, Digihitch collects stories, tips and advice about hitch-hiking, back-packing and budget travel. Paste the URL into whatever portable device you are taking with you. Closer to home, Liftshare is a site where you can find someone travelling your way and share the journey.

Previous columns archived on my blog.

Doubting and the Baptist

In asking for ideas for writing about John the Baptist yesterday I didn't explain that I was preparing Bible study notes for 11-14 year olds. So a massive theme of doubt, as requested by some of my Facebook friends and Twitter followers, may be a bit too complex. But it was a brilliant thought. We preach certainty far too often. It's not there in the Bible as often as we think it is.

The Old Testament prophecy of a voice in the wilderness (Isaiah) and a new Elijah (Malachi) had lain dormant for four centuries. Was the Lord going to do something? People surely doubted.

John's Father Zechariah met an angel in the temple. 'You will have a son.' He doubted and was struck dumb.

The baby is born to Elizabeth in old age. How do the people greet the news? Questions, alarm and astonishment. Or doubt, to put it another way.

Some years later John starts preaching in the wilderness. He baptises Jesus and there is some heavenly vocal work with special effects to authenticate the Son. Later, in prison, John sends a message with his disciples to Jesus, 'Are you the one, or is someone else coming?' Doubt you see. Even in the face of apparently overwhelming evidence. The John who John's Gospel (a different John) told us was certain was unsure all the time.

Later Herod is tricked by his lover's daughter into having John killed. He seems to doubt the wisdom of this. But he cannot back down from a public promise. So John dies. Randomly. Cruelly.

Can we be sure of the authenticity of all these tales? Can we, who haven't seen, have the faith of those who had but still doubted?

Acting as if something is true, without proof. That's faith. If there was no doubt there would be no faith.

Malcolm Tucker Appreciation Society

'I'd use the carrot and stick approach. Take the carrot and shove it up his ass, followed by the stick, followed by a knobblier carrot...'

Loving The Thick of It.

When to Stop

Less is more. As one who is beginning to embrace minimalism, this is my mantra. It works in so many areas of life. I have spoken to a number of artists who have ruined good pictures with one further brush stroke. Shop windows have too many goods on display (in Japan a big shoe shop may have a single pair in the window). Parish ministry requires fewer interventions than you imagine. Priests can over-rate their self-importance.

One technique which would be much blessed by less is speaking. Not just shorter talks, although I am writing this during quite a long talk of which more later, but conversation.

How many times have I been engaged in a chat with someone who has responded to a point, then made another, then changed the subject then told a related story until it is almost impossible to get back to the thing you were interested in discussing in the first place. Hi Mum, by the way. I recently had a colleague who had the capacity to make an interesting story so dull through excessive length that only some hours later did I realise I had been amused.

Now to this long talk. There is a peculiar sensation one feels when listening to a speaker who does not know how to bring their presentation to an end. It is like watching the driver of a car with failed brakes working out that they are going to have to use a hedgerow to bring their pride and joy to a halt. That driver will always consider that there may be an easier stopping place round the next bend; this speaker is constantly convinced that the next story, the fifth since suggesting all was finished, will be a softer landing. Notes have been placed, closed on the table. We have got to questions. One more dab of paint for perfection. Damn.

Note to speakers. Write the end first. Write the end of the end first of all. That is what you wanted to talk about. Say nothing, nothing at all, after that. It is the presentation skills equivalent of checking your brakes.

Krakatoa and the Alabama 3

A sign behind the bar at Bristol Academy warns that those looking under 21 will be required to produce identification. That's all the bar staff then, or is it that I'm getting real old now?

Anyway Krakatoa will have to find their i.d. for sure. Five lads from London with a swaggering, staggeringly confident attitude. Lead single modelled on Liam Gallagher, staring aggressively at the crowd during instrumental breaks. Guitarist playing chopped bar chords using his thumb as a bridge and walking erect like Wilko Johnson.

We tick off the influences - Beatles, Oasis, Stone Roses, Hard-Fi, The Coral, Dr Feelgood of course - and wonder if these guys are going to be big. They are certainly tight. The all-white male band, Fred Perry polo-shirt look, Remembrance Sunday dedication - we wonder if this is a band who have appeared on charges for racism. We can't make out enough of the lyrics to tell their views. But we know the Alabamas are famously anti-racist and wouldn't have Krakatoa on their bill if they meant trouble. So we are judging by appearances too. Suckers us.

Anyway the Alabama 3. If you haven't been keeping up here's a potted history. There's more than three of them and they're not from the States. They wrote the theme tune to the Sopranos 'Woke up this Morning' which, according to their web site 'earned someone a swimming pool but it wasn't us.' It appeared on their first album back in 1997. They are touring a new album which isn't ready yet. They are famously mashed and audiences regularly mellow. They don't sing their songs; they perform. Audiences will sweat.

Following a short DJ set from The Mountain of Love (the name given to their harp blower and onstage analog fascist and sequencer controller), along with a generous array of new tunes, they gave us several from that first album and one or two from all the others. Larry and D. Wayne have an onstage duel of witticisms a couple of which are coherent, there's lots of pointing at soloists and a bit of choreography during Hypo Full of Love (this may be a drugs reference ladies and gentlemen). Keyboard player The Spirit blond, waif-like and entering the stage in a fur coat and bowler hat tips up his organ from time to time but never really becomes Keith Emerson. Mrs T has accompanied me previously and sent a message, 'Tell me if he's still alive.'

They are a blend of country, acid-house, gospel, hip-hop and something I don't rightly recognise D. Wayne but I'll be on my knees repenting at the first Presleytarian Church of Elvis the divine as soon as I get it. I allow myself to laugh inwardly as we sing the anthem 'Let's Go Back to Church.' Then everyone else gets the chance (if only they knew) to laugh at me singing that the devil has the best tunes.

This band makes me laugh (at myself mainly), makes me dance and is not meant to be a serious spiritual proposition. It's an act. Fantastic evening.

Thick Skinned

Those of us who have a public profile, however slim, have to be used to taking flak from time to time. I went to a training session recently where it was suggested that clergy have to deal with this especially. I didn't agree. Anyone who has been a shop assistant, bank clerk or waiter to name but three will have experienced being in the front-line of crap catching on a daily basis. Those clergy who have never had a public service job may find themselves less able to deal with this than others. If you wear a uniform you will be an object to others, rather than a person, representing an organisation with which they want to get cross. Or even a God with whom they don't quite see eye to eye.

I can't imagine how bad it is to be in a position where, due to the nature of our oppositional politics, you will get crap whatever. You make a generally good point and 90% of the time will then focus on the 10% of your argument that wasn't quite there.

You take you time making a decision - you're a ditherer.

You make snap judgements - you're too hasty.

And if you're Prime Minister you don't represent anyone. The buck absolutely stops on your desk.

My skin is thick. OK all of me is. Can't imagine how thick it would have to be to step up to the next rank. Pray for our politicians this Remembrance Weekend. None of them, none of them, send armed forces personnel into danger without due thought.

Drugs Advice

Today Shavings welcomes drugs expert and government advisor Arthur Rizla-Paper who will answer your letters and emails on drugs and government policy. Let's take some questions:

From Edith Wideyed of Dorset
I seem to be having difficulty sleeping although I haven't changed my routine at all. Have I somehow become intolerant of the three cups of espresso I drink after supper?

Arthur Rizla-Paper writes
Yes Edith, caffeine is a dangerous drug and should be banned.

From Fred Tumblerful of the second bench from the left, Town Park, no fixed town
My earnings have gone down considerably since I left the bank under a cloud last year and my health is suffering. Is it anything to do with this, damn almost empty, bottle of Scotch in my pocket?

Arthur Rizla-Paper writes
Yes Fred, alcohol is a dangerous drug and should be banned. I hope you find yourself sleeping under this advice column before it's too late.

From Elsie Yellowfingers of Belfast
I have this terrible, persistent cough and a tremor in my left hand. How can I light my cigarettes?

Arthur Rizla-Paper writes
Oh dear; nicotine is a dangerous drug and cigarettes should be banned. Sadly you can still buy them at supermarkets although I note the dangerous Turkey Twizzlers have been removed from shelves.

From Ben Jerry in Dundee
I have eaten chocolate chip ice-cream for breakfast since I was three years old. Has this had something to do with my incredible sensitivity to the cold? Is ice-cream a dangerous drug which should be banned?

Arthur Rizla-Paper writes
No Ben. I imagine that anyone daft enough to eat ice-cream for breakfast is also too stupid to wear a coat in a Scottish winter.

From Mr Spliff Bong of Whocaresman
Hey this is a cool column. Wanna drag?

Arthur Rizla-Paper writes
Yeah baby let's blow a stick. Oh damn, I can't, it's banned.

From Mr Nutt of the dole queue
As a former government consultant on drugs matters I'd like to congratulate you on your sanguine advice. Do you think you are campaigning against government policy?

Arthur Rizla-Paper writes
Who's campaigning? I'm just answering questions. Hang on, the phones ringing...

Well as Mr Rizla-Paper wanders off to get the phone we imagine he'll be tied up for a while so we'll close it there. Thanks very much Arthur and good luck in whatever career you opt for next.

With acknowledgement to the late Miles Kington, who did this sort of thing rather well from time to time.

Preaching on Sin

Any questions posed in this post do not necessarily represent the views of the author.

There's a discussion going on at Facebook's Hermeneutics Cafe. It concerns the nature of our preaching about sin. On the back page of last week's Church Times Bishop Spong said:

'Christian theology has been based on bad anthropology. The cultural image of what constitutes the Christian religion is the primary reason the Christian Church is declining throughout the developed world. Human beings are not fallen, lost, victimised by original sin, or needing to be saved, as we have for so long taught. Human life was never perfect, and thus could never be fallen. We have always been evolving into what we can be, and the Christ life and Christ message is to empower us to become deeply and fully human.'

I know a lot of you will disagree with this, or at minimum find it inadequate, but I wonder if I can restrict comments to this question: Can we continue to call ourselves a religion of the Book if we hold Spong's point of view? If we do we would have to say something like this about various texts:

The metaphor of the Garden of Eden is simply placing human potential against human reality in the context of a story.

Jesus' understanding that he came to seek and save the lost (Luke 15 inter alia) is now to be reunderstood as a discovery rather than a relocation. Or maybe we weren't actually lost, we knew where we were, but we are now somewhere better.

It is quite head-spinning but I think it's worth the effort to at least try to be biblical and post-modern.

Father Ted

Very much enjoyed Mike's take on women priests as seen from Craggy Island. Read it here.

Advent

Really great Advent calendar for £5 plus £2 postage from Beyondchurch at Brighton. It uses beach huts as the doors and has images of a great Advent event from last year on the reverse. And it helps my friend Martin's business and ministry I shouldn't wonder. All the cool people will have one.

This year the event is repeating. Every day of Advent they will use a different beach hut to display something of significance. Real things. Real doors. Mulled wine and mince pies. Brilliant.

Haunting Verse

Deuteronomy 6:10-12 was mentioned in passing in a sermon last night and it has niggled me again.

When the LORD your God brings you into the land he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give you—a land with large, flourishing cities you did not build, houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant—then when you eat and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the LORD, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.

Not forgetting God. Good idea. Main point. I buy it. But. There are some verses where you take your shoes and socks off because they are holy ground. But this one. Do you see the problem? Let's try a paraphrase to help:

Remember God promised you land one day? Well he's been scouting around and he's found some. It belongs to someone else but don't let that worry you. Move into their cities and kick them out. Move into their houses and take their property. Then, when you sit back and eat the olives and drink the wine of those people, who by the way you are to slaughter by and large, don't forget who found the estate agent.

Taking the land of others is so wrong, now that most borders are fixed, that it takes us a while to jump back to a time when indigenous peoples were still working out who had a right to what. Right up to the late eighteenth century the attitude of the strong around the world, was that they could take whatever they could get. The Brits were just about the last Empire to do that. Indeed we had control of Palestine for the first half of the twentieth century. We repent now. If we try to make our green and pleasant land a welcoming place for strangers with generosity to asylum seekers it is only redressing the balance. Hope we continue to.

But that this act of violence towards the Canaanites - Palestinians if you like - is enshrined in Scripture as an act approved by God. Did he? Or did Joshua and the gang do it and assume it had God's blessing afterwards because they won. The winners write a lot of history.

Over the next three millennia most world powers and empires had a go at Palestine. Since 1947 the State of Israel has been allowed to exist in international law but, as we all know, it is not accepted by all in the Arab world and Deuteronomy 6:10-12 smells horrid without contextualisation. It does not condone kicking other people out of their land as a principle. It says that whatever military victory you achieve, whatever your circumstances, do not forget your maker. And if you remember your maker you might just want to apologise to the family you threw into the garden in order to sleep on their beds. Or am I missing something?

Happy Halloween

Just a quick reminder today, Christian chums, to avoid saying that the commercialisation of Halloween will draw people a little closer to the dark side if we will be moaning, in a month or so's time, that the commercialisation of Christmas will lure people away from its true spiritual meaning. Joined up protest please.

Brummie Alphabet

Language warning. The easily offended will be. Stop reading now.

Correspondence in the Guardian this week has spoken of the non-phonetic alphabet. It begins with:

A for horses
B for lamb

I recall my Dad telling me the RAF used this during the war years but could never remember much of it. So a few years after I started going to pubs I sat down with some drinking friends and we devised the Brummie alphabet. It's not that clean. Went a bit like this:

A for 'orses
B for lamb
C for miles
D for kate
E for brick
F for vescent
G force
H for train
I for tower
L for leather
M for cream sherry
N for the moor
O for a thousand tongues
P for ages
Q for tickets
R for Askey
S for Rantzen
T for dentures
U for cough
V for Las Vegas
W for quits
X for breakfast
Y for biscuits
Z for bollocks

All of them work (say them quickly) except for the last one which had that wonderful Brummie resignation about it that said that things don't work out, shouldn't work out and sometimes you just have to say bollocks.

Sod's Law

My gym holdall hangs lifelessly, inside-out from the rotary washing line in the garden. My wash-bag is dripping over a towel in the spare bedroom. The unwashable cardboard inners to both these things have been wiped down and sit in various basins. My plastic over-trousers are hanging in the shower, dripping dry. Suds come up from the plug-hole whenever I use a basin. The clean duvet cover, bed-linen changed not half an hour before, has a couple of large orange stains on it.

Sod's law says that if something can go wrong it will.

The second inversion says that this will happen at the worst possible time.

The third inversion adds that this will take place so as to cause maximum inconvenience and expense.

So, which of the three bottles of shower-product in my gym bag spent three days upside-down with the top slightly open? Was it the £1 bottle of quarter full tea tree and mint shampoo from Tesco? Was it the £7 bottle of half full American Crew conditioner? Or was it the new, full £16 bottle of Molten Brown shower gel?

And did I discover it as I took my stuff out of the wardrobe? Or did I only notice once my bag had sat on the newly changed bed for a few minutes while I tracked down clean gym kit?

And was this at a quiet moment in the day or just before I was heading out for an appointment?

Do you have to ask?

By the way the plastic over-trousers were sitting at the bottom of the wardrobe under the gym bag and caught the leakage in there, preventing damage to the wardrobe floor. So there is some good news. Also, the whole house smells lovely.

Thank you. Good morning.

Visiting

People like to see Bobbies on the beat but Bobbies reckon to solve more crime by being pro-active not reactive these days. Fewer than 10% are on the beat at any one time, so I gather.

I'm going to write a few pastoral thoughts on visiting. Usually, on feeling like writing pastoral stuff, I go and have a beer until the feeling wears off. But I have a cold Becks and am back at my desk. Gonna nail this.

This visiting thing. I was talking to a few fellow clerges the other day and was amazed at how many of them, as a matter of course, still do a pretty full, weekly case-load of visiting. Train their curates to do it too. And the thing is that it seemed to make not the slightest difference to the numbers of people who came to church.

Over the years I have encountered one or two outstanding visitors, especially in rural situations. At a pub meeting in one country village I heard about, a community leader said, 'Well the parson has visited all of us, let's visit him.' They all went to church at Christmas.

I don't especially enjoy the cake and old dears school of ministry so try to make sure it gets done by those who have a gift for it. By and large few people seem enthusiastic about having a coffee in Costa with teenagers or feeding young adults but I like doing that. So I meet with a pastoral group who help me pray for the sick, keep me in touch with other pastoral matters and tell me when a clergy visit is essential.

If people feel that a visit from a lay person is second class I have to say I give them a thorough lecture on every member ministry.

I have a second point. The guy who trained me in ministry felt that the daily round of parish visiting was essential and gave me a list. I felt a bit worried about daytime visits, always catching the women in and never the men. But I was told that I could learn so much more about people from seeing their homes.

As time has gone by I discover that a conversation is not badly lacking if it takes place at a neutral venue. I discover that many people make appointments to go and see professionals. Doctors don't stall on a diagnosis until they've seen the patient's lounge. So folk coming to me is a good use of my time. I can also demonstrate hospitality and let them see my home (people are generally nosey about clergy homes - mine has an open door).

I still do visit, but not just for the sake of a visit. I will visit those who I need to talk to about something specific. I will visit those who specifically invite me for a reason. I will visit, whenever possible, when the man of the house is in.

That country parson had a great Christmas congregation but they weren't back the following week. It made no difference in the long run.

Visiting. Not a great use of time. Better to be working to a purpose than merely 'on the beat' eh? Tell me I'm wrong if you like, but beware. I might have to come round for a chat.

Influences

David Keen has tagged me. I don't normally respond to tags or tag others but he did it so nicely and described me as an influence on his blog. Brilliant that you influence someone to start a blog and then they go off and do it so much better than you. It helps me to get in touch with my inner trainer.

So he has posted here about blogs who have influenced him and invites us to go and do likewise.

So my thanks go to Seb, who put me on to blogging in the first place but who has long since disappeared from my circle. One of the first blogs I found was Jonny Baker's. It's a hub of links to emerging church, events, photography (top class) and music with regular ideas for worship events and activities called worship tricks. I still call in a lot. Thanks.

Bishop Alan posts regularly from the higher echelons of Anglicanism. He makes good use of photographs and images to add to his well-written text. Expect comments on the church and the general news with Christian insights. Updated very regularly.

Simon, at Life, the Universe and Everything doesn't like religious faith (not sure I like the adjective 'religious' either) and says so. I visit his blog to find out what the opposition are saying and we've commented on each other's posts over the years. Possibly a sense of grudging respect might describe our relationship. I've enjoyed the battle of wits.

So, if any of you three read this then feel free to pay it forward.

Jesus on Wheels

Jesus makes it to the Victoria Falls. How impressive is that?

Repetition

One of the skills of writing is to avoid repetition. Most competent scribes prefer to find another word rather than using a previous one again. See what I did there?

There are some interesting exceptions. There are times in life when you need to say the same again. When asked what you're drinking, of course, to make the obvious gag, but also safety instructions. Nobody tells a three year old, who has just been burned on the cooker, that the instructions were clearly stated a year ago and listening should have been done. 'Don't go near the fire' needs to be a mantra for small children.

On the radio the other day Mark Lawson explained that writing about the internet was complex because there weren't yet enough words to allow for synonyms. 'Then don't write about the internet' was the advice of one of his fellow panelists.

When doing a piece of writing which will be read aloud I find it is good to have repetition to draw attention to a continuing theme or pattern. The end of my sermon on Sunday night was:

Is this a holy place?
Is this a holy time?
Are we a holy people?
Are you a holy person?

I think this was more powerful because of the pattern and the repetition. It summarised three points from earlier each of which began with:

The Bible says there are...

Holy places
Holy times
Holy people

By repeating the three, then adding a fourth to catch the listener out and personalise it, you pick people back up who may think they have been paying attention but had wandered.

As I have been reading though MSS and adding labels I have noticed that there are repeated stories. The same illustration, joke or expression has occasionally been used more than once. Great writers keep in mind everything that has gone before. I need to work harder at that.

Avoiding the repetition of common words is easy enough with find and replace facilities as long as you know what your problem words are. Avoiding whole stories in a piece of work with nearly 1,800 small chapters? Not so easy.

As I plough on deep into year seven of this project I suspect there may be more and more repeats. I will have genuinely forgotten that I said something about this (whatever 'this' is) before.

Dear Mr Griffin

I live in Somerset but I don't come from there. I come from the place of the Mercia tribe, Brum, although I am not descended from Mercians as they were defeated by one or more invading armies (Romans, Vikings, Mid-Europeans) and legged it to the hills of Wales and Scotland. So I am descended from those cowardly Mercians who remained to inter-breed with the invading armies as life settled down.

'Cept I'm not. Because my surname, so the records show, was changed from Tillé to Tilley because the Cornish couldn't cope with writing the name of the French labourers who had pitched up looking for work in the seventeenth/eighteenth century.

Now I would be guessing at this point, but population movement probably didn't make those immigrating-folk pure Breton. Frankly their record-keeping was a sack of pants (dirty) so I can't say with certainty. Italy? Spain? North Africa? Anyway they were all joined up once (a bit before people came along, I accept) and international boundaries still cause the odd dispute, you may have noticed.

Please help me. To where would you like me to return?

Doves

On the red button now and for a few days longer only - Doves live at the Roundhouse with the London Bulgarian choir. Not to be missed. Part of the BBC Electric proms series.

Labels

I have almost finished the epic task of labelling nearly 2,000 posts. If you are a new blogger please learn from this and do it from the beginning. On September 10th I said the task would take me three weeks and it turns out to have been double that.

I think I have become clearer in my use of labels as I have worked through the task so some of my early efforts might have had too specific a label, later ones I may have ignored some more appropriate possibilities. I'll tweak the system as I go but it gives a general idea of what sort of things I write about.

Click on a label and all the posts under that heading will be appear in chronological order.

Interesting that my key labels have been, in current order:

Church (which is, after all, my work)
Biography (by which I mean posts that tell you more about me than any other subject)
Life Skills (things worth learning or mistakes best not making - call it 'wisdom')
Music
Theology
Language
Bible
Politics
Book review
Football
Food
Family

I think this list does express my interests in about the right order. My family will all understand that coming 12th says nothing about what they mean to me.

Through on Goal

Having a pleasant pub meal with friends last night I carefully positioned myself with my back to a screen showing football. They'd not have had my full company otherwise. An atmosphere change, and the person sitting opposite me who could see it, told me something had happened.

It was the Fulham Roma game, 76th minute, and there was a crowd of people around the ref disputing a red card.

The replay showed a Fulham defender, the last man, tangling with an opponent who was through on goal and both falling to the floor. Penalty, eventually well saved by Mark however-you-spell-his-second-name let's try Schwauzer, given.

Thing is this. When I was a defender (stop laughing at the back) I often found myself in this position, mainly due to the incompetence of the other three, of course. It was in the days when a foul outside the box would only get you a booking. But I never fouled. All I did was run as close behind the attacker as possible. Usually they would clip your leg as they ran and would then lose balance and fall a couple of paces later. It always looked as if they had fallen without a touch from me and often I would get away with it.

It looks as if even this has been outlawed. So a forward, through on goal, now merely has to zig zag slightly to prevent a defender catching and coming past. Any clip, however minor, by a defender who is only trying to catch up, not tackle, is a red card.

So these days, if a forward is through on goal, it would be sensible to let them go and hope for the best. Most of them are rubbish anyway.

Peace Piece

You can get lost in jazz. Some, not all. Some jazz can simply get lost, unless you persevere. But the basic format of the jazz trio - bass, drums and piano - seems to me to provide the perfect place to get lost.

At the end of a day when I've tried to wind down and slow from frantic to doing nothing I discover an old track by the Bill Evans trio. Just a simple riff to bounce off, sometimes almost discordantly but always pulling it back.

Five minutes of giftedness. Watch and listen to someone else playing a short and simplified solo version of it here.

Bolt Bowling

You thought Usain Bolt was only a runner? Watch this slightly grainy footage of a charity cricket match. Bolt bowling, creamed for six by Chris Gayle and then bowls him next ball. Bolt then requires Gayle to acknowledge his genius as he chases him off the pitch. Brilliant.

Soft or Stern

We weigh up how we are doing in life by feedback. Only way to weigh (hey, hey), unless we just don't care what people think. And one of the interesting times is when there is no feedback at all. Am I doing OK? Or am I being dull? If nothing has gone wrong have I taken insufficient risks?

So someone takes me on one side and says how much softer I have been recently. That she used to think I was a bit unapproachable but I have changed. I point out, in my own subtle way, that I am an acquired taste and she has probably changed, leaving her to ponder if she was right the first time. Meanwhile an email arrives from someone telling me I have been a bit stern recently.

When they are shooting at you from both sides you are probably standing accurately enough in the middle. Not a good place to observe the battle.

Metaphor Watch

Giles Fraser on Radio 4 just now:

'It's come like a bolt from the blue and we're all trying to digest it ... it's not pie in the sky.'

So, the news is that the Roman Catholic church is going to be accommodating to those who will leave the Church of England over women bishops. The news has come like a tasty, food-like lightning strike which we have swallowed. We have discovered one thing it isn't. So what does it taste like? And does this bring to mind inter-church relations as a giant food fight?

Wordle

I redid the Wordle on the side bar and although the new one has come out more blurred than previous efforts I love the fish shape.

Celery, Apple and Stilton Soup

This will take two hours to cook. You need:

Two complete heads of celery
Two large onions
Two eating apples
A handful of crumbly stilton
100 mls of dry sherry
Butter
A spoonful of mascarpone per bowl
Old vegetables for stock
A garlic clove
A bay leaf
Salt and pepper (use celery salt if you have it)

The beauty of this is to make your own vegetable stock so nothing is wasted.

Put two litres of salted water on to boil with the garlic clove (whole) and bay leaf. Add the complete base of both celery heads, the onion skins, one of the apple skins and cores and any other vegetables that are decaying on you a bit, such as bendy carrots, outer cabbage leaves etc. Bring to a boil and then lower heat to a gentle simmer, check taste and season, then cover. Leave on for at least 90 minutes (the longer the better).

In the second pan place a generous lump of butter and melt gently. Add the chopped onions and let them sweat slowly for about 10 minutes. Chop all the remaining celery. Set aside a few leaves and one stick. Put the rest of the celery and the peeled/cored apple into the onion pan, add the sherry and bring to a boil for a minute or two to boil off the alcohol. Check taste and season. Turn heat right down, cover and put a double layer of damp grease-proof paper between the pan and the lid. Simmer for 45 minutes.

Remove celery pan from heat and set aside.

When ready to serve, sieve the stock and add the clear liquid to the soup mixture. Whisk or blend this as fine as you can get it. Check seasoning but remember that a slightly salty cheese will be going in at the end. Pass resulting mixture through a sieve into a clean pan.

Reheat and at the last minute crumble in a generous handful of stilton. Stir until melted in and check seasoning again.

For garnish, core the remaining apple and slice thinly. Quick fry the slices until golden. Add to soup with chopped celery leaves, quick-fried celery slices, a tea-spoon of mascarpone and fresh black pepper.

Serve with good bread and garnish. 'Tis an autumn treat.

Thoughts and Feelings

One of the contributors to a debate last night said that he'd been challenged recently that he was only making the decision with half his brain. Don't worry. It wasn't as scathing as that. It was simply a note that some people's decisions are emotionally led and others intellectually. It is good if we can register both sides. This person, responding to the question, said:

'I think it's right.
I feel it's right.'

Bang on. But not so easy for all of us.

How do you feel? The microphone is thrust under the nose of the sweating, victorious team captain who is asked to put feelings into words. Is it any wonder that 'over the moon' is the best that can be done with the English language in all its breadth and glory, at that stage?

I have a friend who, almost literally, seizes up when asked about his feelings. He doesn't engage with the world on a feelings level. At all.

I'm not so far behind. I don't find feelings particularly useful and rarely begin a sentence with 'I feel' unless I am deliberately choosing that language to engage with someone else. So how do I feel 'right now?' When I began drafting this I was sitting in a church meeting, awaiting the end of some discussions about details so we could get on to a vote about a big decision. I felt a little bored but by and large content. Perhaps weary.

Bored. Content. Weary. I don't find these words help me very much. None of them made the slightest difference to what I chose to do. However bad I might have felt, short of terribly ill, I wasn't leaving my seat. And having had the first word on this particular debate some nineteen months ago I was determined not to have any of the last ones but to let others report on their thoughts and feelings. I do find that a failure to get over-excited at small wins, or over-depressed at minor losses, stands me in good stead. 'Letting myself go' for goals, gigs and girl stops this being too pent-up.

I also get a little frustrated (there's a good 'feelings' word) at the repetition of feelings language. I don't find it hard to say 'I love you' but as a writer prefer to find new ways of saying things. There are more interesting traits than feelings. Or so I feel.

So there was this vision, 19 months ago, that needed chaperoning. I wouldn't swear to it but I think the first expression of it may have come from my lips. A vision to spend a huge amount of money buying a building the purpose of which God had not fully revealed. Still hasn't. I thought it was a good idea then. I still do. But now a Council of the Church has voted in favour of it with no-one against.

It will cost the equivalent of each member of our church finding £4,000 over the next couple of years which means a few sacrificial decisions. Something from our savings pot for a retirement property? Cancel a couple of holidays? Abandon the car? Donate all my writing royalties? Waive my expenses. That is the sort of order we are talking about.

I'm glad it wasn't simply led by feelings but, if I'm honest, it was even less than that. It was a hunch. Which became a vision. Which became a reality. Now I feel we must go to work. Think so too.

The Old Rectory Project is go.

Massive Attack - Swindon Oasis - 3/10/09

Since buying the vinyl seven-inch of Safe from Harm in 1991 Massive Attack have been a part of my personal soundtrack. Hugely influential yet somehow indefinable. Even the trip-hop label, invented to find a box into which to place them, failed to do them justice and they regularly rejected it. The early 1990s signalled that the creative heart of developing pop had driven down the M5/M6 from Manchester to Bristol.

But in all that time I have never seen them live.

A support set from long-time collaborator Martina Topley-Bird was wondrously creative. From the understated early-set tunes over subtle click-track and live drums alone, to the astounding virtuosity of a female beat-boxing double-bass player (honest) I was truly entertained. What a voice she has.

Massive Attack displayed their many vocalists, including the gorgeous tones of Horace Andy, some new material and a raid on the back catalogue including several from Blue Lines and Mezzanine. Most of the old tunes were remixed and reunderstood for 2009 which, for me, made it a show and not the equivalent of a band on stage pressing play on their own MP3s. You could sing along but there was so much more to enjoy too. Two hours of fine music which showed many sides to them and to some extent split the constituency. Some talked in the quieter moments of the beautiful Teardrop; others left for the bar during the more industrial heavy sections. For me, that they do both so competently is part of the attraction.

This band has brought the 50 something late 1980s audience along but welcomed the young too. Possibly Blue Lines has been the soundtrack to many bedroom fumblings. One couple near us certainly needed to get a room, lay-by or cleaning cupboard.

The other side of a Massive Attack gig is the politics. A back projector reminds us of the wealth of bankers, the carbon-footprint of aeroplanes and the cost of basic drugs. You aren't allowed merely to love the band; you have to listen to the cause.

A joy.

Great Questions 5

What's the point of remembering it if you've written it down?
(Alastair King - CPAS 1998 or so)

Great Questions 4

How would you explain this problem to a six year old?
(101 Ways to Generate Great Ideas - Timothy Foster)

Great Questions 3

Why has there never been a famine in a country that is a democracy with a relatively free press?
(P.J. O'Rourke, All the Trouble in the World)

Great Questions 2

'If you think your God's so wonderful, why do you sing such bloody horrible songs?'
(Bishop James Jones' Postman)

Great Questions

Over the years I have always ben interested in people who ask the right questions. I have tried to ask the right questions myself at every opportunity. Here's a great question:

'Will I discover why I was born, before I die?'
(Bernard Levin, 60th birthday article, The Times, January 1991)