Last night I attended the licensing service for one of my former colleagues who has just moved to another parish, which in reality means he now serves the other side of the same parish boundary.  It was the first time I'd attended such a service and, whilst I was pleased and privileged to be there, it only brought out the non-conformist in me all the more!

Apart from the fancy dress, processions and pompous language (which even the Bishop made jokes about) there were aspects of the whole procedure I found challenging.  I had often wondered quite why early Baptists had such a problem with the swearing of oaths because it isn't really part of my experience (apart from when I did jury service) - last night as I listened to these 'clerks in holy orders' swearing all manner of oaths, I began to understand.

I found the presence of so many local dignitaries and the welcome by the MP (who clearly was not in Bournemouth, something the Bishop commented upon) a little bizarre.  Not because I have problems with civic representation but because the whole thing suddenly became a state ceremony somehow.  I don't know if this is typical.

After the service I had a chat to our remaining priest (who retires early next year, so the whole rigmarole will happen again...).  I commented on the oath of allegiance to the crown - and was corrected, no, not to the corwn, but to the Queen (and her heirs and successors) as head of the Church of England.  He then said, he'd have problems swearing allegiance to her most likely successor who wants to be 'defender of faiths,' something he saw as contra to being head of a Christian church, but which to me seems entirely in keeping with early Baptist thought.  Interesting.

Even the buffet seemed somehow Anglican!  Tiny smoked salmon or cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, cherry tomatoes cut in half and plates of bought cakes (I mean, whatever happened to good old chapel ham sandwiches, slabs of fruit cake or Victoria sandwiches?).   Even the small talk was dominated by people trying to catch the eye of the Bishop (who clearly had the misfortune to be christened Bishop, since that's what they all call him... can you imagine calling Jonathan Edwards 'General Secretary'....?!).

I was glad to be there, and the service was not without its lighter moments - not least watching the Bishop try not to collapse into giggles as the choir masacred an anthem.  Indeed, it was so bad that one of the sopranos began laughing when she failed by miles to hit the top note.  That said, I was reminded of the story told of a priest who despaired of their congregation's singing, it was so bad.  One night, said priest dreamed of being in heaven, where God was giving a guided tour.  As they walked around, the strains of an amazing choir were heard, and the priest commented upon it.  God took the priest to a door and opened it so that they could see and hear the choir properly... Imagine the surprsie on the priest's face on seeing that the choir was none other than their own congregation...

Which all goes to show that God isn't too fussed about pointy hats, slabs of cake or creaky voices; it's what's behind it all that matters.  But I'm still clear why I am not an Anglican!!