A Skinny Fairtrade Latte in the Food Court of Life

If you live in the UK you've seen the advert for recycling that has this strapline, and are familiar with the 'reduce, re-use, recycle' mantra.  So, good Baptist minister person that I am, I am carefully sorting through the accumulated clutter of, hmm, well more years than I like to admit, from GB camps, holiday clubs and other weird and wonderful miscellaneous outreachy type things and compiling a list of stuff to give away or sell on to clutter up other people's homes or church storage cupboards.

So far the 'treasures' (?) in the heap include inflatable palm trees, police helmets, several brand new badminton sets, an assortment of floor cushions and some sparkly hoola hoops.  The vast majority of this stuff I paid for, though the odd thing was passed on to me by others 'because I'm sure you'll find a use for it' and I was too polite to say 'no.'

Friends and colleagues in the Leicestershire area are likely to be emailed with the list of stuff in case they can put it to good use (and not merely add it to their own clutter heap) and the balance will find its way to Ebay or Freecycle.  Hopefully I will then move north with less stuff to clutter my nice new home.  Giant inflatable crocodile anyone...?

In the chapel at the National Memorial Arboretum is a delightful carving called the a story-teller which depicts a Christlike figure telling stories to an audience mainly of children.  Most are rapt; one lad is leaning over the edge of the sculpture to investigate a snail crawling up the side (evidently what the child said when photgraphed in this pose!)  The photo here I found online - the chapel was too crowded to get a photo today when I was there.

What struck me especially on this visit was the caption on the carving 'the past is the key to the future' - a statement filled with hope but I wondered how true the reality?

One of the most poignant for me is the Shot at Dawn memorial, where plain wooden stakes bear the names of men and boys executed for 'cowardice' in the first world war.  It is set in a quiet part of the grounds, away from the main drag, where the sunlight first touches the arboretum.  There is irony and beauty somehow mingled in this quiet space, where these men can be remembered. A small plaque has been erected adjacent to the statue of the blindfolded man bravely awaiting execution which says: "On 7th November 2006, the British Government agreed to give a posthumous pardon to all of those executed for military offences in the First World War."  Nowadays they'd probably call it post traumatic distress... but what have we really learned?

The Armed Forces Memorial bears the names of around 15,000 service personnel who died on active service since the end of World War II.  To see these names listed is very moving... But the more significant thing for me was that there is space for another 15,000.  Where is the hope?  Not enough to say 'we hope we'll never fill it up' when the last decades names fill a substantial amount of space.

If the past is the key to the future (and I have sympathy with the statement) then how so?

If this place can keep alive memories of the human cost of war, can help us to articulate and explore questions, then maybe it might be a more hopeful one.

A last thought.  In the chapel the two 'thieves crosses' have hand cuffs dangling from them.  Those of the 'good' thief are open, symbolising his freedom through Christ.  For the 'bad' thief, one is open and one closed - a deliberately ambiguous symbol that says (according to the guide who spoke) we don't know what happened to him, but like to hope that he was on his way to freedom.  Somehow I reckon most of us are a bit like that - as Brian Wren expresses it 'half free, half bound by inner chains... yet seeking hope for humankind.'  Evidently around 80,000,000 people died in wars/conflicts in the twentieth century... may this past be the key to a more hopeful future as we remember, and having remembered refuse to forget.

In Ruth's comment on my last post she alludes to theology that is 'after the fact' - i.e. that is made up, oops developed, to account for practice, rather than practice that emerges directly from theology.

This made me wonder if all theology is actually 'after the fact' - arising from or responding to experience or practice.  This would make all theology practical theology (which from an academic perspective lays heaps of emphasis on its emergence form experience/practice) - something I seem to recall was said by Moltmann, though I may well be wrong.

I also wondered how robust some of our theology really is either - is it maybe actually 'after a fashion', with the phrase meaning, as it did in my youth, 'kind of'?  If I'm honest some of my phraseology around little cup communion is definitely 'theology after a fashion.'

So, if anyone can come up with an example of irrefutably 'before the fact' theology, I'd love to know what it is!

Not to be taken too seriously!

Talking with my Anglican colleague this morning, who has been sent guidelines for safer communion practices to prevent the spread of porkine influenza, and presumably plague, ague, and other nasties.  No more common cups until further notice - the Anglican communion will adopt the RC practice of communion under one kind only, though evidently the vicar, having purified her/his hands (two stations may be provided to accommodate those with theological objections to girls) with alcoholic gel may intinct for you...  Hmm, very meaningful to have a soggy wafer plonked on your hand I'm sure.

Apparently another local vicar has ordered in 2000 disposable individual glasses plus trays... non-conformity smuggly smiles I suspect.

But of course, our common bread roll or even our evil habit of tiny squares is not immune from this risk - maybe we should go over to wafers? Noooo!

So here is my grand plan (patent pending) for hygienic communion supplies.  Available in multiplies of ten from www....

Individually packaged Communion sets, containing your choice of one wafer (with or without 'little man') or one cube of slightly stale white bread and one tiny cup of wine (alcoholic or otherwise), ribena or grape juice.  Presented in tasteful plastic tray, hermetically sealed, autoclaved and with complimentary antiseptic wipe (alcoholic or antibacterial according to your religious preferences).  Quick and easy distribution to all members of the congregation.  Choice of liturgical colours (green, red, purple, gold, unbleached calico) or clear trays.  "Easy peel" plastic film guaranteed to make a very loud noise when ripped from the tray; wine topped with almost impossible to remove foil seal.  Allergy warning: females may have been present during manufacturing process.

Coming soon... new liturgical forms to use with our amazing new product.

I expect someone else has already come up with this idea, and done so better than I, but hey, it was fun and distraction from endless shredding...

When I used to work in the nuclear industry an increasing amount of effort went into what was termed "legacy issues" - basically work concerned with what happened after the stations were closed and decomissioned, as vital as the work done during their working life.  The next few weeks sees me doing "legacy issues" for church.  In a sense this is quite affirming - that people want to continue some of the intitiatives I've led seems on the whole a good thing, even if it does mean a lot of faffing around to pull together what they think they need.

Among the requests to date is some guidelines on how to do the lunch time prayer meetings for Lent and Advent, including "where do you get the sheets from" (er, I make them up!).  I am really pleased that people want to continue to meet for prayer in this way, and that they are ready to accept the challenges of hosting, cooking and leading.  So now I guess I need to get them some study books/guides to start them off (I don't quite make it up ex nihilo, I adapt study material) and produce some outline forms based on the various 'daily office' books kicking around my house.

If one of my legacies is that people continue to meet for prayer and fellowship, then that's a good thing.  Plus it gives me the confidence to offer something similar a few degrees north...

Finally, despite the worst efforts of my computer to lose it, I have a draft of my research proposal essay thingy sent out for comment to the two kindhearted souls who are willing to act as my supervisors. It is 1000 words over the limit (nothing new there) and I have bibliographic footnotes in places that take half a page - 17th Century Baptists didn't go in for snappy titles.  Alas the bit that pleases me most is that I have 8 sides of bibliography (single spaced), giving me vague hope that in another three years I might be able to run to the 20-odd pages that most theses seem to have!

The good news is I can now forget it for a fortnight.  Hurray!

Small things make big differences - anyone who thinks otherwise has never spent a night with a mosquito (according to Anita Roddick among others).  Other kinds of mites have a mighty effect too - as we have been discovering in dear old Dibley.

Two examples:

A couple of weeks back we all signed a card for a small church whose building was about to be closed leaving them in the wilderness - a place we know too well.  It cost us next to nothing, just a bit of time to add our names, but it meant a lot to the recipients.

As part of our clutter clearing, we uncovered three spare copies of BPW music edition (the red book) (after we'd kept a couple for ourselves) and a small number of BHB words edition (the green book) which we offered via our Association newsletter to any church who could collect them or pay postage.  Within 24 hours I have rehomed the red books and some of the green books to three other churches: two are HM funded, one very very tiny, one struggling as we are with extremist politics, and one going through a tricky interregnum.  All three are thrilled with our cast off, shop-soiled music books, two telling me they've been looking for a copy for ages...

There's a saying about the person who does nothing because they can't do much.  We've done a few tiny things and through them God will bless people we'll never meet... kind of reminds me of a widow with copper coins and a lad with a few fish butties really.

Sounds like a quick rendition of BPW 358 (without the emendation that removes the mite) is called for...

Just discovered that my old college has (finally) appointed a new Biblical studies tutor (here, for now anyway - no permalink on the site that I can find) an Anglican priest just completing his PhD and sounds like he has quite a lot of offer.  I am pleased they've got someone but, if I'm honest, disappointed there aren't any Baptists they could have found  - maybe our biblicism trumps our desire to get to grips with this complex work?  I do wonder how easy he'll find the transition to Baptist ecclesiological thinking, lack of hierarchical authority and the like, but I'm sure he'll bring lots of new insights from his own world.  I hope it is a great move for all concerned and that he and they enjoy a fulfilling future.

One of the summertime/autumn aspects of life in rural Dibley is the mysterious appearance of plastic bags on my back doorstep containing food offerings - yesterday some home grown potatoes and a large lettuce.  On balance of probabilties in the next few weeks there'll be a few tomatoes and several tonnes of windfall apples.

Moving to the city will, I guess, bring this quirky practice to an end - but no doubt introduce some new ones all its own... like getting paid in money rather than turnips perhaps?! ;-)

This evening I have been juggling my digital camera and various tables, boxes and books to try to get a photo to send to my new church for them to put on the order of service for the induction.  It was tempting to send my old blog photo - one of the very few photos of me I actually like, but I was six years younger and a stone lighter in those days so it wasn't very accurate... that and the fact I'm a lot greyer now than then!

So, I tried to get some more formal and some less so (with and without a jacket) but still reasonably authentic.

Seemed a good opportunity to change my blog photo - and I'm secretly quite pleased with how this one worked out.

Of course, if you want to see the more formal one you'll need to get yourself to Scotland in October...

Whilst I was at it, I've also moved things round a bit - not a lot, don't want to be radical or anything - so some links have gone and a few new ones have been added (but you'll have to look for them, it's called 'exercise for the reader' as I recall it from engineering maths text books).