Saturday 31 May 2008
Sorry Crewkerne!
Been away for a week on the boat; very peaceful and relaxing, but not dry; in fact, wet, especially last weekend with lashing wind and rain, so we stayed put outside a pub. Whenever we set out the weather goes crazy, and someone cops it. Last year it was Gloucester and Tewkesbury, and Hull. Last week inches of rain fell on Crewkerne in Somerset, all in about fifteen minutes. sorry Crewkerne, but it might have been our fault. I think there's a short circuit between out starter button and the clouds. You can all come out now. we're back.
Thursday 22 May 2008
Dazed and confused
Definitely time for a break. Phone call this morning as i was clearing the desk from someone who is reading a Biblical lesson in church on Sunday. Sorry to be dim, she said, but I can't find it! Can I help? Now, if you're not in professional ministry, what follows probably won't make any sense (it might not make sense anyway) but here goes.
We have something called a lectionary, which is a pattern of readings that runs for three years, so to work out what you are to read on Sunday you need to know which year it is (this is Year A). Then you need to know which Sunday of the year it is (this Sunday is Trinity 2). The lectionary the Church of England decided to use when it switched over eight years ago is a good one, and it' ecumencial, used by a number of Christian denominations. But as wsell as being ecumenical, the Church of England wanted to put its own stamp on it, so made some changes to the pattern and to the names of some of the Sundays. Nothing wrong with that. But then it allowed everyone to go out and buy copies of the unamended version of the lectionary without issuing a warning, or commissioning a proper publishing of what they had now agreed. Some churches spent a lot of money at this point (the lectern edition cost about seventy five quid!). Then another edition was published which was the Anglican version, and other churches bought those. So there were now tow slightly different versions in use. And THEN the second version, which fitted what the Church of England had decided to do, went out of the print, but you can still get the earlier version, which doesn't entirely follow what we do, but is close enough for you not to notice this until some snag comes up, like this morning. You following all this?
Anyway, the upshot of all this is that busy clergy like me get phone calls from nice but confused church ladies like this morning, and we have to go and help them find what they need and explain - again- the rather tedious story above and wonder - again- how an organisation like the Church of England could manage to get itself in this mess an provide its employees and members with resources that are not fit for purpose.
So, if you are reading this Sunday, Trinity 2, you'll find the readings under Epiphany 7 Year A. (Trust me on this one).
We have something called a lectionary, which is a pattern of readings that runs for three years, so to work out what you are to read on Sunday you need to know which year it is (this is Year A). Then you need to know which Sunday of the year it is (this Sunday is Trinity 2). The lectionary the Church of England decided to use when it switched over eight years ago is a good one, and it' ecumencial, used by a number of Christian denominations. But as wsell as being ecumenical, the Church of England wanted to put its own stamp on it, so made some changes to the pattern and to the names of some of the Sundays. Nothing wrong with that. But then it allowed everyone to go out and buy copies of the unamended version of the lectionary without issuing a warning, or commissioning a proper publishing of what they had now agreed. Some churches spent a lot of money at this point (the lectern edition cost about seventy five quid!). Then another edition was published which was the Anglican version, and other churches bought those. So there were now tow slightly different versions in use. And THEN the second version, which fitted what the Church of England had decided to do, went out of the print, but you can still get the earlier version, which doesn't entirely follow what we do, but is close enough for you not to notice this until some snag comes up, like this morning. You following all this?
Anyway, the upshot of all this is that busy clergy like me get phone calls from nice but confused church ladies like this morning, and we have to go and help them find what they need and explain - again- the rather tedious story above and wonder - again- how an organisation like the Church of England could manage to get itself in this mess an provide its employees and members with resources that are not fit for purpose.
So, if you are reading this Sunday, Trinity 2, you'll find the readings under Epiphany 7 Year A. (Trust me on this one).
Tuesday 20 May 2008
The Monkey Story
Here’s another blog I keep an eye on. A not uncritical view of army life and US policy and practice around the world. The Monkey Story is a good one.
You have no Plan B!
So, if you are a school governor, or a campaigner in one of the many planning applications in Britain today, this is how it is for many of us. Like Arthur Dent, we look out the window and find the bulldozers on the lawn. Protesting against the imminent destruction of all we hold dear, our Mr Prosser tells us that we can appeal (because our views are important to him), but advises us that we need to show that we have a “Plan B” if we expect to have any chance of success.
Of course at home we have no Plan B. We have no scheme for the future development of our home; for the more efficient use of the space it contains; for the re-development of the back garden; for taking in lodgers so that the occupancy rate of the spare bedroom is improved; for re-lagging the loft or replacing the roof or installing solar panels so that the place is more energy efficient. That’s because we have been using the place as it is for a number of years and by and large we’re happy with it. Of course we know that things could be improved, and maybe we would get around to developing a strategic plan for the future if we knew we had the money and the time to do it. But we probably wouldn’t. How would we feel if that supposed lack of future planning and development left us unprotected against any one who wanted to take our home away from us, demolish it, or move us somewhere else?
Today’s Mr Prossers, the box-tickers and bean-counters who have turned their attention to many rural schools, small hospitals, post offices, and will soon turn their attention to doctors surgeries, have come up with the very latest and most frustrating weapon yet in their bid to shut us down in favour of their latest Plan A. Leaving things alone is not an option once you have come to their attention. They can challenge us to produce a Plan B. And if we can’t, because we feel that the school /hospital /post office meets local needs and we feel no need to change it, then when we argue and appeal we are defenseless against some council committee, some adjudicator, some government minister, saying “What? No Plan B? Case dismissed!”
Of course at home we have no Plan B. We have no scheme for the future development of our home; for the more efficient use of the space it contains; for the re-development of the back garden; for taking in lodgers so that the occupancy rate of the spare bedroom is improved; for re-lagging the loft or replacing the roof or installing solar panels so that the place is more energy efficient. That’s because we have been using the place as it is for a number of years and by and large we’re happy with it. Of course we know that things could be improved, and maybe we would get around to developing a strategic plan for the future if we knew we had the money and the time to do it. But we probably wouldn’t. How would we feel if that supposed lack of future planning and development left us unprotected against any one who wanted to take our home away from us, demolish it, or move us somewhere else?
Today’s Mr Prossers, the box-tickers and bean-counters who have turned their attention to many rural schools, small hospitals, post offices, and will soon turn their attention to doctors surgeries, have come up with the very latest and most frustrating weapon yet in their bid to shut us down in favour of their latest Plan A. Leaving things alone is not an option once you have come to their attention. They can challenge us to produce a Plan B. And if we can’t, because we feel that the school /hospital /post office meets local needs and we feel no need to change it, then when we argue and appeal we are defenseless against some council committee, some adjudicator, some government minister, saying “What? No Plan B? Case dismissed!”
Monday 19 May 2008
You know where you are with a criminal
I always remember talking to a prison chaplain years ago. I asked him how he felt about working with criminals.
“You know where you are with a criminal!” he said. “They’ve done the crime, now they’re doing time. No messing there. I’d hate to be trying to work outside; politicians, bureaucrats, businessmen; you can’t tell which are sound and which are dodgy. In here you know exactly what you’re dealing with.”
And aside from the odd miscarriage of justice, one can see his point, or at least I can, after prolonged exposure to the labyrinths of power which pass for local government procedures and the consultative processes of participatory democracy.
“You know where you are with a criminal!” he said. “They’ve done the crime, now they’re doing time. No messing there. I’d hate to be trying to work outside; politicians, bureaucrats, businessmen; you can’t tell which are sound and which are dodgy. In here you know exactly what you’re dealing with.”
And aside from the odd miscarriage of justice, one can see his point, or at least I can, after prolonged exposure to the labyrinths of power which pass for local government procedures and the consultative processes of participatory democracy.
Your Views are Important to Us
“Mr Prosser said; “You were quite entitled to make any suggestions or protests at the appropriate time you know.”
“Appropriate time?” hooted Arthur, “Appropriate time? The first time I knew about it was when a workman arrived at my home yesterday. I asked him if he’d come to clean the windows, and he aid no, he’d come to demolish the house….”
“But Mr Dent, the plans have been available at the local planning office for the last nine months.”
“Oh yes, well as soon as I heard I went straight round to see them, yesterday afternoon. You hadn’t exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them had you? I mean, like actually telling anyone or anything?”
“But the plans were on display …”
“On display? I had to go down to the cellar to find them.”
“That’s the display department.”
“With a torch.”
“Ah well, the lights had probably gone.”
“So had the stairs.”
“But look, you found the notice, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Arthur,” I did. It was on display at the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying Beware of the Leopard.”
Douglas Adams
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
This is a not very much more exaggerated account of planning and consultation processes than the one we are currently engaged in locally. Last September one of our rural primary schools was starting the academic year with a headteacher and rising numbers of pupils. By October the headteacher had gone to another job and the county council was pushing through a policy for re-organisation that put schools like this one well below a threshold for “viability”. Suddenly we found ourselves in a battle for survival against a local government bureaucracy that seems willing and capable to use any methods to get its policy passed and implemented. But all while punctuating its actions with letters which say
“Appropriate time?” hooted Arthur, “Appropriate time? The first time I knew about it was when a workman arrived at my home yesterday. I asked him if he’d come to clean the windows, and he aid no, he’d come to demolish the house….”
“But Mr Dent, the plans have been available at the local planning office for the last nine months.”
“Oh yes, well as soon as I heard I went straight round to see them, yesterday afternoon. You hadn’t exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them had you? I mean, like actually telling anyone or anything?”
“But the plans were on display …”
“On display? I had to go down to the cellar to find them.”
“That’s the display department.”
“With a torch.”
“Ah well, the lights had probably gone.”
“So had the stairs.”
“But look, you found the notice, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Arthur,” I did. It was on display at the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying Beware of the Leopard.”
Douglas Adams
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
This is a not very much more exaggerated account of planning and consultation processes than the one we are currently engaged in locally. Last September one of our rural primary schools was starting the academic year with a headteacher and rising numbers of pupils. By October the headteacher had gone to another job and the county council was pushing through a policy for re-organisation that put schools like this one well below a threshold for “viability”. Suddenly we found ourselves in a battle for survival against a local government bureaucracy that seems willing and capable to use any methods to get its policy passed and implemented. But all while punctuating its actions with letters which say
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
When we contribute opinions, when we ask questions, when we seek clarification, we are treated as meddlers, mischief makers, nuisances. Then another letter comes back:
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
When we try to correct inaccuracies, they express dismay that the professional competence of council officers has been questioned. Then a letter comes round;
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
We offer to resign as governors, demand the resignation of the chief executive, threaten to block the lanes with tractors, and all we get is another letter;
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
Six months of this, and our volunteers are exhausted, even the most optimistic is despairing of ever getting our points across, but still they reassure us
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
All we want is for our school to continue to deliver its first class education for the local children, half of whom walk to school, all of whom love it very much. The council tell us that we must all work together; that consensus is what is required; yet everyone is in agreement against what they propose, but still they will not give in and do not listen.
Almost a quarter of the village population turned out today, got on a coach and came up to make their views known by their presence. Including several elderly ladies, and a gentleman suffering badly with Parkinsons Disease. Mums with babies on their arms. Dads taking a day off work to be there.
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
Almost a quarter of the village population turned out today, got on a coach and came up to make their views known by their presence. Including several elderly ladies, and a gentleman suffering badly with Parkinsons Disease. Mums with babies on their arms. Dads taking a day off work to be there.
YOUR VIEWS ARE IMPORTANT TO US
Sorry, but we find that hard to believe.
“People of Earth, your attention please. This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council. Plans for the development of the outlying regions of the Galaxy require the building of a hyperspatial express route through your star system, and, regrettably, your planet is scheduled for demolition. The process will take slightly less than two of your Earth minutes. Thank you.”
Douglas Adams
“People of Earth, your attention please. This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council. Plans for the development of the outlying regions of the Galaxy require the building of a hyperspatial express route through your star system, and, regrettably, your planet is scheduled for demolition. The process will take slightly less than two of your Earth minutes. Thank you.”
Douglas Adams
Sunday 18 May 2008
Love your enemies
The minister looked down from the pulpit.
“How many of you have forgiven your enemies?” he asked.
About 80% of the congregation raised their hands.
One old lady held firmly on to her handbag.
“Mrs Sweetley” said the minister, “Have you not forgiven your enemies?” “No” said Mrs Sweetley, frowning back at the minister.
“Why not?” said the minister.
“Because I don’t have any!” said the old lady, with a big smile.
“You don’t have any!” said the minister, “Mrs Sweetley, how is that you have reached the age of 98, and yet you have no enemies?”
The old lady set her face and snapped back,
“Because I outlived the bastards!”
“How many of you have forgiven your enemies?” he asked.
About 80% of the congregation raised their hands.
One old lady held firmly on to her handbag.
“Mrs Sweetley” said the minister, “Have you not forgiven your enemies?” “No” said Mrs Sweetley, frowning back at the minister.
“Why not?” said the minister.
“Because I don’t have any!” said the old lady, with a big smile.
“You don’t have any!” said the minister, “Mrs Sweetley, how is that you have reached the age of 98, and yet you have no enemies?”
The old lady set her face and snapped back,
“Because I outlived the bastards!”
Flee from the wrath to come
As I say, I haven’t written much about the dear old C of E lately. This is because it doesn’t feel all that dear to me right now, for a variety of reasons.
Last week I went down to a cathedral city where I used to work. I had read all about the terrible saga of former SPCK bookshops, and wanted to go in and see the shop I used regularly. All the staff I knew were sacked on 7 February. The manager is still working there, but for how long, we don’t know. The shop looks terrible. Downstairs is a pile of stuff that no-one wants to buy. Upstairs, the manager was filling the shelves with antique book stock that has presumably come from the former Charles Higham second hand store; loads of dusty tomes, books of sermons, ancient theology and Bible study texts that no-one could possible want to buy. I am rarely shocked these days, but that was shocking. I presume that those who now own these shops, if they are acting on any sane level, are simply stripping out the assets; this cannot possibly be any kind of real business plan. In the meantime, those who want to browse through today’s theological writing, find study aids for church groups, or just buy their candles and baptism certificates, must go elsewhere (where?) or shop online, I suppose. Deeply disturbing.
I enjoyed Victoria Coren’s Observer article on the McNoot Awards (“My Church Needs One Of Those!”), all about the latest in technological gadgetry as applied to so-called Christian mission in the twenty-first century. The accompanying picture is of a text message quotation from I Corinthians 13, shown quite clearly to be the King James or Authorised Version of the Bible. What possible sense is there in sending out messages with twenty-first century technology, written in seventeenth century language? It has long puzzled me as to why anyone should think that randomly advertising, posting, spouting, shouting, reading, texting, emailing or otherwise circulating unconnected verses and passages of scripture should ever have any noticeable effect on anyone. When I was child, waiting for the big steam hauled trains to take us on holiday, I used to read “The Wayside Pulpit” notices on stations, though I never understood them. I am old enough to remember the sandwich board men who walked the town centres of our land with placards reading “Repent and Believe!” It had no effect whatsoever on me, and I went on to get ordained. You can still see ranting preachers in some city shopping arcades. People, including me, cross the street to avoid them. What use is that?
One of the first cartoon jokes I can remember showed a man in a long mac with long unkempt hair and a long beard, wearing sandwich boards. In the first picture he is walking towards you, and the board reads “The End is Nigh”. In the second picture you get a rear view as he walks away, and the board reads “A Merry Christmas to all our Readers!”
Last week I went down to a cathedral city where I used to work. I had read all about the terrible saga of former SPCK bookshops, and wanted to go in and see the shop I used regularly. All the staff I knew were sacked on 7 February. The manager is still working there, but for how long, we don’t know. The shop looks terrible. Downstairs is a pile of stuff that no-one wants to buy. Upstairs, the manager was filling the shelves with antique book stock that has presumably come from the former Charles Higham second hand store; loads of dusty tomes, books of sermons, ancient theology and Bible study texts that no-one could possible want to buy. I am rarely shocked these days, but that was shocking. I presume that those who now own these shops, if they are acting on any sane level, are simply stripping out the assets; this cannot possibly be any kind of real business plan. In the meantime, those who want to browse through today’s theological writing, find study aids for church groups, or just buy their candles and baptism certificates, must go elsewhere (where?) or shop online, I suppose. Deeply disturbing.
I enjoyed Victoria Coren’s Observer article on the McNoot Awards (“My Church Needs One Of Those!”), all about the latest in technological gadgetry as applied to so-called Christian mission in the twenty-first century. The accompanying picture is of a text message quotation from I Corinthians 13, shown quite clearly to be the King James or Authorised Version of the Bible. What possible sense is there in sending out messages with twenty-first century technology, written in seventeenth century language? It has long puzzled me as to why anyone should think that randomly advertising, posting, spouting, shouting, reading, texting, emailing or otherwise circulating unconnected verses and passages of scripture should ever have any noticeable effect on anyone. When I was child, waiting for the big steam hauled trains to take us on holiday, I used to read “The Wayside Pulpit” notices on stations, though I never understood them. I am old enough to remember the sandwich board men who walked the town centres of our land with placards reading “Repent and Believe!” It had no effect whatsoever on me, and I went on to get ordained. You can still see ranting preachers in some city shopping arcades. People, including me, cross the street to avoid them. What use is that?
One of the first cartoon jokes I can remember showed a man in a long mac with long unkempt hair and a long beard, wearing sandwich boards. In the first picture he is walking towards you, and the board reads “The End is Nigh”. In the second picture you get a rear view as he walks away, and the board reads “A Merry Christmas to all our Readers!”
Comment is free (but moderated)
If you’ve tried to comment over the past week or so, you may have found things have changed. That’s because I’ve altered the settings. That’s because, I think, I can have a look first and decide whether or not your comment goes on for everyone to read. And that’s because some of you - you know who you are – I know who you are! – haven’t quite grasped the idea of anonymity. The other thing you might have noticed is that I haven’t written much lately about the state of the Church of England and my relationship with it. The two are connected. There’s some heavy stuff going on at the moment, and until I see how it’s shaking out, I’m not saying much. For the time being you’ll have to put up with local life stories and the like. Thanks.
Thursday 8 May 2008
Summer is a-coming in!
There are two UK Bank Holidays in May; we have understood that this was because a grateful nation wished to draw aside from day to day concerns and give thanks, on the first occasion for Tigger’s birthday, and on the second for mine, as they both always fall on or around those times. (What?)
The May holiday can be very, shall we say, variable, weatherwise. We’ve had some hot ones, over the last few years out on the boat in sweltering conditions, or at folk festivals in shorts. And we’ve frozen too. This one was not bad, and got better as we went along. Round these parts the Green Man still battles the Frost Queen for supremacy; if the Frost Queen wins, there’s no summer! (He won). Good to see the ladies with the flowers in their hair and everyone strolling in the sun.
Hal an Tow,
Jolly rumbelow,
All we are up,
Long before the day-o,
To welcome in the summertime,
To welcome in the May-o,
For summer is a-coming in,
And winter’s gone away-o!
So then, wow, went to see Oysterband! Third or fourth time, and always a good gig; makes you feel happy and angry and want to change things and dance (yes even me!) all at the same time! They’ve been at thirty years but still turn in a good set, and get through so many numbers, unlike some of these bands who set a mood with one song and then talk for five minutes, letting everything go flat again. Nice one for Tigger's mid-decade observance!
The May holiday can be very, shall we say, variable, weatherwise. We’ve had some hot ones, over the last few years out on the boat in sweltering conditions, or at folk festivals in shorts. And we’ve frozen too. This one was not bad, and got better as we went along. Round these parts the Green Man still battles the Frost Queen for supremacy; if the Frost Queen wins, there’s no summer! (He won). Good to see the ladies with the flowers in their hair and everyone strolling in the sun.
Hal an Tow,
Jolly rumbelow,
All we are up,
Long before the day-o,
To welcome in the summertime,
To welcome in the May-o,
For summer is a-coming in,
And winter’s gone away-o!
So then, wow, went to see Oysterband! Third or fourth time, and always a good gig; makes you feel happy and angry and want to change things and dance (yes even me!) all at the same time! They’ve been at thirty years but still turn in a good set, and get through so many numbers, unlike some of these bands who set a mood with one song and then talk for five minutes, letting everything go flat again. Nice one for Tigger's mid-decade observance!
Saturday 3 May 2008
Magic Bus update 2
For once we managed to correctly predict the weather. Yesterday was the best day of the week by far, and so a day out around the mountains and coast gave us some fresh air and sunshine, much needed after the past few days. T’s voice is returning, though she is, I think, post-viral and very tired. A alk on the beach, a stop by the lake, a good lunch , and a collection of phone numbers and details of sites we called at will all mean that when we do take to the roads in the Magic Bus, it will be a success! We do have this in common; a preference for prior research and a desire for information. Neither of us enjoy surprises, and planning ahead usually means we enjoy ourselves more. That’s not say that we don’t do spontaneous, just that we our version of spontaneous takes some planning and we like to know when and where it’s going to happen.
Magic Bus update
So, I’ve just come inside, having passed a pleasant hour sitting beside the Bus with a glass of wine, birds singing, sun going down, music on the new Bus CD player; excellent! Only problem is, we were sitting on our own drive with a nice view of the garage.
The Tigger came back from work minus voice, and plus a whole lot of other symptoms too unpleasant for me to describe to you. The weather was still foul. A phone call to the campsite confirmed that the field in question was very wet. So we chickened out and stayed put. We’ve done some more sorting and some fitting out, so that when we do go it will be much more straightforward. But we bottled out of our trip.
The Tigger came back from work minus voice, and plus a whole lot of other symptoms too unpleasant for me to describe to you. The weather was still foul. A phone call to the campsite confirmed that the field in question was very wet. So we chickened out and stayed put. We’ve done some more sorting and some fitting out, so that when we do go it will be much more straightforward. But we bottled out of our trip.
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