Back from Greenbelt.

Half a week holiday isn't very much for someone who usually gets one day off per week (if that) and hadn't had a holiday of more than 3 days since January.

So I decided to take the rest of August gently. I did some practising, but blew off paperwork and other tasks. I had a weekend away with Sweetie and actually did not go to church on Sunday for the first time in... over a year, I think. I went to Greenbelt, which was great.

Everything starts again tomorrow; phoning students to arrange my schedule, practising in earnest, printing music lists, planning Christmas services (or at least the music for them), trying to coordinate rehearsals, the lot.

I've blogged on my public, professional blog about some of my experiences at Greenbelt. It feels very strange to do so, like I've exposed some of my spiritual innards. But I think it's necessary if I'm going to find a voice on that blog.

I'm not planning on disappearing from here, but the more I blog about music here the less anonymous I'll get, so I'm going to try to keep the music stuff more public.

If I "know" you here and you want to read it, let me know your e-mail address and I'll give you the url to the other blog. But don't out me, please.

While I breathe I pray

I've been on holiday for half a week. It's been good to get out of London.

Cycling has been good; in London I've not been riding as much as I'd like, but I've not become as desperately unfit as I'd thought. Cycling is significantly kinder to my joints than walking is. I've been taking advantage of the fact that most countryside churches are left unlocked, going there to rest. Sometimes I'll say the Office or a psalm but more often I simply sit and breathe in the calm, quiet stillness.

Sweetie and I stay in a B&B; during the day he does martial arts training and I go cycling, and we meet up for meals and lovely relaxed evenings together.

The other night we were watching the Perseid meteor shower. It had rained, so the sky was lovely and clear. The first verses of Psalm 19 were made for stargazing, and I remembered them as we sat there:

1 The heavens are telling the glory of God • and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.
2   One day pours out its song to another • and one night unfolds knowledge to another
3   They have neither speech nor language • and their voices are not heard,
4   Yet their sound has gone out into all lands • and their words to the ends of the world.

It's been a lovely few days of that sort of quietness.

Yesterday I cycled to Glastonbury. I paid my money to enter the ruins of the Abbey and walked around the grounds with the other tourists -- pilgrims, even? -- mindful of And overwhelmed by the history of the place. Of course the line between history and legend is rather blurry there.

In a chapel with an altar I saw a notice politely informing me that "No services, prayers, music, ceremonies or rituals are permitted, without the written permission of the Custodian."

What a contrast with the unassuming country church where I'd stopped to rest on the way there. What a contrast with the spacious firmament on high, the stars ringing their silent witness.

My first instinct was sadness. I can understand that with so many different faith groups making some claim on the area it is necessary to have someone decide who gets to do what. But it makes me sad that humans have such trouble sharing, such trouble expressing faith in a way that doesn't threaten or condemn.

I suppose I'm one of these rebellious types, though... a ban on unauthorised liturgy doesn't, can't, stop me praying. A written notice cannot silence the music written on my heart. The notice really doesn't make sense. Sadness bubbled over into chuckles, then peals of laughter as I realised that, too, was a prayer. ...their voices are not heard, yet their sound has gone out into all lands and their words to the ends of the world.

Televangelism

No, not that sort.

"Watch 'Rev.'" said my vicar. "Watch 'Rev.'" said a handful of other clergy I know (where, exactly, did you all come from?). I don't have a television. I haven't watched television regularly for over a decade. But iPlayer came to the rescue, and I watched it...

...and yes, it was good. It was funny and serious. I think it portrayed quite well some of the challenges faced by urban clergy these days.

I wonder how many people watched it who weren't already interested, though. I wonder if anyone who doesn't go to church watched. I wonder if anyone who doesn't really know any clergy watched. I wonder if anyone who has been seriously wounded by the church watched.

I am not thinking about this in terms of converting people to Christianity or bringing lapsed Christians back to church, but more of the perception of religion and faith in this society. If one person watched this television program and thought, "Okay, maybe not all churches are prejudiced... maybe not all clergy are insufferable holier-than-thou hypocrites... maybe not all communities value conformity over justice or love or freedom..." then I would be very happy indeed.

It never rains but it pours

...and so for the second time in as many weeks I am asking you, please, pray for Margaret and her family.

Please pray for Margaret and her family.

I have been reading "The Go-Between God" by John V Taylor; a friend recommended it to me in the course of an e-mail discussion about mission. There are some things that are very dated, some things that I don't understand, some things that I don't agree with... but every three pages or so I read a sentence and think, "Yes, THAT! That is what I have been trying to say, that is what I have needed to hear!" I think this is a book I will keep coming back to.

Life continues. I had a nasty deadline a few weeks ago for a competition and lost a lot of sleep over it. The NHS has been giving me lots of physiotherapy for my dodgy ankle and it is, slowly, improving. My phone is on the way out -- same problem as the last one had. Teaching is winding down for the summer. Sweetie is sweet. Intrepid Anthropologist has submitted her thesis. The C of E is lumbering its way slowly toward more inclusive structures.

Any recommendations for books on intercessory prayer?

Table manners

When I was keeping kosher, and seriously considering conversion to Judaism, hospitality was important.

It was also difficult. Despite my best efforts, despite being committed to the laws of kashruth, there were some people -- kind people, good people, caring people -- who would not eat at my table because it was not kosher enough for them, not because they doubt the earnestness and diligence of my efforts or their correctness according to halacha, but because I was not Jewish.

Eventually I learned not to take this too personally.

The thing is, though, that nobody would have accused me of being prejudiced against Jews, or of purposely making them unwelcome. There was nothing I could do differently (save actual conversion, which in Orthodox Judaism is a lengthy and arduous process) which would have changed things.

Something I never experienced was people refusing to eat at someone else's home because I was also there, or because our mutual hosts might be willing to eat at my table. It simply didn't happen. In the community where I lived there were various interpretations of what "kosher" means, but the overarching rule of hospitality meant that if someone was Jewish you accepted their interpretation when dining in their home and you didn't refuse an invitation. Even if that had been the case, nobody would have claimed they were being persecuted because someone invited us both.

But that's what I see happening with groups wishing to leave the Church of England.

It isn't just that people won't take Communion from a woman, or don't want to deal with a female bishop. I don't agree with that response -- it smacks of the law rather than of grace -- but I understand it on some level, and I respect that for some people it might be the only way to move forward with any integrity, just as I respect that some Jews could not in good conscience eat food I had prepared.

But being invited not only to dine in someone's home, but also to help with the preparation of the meal, and then recoiling in horror when you find out who else is invited? And then claiming that those other guests are "persecuting" you for not sharing your interpretation of the law? What are we to make of that? If you invited people to dinner and they behaved like that, how would it make you feel? Lord, have mercy!

I have huge amounts of sympathy for anyone who feels they don't fit or are no longer welcome in a religious group with which they once identified strongly. I grew up in a Christian church and my family of origin was very much still involved in that church, and I walked away from that; I was fortunate, blessed even, that my family were understanding and even supportive, but it was still not easy.

And then, the reason I did not convert to Judaism all those years ago was not because my beliefs were incompatible (though they probably are now!) but because I did not think I could bend to some of the other requirements and maintain my own integrity. Not only did I end up leaving a faith community I had grown to love, but I had to admit that I had been wrong -- about myself, about Judaism, about how to live.

I have pretty big issues with the C of E, too, much as I am growing to love it; the structural changes which would make me feel truly accepted and welcomed are unlikely to even be discussed in my lifetime. (As an aside -- yes, I know I am complicit in these issues not getting discussed because I am not open about them ... I am still frightened, and with good reason. Lord, have mercy on on those who make the world unsafe for people like me, and on my cowardliness!) I respect anyone who takes a decision to walk apart. I know it is not an easy decision.

However, I don't think saying "Women are welcome" is persecution of those who are too frightened to extend that welcome to women. Nobody is forcing opponents of women's ordination to do anything. Synod has said, the majority of the church has said, "We are going to share this work more widely than before," not in order to chase away or hurt or persecute or reject anyone, but to finally include some of those who have been turned away and rejected for many centuries.

General Synod

Psalm 13 (Common Worship translation)

How long will you forget me, O Lord; for ever? •
How long will you hide your face from me?

How long shall I have anguish in my soul and grief in my heart, day after day? •
How long shall my enemy triumph over me?

Look upon me and answer, O Lord my God; •
lighten my eyes, lest I sleep in death;

Lest my enemy say, 'I have prevailed against him,' •
and my foes rejoice that I have fallen.

But I put my trust in your steadfast love; •
my heart will rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, •
for he has dealt so bountifully with me.

-----

How long will I feel ashamed of how the church treats women?

How long will I feel ashamed of how the church treats LGBT people?

How long will I fear to speak openly, even here, of those issues of equality and fairness which affect me personally?

I don't know. I can't know. I am sometimes too weary even to think about how long these things might take.

But if the Christian claim of salvation and mercy is true, if the Christian hope of unconditional love is true, it won't be forever.

That is the song I will keep singing.

Here's hoping and fervently praying that General Synod will be full of love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. (Thanks, @philritchie!)