A Song of Degrees... well, just the one, really

Got my bundle of post from Academic Institution.

I have been awarded a Bachelor of Music (Hons), Second Class Honours, Upper Division.

I'm rather pleased. I've certainly worked hard.

Addendum

I wrote in my last post about not knowing whether things are right or wrong, not wanting to engage in irrelevant debates, when what we ought to be doing (or at least, the nearest thing I can discern that I ought to be doing) is showing the people of the world that they are loved.

Denying someone's experience of their committed relationship does not show them that they are loved.

Denying someone the opportunity to practise what they have discerned as their vocation on the basis of the fact that you do not recognise or acknowledge their committed relationship does not show the world that it is loved. Denying the right of another church to recognise those relationships does not seem to me to be a loving action, either.

I don't know whether to engage in debate about same-sex marriage or about ordination of people who are in homosexual relationships. I don't have the background to do the exegesis; I don't even have the skill to contribute artful language. But if I implied that the debate shouldn't happen, if I implied that things are okay as they are, if I implied that the debate doesn't matter, I was wrong. It matters.

Perhaps if more people asked "How can I show God's love to the world?" instead of "What is right?" the debate wouldn't exist. I don't know.

And I don't know what my role is in this debate, me, the not-Christian-by-some-standards heretic, drawn to C of E prayer structures and attempting to live by the Summary of Law. I don't know how I can show love to the world in this context; all I can say is that even if the Church of which I am not a member (and may never be at this rate) doesn't recognise these relationships, I do; that even if the Church doesn't acknowledge these vocations, I do. And if I'm wrong to do that then may God have mercy on me, this mercy that we're all told of. I'd rather fall on God's mercy than tell another they cannot have it.

What's in a name?

I tried to post this as a comment on Nick Baines' blog, but I thought the internet ated it so I posted here instead. It looks like it did post there alright but it's long enough I'll leave it here too.

I think a lot of this has to do with labels and with fear.

There are some people who would identify me as Christian (never mind denominational distinctions) because of my worship habits and beliefs, coupled with the baptism I received as a baby. There are others who would maintain that I am a heretic, perhaps even a dangerous one.

There are individuals and communities which identify themselves as Christian and which I believe do God's work. Some have been profoundly inspiring to me personally. I would be honoured to be associated with such people.

There are individuals and communities which identify themselves as Christian and which I have seen do great harm in the world. I am not sure what they think God's work for us is, but if their beliefs are similar to mine (and to yours, I think) I fear they may be way off track. Some of them have hurt me or those I love very deeply. I regret that the associations some people make may mean they identify me as part of such groups of people.

At this point I do not feel comfortable calling myself Christian because of various doctrinal issues. Further study and prayer may sort that out for me and in the meantime if people ask I tell them roughly what I believe and leave it at that. But I can certainly understand how, if I did call myself Christian, I might be eager to make clear that I'm not like those /other/ Christians, the ones who do things differently, the ones who have managed to hurt so many people. And one way of making that distinction would be to claim some sort of authority over the word, to redefine Christianity to suit the exclusion of those who do what I can't understand, or, failing that, to invent my own term, my own sub-definition, so that I don't have to keep explaining myself, at least once the shiny new definition is commonly known... By then, of course, there will be more splinter groups.

I can only assume that most Christians who feel (or speak or write) strongly on issues of practice -- whether that is about gay sex or whether communion wine can be served in individual vessels or what adornments are to be allowed in churchyard graves or communion for the unbaptised -- see themselves as having devoted some thought and study and hopefully even prayer to the issues.
I can also assume that either some of them are wrong, or there is no universally applicable right answer available at this time. Personally I lean toward the latter. But it hardly matters which is the case, because we are all -- those I admire and those with whom I think I'd rather not be associated, those who have shown me glimpses of what I can only call holy and those who have left me with wounds and scars, those who have loved me and those who have feared me -- we are all of us human beings, unlikely to achieve perfect discernment this side of paradise. And all beloved of God.

I hope that when we all know this, and know it well enough to stay aware of it in all we see and think and say and do, the petty squabbles will be revealed as unnecessary. Sadly that seems unlikely in my lifetime. But I don't think I would achieve much toward that by telling anyone else whether they should or shouldn't do things based on my imperfect understanding of what is right. I don't even presume to tell people whether they should engage in such arguments. I merely hope and pray that I might, by my words and actions and God's grace, let people know they are loved. Learning how to do that, in my work and in my personal relationships, will keep me busy for quite some time...

Stillnesses.

Still alive.

Still internetless at home.

Still preparing for Celebratory Recital, which is tomorrow.

Still keeping you lot in my thoughts and prayers.

Home sweet home

We have signed the necessary bits of dead tree, and each been granted a set of keys.

Future Housemate shall henceforth be known as Intrepid Anthropologist. "Home" is now our lovely rented house in Upper Suburbia. There is much work to do and not nearly enough time, but it is ours to shape, for as long as the tenancy allows us to do so.

We celebrated with tea and cake and our first guest, Sweetie's father, who has kindly offered to donate some cutlery to the household. Not just any cutlery, mind you--cutlery he made himself, in 1954. It is a very special and very appropriate housewarming gift.

There are (at least) two fruiting plum trees in our road, and a handy stepladder in the kitchen. This pleases me greatly.

I got soaked through on my way back to the station. I don't mind.

Moving

In a spirit of preparation I am packing a suitcase. Sweetie, Future Housemate and I are meeting with the letting agent today at 1.30pm to, hopefully, sign contracts and get keys for our new home. I won't take the case with me then but I will want to have it ready to go.

It's interesting to do this, to figure out what I need in a new place to make it start to feel like home. In a spirit of more procrastination than preparation, here's a list of what I think I'll take:

My kettle. I love this little kettle! I pulled it out of a skip in Islington in the summer of 2004 when I didn't have a kettle and had been using an ordinary pan to boil water for tea (and washing-up, since the electric immersion heater I had in that bedsit was a much more expensive way to heat water than the gas hob). Took it home, cleaned it up a bit... and found that it works, it doesn't leak, and best of all it has a wonderful two-tone wail to let me know it is boiling, not piercing as some of the whistle kettles are but reminiscent of a distant train. I don't know what Sweetie and Future Housemate will make of it, and they may prefer to use a more modern electric kettle instead, but for that very first cup of tea in a new home it wouldn't feel right not to be using my much-beloved kettle.

Tea things, of course. Some mugs (enough for all three of us and at least one for a guest), and tea, and sugar, and spoons and a teatowel or two and I guess we'll have to buy some milk. A saucepan and a few bowls won't go amiss either, but that's more a practical concern than anything else.

Clean sheets for the bed; a pillow, and my duvet if it will fit. The flat I'm living in at the moment has become harder and harder to deal with, in housemate terms, and so I don't want to sleep there any more nights than I have to. My little rabbit, who I've had since I was small. And all the other sleeping things, and getting up things: towel (yes, I am a frood who knows where her towel is), toothbrush & paste, and so on.

A bit of piano music. I'm very much looking forward to having a piano in my home again after many years without. I can play some by memory but I want to set to work immediately on some of what I've been learning. And the other instruments I play need to come along, too, of course, though I can't fit them in the suitcase so I might need to make a few trips.

I'll bring my phone and charger, partly because it would be madly impractical not to, but mostly because staying in touch with my people is important. Too much isolation makes a home stop being a home, for me. The computer fits into this category too, but as there will initially be No Internet in the new house, it may just as well stay behind for a few days.

A rag and some soap for cleaning anything that needs it. I'm told the place has been cleaned before our arrival and certainly when we viewed it, it wasn't in bad shape. But there is something satisfying about finding the bit of dust that has been missed, about wiping an unnoticed corner of the countertop and saying, "There, there, house, I live here now and I will take care of you." (Those of you who know me well are laughing at this point and probably opening a book on how long it will take to become unbearably messy. That's not the point!)

Books. It might not seem like much but there are books that seem to make a place home or not. One has my grandmother's poetry in it, it is really like taking a piece of my prairie birthplace with me. I'll put a few others in too: short stories by Ursula LeGuin, perhaps a beloved cookbook or two. The number and type of books doesn't matter quite as much as their presence.

I've been praying Morning Prayer from the C of E website, and I can keep doing that through my phone if need be, but I want to start engaging with the books more: being spoon-fed liturgy by the internet is all well and good (especially when I am running late and the only time for me to fit the Office in is when I am on the bus or train...) but so is looking at various elements, especially the readings, in a wider context. So I'll be taking my copy of Daily Prayer, which I've scarcely touched since I bought it, and a NRSV Bible (I also have a Jerusalem Bible and a King James; I don't know yet which I prefer, and suspect it depends on the situation). I want to go to Morning Prayer at a local church sometimes but I doubt I'll be able to do it every day, and I want to establish the habit at home too. When we viewed the house there was a little table in the room that's going to be mine, and I'll put the religious books there. Also there will go my little oil diffuser/burner/whatever it is, the sort with a candle in the bottom and a cup for smellies in the top. I'll take that today too: there's much to be said for having matches and candles anyway, in case we have any trouble getting the utilities started (though this is arguably the very best time of year to have such difficulties).

Though I am not Jewish and I'm not even really very Jew-ish any more (I'll talk more about the difference some other time), I do sort of want a mezuzah. The Shema is still important to me, in a way that stops everything else even when I think of it. But I also want our home to be welcoming and comfortable for any and all who might visit, and I don't think overt religious symbols in communal areas will help much with that. I'm not sure what I'll do about this. I think maybe something to hang on the inside of the door to my bedroom would be appropriate. I'm waffling over whether I want the Shema or the Summary of Law. Some sort of illuminated text of either of them would be good. But I digress: this isn't something I'm putting in my suitcase today, it's something written on my heart.

The other ingredients that will make this place home definitely won't go into my suitcase, because they are Sweetie, and Future Housemate (I'll have to start calling her something else soon!). Their hopes and dreams for this place, along with mine, will do more to make it home than any of the objects I'm putting in a suitcase today. But the objects can be an expression of some of those hopes and dreams.

What makes a home for you? If you were going somewhere new and relatively unknown and had to take just the bare essentials to make a place feel like home rather than hostel, to make it feel like a place you could invite a friend or stranger rather than a place where you are the unfamiliar guest, what would you pack? Who would you take with you? Why?

The last couple of days have been truly wonderful. I got safely to my destination and was fed and watered and really, what sort of hostess but a fabulous one leaves a bar of FairTrade chocolate where I am sure to find it? (I've been saving it for the journey back to London.) The dogs are lovely in their enthusiastic doggy way, the cats are more circumspect but an absolute delight, and the humans here, the humans here are fantastic! I have been made to feel so very welcome and I am grateful to have been given this wonderful gift. The time away from London but still among friends, the mental and physical space to work with the companionship of knowing others are at work in the same house, has been a retreat of sorts, right when I needed it most.

I've not been online much, my computer doesn't want to play nice with the wireless here. That's just as well, really.

I've been thinking about sacrament and ritual and blessings and our human perceptions of same a fair bit, but the thoughts aren't really getting as far as words yet. I love that sometimes in said liturgy (and rather more often in sung worship), it feels to me as if something significant actually happens. I don't know whether that perception has any link at all to objective reality, but I know that looking for a church in Upper Suburbia, one of the things I will look for is whether that sense of awe is possible.

Sekr1t Pr0ject continues apace. I have a draft of something I can use, now, and so in some sense one of my goals for being here has been met. I'll do a different draft too, I think, and then let them sit a few days and see which one I like best before doing any serious editing. Many thanks to those of you who have helped with the project in one way or another--yes, you will get to see the results if you ask. And if you come across something that strikes you as perfect, don't hesitate to send it my way, as I am still open to ideas. Sorry if that's too cryptic for those of you not in on the sekr1t. It's a surprise, you see.

Housing continues to be source of mild stress, in that the letting agents are asking for documentation that I can't get to them when I'm not in London and didn't realise they needed before I left. But I still have hope that it will work out in the end.

The dogs took us for a long walk in the wood this afternoon (there were trees! and sticks! and other dogs! and grass! and dirt! and wind! and mud! and roots! and flowers! and butterflies! and birds! and sun! and shade!) and are now having some serious naps in various locations. I am starting to think the dogs have got the right idea... but I think I'll pick at a bit more work before I try to do too much else.