tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-261299622024-03-07T06:36:22.350+00:00SalvationsSongsI will sing my Jesus' story,
To Him all my heart belongs:
I will sing of thorns and glory,
I will sing Salvation's Songs.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.comBlogger654125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-12613958498284806572018-10-18T19:02:00.002+01:002018-10-18T19:17:56.930+01:00wild about...<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eleven years ago I went to the best gig I’ve ever seen. Harry Connick Jr at the Royal Albert Hall in London. Truth to tell, my expectations were fairly low. The CDs that Harry had out at that time were fairly middle of the road, and I remembered the sheer excitement of his first Albert Hall big band gigs in the early 90s with too much love to think that this poor latter day version of a once-great artist could come anywhere near that fire power.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How wrong I was. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He performed a lot of material from those CDs I didn’t much care for, but he taught me, and everyone else in the packed auditorium, one helluva lesson. CDs are for selling; ‘live’ gigs are for living. The music was re-arranged, re-imagined, re-invigorated and re-al. Full on, difficult, not for the pleasing but for the love of it jazz. Well I was pleased. I was in love.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhK8Oy555snVDfIbkgJCrpVNnKl36Jzl9iw_oQk4Ld7kOKLaKFLRv4FlOmSffpMZ59nMuK0X4kguULAuRlO4j_oWthmzn0wJ_rVImzovJ3BoWLZXOZkRRCQ-wS-dT8Hq58gho6Q/s1600/fullsizeoutput_21ed.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhK8Oy555snVDfIbkgJCrpVNnKl36Jzl9iw_oQk4Ld7kOKLaKFLRv4FlOmSffpMZ59nMuK0X4kguULAuRlO4j_oWthmzn0wJ_rVImzovJ3BoWLZXOZkRRCQ-wS-dT8Hq58gho6Q/s320/fullsizeoutput_21ed.jpeg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And - and this was cherry on the cake stuff - it was like jazz in the movies. Jazz in the movies is blue. The light, the set, the atmosphere. Harry’s staging that night was stunning. It was blue. And perfect. And when a soloist stood to soar, they were hit by a cartoon-perfect spotlight, that threw the rest of the stage into blackness and the soloist into diamond-bright glory. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since. It was intense. It was glorious. It was just the best.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, I came home dancing, and I put myself on a couple of email lists so that next time Harry came to town I’d be sure to get a good seat and re-live this amazing experience. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Week after week those email sites would send me news of other concerts that I had no intention of going anywhere near. As months passed into years, and still there was no sign of a return gig, there were times I thought of pressing unsubscribe. In what felt like increasingly vain hope, I resisted. Then, suddenly, last July, ten and a half years after that dim and distant memory of the best gig I ever went to, they turned up with the goods and my MacBook shouted at me. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Harry is coming back.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I booked my ticket and instantly started to worry. Because, you know, lightning never strikes in the same place twice, right? There was no way that this gig was going to be anywhere near as good as 2007, right? And all I had from that gig was my memory, and a sense of how superb it was… This time was going to be one long let-down.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirT-ZGGBT9qPJdPFRth4fLWTnYlCBUfXVUxwOyDgL48o70AZHzZ6KdElpPM6GmA5M__vDB22Dk5NeCCSenLtwYnhNDBcHnkr1hITeshTsSTR-sDOHVXPbyUrPo2hk7PFEMV-Ykwg/s1600/fullsizeoutput_21e8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirT-ZGGBT9qPJdPFRth4fLWTnYlCBUfXVUxwOyDgL48o70AZHzZ6KdElpPM6GmA5M__vDB22Dk5NeCCSenLtwYnhNDBcHnkr1hITeshTsSTR-sDOHVXPbyUrPo2hk7PFEMV-Ykwg/s200/fullsizeoutput_21e8.jpeg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I arrived early at the London Palladium. I admired the photos of Harry adorning the outside of the theatre, with him flashing his wedding ring very prominently. “His wife chose that picture,” said one sad middle-aged female fan to her equally disappointed middle-aged female friend. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Inside, the bars were doing brisk trade. There were a number of folk who looked like people I ought to be recognising. I made my way in. A good seat, near the front, with the risk of being a terrible seat if really tall person sat in front of me. No-one sat there for an age till just before show time, a family came and sat down - a blonde woman and what I presumed were her daughters. Perfect - I had a great view of the whole stage.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then we start. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7-0ZjvLKa5Vr0xr7Eb8rGnrFqoE6YB3hr7_A77iiKMB3jpVu7bdVECXHFoKPamIlBmOs-CRe4KFChSgoTEg-7fSpPVv2ErwxZjH0cRjLAQiulbCRng8uVinKRZpjGKK2YqltHw/s1600/fullsizeoutput_21e5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7-0ZjvLKa5Vr0xr7Eb8rGnrFqoE6YB3hr7_A77iiKMB3jpVu7bdVECXHFoKPamIlBmOs-CRe4KFChSgoTEg-7fSpPVv2ErwxZjH0cRjLAQiulbCRng8uVinKRZpjGKK2YqltHw/s200/fullsizeoutput_21e5.jpeg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s get the negatives out of the way first. The sound balance wasn’t ideal - it varied, and at times was very heavy on the rhythm, and so light on the (small) horn section that it felt more like a rock gig than a jazz gig. It varied through the evening; a friend of mine did find this a disappointment. I confess, I struggled less - because my attention was less on the band and much more on Harry, who looked and sounded great.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And that’s it for the negatives. Everything else was pure joy. I’m the same age as Harry (go on, I’ll admit to a couple more months) and I’d heard a couple of TV performances in the last year that had made me wonder if he was going to sustain a whole evening’s show.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What utter tosh. Harry Connick Jr was in stunning form. His voice has never been a thing of immaculate beauty, like that Canadian guy, but it is the grit and the character that makes it so terrific. His piano playing was relaxed and flowing, and a thing of power and imagination. His presentation was playful, having fun with a guy wearing an outrageous jacket, talking to folk who wandered out to the toilets or bar, interrupting himself frequently with asides and embracing the crowd in a way I just don’t recall from eleven years ago. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QKvUtZN3S7nCzOf2rbhHaP0uMes39_umAhD0LP-L7RzjrrPGlj2ipgM8R1GeuJoCwVPRRuE5UDeeUR4bGbVOknfkpAIAqWpdXy5vs0lEb3padJ2y7Su_98ayN9ElArJv87xzBQ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_21ec.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QKvUtZN3S7nCzOf2rbhHaP0uMes39_umAhD0LP-L7RzjrrPGlj2ipgM8R1GeuJoCwVPRRuE5UDeeUR4bGbVOknfkpAIAqWpdXy5vs0lEb3padJ2y7Su_98ayN9ElArJv87xzBQ/s200/fullsizeoutput_21ec.jpeg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There were times when he looked straight at me, and I was completely taken aback. He even winked, which was both disconcerting and sneakily wonderful. Then he introduced his wife Jill - the blonde woman in the seat in front of me… A relief, and a disappointment…Sitting where I was, I got to see how often he looked her way, and how much she enjoyed a show she must have seen many times. That was immensely touching. As was his interplay with his daughters, and their tourist tales of London. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Good to see guys in the band who’d been there with him back in 1991 (notably Lucien Barbarin), great to enjoy the variety of New Orleans stompers, When Harry Met Sally swingers, and some rather more funky stuff too. Plus - Harry sang Gospel. Not a thing I’d ever imagined happening. Jonathan duBose came on stage with his guitar, and we had a very powerful rendition of How Great Thou Art, plus a brief (but very </span></span>inspiring!) <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">sermon before a New Orleans funeral procession to When the Saints. And it didn’t stop there… we were treated to Harry’s trumpet playing, and to his tap dancing, along side pro Luke Hawkins. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6Wr0BE0j6Dp4WZf2pJZSBqBTiIvADSs-vriBfipW_BgJoW6eDiWmsepZ7GvKUd1Hp5IrHKFwFABwIovZ8R_yHvItmpyCf5EYsfqJCZURWFThCYz3J3UUvY2h4Etmk4OjPlSpbQ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_21e7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6Wr0BE0j6Dp4WZf2pJZSBqBTiIvADSs-vriBfipW_BgJoW6eDiWmsepZ7GvKUd1Hp5IrHKFwFABwIovZ8R_yHvItmpyCf5EYsfqJCZURWFThCYz3J3UUvY2h4Etmk4OjPlSpbQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_21e7.jpeg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How did it compare with 2007? Ah, I think that was a very special evening. I think the band back then perhaps was better (a little bigger too - which made a difference on some of the charts). I think the surprise factor played into it too. But…</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There can’t be many performers who will do two and a quarter hours of a show without any intervals. No wonder the crowd bayed for more, and received encore after encore. And as Harry gets older, I honestly think he gets better. His voice, his musicianship, his showmanship, he looks great, and with such high expectations and such a long wait - </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He did not disappoint. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Come back soon. Please. With a full big band. Or just you & a piano. But come back soon. </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></span></div>
</div>
Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-81674250060157373392018-08-10T15:05:00.001+01:002018-08-10T15:05:20.710+01:00the duck and the gopherLast Sunday, as I was leading one of our morning services, I was suddenly reminded of a dream I had years ago.<br />
<br />
During the service I had preached on Ephesians 4, and had spoken of the calling we all have as Christians, and the way all of us should live a life worthy of that amazing calling to love God and love people. We may have different parts to play within the Church as we help build each other up and bless the whole body, but we are all called. And sometimes, it feels like others have more calling. Feelings can mislead.<br />
<br />
Though they can point to deeper truths too.<br />
<br />
And as the service went on, suddenly I opened my hands in invitation, and they were taken by a memory...<br />
<br />
It goes back to before I was ordained. The dream I was reminded of, I mean. In it, I was by a river, at the foot of a wooded cliff. There was a sort of ledge to sit on, and a bit of an overhang, enough room for a group of people to gather. As I sat there on a sunny afternoon, I saw to one side a small furry animal.<br />
<br />
A gopher.<br />
<br />
Not a creature one usually sees in England. But I knew instantly what it was. And it was a brave little thing, coming right up to me. So I reached out, and touched it - and as we touched, it began to sing.<br />
<br />
I promise, I was more surprised than you.<br />
<br />
It's song was tentative, deep, intensely musical and more instrumental than vocal. Plangent. Sad.<br />
<br />
Then I looked to the other side of me and saw a dark coloured bird, with a flash of colour on its wing and on its beak. A rather elegant duck.<br />
<br />
A duck.<br />
<br />
And it too approached me, so I reached out my other hand and stroked its feathers - at which point, it joined in the gopher's song. Not with a quacking or a bird sound of any kind, but with a counterpoint melody to the gopher, high and gentle, rising and falling, yet somehow rising ever higher.<br />
<br />
I retracted my hands, stunned by the music. It stopped. Both creatures stayed where they were and looked at me. Rather accusingly, I felt. I laughed, feeling embarrassed, and reached out again -<br />
<br />
The music grew, and grew, and enveloped everything. I had never heard this music before to my knowledge but it was <i>beautiful</i>. Melodies entwined with each other, harmonies grew, the sound was everywhere, I saw people all around and wanted to draw them in, but somehow I knew all that I had to do was keep contact with the duck and the gopher. I wasn't making this music, it was nothing to do with me, I had only the smallest part - I was simply a contact point. Yet the contact was vital. I was the least important. I was essential.<br />
<br />
The thing is, about two weeks after that dream, I bought a CD in Woolworths (remember Woolworths?) a disc with Shostakovich's 10th Symphony on it. And as a filler, a Ballet Suite. Like everyone, Woolworth's licensed decent recordings and sold them on their own label.<br />
<br />
The first movement of Ballet Suite no.4 (no, there's really no reason why you'd know this music) stopped me in my tracks. It was the song of the duck and the gopher from my dream. Here's that recording I bought back in the early 1990s:<br />
<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/H0JeXGPNbeE?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
And last Sunday, as I led our morning service, suddenly I felt the memory of a surprisingly elegant bird at one hand, and a small furry creature at the other, and the sound of a song I've not thought of in far too long filled my mind, and again it was glorious.<br />
<br />
God makes the music; all we have to do is a tiny thing so that everyone hears it.<br />
Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-26650047348107008202018-05-29T23:30:00.003+01:002018-05-29T23:30:40.068+01:00how to curry favour...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTncGAs09DE74upAgFUCMdK9wBrp78sqAGdIhPhWn4u68QqaECr9oLsqXSuckLs2uWwkyCJDj9E81R3LraxjBwj8K6uUW2q1NDv10frb1x05G7J6j1ZXNHVEWoBGViZAdboM9Iw/s1600/Michael+Curry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1010" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTncGAs09DE74upAgFUCMdK9wBrp78sqAGdIhPhWn4u68QqaECr9oLsqXSuckLs2uWwkyCJDj9E81R3LraxjBwj8K6uUW2q1NDv10frb1x05G7J6j1ZXNHVEWoBGViZAdboM9Iw/s320/Michael+Curry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The world has been entranced by Presiding Bishop Michael Curry's address at the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. His words on the power of love have had enormous impact.<br />
<br />
However, there has been a mystery about how the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church was chosen to deliver this address -<br />
<br />
Until now.<br />
<br />
A recording has emerged of Harry & Meghan's wedding preparations with the Archbishop in Lambeth Palace. The following is a partial transcript of that recording.<br />
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The scene is a drawing room in Lambeth Palace. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Prince Harry & Meghan Markle sit wth the Archbishop of Canterbury, sipping tea & discussing plans for their upcoming ceremony.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>Prince Harry:</b> We’d like some advice about the wedding, archbishop.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>Archbishop of Canterbury:</b> Yes, of course.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> Obviously, it would be good to have a mix of things.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> Obviously.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>Meghan Markle:</b> Being, you know - </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC: </b>Mixed race.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH: </b>A royal wedding.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> Well, precisely.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> Papa has given us some classical type tunes and things, and they seem OK...</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM: </b>We’ve never heard of them</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> <i>(pause as he looks down list)</i> Nor has anyone else. Good Lord.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM:</b> Yeah, right, so we thought something a bit more popular would be good.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC: </b>Something that <i>Suits</i> you - as it were! <i>(AoC laughs at his own joke)</i></span></div>
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><br /></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM:</b> Sorry?</span><br />
<b style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></b>
<b style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">AoC:</b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Apologies.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(sounding embarrassed)</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Now actually, I ‘m very good at this popular music thing.</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> Really?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> Yes - there’s that young black person who’s in the album charts at the moment…</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> Er… That doesn’t really narrow it down.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> Plays the cello.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM:</b> That narrows it down. Maybe not quite what we were thinking.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC: </b>Oh, Ok. Well we can always put him in the signing of the register then.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> And what will we do while that happens. ?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> <i>(audibly surprised at the question)</i> Stand by me, of course.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM:</b> You know, I really don’t think we should perform; couldn’t we get a choir to do that?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC: </b>No no no no no - I mean you’ll stand by me to sign the register. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> Though now you mention it…<i>that's</i> not the worst idea.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> And then we need to think of someone to give the address.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC: </b><i>(A smile creeping into his voice) </i>Well, thank you, I rather thought - </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM:</b> <i>(interrupting)</i> Apparently there’ll be two billion people watching.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b><i> (instantly businesslike)</i> - it shouldn’t be me. No. Definitely not. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> And Grandmother said not anyone from Alpha or the Archbishop of York.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> Ah. I see. Anyone you’d like?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH: </b>Don’t really know many preachers. Better on rugby players. Army types.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM: </b>Actors. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> The Beckhams.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH & MM:</b> Elton John. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC: </b>Well, who would your Grandmother like?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>PH:</b> Oh, God knows. Don’t try to curry favour - just give her something Anglican, something that makes her laugh, or a horse.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>MM: </b>But not the Archbishop of York.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><b>AoC:</b> <i>(As if a light has just gone on) </i>Well… “<i>curry favour</i>”… I think I may have just the right person for you…</span></div>
Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-71705188842905054532018-02-01T14:12:00.000+00:002018-02-01T14:12:48.691+00:00all good things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVimTCPStiGAPDoYKGi3n7xYcn83_GJHRvDVPPjb-tW9nFZsKbHC3ZlewCDHiNFcfEdrz8Q6MrPBLwRuv56mlXdF-HUp1nJMUhbVSqwS9l8MJZdIbakJLtCVhWipBe-8f1M5buA/s1600/Marcus+Green+for+ICS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1575" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVimTCPStiGAPDoYKGi3n7xYcn83_GJHRvDVPPjb-tW9nFZsKbHC3ZlewCDHiNFcfEdrz8Q6MrPBLwRuv56mlXdF-HUp1nJMUhbVSqwS9l8MJZdIbakJLtCVhWipBe-8f1M5buA/s200/Marcus+Green+for+ICS.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m in Wengen, Switzerland, taking a couple of weeks as ICS chaplain. I’ve been doing these little stints at St Bernard’s Church for 21 years. You never know what lies ahead when you arrive - who you will meet, what you will see, what opportunities you will have to share faith and help folk along the way. It’s a wonderful thing - but for all sorts of reasons, I’ve decided this is my last such trip.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s the practical: ICS provide accommodation & a travel grant, but Switzerland has gotten expensive! The pound went a lot further 21 years ago… And there’s the emotional. Last year, at my 50th party, it struck me that I really needed to do new things or I’d be doing the same-old same-old for the rest of my life. Sometimes you have to let go of the past in order to discover the future.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On Sunday night I was at Merton, talking of the past, for a Candlemas Communion. There was an excellent sermon, and the choir were on superb form. One of the things they sang was a piece by Byrd:</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Senex puerum portabat; puer autem senem regebat. Alleluia.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The old man was carrying the boy; the boy however was ruling the old man. Alleluia.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In context of a Candlemas service, it’s a reference to Simeon holding the infant Jesus. But the infant Jesus is Simeon’s Lord and Saviour, and the hope of seeing this child has ruled the old man’s life. Now the hope is fulfilled; he can die in peace. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However…</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I sat there, having heard an excellent sermon on suffering and life and the presence of God through the dark times, it struck me that there was another layer to this. So let me re-translate:</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we grow older, we carry the memories of our younger days with us. What we don’t always realise is the power those memories, those experiences, those past times have over us. Alleluia.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And the problem is, that’s not always a good thing. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A look of disappointment. A word that cut us down. A failure. A shame. We carry them with us from youth to age. And these follies of youth can maintain a power over us even when we are so old we have forgotten them.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why are some adults frightened of dogs? Because a puppy jumped up at their pushchair. I remember at five years old scoring a goal in the playground, and a lad - who went on to become a leading light in the local football club - punched me. I’m not sure I scored too many goals after that!</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Salvation, it seems to me, is sometimes letting our old man get to know our child a bit better so that the past loses some of its mysterious power. You shall know the truth, says Jesus, and the truth shall set you free. We’ll reveal what has been hidden; we’ll face up to what we’ve avoided. Because the child within us is an important part of the old man, and shouldn’t be ignored or wiped away or forgotten - but one certainly shouldn’t rule the other. A little harmony goes a long way.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And sometimes Salvation is about recognising the time to put away childish things. Not especially because they’re childish, but because if we don’t, we’ll never discover life has even more to offer.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My tastebuds may always like Ribena. But there’s a time to appreciate coffee, and I’m missing out if I don’t try it…</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Through the last twenty-one years I’ve certainly had some times when I have had to see the truth a bit more clearly, and in the process the mystery of the past has lost a little of its grip, and the present has become a better, healthier place to live. A little Salvation has happened. And times in Wengen have played their part in that for me. And yet I know that letting go is growing up. The friends I have made here will always shape me; and I will always come back to them. But the chaplaincy that first brought me here is coming to its end for me. Or I won’t find out what else lies out there… And that’s a taste of Salvation too. A taste of the ‘even more’ that all life, and especially life with God, is supposed to bring.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I tell you, I am seeing every single person who ever meant anything to me in this place this week. And every time I do, I am filled with gratitude. It is quite a thing.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All good things… </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-7360341311755093162018-01-20T21:05:00.000+00:002018-01-20T21:05:53.739+00:00unoriginal instruments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPWvXa0Z-I9b0xBXkAz1fHu1Ovs5xQ6uNDUUr6KmGOw9_b2xeq2UMcZxxLdaLMNGeBxGfzu02iKOAlbc3W-D9sD6o9Xhyhuh2YUghzzuIXmTNG0gAu_s5rVj3C6_5ppKyS-4Q_Q/s1600/IMG_E3233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1600" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPWvXa0Z-I9b0xBXkAz1fHu1Ovs5xQ6uNDUUr6KmGOw9_b2xeq2UMcZxxLdaLMNGeBxGfzu02iKOAlbc3W-D9sD6o9Xhyhuh2YUghzzuIXmTNG0gAu_s5rVj3C6_5ppKyS-4Q_Q/s320/IMG_E3233.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I was listening to the radio today and a heretical thought crossed my mind:<br />
<br />
Hasn't the period instrument stuff gotten boring?<br />
<br />
I mean - back in the olden days, say, like the 1970s, when there were folk who clearly had a direct line back to stuff like Mozart, it was a fascinating thing. Musicians, fed up with being able to play familiar scores, started to play them faster just to see if it was possible. Often it wasn't, but we loved it anyway. We were told it was old, but it was <i>new</i>.<br />
<br />
And then came the influx of "original instruments" - like real instruments, but impossible to play. So we had stunningly well recorded versions of Bach and, well, more Bach, played sometimes really <i>nearly</i> in tune.<br />
<br />
Just like Bach would have heard it himself.<br />
<br />
It was a crazy time - people thought of all sorts of things, like using really bad pianos to record Mozart concertos, and then changing 'pitch' - reading the same music but playing a semi-tone lower than you were reading. Really technical stuff. And given that, that most of the notes still came out in the right place and in the right order was awesome. No wonder we gave those guys awards by the bucketful.<br />
<br />
But now...<br />
<br />
Original instruments sound so...unoriginal.<br />
<br />
They're so in tune. So accurate. So together. So like <i>real</i> music. I mean, that's it really. When you go to a concert, you can see some of the flutes are wooden, and some of the string instruments are a funny shape, and some of the trumpets are side-ways on, but when you just listen - it's like listening to proper people playing proper grown-up instruments. It's all so professional.<br />
<br />
It's like Simon Cowell has applied autotune to everything.<br />
<br />
It is sort of pretty; but it's not so much fun. Somewhere along the way the early music brigade has exchanged its personality for a glossy coat. <br />
<br />
<br />Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-33214189685377930042018-01-08T17:13:00.001+00:002018-01-08T17:13:23.540+00:00New Year, New BlogI have a new blog. This one will keep running with the usual mix of - well, whatever it is I put on here...<br />
<br />
But now there's also <a href="https://possibilityofdifference.blogspot.co.uk/">The Possibility of Difference</a> . This one is where I'll put thoughts & theologies & stories to do with issues of sexuality in the Bible & the church today. By all means wander over & take a look!Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-81078478257092651302018-01-04T17:42:00.001+00:002018-01-04T18:01:17.802+00:00New Year, New Toast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx96gcklh-tmgAM3cvD58bVk1HYqg1B4RTETJMpkbMaAYS3xkUKGyPIa6r9d3BUOtKvl7T79REhHdkEyGbP-XTUV6Z9hyphenhyphenmxL1Qdg04G-py5q_-HBdG4TkospxJUDems7aY4OoHXg/s1600/Radio+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="336" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx96gcklh-tmgAM3cvD58bVk1HYqg1B4RTETJMpkbMaAYS3xkUKGyPIa6r9d3BUOtKvl7T79REhHdkEyGbP-XTUV6Z9hyphenhyphenmxL1Qdg04G-py5q_-HBdG4TkospxJUDems7aY4OoHXg/s320/Radio+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
As a regular listener to Radio 3's Breakfast programme, it is with some resignation that I hear of the excitement in the various announcers' voices as they talk of the "New Year, New Music" promotion that is being offered to us in January.<br />
<br />
It's like a musical Dry January. Having had a feast of lovely music in the run-up to Christmas, we pay for it by having to listen to all sorts of gargling sounds in the first days of 2018.<br />
<br />
"...And this is a wonderful combination of the bells of Winchester cathedral, the human voice and a vacuum cleaner, all mixed in together..."<br />
<br />
Still, at least there are three things to give thanks for as we endure New Year, New Music.<br />
1. February will soon be here.<br />
2. The dog is occasionally entranced by the bizarre noises emanating from the radio as we wake up, and sits staring at the speaker till it all gets too much. Then he barks. And then I get up.<br />
3. And - thank God - they have learned from a former experience, and at least we don't have the New Composer in residence that we had a couple of years ago.<br />
<br />
This last thing was a terrific experiment that came straight from a Radio 3 version of W1A. Having listened through the whole darned thing, I imagine it went like this...<br />
<br />
The Director of New at Radio 3 had an idea. Or, one of his team did, which (essentially) is exactly the same thing. So he sent an email to the Editor of Breakfast, and they met for coffee in Debussy, the Radio 3 canteen.<br />
<br />
"Thanks for making time," said New.<br />
"Always a pleasure," said Breakfast.<br />
The Editor of Breakfast had been rather stunned to receive the email. The Director of New was well-known for arriving in the office at 11.30 every morning, and it was generally presumed he had no idea that Radio 3 offered a breakfast programme to the nation.<br />
<br />
"I've had an idea," said New.<br />
"Splendid."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Yes, great."<br />
"Isn't it?"<br />
<br />
They drank their coffee.<br />
<br />
"Well, what is it?" asked Breakfast, nervously.<br />
"Oh, of course," smiled New, "how silly."<br />
"Not at all."<br />
"Indeed."<br />
"You were saying?"<br />
<br />
"We at New are always looking for ways to further the embrace of New throughout the purview of the great Network that is Three..."<br />
"Quite right."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Perfect."<br />
"And?"<br />
"Yes, well, we realised that amongst all that whatever it is you do at whenever it is you do it on Breakfast - wonderful title, by the way, so - descriptive - "<br />
"Thank you."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Perfect."<br />
"And?"<br />
"Well, there's not much New is there?"<br />
<br />
The Editor of Breakfast sat, silent. Then:<br />
"Not much <i>New</i>?"<br />
"I mean, I listened today - well, obviously, I didn't, but I read the playlist, which is pretty much the same thing - "<br />
"Pretty much."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"And there was plenty there that was new to me. I didn't even know the Apprentice was a ballet."<br />
"It's not."<br />
"It is - it said so on the play list."<br />
"The music is from a ballet."<br />
"Same thing."<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
"As I said, new to me. But not - New. So we thought -"<br />
"I'm a bit nervous."<br />
"Don't be. We thought - Jacinta has a cousin who knows this chap who won a prize at, well, who cares, but the thing is, he's an actual composer. Like Alan Sugar."<br />
"Prokofiev."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
"Perfect."<br />
"And?"<br />
"And we've hired him."<br />
<br />
Stunned silence.<br />
<br />
The Editor of Breakfast tapped his cup, nervously, wondering if it would make much difference at this point if he smashed it over the Director of New's head.<br />
<br />
"You've hired him? Why?"<br />
"Because - and you'll love this - for six weeks he's going to write a piece of music a week for Breakfast. Something New. New, do you get? We'll be working together!"<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"And am I allowed to know his name?"<br />
"Oh yes, he definitely has one."<br />
"Perfect."<br />
<br />
And that was that.<br />
<br />
Geraint Brynmor-Hughes was delighted to be commissioned by the nation's most prestigious serious music network to produce six short works for broadcast. It was - by far - his most significant opportunity to date. When the Director of New had first approached him, he had needed no persuading. When he had been offered actual money for the six pieces he had wept openly.<br />
<br />
So Geraint Brynmor-Hughes put enormous thought and effort into his first work. It was important that the listeners to the nation's most prestigious serious music network understood his thought processes and the way he approached the task of composition. It mattered that they entered into the journey of self-understanding and communal-expression which embraced the every day and then transcended the ordinary.<br />
<br />
<b>Week One</b><br />
"September Morning" was broadcast at the end of August.<br />
<br />
The Breakfast team were slightly tense as they awaited the delivery of the recording. It was felt that they too should hear it for the first time with the nation.<br />
"Builds the suspense."<br />
"Makes everyone everyone."<br />
"And, to be fair, this way it really is New."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
<br />
At 7.43 Petroc announced - "We're delighted that today begins our new series of Composer in Residence pieces with six new compositions by prize-winning young composer, Geraint Brynmor-Hughes. This is 'September Morning'.<br />
<br />
A low growling noise spluttered from an unsuspecting nation's radios. It was followed by a high-pitched squeal, that ululated, paused, stuttered, repeated, and was then joined by the percussive rhythm of a pneumatic drill with added Chinese gong.<br />
<br />
The whole thing lasted one minute and twenty four seconds.<br />
<br />
In the Breakfast studio, there was sheer terror. Followed by Petroc announcing:<br />
"'September Morning' by Geraint Brynmor-Hughes, the first of six new compositions especially for Radio Three Breakfast in an exciting new series. Next, Chopin."<br />
<br />
As the Chopin began, so did the recriminations.<br />
"What the **** was that?"<br />
"New."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"No it bloody well wasn't."<br />
"It's on the list again for 8.39"<br />
"Well take it off."<br />
"But the list..."<br />
"It's a minute and twenty seconds - Petroc can talk to the newsreader for all I care. That's New!"<br />
"He does that most days."<br />
"He's definitely doing it today."<br />
"****"<br />
"Who on earth is Geraint Brynmor-Hughes anyway?"<br />
"Someone someone in New knows. Won a competition."<br />
"For what?"<br />
"Composition"<br />
"Bloody well fooled me."<br />
"Oh God."<br />
"What?"<br />
"Look at the Twitter feed..."<br />
<br />
Twitter was not the natural environment of the nation's most prestigious serious music network's Breakfast listener - so when #Radio3GBH was trending by 7.55, it was either a very bad or a very good thing. Depending.<br />
<br />
Either way, Geraint's second composition came a week later.<br />
<br />
<b>Week Two</b><br />
The Editor of Breakfast waited at the door of Broadcasting House for the Director of New to arrive.<br />
"Did you hear it?"<br />
"Fantastic!"<br />
"You didn't."<br />
"Of course I did. Marvellous."<br />
"In what world is ninety seconds of Saami folk song mixed with computer game noises and 'The Price is Right' theme bloody marvellous?"<br />
"Look, you just have to understand 'New'."<br />
"Or music. They seem to be alternatives."<br />
"It's water cooler stuff though isn't it? I mean, here we are!"<br />
They walked past the water cooler in the entrance foyer.<br />
"I'm really sorry," said Breakfast, "but we're pulling the plug."<br />
"Why?" asked New. "Too many listeners? Too many people talking about your show? Too much exposure for Petroc? Afraid he'll leave? I have had lots of enquiries... All that social media stuff must be very - what's the word - New."<br />
<br />
The Editor of Breakfast fumed.<br />
"It's just not right for us!"<br />
"Then have Geraint on the programme," smiled New. "He's a lovely chap."<br />
"Know him well, do you?" hissed Breakfast.<br />
<br />
<b>Week three</b><br />
"And this morning," melifluated Petroc, "we're delighted to welcome our Composer in Residence, Geraint Brynmor-Hughes to the studio, to tell us all about his latest composition for us. Geraint, welcome."<br />
"Hi."<br />
"Is that a Welsh accent I can hear there?"<br />
"No, I'm from Brighton."<br />
"Ah - forgive me..."<br />
"It's OK, I get it a lot. The name."<br />
"And your latest piece, I must say - they've been causing everyone to talk - what is this one called?"<br />
"Thoughtfulness."<br />
"Can you tell us something of the way you approach writing new music?"<br />
"Well, this one is a classical Badinerie in form, but with hip-hop rhythms using household electrical items, and a bagpipe."<br />
"Can't wait. Here's 'Thoughtfulness' by our Composer in Residence, Geraint Brynmor-Hughes."<br />
<br />
Later, at the door to Broadcasting House, the Editor of Breakfast, accompanied by several members of his team, stood waiting at 11.29 for the arrival of the Director of New at Radio Three.<br />
"Ah - Good morning!"<br />
"Yes, well -"<br />
"I see Twitter is agog with GBH!"<br />
"Which is something -"<br />
"It is indeed. Who'd have thought it?"<br />
"Who indeed?"<br />
"Hashtag Radio3GBH? Trending!"<br />
"GBH is about right."<br />
"Do I hear dissent in the camp?"<br />
"What you hear is bloody full-grown revolt."<br />
<br />
The Director of New paused.<br />
<br />
"Full-grown revolt?"<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Perfect."<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
"And we're not going to play any more vacuum cleaners, pneumatic drills, computer game noises or hip hop on Breakfast."<br />
"But you'll keep the Saami, the Chinese gongs and the bagpipe?"<br />
"So you have been listening?"<br />
"BBCiPlayer. Wonderful thing."<br />
<br />
The Breakfast team stared at the Director of New as they all emerged from the lift onto the Third floor and seemed to be heading for a showdown in Copeland.<br />
<br />
"It's not just that Brynmor-Hughes has no idea about, I don't know, basic Harmony -"<br />
"No."<br />
"Or melody."<br />
"Yes, I see what you mean."<br />
"Or, well, notes as such."<br />
"You mean music per se?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"It's not just all that."<br />
"Though he did win a prize."<br />
"So did Petroc's cousin's bull at the Great Western Show."<br />
"For composition?"<br />
"More likely than Brynmor-Hughes."<br />
"Right."<br />
"It's just not very - <i>Breakfast</i>."<br />
<br />
"But - " said New -<br />
"Yes?"<br />
"Well, just a thought, really -"<br />
"I'm listening."<br />
"No, I realise the revolt is too far gone for this."<br />
"What were you going to say?"<br />
"Well, it's just that I've sort of paid him upfront."<br />
"Upfront?"<br />
"And it is the Great British Public's money, you know."<br />
"Ah."<br />
"Indeed."<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
"So would it help if - and I'm just spitballing here - we asked him to try using, well -"<br />
"Music?"<br />
"Yes, I suppose. I was going to say -"<br />
"A tune?"<br />
"That's probably a bit hopeful. How about a violin?"<br />
"A violin?"<br />
"Or a recorder."<br />
"A recorder?"<br />
"Something you'd find in an orchestra."<br />
"A recorder. Something you'd find in an orchestra. Right."<br />
"Anything. A more traditional approach."<br />
"Brilliant."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Everyone on board?"<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
<br />
<b>Week four</b><br />
The response to Geraint Brynmor-Hughes' First String Quartet, broadcast 'live' on BBC Radio 3's Breakfast programme, was overwhelming.<br />
<br />
It had recognisable instruments. It had four movements (Allegro - Preparation; Scherzo - Oven Timer; Adagio - Reading the Newspaper; Vivace - Dinner). It had no melodies, which might have been a slight negative, but much more importantly - it lasted (in total, all four movements all together) thirty seven seconds.<br />
<br />
It was an unmitigated success.<br />
"Well," exclaimed Petroc after it finished at just after 7.51, "I think we'll be hearing that again later!"<br />
<br />
It was played seventeen times on Breakfast during the week.<br />
The Director of New sent the Editor of Breakfast an email:<br />
<br />
<i>17! Thank you!</i><br />
He received a reply:<br />
<i>37" Thank <u>you</u>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>Week five</b><br />
"Geraint, sweetie, we're thinking of following up the String Quartet with another absolute classic."<br />
"I've got something in mind too."<br />
"Really, what?"<br />
"It combines banjo playing and cement mixers on the A1-M."<br />
"We're thinking more - choral. Have you ever worked with the BBC Singers?"<br />
"The BBC what?"<br />
"Singers. Wonderful. They sing."<br />
"I guessed."<br />
"First rate, I'm told. Songs, and, you know, other things. Well, they can't wait. The String Quartet has everyone wanting to perform your music."<br />
"It does?"<br />
"Everyone."<br />
"So what do you want me to write?"<br />
"I wouldn't presume."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Perfect."<br />
"Just keep your usual touchstone of the real world."<br />
"For the BBC Singers."<br />
"I knew you'd see it."<br />
<br />
Petroc welcomed Geraint back into the Breakfast studio.<br />
"And we're delighted to welcome back Geraint Brynmor-Hughes, our Welsh Composer in Residence."<br />
"From Brighton."<br />
"Tell us Geraint, have you been surprised by the response to last week's String Quartet?"<br />
"It's not something I'm used to."<br />
"I wouldn't have thought so."<br />
"I mean, writing for a string quartet."<br />
"So what made you branch out?"<br />
"Er - well, it's been brilliant having the opportunity to write for Breakfast, really."<br />
"And we have certainly experienced it with you. Now this week the studio is crammed because again we have a 'live' performance - another first performance - this time a choral work. Is choral writing something you enjoy?"<br />
"I'll let you know."<br />
"Tell us about this work, sung for us this morning by the BBC Singers under the direction of chief conductor David Hill."<br />
"Well, I was at the Heston Services and I read the menu, and it came to me that this might be the perfect subject for a choral work."<br />
"Really?"<br />
"So though it's a 'live' performance, there's also some feedback, a bit of looping and a repeat."<br />
"Just like being at the service station. Can't wait. Here's 'Menu' by Geraint Brynmor-Hughes."<br />
<br />
<b>Week six</b><br />
Well, thought the Editor of Breakfast as he strolled towards work, this is finally it. One more day and it's all over. Everyone will be happy. The Director of New will be old news. Life will return to normal.<br />
<br />
So he was somewhat surprised to arrive at Broadcasting House before the sun had even thought of getting up to find the Director of New waiting for him at the door.<br />
"Hello!"<br />
"Good Lord."<br />
"Isn't it?"<br />
"I didn't know you did this time of day."<br />
"I don't usually."<br />
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"<br />
"Pleasure is the word. You may thank me now."<br />
Breakfast felt queasy.<br />
"Thank you?"<br />
"Not at all."<br />
"No - thank you for what?"<br />
"Oh I see."<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Well."<br />
"Really - for what."<br />
"Aha! Come and see!"<br />
<br />
Inside Broadcasting House, New led Breakfast to studio seven, which had been laid out to broadcast or record a whole symphony orchestra.<br />
"What's this for?" asked Breakfast.<br />
New smiled: "You asked for something more <i>Breakfast</i>."<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"A piano would've done."<br />
"Well I give you the BBC Symphony Orchestra."<br />
<br />
The editor of Breakfast was shell-shocked.<br />
"Seriously?"<br />
"We are the nation's most prestigious serious music network."<br />
"But - that's our annual budget sitting there."<br />
"And about ten minutes of mine."<br />
"At this time in the morning?"<br />
"Well, not at this time - but by the time you're on air, yes."<br />
"When have they rehearsed?"<br />
"Rehearsed? It's Geraint bloody Brynmor-Hughes we're talking about, it's not like they're backing Shirley Bassey."<br />
"No, well."<br />
"Yes."<br />
"I suppose these are professionals."<br />
"And musicians."<br />
"Some of them both at the same time."<br />
"That's the spirit."<br />
"So what has he written for them?"<br />
"No idea. It's a tribute to <i>Breakfast</i>."<br />
"What's it called?"<br />
New looked at his iPhone.<br />
"<i>Breakfast</i>."<br />
"Right."<br />
"Marvellous."<br />
"Absolutely."<br />
"Bloody hell."<br />
<br />
Petroc had a monitor showing him studio seven. He could see the BBC Symphony Orchestra ready to play <i>Breakfast</i> by Geraint Brynmor-Hughes. He, and the rest of the team in the Breakfast studio, were alone in the world in being slightly prepared for what was about to happen.<br />
<br />
The string players had been given plates, knives and forks. Woodwind had boxes of cereal (sealed). The brass players had been given bowls of different sizes filled with differing quantities of milk, and were standing by with their mouthpieces, ready to blow. Everyone else had either bread or some form of electrical device (ranging from coffee maker to food mixer).<br />
<br />
Not a single 'orchestral' instrument was in evidence.<br />
The composer sat nervously at the side of the seventy musicians.<br />
Sakari Oramo stood at the podium, ready to conduct.<br />
<br />
A Rossini overture finished and Petroc announced that it was time for the final of the six specially-composed pieces by Composer in Residence, Geraint Brynmor-Hughes, who was "sitting ready with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, for a magnificent world-premier performance of a stunning new work - <i>Breakfast</i>!" <br />
<br />
The scraping of cutlery across plates moved from first violins to seconds to violas to cellos and double basses; soon all of the string players were attacking their plates. Woodwind began (slowly at first) to shake cereal boxes, with an increasing rhythm that grew in intensity and menace. The brass took turns to blow into their bowls - till suddenly in a crescendo all of them were blowing at once, and the electrical devices switched on together. This cacophony lasted a full ten seconds till those with bread threw it in the air and as Sakari Oramo brought his beat down for the final time, the whole orchestra intoned -<br />
"Toast!"<br />
"And it's nearly eight O' clock," continued Petroc, without missing a beat, "but there's just time to say that in St Mary's Church in Whitley St Drayton, there's a performance by the Whitley St Drayton Singers of English Choral Classics this evening at 7.30pm. Do look that one out if you are nearby. Time for the news now, read for us today by..."<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * * * *</div>
<br />
Oh yes. It was quite a thing.<br />
And now we are being made to endure New Year, New Music. Payment for too many nice things over Christmas. There's probably a new Director of New trying to improve us all again. Someone who doesn't realise what we need when those of us who wake up to Breakfast wake up.<br />
<br />
At least the powers that be at the nation's most prestigious serious music network are not repeating the Radio Three Breakfast Composer in Residence debacle.<br />
<br />
Though, as I scan the Radio Times, I see that this week's Composer of the Week is...<br />
<br />
Geraint Brynmor-Hughes.<br />
New Year, New Toast then.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-59939846282237723142017-12-29T11:39:00.001+00:002017-12-29T11:42:13.531+00:00three musicalsI've seen all sorts of shows, plays, operas and concerts this year. I've been very lucky. Musically, the highlight was undoubtedly Igor Levit playing the Shostakovich 24 Preludes and Fugues. It was two and a half hours of magic: that I was on the front row, inches away from the Steinway was a glorious addition to a perfect evening. One I will not forget.<br />
<br />
I also loved the two-parter Harry Potter play, and Amadeus at the National at the beginning of the year set a really high bar as to my theatrical expectations.<br />
<br />
But there were three musicals that stood out for me in 2017, three shows that will stay with me for all sorts of reasons.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitlzzrxPEjrJqNFBTEvoai-uFvrGpRxeK_pF477XGUVHEHMu6KdkQAJ4H06GuM9oH9Wd7BinNyDDtY-l60hcJOwnzYp-joy9eYFnDHQFSLa6ZqG0H3fznPCYBLafeMfca3B0g6Jg/s1600/AiP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="1182" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitlzzrxPEjrJqNFBTEvoai-uFvrGpRxeK_pF477XGUVHEHMu6KdkQAJ4H06GuM9oH9Wd7BinNyDDtY-l60hcJOwnzYp-joy9eYFnDHQFSLa6ZqG0H3fznPCYBLafeMfca3B0g6Jg/s320/AiP.jpg" width="320" /></a>An American in Paris came to London as a transfer from Broadway, with the leads reprising their roles. That it was at the Dominion almost made me not book - I really dislike that barn of a theatre - and the pre-show chatter seemed non-existent, making me wonder if I'd done the right thing...<br />
<br />
I had.<br />
<br />
From the moment it began, I was in love with it. Yes, it's a song-and-dance karaoke musical, a string of Gershwin hits cobbled together loosely after the Gene Kelly movie. But what songs. And what dancing...<br />
<br />
No musical hoofing here, this is a show where the dance is ballet. The leads (Robbie Fairchild, Leanne Cope, phenomenal) are ballet dancers who are doing their first show. It shows - not in their acting or singing, which is as good as any anywhere, but in their dancing which is stunning.<br />
<br />
I heard people disappointed in the interval. DISAPPOINTED!!! What did they want, blood? No - they wanted 42nd Street. It's not that. It's sublime. The interplay of the three male leads, the central love story, and the final ballet sequence made me want to stand a cheer and cheer and cheer. This is what you pay to see a show for.<br />
<br />
I went again. And second time I was on the front row. From the circle I saw the shape of the choreography; from the front row I saw them dance with their faces. Beautiful. Beautiful.<br />
<br />
In 1988 I dragged two friends to see Follies in the West End. Julia MacKenzie, Diana Rigg et al. A star-studded cast, and my first full-blown Sondheim. I loved it. They kind of enjoyed it.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnRRRqI06qX3fqrCUkOEfA1aaYDP-LRivqU38G2uX9SKVSb0rFeK4nluxz8FOjGkd16r7eGiJzhTVX4nR-iMAGkfaPgm3ROB8uIDuwFCNuACeup0M-mWLFkBoxYztliDHfDL97Q/s1600/Follies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1048" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnRRRqI06qX3fqrCUkOEfA1aaYDP-LRivqU38G2uX9SKVSb0rFeK4nluxz8FOjGkd16r7eGiJzhTVX4nR-iMAGkfaPgm3ROB8uIDuwFCNuACeup0M-mWLFkBoxYztliDHfDL97Q/s320/Follies.jpg" width="320" /></a>Thirty years on, it's fascinating seeing it again. Of course, back then I was the age of the younger cast; now I'm with the older cast looking back. That's an interesting way to do a show...<br />
<br />
Follies at the the National is sensational. The best acted and best sung production imaginable. Not star-studded, but properly cast (and that's not to disrespect Imelda Staunton or anyone else - but it does avoid stunt casting), and with the younger actors constantly shadowing their older selves like ghosts of the questioning past, it sends endless shivers down the spine. The madness of regret - the follies of age and youth - are played out remorselessly before an audience that applauds every last emotional mistake. A stunning theatrical triumph.<br />
<br />
I saw it again.<br />
<br />
As with An American in Paris, the second viewing was even more powerful than the first. I got (for the first time) how the 'review' songs actually comment on the unfolding catastrophe of the two main couples' lives. It's a show where nothing happens and everything happens, where the show we put on for everyone else finally crumbles to the reality of who we are and where everyone sees the theatre of our lives pulled down - and no-one notices.<br />
<br />
It's bombastic. It's nuanced beyond belief. It's a marvel.<br />
<br />
And then...<br />
<br />
When I told friends here last January I had booked to see Hamilton, they said, "What's that?"<br />
When I told them this week I was going to see Hamilton, they said, "Wow! How did you get tickets!"<br />
<br />
I booked because a friend in the US went to see it on Broadway. It's not the kind of thing I'd expect her to like. But she came away raving about it. So I wanted to see it for myself.<br />
<br />
It's a sung-through show, like Andrew Lloyd Webber or Les Mis. Not like AiP or Follies. And - the publicity tells you - it's hip hop. So it doesn't sound like my kind of thing.<br />
<br />
But Hamilton is for me no Lloyd Webber show; and though I know someone (an otherwise sane someone) who has seen Les Mis more times than she's celebrated Christmas, Hamilton is considerably a better show than Les Mis. (I agree with Doctor Who on Les Mis - life's just too short.) And it's a lot more than a hip hop show - though - oh my - what power that music has, and how incredibly is it deployed.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeMzgA6b1xfzBHWD0pP1qs4LVmtsyVFIFbVJQw6MItsYpHEuYpUJDof1MRNH-wvL8Z5lTu2hsA2d8Loz7Ngt-aXs53fZcj8ErVcecaNAYLxlxslMRAMU-y5zS2deI-2F2Mt0ftQ/s1600/Hamilton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeMzgA6b1xfzBHWD0pP1qs4LVmtsyVFIFbVJQw6MItsYpHEuYpUJDof1MRNH-wvL8Z5lTu2hsA2d8Loz7Ngt-aXs53fZcj8ErVcecaNAYLxlxslMRAMU-y5zS2deI-2F2Mt0ftQ/s320/Hamilton.jpg" width="320" /></a>First: the experience. Lots of the crowd know the show beforehand. (Given I went in the first week, I guess they were really keen, so they have the recording.) It felt much more like a karaoke show than AiP - but that was because of the frisson in the crowd, which made Hamilton - first time West End actor Jamael Westman - feel like a pop star when he stepped forward. It was indeed worthy of the standing ovation it received - my only feeling was that the crowd should have kept going longer. The players deserved more from us.<br />
<br />
Then: the show. From the moment it began, it was sensational. It has a power, a rhythm which sweeps you along. The music is varied, the words are profoundly clever, and if at times I found myself wanting more emotion than I was getting - it came. And if I found myself wanting a change of pace, a little light and shade, it too came. From the relentless to the heartbreaking. From the politics to the personal.<br />
<br />
Westman is impressive: head and shoulders taller than many of the cast, he holds himself with an enthusiasm and an authority that grows and is shattered as the evening passes. Terrific.<br />
<br />
The colour-blind casting is beautiful. A vision of how humanity can be. Of how a nation could be. Should be. If anything, it draws attention to the way in which all the action is driven by men - the women are very secondary - till the very end. And then, one of the main themes of the whole show - who gets to tell the story - is thrown on its head and the woman's voice rings out and re-tells the truth. Beautifully, heartrendingly, better.<br />
<br />
Given the ticket availability, I doubt I'll see this one a second time. But maybe I'll try...<br />
<br />
I want a musical to entertain, to raise me up, to make me cry, to make me laugh, to engage and to amaze.<br />
All three of these delivered in spades.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-3337234902819308662017-11-29T22:32:00.000+00:002017-11-29T22:32:02.963+00:00Time travelling. The annual pass.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivBxuPfJssr97M_S-X0WRo5w_7qQd_gchMB5rYUfKAHAMCRFEv4u20N_0EaDGz0Vx0v2eIqmwcbgsuucHf_1U_CZi8hGJvsmJ7cfvqv1BJzDe41O6v81nf0sq3FSh0BOA-_kxfQ/s1600/Harry+%2526+Marcus+51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivBxuPfJssr97M_S-X0WRo5w_7qQd_gchMB5rYUfKAHAMCRFEv4u20N_0EaDGz0Vx0v2eIqmwcbgsuucHf_1U_CZi8hGJvsmJ7cfvqv1BJzDe41O6v81nf0sq3FSh0BOA-_kxfQ/s320/Harry+%2526+Marcus+51.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I've been having fun receiving the annual natal congrats today.<br />
<br />
FaceBook has decided that a year after my 50th, I'm celebrating my 40th. Well, if it's on the internet, it must be true.<br />
<br />
Though @realDonaldTrump hasn't posted about is, so, it may not be completely true. Or it may be very true. Depending on where you get your fake from these days.<br />
<br />
Last time I was 40, I had an evening do in the Gelliwastad Club in Pontypridd, with the quartet playing, and lots of friends in black tie. This time was a much quieter day.<br />
<br />
Harry & I had a good walk (see picture) in the November sun - and wind, which was quite cold; I baked; I went to see a Janacek opera.<br />
<br />
Janacek. There's a guy who knew a good time: "From the House of the Dead". An opera set in a prison camp. I tell you, I know how to celebrate being 40 again. Well, WNO are in Oxford for the week, so I'm going to the full set - Tchaikovsky, Janacek, Strauss. One of these is genuinely a bundle of laughs.<br />
<br />
Speaking of laughs, if I let myself, I could describe the whole experience of being 50 as interesting. In the Chinese proverb "interesting times" way, rather than in the "want to have more time being 50 so I can explore it and understand even more of it" way. More Janacek than Strauss.<br />
<br />
And then I'd have to add - as Stephen Sondheim so memorably said in a song I've enjoyed again this year in its West End revival - "Lord knows at least I was there, and I'm still here..."<br />
<br />
Yet that doesn't quite hit the mark. I've had some fragile times this year. But I was also given the gift of a piano, and I've been playing it every day, sitting down and finding songs old and new to sing and enjoy. All sorts of songs, but at the start of each day - worship songs. It has been a wonderful gift to have this piano. It has kept me spiritually close to God, as such a gift should.<br />
<br />
And in my car as I've driven around, all sorts of music has healed my soul. Bach, of course. And Beethoven. And Basie. And Shostakovich - who knew? And most recently some old recordings of worship songs that Dan & Kirsty & I did together before they left Pontypridd. Just the three of us playing through songs and hymns. Simple, beautiful.<br />
<br />
I guess I'm saying - it's been a year. There have been moments of fragility. There have been touches of God.<br />
<br />
On my second visit to Florida this year I got an art piece which simply says "Rise'. Because every year, often every day gives the choice - is the cup half full or half empty? Which way are you going to see life? Which way are you going to let life see you? Sometimes it really does feel like Back to the Future, facing all the same old same olds all over again, and if the empty won before - how do we do this again?<br />
<br />
Because we rise. Because we have a God who rose for us and gives us the same power. Because it doesn't matter what age, what day, what mood we find ourselves in. This may just feel like a crucifixion day: but there's a rising coming. And I choose - now, today, always - to fix my eyes on the rising. To fix my eyes on Jesus, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross.<br />
<br />
If it's good enough for Jesus...<br />
<br />
As a Christian, I'm supposed to be able to do a little spiritual time travelling on a regular basis - and that's no Fake News. Because we're all supposed to need to look to Easter today in order to reach tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<br />Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-13646968869411861342017-08-08T18:02:00.001+01:002017-08-08T18:02:24.487+01:00giving thanks in all thingsThis last weekend I preached in church on the Feeding of the Five Thousand.<br />
<br />
The Gospel reading was the Matthew 14 version of this story. It's a great story, and slightly unusual in that it's one of the few that comes in all four Gospels.<br />
<br />
And as I preached, one of my very favourite things happened:<br />
I preached to myself.<br />
<br />
I suddenly realised that what I was saying, I was saying to me. The words coming out of my mouth spoke to me.<br />
<br />
Now, honestly, it'd be great if every time I preached the power of the word challenged my heart and changed me. But - honestly - this isn't always true. I do try to apply what I say to myself. I do try to think how what I am teaching will help me. But it doesn't always hit me between the eyes and go - Wow! This is God's word to you today!<br />
<br />
But this week this happened.<br />
<br />
I was carefully working through the text, and explaining how Jesus' disciples weren't quite as filled with endless stores of compassion as Jesus. First, they complain; and second they top the complaint with a problem which they reckon will sort out the issue to their liking.<br />
<br />
Jesus is busy healing, having compassion on the crowd, when the disciples have had enough. They want a break. So they suggest it's time to stop. This is the complaint. "Can't we go home now?" "Haven't we done enough already?" Or, in the words of the text: "Send them away to buy their own food. It's late."<br />
<br />
Jesus smiles. Concerned about them being hungry? I'm delighted you're learning, and still showing concern. Why don't you feed them?<br />
<br />
So the disciples add the deciding problem to the complaint in order to finish the matter off:<br />
"But we have here only five bits of bread and two scraps of fish. Not enough for so many people. End of."<br />
<br />
And Jesus lifts his face to God, and says - "Good point. Send 'em home"<br />
<br />
No - Jesus does something glorious.<br />
<br />
Something so counter-intuitive it changes the world.<br />
<br />
Something unthinkably, ridiculously and perfectly Godly.<br />
<br />
He picks up the problem. The bread, the fish. The not enough food. And he thanks God for it.<br />
He thanks God for the problem.<br />
<br />
Then he breaks the bread. Gives it to the complaining disciples. And the complaining disciples find themselves feeding the massive crowd.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I have a confession to make: as a rector, there are times when people complain to me. I know, this may come as a surprise. And, sometimes, to top off the complaint, people will add a problem which really does finish things off.<br />
<br />
Or it's meant to.<br />
<br />
Know what I mean?<br />
<br />
"And on top of that, he voted Brexit."<br />
"And you'll remember she let us down last year as well."<br />
"Well, we've never done it this way before."<br />
<br />
But Jesus takes the very thing that is presented as the deciding problem and gives thanks for it. And the giving thanks leads to the problem being broken. And to the disciples stopping complaining and the crowd being fed.<br />
<br />
When was the last time you gave thanks for a problem, a difficulty, something that you didn't like?<br />
<br />
I can tell you when it happened to me. Sunday morning. As I preached.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I've got a meeting this week. With some people I'm finding really hard at the moment. It's their fault things are tricky, obviously. Clearly I'm beyond reproach, in this as in all things.<br />
<br />
But I have been dreading this meeting.<br />
<br />
Yet as I spoke about this moment, this thanksgiving, this transformational thing that Jesus does, this grabbing the problem that tops the complaint and thanking God for it -<br />
I suddenly realised I had to stop my internal monologue of complaint and lift up my upcoming meeting, and all the people involved, the issues around it, the whole darn thing and thank God for every part of it.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
We've not got there yet.<br />
<br />
The week is young.<br />
<br />
I have no idea how this will play out.<br />
<br />
But what I do know is that I have been changed by an act of thanksgiving. I am in a different place. I am no longer dreading something ahead. It may well not work out as I'd like! I am however thanking God for his love, his kindness, his provision and his Lordship. However this time goes, he will still be Lord. He will still love everyone involved. He will still kindly bring good and provide a way through. I don't have to fight this battle - nor, I suspect, many of the battles I attempt - right now I just have to lift up the thing to God and be grateful.<br />
<br />
And perhaps the thankfulness rather than the struggle will mean I am able to find the compassion and care that he is already working out for more people than I can yet begin to number.<br />
<br />
So yes, God used the preacher in church this Sunday to say something that really hit me. And the preacher was me. We really do live in an age of miracles. Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-58708274982393407312017-05-02T13:03:00.003+01:002017-05-02T15:29:07.657+01:00supremely and ardently solicitousAs I take a holiday, it's good to catch up on a little light reading.<br />
<br />
Taking in some back copies of the Harbinger (the journal of the Countess of Huntingdon's Connexion in the 1850s), as you do, I came across a piece eulogising a family member. Betty Smith was one of the daughters of my five-times great grandfather, John Green. He had 15 children.<br />
<br />
I don't know who wrote this piece, but it's quite lovely to read - first, because although my family of that period were well-known both for being ardent church-goers and entrepreneurs (opening both coal mines and railways but having the decency always to list themselves simply as "farmers" on the census), it's another thing altogether actually to find someone from my family in a period journal as this. And second - the language is gloriously, languidly Victorian.<br />
<br />
Her father died young, and her mother gave her "a strictly moral and religious training, followed by the best results". "For personal holiness she was supremely and ardently solicitous" (and who wouldn't want to be described in such a way?!), "She was a genuine specimen of a Christian", "an eminent pattern of guileless simplicity". I hope the photos I include of the article are sufficient for you to enjoy the whole piece - it's a terrific read.<br />
<br />
Well. My family may not be mine owners any more; the money came and went with the coal. But it's rather humbling to find a record of a family member born almost two hundred years ago who "was strong in the faith and hope of 'the glorious gospel of the blessed God'". Some things are indeed eternal. I can only hope I too might leave such a story behind. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ2zncZYRht6LCEY6n0KungGPm0T89TbJ3GJclFvQIj_oJ0SVJp3YvD0oYFiYs-xi9GB1sPnQJEmdfeWXSZM3JckSzla6Z7I6v7zb7f3fZBtJJHKZJCnsld-T0u5OyvuGuF0Row/s1600/Mrs+Betty+Smith+p1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ2zncZYRht6LCEY6n0KungGPm0T89TbJ3GJclFvQIj_oJ0SVJp3YvD0oYFiYs-xi9GB1sPnQJEmdfeWXSZM3JckSzla6Z7I6v7zb7f3fZBtJJHKZJCnsld-T0u5OyvuGuF0Row/s400/Mrs+Betty+Smith+p1.jpg" width="282" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgzoeXueq8ovm5DcDtBmfLGRzROT0wGCiGT70U8Rpa-FRt88EPFOxU4a4NnpNcQVe4R9sSyVPhFin8vqKA8-1t4Xnl9wyDbf22EhJc3Iizch_wIPsH__hSIGVMHC-QSvDXDVI6w/s1600/Mrs+Betty+Smith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgzoeXueq8ovm5DcDtBmfLGRzROT0wGCiGT70U8Rpa-FRt88EPFOxU4a4NnpNcQVe4R9sSyVPhFin8vqKA8-1t4Xnl9wyDbf22EhJc3Iizch_wIPsH__hSIGVMHC-QSvDXDVI6w/s400/Mrs+Betty+Smith.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-75739683015647707452017-02-15T21:45:00.000+00:002017-02-16T09:33:09.006+00:00songs of hopeSo the General Synod <a href="https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2017/17-february/news/uk/synod-rebuff-for-bishops-report-on-sexuality#.WKS-EF2homI.facebook">refused to take note</a> of the House of Bishops Report.<br />
<br />
But this is just a line in a long song of hope. This report is now consigned to the filing cabinet of ecclesiastical history; it does not enter the sad canon of such reports that line up to make gay people the problem, or add to the litany of texts that can be used to keep gay people in our second-class place. <br />
<br />
However, we have many more choruses to sing before we reach a final shout of joy. And I mean, a final shout of joy for the whole Church and for all people.<br />
<br />
This report couldn't be part of that journey because it excluded some. Please, we don't get to continue the journey by excluding others. Music needs melody and harmony, tune and counterpoint, working together. The Church needs the whole music of God not just one part of it. This report could not be a part of the song of God's people because some of us couldn't sing it. The same is true if some others can't sing either.<br />
<br />
Silence is part of music; but not when the mutes are taped to our faces and the score says "play loud!"<br />
<br />
Well; what do I want now?<br />
<br />
I've been asked that question by two bishops in the last week. One of them asked me this tonight. And I've given them both the same answer.<br />
<br />
John Donne's phrase: One equal music.<br />
<br />
I want a Church that sees we are all equally human. Equality isn't a fad or a bonus or an added-extra. It's an essential for all people. We don't just give it to those we like or to those we agree with. We give it to all people because they are people. And then we deal with the consequences - which we may not like. We don't search the Scriptures for reasons why we treat others differently, we take it as read that we are the same and apply the same standards to all unless there is overwhelming reason to make an exception. And if there is doubt, we give the benefit of the doubt because the equality of our standing before God brings us to that place. That grace. That glory.<br />
<br />
And in the meantime, as the bishops decide what next, I implore them to sack all the lawyers! Inspire us with your vision of God. I can live with not getting what I want (for now - because what I want is to be as much a person as anyone else, and ultimately I don't see how you deny that Scripturally) as long as you inspire the Church of God - which this last report signally failed to do.<br />
<br />
Every Bishop I know is an inspiring person. Be who you are. Sing your song. Sing us some hope. These are the songs we have for every person in our land. Sing them for us.<br />
<br />
I promise, I'll take note when you do.<br />
<br />
<i>A Day Later</i><br />
And, to keep my word: Archbishop Justin <a href="http://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles.php/5841/statement-from-the-archbishop-of-canterbury-following-todays-general-synod">published this comment</a> after the Synod vote. It's about as far from the tone of the original Report as it's possible to be, and has that edge of intention and inspiration that I am asking for. Thank you. Much more of the same, please.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-28115110806838703852017-01-30T19:42:00.002+00:002017-01-30T19:47:34.351+00:00responsibility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZEgXLZP-ZHymqSvKCbLHmHksEeRBkg1HkRbQutCAoty6XlEg6FLD8e-v3r0YSggu8Wpa-crAJSMW5BbLdxipwtmuSuyzRJhF3deNQURuJLzvP-lAoPF3wMUyVcyJA1b24297_w/s1600/Pope+Quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZEgXLZP-ZHymqSvKCbLHmHksEeRBkg1HkRbQutCAoty6XlEg6FLD8e-v3r0YSggu8Wpa-crAJSMW5BbLdxipwtmuSuyzRJhF3deNQURuJLzvP-lAoPF3wMUyVcyJA1b24297_w/s320/Pope+Quote.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
As the world goes mad, we all have a responsibility to try to welcome back some sanity.<br />
<br />
This happens in different ways, and we will all work out how we should act differently. I think that's fine. But sitting by the sidelines, flicking on the news and switching to an old episode of Friends instead is not an option.<br />
<br />
Not anymore.<br />
<br />
We need to be friends with people who hold different opinions to us - we need to care for them and see the humanity in those who disagree. We need to listen and talk and try to hold our own prejudices at bay just long enough so that a conversation might be slightly more civilised than a shouting match.<br />
<br />
When generosity and kindness have left the room, the only thing to do is to invite them back in. Someone has to. It might as well be us.<br />
<br />
This means we lose arguments in order to win people. People always matter more.<br />
<br />
And yet...<br />
<br />
And yet, there comes a moment when the world goes so mad that amongst all of this (which always, always applies) there come 'line in the sand' moments. Moments which define a time. Moments which we realise when they are happening, and which we will all look back on and for which we will all have to answer - what did you do then?<br />
<br />
I hit such a personal moment a few years back when I realised that I had totally accepted for most of my life that I was a second-class human being because I was gay. Seeing that I had genuinely believed and lived this out clearly helped me change - and helped me as I worked through my beliefs as a Christian, and my understanding of the Scriptures. (Which, of course, have no room at all for such an idea. Those of you who don't like St Paul need to sort yourselves out; we have a lot to thank him for.) This drives me passionately, and when I see anyone treating anyone else as if they are somehow 'less', I will always side with the powerless party. Even if I don't like their cause.<br />
<br />
Christ is the light that lightens every person; we are all made in God's image; these are foundational and precious truths. People are people.<br />
<br />
Western Society is hitting a profound moment right now because powerful people are taking their moment to soft-pedal the equal humanity of all. They do it for all sorts of plausible reasons. Our safety, our economic well-being, our ability to define ourselves; but the message is the same. We are better; they are less; let's assert ourselves!<br />
<br />
It's ungodly, it's unChristian, it's unBiblical, and it's inhumane. It's dehumanising.<br />
<br />
So - what are we doing in the midst of these days? Flicking from the news to old episodes of 'Friends'? ("Seriously - they were on a break!")<br />
<br />
Or talking to folk we disagree with? Listening to opinions we find hard, but they come from real people, so let's understand that and give all people the right to be people. All people. The ones we like and the ones we don't. And let's make sure that in winning this battle for the right for people to be people we don't simply adopt methods we would rail against in others; so no shouting down, no belittling.<br />
<br />
Truth must out. Honesty must be our language. Generosity and kindness are our friends; we bring them into every room.<br />
<br />
Those of us who are Christians know we follow a Lord who raises folk up, he doesn't grind them into the ground. For any reason. And we are his followers, with the responsibility to work as he does. No other way is acceptable.<br />
<br />
For his command is really simple. Jesus says: "Love God. Love your neighbour. Oh, and by the way, love your enemy too. Any questions?"Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-39077809665654975042017-01-28T11:42:00.000+00:002017-01-28T11:42:05.950+00:00giftsSo on Holocaust Memorial Day 2017, two gifts:<br />
<br />
In England, the House of Bishops <a href="https://www.churchofengland.org/media/3863472/gs-2055-marriage-and-same-sex-relationships-after-the-shared-conversations-report-from-the-house-of-bishops.pdf">published a report</a> declaring that gay people shouldn't have all the same rights as straight people.<br />
<br />
In the US, Donald Trump <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/jan/27/trump-immigration-plan-refugees-vetting-reaction">signed an executive order banning Muslims</a> from entering that country.<br />
<br />
Both of these are banner headlines, both of these statements lack nuance, but both of these things are essentially true.<br />
<br />
And both of these things are appropriate gifts for Holocaust Memorial Day, which, after all, reminds us that discrimination and prejudice are timeless evils which we must always battle hard to defeat. They are not about other people in the past. They lie in our own souls, and we cannot afford to point the finger at anyone else.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTIK370khQ53i2HmOlUbECT7-MjN3teIPEkp8VnHJFFslFdocIOWFXNttKGyuB9tAohXvjJ9_AO8Vt12PYauLffSxwu0ixAX58wO8y8u6SkezaqVRG56p5ry4g67ChX5YCGgb-Q/s1600/steve-turner-quote-history-repeats-itself-has-to-nobody-listens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTIK370khQ53i2HmOlUbECT7-MjN3teIPEkp8VnHJFFslFdocIOWFXNttKGyuB9tAohXvjJ9_AO8Vt12PYauLffSxwu0ixAX58wO8y8u6SkezaqVRG56p5ry4g67ChX5YCGgb-Q/s200/steve-turner-quote-history-repeats-itself-has-to-nobody-listens.jpg" width="200" /></a>This is today. This is now.<br />
<br />
As Steve Turner said -<br />
<b>History repeats</b><br />
<b>Itself. Has to.</b><br />
<b>Nobody listens. </b>Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-44376679114243348142017-01-27T12:56:00.000+00:002017-01-27T13:00:50.071+00:00glassesSo the Church of England House of Bishops today published a paper on <a href="https://www.churchofengland.org/media/3863472/gs-2055-marriage-and-same-sex-relationships-after-the-shared-conversations-report-from-the-house-of-bishops.pdf">Marriage and Same Sex Relationships</a>. There's a link to the official press report on it <a href="https://www.churchofengland.org/media-centre/news/2017/01/general-synod-press-conference.aspx">here</a>.<br />
<br />
The headline is - it's a fudge.<br />
<br />
To precis:<br />
Nothing changes, but we want to make it clear we welcome gay people. Marriage doctrine ain't gonna change - it's very much about one man, one woman - and whilst we thought about recommending (or even just commending) some liturgy for clergy to help mark parishioners celebrating civil partnerships or gay marriages, we thought better of it. More, whilst we want to be really generous about how we consider gay people in ministry and in the church generally, gay sex isn't really on so clergy need to remember that if you aren't in a heterosexual marriage you have to be celibate. Though please, we do understand that loving people matters as a missional church and we'd hate to be heard to say anything that gives any other kind of impression.<br />
<br />
Right.<br />
<br />
To respond:<br />
I saw a bishop yesterday. I'm seeing another tomorrow. Both of them godly people. Both of them very straight, both of them married with kids, both of them evangelical, both of them kind and wonderful men. But as they are members of the House of Bishops, this is what they get from me.<br />
I'm not like you. My world is a different place. I've tried to be like you, to see the world your way, to live like you, and it made me very, very ill. Now here's the thing - in the Scriptures, salvation & healing are the same root word. And when I accepted who & how God made me to be, not only did I become well physically, I became well spiritually. Salvation came at a deeper level.<br />
And the follow on from this is not that I need you to change, not that I need you to see the world my way or be like me - but I'd love you to allow me to be me. I know, I know - "...<i>but the Scriptures</i>..." Here's the thing. We read them differently, you and I, because our worlds are different. You have these glasses on, this world view you carry round with you that makes you see certain things and suddenly there's a huge red flag waving around. It's not there for me. Anything but. Don't worry, I know I wear glasses too. Actually - my concern is that on this issue, because you are in the massive majority you don't always realise you have your glasses on and you don't get the effect they have. Because I'm constantly a foreigner living in your strange land, I always, always do.<br />
But still I think we might both be able to work together. Equal rights aren't like pie: more for me doesn't mean less for you.<br />
If anything, it works the other way.<br />
Because it's a salvation issue, a healing thing. And the more whole I am, the more whole you are, because we are part of the same body and St Paul writes that if one part of the body is sick the whole body is.<br />
<br />
So please: stop being so kind and polite and start being good.<br />
I will fight this fight not because I need you to accept that I am as human as you - I know I am, and every time you publish something that doesn't quite get it, I'll remind you - but there are others who see what you say, who see your smile and your dog collar and your purple and your mitre and who lose something of their value in God. On your watch. On our watch.<br />
<br />
Come on, there are words in this report that say we are all fearfully and wonderfully made. Have the courage to push those words to their logical, Biblical, godly conclusion. Either all people are people, or we aren't. And if we are -<br />
<br />
And if we are, then those glasses of yours may need adjusting.<br />
Because in Christ we are here to live to the full and to love God and one another. Just like you.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-7002138104612402822017-01-08T19:36:00.002+00:002017-01-08T19:36:41.129+00:00epiphany<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmz6EXN3ez0Q4JQPXLHxWaaT9mmuRuDr_MY_geXU1n53V69DEdVWh6Ad0iLZIKc0qDtJGOy90aa-KqsEsk3XDpRtZMbO2awMCgIA8uu3bI9l2DxgYzT9qqZKCccNyDDsmCQg2rg/s1600/USA+2008+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmz6EXN3ez0Q4JQPXLHxWaaT9mmuRuDr_MY_geXU1n53V69DEdVWh6Ad0iLZIKc0qDtJGOy90aa-KqsEsk3XDpRtZMbO2awMCgIA8uu3bI9l2DxgYzT9qqZKCccNyDDsmCQg2rg/s320/USA+2008+005.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-kerning: none;">Does anyone know who I am?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am one of the Magi, one of the Wise Men who visited the infant Jesus. But beyond that, I seem to have been mislaid by history.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">They have made up a name for me. Some of you may have heard of Caspar, Melchior & Balthazar. Invented names. In one land I am Rustaham-Gondofarr Suren-Pahlav, which is exotic, but still a fiction. So who am I? </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Am I a king? Maybe, probably not. Were there really three of us at all? No-one knows, it’s just a convention – we brought three gifts, that’s all that’s recorded, & people presume we brought one gift each. But who knows?</span><span style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration: line-through;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Some think I’m an astrologer. A hippy on a camel, doubtless with strange eastern habits, greeting his new-born guru. And I think they mistake Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh as evidence of extravagance, when we meant them as tokens of worship. It’s not my favourite version of me. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">In the history books, Gentiles always make me a Gentile. “Look! Non-Jewish people get to see baby Jesus!” Hmm. I understand this desire: if I am someone like you, then someone like you was there when Jesus was born. So everyone wants to make me in their own image. I wonder if this is how God feels sometimes? </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Hundreds of years before us, there was a Jewish man who lived in our land, who so pleased our King that he made him chief of the Magi. Some of you may have heard of Daniel. He has a book in the Bible. His writings made some of us look out for certain signs that one day God himself would step into the world to make everything new. And if we should see these signs, we should drop everything and go to worship him.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">My friends and I used to debate what Daniel’s words might have meant. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">How could God walk the earth? Not since the Garden of Eden has this happened. What would God do – just appear, or actually be born as a baby? I remember saying I’d need some pretty big sign to persuade me this could happen!</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">And one day, one of my friends simply lifted a single finger and pointed to the sky.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">That night we set out. We journeyed west. There was a small scare as we made a stop-over in Jerusalem and suffered a visit from Herod’s secret police. We told him we only wanted to worship the King of the Jews. He seemed about to get very angry, before smiling thinly and agreeing he would like to join us – would we tell him when we had found this King?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">And we did find him. When we got there, he was a small child in a small house in a small village, yet in that room all our questions and questing, all our words and debates, all our lives and indeed our very selves were stilled by a deep underlying silence leading into a sort of helplessness before God. We fell to our knees and worshipped Jesus. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">The whole world was in that room with us. I swear it. And you may not know my name, history may have mislaid me, but I found myself in that place as I worshipped, as I had never found myself before. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">This is who I am. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">This is who I am meant to be. A human being worshipping my Creator in the midst of His creation, and you can take everything else I have from me – my riches, my pride, my name. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">For in giving my worship, my love, my all here in this place, I have now a treasure beyond my wildest dreams.</span></div>
Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-43117736328772913132016-12-28T17:24:00.000+00:002016-12-30T13:28:59.093+00:00year's end<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicsyf567vHvbRYlyngPgvDhmUfLFgSuV6uUPdJ46iLsy_6woDXyec2ROIdLtgcY_k8Dpx5rVDUmHnb6q_McZqz-qbAHjmI_ie2puvm9VZASxxQ85wPFo0LSBK1LgZI2kC2rf6Pzw/s1600/Christmas+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicsyf567vHvbRYlyngPgvDhmUfLFgSuV6uUPdJ46iLsy_6woDXyec2ROIdLtgcY_k8Dpx5rVDUmHnb6q_McZqz-qbAHjmI_ie2puvm9VZASxxQ85wPFo0LSBK1LgZI2kC2rf6Pzw/s200/Christmas+2016.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I've been celebrating my 50th all year, mostly in a futile attempt to over-compensate. I've sort of been going round, happily embracing the idea of the new decade, seeing friends, in the hope that if I pretended it was OK it would be.<br />
<br />
It's not. It's much more complicated.<br />
<br />
But the idea of seeing friends this year was a masterstroke. If I haven't seen you, I apologise; next year in Jerusalem. 2016 has been full of meetings and laughter and memories and joy. I have seen folk I haven't been with for years, and I have loved every second. From Paris and the Dordogne to Nashville and DC, with Cornwall, Florida, Wales, London and all sorts of other places thrown in, it's been great to travel and to see folk - and the party on September when a ton of people came here was amazing.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikoRYnDIWGK3Rp3C2IL6oX7TRLtgp6S6wQmsaeoqf4IH-vSRvt_qj8k-8JBk2mgV4YDDBRG7yseyFcEB6Cvz2_P27Req-IgiAcvw-D7QRfMMKRxCcxtDslo0ZBbiCKnA3mR5fyKw/s1600/Scooby+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikoRYnDIWGK3Rp3C2IL6oX7TRLtgp6S6wQmsaeoqf4IH-vSRvt_qj8k-8JBk2mgV4YDDBRG7yseyFcEB6Cvz2_P27Req-IgiAcvw-D7QRfMMKRxCcxtDslo0ZBbiCKnA3mR5fyKw/s200/Scooby+Tree.jpg" width="200" /></a>I don't think I could even begin to choose highlights from the year. It's like choosing my favourite chocolate - normally the answer to that one is "the one right here right now".<br />
<br />
Though (to go for a non-friend memory) it might be a very long time before I forget the LSO's Verdi Requiem back in September... It's good to hear music you love done so well it makes you weep. And an afternoon in DC with Karen is always, always a joy. As was Romans in an Hour at Truro Church. And now I've started...<br />
<br />
But I'll let the memories fade. The moments were enough. Thank you to everyone who made this year amazing. Thank you. For friendships and conversations and laughter and ideas that fill this life. For making me think harder, for agreeing and disagreeing and for being here and there and always only a thought and a prayer and an email away.<br />
<br />
Here's to more next year. I have a big house, a bigger garden, and the world's greatest university on my doorstep. Come visit soon.<br />
<br />
Finally, in a year filled with democratic surprises and celebrity demises, I'm just glad to be here. Grateful to be gifted with friends and family who agree and disagree over everything under the sun, grateful to have such variety of thought and opinion all around, grateful to feel the love of God and the challenge of his Spirit in every conversation and encounter. The job requires me to sit with families facing mortality, and please tell anyone who needs to know that should I choke on a turkey bone, I want you to laugh lots (at me, with me, whatever), talk about Jesus, sing nothing but resurrection songs, and finish the burial service with the William Tell overture. Hey, I'm fifty. I could have a Saga holiday; I get to think about these things...<br />
<br />
Oh - and as my first post of the year began with this song, just me and a guitar, let's finish with the same song, but with MGQ playing. <i>That</i> was a fun night.<br />
One day soon we all will be together...<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mZGRgDkEh1E" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-41997648480928779532016-11-29T23:51:00.003+00:002016-11-29T23:51:52.421+00:00congratulations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOb0fjsLwyvp6p6uorhn7vpjxoGGfZ4PKlzAMAbGqR2xivB-QV0NrnX1eoxywhZG4XfGxD98vwdkwSWfHh-2SbxwpIunHxjooWgQvSyGVnmh5wTjEvxJed3-rX5QBV5SdrtndgA/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
So here sit Harry & I, wondering what happened.<br />
<br />
50.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOb0fjsLwyvp6p6uorhn7vpjxoGGfZ4PKlzAMAbGqR2xivB-QV0NrnX1eoxywhZG4XfGxD98vwdkwSWfHh-2SbxwpIunHxjooWgQvSyGVnmh5wTjEvxJed3-rX5QBV5SdrtndgA/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOb0fjsLwyvp6p6uorhn7vpjxoGGfZ4PKlzAMAbGqR2xivB-QV0NrnX1eoxywhZG4XfGxD98vwdkwSWfHh-2SbxwpIunHxjooWgQvSyGVnmh5wTjEvxJed3-rX5QBV5SdrtndgA/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="200" /></a>How could it possibly be?<br />
<br />
It's been a lovely day. Sunshine and frost and crisp, early winter's air. Our morning walk was a delight. No deer in sight today, but a gentle haze softening the edges of the fields as they meet the sky, and barely a note of cloud to be found anywhere in the sky.<br />
<br />
Glorious.<br />
<br />
I don't recall the weather ten years ago. I do recall the party, in the Gelliwastad Club in Pontypridd. MGQ playing, lots of friends and family and parishioners all around.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPE3mZIIF6stA0lFTCNNZFe-EnKfsJUsAVoUXFjtSNKsSFZ7ZKjZLT6cNcr4Xh-KsCBblnKDNbbH2SEtauMlWi4LEKfLwldwFRlE1A3pYSDqtYUgdhNFmWeffUAzjrJcW3qt0AFA/s1600/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPE3mZIIF6stA0lFTCNNZFe-EnKfsJUsAVoUXFjtSNKsSFZ7ZKjZLT6cNcr4Xh-KsCBblnKDNbbH2SEtauMlWi4LEKfLwldwFRlE1A3pYSDqtYUgdhNFmWeffUAzjrJcW3qt0AFA/s200/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" width="200" /></a>This year's party was in September. In the garden. Tonight it was just a few friends here at home.<br />
<br />
Twenty years ago I had just moved to Aberystwyth. Though I moved in September, the house wasn't ready till the day before my birthday so I threw a housewarming-cum-birthday bash, and my tiny terraced cottage was filled with noise and joy.<br />
<br />
Twenty-five years ago I was flying home from Israel. I'd been there with a team from St Aldate's, working with the two Anglican churches in Jerusalem and then having a chance to sightsee in Galilee. During the second half of that trip, I'd had the most amazing experience. Taking an afternoon by myself (because I was fed up and cross) I had ended up genuinely meeting with God by the lakeside in Galilee, and still have the pebble I picked up as I prayed there. The dusk came in fast, and though I found a bus stop back to Tiberias, it was in Hebrew and I had no idea what it said so I started to walk back. A car stopped, and the older gent who offered a lift (I guess he was probably the age I am now) was a University lecturer - a philologist. He spoke six languages. Sadly, English was number six, and so we conversed in a mixture of broken French and English, and I told him that I was training to be a priest.<br />
<br />
He said:<br />
If you want God's want, you are (how you say) congratulations.<br />
<br />
Twenty-nine years ago this night happened in the University Church in Oxford, as I conducted the OICCU Carol Service on my 21st Birthday. I got my first CD player that day too. Goodness.<br />
<br />
The year before, I don't exactly recall what I was doing, but I do recall walking with friends in Oxford at night and being terribly depressed that I was no longer a teenager. The move from 19 to 20 seemed enormous.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw77KG8zwveCPmdDVEWfiSvLh3TTOh9AbWKpoZ6Q_kIV94zDCJ7uqjnxu2vG_CdtWWa2JR4npYbMFUmT0yA6QKvFG37KbJ0zzDPl_Gac0m1yJuWAk0SO2cXIaBP3GxvZ248vySmg/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw77KG8zwveCPmdDVEWfiSvLh3TTOh9AbWKpoZ6Q_kIV94zDCJ7uqjnxu2vG_CdtWWa2JR4npYbMFUmT0yA6QKvFG37KbJ0zzDPl_Gac0m1yJuWAk0SO2cXIaBP3GxvZ248vySmg/s200/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" width="200" /></a>That I have friends from those far off days around me this evening, friends who have known me through the years, and messages from around the world pinging on my phone all day, is all the gift anyone could ask for.<br />
<br />
The memories are selective; the blessings beyond number.<br />
<br />Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-32560946143522955512016-11-25T17:12:00.001+00:002016-11-25T17:17:20.960+00:00running with the 'graineSo let's finish the migraine post.<br />
<br />
Last time I wrote of the autumn mists of the migraine I was suffering. It's all over now, but it took its time, and one of the things that really helped was being able to find occasional past posts here and compare current experience with them... So to help my future self, here's how it ended.<br />
<br />
Well, the problem was it really struggled to end. The migraine itself was severe for two weeks. At fifteen days it had more or less burned itself out -the nausea, the vertigo, the severest of the headaches had all gone. But it just wouldn't die. It was like there was a room in my head I couldn't get into: I remained fuzzy, unable to function fully, to think clearly or to respond with the kind of mental acuity I regard as normal. Someone reminded me of something that had happened a week before - and I had no memory of it. All the sorts of things that go on during a migraine for me. And this low-grade murkiness, this tail-end fog just wouldn't clear. There was, in the end, another month of it before it dispersed.<br />
<br />
One Saturday, three parishioners prayed with me, and as they prayed I felt the clouds part and for an afternoon I had a wonderfully clear day. Really, that's just how it felt. The following morning was back to the usual tightrope between clarity and confusion. The closed door in my head. The frustration.<br />
<br />
I've been avoiding conflict - because any kind of conflict makes the general confusion much worse, and that internal room I can't get into gets bigger. I'm also aware I have been liable to being grumpier than usual, and dealing with conflict without the ability to bring in the kind of self-aware choosing of grace I would like to hope I sometimes have - well, that's not the way I like to deal with conflict. I have had to send one or two apology emails.<br />
<br />
I now have reading glasses.<br />
<br />
I saw the doctor who suggested I swapped between paracetamol and aspirin in order to take the edge off the thing. A cheap solution, and (with the addition of slightly upset stomach) a reasonably effective one.<br />
<br />
And then... it just faded. Finally. Six weeks after starting.<br />
<br />
I'm left feeling a bit exhausted, a bit empty, and more than a bit relieved. Here's to it being nine years or more before the next one.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-21172070975091833542016-10-26T11:54:00.002+01:002016-10-26T13:10:08.069+01:00autumn mists<span id="goog_997254544"></span><span id="goog_997254545"></span>It's been about nine years since I wrote on this site about the migraines I used to suffer from. As I read back, I wrote of attacks that lasted eleven or fifteen or twenty-two days, and referred to times three or four years prior to that when they lasted for months.<br />
<br />
It's funny how you forget.<br />
<br />
Well, actually, it's not funny, it's part of the deal. For me, a migraine isn't all about the screaming headache (which can happen); it's just as likely to be about nausea, about vertigo and about my head turning to custard so I can't think or remember or cope with two people speaking at once... I had Bach partitas playing in the car the other day, and had to turn them off because they were far too complicated for my brain to take in while I was driving.<br />
<br />
Yes, that's the thing, I'm having another migraine. Day nine today. In the ten years I have been on topirimate as a migraine preventative, I've hardly suffered at all. In the first few months, as I grew acclimatised, there were one or two shortish bouts - and then nothing. Just occasionally, one will start, but if I take even a paracetamol at that point the topirimate does its stuff and the migraine stops. It has been - and pretty much continues to be - a wonder drug for me.<br />
<br />
The problem was that last Tuesday I woke up with a migraine in full flow. My eyesight had almost fully pixellated, my head was in a mess, and I pretty much fell downstairs in my rush to get some painkillers down my throat. That's never happened before. I have no idea how I could have slept to that point. And, as a result, though the painkillers have taken the edge off the experience, it's all still going on.<br />
<br />
Of course, as one of the things that used to happen was that I'd lose memory - I really can't remember what I used to do when I had a migraine! Reading back through the few words I wrote ten years ago here has helped. It all feels very familiar. I had forgotten (though several friends have been reminding me) how I used to use Coca Cola to help. It still works - as does coffee, which I didn't really drink back then. So caffeine is a definite positive. But chocolate is a negative - that makes me much worse. Sadly, the days of topirimate helping me loose weight have long gone; my metabolism adjusted. And when I don't feel great, I do tend to eat more - even if I feel nauseous. Which right now I do most of the time.<br />
<br />
I had forgotten that as a migraine progressed I stop sleeping. That's a comfort; sleep is a bit hit and miss at the moment, so reading about it in the past is helpful. It takes the worry away.<br />
<br />
And if I stop and do nothing for a while, I can then sometimes store up some energy for something I want to be able to do - but this energy store can be completely dissipated by unexpected demands crashing in on me. <br />
<br />
It's just a migraine. It's not the end of the world. But I'd forgotten how powerless I feel when my head is turned to cotton wool and I am unable to engage with others. If you've tried to talk to me over the last week and I suddenly seem to have switched off - I did. But it was nothing to do with you. Or me, really. We'll try again soon.<br />
<br />
We're in the season of autumn mists; for now, they've invaded my head as well as the fields around me. The other night, driving home on the main road, a young stag ambled across the road in front of my car as I was speeding along at 60 miles an hour. My headlamps picked out its ghostly form in the soft fog as it gently strolled in front of me. A big beast, with no regard to anything I was doing, it came from nowhere and (mercifully) disappeared again without causing a (what seemed inevitable) crash.<br />
<br />
These days feel a little like that. Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-18598483320992838622016-10-26T11:54:00.000+01:002016-10-26T11:54:01.344+01:00autumn mists<span id="goog_997254544"></span><span id="goog_997254545"></span>It's been about nine years since I wrote on this site about the migraines I used to suffer from. As I read back, I wrote of attacks that lasted eleven or fifteen or twenty-two days, and referred to times three or four years prior to that when they lasted for months.<br />
<br />
It's funny how you forget.<br />
<br />
Well, actually, it's not funny, it's part of the deal. For me, a migraine isn't all about the screaming headache (which can happen); it's just as likely to be about nausea and my head turning to custard so I can't think or remember or cope with two people speaking at once... I had Bach partitas playing in the car the other day, and had to turn them off because they were far too complicated for my brain to take in while I was driving.<br />
<br />
Yes, that's the thing, I'm having another migraine. Day nine today. In the ten years I have been on topirimate as a migraine preventative, I've hardly suffered at all. In the first few months, as I grew acclimatised, there were one or two shortish bouts - and then nothing. Just occasionally, one will start, but if I take even a paracetamol at that point the topirimate does its stuff and the migraine stops. It has been - and pretty much continues to be - a wonder drug for me.<br />
<br />
The problem was that last Tuesday I woke up with a migraine in full flow. My eyesight had almost fully pixellated, my head was in a mess, and I pretty much fell downstairs in my rush to get some painkillers down my throat. That's never happened before. I have no idea how I could have slept to that point. And, as a result, though the painkillers have taken the edge off the experience, it's all still going on.<br />
<br />
Of course, as one of the things that used to happen was that I'd lose memory - I really can't remember what I used to do when I had a migraine! Reading back through the few words I wrote ten years ago here has helped. It all feels very familiar. I had forgotten (though several friends have been reminding me) how I used to use Coca Cola to help. It still works - as does coffee, which I didn't really drink back then. So caffeine is a definite positive. But chocolate is a negative - that makes me much worse. Sadly, the days of topirimate helping me loose weight have long gone; my metabolism adjusted. And when I don't feel great, I do tend to eat more - even if I feel nauseous. Which right now I do most of the time.<br />
<br />
I had forgotten that as a migraine progressed I stop sleeping. That's a comfort; sleep is a bit hit and miss at the moment, so reading about it in the past is helpful. It takes the worry away.<br />
<br />
And if I stop and do nothing for a while, I can then sometimes store up some energy for something I want to be able to do - but this energy store can be completely dissipated by unexpected demands crashing in on me. <br />
<br />
It's just a migraine. It's not the end of the world. But I'd forgotten how powerless I feel when my head is turned to cotton wool and I am unable to engage with others. If you've tried to talk to me over the last week and I suddenly seem to have switched off - I did. But it was nothing to do with you. Or me, really. We'll try again soon.<br />
<br />
We're in the season of autumn mists; for now, they've invaded my head as well as the fields around me. The other night, driving home on the main road, a young stag ambled across the road in front of my car as I was speeding along at 60 miles an hour. My headlamps picked out its ghostly form in the soft fog as it gently strolled in front of me. A big beast, with no regard to anything I was doing, it came from nowhere and (mercifully) disappeared again without causing a (what seemed inevitable) crash.<br />
<br />
These days feel a little like that. Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-46905653789176870772016-09-10T15:51:00.002+01:002016-09-10T15:51:42.010+01:00a very merry unbirthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1wvC70tJ4l1s_xGHeozg0Z5b4tBkh_1aIU-proKN_gqOlbNir_g4xWRj49zi8d9VJ_odHobDTDXOJkBK-49maMGzJSrKKNyYEsSVphUXOEUcHvvapqGTxcH4_BzgC-ES3gjc4g/s1600/IMG_2035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1wvC70tJ4l1s_xGHeozg0Z5b4tBkh_1aIU-proKN_gqOlbNir_g4xWRj49zi8d9VJ_odHobDTDXOJkBK-49maMGzJSrKKNyYEsSVphUXOEUcHvvapqGTxcH4_BzgC-ES3gjc4g/s200/IMG_2035.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
I'm not sure how long it has taken me to get over last Saturday.<br />
<br />
I certainly didn't sleep the night after; I was too overwhelmed - by the kindness of so many friends, by the generosity of so many folk from the parishes here.<br />
<br />
It's easy to think about putting on a birthday party. An un-birthday party. I'm not fifty till the end of November, and it seemed like a good idea to do a garden party sometime in the summer. The weather would be better. Folk could get here more easily. Everyone could come and I wouldn't have to worry about finding an indoor venue. My garden can fit any number.<br />
<br />
Of course, there is the English summer to reckon with...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrCqb0whyphenhyphen_TLzCpruqfEihl8TcvXj0ZeqpPbc10S6pHvs-kbQ7j5puQtPVo4fWyfFavF_dRaG1FO8HgxiqO7OR9WrBGsg5BvGb1Qd_dj2dc2rfrH27eTGX1UUyd64QXoD9batGQ/s1600/IMG_2036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrCqb0whyphenhyphen_TLzCpruqfEihl8TcvXj0ZeqpPbc10S6pHvs-kbQ7j5puQtPVo4fWyfFavF_dRaG1FO8HgxiqO7OR9WrBGsg5BvGb1Qd_dj2dc2rfrH27eTGX1UUyd64QXoD9batGQ/s200/IMG_2036.JPG" width="200" /></a>Thinking about it is one thing. Doing it is quite another. And I was helped beyond measure by several folk in the parishes, who rolled up their sleeves and pitched in. It's slightly invidious to mention names, but B. & A. were stars in organising the Tea Tent, sorting cups and drinks and cakes and sandwiches and asking lots of folk to help. Then there was a surprise Birthday cake and Prosecco... and a terribly kind speech from J; Then M. and his team from North Aston, plus a good little group from Steeple helped put up the two marquees - we were going with one, but the forecast made us do two; wisely, as it turned out! There are more folk I should thank. I am very grateful. Several friends from away asked - who did the catering? I replied - the amazing people of the parishes here. And people were indeed amazed.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Z7r-aKQGpVRFwLxiBb378C7zmWhhzCSWZkz9Jk2BLr_renoHmIz3ldGw01hpQa3ylSFfgyJrSMJEBJ6qko1tfamEyKG8Zlm1HTBNdGH0YxwdgEW3bsDdvt_z5EbwgsR5RQIj1w/s1600/IMG_2039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Z7r-aKQGpVRFwLxiBb378C7zmWhhzCSWZkz9Jk2BLr_renoHmIz3ldGw01hpQa3ylSFfgyJrSMJEBJ6qko1tfamEyKG8Zlm1HTBNdGH0YxwdgEW3bsDdvt_z5EbwgsR5RQIj1w/s200/IMG_2039.JPG" width="200" /></a>The marquees made the garden look like a scene from the Great British Bake Off. The tables inside heightened that effect. Perfect cakes, scones, sandwiches, and a magnificent centre piece.<br />
<br />
With around a hundred and fifty guests either packed into the tents or milling around on the lawn, depending on the state of the rain...<br />
<br />
I thought there might be about a hundred, but people kept coming. I'd look, and there was someone else arriving. Folk from here - wonderful people I am getting to know, and some of them, as they'd arrive, I'd be thinking of their stories and what is going on in their lives. Family events, weddings, concerns and joys.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5ASfFN3ZJAG6DAn1dzZxIFgZRbiERV_cUtpWpF8fT1l0YxT9aslMq5qYiXiWLQD_HMwWijSGLRPtKpPDAae4X9c75H9CuAq9mgAFrnjsR6Y3CUlFet7q1nHjLLjl8RdDHBR61Q/s1600/IMG_2042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5ASfFN3ZJAG6DAn1dzZxIFgZRbiERV_cUtpWpF8fT1l0YxT9aslMq5qYiXiWLQD_HMwWijSGLRPtKpPDAae4X9c75H9CuAq9mgAFrnjsR6Y3CUlFet7q1nHjLLjl8RdDHBR61Q/s200/IMG_2042.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
And then there were family members. And friends from school days, from student days, from St Aldates, from early days in Wales, from Aberystwyth, from Ridley, from Pontypridd. The only frustration for me was that with so many wonderful people, I could only stand and watch them talk to each other as I managed but a few words here and there.<br />
<br />
A few words from a full heart.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7YbsIM8wITa9JspF11lVJM_MYlS45qkEUlnfkc5wwJaflmXkvNoh4JOyyQxtqKO9Jfoq2XGWht6xqzRfCO-GYFq0bhJB4pQW2eaha8xJQks8Lsib1fqEJPTsnMnHkwvvkCKV97Q/s1600/IMG_2043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7YbsIM8wITa9JspF11lVJM_MYlS45qkEUlnfkc5wwJaflmXkvNoh4JOyyQxtqKO9Jfoq2XGWht6xqzRfCO-GYFq0bhJB4pQW2eaha8xJQks8Lsib1fqEJPTsnMnHkwvvkCKV97Q/s200/IMG_2043.JPG" width="200" /></a>I have said before that if a person's true wealth can be judged by the number of his friends, I am rich beyond counting. I think it is this which has stayed with me all week since last Saturday. God in his kindness has given me many gifts, but without doubt the greatest of them are the people who have touched and shaped my life. I looked around and saw some folk with whom I have known success and failure, some folk I've worked well with and some I've struggled with, some folk I was young and immature with and some in whom and from whom I have found deep, deep wisdom, some folk who should have given up on me years ago and I on them - and yet here we all were. What a wonderful thing. What a gift. What a rich thing is life that we get to live and grow and know and become, and become more and more, and we get to do it all together.<br />
<br />
Life is not perfect; this is earth, not heaven. But this earth has heavenly moments. And my unbirthday party was one of them.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-50684058303021702082016-08-29T20:27:00.001+01:002016-08-29T20:27:46.424+01:00degrees of truthAs the Reformation was kicking off in Germany just shy of four hundred years ago, a series of debates was proposed. On one side, Luther & his supporters, Karlstadt and Melanchthon. On the other, Eck, who would humbly announce his arrival by walking through town surrounded by a bodyguard of seventy six men, fifes and drums playing.<br />
<br />
As is the way of all debates, before the arguments over the core issues began, they argued over how they would argue. The format. Should there be books to refer to? Who should the judges be? And (early on) should there be stenographers present to record the debates verbatim?<br />
<br />
Eck argued against. They might reduce the white hot passion of the verbal exchanges. Philipp Melanchthon wryly replied -<br />
<br />
"<b>The truth might fare better at a lower temperature.</b>"<br />
<br />
I've been watching various conversations this weekend, in the church (locally and nationally), in the world (nationally and internationally), and been reminded of Melanchthon's dry wit and remarkable wisdom.<br />
<br />
And hoped I might remember it myself when it matters. <br />
<br />
<br />Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-4232989784551236892016-08-21T21:54:00.001+01:002016-08-21T21:57:02.121+01:00the new normal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMpVppYsDKj-BQZaWOO8z9cf58L6eSRDe5oBge9syAMz2SWkqNU40FyaRO47dJS5Kc49iYLHkvhFWHjTjOOxL6y1uXy8i25Lo8uqZstH4jeuDWxi_2ecFv209rWYayEG2Otn3Ew/s1600/2016+Medal+Table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMpVppYsDKj-BQZaWOO8z9cf58L6eSRDe5oBge9syAMz2SWkqNU40FyaRO47dJS5Kc49iYLHkvhFWHjTjOOxL6y1uXy8i25Lo8uqZstH4jeuDWxi_2ecFv209rWYayEG2Otn3Ew/s320/2016+Medal+Table.jpg" width="186" /></a></div>
It was in the summer of 2016 that the new sporting normal finally asserted itself.<br />
<br />
The old Soviet nations were struggling under the double whammy of large-scale drug suspicion and the collapse of any kind of state-sponsored support; China couldn't turn 1.4 billion citizens into more than a handful of medallists; and it was the supposedly traumatised British who came to the fore.<br />
<br />
The reason? It was the brainchild of one of Britain's greatest Prime-Ministers, Sir John Major. History has been kinder to Sir John than his contemporaries often were. It was his introduction of a national lottery (with its emphasis on cultural and sporting projects as chief spending priorities) that in only twenty years transformed Team GB from failures at the bottom of the medal table in Atlanta to heroes in second place at Rio.<br />
<br />
At a time when the nation was struggling with its identity, its place in Europe and the world, and indeed questions of whether it could even hold together, this global sporting success proved fundamental.<br />
<br />
Nationalist politicians were ultimately powerless against the strength of repeated broadcasts of athletes wrapped in Union flags, tunelessly belting out God Save the Queen several times a day. And when Team GB finally beat Team USA to the head of the Olympic standings only eight years later, US Secretary of State Ryan Lochte described it 'like being held up and robbed at gun point'. President of the British Olympic Association, Lord Murray, replied with his characteristic dry wit, 'Well, he'd know'.<br />
<br />
Of course, there were bumps on the road. There remain some faint memories of embarrassment that knighthoods used to be doled out to athletes who gained as few as four or five gold medals, and not necessarily at the same Olympiad. But those were different days, and we mustn't judge the past by the standards of today. After all, though it seems scarce possible now, at the time of the Sydney Millennium games even Australia was viewed as quite the sporting nation.<br />
<br />
The most remarkable change took far longer. But eventually the old national football associations realised they were never going to win anything ever again and watched the Olympians with such envy that, five Olympiads after London 2012 the Great Britain Football Association was finally created.<br />
<br />
And football (and with it the World Cup) duly came home.Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26129962.post-35059041838778912842016-07-23T23:19:00.002+01:002016-07-24T23:25:30.105+01:00compromisedI have a confession to make.<br />
<br />
The integrity of this blog has been seriously compromised.<br />
<br />
I've always been proud of the fact that I have no party allegiance (apart, clearly and sensibly, from being strongly anti-Ukip) and have critiqued anyone and everyone from Jeremy Corbyn to Donald Trump. Even before politics got silly, Gordon Brown and George W Bush both received the tough side of my love.<br />
<br />
And now I fear I have to declare an interest. The days of guaranteed impartiality on these pages may be nearing their end.<br />
<br />
To be fair, anyone who has any knowledge of my voting record knows that it is remarkably colourblind. I've been privileged to be able to vote for friends in most of the places where I have lived. That means I have put policy and party and wider matters aside when I have stepped into the voting booth and voted largely for the person.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipB7usfTScwsay06egUsjfE6iYzp_66lGhgQx51yS6_OxNG5PH2yk99P9y4S9ywVXjOnPoXGUOnTjOCFSNa40zPR7sxPZncyjc5Resg01PpOGzP5rlcCPv5bObhxNTAPoXgv7QgA/s1600/Friends+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipB7usfTScwsay06egUsjfE6iYzp_66lGhgQx51yS6_OxNG5PH2yk99P9y4S9ywVXjOnPoXGUOnTjOCFSNa40zPR7sxPZncyjc5Resg01PpOGzP5rlcCPv5bObhxNTAPoXgv7QgA/s200/Friends+001.JPG" width="200" /></a>But now a man who used to be my next door neighbour, a man I first met as he cut out the roots of a tree in his garden next to my kitchen, a man who has cooked for me and poured me more glasses of wine than either of us could count, a man who has helped me in my darker hours and celebrated with me in all kinds of joy, a man who has walked with my dogs and whose kids have learned to play on my piano - in other words, a man I trust completely: a friend - this man is on the ballot for <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/jul/19/owen-smith-jeremy-corbyn-labour-leadership-angela-eagle" target="_blank">leader of the Labour Party</a>.<br />
<br />
So I am compromised. I have no impartiality. I am not qualified to speak to his politics, but about his character I will say:<br />
Owen Smith is a good man, with a good heart, a heart and voice that says now for all to hear what I have heard in his home and mine for years.<br />
I am a friend, and therefore biased, and my bias is based on this:<br />
God has blessed me with many gifts, but the richest of them are my friends. I love Owen and Liz dearly, and am blessed indeed to have such friends as these.<br />
<br />
So my blog may well be compromised.<br />
But bring it on!<br />
<br />
PS - if you don't yet know Owen well, perhaps <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/tomphillips/how-owen-smith-are-you?utm_term=.caAprlNvnJ#.xhL49ndZ12">this might help</a>...Marcus Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06603530412980948533noreply@blogger.com0