Whose Rainbow is it?

This must be the ultimate confirmation of insanity in the Woke Moronochy. LGBT activists are now claiming the NHS has appropriated their rainbow!

Whose rainbow is it, anyway? 

To start with, what is a rainbow?

“A rainbow is a meteorological phenomenon caused by the reflection, refraction and dispersion of light in water droplets.” 

When this happens it results in a spectrum of light, in a great bow, appearing in the sky. It’s been doing it for millions of years, long before ancient man appeared on the earth, without any human help.

Rainbow by Met Office

It has been one of the best loved symbols throughout time. Give a group of small children a mix of crayons and some paper and it won’t be long before one or more of them will have drawn a rainbow. It seems to be instinctive. We have a big rainbow in the (defunct) children’s corner in our village church. We leave it there because we like the bright colours and hope one day the children will come back. 

It is NOT one of these rainbows. 

An LGBT+ Altar

I can’t remember when, but some years ago, perhaps many years ago, these rainbow flags and banners started appearing all over the place — outside supermarkets and petrol stations and inside churches — as a symbol of something labelled LGBT+. Without any explanation, somehow, it just seemed to happen.

Sometimes we saw rainbows in the sky.

Then along came Covid19. Suddenly there were rainbows all over the place again. Hand drawn in windows, painted outside houses, stuck on boards in hedges, and great banners in towns. And we would meet outside our houses on Thursday evenings and clap and cheer for the NHS and give thanks for all the hospital staff fighting the horrible virus on our behalf. 

Children’s Rainbows

When the weather was right, we would see a rainbow in the sky and we would smile and say a prayer of thanks for the NHS and their equivalents across the world.

“But gay rights campaigners have argued that the rainbow — a long-established LGBTQ+ symbol — has been “appropriated”.  And it’s feared it could undermine new pride badges set to identify medical staff whom gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people can feel comfortable talking to. Peter Tatchell, a gay rights campaigner, said that the LGBTQ+ community had been “robbed” and called on the health service to create its own symbol.” The Scottish Sun

I’ve not yet heard of any high ranking cleric bothering to explain what the Rainbow really is.

It is a symbol, but one that goes back thousands of years. In the Bible all the way back to Genesis and the story of Noah and the Ark. But, of course, that’s from the Old Testament and as our former Vicar told us a few months ago, “The Old Testament is irrelevant.” 

Let me tell you where the real rainbow comes from:

In Genesis 10: v13 God said:  I do set my bow in the cloud and it shall be for a token or a covenant between me and the earth.

Therefore — Stonewall, Gay Pride, Pink News, Peter Tatchell, Jayne Ozanne et al. – I think it looks as though it is you who appropriated the rainbow for your banners and badges. So stop bleating and let our children put pictures of rainbows anywhere they like.

The Ever-Widening Gap Between Them and Us

I mean, of course, the ever widening gap between them at the top and us at the bottom: specifically, those of us down in the local churches and parishes. There, we try everything we can think of to keep the doors open and the Gospel alive: at the top, the Bench of Bishops seem to be doing any quirky thing they can think of to shut us down and shut us up . . .

Just two examples of what I mean:

At the top, Paul Bayse, Bishop of Liverpool, recently opened the first meeting of MoSAIC. Have you ever heard of it? Nor had I.  The CofE loves initials. LLF – Living in Love and Faith is the current one. I think LLL would be better because there’s little Faith about it. Living in Love and Lust would be more accurate.

Anyway, Bishop Paul Bayse addressed this meeting of MoSAIC a few weeks ago. It’s taken me all this time to work out what he was trying to say and I’ve come to the conclusion it is not good news for simple lay people trying to maintain life and the Gospel in a small parish.

MoSAIC stands for Movement of Supporting Anglicans for an Inclusive Church. Clever, eh? Sadly, “supporting Anglicans” doesn’t seem to include bog standard Christian congregations in most small churches, and I think I can speak for all the other 20 to 30 people in the village church I attend. To support MoSAIC we’d have to stop believing what we’ve been believing all our lives.

Here are just two of the many things that worry me about what Paul Bayes says:

First, obviously, is what the bishop chooses to describe as a “gender neutral marriage canon”. He means, of course, same-sex marriage. Needless-to-say he can give no sound theological arguments to support this. That’s not surprising. Bishops aren’t theologians any more. 

Bayes tells us, plainly, “people grow up and fall in love and their mysterious bodies lead them to love as they love, and they will love whom they love, and no amount of harrumphing is going to change that.”

He’s right. No amount of harrumphing ever changed anything. In affirming the truth of the mystery of love, and loving whom they will love is he including pædophilia and incest, polygamy and child marriage? As a Bishop I think +Liverpool should be much more careful in his use of words. Fortunately we have Jesus in the Gospels to guide us through the mysteries of sexual attractions and support us in the Way of Truth.

Secondly, he quotes, without understanding, something the World Council of Churches said way back in the 1960s. “Let the world set the agenda for the Church of England”.

Which world would that be, Bishop? The world of Sharia Law? The world of dictatorships? The world of tribal and/or religious warfare? Surely, if I remember correctly, St Paul has something to say about this world’s agenda in Romans xii. 2.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

So much for the view from the top.

Meanwhile, down in deepest Dorset, a simple parish priest is in trouble. His Archdeacon is threatening him with a CDM (Clergy Discipline Measure) — something to strike terror into the most innocent of lowly clegy.

The Reverend Charlie Boyle broke three Covid rules in his church in Poole. One, he hugged someone! Two, he sang in church on Easter Sunday. Third, he put Bibles back in the pews.

In the first instance he hugged a woman, not in lust but in sympathy as she grieved at the funeral of a loved one. On Easter Sunday, as he carried the cross down the nave, he sang a verse of the hymn ‘Thine be the glory.’ He didn’t need to wear a mask because he’s an asthmatic and I don’t know anyone who can stand and merely listen to that wonderful hymn to Handel’s ‘conquering hero’ tune. Lastly, after a year in storage, he replaced the Bibles in the pews. It’s a small church, there were only 15 people there and I’m betting that they were all fairly old and had all been double vaccinated. Nevertheless, those Covid laws must be obeyed to the letter.

As far as ‘Them Up There’ are concerned breaking Covid laws is far worse than breaking the laws of God.

An Old Lady says the Lord’s Prayer.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven.”

Well, Lord, it certainly looks like Heaven this morning. Here I am sitting up in bed, lifting my eyes to the hills — and there is nothing to see! Just an impenetrable mist rising up from the valley. That’s what it must have been like, I suppose, in the beginning when Your Spirit moved upon the face of the waters. 

“Hallowed be Thy Name.”

Help me to keep Your name and that of Jesus Christ, in my mind and holy all through this day.

“Thy Kingdom Come.” 

Oh, please, God. Here, in Britain, we seem to be sleepwalking out of your Kingdom and into a weird wokedom where things that I have believed all my life are no longer believed to be the Truth any more.

“Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

Well, I try Lord. I went to church on Sunday. Inside, the building is still festooned with black and yellow tape to make sure we keep our distance, just like a crime scene. And absolutely no singing, although it’s allowed in pubs. Despite everything, I have enough faith in the people of this land not to allow churches to become crime scenes, even though that is happening in some parts of your world. Even here we’ve had the police called in from time to time for Covid infringements. Thankfully, You are always with the persecuted and martyrs and that brings me comfort and hope.

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

You do that God —  at the moment with abundance. My veg patch had a difficult Spring – I could have done without the hailstones that flattened the early peas and beans. On the other hand the flowerbeds are more colourful and scented than I ever remember. Despite Brexit fears we can still buy salads aplenty and punnets of gorgeous strawberries.

“Forgive us our Trespasses.”

You’d think, Father, that after 84 years, my trespasses should be getting fewer. Instead, it seems to be the reverse. I still have all my old faults – anger, irritation, frustration, lack of compassion – and now my long memory reminds me of many sins in the past that I would wish I could forget. Forgetting and regretting is hard, even though I know I am forgiven.

“As we Forgive those that Trespass against us.”

And now we’ve come to my biggest problem. It’s a new problem. In the old days the people who I thought were trespassers against me were normal evil doers; murderers and corrupt politicians. And really not that many. Nowadays, the people who I feel are trespassing against me in legions seem to be mean-spirited tyrants who want to dominate the way I speak; even the very words I may and may not use. 

You gave me a love of words, Lord; you taught me their strength and power and showed me how to use them truthfully and to honour them. Now I am frightened that all this, even Freedom of Speech, is threatened.

Yesterday morning I read in the news about a woman called Milli Hill. She is an “Antenatal Guru”; that seems to mean that she offers online advice and encouragement to pregnant women. During lockdown that must have been an enormous help to many women expecting a baby. She was supported by the charity, Birthright, who have just sacked her. 

Why? Simple. She used the word “women”. 

You know, God, all my life I’ve assumed that all the world’s population was made up of men and women; male and female, as I believe you had created them. Now, suddenly, calling a woman a ‘woman’ is a hate crime. We, women, must become ‘birthing people’ in order not to offend transgender people.

I’m sorry, Lord but just at the moment I am finding it impossible to forgive that charity. And not just that charity but the so-called ‘trolls’ who have condemned Mrs Hill, vilified her and threatened her. For what? She has never written about transgender people and she has never objected to a transgender person being described as a ‘birthing person.’ So, I am raging with anger. I’m truly sorry but there is no way I can repent, at the moment, of my fury at their trespasses against me, against Milli Hill and the millions like me who believe we are women. With Your help I hope that I have calmed down enough to be able to pray for forgiveness by the time I say my evening prayers. So help me, God.

“Lead us not into Temptation, and deliver us from Evil”

This is what my friend, Eileen, keeps saying. She tells me to resist the temptation of reading all these examples of wokedom and getting so worked up. ‘What about the threat to free speech?’ I ask her. ‘Someone has to speak up and fight that evil.’ ‘It doesn’t have to be you,’ she says. ‘Not at your age. Do your knitting and smell the roses.’ 

But speech is powerful and precious and we need to be careful. And if you’ve given me a gift with words, Lord, then, even if I’m old and grey, I feel I still ought to keep on keeping on — praying for compassion as I rant!

“For thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, for ever and ever. Amen” 

A Letter to the Uxbridge Three or Four

Dear Uxbridge Three or Four, 

I am sorry I can’t address you personally but I have not been able to find your names in the reports of the incident which occurred outside Uxbridge Tube Station at 1.35 pm on Friday, 23rd April.  That was when you were caused such “alarm and distress” by homophobic comments that you all felt you had to call the police.

The man who caused you so much upset was a John Sherwood, who is the Pastor of a local church.  Actually, I have to tell you that Mr Sherwood was not breaking the law.  People are allowed to preach in the open air if they wish, even if it tends to upset people.  

Way back in tne the summer of 2018 a London bus driver, called Allan Coote, was stopped from preaching outside St Paul’s Cathedral in London, but on that occasion it was the Dean and Chapter who complained**.

Paster John Sherwood and Mr Allan Coote. Both fomenters of alarm and distress.

At the moment, there is no law in England that prevents a person from quoting from the Bible either.  I gather, from the reports, that Mr Sherwood had been reading from Genesis, Chapter 1 v27:

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female created he them.”

(I’m sorry if this offends you but it is a very short verse.)

I can understand if you find those words truly shocking but you must remember they are words that people have believed for several thousand years.  New, liberal ideas are often hard for people to adopt overnight. 

Here’s another point that may make it easier for you to understand where bigoted homophobes are coming from.  Mr Sherwood and his partner, Mr Peter Simpson, had been preaching about the value of family, and the benefits to children who are brought up in a stable family with committed parents, one of each sex.  They were not lying when they made these statements.  A wide range of independent studies have proved this over many years and so, inevitably, there are hundreds and thousands of people around today who still believe this to be true.

Thanks to you, Mr Sherwood, who is 71, was pulled down from his ‘soapbox’, hand cuffed after some manhandling by three or four police officers, and taken off to the local police station where he was kept overnight.  A file on this ‘hate crime’ has, of course, been passed to the Crown Prosecution Service.  I am sure you will receive many congratulations from Stonewall, Pink News, Jayne Ozanne and many LGBTQUI+ members, who will be encouraged by your brave actions.  However, I think I should also warn you that, with people like Messrs Sherwood and Simpson, you may not have shut them up for good.  Despite the offence and pain they have caused you I suspect that they will go on preaching and quoting from the Holy Bible until the law definitely forbids it. 

I am sure that time may come, and perhaps fairly quickly; then such examples of free speech will be banned.  In fact, I think you can look forward to a time, in the not too distant future, when ‘Woke law’ will have managed to close all Christian churches and “My Truth” rather than “God’s Truth” will be all that matters.  Though, I think I should point out that Muslim congregations will put up a far harder fight than the rather spineless CoE.

Police at the lectern in church for the Good Friday Mass

Until that time comes may I suggest you take some precautions so that you avoid the hurt and misery you suffered in Uxbridge?  For a start, make sure you avoid any people who are standing on ‘soapboxes’.  As well as quoting from the Scriptures they might be telling you there’s no such thing as climate change, for example, or assuring you that you must or must not get vaccinated.  People have such weird ideas these days, and you wouldn’t want to put yourself in danger of hearing anything offensive unawares.  Make sure you are always listening to something on your smart phone so that you can’t hear any conversations going on around you.  Toxic white males and institutional racists are about everywhere, as well, and you can have no idea of the sort of things they might say. 

Perhaps you could be kind enough to pass on this advice to your like-minded friends who get so easily offended and warn them, above all, to steer well clear of St. Paul.

** Blog entitled ‘How (not) to spend £10 million’. August 1st, 2018

Holy Week and Conversions — are they mutually exclusive?

I have suffered for a month from an antibiotic resistant bug.  That, at least gave me plenty of time to ponder on the liberal, woke world in which I now seem to live.  It’s a world I find constantly confusing. I have come to the sobering conclusion that I must be a misfitting, orthodox, traditional, illiberal dinosaur. But I do grow nice flowers.

In an effort to keep up to date I tried to follow a Parliamentary debate; to be exact the LGBT Conversion Therapy debate held in the Boothroyd Room in Portcullis House on Monday 8th of March.  I know what the individual words ‘conversion’ and ‘therapy’ mean. Conversion means changing; from bad to good’, or from ‘not too bad’ to ‘much better’ or from ‘the best I can manage right now’ to ‘something pretty special’.  Therapy means ‘curative medical treatment’ or ‘healing’. But ‘Conversion Therapy’ as a danger needing banishment is harder to understand.

Here we are in the middle of Holy Week and for many of us, church-goers and ‘anti-church but pro-Christ’ Christians, this is the greatest week in the Christian calendar when we read, and pray and hope that Christ’s death and resurrection will give us the healing we need to convert us from sinners, to people trying hard to hope more, worship more, love more and, God-willing, sin less.  Who on earth would want to ban all that.

However, when I got to read the debate for myself – pages and pages of it – I realised this conversion is nothing to do with God.  It is all about Sex; more specifically LGBTQI+ sex. 

Eliot Colburn (Carshalton and Wallington( (Con), who had initiated the debate, began by explaining that the petition is entitled, “Make LGBT conversion therapy illegal in the UK”. 

To clarify exactly what he was talking about, Colburn, MP, said “Conversion Therapy was an umbrella term used to describe interventions of a wide-ranging nature.”  Moreover, it was necessary because of the erroneous, “widespread belief that sexual orientation can and should be changed.”  One and a half minutes into the Debate and I was not happy.  I don’t like umbrella terms when it comes to banning things and I’m not happy with that sweeping generalisation that “sexual orientation can and should be changed.” 

As the debate continued I was impressed by how much a politician can say in a short time!  390 words in two minutes, though very few kept to the 2-3 minute rule.  I had ploughed through many pages before a doubt occurred to me. What does the word ‘debate’ mean in this context?  I was thinking in terms of debating societies in school and college.  Two sides, for and against, with arguments back and forth, claim and counter claim, until the final vote.  These speakers I was reading had not had a debate.  There was only one side, no one put points for the opposition, and many (most) speeches were couched in highly emotive language.  Moreover, the so-called evidence lacked any real science; it was almost all anecdotal.

These two rhododendrons (above and below) have been around so long they’ve lost their labels, and I’ve lost the book in which I recorded their names.

When I read on further I still couldn’t see the need to ban anything.  The anti-gay practices of the past – electric shocks, chemical castration and other actions more reminiscent of Tudor times, have already been outlawed.  This liberal age is all about individuals deciding for themselves what they would like to do.  Would like, not should like.  Put simply, if a man, say, who is sexually attracted to other men, nevertheless decides that he would like to marry a woman and have a natural family, surely he should have to right to have psychotherapy if he wants it and thinks it will help him.

One speaker, Crispin Blunt, (Reigate) (Con) included in his comments the issue of trans people.  “They are by far and away the most vulnerable group among the LGBT community.”  Well I agree completely there, as does the recent report of the Quality Care Commission who rated The Tavistock Clinic worryingly ‘inadequate’. Something else that worries me is the fact that many of the children being treated at the clinic are either on the autistic spectrum or have complex mental health issues. That is worrying.   I would certainly like to ban the horrific conversions available to even quite young children who want to change their gender and their physical genitalia.  Not only can children as young as 12 be given puberty blockers, followed by hormone treatment but, after the age of 16, mutilating surgery is also available.  It’s hardly therapy but it certainly converts a female body to a male body, so why isn’t it banned as well.  What sort of conversion therapy for trans people does Mr Blunt have in mind?

There is just one more conundrum I can’t get my head round.  My daughter was a psychiatrist who specialised in anorexia and psychosis.  She preferred her psychotic patients; they were much more fun and their difficulties sorting out what was real and unreal in their lives encouraged her to look at her own life in new and fascinating ways.  There wasn’t so much laughter on an anorexic ward and you needed masses of patience to sit for an hour persuading a stick thin individual to add just one raspberry to a small pot of yoghurt for lunch.  Anorexia is extremely difficult to treat, let alone cure, and frequently fatal.  Yet never once, even when treating a skeletal creature with a body mass of 10, was she tempted to agree with her that, yes, she did look fat and perhaps it would be a good idea to stop eating.

I pray that, despite the threatened ban on conversions, and freedoms of speech and religion, that you will all* have a spiritually uplifting and holy Easter.

*Paul’s letter to the Galatians 3.v28

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

This shy, humble little periwinkle has been blooming since Christmas!

Moving House

This blog has nothing to do with Lent, beyond showing the amazing possibilities in life if you believe you can. For me, it’s a trip down memory lane. Yesterday I saw this house on the BBC on-line news.

It is a 137 year old house in San Francisco which has been saved from demolition by its enterprising owner. Now it is on its way to a new site! Amazing? Well, yes, but I’ve seen it all before.

In early 1963 I was living in Lexington, Massachusetts which is an old town outside Boston. A very historical town because it’s where “the shot heard round the world” rang out on the morning of 19th April, 1775, heralding the start of the American Revolution. 

On one occasion while we were there I had to drive into Boston to pick up my husband and take him to the airport. A few miles out of the town, breasting (or perhaps chesting) the brow of a hill, I came upon a house in the middle of the road. I don’t mean a caravan or half a mobile home; I mean a whole house, complete with double garage and curtains in the windows! What’s more, after a few startled moments, I realised it was moving. At a snail’s pace it was proceeding down the road in front of me. Finally, the driver of the car behind me, who wasn’t in the state of shock I was in, overtook the house and roared away. With my courage in both hands I followed suit.

The next problem was my husband. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘There was a house in the way!’ As an excuse it sounded pretty feeble. Fortunately, one of his colleagues confirmed that I could be telling the truth.

The Minuteman statue on Lexington’s Battle Green

Lexington is steeped in history, centred on the Battle Green where that fateful and fatal first shot was fired. Around the Green there are elegant pre-revoltion buildings like the Buckman Tavern, the Monroe Tavern and the Harrington House. One summer I acted as a volunteer guide on the green and my description of the young, wounded Jonathan Harrington crawling up the front steps to die in his wife’s arms reduced Californian tourists to tears! That was when I discovered Californian history is so completely different from New England history they could have been two separate countries. 

The Hancok-Clarke House on Hancock Street, Lexington, MA

Many years later I was back in Boston and decided to drive my daughter out to see our old house. From the Green I drove up Hancock Street on my way to Blake Road. This was a road I took almost every day when I lived there and on my right as I drove out of town I would pass another famous house — the Hancock-Clarke house. John Hancock and Samuel Adams, two of the leaders of the militiamen, had been warned to expect trouble. They were taking shelter with the Reverend Clarke in the house that had once been home to John’s grandfather. It is also the house where Paul Revere stopped to give warning of the approach of the Redcoats as he took his famous ride towards Concord. As I drove past this famous piece of history in about 1980 I again came to an abrupt halt. The house was on my left.

‘Why have you stopped?’ asked my daughter. ‘That house,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It says it’s the Lexington Historical Society.’ ‘But it’s on the left! It should be on the right!’ I could see my daughter’s raised eyebrows in the rearview mirror. Clearly mother was beginning to lose it!

Time to phone a friend.

Yes, it was indeed the Hancock-Clarke house. Yes, it had been on the right hand side of Hancock Street as you went up from the town centre. Yes, it had been moved across the road — she thought a few years before; late seventies perhaps. But why? Why on earth would you move an ancient monument from one side of the road to the other?

Early in the last century it had been saved from demolition by being trundled across the road onto a piece of spare land. Seventy years later it had then simply been moved back to where it was when it had sheltered three American heroes: John Hancock, Samuel Adams and Paul Revere.  

Well, why not? Recent news suggests that Stonehenge was originally Welsh. Should we start agitating for the return of our stones? At least that would solve the problem of tunnelling under the A303.

The Dean’s Lent Project

Yesterday, Ash Wednesday, the Dean of Canterbury suggested a Lent Project. He calls us, his video watchers, his Garden Congregation, and his project is as simple and encouraging as everything else about his daily prayers.

The idea behind it is, naturally, taken from his garden. You take a little shoot and transplant it and care for it and it will root and sprout and become a plant in its own right. And don’t complain that you don’t even have a window box. The leaf off a jade tree or a leaf of aloe vera put in a jar of water will do just as well. In any case, that was just an illustration of the sort of creativity the Dean is thinking of.

First of all find a little notebook and down the left hand side of the page number the days of Lent. 46 days. 40 and 6 Sundays. Each day write down a word, an image, an idea, a person — something that’s on your mind. Now, do something creative with that word or phrase or whatever.

Simple!

Yes, it really is. You can use the talents you already have or find something to do that you didn’t know you could do. Thinking of a friend? Sit down and write to them on paper with a pen and POST it. When did you last get a cheering letter out of the blue through your letter box?  Write a poem. No, not something overwhelming like Milton’s Paradise Lost. A nursery rhyme, for example. After all, ‘Ring a ring of roses’ was thought to have been inspired by the Great Plague!

Painting? Well, drawing, then; that only needs a pencil and some paper. Nothing to see out of your window? Don’t make excuses — think Lowry and his stick men and women.

L S Lowry

You never know when some little thing will gain great importance.

My husband died just before Christmas and I have been amazed and heartened by the letters and messages of sympathy and condolence I have received. In this context one letter in particular stands out. At least 45 years ago Grete, the daughter of a colleague, needed a home for a few days and stayed with us. In her letter she remembered my husband’s kindness and then she said:

 “I must thank you for saving my life in lockdown. While I was staying with your family you taught me to crochet.”

That was certainly some shoot!

Yesterday, the Dean read Psalm 87 and verse 3. “Glorious things of thee are spoken, O city of God.” Talking of his project he quoted the last few words of that psalm. “All my fresh springs are in you.”

Now’s the chance for all of us to find some fresh springs. 

Department of Gobbledegook and Obfuscation

I don’t know exactly where the DOGO is situated — perhaps in the depths of Whitehall or even, these days, on a windblown island in the Outer Hebrides. No, that’s not likely. People who live up there are tough, down-to-earth, realistic and clear sighted.

The Outer Hebrides where people call a spade a spade

However, even though I don’t know where that Department actually is I know it exists. 

Here is the proof:

“We also recognise that there is currently biological essentialism and transphobia present within elements of mainstream birth narratives and discourse. We strive to protect our trans and non-binary service users and healthcare professionals from additional persecution as a consequence of terminology changes, recognising the significant impact this can have on psychological and emotional wellbeing.”

Policy statement of the Brighton and Sussex University Hospitals NHS Trust.

One sentence of a mere 35 words made to seem much more erudite by all those wonderful polysyllabics.

Surely this lilting prose must come from the same stable as that other Load of Lovely Flannel (Living in Love and Faith) from the Church of England that I wrote about a couple of weeks ago.

“Secure in its roots, the Christian understanding of marriage has been sufficiently supple to respond to changing cultures, and suitably rich in meaning to all God’s gift to be received in different ages even if its purposes have been lived out with great clarity at some times more than others.”

One clear link between the NHS and the C of E is the Bishop of London, Rt. Revd Sarah Mullally, who was Head Nurse before ordination and is the lead bishop on the Living in Love and Faith production.

essentialism* — [uhsen-shuh-liz-uhm]

*a doctrine that certain traditional concepts, ideals, and skills are essential to society and should be taught methodically to all students, regardless of individual ability, need, etc. (My emphasis.) In other words even if you are never going to be in a situation where you will ever have anything to do with a transgender pregnant parent you’ve still got to be taught what vocabulary to use.

I’ve put this definition in for the sake of any readers who are as old as I am and for whom the word doesn’t roll as smoothly off the tongue as I’m sure it should. It isn’t in my SOD (Shorter Oxford Dictionary) but that dates back to 1970. How quaint! 

I’ll try and translate what I think the NHS means with their statement. 

At the moment there’s a skill shortage in Maternity Units — sorry, perinatal services. The midwives (that term will have to go) and nurses who are there are superb at delivering babies but their language leaves much to be desired. 

“Now, Mother. Are you going to be breast feeding?”

Heaven forbid. Using that language is downright persecution.

“Now, parent. Are you planning to chest feed?” will be quite acceptable. 

Mother, father, sister, brother — those words will all be banned, too. Parent and sibling will do. I don’t know how you cope with uncle and aunt. 

Devil’s Dyke in Sussex. Expect this to be renamed sometime soon.

We are in the midst of a global pandemic like never before. Hospitals and all the staff in them are stretched to the limit. Money is tight. Now is not the time to engage the services of exponents of any sort of alternative language. Now is not the time to start talking about psychological persecution — ridiculously emotive language — as the result of terminological changes. How much did all this New Speak cost? How many ‘pregnant’ (probably a banned word) transgender and non-binary people are we talking about in, say, a year? Surely, all that’s needed, in those rare circumstances, is for someone to forewarn the midwife/midperson involved to watch what they say. After all, workers in midwifery units are well educated and highly trained. If they spot that the human being in the delivery room is sporting a beard they’ll catch on quickly enough that the situation will need careful handling.

Simpler, Humbler, Bolder

Taken from an advert for Premier Chrisian Radio, February 3rd 2021

The Most Reverend Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury was on Premier Christian Radio today.  During the interview he announced his new Jesus-shaped vision for the church in 2021.  (I presume he was talking about the Church of England.)  In the light of all he has learned since the start of the pandemic he has come up with the slogan “Simpler, Humbler, Bolder.”

Thank God for that, say I!  It’s been a long time coming but simplicity, humility and boldness in the Anglican church will be warmly welcomed by many, if not most congregations

I will particularly welcome simplicity for a start because I have just been struggling with some more of the “Living in Love and Faith” document, produced by an assortment of bishops and others.  When it came out at the beginning of November last year I tried to read the summary and then wrote an unpublished blog called ‘Loads and loads of flannel’.  That tells you what I thought of it at the time. 

Recently, being housebound, I have been making another attempt to get to grips with ‘Living in Love and Faith.’ That is until I got to the following sentence:

“Secure in its roots, the Christian understanding of marriage has been sufficiently supple to respond to changing cultures, and suitably rich in meaning to allow God’s gift to be received in different ages, even if its purposes have been lived out with greater clarity at some times more than others.”

Apart from being 50 words long it’s also overloaded with too many polysyllabic words.  You don’t find many 50 word sentences in the Gospels. I would suggest the Archbishop begins, immediately (eufous), re-reading St Mark.

I’m still not quite sure what, exactly, the writers were trying to say.  Perhaps that was the whole point.  In fact, I think the whole of ‘LLF’ is a skilful mixture of gobbledegook and flannel, continuing the softening-up process until we all accept Same Sex Marriage as part of God’s new plan.

At least the six bishops in the Church in Wales, always ready to jump on any passing band wagon, seem to have taken up two bits of Justin Welby’s slogan even before he announced it. In the past I have often found them too lily-livered, slightly pompous and skilled in the art of obfuscation. Just before Christmas, simply and boldly they announced: A Bill to Authorise Experimental Use of Proposed Revisions of the Book of Common Prayer.

Headline from the Church Times

They blithely acknowledge that Scripture and Christian tradition have previously believed marriage to be between a man and a woman. 

“However,” they say, “with new social, scientific and psychological understandings of sexuality in the last one and a half centuries, we believe that same-sex relationships can be understood in a radically different way, and that the teaching of Scripture should therefore be re-interrogated.”

On second thoughts, with a sentence of 42 words, nine of which have three or more syllables, perhaps they are not expressing themselves as simply as all that. It is a bold sentence at any rate.

I’d welcome humble, too.  As many readers of my blog will know I am opposed to Same Sex marriage in church.  I’m afraid to say I have met with no humility on that subject.  Far from finding “good disagreement” the LGBT+ Chaplain of this diocese takes the attitude ‘like it or lump it.’  Regretfully, I have had to lump it because no one even wants to engage in any sort of discussion with me; nor wish to find out why I think the way I do.

Lastly, Bolder.  Oh, please!  At least allow the bold ones amongst us to go into Church during Lent to pray (behind masks) and praise (internally) and meditate together if we promise to sanitise our hands and stay two metres apart.  Well, distancing won’t be difficult, given the size of our church and the tiny number in the congregation.

Since some cathedrals have been open for vaccinations, complete with organ recitals, there shouldn’t be any reason to prevent spiritual vaccination as well.  I, for one, definitely benefit from a god-shot occasionally.

At last, Justin Welby has spoken out in praise of the wonderful Dean of Canterbury. Dr Robert Willis now has 40,000 tuning in to his on-line services of Morning Prayer, which he has been holding in his garden every single morning since lockdown began. 

I hope his Grace watches the programme; he’d learn a lot. However, he made one mistake.  He mentions the Dean’s cats and other animals who “kept on making un-invited appearances.”  Nonsense.  The cats all come and go as they please — they are in their own home, after all.  Tiger, the three legged cat (he lost a leg to cancer a few months ago) is the only cat especially invited by the Dean to accompany him when he takes shelter from the rain in a greenhouse.  All the other birds and animals are invited in and often given breakfast. 

You have to be pretty bold to preach in front of a congregation like this!

Most actors will tell you never to work with children or animals.  There’s certainly no room for pomposity or arrogance when you’re surrounded by Winston, Clemmie and their seven little pigs.  It was an incredibly bold idea to think of sitting in a garden, surrounded by a menagerie, and simply preach the Gospel, straight to camera with barely a note.  His message is delivered with simplicity.  And the Dean, no mean musician and hymn writer himself, frequently emphasises the joy of simple songs and poems.  Gospel stories and psalms, translated into simple songs and poems, are easy to learn by heart and remain forever in your memory. The amount of interesting information the Dean slips in is impressive. He was the one who taught me (and I bet many others) the word eufous and thanks to him I now know the correct way to pronounce ‘pericope’. (I’d been saying perry-cope.)

Simpler, humbler, bolder.  Yes, Archbishop.  We’re with you, and the dear Dean, every step of the way.

Keep Your Feet on The Ground.

As we pray for the end of lockdown and a great re-awakening we need to prepare, now. We — that is Church congregations everywhere — must use this Lockdown to PREPARE. Prepare for the time when we can get outside again and all meet again.

Church Today — Courtesy of the Spectator


We need to be ready, knowing what we need to do. Not like the bishops who, last March, announced the closure of all their churches, at the same time re-assuring us that the clergy could hold services “on-line”, from their own homes, which would be ‘just as good’. They were wrong. The Easter Eucharist from Archbishop Justin Welby’s kitchen was not ‘just as good’ and he would have had plenty of technological assistance. Most clergy have done a magnificent job providing services, on line, on Zoom, on the phone, learning hi-tech as they muddled through. 

Later, when the churches were allowed to open again, the bishops issued pages of rules and regulations and protocols to ensure that you would be far safer in a church than in any train station or supermarket. Again the clergy coped, with very little in the way of help and guidance. Perhaps there might have been a bishop somewhere who ordered all the sanitizers and cleaning products and safety tapes all the churches would need and went round delivering everything to the individual clergy, and checking how they were getting on. Sadly, I suspect that hope is pie in the sky.

What we have to do now is keep our feet on the ground. 

That’s what Our Lord did, literally. He kept his feet on the earth as he walked through the Gospels, day after day, apart from when he walked on water. He was down to earth at our level until the final day, when he was lifted up on the Cross.


There is probably a PhD thesis somewhere that could tell us how many miles Jesus walked in the Gospels. There may be someone who could even tell us how many pairs of sandals He wore out. He walked from village to village and town to town talking to everyone he met. When he wanted to be alone to pray and think he walked up a mountain.

Bishops tend not to think down to earth. They prefer Big and Expensive. The Bishop of St. Asaph spent £2 million — two million pounds — a few years ago, to buy the old Dorothy Perkins store in Wrexham. The building is on Hope Street so it’s now called the Hope Centre. Clever, eh? Not so clever when you think about the six Anglican churches already in Wrexham and what their clergy could have achieved with a cool two million.


Let’s come down out of the episcopal clouds and concentrate on where to walk on earth.

Llyn Crefnant in the Carneddau Range, Snowdownia National Park


When Lockdown began a priest here in North Wales went up into the mountains to pray by a lake. Wonderful, until they closed Snowdonia National Park.  Then there’s Reverend Pat Allerton of St Peter’s Church, Notting Hill, labelled the ‘Portable Priest’. His parishioners couldn’t come to him so he took services around his parish. A hymn, a prayer and a mini sermon in 10 minutes at any convenient street corner. Perhaps the fact that he is an old Etonian gave him the confidence to thumb his nose at his bishop. He admitted to feelings of trepidation as he set off the first day. But guess what? People loved him; no one complained, no one was offended. He was even asked for an encore.

Reverend Pat Allerton – the Portable Priest

Surely that’s something lots of local clergy could do. If the bishops don’t want us in our churches so be it. There’s no law against street preaching so as soon as we’re allowed out on the streets again let’s get out there. The bishops have explained that we don’t need churches. God is everywhere. They are half right. But congregations that work hard all week running food banks, feeding people and other volunteer projects do need their churches on a Sunday. They do need to recharge their batteries and refuel their tanks to give them the spiritual strength to carry on. And those vital services can be held on the village green or in the town square or in a supermarket carpark.

Father Jonathan Beswick SSC is Rector of another St Peter’s Church, this one in London Docks. Writing in the Spectator on 16th January he has plenty of reasons why he is actually keeping his church open at the moment. Last Spring he set up an outdoor shrine and held services during daily exercise. He also rang his church bell which was much appreciated. I’m encouraged to think he would agree with me. In his article he says, “God did not reside on Mount Sinai reissuing successive tablets of stone. Rather, he got stuck into the mess and mortality that is the lot of the human race.” 

Absolutely right. The same mess we should be walking through, with our feet firmly on the ground.