When you bury a Parson you always bury him re-incumbent - the opposite way to everybody else. Everybody lies with their feet to the east so that when they rise they face the Lord. But a Parson, you see, you bury him with his feet to the west, so that when he rises he faces his flock. And serve him right, I say.
Just finished Akenfield, which was published in 1967, chronicling a rural way of life that was passing, and is now long gone. It has been fascinating (and blows a hole in the rural idyll of yesteryear, big-time) , but especially the last chapter about the village gravedigger. Here's one section:
The clergy don't stick to religion as we knew it. They do things that are forbidden. They are pulling the Bible to pieces. Altering, altering...I said to the Bishop, 'What do you think of Parsons, my Lord?' He said 'What do you?' I said, 'Well, they don't preach hellfire. They used to, why don't they now?'
He said, 'What, are you blaming the Parsons?' 'Certainly,' I said. 'All these Parsons preach is the love of God. But they leave out the wrath. What is the use of love without wrath? Tell me that,' I said, 'You are told what will happen if you obey His will, so it is only fair that you should know what will happen to you if you don't.'
People aren't frightened any more, that is the trouble. If they had to do my work they would know that life is a frightening business.
Wiliam Russ, gravedigger, Akenfield by Rinald Blythe, p327
Sorry, yet another Lewis book, and the second of the SF Trilogy.
Sometimes published as Voyage to Venus, Professor Ransom returns in another space travel, spiritual adventure. This time, at the request of the supernatural being met in the previous book, he is asked to travel to Venus (still assumed not to be, at this point of history, utterly uninhabitable).
He finds an ocean world, where life takes place on large, flexible floating islands made of some kind of matted vegetation (if I remember rightly, I read it over 20 years ago!). Dwelling on the islands is the queen of Venus, a human being newly created by God, and somewhere around, the King as well - though we don't see so much of him. They are living in innocence and will continue to do so as long as they never spend a night on the one point of fixed land on the planet (see where it's all going?). But soon Ransom finds they are not alone, when a figure from his past also arrives, and he has not been sent by the forces of good...
Another great read from Lewis (really, he is a brilliant writer) this book marked another introduction to me into theological thinking. Rather than sledgehammering Christian themes into a conventional story (as so many "Christian novels" do), the story and the theology are woven seamlessly and neither works without the other. What did I, in my formative years, find injected into my thinking from this book, probably subconsciously? The first inkling (ho,ho) of how the Fall 'works', and why, by implication, biting a fruit from a tree is not a silly mythological idea; the idea of indwelling - that Christ (and satan) can be present in people; the sense of preFall innocence, and how being caught up in the wonder of God might fill up all one's capacities to overflowing.
The picture at the top of the page is the cover on the edition I now own (I read it originally in an old Pan Books 70's paperback) - I accidentally (don't ask) ended up buying a hardback first edition for just a few pounds. So the next time I read the trilogy, I will be reading book 2 in exactly the same format that The Bodley Head would have sent Lewis on publication! I might buy a pipe for the occasion...
For many years I've struggled with the modern notion that art which is truly grown up has to include lots of rude words, swearing and general profanity. These days almost nothing can be taken seriously without wall to wall profanity (how did Dickens manage?) I've often been put in my place by people telling me that it reflects real life, shows artistic integrity and bravery. Which is strange cos when I was little we were told it was childish.
Anyway, my wife (of all people!) put me onto the fact that Flanders & Swann had already noticed this over 50 years ago, when such artistic freedom and wonderment was just starting to become trendy, and sang a jolly nice song that (I think) puts it in the right perspective.
And below are the words, so you can sing along (actually, don't sing along, just read, or you will become an artistic person of integrity by accident).
Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers
By Flanders and Swann
Ma's out, Pa's out, Let's talk rude! Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers. Dance round the garden in the nude, Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers. Let's write rude words all down our street, Stick out our tongues at the people we meet, Let's have an intellectual treat for Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers.
Sunday again on CBC, Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers. And Norman Mailer's coming to tea, Pee Po Belly Bum Pants! Alan Ginsberg reads on and on, But we're having a happening when he's gone, Come to the party in the John, Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers.
Disney's planning a double bill, Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers. Christopher Robin meets Fanny Hill, Pooh Bear Belly Bum Drawers. On stage and screen we all work hard, Throwing toilet rolls in our own backyard, Who's afraid of the avent garde? Pee, Pee, Po, Po, Belly, Belly, Bum, Bum, Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers.
What gets prizes and wins awards? Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers. What did prince Phillip tell the Lords? Well, never mind that. At Oxford and Cambridge, and Yale and all, At Berkely, they really have a ball, 'cos the higher the brow, the harder they fall, Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers.
I would go as far to say that, over time, the number of visitors in our church services is directly proportionate to the level of enthusiasm felt by those who regularly attend.
...I’ve never been an atheist. Atheism is an active faith; it says, “I believe there is no God.” But I don’t know what I believe. I was brought up a Lutheran in Jamestown, North Dakota. I have trouble with faith. I’m not proud of this. I don’t think it makes me an intellectual. I would believe if I could, and I may be able to before it’s over. I would welcome that.
God could be exceedingly rich in temporal wealth, if he so pleased, but he will not. If he would but come to the pope, the emperor, a king, a prince, a bishop, a rich merchant, a citizen, a farmer, and say: Unless you give me a hundred thousand crowns, you shall die on the spot; every one would say: I will give it, with all my heart, if I may but live. But now we are such unthankful slovens, that we give him not so much as a Deo gratias, though we receive of him, to rich overflowing, such great benefits, merely out of his goodness and mercy. Is not this a shame? Yet, notwithstanding such unthankfulness, our Lord God and merciful Father suffers not himself to be scared away, but continually shows us all manner of goodness. If in his gifts and benefits he were more sparing and close-handed, we should learn to be thankful. If he caused every human creature to be born with but one leg or foot, and seven years afterwards gave him the other; or in the fourteenth year gave one hand, and afterwards, in the twentieth year, the other, then we should better acknowledge God’s gifts and benefits, and value them at a higher rate, and be thankful. He has given unto us a whole sea-full of his Word, all manner of languages, and liberal arts. We buy at this time, cheaply, all manner of good books. He gives us learned people, that teach well and regularly, so that a youth, if he be not altogether a dunce, may learn more in one year now, than formerly in many years. Arts are now so cheap, that almost they go about begging for bread; woe be to us that we are so lazy, improvident, negligent, and unthankful.
Great wealth and money cannot still hunger, but rather occasion more dearth; for where rich people are, things are always dear. Moreover, money makes no man right merry, but rather much pensive and full of sorrow; for riches, says Christ, are thorns that prick people. Yet is the world so mad that it sets therein all its joy and felicity.
I think there is so much to say about this man, that I will say very little instead, as I need to go to bed at some point. Why would I take this to my island?
Firstly, he was a genius. His use of imagery, rhyme, rhyme-schemes, the shape of the poem itself, interweave like a complex dance. On first reading I find I understand little of what is going on - it's just a load of words, communicating little. But repeated readings reveal a depth of exploration of a subject and expression of its heart that is stunning. The sense of what he is saying is not simply stated in the lines of verse; it's in the words chosen, the structure, the way phrases resonate, and in the poem as a whole.
Second, he understands the frailty of the human heart, the grace and strength of God, the source of life. He never downplays the mysteries of providence, the unanswerable questions; but he always finds refuge in repentance and grace.
If you want some examples, then just click on Herbert in the tags.
The Everyman edition, as well as being the usual high quality hardback at barely more than the price of a paperback, also contains (and as yet I have not read these parts) Herbert's collection of proverbs, his advice to clergy and Izaac Walton's biographical sketch.
Herbert was really the doorway for me in appreciating poetry; but not simply a door to other things. His genius is such that he is, for me, warp and woof of true poetry,.
My favourite Narnia book is either The Silver Chair or this one. The reason Dawn Treader is on the list, is not that it is the better book necessarily (in fact it's quite episodic and not quite so unified as Silver Chair) but the atmosphere, sense of voyage adventure, and sheer numbers of ideas that fill its pages. Oodles of characters help offset the loss of Peter & Susan, and the images echoing aspects of the Christian life and faith abound.
And especially it is the feeling of light that pervades the book, as the ship draws closer to the mysterious edge, and Reepicheep's desires mirror the person caught up in the pursuit of God and heaven. If The Lion, the Witch &the Wardrobe helped many to grasp the idea of substitutionary atonement and let it settle in their subconcscious until they heard the gospel, then Dawn Treader engraved a sense of the comfort-terror of the pursuit of heaven, of the longing for joy, onto mine.
Plus, using my 'stuck on a desert island' criterion, what book could be better?!
Whilst reading Calvin on baptism, he makes an interesting argument as to why re-baptism is wrong. Now, what I want to know is - is this his sense of humour coming through? Or has his teaching that baptism has continuity with circumcision, blinded him to a certain...well...ahem...biological fact? His reasoning is: we do not baptise a second time because OT Jews, even if originally processed by an unfaithful priest, were never required by God to later undergo a second or re-circumcision...
A minister in the UK who prefers to remain anonymous, in case one of his posts becomes a rant and he lives to regret it. Also known, at least once, as Bernard Dweeb.
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