A song from the Anglican renewal movement of the 70s and 80s. I found the music languishing in a dusty pile in the basement and thought I’d resuscitate it.
St. Hilda’s will be singing it and some other songs, along with Biblical teaching and liturgical worship here on Sunday morning at 10:30 EDT. Please join us, if you care to.
If, on the other hand, this leaves you cringing in horror, whatever you do, don’t click on the above link.
I only have one question: Why is there an asterisk attached to “Trans”? Is it a wildcard that permits any other combination of letters? Like Transistor?
I know, I’ll attend this, it will explain everything:
Now I get it. Creating labels and terminology modifies reality: pronoun selection bends the universe to ney/nem’s will. I was right, a Trans* person really could be a Transistor.
Why has no one thought of this before? It’s so convenient.
A song I wrote a few years ago
Julian Bream was one of the most brilliant guitarists of the 20th Century.
I saw him live in Cardiff in the 70’s. Seeing him in person was even more engaging and enjoyable than this beautiful performance:
From the BBC:
Classical guitarist and lute player Julian Bream has died at his home in Wiltshire at the age of 87.
The virtuoso musician performed globally during his heyday, and was renowned for his recordings of new compositions and masterclasses.
He won four Grammy Awards and received 20 nominations between 1960 and 85.
A self-taught musician, Bream learned playing to radio dance bands with the lute his father bought from a sailor on London’s Charing Cross Road in 1947.
As a child prodigy, his early recitals led to him being “acknowledged as one of the most remarkable artists of the post-war era”, according to the Royal Academy of Music.
On the Anglican Church of Canada’s website you will find a link to a “Gong Meditation, Tibetan Singing Bowls” workshop, the ideal pastime for Anglicans who have had enough of Jesus and want to try the occult instead.
It’s booking up fast, so ACoC bishops: get your tickets now before it’s too late!
From here:
Wed Aug 19, 2020
7:00 pm – 8:30 pm
Gong Meditation, Tibetan Singing Bowls
Sound frequencies emitted from Tibetan Singing Bowls and Gong influence our body’s energy centres (chakras) as well as our brainwave patterns; the special vibration of these instruments can help your brain shift gears, which ultimately facilitates harmony, intuitive insight and a general sense of well-being.
Enjoy an evening meditation class led by Ben, where he will discuss the history of Tibetan Singing Bowls and Gongs, and guide you through a wonderful 70-minute meditation, leaving you in a state of inner peace.
All you need to enjoy this experience is to bring your own yoga mat.
To find out more about Ben visit https://www.facebook.com/innerattainment/
Ben’s classes are sell-outs, so preregistration is highly advised.
Price: $25 plus service fee and taxes
In my teens I had a friend who was convinced that you could cure warts by rubbing them with a hazel branch and burying the branch in the garden. On a full moon. He swore by the remedy, pointing to his wart free hands as evidence.
Superstitions used to be, if not entirely plausible, at least romantically entertaining. Even if medieval alchemists never managed to find the philosophers’ stone and turn mercury into gold, at least it was believable enough to start JK Rowling on the path to becoming a billionairess. In a way, it worked.
21st Century superstitions are much sillier and less believable. Some people think you can turn a man into a woman. Even scientists – some of them – promote this, making science much sillier and less believable. For example:
Last month, the Rev. Junia Joplin told her Baptist congregation in a sermon about the importance of telling the truth without fear of the consequences. And then she revealed a secret truth of her own: She is a transgender woman.
It cost her the job.
On Monday, 111 members of the Lorne Park Baptist Church in Mississauga, Ontario, voted 58 to 53 to fire Ms. Joplin, who has been their pastor for six years, she said on Twitter.
“I came out as transgender in June, and I got fired in July,” Ms. Joplin said in an interview on Thursday. “But there are a lot of good people in that congregation who made their allyship known, and in some cases stuck their neck out, and it is frustrating this is the way it came out.”
I’m not sure what the theology is behind this. Is the First Responder God the Father, making the Second and Third Responders God the Son and God the Holy Ghost, a pious, spiritual rendering of police, fire and ambulance?
It’s just as well it’s not October or we would be seeing prayers to the Great Pumpkin.
James Innell Packer died on Friday, July 17, at age 93.
I first met J. I. Packer in the late 1970’s. He had come to speak at a church local to me, and I went to hear what he had say. I was a new Christian and had just read Knowing God so I joined the queue to meet him and have him sign my book.
The person in front of me made the silly mistake of disagreeing with something Packer had said, so I was treated to the pleasure of a five-minute demolishing of the person’s point. When my turn came, I decided not to disagree with anything. But I had questions. Lots of questions.
Happily for me (not necessarily for Packer), I was seated next to him at lunch so I plied him with my questions. The two answers that stayed with me were to: “why should I stick with the Anglican Church since it is gurgling its way down the toilet?” and “what exactly is the Bible?” (I was new to all this, remember).
The first answer was along the lines of, yes, the Anglican Communion may be on its way to ruin but what can you do personally to contribute to your parish to try and make it better. The second was: The Bible is God’s propositional revelation to man. Both answers appealed to me at the time – and still do. Funnily enough, 30 years later when I met him at an ANiC synod and reminded him of the second answer, he looked at me and said: “hmm, I’m not sure I would put it quite like that now”.
A great honour to have met him and a great loss for the church.
There is a very good article about J. I. Packer in Christianity Today. Read it all here:
James Innell Packer, better known to many as J. I. Packer, was one of the most famous and influential evangelical leaders of our time. He died Friday, July 17, at age 93.
I. Packer was born in a village outside of Gloucester, England, on July 22, 1926. He came from humble stock, being born into a family that he called lower middle class. The religious climate at home and church was that of nominal Anglicanism rather than evangelical belief in Christ as Savior (something that Packer was not taught in his home church).Packer’s life-changing childhood experience came at the age of seven when he was chased out of the schoolyard by a bully onto the busy London Road in Gloucester, where he was struck by a bread van and sustained a serious head injury. He carried a visible dent in the side of his head for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, Packer was uncomplaining and accepting of what providence brought into his life from childhood on.
Much more important than Packer’s accident was his conversion to Christ, which happened within two weeks of his matriculation as an undergraduate at Oxford University. Packer committed his life to Christ on October 22, 1944, while attending an evangelistic service sponsored by the campus InterVarsity chapter.
Although Packer was a serious student pursuing a classics degree, the heartbeat of his life at Oxford was spiritual. It was at Oxford that Packer first heard lectures from C. S. Lewis, and though they were never personally acquainted, Lewis would exert a powerful influence on Packer’s life and work. When Packer left Oxford with his doctorate on Richard Baxter in 1952, he did not immediately begin his academic career but spent a three-year term as a parish minister in suburban Birmingham.
A song I wrote a few years ago that will appear in St. Hilda’s online worship on Sunday.
Jane Alexander, bishop of Edmonton, is just like Donald Trump: she likes to tweet. Her tweets don’t usually make that much sense, but they do have one redeeming feature: they make Trump sound like Socrates.
Here is a recent one:
Do all that but, whatever you do, don’t mention Jesus. Or salvation. Or our need of it. Or the Cross. Or the atonement. Or the Resurrection. Or the Holy Spirit. In fact, it’s best just to leave Christianity out of this altogether.
