High Church

A common query from brethren when they enquire about my life is whether I am doing anything about collective worship. It’s a double-edged question, as it both unthinkable for them to refrain from that and to accept any other communal worship than their own. Normally I don’t give a straight answer, as I think it isn’t any of their business (but I’m too polite to say so). Actually, I have thought it would be too weird and unsettling to do anything of the kind.
 
However, opportunity and inclination combined this last weekend. And, starting at the top, I “went to church” in the Chapel Royal at Hampton Court Palace. It was very different.
 
For a start, the setting is such that you would have to pay to get in if there wasn’t a service on. It’s grand, highly decorated, and has the air of a museum as much as a church. I should imagine there would always be plenty to look at if there was a boring sermon going on. Frescos, carvings, a vaulted and painted ceiling, candle-holders, stained glass … anything except people, most of the time, as the pews are more like boxes and from a sitting position you can only see the tops of other people’s heads, if that. It’s a bit like a virtual reality simulation, in which you’re surrounded by the sights and sounds of worship without feeling part of something particularly personal. Fortunately there was a personal touch in the elderly gentleman sitting next to us, who kindly helped out by indicating the right places to stand and sit and where to look in the books provided – a hymnal, traditional version of the Book of Common Prayer, and a booklet of services for the month of November.
 
What really surprised me, though, was the extent of the musical component.
 
There was a little bit of speech, and a tiny amount of that was unscripted. The remainder of the speaking was either scripture or set texts. By far the bulk of the service was singing, though, and the singing was, for want of a better word, antique. But extraordinary. Even sections which had no music were declaimed in a kind of chant. It was one of few days in the year (apparently) where there were women in the choir, as the boys had a day off, and the whole lot were fervent and professional. Actually, if I’m honest, the music rather detracted from the spiritual aspect, purely because it was very difficult to follow the words without reading along, and even then there was a lot of classical-music license with repetition and odd phrasing. Lack of understanding doesn’t boost fervency, at least for me. As a concert, though, it would have been worth quite a lot in spite of being free. It was first-class music, performed beautifully.
 
And the spiritual aspect? Mixed, I'd say. It was probably an unfair test for me, as everything was so new and dramatically different that it would have needed an angel's trump to draw my attention to the religion specifically. I was too involved just taking everything in.

But there were a couple of things that occurred to me. The first was that it was surprisingly touching to hear familiar pieces of biblical text read aloud. They are firmly embedded in my head and, reasonably or not, I love some of those texts. I don't think you need to be religious to believe that parts of the Bible are very wise and great literature to boot, and having been brought up on something not too far different to the KJV, I was quite moved by hearing them.

The second was that there is another side to the old brethren dismissal of organised religion, saying that prepared texts and routine is not real worship. I still have some sympathy for that view, as something in me thinks less of a service without real participation or spontaneity. However, I could see that there is a certain benefit to knowing in advance what will be said, and the points that will be emphasised, and the words that will be sung. What is lost in immediacy can be gained in depth if the congregation can avoid the temptation to sit back and let it wash over them. It could be said to be more humble to accept that somebody in the past has said something better than we can say it at the time, and by repeating and considering those words, we take something from them that is more than we can find within ourselves.

Having said all that, our helpful companion and his wife were really there for the music, and I suspect not many of those present were really wishing for any kind of transcendental experience. And nor was I, exactly, as my religious inclinations remain private these days. But I enjoyed what there was, as did the new acquaintance we took along who is a Polish Catholic far from his family and needing companionship. He normally attends a Catholic church, and I was surprised to hear from him that there was more pomp, ritual and music on this occasion than he was used to, either, by far. Interesting.

It all made an interesting contrast to the night before, too, when we went to a staging of the musical Sweeney Todd in which a friend was performing. That was great for an amateur production. And which event would the brethren worry about more, I wonder? I'm honestly not sure.

Clubbing

Last night I found myself in a fairly dense ring of people, average age about sixty, around a naked fat man taking up a variety of poses from Bacchus to Sumo. Anyone unable to guess what that was all about can relax - it was a life-drawing session.

For a while after leaving behind virtually my entire set of acquaintances it felt like a relief to cut down on their numbers. Just recently, though, I have been gradually realising that it is a good idea to mix with society a bit so as to broaden my outlook and add variety to my relationships. I seem to have met most of my friends by one or other of very few ways so far.

So after a few weeks delving, I found an art club which actually meets at a time when I can go - most of them seem focused on retirees, and meet during weekdays, but this one has its winter meetings at 7pm on Tuesdays.

Why art? Well, I enjoy drawing and painting, and I have plenty of scope for improvement. Also, it offers the most scope for complete freshness as, with one important exception, it isn't an activity I share with any of my current friends. On the downside, I'm not really sure I have time for another commitment (thinking of my last post and pondering whether I can add education to the list as well!). If it was only the art, I'd be happy plodding along solo, but joining a club of SOME kind feels like a good thing to do.

So I turned up to try the idea out last night, with mixed results.

The first thing that amused me was that it took quite a lot of determination just to get up and out of the house to get somewhere for seven in the evening. Normally, once I'm home, I'm settled. But only eighteen months ago, that was a way of life every weekday! However did I manage it?

Also on the negative side is that I haven't improved much at meeting and mixing. I suspect I give the impression of being quite laid-back, but I stress and dither and wander around feeling like a spare part. In actual fact, I was uncomfortable enough that my drawing wasn't up to much either, which kind of spoiled the point of going. Probably I should give myself a chance to get better, though, and it does prove that I need the practice at being part of a group.

It's a pleasant group, anyway. As expected, it's heavy on old folk (nothing wrong with that, of course) but not so much I feel really out of place, and if I was the youngest there then it probably wasn't by much. And I was fairly firmly in the middle of the ability spectrum, so that could have been worse. And it can never be bad to get on good terms with a selection of well-to-do people from an upmarket commuter town.

Degree of confusion

I am wrestling again with a problem that keeps recurring: what to do about my education. Apologies if this is getting boring. The same old arguments go round and round my head, and every now and then I need to let them out.

The starting point is that my work experience significantly outruns my paper qualifications, which means that I don't even measure up to the point where I would be considered for anything similar to my current job in any other company. That means that, if I lose my job or resign, I have the following options:

1. Work for myself.
2. Take a pay cut and a less fulfilling job (probably).
3. Get a qualification.
4. Go on benefits.
5. Lie to prospective employers.

Somewhere between options one and two is the possibility of a more open-minded company, probably a small one, who want a self-starter with experience and don't much care about education, but as a few months of looking have failed to turn up such a company and the employment market is tightening, I am discounting it for now. Options four and five are out, at least as deliberate courses of action. Agreed, I could say I had a degree just so as to get onto a shortlist, but I think the untruth would count against me at that point, whatever other star qualities I might show to make up for the lack.

That being the case, option one has looked the most likely for some while now, and remains where my effort is directed. But should I hedge my bets by redirecting a proportion of that effort towards option three?

Pros of doing a degree of some kind:
1. It gets me the all-important bit of paper.
2. The process itself is (I'm told) beneficial.
3. The contacts made could be more useful than even the qualification itself.
4. I can choose something that is interesting and useful, probably.

Cons of a doing a degree:
1. It takes time, energy and money I can hardly afford.
2. By the time I have the qualification it's likely to be too late.
3. I remain skeptical about conveyer-belt knowledge.

So still I dither, and I get advice that goes both ways. What is bothering me at the moment is that I could have been partway through that long long process already, so how do I know what I will wish I'd been doing with my precious time a year from now? Should I hedge my bets by enrolling in a January course just in case? Or will it be a diversion from better uses of my time and resources?

Disagree or help?

If you have major points of disagreement with somebody, yet are obliged to keep some kind of relationship going, there is no avoiding compromise - however much of a naughty word that may be to brethren. As I am not as detached from my past life and acquaintances as others in my position, I rub up against this all the time.

In the case of working relationships, the simplest thing is to pretend there are no differences. Anything that can be ignored is ignored. I don't alter my appearance unduly, don't talk overmuch about life outside work, and so any potential problems can be treated as nonexistent. Out of sight, out of mind. And I refrain from commenting when the tide of rules ebbs and flows, whether it's heading in the direction of sanity or further into insular oddity.

But overall (and this is more noticeable in less formal and more emotional relationships), it isn't possible to disagree with someone over a point that one or both consider to be important without wishing that the other person thought differently about it. That's where the compromise bites a bit more. Especially where something in the belief on one side or the other results in harmful attitudes or behaviour. What can anyone do about that?

Many, I know, would say that the disagreement must be open in such cases, if one is not to be tainted with blame for harm that one knows is happening. And that is a reasonable point of view. What, though, if one's judgement is that persuasion is unlikely, but a large decrease in influence very probable as a result of expressing an opinion? In that case the clear conscience would be at the expense of the possibility of practical good. You can wash your hands of what you don't approve of, but if you hope to retain any way of edging the person away from what is going on, you must also retain some moral grubbiness from acquiescing to it in the meantime. And if no movement happens, you stay grubby for nothing.

I see this happening with me and those brethren who maintain contact with me - in both directions, depending on whose views you agree with!

A bit of practical psychology comes in handy here. It helps that, for the moment, I think they are more worried about losing influence on me than the reverse. So all conversations must be like walking on eggshells for them, whereas I needn't worry so much. That means conversation tends to range widely ... but only on subjects that have nothing to do with anything we might disagree over. But there is more to it than that.

I find that agreement is habit-forming. If I can find some subject where we will definitely agree, ideally one where they might expect me to differ from them but I don't, that agreement feels good. If the conversation then heads onto more uncertain ground, but still with some effort to find points of agreement, it can be amazing how far we get. I have found staunch brethren members able to see my point of view on some very surprising things when led to it by sufficiently diverting paths.

In a way, this is just a method of subverting conditioning. My point is that some subjects, to a person brought up to hold strong opinions, produce reflex reactions. There are many such things for brethren - a certain subject comes up, and there are instant warning lights so they know that all they are permitted to think on that subject is the party line. They expect people to disgree with them, and disagreement or argument will be pointless. Approached differently, their thoughts may be different.

Anyway, that's my self-justification for not openly disagreeing too often and making waves. I keep my conscience as clear as I need for mental comfort by straying onto subjects in conditions where I feel it will do some good, and I hope that by carefully making room for unfamiliar opinions, those opinions may gradually become less alien to them and begin to shift things. I never did have much faith in revolution and changing the world.

A long long way

Some years ago, I had a serious taste for Science Fiction. I still have, to some extent, but whereas back then I liked the ideas enough to overlook weak writing more than I would in other genres, these days I'm fussier about all my reading and ask more of the books I pick up.

However, one book has been returning to mind, one which struck me powerfully at the time and I'm not sure I have the courage to reread.

In it, a crew of astronauts are sent to Titan, the best-known moon of Saturn. The exercise is a desperate one undertaken by an American government trying hard to revive confidence, and the technology is barely sufficient to get the mission to its destination even with good luck. The plan is that the hope embodied in the mission kick-starts a technological and cultural revival in the time taken to complete it, and a second spaceship with improved abilities can then be sent to collect the brave pioneers. The distance involved is incredible, such that even radio waves take hours to get there, and so there are years and years to plan the follow-up.

Things don't go well in any respect, and the hard-hitting aspect of the book to me was its depiction of utter loneliness. I don't think I'll be spoiling much for anybody if I say that the final scenes have one solitary surviving astronaut descending to a cold and desolate surface, all the others having died en route, transmitting hopeful messages to a distant Earth ... and getting no reply because a revolution has turned the whole Globe in on itself and nobody knows or cares about the last remaining human billions of miles away. I don't think (if I remember rightly) that the writing was all that powerful in itself, but something about the scenario gave me the horrors.

That feeling of being on your own can be like a particularly cold draught that finds its way in just when warmth is in short supply, and whispers messages you don't want to hear. I've felt it often enough over the years to know. It was never worth telling anyone about, because the standard brethren response would be that only sin can bring about such a sensation, and the way back to happiness is to give up something in your life which is against God's will and causing the alienation. If part of the problem is feeling fundamentally different to those around you, and yet still feeling unwilling to forgo their love and respect, that can't help. Obviously I've never been as far from human support as the moons of Saturn, but the situation had painful parallels.

My coping mechanism (I suppose everybody outside mental institutions has something like it) has been to try to be the person that others seem to need me to be. That's something that has only recently become clear to me. I pick up on clues from those who care, and attempt to mould myself into the person they expect and would like, while inside remains a sadder and weaker individual who only appears when I'm too tired to keep up the effort of being the "me" I present to the world. And, of course, at such times I feel a failure for having slipped, which compounds the problem, and the people I can least share the emotion with are those I feel I've failed.

These kinds of conflicts are a prime reason why I had to get out of my previous life. I hoped I could leave such things behind as unnecessary in a less judgmental world. But of course life and mental characteristics aren't as simple as that, and I find I slip into the old ways of reacting and build up problems that make no sense outside the restrictions of brethrenland. I'm still unsure at times what is the real me, and what is a collection of actions and reactions I've put on like a costume. The effort involved is sometimes a clue, but who wants to spend time around someone who makes no effort to conform? Not all costumes are a bad thing.

I'm not quite sure what I'm driving at here. Maybe the point is that, to some extent, the old saying that no man is an island is exactly wrong. We are all alone in our heads in some absolute way, and it's only once we have accepted and learned how to deal with the fact that we become sturdy enough for others to rely on us. I don't feel I've quite got there yet.

I'm not a party man, but ...

The day of the unaccustomed event has come and gone, and things worked better than I feared they might. I have no real way of knowing whether my most nagging worry was justified or not, which was whether the occasion could possibly be worth the effort it took some attendees to get to it, but everybody seemed cheerful enough.

The thing that hit me most as of this morning was that the entire weekend seems to have vanished twice as fast as usual. The time with guests went quickly, as so often happens, but with a busy week last week and then launching straight into preparations, it felt like I was still at high speed as we reached the finishing line of guest arrival time, and couldn't slow down in time to enjoy it as I should have done.

I have learned a few things in the course of it all:

1. There is more space in my living room than I thought, and I could have fitted more chairs in - but probably not more people!

2. Helpful neighbours are a good thing, but having enough cutlery myself would be better.

3. Notwithstanding point one, I would have been glad if a couple of people who are nothing to do with the brethren had been able to come, because I was uncomfortable with the amount of brethren talk at some points. More notice is probably required, as I learned from some other people too.

4. If everybody is at ease enough, they can simply ask if they need something, otherwise ten to a dozen people is too many to keep an eye on their drink levels all at once, and help may be needed.

5. It's a good idea to check the glasses before visitors arrive, as the normally unused ones may be embarrassingly dusty, even in a cupboard.

6. I have touchingly good friends.

I was worried beforehand that I didn't know what to be most worried about, and by mid-afternoon on Saturday was definitely most worried that we still had no food cooked ... but in the event the food was less of a problem than I thought. I hope nobody went home hungry, as there didn't seem to be all that much (definitely not afterwards!), but nobody sat looking sadly at an empty plate, fortunately.

On the whole, I still think I'm not a natural party person, and function best in very small gatherings - I was sad that I didn't get to speak properly to many of the visitors yesterday - but I'm very glad I did this, and am also very grateful for the support. I expect I shall have a little warm glow for a few days.