The Methodists: the mystery continues.
Sunday morning: 9.28
Having stayed awake until 2am watching Hercules, an animated film by a giant corporation I won't name, I am not terribly pleased to be awake at this hour. But I decide that faced with a choice of hanging round the house, or launching myself into the bathroom for the quickest wash in history and running to the next village for church, that I will choose church. So having dressed at lightning speed, I am preparing to leave when my Mum tells me that they intend to go for a walk so they will drop me off. I am pleased; it means I have time for a cup of tea. Because I am barely awake, I pick up the wrong cup and end up with my Mum's tea instead of mine. For some reason, my Mum does not see the funny side of this, but I am fairly amused, especially since I still get to drink my own tea. A bowl of cranberry wheats later and we are all ready to go. The parents want to know which church it is so they can take me to the door, I can't think of much else that would be more embarrassing so I tell insist on being dropped off at the bridge; partly as I say, to avoid the humiliation of being dropped off at the door by my parents because I think I am too old for this, but partly because this week, the weather is decent and I have remembered my phone and I want to take some pictures from the bridge.
I arrive at the blue church in time to hear the resident organist belting out Panis Angelicus which despite being cheesy, is one of my favourites. I am greeted by two old chaps who welcome me and then as I am casting my gaze about for a hymn book, I am grasped enthusiastically into a hug by another old chap who apologises for not doing his duty properly. When I have overcome the shock and found a seat in a corner, I nod inwardly, things could be looking up. I am slightly taken aback however, when an elderly lady, devoid of clerical vestments comes in and begins the service. We are joined in the front row by a couple of women with three children between them. One of the boys sits and behaves himself nicely but the other two for some reason, think this is an appropriate place to have a playfight and jump all over the pew. The elderly woman at the front who is reading the call to worship, clearly thinks this is cute, and makes a point of welcoming them and during the first hymn, which is kumbyah (spelling not withstanding, I've never liked it and thus don't care how it is spelled) to different words, she puts her hands together and moves them from side to side in a very bizarre manner which makes her look as though she is doing charades and trying to get us to guess "fish" and smiles in sickly way at the boys. Predictably, the boys don't take an awful lot of notice. After the hymn, the lady comes out from behind the pulpit type thing and asks the children what flowers they know. One of them was clearly paying attention to the news last week and comes out with Poppy. That's good and then we have a little thing about daisies and buttercups which are SHINY. I wonder where this is going. I am none the wiser when the lady pulls a GIANT hydrangea flower from her plastic shopper, the kind which usually have pictures of boats and lighthouses or cats on each side - hers seems to have leaves on it... After the boys on the front row have been forced to scrutinise it, we hear a little anecdote about how curious the lady was about how the flower was made. I feel my brow furrowing as she points out the stalks underneath the flower which in fact mean it is several flowers in one. My jaw fairly drops then, as I realise exactly where she is going. It's a whole new approach to the Trinity. God is a hydrangea. Not only can I not quite believe that she is actually going to do this, but I can't quite see how we have come to this conclusion though because the flower in fact has 5 stalks, one in the middle and four around the outside. I find myself tensing; this has the potential to be horrible. I am not really disappointed when it turns out that the hydrangea represents God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, but God's reign over all Creation as well. Oh, and it represents Us, who are loved by God. Well it is a valid point, I have to give her that much but...
The children leave for Sunday School and we continue with a prayer which is quite nice and then a reading. Before the lector has a go at the Old Testament, she thanks everybody for their prayers and says that her husband has been given the "all clear" from the hospital. I find this oddly encouraging in a week where the news has just been completely depressing, Britain seems to be spiralling further into a chasm of darkness and evil with each passing minute, but at least something good has happened for someone. The reading is interesting, Old Testament, something to do with Josiah. The lady lector reads in a way which says that she is trying to be DRAMATIC. It's not bad, but really, this reading does not lend itself to DRAMA. The kind where the reader does their best to PROJECT their voice and EMPHASISE all the exciting/important bits. It's kind of endearing really but I could live without it. The lady at the front gives a short interpretation about the reading which is potentially interesting but my mind is elsewhere. We sing another hymn which happens to be a favourite of mine, Jesus shall reign where'er the sun, and I think I could get to like it here, even with the big wobbly soprano voice of which I can't find the source, who keeps doing little harmonies over the top of the tune. Before the New Testament readings, we enjoy the notices... Something about a roast dinner for which there are only 40 tickets because the coffee hall will only seat that many oh and... we do welcome any visitors this morning, in fact I DO see some new faces... at which point, the notice-giver, turns and nods at me. Rabbit and headlights; I am NOT amused. The reader of the New Testament is actually not that much older than I am, I don't think, but she is clearly nervous and she reads the parable of the talents at breakneck speed, also attempting the DRAMATIC thing, I feel sorry for her though because she consistently puts the emphasis in all the wrong places especially during the dialogue which makes the whole thing sound very strange. This is followed by something from Thessalonians but I am ashamed of myself for not listening because I am already thinking about something else. After this we have a little talk about the content of that and then the intercessions. Nice prayers, not as good as Mary-of-the-uncommonly-good-sense, but pretty good. Heartfelt. We sing the Lord's Prayer. I say we... the rest of the congregation does as I don't know this version. I don't plan on learning it either, it's fairly horrible; a 3 out of 5 on the Camembert cheese scale...
A final hymn which is a real belter and I have a quick prayer by myself before literally legging it out of the door and down the street in order to avoid having to have the old "Are you new to the Village chat". On reflection, I think that I quite like it here... not only that, but I think I could sing and the people here would most likely enjoy my choice of tune. Nice. Now that I have finally found the Methodists, I think I'll visit again.
Having stayed awake until 2am watching Hercules, an animated film by a giant corporation I won't name, I am not terribly pleased to be awake at this hour. But I decide that faced with a choice of hanging round the house, or launching myself into the bathroom for the quickest wash in history and running to the next village for church, that I will choose church. So having dressed at lightning speed, I am preparing to leave when my Mum tells me that they intend to go for a walk so they will drop me off. I am pleased; it means I have time for a cup of tea. Because I am barely awake, I pick up the wrong cup and end up with my Mum's tea instead of mine. For some reason, my Mum does not see the funny side of this, but I am fairly amused, especially since I still get to drink my own tea. A bowl of cranberry wheats later and we are all ready to go. The parents want to know which church it is so they can take me to the door, I can't think of much else that would be more embarrassing so I tell insist on being dropped off at the bridge; partly as I say, to avoid the humiliation of being dropped off at the door by my parents because I think I am too old for this, but partly because this week, the weather is decent and I have remembered my phone and I want to take some pictures from the bridge.
I arrive at the blue church in time to hear the resident organist belting out Panis Angelicus which despite being cheesy, is one of my favourites. I am greeted by two old chaps who welcome me and then as I am casting my gaze about for a hymn book, I am grasped enthusiastically into a hug by another old chap who apologises for not doing his duty properly. When I have overcome the shock and found a seat in a corner, I nod inwardly, things could be looking up. I am slightly taken aback however, when an elderly lady, devoid of clerical vestments comes in and begins the service. We are joined in the front row by a couple of women with three children between them. One of the boys sits and behaves himself nicely but the other two for some reason, think this is an appropriate place to have a playfight and jump all over the pew. The elderly woman at the front who is reading the call to worship, clearly thinks this is cute, and makes a point of welcoming them and during the first hymn, which is kumbyah (spelling not withstanding, I've never liked it and thus don't care how it is spelled) to different words, she puts her hands together and moves them from side to side in a very bizarre manner which makes her look as though she is doing charades and trying to get us to guess "fish" and smiles in sickly way at the boys. Predictably, the boys don't take an awful lot of notice. After the hymn, the lady comes out from behind the pulpit type thing and asks the children what flowers they know. One of them was clearly paying attention to the news last week and comes out with Poppy. That's good and then we have a little thing about daisies and buttercups which are SHINY. I wonder where this is going. I am none the wiser when the lady pulls a GIANT hydrangea flower from her plastic shopper, the kind which usually have pictures of boats and lighthouses or cats on each side - hers seems to have leaves on it... After the boys on the front row have been forced to scrutinise it, we hear a little anecdote about how curious the lady was about how the flower was made. I feel my brow furrowing as she points out the stalks underneath the flower which in fact mean it is several flowers in one. My jaw fairly drops then, as I realise exactly where she is going. It's a whole new approach to the Trinity. God is a hydrangea. Not only can I not quite believe that she is actually going to do this, but I can't quite see how we have come to this conclusion though because the flower in fact has 5 stalks, one in the middle and four around the outside. I find myself tensing; this has the potential to be horrible. I am not really disappointed when it turns out that the hydrangea represents God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, but God's reign over all Creation as well. Oh, and it represents Us, who are loved by God. Well it is a valid point, I have to give her that much but...
The children leave for Sunday School and we continue with a prayer which is quite nice and then a reading. Before the lector has a go at the Old Testament, she thanks everybody for their prayers and says that her husband has been given the "all clear" from the hospital. I find this oddly encouraging in a week where the news has just been completely depressing, Britain seems to be spiralling further into a chasm of darkness and evil with each passing minute, but at least something good has happened for someone. The reading is interesting, Old Testament, something to do with Josiah. The lady lector reads in a way which says that she is trying to be DRAMATIC. It's not bad, but really, this reading does not lend itself to DRAMA. The kind where the reader does their best to PROJECT their voice and EMPHASISE all the exciting/important bits. It's kind of endearing really but I could live without it. The lady at the front gives a short interpretation about the reading which is potentially interesting but my mind is elsewhere. We sing another hymn which happens to be a favourite of mine, Jesus shall reign where'er the sun, and I think I could get to like it here, even with the big wobbly soprano voice of which I can't find the source, who keeps doing little harmonies over the top of the tune. Before the New Testament readings, we enjoy the notices... Something about a roast dinner for which there are only 40 tickets because the coffee hall will only seat that many oh and... we do welcome any visitors this morning, in fact I DO see some new faces... at which point, the notice-giver, turns and nods at me. Rabbit and headlights; I am NOT amused. The reader of the New Testament is actually not that much older than I am, I don't think, but she is clearly nervous and she reads the parable of the talents at breakneck speed, also attempting the DRAMATIC thing, I feel sorry for her though because she consistently puts the emphasis in all the wrong places especially during the dialogue which makes the whole thing sound very strange. This is followed by something from Thessalonians but I am ashamed of myself for not listening because I am already thinking about something else. After this we have a little talk about the content of that and then the intercessions. Nice prayers, not as good as Mary-of-the-uncommonly-good-sense, but pretty good. Heartfelt. We sing the Lord's Prayer. I say we... the rest of the congregation does as I don't know this version. I don't plan on learning it either, it's fairly horrible; a 3 out of 5 on the Camembert cheese scale...
A final hymn which is a real belter and I have a quick prayer by myself before literally legging it out of the door and down the street in order to avoid having to have the old "Are you new to the Village chat". On reflection, I think that I quite like it here... not only that, but I think I could sing and the people here would most likely enjoy my choice of tune. Nice. Now that I have finally found the Methodists, I think I'll visit again.
posted by OrientBird | 12:25
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