I was struck by a minor dilemma this week when preparing for worship: how do you combine the Parable of the Prodigal Son - essentially a tale of a father & two son - with Mother's Day? My solution was to try and look at that story, so well-known in Christian lore, from the mother's perspective - not easy for a bloke!
The response to what I came up with has been such that I felt it would be right for me to share it on this forum. Don't be shy at letting me know what you think: does it speak to you? Does it shine new light on an old story? Or is it just fanciful nonsense?
A Mother's Tale
I suppose our family is much the same as many others – there are times when everything is peace and calm and love and understanding; and then there are the normal days! Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love my two boys: it’s just there are moments when it seems they can’t bear to be on the same planet as each other, never mind the same room!
Simon – he’s the elder of the two – he’s always been the conscientious one, you know: takes being the ‘first-born’ very seriously. As soon as he could he went off to agricultural college, so that he’d know how to run the farm properly – did well too; got his head down and studied hard – not really a natural student, but came away with a good qualification. And Jo & I were really proud of him.
Josh, now he’s a different sort altogether: headstrong, adventurous, lippy, winds his dad and his brother up all the time. In a way I blame myself: he was a bit of a surprise, shall we say, and it wasn’t an easy pregnancy, and we thought we’d lost him at one stage, but it all worked out in the end. But I think we spoiled him a bit, you know, what with being the ‘baby’ of the family – there’s 8 years between him and Simon, you know.
I’ll never forget that evening. Josh had just turned 17; we were sat round the dinner table enjoying a nice bit of lamb, and Josh turned to Jo and asked him “What’s my share of the farm worth?” Well, Jo was a little taken aback, and Simon just glared at him over the peas. My first thought was whether he’d got himself into trouble, you know, and needed a little help. “Why do you ask, son?” said Jo. “Well, to be honest” he said, “I’m sick of life here. I want to get out and see the world, experience things, taste things, you know. I don’t want to be stuck here all my life, and to be frank I can’t wait for you to die before I can enjoy all this. So, give me my share now.” Simon stood up and shouted: “How dare you talk to Dad like that!” and there was a lot of other things said that I don’t want to repeat, and they both stormed out with much door-slamming. When they’d gone, Jo & I just sat there: I was aching inside, and I knew Jo was upset because he didn’t say a word.
The next day Jo got up early and went into town. He was gone ages, but when he came back he called Josh in and gave him a large envelope. “You know that Simon gets twice as much as you, because he’s the elder, don’t you? Well, here’s ⅓ of what this place is worth: take it, but that’s it – there’s no more.” And with that he turned and left the room. Josh looked at the envelope for a few seconds, then opened it, flicked through the notes and smiled that cheeky smile of his. Then he was off up to his room, and half an hour later, with his rucksack on his back, he was away through the door with nothing more than a “See ya!” as he left.
On the surface life went on much as before after that, except that it was noticeably quieter. We didn’t hear anything from Josh directly, though some neighbours who’d been over to the city said that they thought they’d seen him, a little worse for wear shall we say, with a rowdy group the other week. I do wish he’d just let us know he’s OK. But I’ve noticed a change in Jo since Josh left: he seems a lot quieter in himself, and in an evening he’s taken to going off by himself for a walk down the lane towards the main road. Most evenings he just stands at the end of the track, staring down the road. Simon just gets on with things: doesn’t seem to miss his brother at all; in fact I’ve even heard him saying to some of the farm-hands “Good riddance to him!” Breaks my heart to hear him say things like that, but what can you do?
It’s been months now since we’ve heard anything. We occasionally talk with those who go to the city, but no-one seems to have seen or heard from him. Oh, why doesn’t he just come home? I’m sure we can sort things out. Jo still goes for his evening walks, but always seems a little sadder when he comes home.
I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d see this day! It’s Josh: he’s home! Jo had gone out as usual this evening, and it seems that he’d spotted this dishevelled character coming along the road – he almost smelled him before he saw him! Jo’d turned away, but something made him look again at him, and then he recognised him. He looks like he’s hardly eaten for weeks; unshaven and unwashed, but that didn’t stop Jo: he ran up to him and threw his arms round him and wouldn’t let him go for ages. When he did let go, Josh just collapsed at his feet in tears. Then he told Jo what had happened to him since he’d left us: how he’d gone off to the city and partied; made lots of new friends, until the money had run out; and then he’d struggled to get a job and ended up back on a farm, but this time looking after pigs of all things. The pay was more or less nonexistent, and he ended up sleeping in the sty, he was so desperate! He even thought about eating the pig-swill, he was so hungry at times! Oh, my poor boy!
Then, he said, one night he started thinking: “Even the farm-hands at home do better than this. I can’t go on living in this way: I’m going to have to swallow my pride and go home, ask dad if he’ll take me on as a farm-hand.” So he upped and set off home.
“We’re having none of that!” Jo said. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done: you’re my son and nothing is ever going to change that. Work as a farm-hand, indeed!” The he called me over and told me to prepare that calf we’ve been fattening up: we’re going to have the biggest party there’s ever been! I say, OK, but first things first: let’s get this boy in a nice hot bath and get him some clean clothes.
Naturally Simon heard all the commotion and wanted to know what was going on. When I told him he was furious and stormed off to the barn by himself. Jo told me to leave him be; he’d have a word with him later. For now, let’s celebrate! Josh’s back!
Half way through the night Simon still hadn’t shown his face, so Jo went to find him. He was still behind the barn, chuntering to himself. Jo said to me later that he’d never seen him so angry. “I’ve stuck by you and mum through thick and thin”, he said, “even through that winter when we got foot & mouth and we could’ve lost everything. And what thanks do I get, eh? You’ve never once told me to invite my mates round for a party. And this waste of space of a son of yours” – he couldn’t even bring himself to call Josh his brother – “he comes back after blowing his inheritance on wine, women & song, and this happens! It’s just not fair, dad!”
Jo didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he just said softly: “Simon, I’ve never been good at talking about feelings: I usually leave that to your mother. But we’re so grateful that you’ve been here all this time, especially when things were tough, and you know that this is all yours when we’ve gone. Nothing can take that away from you. But you also know that your mum & I have been worried sick about Josh since he left us; we didn’t even know until today whether he was alive or dead. But now we know: our son…your brother… is alive! We can’t help but want to celebrate. If not for Josh, then come in for me and your mother.”
And you know: that was the best Mother’s Day we ever had.
Sunday, 10 March 2013
Saturday, 2 March 2013
English Electric (Part 2)
2012 proved to be a classic year for Progressive Rock music, and one of the many outstanding albums to be released was Big Big Train's 'English Electric (Part 1)' (my album of the year for 2012). Big Big Train have been producing consistently good and increasingly excellent music for a number of years now, and their latest offering, the second part of English Electric, has just been released to much anticipation.
What can be said about this work of art? - for that is what it is. Like much of their work it is immediately evocative of both the heyday of Progressive music from the 1970s and an essential Englishness that the title might imply: there is even a 'guest appearance' from Sir John Betjeman! But although there are echoes of bands like Genesis ('Worked Out' for me has hints of 'Driving the Last Spike' about it) they are in no way seeking to ape their style: here is a distinctiveness all their own.
The music is emotive and emotional; well-written - both lyrically and melodically - and equally well-played; David Longdon's vocals can soar and swoop like a swallow in flight; and how many bands within the breadth of the Rock genre would include strings, a banjo and a brass band in their arrangements?
The songs bring back images of an England from decades past: an England of steam trains, shipyards and coal mines, and of ruined abbeys and butterflies. For a band from the South coast to take this northern 'lad' back to his halcyon days is something that took me aback, but in a good way!
This is part 2 of a collection, and naturally there are echoes in this collection of its worthy predecessor, most notably in 'The Permanent Way' (which perhaps should've closed the album) taking us back to the closer of Part 1, 'Hedgerow', and to its opener, 'The First Rebreather'. Together they present a work that I have no doubt will be looked back on by generations to come as a classic of the Progressive genre. If only more people could/ would listen to such sublime music! And if only we could see this music performed live sometime!
What can be said about this work of art? - for that is what it is. Like much of their work it is immediately evocative of both the heyday of Progressive music from the 1970s and an essential Englishness that the title might imply: there is even a 'guest appearance' from Sir John Betjeman! But although there are echoes of bands like Genesis ('Worked Out' for me has hints of 'Driving the Last Spike' about it) they are in no way seeking to ape their style: here is a distinctiveness all their own.
The music is emotive and emotional; well-written - both lyrically and melodically - and equally well-played; David Longdon's vocals can soar and swoop like a swallow in flight; and how many bands within the breadth of the Rock genre would include strings, a banjo and a brass band in their arrangements?
The songs bring back images of an England from decades past: an England of steam trains, shipyards and coal mines, and of ruined abbeys and butterflies. For a band from the South coast to take this northern 'lad' back to his halcyon days is something that took me aback, but in a good way!
This is part 2 of a collection, and naturally there are echoes in this collection of its worthy predecessor, most notably in 'The Permanent Way' (which perhaps should've closed the album) taking us back to the closer of Part 1, 'Hedgerow', and to its opener, 'The First Rebreather'. Together they present a work that I have no doubt will be looked back on by generations to come as a classic of the Progressive genre. If only more people could/ would listen to such sublime music! And if only we could see this music performed live sometime!
Tuesday, 5 February 2013
Equal Marriage
Today in the UK Parliament a debate is taking place on whether same-sex couples should be permitted to marry in England & Wales. This is a matter that has caused much division and discussion within Parliament, within society at large, and within the Christian churches of Britain (and further afield).
At issue, it seems to me, is the understanding in the popular mindset of what marriage is and is about. For many marriage is a sacred, even sacramental act: a life-long union of one man and one woman which provides the setting for the physical expression of love, for the procreation and nurture of children, and for the stability of social society. Any proposed changes that counter that traditional - some would say God-given - interpretation of marriage strike at the heart not only of the institution but of society itself.
For others, marriage - if is it necessary at all - is the context in which mutual affection, desire and love are expressed between two individuals, irrespective of their gender. If a man and a woman, two men or two women wish to publicly confess their love for each other and covenant to a life-long commitment to one another, then why shouldn't they? What matters is that society provides them with an occasion to express the depth of their relationship in a way that is meaningful to them and to their friends and family, irrespective of whether this is in a secular or religious context.
In my own thinking I have been slowly moving towards this second, more accommodating view of marriage. Whether marriage is open to all, irrespective of their particular orientation, makes no difference to my marriage of nearly 25 years: it does not undermine my relationship with my wife nor make it any less real and valid an expression of our love for each other. So why should my lesbian and gay brothers and sisters be denied the opportunity to publicly express their love in the same way?
We are all who and how God and society have made us to be; created equal in the eyes of God; equally loved and redeemed by God. This is a matter of equality, of justice, as the matters of race and gender are. While there are still rivers to cross in the fight for true equality, let us not fall at this hurdle (horrible mixed metaphors, but you get my drift ;)).
At issue, it seems to me, is the understanding in the popular mindset of what marriage is and is about. For many marriage is a sacred, even sacramental act: a life-long union of one man and one woman which provides the setting for the physical expression of love, for the procreation and nurture of children, and for the stability of social society. Any proposed changes that counter that traditional - some would say God-given - interpretation of marriage strike at the heart not only of the institution but of society itself.
For others, marriage - if is it necessary at all - is the context in which mutual affection, desire and love are expressed between two individuals, irrespective of their gender. If a man and a woman, two men or two women wish to publicly confess their love for each other and covenant to a life-long commitment to one another, then why shouldn't they? What matters is that society provides them with an occasion to express the depth of their relationship in a way that is meaningful to them and to their friends and family, irrespective of whether this is in a secular or religious context.
In my own thinking I have been slowly moving towards this second, more accommodating view of marriage. Whether marriage is open to all, irrespective of their particular orientation, makes no difference to my marriage of nearly 25 years: it does not undermine my relationship with my wife nor make it any less real and valid an expression of our love for each other. So why should my lesbian and gay brothers and sisters be denied the opportunity to publicly express their love in the same way?
We are all who and how God and society have made us to be; created equal in the eyes of God; equally loved and redeemed by God. This is a matter of equality, of justice, as the matters of race and gender are. While there are still rivers to cross in the fight for true equality, let us not fall at this hurdle (horrible mixed metaphors, but you get my drift ;)).
Saturday, 26 January 2013
Life of Pi
Adaptations of best-selling books for film can be hit-and-miss. Some have enhanced the story, others have ruined it (the film version of 'The Lovely Bones' for instance, while tense and brooding in places, was in many respects a travesty of the book). So when it was announced that Ang Lee was committing Yann Martel's Booker Prize-winning novel 'Life of Pi' to film there was some interest and not a small amount of concern, as the book was deemed by many to be unfilmable.
The ideas in the story of 'Life of Pi' have fascinated me from the time it was shortlisted for the Booker, but I must confess I had not managed to get round to reading it until recently, really in preparation for watching the film. The reason for the delay I'm not too clear about, other than the fact that I just didn't get around to it. Also, I have been somewhat disappointed recently by Booker-winning novels: 'The Finkler Question' promised much but sadly left me quite flat, and Julian Barnes, whose earlier work I have greatly admired in the past, left me somewhat similarly deflated with 'The Sense of an Ending'.
'Life of Pi', however, captivated me from the start. The images of beauty and brutality; the search for truth and for God; the determination to hang on to sanity and survival against tremendous ordeals - towering themes that permeate the book - were handled with sensitivity and at times with great power.
If you can only read a small portion of this book, read Chapter 74: I wanted to quote the whole thing, but here is one particular passage that spoke potently to me, and stayed with me:
I came to the film having almost finished the book, but not quite. I found the film a triumph: sumptuous in its cinematography, faithful in its narrative, and true to the spirit and spirituality of the original novel. Pi's natural ability to see and commune with God in the religious systems of Hinduism, Islam and Christianity, as well as in the beauty and the horror of nature in all its forms, was sensitively and seductively portrayed.
The film and the book left me with a profound reminder of the strength of good stories to elucidate truth. I highly recommend both media to any who enjoy a good narrative, or a parable even...
The ideas in the story of 'Life of Pi' have fascinated me from the time it was shortlisted for the Booker, but I must confess I had not managed to get round to reading it until recently, really in preparation for watching the film. The reason for the delay I'm not too clear about, other than the fact that I just didn't get around to it. Also, I have been somewhat disappointed recently by Booker-winning novels: 'The Finkler Question' promised much but sadly left me quite flat, and Julian Barnes, whose earlier work I have greatly admired in the past, left me somewhat similarly deflated with 'The Sense of an Ending'.
'Life of Pi', however, captivated me from the start. The images of beauty and brutality; the search for truth and for God; the determination to hang on to sanity and survival against tremendous ordeals - towering themes that permeate the book - were handled with sensitivity and at times with great power.
If you can only read a small portion of this book, read Chapter 74: I wanted to quote the whole thing, but here is one particular passage that spoke potently to me, and stayed with me:
Faith in God is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, a free act of love— but sometimes it was so hard to love. Sometimes my heart was sinking so fast with anger, desolation and weariness, I was afraid it would sink to the very bottom of the Pacific and I would not be able to lift it back up.
I came to the film having almost finished the book, but not quite. I found the film a triumph: sumptuous in its cinematography, faithful in its narrative, and true to the spirit and spirituality of the original novel. Pi's natural ability to see and commune with God in the religious systems of Hinduism, Islam and Christianity, as well as in the beauty and the horror of nature in all its forms, was sensitively and seductively portrayed.
The film and the book left me with a profound reminder of the strength of good stories to elucidate truth. I highly recommend both media to any who enjoy a good narrative, or a parable even...
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
My Fair Lady
Last night I accompanied my wife, Judith, to the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield to enjoy her Christmas present: tickets to see Daniel Evans' production of 'My Fair Lady'. And what an evening we enjoyed!
The house was packed out - as I believe it has been throughout the show's run so far - and we were treated to a spectacular performance of song, dance and story to rival the West End. The sets, particularly Higgins' study, were very good, and used the unique space at the Crucible very well. The music, performed live under the stage under the splendid direction of Nigel Lilley, set the mood brilliantly and helped the story along at just the right pace. The cast were all excellent, performing with energy and enthusiasm throughout their 2½ hours on stage, but especial mention must go Louis Maskell as Freddy, Martyn Ellis as Alfred P Doolittle, and of course the the two principals: Carly Bawden as Eliza Doolittle and Dominic West as Henry Higgins.
One of the problems with a show like My Fair Lady is that the songs - such as 'The Rain in Spain', 'I Could Have Danced All Night', 'On The Street Where You Live' & 'Get Me To The Church On Time' - are all very well-known, and cinema has given us what many consider the definitive portrayal of the story from Rex Harrison & Audrey Hepburn. West echoed Harrison's 'talk singing' here, but managed sing as well, and has a reasonable singing voice himself. Bawden made the transition from Cockney flower girl to society lady wonderfully and I think she has a great future in this field. The cast's performance of 'Get Me To The Church On Time' left them and the audience breathless, and by the end of the night the majority of the crowd were on their feet applauding an outstanding, energetic and moving performance.
If there is any justice, this should be an award-winning show. If you can - and it may not be easy - get a ticket, sit back and enjoy a spectacular evening's entertainment!
The house was packed out - as I believe it has been throughout the show's run so far - and we were treated to a spectacular performance of song, dance and story to rival the West End. The sets, particularly Higgins' study, were very good, and used the unique space at the Crucible very well. The music, performed live under the stage under the splendid direction of Nigel Lilley, set the mood brilliantly and helped the story along at just the right pace. The cast were all excellent, performing with energy and enthusiasm throughout their 2½ hours on stage, but especial mention must go Louis Maskell as Freddy, Martyn Ellis as Alfred P Doolittle, and of course the the two principals: Carly Bawden as Eliza Doolittle and Dominic West as Henry Higgins.
One of the problems with a show like My Fair Lady is that the songs - such as 'The Rain in Spain', 'I Could Have Danced All Night', 'On The Street Where You Live' & 'Get Me To The Church On Time' - are all very well-known, and cinema has given us what many consider the definitive portrayal of the story from Rex Harrison & Audrey Hepburn. West echoed Harrison's 'talk singing' here, but managed sing as well, and has a reasonable singing voice himself. Bawden made the transition from Cockney flower girl to society lady wonderfully and I think she has a great future in this field. The cast's performance of 'Get Me To The Church On Time' left them and the audience breathless, and by the end of the night the majority of the crowd were on their feet applauding an outstanding, energetic and moving performance.
If there is any justice, this should be an award-winning show. If you can - and it may not be easy - get a ticket, sit back and enjoy a spectacular evening's entertainment!
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