Ready, Steady, Bake!

“Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up…”

 –  Julius Caesar

To overstate the obvious, Britain is baking mad. Although it has always been a nation of bakers, Britain is now a nation that is baking obsessed! The British baking industry is worth more than £3.4 billion, and the effect is evident in the high street. Marks & Spencer have reported sales increases of up to 20% for baking ingredients, particularly in specialist sugars and cake decorating equipment. At John Lewis, purchases of cake tins and muffin trays have increased by 15%, while sales in vintage-style cake tins and stands have more than doubled.

This chain of events is due largely to the phenomenal success of the BBC’s baking competition show, “The Great British Bake Off”.  Each week, some four million plus viewers tune in to watch the dynamic duo of Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood critique the calibre of contestants' cupcakes and croquembouche. But, this you know – unless of course you have been living on the planet Mars for the past four years!

What you may not know is that there was a time in Britain when baking could land you in prison! In 1664, Olivier Cromwell’s Puritans banned Christmas pudding, along with mince pies and a whole host of other festive holiday foods (and beverages, church services, and…!). The humble Christmas pudding became the focus of Puritan attack on the “lewd” and “debauched” festive celebrations that were "unfit for God-fearing people". Anyone caught making a fruit-studded, brandy soaked dessert was carted off and punished severely.

King George I (1714-1727) reestablished the custom of serving it as part of the royal holiday feast in 1714. That is, despite objections voiced by the Quakers, who regarded Christmas pudding as "the invention of the scarlet whore of Babylon". We have that great guardian of Victorian family values, Prince Albert, to thank for returning the lowly and much-maligned Christmas pudding, much as we know it today, back on to the holiday map.

Recently, I discovered another great, British, Christmas Pudding tradition that has come down to us from the time of Albert and Victoria: “Stir-Up Sunday”. Stir-up Sunday is the last Sunday before the season of Advent. (This year’s date is 23 November.) The term “Stir-Up Sunday” comes from the opening words of the Collect for the day (the "The Twenty-Fifth Sunday After Trinity", or, the fifth Sunday before Christmas) in the Book of Common Prayer:

Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

This exhortation was apparently a timely reminder to the ladies of the congregation of their need to bring forth their plenteous fruits (suet and brandy) and to get stirring! What a wonderful way to enter into the spirit of the season of Advent – a time of expectant waiting and preparation before the festivities of Christmas and the Nativity.

Traditionally, Stir-Up Sunday was a family affair, with parents and children gathering in the kitchen to make the Christmas pudding together, every member of the family taking a turn stirring the bowl, whilst uttering a wish. The puds and wishes were then carefully wrapped in brandy soaked cloths to mellow over the coming weeks until Christmas Day.

It is a sad truth, thanks to the ease, convenience and quality of store-bought Christmas puddings, that two-thirds of British children have never experienced stirring or making a Christmas pudding.

Getting everyone huddled in the kitchen for Stir-Up Sunday is a Victorian fantasy, to be sure. But, one well worth reviving, I think, particularly, in the midst of our avid Baking madness.

                                                                                  ***** 

Prince Albert's Christmas Pudding

For 8 helpings: 1 Ib prunes; 1 pt water; 1 lemon; 1 oz Barbados sugar; butter for greasing; 2 large eggs; 4 oz butter; 4 oz soft light brown sugar; pinch of salt; 4 oz soft wholemeal breadcrumbs; 1 oz semolina; brandy butter (Guard Sauce) made with 3 oz butter; 4 oz icing sugar and 1 oz ground almonds.

Steep the prunes in the water overnight. Grate the rind of half the lemon and pare the rest. Squeeze the juice. Simmer the prunes with the water, pared rind, juice, and Barbados sugar until soft. Drain. Cut the fruit in half and remove the stones. Crease the inside of a 2 pint pudding basin thickly with butter. Press enough prunes into the fat, cut side down, to line the basin completely. Shred any prunes left over. Separate the eggs.

Beat the 4 oz fat and soft brown sugar until creamy, and beat in the egg yolks and salt. Mix in the grated rind, breadcrumbs, semolina and any shredded prunes. Whisk the egg whites until they hold firm peaks and fold them into the mixture. Turn into the basin, cover tightly with greased foil and steam for 2 1/2-3 hours.

Firm in the basin for 6 minutes, then turn on to a warmed serving dish. Serve with chilled brandy butter and whipped cream. Note: If you wish, make the steeping liquid of the prunes into a sauce with 1 teaspoon arrowroot and 1 tablespoon brandy to each 1/2 pt liquid.

Testing the waters - The Second Sunday of Advent

As part of my vocation discernment process, I have been assigned on a "mini-placement" at lovely parish not far from where we live. The church, St Mary Magdalen's, has an outstanding lady vicar, called Charlotte, who is a real dynamo! She's visionary and very inspiring, yet calm, and down-to-earth. Charlotte offered me the opportunity to give a sermon during this Advent season, and today was my big day.

When she first suggested I preach, I panicked. "What, who me?!" was my internal response. But, it felt cowardly to say "No, thank you." And, an opportunity for growth and exploration to say, "Yes." Planning and prepping the sermon as difficult as I'd imagined it would be.

Unlike my 'day job' teaching/lecturing on Shakespeare, where I have a regular, captive audience at my mercy for well over 3 hours at a stretch, and feel as if I could push the metaphoric "Play button" in the back of my head, and discourse at length on "Auto-pilot", I felt a real constraint in this process. It felt comparatively like so little time, with so much more important information to communicate and express. It also felt more delicate, more precious. A real privilege and honour.

The texts for this Sunday, the 2nd Second Advent, are centred on John the Baptist - not the easiest topic to cover, as far as I'm concerned. But, I gave it a shot. And, the feedback was very positive and supportive. (The congregation had been warned it was my first sermon!) They are a really lovely parish, very warm, friendly and diverse, with a good range of ages and constituencies: young families, singles, kids, older people, etc. And, of course, my "high church, Episcopalian background" set me up with a good foundation for pitch, tone and style. (Thank you, St Luke's!)

Toward the end of the service, we sang "Whom Shall I Send", an old favourite hymn of mine from my Catholic university days. It felt as if Fr Labran was there, wishing me well and saying "Well done."

- - -

Sermon for 8 December 2013

“Voices in the Wilderness”

“In those days John the Baptist came into the wilderness of Judea proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” For he is the one about whom Isaiah the prophet had spoken: “The voice of one shouting in the wilderness, Prepare the way for the Lord, make his paths straight.’”               (Matt 3: 1-3)

I don’t know about you, but I have always found John the Baptist more than a little intimidating. I recall quite vividly seeing Franco Zeffirelli’s iconic film Jesus of Nazareth with Robert Powell as a gently stoical Christ, and which featured Michael York as a heavily bearded and severely bedraggled wild man, John the Baptist.

Even at the tender age of 10, I was struck by John’s courage and conviction, his willingness to sacrifice himself to proclaim the Good News, but I also felt a deep sense of discomfiture and unease with his missionary zeal, his rather aggressive methods and tactics. I remember feeling embarrassed and deeply uncomfortable watching John berating and humiliating Herod and his wife, Herodias, publicly for all to see and witness. If this was a chief example of Christian evangelism, it was indeed a tough one to follow.

Undoubtedly, we can, in equal measures, be both inspired and overwhelmed by the examples of saints and evangelists, past and present – such as the 20^th Century martyrs who bedeck the Great West Door of Westminster Abbey – whose extraordinary lives were each characterised by a fearless faith, and the same courage and conviction.

However, courage and conviction have their place in the small moments of life as well. We are not all called to die for our faith, or to eat locust and honey in the wilderness, but we are called to live with courage and conviction, and to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ with passion and purpose. How we achieve this is as unique as we are, in our own individual circumstances and situations.

I believe the great Christian thinker and writer, C. S. Lewis, recently honoured with a plaque in Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey, provides us with a very useful example. In 1941, C. S. Lewis took on a commission from the BBC for Christian advocacy to present “a positive restatement of Christian doctrine in lay language” for the average man. Lewis was the perfect man for the job. His voice, described as “one part Belfast, nine parts Oxford”, was one of compassionate and sensitive authority. More important than his elocution, was his sense of himself as a “fallible chap speaking to other fallible souls”. This came across clearly over the airwaves, offering listeners the requisite combination for conveying the “awkward seriousness and strangeness of Christian faith”: Lewis possessed a tangible sense of ordinariness, coupled with the possibility of transfiguration.

Lewis was more than acutely aware of his audience, and the incredible need to “meet them where they were”, in the wilderness of his time. His wartime audience, huddled around their wirelesses, amid sirens and rubble, in streets of ruined houses, hearing the nightly bombers overhead, were seeking a cosmic world view that not only spoke to their experience, but also enabled them to make sense of it. His words reached hundreds of thousands, and then millions of listeners, who soon became readers.

For it is, of course, through his writings that most of us – particularly in the post-war generation – have come to know and love C. S. Lewis. I remember encountering The Chronicles of Narnia, and particularly, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe as a child: roughly around the same period as seeing Zefirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth. The incredibly produced animated film brought Lewis’ timeless characters to life. I remember weeping as I’d never wept before at the demise of Aslan, and the joy and recognition I felt when he returned from the dead. “It’s Jesus, in disguise!” I remember declaring quite vividly through a surge of pre-adolescent tears.

The beauty of Narnia, and the magic of his portrayal of Aslan, lies within Lewis’ bold and daring attempt to recreate profoundly and viscerally  – on the page or screen, for readers and viewers of whatever age – what is like to encounter and believe in Jesus Christ.

As Former Archbishop Rowan Williams put it: Lewis’ gift lies in making fresh that which is thought to be familiar. Sharing the “Good News”, he says, is not so much a matter of telling others what they have NEVER heard, as much as it is persuading them that there are things that they have NOT heard, when they think they have heard it all.

This leads me back to Troublesome John. What can we learn from John the Baptist? What were the key features of his ministry: Purpose, Preaching, Passion, and Personal Witness. These are the hallmarks of every evangelist – of whatever variety or style. John’s essential message in his preaching was: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" (Mt 3:2).

Rather tellingly, the word “repent” in Greek translates as: “To change one’s mind.” That, I think is the central point of evangelism – to offer others a fresh perspective, a new way of seeing or experiencing the Love of God.

And so, what about us – in our modern day wilderness of cynicism, strife, corruption, commercialisation and overarching secularism? Not many of us would be drawn to a life wearing clothes made of camel hair, eating locusts and honey, whilst hurling admonishments from the rooftops – although I do actually know a few people who might like to have a go! Similarly, we also may not be gifted with the quiet genius of a C. S. Lewis, to create volumes that inspire generations, or to produce a prolific flood of Christ-inspired words read by millions.

How can we, then, in small but substantial ways advance the Kingdom of God, to prepare the Way of the Lord, to be ourselves ‘Voices Crying out in the Wilderness’ of our daily lives?  

Here’s a small range of possibilities for us to think about during Advent, Christmas and beyond: -

* If you are sending out Christmas cards or issuing a Christmas letter to friends and family this year, why not select a religious themed card, one with a Bible verse, or add your own personal favourite Biblical text to your cards and letters. 

* Invite a non-churchgoing friend to the Carol Service or Midnight Eucharist.

* Saying sorry, and really meaning it. Unfortunately, this time of year can place us all under a considerable amount of stress. And stress can lead to grumpiness, moodiness, crankiness, and short fuses particularly with those nearest and dearest to us – spouses, family, friends or coworkers. This season, in addition to saying “sorry”, let us try making a real effort to change, and put an end to that kind of behaviour.

* Rediscovering Prayer. This Advent, why not commit to developing a more disciplined prayer life. We cannot overestimate the power of prayer. Praying for the world, praying for the Church, praying for others and praying with others. Resolve to pray with your spouse, children, neighbour, or a friend, if you’ve not done so previously. And, praying for ourselves: that God will give us the grace and the opportunity in the coming year to be “lights in the darkness.”

Perhaps, to alter slightly the words of Mother Teresa, who encourages us to commit “Random acts of kindness”, this Advent we could strive to commit “Random acts of Christianity.”

At the heart of Christ’s message is the unconditional and redeeming Love of God. We know from that oft-quote passage in Corinthians that “Love is patient, kind, &etc.” How can we put this into practice in our daily lives? This I think is more a matter of Being than Doing. Taking a grace-full – as in full of grace – approach to our daily activities and interactions.

 As C. S. Lewis once put it: Christianity is not what you say, it isn’t what you write, and it is not even what you believe. Christianity is what you do, because of what you believe. Life, for Lewis was meant to be in itself an act of faith; and prayer, a way of thinking and being.

Advent is meant to be a time of reflection and preparation, what better time then to pause and prayerfully consider the time that has been and the time that lies ahead – and ways in which we, too, are, have been and can be witnesses and heralds for Our Lord, voices, crying out in the wilderness.

Amen.  

Hurry up, and wait

"We must be patient." - Ophelia, Hamlet

Yesterday was the Third Sunday of Advent, which is also called Gaudete Sunday.

On Gaudete Sunday, there is a brief hiatus from the violet or blue coloured vestments (cloths covering the altar and the robes that the priests wear), and everything shifts, for this one Sunday to rose or pink coloured vestments.

(There has to be a word for people who love liturgy and liturgical practices; I think I should invent that word: Liturgiaphilia.)

Also, in the wreath of Advent candles there is one pink candle amid the three, dark purple ones, and it gets lit on this day. It stands out, in all its wonderful pinkness to symbolize joyful and exuberant expectation. Gaude meaning “rejoice” in Latin.

I always loved Gaudete Sunday at St. Luke’s: the altar bedecked with giant vases full of pink roses, and heavenly smell of the incense, rose mingled with frankincense…

The message of Gaudete Sunday, using very venacular language, is: “Calm down. Relax. It’s all good.”

I have never been a patient person, and I hate to wait for anything. Period. I want things to happen when I want them to happen.

“Not now,” is a message I have never received with ease. And lately, that message seems to dog my every step. Most trying of which has been the probable miscarriage that occurred last month, which I am only now able to put into words. Clearly the message from the universe is: “Not yet.”

I have always been a firm believer in a God much bigger and better than myself, and One who loves and cares for us completely. It’s just God’s sense of narrative and pacing that have often given me cause for concern.

I find myself thinking – often aloud – “You know, God, if this particular thing (job opportunity, baby, house, agent, book deal, &etc…) could just happen at such-and-such time, that would be truly poetic, and would have such a lovely sense of narrative.”

(That’s me, talking to God, one writer to another.)

But does God listen? Well, yes, I’m sure God does listen. But God, ever the divine, independent, creative (and creating) Thinker, has God’s own sense of narrative and timing.

Our job is one of watching and waiting, but we are meant watch and wait without a sense of anxiety, but in a spirit of hopeful expectation. That’s the part I need to work on. Anxiety? I’ve got that down like a pro!

Oddly, pop culture seems to have offered some timely and topical suggestions in this regard. I’m not proud of the fact that the DEB and I recently succumbed to watching the final two episodes of  “The X-Factor” – Cheryl Cole gives me hives – but last night the lyrics of the Joe McElderry’s victory tune had an appropriate resonance:

I can almost see it

That dream I’m dreaming but

There’s a voice inside my head sayin,

You’ll never reach it,

Every step I’m taking,

Every move I make feels

Lost with no direction

My faith is shaking but I

Got to keep trying

Got to keep my head held high

There’s always going to be another mountain

I’m always going to want to make it move

Always going to be an uphill battle,

Sometimes I'm going to have to lose,

Ain’t about how fast I get there,

Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side

It’s about the climb  

 

Shortly after the glittery confetti settled on Joe McElderry, ITV featured a programme chronicling the improbable and meteoric rise of the incredible Susan Boyle.

What a story!

For over 23 years, Boyle dreamed of being a singer. She defied the odds and every expectation the world could possibly throw at her. How wonderfully refreshing to see someone achieving greatness through sheer force of will, determination and talent.

Forgive my cynicism, but frankly, there is not much talent about these days. There is a great deal of “notoriety” on offer these days, if you have the right boobs, the right face and the right publicist. As such, Susan Boyle is a much-needed tonic in this day and age.

Amanda Holden – who also gives me hives – mused, “Americans love Susan Boyle, because it’s a land where they still believe in dreams.” I much as I hate the thought of giving Amanda Holden credit for anything, I must say that she had a point there. America is a nation of dreamers. The American narrative itself is/was an impossible dream.

The message of Gaudete Sunday seems to be, from both the religious and secular realms: “Never stop dreaming.”

The other piece of advice in the Gaudete Sunday message is: "Rejoice." Rejoicing in the now. Learning to be content with what you have, while at the same time being hopeful for the future.

I refuse to let anxiety win and turn this joyous, holiday season into a “winter of discontent.”

Not now? Fine. Rejoice now, instead.

 

Things are looking up!

Things are looking up!

A call from RSC head of education for a mid-December coffee and chat; a request from 'The Annie Othen Show' to be a guest on “The Coffee Club” - a late morning chat show on BBC Radio Coventry; and an job offer for position as a freelance GSCE and A-level Drama Examiner (…welcome to the dark side…), and an evening out tonight with my precious DEB for The Vienna Festival Ballet’s production of “The Nutcracker” in Leamington Spa.

The start of Advent brings much-needed joy!!!