When Faith feels like Work

Earlier this week, I attended Parish Council meeting. These are epic sessions that last at least two and a half hours. I’m honoured to have been elected to serve the church in this way; but I must confess, that I do walk away from these sorts of encounters often wondering how on earth churches have survived as long as they have!

That’s the funny thing about Christianity. It has evolved into so many different/differing permutations over time, that while the basic tenets are fairly consistent, the expressions of this faith as varied as the people who express them.

So, it can be difficult when diverse Christians find themselves lumped together (lumbered with each other?) in one place, trying to make it work. When we each have our own individual views of how and why things should be done.

For us, as in most places I presume, a key issue is attracting a wider cross-section of the community and new members. (And somehow, less liturgy and more contemporary music is always the answer?)

The minute that the conversation takes this turn, I feel my mind glazing over, as it all begins to sound like work.

My job with the National Trust at Charlecote Park is centred on audience development, i.e., attracting a more diverse audience for the National Trust. I find myself pondering, often on a daily basis, how—and maybe even why--this is best achieved.

For me it’s a philosophical question.

I think it’s almost a contradiction in terms to say, ‘Let’s make this more accessible.’ If something has to be made more accessible, are you not essentially altering it and changing it into something else? A ‘something else’ that, if we’re being completely honest, it is not fundamentally.

I have seen this is every line of work/activity I’ve been in, this drive to make something, whether it’s Shakespeare, church or whatever, more accessible, appealing to a wider populace.

And my point, if I have one, is that there are instances in life where this push to accessibility isn’t a mandate, and I think I might admire that.

My first thought is Math/Maths. No one seemed to give a toss, when I was in school, whether I understood math or not. It was there for me to learn. Either I did or I didn't. Period/full stop.

Sure, I remember Physics classes where we did fun things with music, flames and Bunsen burners, but! You still had to wade through the periodic table and all the standard stuff first.

For a more pertinent example, last week as part of my community outreach efforts for the National Trust, I arranged for a party of staff, volunteers, family and friends from Charlecote to have a tour of new Gurdwara Sahib (Sikh temple) in Leamington Spa.

Our group of 25 were hosted by three members of the Gurdwara Sahib community who served as our volunteer tour guides for the evening.

After a short introductory talk on the Sikh faith, our hosts gave us a tour of the building, and led us to one of Diwans (prayer halls). As we all sat on the beautifully carpeted floor, our hosts invited us into conversation: "We are here for you. This is your moment to ask any questions you would like to ask about Sikhism." - our hostess, Harjinder, said.

Harjinder, Suni, and Jaspal shared their personal experiences and beliefs with our group, and led us in a frank discussion about Sikhism. Members of our group politely asked numerous well-informed and engaging questions, and this section of our visit lasted a good while. The openness and the give-and-take of this discourse was quite amazing.

"This is so important. The chief source of strife in this world is ignorance. This kind of dialogue changes that." - Suni said.

"This group is fantastic, you've helped me learn a few new things tonight!" - our second leader, Jaspal commented with a broad smile.

Following the discussion, our tour continued, and we were allowed to listen and observe a group young music pupils learning and performing traditional instruments.

We were then offered the opportunity to join in the hearing of the reading of the sacred text in the main prayer hall.

That was a truly amazing experience. Of course, I had no idea what was being said, but the doleful, incessant intonations of the leader had a familiar hypnotic quality not unlike Gregorian chant.

My point: During our visit, there was an exploration, a welcome, an openness and a willingness to share; but there was no overstated attempt to make the surrounds, the environment , etc. “more accessible” to me our any of our party.

It was, what it was.

No translation of the sacred text was offered, so that I could understand what was being said. I was merely offered an opportunityto appreciate it for and as an experience. And of course, there was no proselytizing.

To be sure, there were several white/non-Asian Sikhs in the community, so it is a faith open to anyone, yet, during our visit no one felt compelled to “push” their ideas upon us.

As a result, I am wondering if one would probably be more likely to go back for a repeat visit because of this lack of promotion?

I have been plagued by this thought since the visit. Perhaps, I’m beginning to wonder, if the “recruiting” aspects of worlds I inhabit in my work life and faith life are somewhat misguided, however well-intentioned?

Our chat session at the Gurdwara Sahib

Choosing wisely

You know you’ve married the right man when…

He buys you a set of fish knives & forks for your first wedding anniversary and thinks it's utterly romantic … and so do you!

This past weekend, the DEB and I had just celebrated our first wedding anniversary – (can it really have been a year already?!) – and we had an incredible time.

Anniversary cake and cupcakes

(in our wedding colours)

Our rellies from up North came and joined us, dividing their time between our new house and that of the DEB’s brother, The Guru. It was absolutely wonderful playing hostess to Uncle C. and Auntie D.

They arrived late afternoon on Thursday, and after getting them settled, I launched into Domestic Goddess mode. I prepared my first "dinner for the family". The trout was a huge success. Here is the recipe I used:

Tangy Trout

4 trout fillets

100g breadcrumbs

1 tbsp butter, softened

1 small bunch parsley, chopped

zest and juice of 1 lemon, plus lemon wedges to serve

25g pine nuts , toasted and half roughly chopped

3 tbsp olive oil

Method

Heat the grill to high. Lay the fillets, skin side down, on an oiled baking tray. Mix together the breadcrumbs, butter, parsley, lemon zest and juice, and half the pine nuts. Scatter the mixture in a thin layer over the fillets, drizzle with the oil and place under the grill for 5 mins. Sprinkle over the remaining pine nuts, then serve with the lemon wedges and a potato salad.

(I cooked the trout for a bit longer than suggested, and served with beetroot and spinach salad; asparagus; new potatoes and a parmesan cheese sauce.)

Our Darling Nephew, H., turned up for a surprise visit, and Hostess-with-the-Mostest that I am (or strive to be), I always have a bundle of sausages and a packet of chips at the ready in case he drops by. That's his favo(u)rite meal!

On Friday, the DEB and I took Uncle C. and Auntie D. to Charlecote Park for the day; and met up with The Guru and his partner,The Guru-ette, for an evening meal at The Peacock, an award-winning Warwickshire pub in the tiny village of Oxhill. Splendid.

Saturday was a busy-ish day, with last minute preparation for the Big Anniversary Bash on Sunday.

As noted in my “How should we celebrate our first anniversary?” poll, I was stuck on what would be the best way to commemorate the day. This is where gurus come in handy. A random conversation over dinner with The Guru in April, inspired me to opt for an evening “do” with a twist: Fancy Dress.

Who doesn’t love getting into costume?

Finally, my dream came true: a “We Are the 80s” fancy dress party! (Any excuse to remember the 80s, and dress up as Madonna is a good one as far as I’m concerned.)

The DEB glammed up nicely as Adam Ant, in full Prince Charming/Highwayman regalia – 'Stand and Deliver', indeed! And, I scoured the internet and successfully pulled together a Madonna “Like A Virgin”(MTV Music Awards 1984) outfit.

I found a designer, who calls herself “Princess Petticoat”, via eBay UK who custom-made a copy of Madge's iconic, billowy, white skirt. It was absolutely dreamy!

And, who isn’t a fool for tulle?

Princess Petticoat’s other specialty is custom-made versions of Carrie Bradshaw’s little tulle skirt from 'Sex & the City'. (Check her out on eBay UK!)

The party was a huge success, even the weather cooperated! Everyone really went for it. That’s the thing about Fancy Dress/Costume parties, it is so much more fun/funny when people make the effort and go all out. And in this regard, I was not disappointed in the least!!

Mr. and Mrs. Chef as 'Suzy Quattro' and 'Slash'

'Andrew Ridgeley' from Wham! and 'Adam Ant'

I have to say the very best moment was when the extended DEB family turned up en masse, and enacted a grand entrance through the garden. They came around the corner individually, for full effect to resounding gales of glee and applause.

The Guru-ette had fooled us all by saying that she was anti-Fancy Dress, and planned to take her cue from the Nirvana song “Come as you are”. She bowled us all over by turning up as Kelly McGillis’ leggy, blonde character from the quintessential 80s movie, Top Gun!

The other surprise was Auntie D. and Uncle C. representing "the definitive couple of the 80s”: Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher.

Even so, top prize had to go to The Guru who struck terror and admiration in the hearts of all the guests as a frighteningly uncanny Gene Simmons.

There is an old proverb that says: “In birth, we have the family we are given; in marriage we acquire the family we deserve.” I’m happy to say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this proverb is true!

My family, ladies and gentlemen, my family:

'Ronald Reagan', 'Gene Simmons' (from Kiss), 'Graeme Souness' (legendary Liverpool Footballl captain), 'Kelly McGillis' (from Top Gun) and 'Mrs. Thatcher'

Cyndi Lauper in full voice - "Girls just wanna have fun!"

The DEB and I had an "Anniversary First Dance" (to the appropriately 80s theme from Starlight Express); and I “performed” the ‘Like a Virgin’ video for the DEB, in front of everyone…well, after the Vicar had gone home, of course!

(NB. The Vicar came dressed as "Blackadder", Mrs. Vicar won the "Most Creative Costume Idea" award for coming as "an extra from the film Ghandi; Their Son thrilled us all with his impression of Freddie Mercury from the group Queen.)

“The first year of marriage is often considered the year of adjustment. As you celebrate this special 1st wedding anniversary, reflect on the both the delicate and hardy aspects of your marriage and of your love for one another.” – Sheri & Bob Stritoff

According to tradition, first wedding anniversary gifts are of Paper. However, more moderns trends are for practical gifts that reflect, as marriage gurus Sheri & Bob Stritoff put it, “the delicate and hardy aspects” of one’s marriage and love.

The DEB and I attempted to capture a bit of both traditional and modern aspects in our gifts choices for each other. We gave each other 'hardy', practical gifts: I bought the DEB a pair of (sexy to me) Hunter wellies for men; and he gave me a pair of (sexy to him) women's Craghopper trousers for our holiday adventures, and the Robert Welch 'Fish service' I have been coveting for over a year!

My 'delicate' gift from the DEB was a precious bouquet of a dozen, long stemmed, red roses. I combined the delicate concept with the traditional 'Paper' idea by buying the DEB an antiquarian book of old English ballads and folk tunes.

I have found the one whom my soul loves.

- Song of Solomon, 3:4

Where I work...

My first day at Charlecote Park, I thought I was dreaming...

It is such a magic and idyllic place.

Since then, I have struggled with the best way to share it with you. 

As words seem to escape me, I thought it best to show you...

The Charlecote deer, doing what they do best -- being arrestingly beautiful. 

A view of "West Park" from the staff gate

The oldest tree in Charlecote Park - 450 years old. Isn't she grand?

The walk to the Gate House from the public entrance

Gainfully employed

At last, at last  -- I have a job!

March has been an action-packed month, and I have scarcely been able to keep up.

First, I am finally gainfully employed.  After nearly two years of self-doubt and weeping, I have finally set a foot in the right direction, and regained a sense of self-respect.

This is not to say that I was unhappy or dissatisfied with my lot as a Housewife-Writer-and-Freelance-Shakespeare-Scholar. No, I have enjoyed that life very much, and still do!

But, there is just something in my Puritan DNA that would not, could not rest without a sense of active, lucrative employment.

I have come by my work ethic organically. My father was a tireless professional. He never seemed to stop working. To be honest, I can count the number of bona fide vacations/holidays my parents had (i.e., ones that were purely for relaxation and/or recreational purposes, as opposed to work-related ones) on one hand, and have six fingers left over. That is to say, the number is less than negligible.

To my parents’ generation, Work in a very traditional sense, (i.e., having a job, actively pursued during business hours, that pays you a regular wage) was a matter of pride and respectability. It was a badge of honour, a sign of maturity, proof of ones position as a contributing member of society.

As a result, my allowance was ‘earned,’ and tied to the efforts I had made around the house: cleaning my room; helping my mother with garden; folding clothes; polishing silver, and so on. And, it could be withheld and/or withdrawn based on occupational performance.

I must confess that I resented my friends, many of whom by my estimation, lived the life of Riley, and were given nice allowances for just being themselves, with little or no effort at all on their part.

I was also encouraged to join the workforce before many of my friends did, as well. I began babysitting professionally at the age of nine; and even spent a very lucrative, teenage, summer holiday as a live-in nanny/babysitter for several families in suburban Phoenix, Arizona.

Looking back, I have no regrets. I had some wonderful experiences, and had the joy of earning “my own money”. Of course, wages for baby-sitting or working at "The Record Rack" in the mall were ridiculously low, but the amount of money was not the point, the point was earning it.

This ethos is still with me today. As an academic, I have never earned a great deal of money, but even so, I have always been quite proud of having a good job, and one that I enjoyed.

Relocating to England provided me with a real opportunity to re-evaluate my relationship with work. To explore and uncover what it is I really want to do with my life. 

It has been a blessing to get off the academic treadmill, and take some time for myself. The D.E.B. has been quite proud and supportive of my aspirations and desire to write.

As if in response to the sentiments Virginia Woolf, expressed profoundly in her work, A Room of Ones Own, the D.E.B. has given me the space, support and freedom to write. 

At times, this incredible opportunity has felt a little like the sort of gift that prompts the view, ‘be careful what you wish for’.  Over the past year and a half, I have applied a considerable amount of pressure on myself to achieve something, anything, with my writing, and quickly.

But, of course, writing is not a pursuit that one follows with any sort of haste. My impatience in this regard has been coupled with an overwhelming desire to be a “team player,” to be a contributing member of my new and wonderful marriage.

So, this being my life, these two points have converged at the same time. Just when my writing has started to take off – e.g., my newly minted monthly column in Warwickshire Life; and, acquiring an agent for the cookbook, successfully and finally. (!!!)

And now -- the offer of a part-time job with the National Trust! I’ll be working at Charlecote Park, in the area of community engagement and audience development. I am absolutely thrilled! I positively adore Charlecote Park, and am a huge, huge fan of the National Trust.

The job will call upon my skills as an educator, arts administrator, librarian, theatre director, creative thinker, problem solver, and lover of history. Fabulous.

“I do worry for your writing,” my dear friend Julia said softly down the phone. (I miss her terribly, since she and her husband, Robert, moved from Barford.)

Truth be told, I worry for my writing, too. This post with the National Trust is just the sort of job I relish, and one in which I could ever so easily lose myself…

However, my hope is that instead of hindering my creative spirit, this new role will inspire me, and provide the discipline and structure to my craft that I so desperately need.