Grade 1

I recently attended a seminar hosted at an FE college entitled 'Aspirations for a Grade 1 Lesson'. By way of background, when a college is inspected, one of the things which happens is that lectures (lessons) get inspected and graded. Grade 1 is 'outstanding', 2 is very good, 3 is satisfactory, 4 is pants and 5 is absolute crap. Some colleagues and I were given the chance to
observe a lesson which was rated at Grade 1, in an effort to spur us all on to do likewise in our lessons.
The lesson topic was called 'Sustainability', and formed part of an 'enrichment programme' which learners undertook alongside their main programme of study, the idea being that they became informed about Green Issues. The lesson was at Level 2 (kind of GCSE equivalent). The preparation which had gone into this lesson (and making it of grade 1 standard) was staggering. There were several different forms of media on which to focus - laminated picture cards stuck on the wall, projected images, handouts (more on this later), and various arty / crafty things to do. The students made a bag from an old tea-towel, in which to store spare carrier bags. There was also a quiz whereby the winner would receive sweets or chocolate cake. Apparently it had taken 2 days to prepare this hour-and-a-half lesson. Students discussed the benefits of buying (so called) 'free range' chickens at Tescos, re-using carrier bags, not printing documents needlessly, turning off the tap whilst brushing teeth, not filling the kettle up too much - you know the kind of thing - basically rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. There was no mention of Kyoto / USA / China, solar / wind energy, oil reserves, etc. Fair-Trade got a mention, but not what it was, nor the opportunities for corruption which it offers to unscrupulous manufacturers. There was nothing to encourage learners to 'think big', not opportunities for free thought, it was just another poxy exercise in guilt management. How to become part of the disease whilst feeling you're part of the cure.

So, the content was bunk. Absolute shite. Students came away from the session knowing nothing about the real issues affecting climate change, and global sustainability, without knowing anything about how to think on and engage with these issues.

However, because the lesson had Aims and Objectives; because various media was employed, because students basically were entertained for an hour-and-a-half, it was given a Grade 1.

What the hell is education about?! The focus is clearly on how students learn, at the complete expense of what they learn! Its farcical.

What made it worse was the sheer amount of single-side printed paper issued as handouts! nearly 20 sheets per student! So not only was the content wrong, but it also contradicted itself!!!

Stairway to Heaven

I grew up in a Christian home; my father was a baptist minister, but also a lover of rock'n'roll, country and folk music. One of the things I always found confusing, yet interesting, was the difference (and parallels) between my fathers sermons and the lyrics of some of the music we had on in the home. He was a great fan of Bob Dylan, the Beatles, John Lennon and the Rolling Stones. So on Sunday mornings we'd sing Bind us together with cords that cannot be broken; yet mid week we'd hear “I Can't Get No Satisfaction”, and “Imagine” (there's no heaven). The message on Sundays was so strong – be in the world but not of the world; be transformed by the renewing of your minds, do not be yoked with unbelievers, yet the sounds I was hearing all apparently belonged to unbelievers (Bob Dylan's “Saved” years notwithstanding). I struggled with the question for years – should I really be listening to music about lust, pain, beauty, searching, drugs, wonder, – music of the flesh, as it was referred to in church circles; should I be listening to the blues, hard rock, gangster rap, motown, soul.

Soul – there's a word! The human soul was such a dangerous place to explore, as the devil could easily be found lurking there, prowling, waiting to pounce on anyone who became entranced by such worldly music. Worldly, secular, soulish, experiential, non-Christian music was so good, so tempting, surely the forbidden fruit. As the late Larry Norman put it – 'why should the devil have all the good music, when Jesus is a'rockin' and rollin' my blues away!'. Perhaps that was the answer – find good wholesome Christian alternatives – Stryper, KingsX, Keith Green and latterly Delerious?. But none of these could slake my thirst for music with soul. It was like trying to drink wine from a bottle of Evian, trying to eat a nut roast while craving a chateaubriand. But the guilt I would feel after lengthy indulgence into the Led Zeppelin, Santana and Jimi Hendrix discographies would be almost unbearable. Almost. Perhaps the devil was getting a grip on my soul. Was I becoming un-saved? Was I backsliding? It felt so good. The wide road to destruction? As Bonn Scott from AC/DC put it “I'm on my way to the promised land – I'm on a highway to hell'

For me there was no getting away from the fact that music, and therefore the devil, had a hold on my life. It would move me in ways nothing else could, in ways even I completely failed to understand. I remember being 9 years old and being completely moved to tears when I heard Joan Baez sing the Prison Trilogy. It still has a similar effect on me now!

I hadn't yet seen the inside of a cell, let alone be able to understand the desolation of someone incarcerated. Yet something about this song enabled me to guess as to the pain of the three men in the story. Something enabled me to share in this pain, and as an act of worship, I invite you to do the same. - look it up on Spotify

The depth of emotions explored through the music of the folk and country balladeer informed me a great deal about the human condition. Irish folk music was another particular favourite of my father; songs about potato famine, invasion, sectarian violence, people being hurt by the hands of those who were supposed to protect them, all etched a place deep in my soul. I had the privilege of touring Ireland with a pop band, and met folks in the various places we stayed. The most memorable being in Belfast during a ceasefire in 1995 when I had the opportunity at the after-show wind-down to ask one of the fans, a young girl about 20, whether the troubles had affected anyone she knew.
“everyone” was the answer
“even you?”
“my father and brothers were all shot in front of us, on a Sunday afternoon while we were forced to watch”
A Sunday, Bloody Sunday which the remainder of that family will carry for ever.

I think it was at that point that I started to realise that church and religion was not God.

It was also around that time when I first heard Jeff Buckley's rendition of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah; and from that point on, the notion of a cold and broken hallelujah became a caption for my faith. In church we used to sing about fighting the good fight, moving onward as Christian soldiers, conquering nations, and such. When I heard that 'Love is not a victory march, its a cold and its a broken hallelujah', a light went on. Perhaps God wasn't so much in the victory marches, the crusades, the moral high ground, the blessed, the prosperous, the songs of euphoric adulation, songs which set us up as a 'chosen people, a royal priesthood', and as ultimately elite. Go have a listen. Ignore the Alexandra Burke version at all costs. She missed the most important verse out, leaving the rendition lacking complete coherence.

No, it is my experience that God manifests most significantly in areas of pain, despair, wilderness. My early understanding of Christianity was that if someone was in pain, and if they were a Christian, then God would be near them, and somehow make the pain more bearable. However, those poor souls who were not Christians had to experience the pain without God; that somehow God was looking on and unable to do anything about their pain unless they uttered the magic words of the “sinner's prayer”. I clearly had a lot of working out to do, and music was critical in enabling me to think all this through.

One particularly significant song which enabled me to see the trade mark of a God of creativity was in “Everybody Hurts” by REM

Surely if God was the creator, and if God's very being, the raison d'etre was creativity then why should things which are created be attributed to the devil?

I was in a band. A rock band. With my mates. We wrote and played music in every spare minute we had. We wrote songs about things we loved, attitudes we hated, girls, boys, corruption, the monotony of the daily grind as we all drove our delivery vans around London. Our music became our church, and there we discovered an oasis, a place from which we could drink the water of life, and share it with others. It was our piece of heaven in a wilderness of a life we were all struggling to understand.

Have a listen

However, we were to sign a big publishing deal – something which would extend the invitation to the party at the oasis to a wider audience; but money started to become the topic of the day. It was a matter of weeks before the band folded, and its members cast back out into the wilderness of depression.

This was a great relief to the Christian folks I knew, who would repeatedly tell me that the band was obviously “not part of God's plan”; that the depression I was suffering was a result of the sins of “nihilism” and “hedonism” I'd committed whilst being a member of a rock band. I needed to repent and be delivered, so I could be welcomed back to the fold. I had to renounce my association with other nihilists and hedonists, and was advised to rid my beloved record collection of anything with the satanic back beat, anything which belonged to Lucifer (which, it appeared, was most of it), and to concentrate all my efforts into evangelism and discipleship.

I tried. I really did. But depression got the better of me and eventually God and I parted company (at least this was my take on things). I told God that, even if he or she did exist, that I was no longer willing to be in a relationship. I effectively dumped God. I did not understand the idea of a God who, through the combination of the physics of sound, and the depth of human emotion, through poetry and the audio spectrum, would give us music, yet refuse us Christians, the privilege of experiencing it to the full.

So, there I was, free again! My record collection was no longer off-limits. Out came the Rock, the Rap, the Reggae, the drum'n'bass, the house, hard-house, trance, grime-core, grunge, punk, new romantic, electro, downbeat, lounge, jazz, blues, soul, funk, folk, be-bop, ballad, welsh male-voice, baroque, classical, romantic, modern, medieval, thrash metal, alternative, gothic, avant garde, Bhangra, dub, bossa nova, breakbeat, britpop, Cajun, calypso, Celtic, ambient, electronica, IDM, hiphop, techno, new age, northern soul, old skool, minimalism, prog rock, raggamuffin, samba, ska, skiffle, speed garage, two tone, etc, etc, etc, etc. I chose not to choose church. I chose something else. I chose music.

But then something happened.

I started to recognise God's trade mark again. There was something about the creation and performance of music which seemed supernatural. There was something about the way that I connected with people through their music which transcended cultural identity, geographical location, religion, sexuality, ideology. It had to be God.

I was invited to attend a church service put on by a group of folks who were exploring life beyond charismatic evangelicalism. The service was called 'The Abbey', hosted by a group called “Resonance” (latterly “foundation”). The structure of Cotham Parish Church was divided into the various areas of a monastery, the dormitory, the infirmary, the sanctuary, the refectory, the library, and best of all, the scriptorium. We were invited to explore all these places and the special meanings they had, all set to a fabulous backdrop of music DJ'd by John Hoyland. This service was, for me, the turning point. It was in the scriptorium I meditated on creativity, and the nature of the connection between it and God. I started to realise that no matter who you are, where you're from, whatever your beliefs and persuasions, that your creativity comes from God, as a gift to your soul, to provide a vehicle for expression, and sharing.

This enabled me to see God, in music everywhere. I discovered a new beauty in music.

Head back over to Spotify, and have a listen to Home by Zero7. This song, with its haunting melody and harmonies, is to me quite God-like in its attention to detail and aspirations to perfection. Particularly in the way the recording and production is crafted and realised.

Nowadays, whenever I hear songs of pain, of joy, of love, of hate, of sorrow, of fear, of suffering, of overcoming, of longing, of searching, of regret, of loss, of redemption, of jealousy, of beauty and of hope, I hear God. I hear God identifying with and sharing in these emotions, and I believe that because God is in music, then when we indulge in music, we indulge into an aspect of God.

Sure, there is music which seeks to exalt success, money, celebrity, possessions, promiscuity, racial division, racial supremacy, anarchy, bling, and a disrespect for law enforcement. Do I see God in music of this nature?


Of course!


I see God in the recording and production, in the musicianship, in the mixing and mastering, in the years of hard training and low-paid apprenticeships people have gone through in order to be able to make the records and to make the equipment needed to make the records,. The lyrical content may not necessarily be to my tastes, but then I have no experience of growing up with gun lore on the streets of Compton, California, or of being sold into child sex abuse by my parents, or of being beaten for the colour of my skin, or of absolute rejection, or indeed many of the myriad ways in which bad things can shape attitudes to the world. So, the likes of Eminem, Rage Against the Machine, Snoop Dogg, and various other Bad Bwoy styles all frequent my playlist, and often at SPLs approaching anti-social!

This freedom of expression is, to me, the greatest gift and any religious attempts at thwarting it is, in my opinion, sacrilege.

Now, go and listen to Stairway to Heaven, and light a candle for hope. BTW, the Dolly Parton version is, I reckon, by far the best cover of this track; check it out on Spotify.

How do they do this?

Newfangled 3d video technology. Is this the future: interactive film?
YellowBird

Eyes to the good

It must be almost exactly the furthest away from greenbelt that its possible to be - time-wise, that is.
I've just completed editing and compiling the footage from Foundation @ NewForms Greenbelt 08 and its made me realise how much I'm looking forward to going to Greenbelt 09!
I've been to a variety of festivals over the years, but Greenbelt just seems to have it all! I've blogged about experiences at New Wine - a place where I felt very out of place - wondering if I was the little boy who suggested that the Emperor was in fact naked. I wonder if its possible for anyone to feel out of place at Greenbelt (save for hard-line fundamentalists! I met one actually, and he was becoming 'confused', which I did nothing to discourage!); it really is a place where anything goes. We met old friends, made new friends, heard happy stories, difficult stories, laughed, cried, drank organic beer and sang old raves in the Jesus Arms, danced, meditated, learned, shared, and loved! A particular high-point was when we were walking past said Jesus Arms where a particularly raucous sing-along was getting into full swing - the DJ playing old 80s pop. I've never heard a gathering erupt so much as when they burst into the chorus of The Proclaimers' '500 Miles'! You could actually feel the ground shaking as folks jumped around spilling beer and singing / shouting along! What an atmosphere!
There were shirts and ties, tie-dies, short-back-and-sides, pink and green mohicans , sensible outdoor wear, cross dressers, all manner of body-art, gay people, straight people, old people, young people, hooligans, bohemians, musicians, artists, people camping in an old Routemaster double decker, lots of goatees and pony-tails, flip-flops, wellies, anything!
The music was varied and often spectacular. Michael Franti (ex of Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, and Spearhead) was particularly brilliant with his infectious blend of hiphop, soul, funk, rock and rap.
The more I remember about last year, the more I'm looking forward to this year!!!

I think what was so special about it was the fact that so much diversity was so happy to coexist, and there was a real spirit of everyone looking in the direction of something transcendent; tolerance of, no celebration of differences with eyes to the good.

Ice, Salt and Motorbikes

It was cold on the bike this morning. Very cold. -6 degrees, in fact.
I ride a BMW, which has heated handlebar grips - a real help. I had
to stop for fuel at a motorway services, and felt the bike slipping and sliding about as I rounded the turn-off into the service station. Upon paying for my fuel (a slightly more pleasurable experience than this time last year), I informed the staff that the road was extremely slippery, and could they get some more grit down, or there would be an accident.

I got back up to the roundabout, and was shocked to see a motorcyclist lying in the road about 20 meters away from his bike. Fortunately a fire officer on his way into work had stopped to help. In fact it was him who made the 999 call! We waited for what seemed like ages for the emergency services to arrive, so we talked to Matt (the motorcyclist), mainly to keep him conscious. We learned that his bike had slipped from under him on the ice, despite copious salt and grit. He'd hurt his neck quite badly and was unable to move his head. It was a humbling feeling helping the paramedics load him onto the stretcher. My dislike of icy roads has now developed into a hatred. The exposed metal work on my bike is also rapidly developing a hatred of the salt on the road. Looking forward to spring, and therefore a resolve to the current conflict of interest which exists between my bike and me. My thoughts and prayers are with Matt, a fellow biker, this evening. My thoughts also include the fact that I have yet to do the free first aid training course I've been offered - now top of my list!

Highway to (fundamentalist) Hell

I attended a child baptism service recently, where 6 children from 5 different families, along with parents and God-parents, packed the church to capacity. Balconies full, etc.

One of the things which always strikes me at these services is the fact that the visitors do not know the words to the 'worship' songs, and it is a bizarre sight to see from the front - all the 'regulars'singing their hearts out, whilst the visitors stand in awkward silence. I will post again about music in church - I doubt if Blogger has the server space to host that particular forthcoming rant...

Anyway, a chap came up to me after the service - an acquaintance of one of the baptism parties, and started complaining that there was not enough 'passion' and 'fire' in the service. He'd managed to convince himself that the only way people were going to 'get saved', whatever that means, is if people are told in no uncertain terms that unless they repent they will go to hell. I asked him if he had ever read the word 'hell' in the bible, and studied its origins. His response was that he'd 'read the bible loads of times'. (A friend later tried to tell me he'd read Lord of the Rings loads of times - I didn't believe him either)

Anyway, matey of the hellfire and brimstone said to me 'well you obviously don't believe the Bible do you?' I was going to launch into some heavy universalist theology, but instead suggested that perhaps its not all black and white. His response to me was:

'In that case you're not preaching the word of God, and you're going straight to hell too.' With that, he actually turned his back on me and walked off.

Cue AC/DC "Highway to hell"...

"Look at me
I'm on my way to the Promised Land,
I'm on the highway to hell
Highway to hell..." etc, etc

Ok, perhaps that is also not a good choice for visiting baptismal parties!

The fact, however, that some people need to take it upon themselves to inform people of their 'eternity of torture' should they 'choose' not to 'repent' absolutely terrifies and sickens me. This is psychological abuse, playing on peoples' inner-most sanctuaries. I can see no bigger barrier to spiritual freedom and encounter with the hope and love of a higher being than to preach this kind of crap. Worse still, imagine what damage this can cause to children! (BTW, matey's two teenaged children were with him at the time he damned me to hell, and witnessed the whole thing. Nice.)

I used to be a christian fundamentalist, and found it to be the most lonely, grey (too much black and white, perhaps?), restrictive existence I've ever known. I could not relate to people without a repentance/conversion agenda. I could not have 'real' friends (unless, of course they were also fundamentalists). When I became a fundamentalist, I had to turn my back on some of my closest friends, as I was told I could not associate with them. I became someone who persecuted homosexuals, someone who believed that sickness was probably a result of generational sin, someone who endorsed the repression (and modern day slavery) of women. I had to stop listening to rock music. I became very depressed, and am still coming to terms with the damage I caused to other people because of the way I spoke to them with my 'biblical authority'. All this I did for fear that if I did not, I would spend eternity in unimaginable pain and torture - because 'gentle Jesus' would not love me anymore. If that's the kingdom of Heaven, I'd rather go to the other place - its warmer and the music is better; I'd probably know more people, too!

The only thing which would give me some sense of purpose at that time in my life was to try and 'convert' other people to my faith - probably so as I did not feel so damned lonely. I wanted my friends to come with me. Fortunately their eyes were open, and they stood their ground. Many of them have also since forgiven me, now that I've finally seen the universal light - or sense!

I thank God, though, I had the sense not to burn my record collection!
There is something about that particular AC/DC song which ironically speaks to me of hope! The song seems like a cry of rebellion to the fundamentalist movements around at that time which still finds a loud resonance with me today. Actually the song is about a road junction on Bonn Scott's route to his local, which saw several bad accidents, and about spending weeks on a tour bus with the bass players smelly feet in your face!

Basically, if you are someone that feels the need to tell me I'm going to Hell, then you, mate, are probably already living there. I will light a candle for you - I know your pain.




For those of you who don't know the song, turn your system up to 11 and enjoy!

Britain has got talent!

Having been dissapointed with a lot of what I've seen on shows like X Factor, 2 nights ago I was just blown away by one of the acts on Britain's Got Talent.
Flava are a dance troupe from Cornwall. Check this out, and pay particular attention to Simon's comments at the end.


This guy was a bit special, too. Simon got this badly wrong, as you'll see!