The Death of Song ...

For publication in the Staffordshire Sentinel on October 14th 2015

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When the newly elected Leader of the Labour Party did not join in the singing of the National Anthem recently, it caused a bit of a stir.

But how many people are there who know the anthem off by heart? How many people even know it has three verses? Wayne Rooney, the England football captain, has admitted he has never sung the anthem, because he never learnt the words. Gary Linker too - who played for England 80 times - says he never joined in its singing.

And this his has nothing at all to do with patriotism. Most people can’t sing the National Anthem, because most people never sing. Like Wayne Rooney, they never learnt to sing. Communal Singing is a practice which is in danger of dying out.

We still hear crowds singing of course - Delilah at the Brittannia, The Wonder of You at Vale Park, Swing Low Sweet Chariot or Cwm Rhondda at Rugby matches - but even then we hear only a few words. These are hardly “songs”, they are more like ringtones - short distinctive snatches of song.
Even Christmas Carols lack the hold they once had. Few people could give you the second verse of Away in a Manger. Carol singing, round the streets from door to door, is now a very distant memory almost of a bygone age.

As a priest I am very well aware that singing is in serious decline. Though they want to, people struggle to choose songs for weddings and funerals - they just don’t know any.

Yet many of us remember when every school day would begin with choral singing. Every music lesson was filled with melody. Often these were Christians hymns - but there were plenty of other songs too. Oh yes, mischievous children would devise disrespectful and sometimes rude lyrics - but not because they didn’t enjoy singing - but because they wanted to make it even more fun. In the churches, especially the Methodists, so much part of the history of North Staffordshire - everyone sang with great gusto. And it wasn’t just churches: everyone enjoyed a sing-song. Men would sing in the pubs and farm workers would sing in the fields. There were bawdy songs, and ballads, and songs of protest familiar to Trades Unionists too. People grew up knowing shanties, and lullabies and carols. Melody helped memorise the words of poetry and verse. Generation after generation had this great heritage of shared song.

Not any more though.

Just like the boarded up pubs, and converted chapels, the heritage of communal song is rapidly becoming a distant and even quaint memory.

There are of course still some great choirs. We are lucky in North Staffordshire to have The Ceramic City Choir, the Daleian Singers, Wetley Rocks Male Voice Choir, and many others, including the Lorna Spode Consort who will be singing at our Annual Carol Service at Sacred Heart, Hanley this Christmas. Yet for all their skill and expertise, these are enthusiasts - communal singing is not an everyday activity.

And yet, it is such a great irony, that while we live in a world which is bombarded by recorded music of all kinds, it is mostly soloists, and hardly ever choirs that ring out their songs.

It will be a very sad loss to our culture, and our future, if communal singing is to continue in this sad decline.

Singing together helps foster friendships, cement communities, and bring happiness to so many people. It celebrates both our joys and our sorrows, expresses our hopes and affirms our identities and allegiances. You don’t even have to be good at it: in the larger choirs and congregations, the odd growler can even add a little texture and variety to the sound. Song lifts the spirit, and fills us a sense of belonging. And for religious people, it is singing - singing together and with others - that raises the heart to God and provides the most basic religious experience.

“He who sings well, prays twice,” said St Augustine, seventeen centuries ago. And so here is a thought - if we live in a society where song dies, perhaps we will never learn to pray.

The Greatest Day?

For publication in the Staffordshire Sentinel 15 July 2015. 

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Some might think that the life of a Priest is dull and boring and not a little humourless. Not at all. At least not if you are able to laugh at yourself. 

Let me explain …
Just a week ago, the second week in July, I celebrated a wedding in our lovely Church of the Sacred Heart, Jasper Street in Hanley.
The Bride is a regular at Mass, and over the time of preparation for their big day, I have come to know the couple well. Just a few days before the ceremony, we had the rehearsal and all was set for this wonderful day. Guests had travelled from as far afield as Zambia, and there was an excited, expectant air in the Church.
The Bride entered (almost on time) to the traditional Bridal March, and there were, during the service, the usual couple of hymns. Bride and Groom also asked for some recorded music, two pieces. The first,a song by Elbow, during the signing of the registers, and the second by Take That, as they processed out of the Church. I try to accommodate wishes if the music doesn’t detract from the prayers and worship itself, which these choices certainly didn’t.
So, fancying myself as something of an expert with technology, and possessing some of the latest devices, I downloaded the music requested, and set up both pieces to play on my smart phone, which I duly connected - by cable - to the Church’s sound system.
Now, my most recently acquired device, which I wear about my wrist, does several amazing things. One of these is telling the time (I know, astonishing isn’t it?). Another is that it acts as a remote control for my phone.
Great, I thought. Rather than walk to and from the sound system, I can control the music for the wedding from my wrist.
So, after the exchange of the vows, we moved to a table, in Our Lady’s Chapel inside the Church, to sign the registers. As rehearsed, I tapped the watch, and the music came in on cue. I could adjust the volume from my Wrist, pause and repeat the track if necessary. It worked perfectly.
After the registers, we returned to the main body of the Church to sing “Shine Jesus Shine”. The weather outside was a bit blustery, but in the Church there were plenty of smiles shining on the faces of family and friends.
The singing completed, I wished everyone well, congratulated the couple, encouraged a generous donation to the work of our Church - all the usual stuff - then gave God’s blessing to all those assembled.
The couple now linked arms, and waited for the Music - ‘The Greatest Day” by Take That - which would accompany their procession out of the Church.
Smiling, I tapped the face of the device on my wrist.
Silence.
I looked at the watch, grinning a little less, and tapped it again.
Still silence.
The couple smiled, indulgently. I shrugged my shoulders, apologised, and began to walk the short distance to the sound system, where the phone was connected.
There was a low muttering in the Church
And then - the music started to play. Relieved, I turned to the couple. The bride smiled with relief and then together, arm in arm, bride and groom turned to face the congregation and begin their procession.
It was at that point that a voice sang out through the sound system, loud and clear, not Take That, but Band Aid: “It’s Christmas Time …”
My embarrassment was complete, my face flushed, though thankfully the Church rang with laughter.
I rushed to the equipment, corrected the error and soon Take That were restored to their rightful place.

And the moral of tale (not that there need be one)? The Greatest Day? It's Christmas Time!



Do Dogs go to heaven?

For publication in the Staffordshire Sentinel 15 April 2015. 

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On Good Friday, our dog, Ben, died. A sad irony, you may think, that a Catholic priest should suffer a loss on the day of the death of Christ himself.

Ben and his surviving brother, Joe, Cavalier King Charles, have been part of our household since they came to us as tiny, cute, charming puppies almost 10 years ago.
We will miss Ben very much. If you have lost a dear pet you will understand this. From a youngster with boundless energy, and appetite to match, he grew and grew and became comfortable in his easy routine of meat, treats and snoozing. Cavaliers snore very loudly, so we always knew where he was. When the Archbishop came to visit I didn’t think it would matter that the two were asleep in the room where we met - until we tried to make ourselves heard over snores more characteristic of hippopotamuses than small dogs. Whenever we called Ben’s name his tail would be heard banging loudly on the floor - no need for him to run and meet us (far too much effort). He would lie still on the floor, raising only his eyelids to spy the scene with cautious curiosity. No point in putting himself out …
Unless of course, it involved food, not just the meals which were set before him, nor the far too many snacks and treats, but also food left for his brother, scraps which had tumbled to the floor, cooked meats deep in bags of shopping and even - when young and lively enough to manage it - the leftovers in the kitchen bin.
He wasn’t the brightest dog ever. If his water bowl ran low he would turn it over and scratch at the floor to search for more. Not much a problem-solver, our Ben.
Yet of course, we loved him - especially my wife, whose dog he really was - and we remember him now with great affection, and of course sorrow.
For those who have never shared their lives with companion animals it may be hard to understand. Yet if you have had a pet, you know very well the pain of loss, which is not so very different from a human bereavement.

So what can I, as a priest, say about this?

After all, when we lose a loved one, faith provides a reassurance that there is a hope of life beyond this life, that love is greater even than death. Isn’t this message of Good Friday? And Easter Day? That however great the loss, even greater is the power of Love, the power of God?

So do dogs go to heaven? Do animals have souls?

Here is a theological controversy in which my wife and I take different sides.

With St Thomas Aquinas I say No. Only human beings have rational souls. Only human beings sin, only human beings need to be redeemed.

My wife, on the other hand says Yes. Dogs do have souls. They do go to heaven. (Of course).

Though our views aren’t so far apart.

Many people find it hard to believe in the Resurrection, which Christians celebrated on Easter Day, because they see it in much too narrow a way. A person dying and coming back to life? These things just don’t happen - or if they do there is some kind of rational explanation. How can this be the basis for a whole religion?

But the Resurrection is much more than the anniversary of an historical event. Resurrection is not just about one human being, or even every human being, but about the whole of creation. The Resurrection is Jesus “making all things new” (Revelation 21:5). The power of Love is so strong, that death and sickness and pain and suffering and wickedness and loss are all overcome.

So yes, for once my wife is right: you will find dogs in heaven.