[Mother Church][11th May 1971]

[Redbook1:205A-D][19710511][Mother Church][11th May 1971]

11.5.71

Mother Church.

                                    The priestling

                                    dances on the alter-rail and sings:

                                    ‘I am the Light that life and comfort brings’.

                                    The audience roared;

                                    Their spirits soared.  The Spirit fled:

                                    ‘They say that God is dead:

                                    ‘See, see, he lives!

                                    ‘Here is the life that light and comfort gives!

                                    ‘Here is God!’

                                    Processional hymn:

                                    Slow chanting, hooded, flickering candle-light.

                                    The World is dizzy-bright;

                                    True life is dim.

                                    We kept our lives for God: we gave ourselves

                                    (‘We kept our lives ... ourselves’).

                                    Who spoke?!

                                    It’s only echo... oh...

                                    rebounding from the stony inner walls:

                                    Here is God.

                                    The Bishop speaks.

                                    Electrons blow his muted thunderous words

                                    in murmurous fluting tones

                                    beyond his breath:

                                    ‘So.  What is death?’

                                    Faint voice returns:

                                    ‘You are.’

                                    The crowd rustles, murmurs, wakes.

‘The Spirit burns!’ the voice calls back.  ‘It shakes, trembles:

it is Fire!’

                                    Do you feel it?  Do you, now?  Can you?

                                    The people remember: their loss:

                                    ‘Don’t give us talk you old sod

                                    Give us God!’

                                     The Oxbridge Social Friar

is having a little Tea:

we terribly much desire –

our hearts are all on fire –

to raise your souls on high... er...

that you will come to tea.

It’s jolly good fun, you’ll see.

Oh... and there’ll be a girl there, too:

a good sort.

                                    Solomon, Sexy.Sociable.Fascinating.

I love God.

A.B. of C.

Are you DEF?

Is Big G really dead?

have you been HI?

when they murdered JK

did you talk about ’L?

did you warn ’M?

NO.

P.Q.R., is it? – no S? – where are you?

T? – now? – no thanks...

who are U?

V have vays... haha!

W?? ... oh, I see: divided: torn apart... yes...

seX? Why?

-- I said.

Is God In?

We want to redevelop Cloister Row:

We’re told that flats with shops above would pay

(Today they say the Church must pay its way).

I’m very much afraid you’re going to have to go.

In God’s name.

From the Steps of Saint Peter’s I bring you good tidings

                        to lighten your hearts with an infinite joy.

            We know that God can’t tell us,

            but we think if he could tell us,

            this is what he would have told us,

            So this is what he told us:

Any form of intervention

In that miracle, conception,

Intending its prevention

By the means of contraception,

That Devil’s own invention,

Is quite out of the question.

‘Oh, my God.’

Come out over the City.

See what the eye sees: the swirling, shifting pattern of crowds.

Hear what the ear hears: meaningless noise, pure meaning.

Taste the mingled odours of the City.

Now: open your mind.

Do you know the People?

Do you know the pattern of the City?

Do you see, hear, smell, taste, feel it? –

‘I am God.’

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