Whit Walks
Feb. 24th, 2009 10:17 amAilz just bought a scooter. It arrived this morning. I had to help the delivery man- still in my pajamas and dressing gown- carry the enormous box into the house.
"I can ride to church in it", said Ailz, "And take part in the Whit Walk".
That made me panic. I'd forgotten the Whit Walk was coming. The Whit Walk is a north country thing- so not part of my heritage at all. Every Whit Sunday the churches dust off their banners, hire a marching band and parade their membership round the streets with the kiddies in uniform- scouts, guides, church lads, whatever- swinging along like the Hitler Youth. It's sectarian, triumphalist, tribal. My skin crawls at the thought.
"So, I'll have the scooter," says Ailz. "I don't need you to come along. You can stand on the pavement and wave."
Here's where we differ. Ailz really likes the idea of being caught up fully in the life of the church. And I..... don't. I'm not a team player. I'm going to church because....
1. I feel the need to stand up and say, "Fuck you, Richard Dawkins!"
2. I'm in the process of embracing- and forgiving- my younger self.
3. I like the idea of having some links to the local community.
But that's it. I'm not a Christian. I don't in the least regret having hung up my cassock a quarter century ago. My position is delicate, contradictory, false.
I wish I could suspend my niggling and just relax into the situation- all cool and zen- but I can't. God gave me a brain and I use it for niggling. That's me. It's what I do. And I view Whit Walks- like so much else in the Christian tradition- as a monstrous lapse in taste. Here it comes then, the monstrous, tasteless thing- like an end of level Boss- and I can't just go round it.
Or can I?
"I can ride to church in it", said Ailz, "And take part in the Whit Walk".
That made me panic. I'd forgotten the Whit Walk was coming. The Whit Walk is a north country thing- so not part of my heritage at all. Every Whit Sunday the churches dust off their banners, hire a marching band and parade their membership round the streets with the kiddies in uniform- scouts, guides, church lads, whatever- swinging along like the Hitler Youth. It's sectarian, triumphalist, tribal. My skin crawls at the thought.
"So, I'll have the scooter," says Ailz. "I don't need you to come along. You can stand on the pavement and wave."
Here's where we differ. Ailz really likes the idea of being caught up fully in the life of the church. And I..... don't. I'm not a team player. I'm going to church because....
1. I feel the need to stand up and say, "Fuck you, Richard Dawkins!"
2. I'm in the process of embracing- and forgiving- my younger self.
3. I like the idea of having some links to the local community.
But that's it. I'm not a Christian. I don't in the least regret having hung up my cassock a quarter century ago. My position is delicate, contradictory, false.
I wish I could suspend my niggling and just relax into the situation- all cool and zen- but I can't. God gave me a brain and I use it for niggling. That's me. It's what I do. And I view Whit Walks- like so much else in the Christian tradition- as a monstrous lapse in taste. Here it comes then, the monstrous, tasteless thing- like an end of level Boss- and I can't just go round it.
Or can I?
no subject
Date: 2009-02-24 01:52 pm (UTC)I was afraid they'd all died out. And yes, they probably are tribal and all those other things, but it was a genuine piece of working class traditional culture and everyone had fun. We girls always got a new dress and a new pair of summer shoes, which we were allowed to wear for the first time at the Whit walks.
It was a case of marking out one's territory and displaying one's members, but there was never any trouble and those banners were a mark of great pride and it was an honour for the men to carry them.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-24 04:41 pm (UTC)It's just not me. Marching bands, uniforms- they give me the creeps.