The End of the Tenth Doctor

With the passing on of the 10th Doctor we have lost probably the best actor - David Tennant - who has played the role so far, and the best script writer - Russell T Davies. I think it has been Davies's plots and scripts that have made the recent series so majestic. The number of interweaving story lines that leave their motifs dotted through the series is comparable to Wagner's 'Ring' cycle of operas. They have brought a unity to the individual episodes that is quite biblical in proportion.

I watched the last episode with my children and was moved by the Doctor's last words before his regeneration: "I don't want to go." That phrase tore at the heart strings because it contains the thought that we all probably have as we face our mortality and have to come to terms with leaving behind the people we love and the experiences we have enjoyed.

I believe that Russell T Davies is an atheist, but he has brought many fundamental values that Christians hold into his stories, particularly that of self-sacrifice. When The Doctor confronted the Master in the previous encounter, he was willing to give his life so that The Master could be redeemed. Even in this last episode he was willing to give his life to save The Master, and when The Master refused, then The Doctor was prepared to die to safe Wilf, the old soldier he had met on earth - a 'nobody' in one sense, but 'everyman' in another sense and worth saving.

You don't have to look very far to see echoes of Jesus' great sacrifice here. Even The Doctor's appearances to his previous companions seemed to owe something to the accounts in John's Gospel of Jesus' resurrection appearances to his disciples. Although The Doctor had not yet regenerated before these appearances I suppose you could say that he had been through a death experience in the radiation chamber when he was saving Wilf.

Russell T Davies and David Tennant both leave very large shoes to fill. I hope those that come after them will do just as well. I'm sure in years to come people will ask, "Where were you when the Tenth Doctor died?"

'A poem lovely as a train'

'I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree,' wrote AJ Kilmer in 1914.

For pure poetry in motion, I would substitute 'steam locomotive' for 'tree', but I can't make it rhyme. Any ideas?

By the way, this is Clan Line passing through Coulsdon South on 9th December.

The aim of music

Two institutions of great value came together together: BBC Radio 4 lunchtime broadcasts, and JS Bach's Mass in B minor. Lunchtime radio is a gem, and one of my great delights about working from home is being able to listen to it during the week. Today there was a programme about the original manuscript of Bach's Mass in B Minor. You might think it would need the visual medium of TV to show the manuscript, but it was described by the participants in the programme with such passion and clarity that TV would have added nothing.

The manuscript has been in the Berlin State Library for 250 years and those who were looking at it said that they could almost hear the music bouncing off the page, the handwriting of the 63 year old Bach being so full of life and energy.

'The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul,' said Bach. What an amazing man - possibly the greatest creative genius in western civilization, and yet at the same time one of the most humble whowas prepared to work for masters he described as 'strange folk with very little care for music in them.' A man full of grace and truth (like someone else much greater).

Today so-called celebrities with less real creative talent than Bach had in his little finger demand that we pay attention to them, and they employ agents to make sure they are continually in the media spotlight. How different for Bach who, having written his Mass - surely one of the greatest musical works of all time - possibly never heard it performed in his own lifetime. It wasn't printed until well into the 19th century, and only became known universally after Mendelssohn revived it nearly a century after Bach's death.

The screams of the audience for 'The X Factor' will be forgotten long after Bach's music continues to bring glory to God, and to refresh the soul.

A History of Christianity

I've been fascinated by Diarmaid MacCulloch's majesterial TV series 'A History of Christianity'. It is very much his own 'take' on the historyof the faith and one that not all would agree with. Nevertheless, he has explored some areas that are usually overlooked in western Christianity, such as the expansion of the eastern church into China in the 7th century, long before Marco Polo and later Jesuit missionaries.

In the latest episode about the Reformation he made a very interesting point about the nature of protestantism being one which questions authority, and in that questioning are the seeds of protestantism's fracture into many different groups. It made me think about the way protestant Christians think about and debate contentious issues such as human sexuality. It is hardly surprising that, given protestantism's questioning character and background that there are many different views all claiming some authority - whether of the bible or modern reason.

Which is better - to be part of a monolithic church that stifles individual thought, or to be part of a church that is divided? It's not easy, but I suppose God has given us enough wisdom and the gift of his Holy Spirit to know when to agree and when to differ, and how to carry on together. I, for one, would rather live with a few grey areas than be in a church that tries to be so black-and-white that it becomes yet another protestant sect.

1st World War heroes

Today I am remembering my grandmother's only brother, Horace Ingham MC, who was killed in 1918, in France. He was the only son of his father, and brother to four sisters. His father was a successful businessman in Manchester and I wonder how many hopes he had of Horace joining him in the business.

We have a tin box at home containing the original telegram from the War Office giving the news of Horace's death, and all the letters of condolence from friends and colleagues, many of whom had also lost sons and brothers. One can sense the real feelings of grief and despair behind the formal rather masculine words. We also have Horace's notebook from the trenches, with mud on it. Not very interesting reading in itself, but a personal link with such a terrible loss of life.

When my grandmother was ill in hospital in 1976 suffering from dementia she confused my father with her brother Horace. After nearly 50 years she still thought of her older brother and missed him. How many other women must have grieved for brothers, husbands and boyfriends for all those years.

Sadly there are many today going through the same painful bereavement. I hope that what our troops are doing in Afghanistan will not be in vain, and that their brave work will make the world safer for all of us.

Steve Reich in London

Last night I was at a concert in the Royal Festival Hall of music by the American composer Steve Reich. He's described by some as the most influential living composer. His music - at least the music of his that I know - replaces conventional melody with what I would call 'micro-melody', that's to say short melodic fragments that are part of a larger harmonic and rhythmic structure. His most famous work - Music for 18 Musicians - presents a kaleidescope of sound with its ever changing chords and patterns. Some call it boring (I had to go alone to this concert as no-one else from my household was keen)but I find it fascinating. When you see the musicians performing on stage you realise that although the music may sound automated, there is actually a large degree to which the musicians control the performance - for example by how long the clarinets can play a particular phrase before needing to breath. When they breath the pattern changes.

I could go on, but listen to a clip and I hope you'll see what I mean.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xU23LqQ6LY4

'For all the saints...'

Today we got to sing my favourite hymn: 'For all the saints, who from their labours rest' (Note to NOK: I'll have this at my funeral, please.)It captures the spirit of Hebrews 11 in which the writer rehearses a long list of godly people who kept the faith even at the expense of their own death. I am always humbled and moved by that passage and by the hymn as I consider how many faithful people have followed their Lord Jesus Christ all the way, from Bishop Polycarp of Smyrna who, when faced with the choice of recanting or death by burning, replied that he had faithfully served his Lord for 80 years and how could he desert him now. Or William Tyndale assassinated on the orders of Henry VIII because he wanted Englishmen to be able to read the bible in their own language, or Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Maximilian Kolbe killed by the Nazis, or Janani Luwum killed on Idi Amin's orders for defying that Uganda tyrant. The list goes on and on.

The hymn describes the fierce spiritual warfare God's people often face, but also sounds a note of hope of a better day.

But lo! There breaks a yet more glorious day;
the saints triumphant rise in bright array:
the King of glory passes on his way.
Alleluia, alleluia!

This isn't a vain hope, but a strong hope in the risen Lord Jesus Christ, the 'author and perfecter of our faith'. That's the hope that kept faithful persecuted Christians going in the past, and it's the same hope that keeps us and many persecuted Christians going today. Christians in Pakistan whose churches are burned down, or in Orissa in India set upon by militant Hindu mobs, or in Burma forced by state opposition to meet in seccret in the jungle, or in Egypt discriminated against by the state, or in North Korea imprisoned by a state that has tried to make the word 'God' illegal. I think of them when I sing

The golden evening brightens in the west;
soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest;
sweet is the calm of paradise the blest.
Alleluia, alleluia!