On Monday morning, I enjoyed a nice warm shower, which made me only a little late for the Taize service in Centaur. I was happy to see it so well attended and was also impressed by the simple and colourful stage scenery of drapes, candles and a Taize cross. All this really took me back to worshipping at Taize itself as a teenager. I was somewhat dismayed to find that I couldn’t sing the chants quite as well as I had at the practice two days beforehand.
Once the service finished, it was time to implement Operation G-Rob, which sounds interesting, but really just involved me staying in my carefully chosen seat near the back of the upper level and wait for gay bishop Gene Robinson to begin his next talk, thus bypassing my having to exit Centaur and queue up just to get back in again. I felt slightly guilty at attempting such an underhanded queue-dodging tactic, but I consoled myself with the fact that the queue-jumpers at Rob Bell’s talk were worse and that the woman next to me during Taize (who was middle-aged, and therefore should have known better) was attempting the same thing. Unfortunately, I think those meddling stewards foresaw our ruse and made sure the venue was cleared out after Taize. My middle-aged partner in crime and I just ignored the steward and stayed seated. We might have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for her white jumper that marked her out clearly (and me, by association) from our dark coloured seats. At least I had dressed in black in preparation. Seeing us, the steward repeated his request for people to leave a bit louder. The woman produced her mobile, ‘Well, I’d better see where my family are.’ She said in resignation. ‘Curse your white jumper!’ I cried, storming off to leave her to phone her family. Initiating Plan B, I went into hide in the Men’s, but it was nature that caught me out this time, as hunger got the better of me and, fearing loss of consciousness during the talk I so badly wanted to see, I had to go and buy a lovely cheese toastie, figuring that I had enough time to eat it before the talk. I managed this, yet I guess God really didn’t want me watching Gene, as I queued up but was turned away once again by the old chestnut of the venue reaching full capacity.
At a loose end until Dr. Robert Beckford at 11:45, I took another wander, during which I bumped into my friend Keith, a YMCA worker, who invited me to join him and his other YMCA friends in the Tiny Tea Tent, where I was bought an orange juice by a man I later figured out was YMCA Norfolk’s new Chief Executive, Tim Sweeting. Ooh, get me!
I was a happy when at last I managed to get into Centaur following a long queue to see Dr. Beckford, the theologian presenter of some very interesting Channel 4 documentaries, which was unbeknownst to some people I met in the queue, who curiously didn’t even know who Beckford was (possibly confusing him with that other Rob B?) The good Doctor began by getting us all on our feet to massage the shoulders of those either side of us to ease away any camping cramp. For me, the issue was cold, not cramp, which is what the woman who ‘massaged’ me with her powerful thumbs almost gave me. I uncomfortably eased myself back down onto the floor after that unhelpful interlude as the talk began.
Entitled ‘Live Aid or Dead Aid?’ Beckford’s sparse and clear presentation discussed why Africa is still impoverished, despite all the aid thrown at it by the Western world. He pitted the argument by Bono for (Live) aid against that of Dambisa Moyo, author of the book ‘Dead Aid’, who believes that aid is actually making things worse for Africa. As with his TV programmes, Beckford communicated very well, preventing his naturally serious subject matter from getting too heavy with one or two jokes, such as attempting Bono’s accent and claiming Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are his adoptive parents. However, even though Beckford was engaging, the weight of a couple of almost sleepless nights caught up with me and I dozed off. I don’t think I did this for long, or that Beckford noticed. If he had, I might have been forced to finish his talk whilst he took a nap, as it looks like he's doing in the photo below, maybe he was tired too?
After lunch, I went to catch up on some sleep properly back at my tent, before making my way to the main entrance at 3:30pm to prepare for our final Ambient Wonder session in The Shelter at 4pm. The second ‘Standing on the Shoulders of Giants’ slot went well, although it was less well attended in terms of how many people the Shelter could hold. There was no video work this time, so I also got to join in with the activities, my favourite being the chance to ‘plant a seed of hope’, in this case a cherry-seed, rather than an olive one, as well as the ‘Twitturgy’, where one could write a prayer or comment of 140 words or less to be put up on Twitter. Mine will be the only time I’ll ever be on Twitter but it was an interesting experiment.
After we’d packed up, I made my way to the campsite of my new Bristol friends, clearly marked by a large beige camper van with a blue slash along the side that made it resemble The A-Team’s signature vehicle. Inside, I was treated to fine wine, music, food and conversation. I was impressed that Adam and Lucy lived and travelled in this van, unsure of whether I would have the stamina to do it myself or whether claustrophobia would get the better of me. A couple of hours later, I headed off to my final appointment at GB09, a session by the online ‘Magazine of Christian Unrest’ - Ship of Fools, entitled ‘Chapter & Worse’.
Having conducted a survey of their readers and last year’s Greenbelters, the Fools had compiled a list of the top 10 worst Bible verses, which is to say, the most difficult. These, taken from both Testaments, showed the apparent condoning of slavery, human sacrifice, genocide, infanticide, homophobia and sexism within the Bible; the number one slot being taken by 1 Timothy 2:12 - "I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent." Hannah Kowszun, the only woman on the panel of debate, made some comment about this (in sign language, of course. Ho ho!). Yet, given that this was meant to be a bit of light-hearted discussion for the last night of the festival, the debate didn’t really heat up, except for one occasion where an audience member angrily asked James, another panellist, to explain his earlier comment that the Bible was God’s infallible Word and we just had to ‘deal with it’. That was the position we were all left in after the session ended, although I’m glad that Ship of Fools highlighted several of the ‘Good’ Book’s most difficult verses. As far as I can tell, these don’t seem to be discussed as much as they ought to be, not outside Greenbelt, anyway. The session was rounded off by some music from the ‘Revd. Gerald Ambulance’, who taught us an amusing spoof of a typical evangelical worship song with an intentionally overly repetitive chorus of “Praise You Lord”’s (x79).
As I arose to leave, I happened to get chatting with Becca from Wolverhampton, who had ended up alone when her friend had left after the first night because she found it too cold. We bumped into Matt and a couple of his friends and, after a brief natter, Becca lifted her hands up beneath Matt’s chin in a sort of offering gesture and said, inexplicably, ‘you’re a flower.’ Matt looked rather bemused by this and left to go home. I took Becca to the Volunteer’s Area for a hot drink, purely because everywhere else that sold them was shut, plus, I’d spent the first night of the festival in there, so it seemed to round off the weekend nicely to end it there, too. We spent about an hour discussing her home life, friends, church, etc and, if I’m honest, I felt like I was just being kind in spending time with her. I didn’t dislike her but I felt she was quite needy. Maybe it was also to do with the knowledge that I’ve been in her shoes before? Even at GB07, I camped alone and did almost everything by myself, which I was quite happy to do mostly but it did get lonely and I welcomed people’s company, as Becca did mine. As I've already mentioned, Greenbelt is a very open festival. One security guard we met complained (only half-jokingly) that he was bored at GB because he hadn't had abuse or anything more solid thrown at him, nor had he had to break up any fights, as with other festivals he'd worked at over the summer!
Becca and I parted company without exchanging contact details; it would have been strange to do that so soon after meeting her. She was leaving at 7am the next morning and wanted to get to bed, so we said our goodbyes (which, charmingly, involved her lifting her hands beneath my chin and telling me I was a flower - more interesting than a handshake, I guess) and went in search of the other Wonderers, who I thought were in The Jesus Arms, which was closing, so I bought a crepe instead near 'The Mash Shack' and went back to the campsite to find them there.
I really enjoyed Greenbelt 2009 and can't quite believe I got to experience it all for free! A few hours after cutting off my wristband, it still felt like I was wearing it, after having done so for four days. The festival is probably the only one of its kind in the country (perhaps Europe, if not the world?!) My friend Keith put it well when he compared the relaxed and fun GB to the more serious and ‘conferency’ Soul Survivor event he attended earlier in the summer. I agree (even if the GB food, good as it is, is rather pricey) and would add that Greenbelt provides the opportunity to see just how diverse and alive the 21st century church is, on a worldwide level, as well as giving more room for debate and difference of opinion than anywhere else. Roll on GB10 and 'The Art of Looking Sideways.'
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