Skip to main content

It isn't that important to me...

When we went sailing a few weeks ago, I mentioned to one of the club members that I had tried sailing a topper as a teenager, and really enjoyed it.  He asked: "Why haven't you done any sailing since then?"

Well.

On the face of it, that's a perfectly reasonable question.  On the other hand, why don't we do all these many things that we would probably enjoy if we did them?

Because our weekends are already full. 
Because we don't know anyone else who does it. 
Because it will cost money. 
Because we're afraid it will take up all our time.
Because the kids don't want to.

Because, quite frankly, it isn't that important to us.

Which isn't really something you can say to someone who's been sailing for longer than you've been alive.  But that's pretty much what it comes down to.

That brief conversation, and a similar one with a tennis instructor, served to point out the difference between those who are "in" an activity - and can't understand why someone else wouldn't at least want to try it - and those who are "out", for whom the question, "Why not?" is answered by, "Why would I?"  When sailing is your whole life, it can be hard to comprehend that it's not even on someone else's radar.

Church, of course, is much more than a leisure activity - at least for those who are in it.  But there are certain similarities to a sailing club.  It's what you do at the weekend.  It's where you make friends with like-minded people.  It organises barbeques and breakfasts.  It will take over your life if you want it to (and possibly even if you don't).  It has branches all over the country.

And those who are "in" don't really understand why those who aren't, aren't.

I mean, we know, of course, that plenty of people don't go to church.  Or sail.  Or play tennis.  And we realise that this is for the same kind of reasons that we don't play bowls or join the local fishing club.  But it's still hard to get past the idea that if they just tried it, they would be there every week.

To a certain extent, that does work.  I mentioned before how impressed I was by the efforts the LTA is making to get people into tennis.  And you know what?  I could see us getting into tennis.  Not in a big way, but in a join a club, get a bit better at it, play a few fun games kind of a way.  And this is coming from someone who has never been into organised sport, and whose main memories from school are of repeatedly failing to hit the ball.  Ever.  In anything.  So they must be doing something right.

Likewise, sometimes all it takes is an invitation to church.  But it's still got to coincide with some recognition that this is important.  That it's worth the time and money that it takes.  That it provides something that is missing in our lives.

So.  Why not?  Want to give it a try?

See?  It's fun!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mr White Watson of Bakewell

Once upon a time, back in 1795 or so, lived a man who was always asking questions.  The kind of questions like, "Why is glass transparent?" or "Why do fruit trees grow better in that place than in this place?" or "What does the earth look like underneath the surface?"  This last question was one that he was particularly interested in, and he went so far as to work out what the rock layers looked like where he lived, and draw little pictures of them.  Now he was a marble sculptor by trade (as well as fossil hunter, mineral seller, and a few other things) so he thought it would be even better to make his little pictures in stone.  That way he could represent the layers using the actual rocks they were composed of.  Over the course of his lifetime he made almost 100 of these tablets, as he called them. Then he died.  And no one else was quite as interested in all those rocks and minerals as he was.  His collection was sold off, bit by bit, and the table...

Birmingham: Temples to many things

Birmingham's cathedral is overshadowed by more modern temples: the mirrored swirls of New Street train station; the dotted bulge of the Selfridges store; the lacy blocks of the library; the pillars and pediments of the museum and art gallery. Museum and town hall Next to all these, Birmingham Cathedral, in its square of dusty grass, isolated from the main flow of shopping and travel, seems less like a dominant building and more like a minor chapel. It turns out the unpretentiousness is deliberate. St Philip's Church was built in 1715 when the worshipping population of Birmingham had outgrown the medieval constraints of St Martin in the Bullring . Birmingham remained part of the Diocese of Worcester until 1905, when Charles Gore pushed for the creation of a new diocese and became its first bishop. Seeing the depth of need in the city, he decided to convert St Philip's to a cathedral rather than spend money on a grand new building. Birmingham Cathedral had to be restored afte...

Southwell Minster, Newark-on-Trent, and a pilgrim cellist

You may remember that I recently mentioned people doing weird and wonderful things. Well, I found another one. Last year, Kenneth Wilson visited all 42 English cathedrals. On a bike. With a cello. It was a cargo bike; the whole setup, cello and all, weighed about 50 kg; and he mostly managed a rate of one cathedral per day, with occasional rest days and train journeys where absolutely necessary. That's a lot of cycling. Of course, he wrote a book about it, and when I found out he was on the schedule at Newark Book Festival, I had to go. It also provided the perfect excuse to visit Southwell Minster. Newark-on-Trent feels like it is in the depths of the Nottinghamshire countryside, but it isn't actually hard to get to, I thought as I buzzed along the dual carriageways of the A50, A453, A52 and A46 on a sunny Sunday morning. All along the route, the grass stood bleached and crispy, scorched by the summer heat.  Newark Castle with crispy grass The author event was at the National...