That moment just before
Many moons ago, I studied English literature and philosophy at university, and I got to know the theories and considered reflections of some of the world’s greatest thinkers. It was wonderful to stretch my own thinking into areas way beyond what I’d ever considered.
My favourite philosopher, still to this day, was a very short English character, famous for walking around naked even when with his friends and in public. His name was Winnie-the-Pooh. Much of what he said has been attributed to English writer A.A. Milne, but I’m inclined to believe he simply appropriated what Pooh had said.
Pooh, it was well known, loved eating honey perhaps more than anything else. Although, he once said something to the contrary: “You know, the only thing better than eating honey, is that moment just before you start eating honey.”
Ah, the lovely sense of anticipation; joyful apprehension; hopeful premonition. The notions of promise and suspense somehow linked together. That knowledge that something is about to happen, and it will be good.
When do we have this feeling in a Salvation Army meeting?
We have it when the person preaching, often an officer, says, “And finally …”. Suddenly, our eyes open a little, we sit up straight, and we start to sense feeling returning to our extremities. We have a renewed sense of hope: the end is near. Mind you, I’ve heard preachers plough through three or four “And finally’s” without an end anywhere in sight.
We have that sense of anticipation when the person doing the children’s story or interactive message has decided to incorporate a magic trick or liquid or spaghetti or cream, and we just know it’s all going to go wrong at some stage, and we’ll laugh and laugh. We quietly say to the person sitting next to us, “This is not going to end well”, and sure enough – suddenly, there’s cream up someone’s nostrils and water spilling on the carpet, and, as the table leg collapses, everything flies everywhere.
We sense the suspense when the band is playing a piece that includes the cornets hitting a high C near the end, and we know that none of these cornet players have hit a high C since 1978. What will happen? Will they play it down an octave? Will the bandmaster pull out a cornet just to play that note? Will the eupho player play the note instead of the cornets? Ah, problem solved – the bandmaster finished the piece at the end of the previous section. Very clever. Crisis averted.
We are filled with joy and hope when the officer announces that the corps council has approved the purchase of new chairs to replace the mid-blue carpet-covered pews they’ve been sitting on for 40 years. The congregation actually applauds!
And then the officer announces that to speed up the transition and save money, he’s already purchased 100 chairs online from eBay, apparently from a cinema centre that’s closing down. He’s sure they’ll be great, and they’re only 20 years old. He then calls for a working bee to wipe down the black faux-leather chairs with some wet wipes and scrape off the gum.
Anticipation: it’s a wonderful thing to hold, at least for a few moments, until reality sets in. In the end, Paul writes, we’ll have faith, hope and love, and I love the feeling of faithfully hoping.
Major Mal Davies is the Assistant Divisional Commander for the Victoria Division
