Saunas, disappointment and fear
Sounds like an average Saturday night out. It's also about legalism and ambivalence towards rules.
I disappointed myself recently.
Also not recently. I disappoint myself a lot. (In that Mitch Hedberg way: I used to disappoint myself a lot. I still do, but I used to, also.) But I disappointed myself recently, in a steam room and a sauna.
Got your attention now, so let me first say a few things about rules. Because that’s what this letter is really about.
So.
If you had to pick one, which of these statements would you say is more true of me:
A: “Follows rules, loves rules, rules rule”?
or
B: “Would eat rules for breakfast, if he ever had more than a Red Bull for breakfast”?
Not to invite an intervention over my caffeine consumption and general approach to nutrition, but I would put me firmly in Camp B. And yet, dear reader, I must confess that I have noticed myself slipping into Camp A. And I’m trying to understand why, whether it’s okay and what it should teach me about life as a (fairly poor) follower of Christ.
Generally speaking, I’m not so much for the rules. I don’t tend to care for them. I have p s y c h o l o g i c a l p r o b l e m s that make me see most boundaries as rejections and rules as inherently artificial and arbitrary. If you work in HR I am a delight to deal with. If you’re my friend, I am complicated.
But at least I’m not a centrist. I don’t think the current world order is particularly just, so I don’t assume the rules and laws that status the hell out of that quo are sacred. Rule breaking for the greater good (or even for personal freedom if it doesn’t actually harm others) is okay by me.
I don’t look at BLM protests getting a bit flamey or Insulate Britain actions causing traffic jams and think: ‘But that’s against the rules!’ I’ve never been one to see a Christian breaking a biblical law and think I should put a stop to it on the basis that they should comply, and much less when non-Christians do the same. Because there’s usually a bigger question, a larger context and a more important aspect to consider.
So it’s weird when you consider me in the steam room and the sauna.
I know what you’re thinking. When are you not considering me in the sauna and steam room? And who can blame you. I am beautiful, like Christina Aguilera with a beard and back hair. Majestic like a warehouse full of wine and mediocre-white-man confidence. And in the steam room, I glisten like a damp silverback recently trampled by snails. In the sauna I sweat like a Tory MP before an ethics committee. I am warm, I am free, I am mostly nekkid – and because anyone who comes in there is mostly thinking about not dying of heat exhaustion or drowning in the water vapour, I am rarely self conscious. It’s pretty good. An oasis of peace where I can smooth out all the furrows and wrinkles in the heat and steam. I’m basically laundry.
But Covid ruined this psychological ironing board for a year. Nobody was going into tiny rooms with strangers, much less ones with added water vapour and jungle heat. But now that things have opened up, I’ve cautiously come back to my hammam. And the pool where I go to swim for ten minutes in order to justify half an hour in the heat is pretty good about it all. They have a sign on the door for safety: “Only two people at a time in the sauna and steam room, please.”
And do people pay attention to this rule?
The fuck they do.
Labradorious lads bounce through the door in threes and fours, bursting with irritating health and thoughtless confidence and sit squished up together like uncooked pork bangers (ripped, buff bangers) and giggling to each other. Muscle men with bodies built by Caterpillar ripple in make an audible clunk as they sit their rock hard glutes on the benches, and they too, travel in (six) packs. The middle aged mums and glossy grans who swim in sync across four lanes while chatting all the while about their children and their spouses and the state of things all come in, too, together and en masse. All normal people. All humans made in the image of the Lord, seeking wellness in the gym and connection with friends, to make this cold and unkind world a little easier for a while.
God, I hate them.
Not all the time. But in that moment that they come in and everything in my naturalised-British soul is screaming CAN YOU NOT READ THE SIGN, YOU MOUTH BREATHER? and my body just gives a chin lift and “Alright? Good swim?” – that is when I hate them. Because the rule is clear, and they have broken it.
I’d love to say this is because I take Covid seriously. I wear a mask in pubs where barmaids make a point of telling me I don’t have to, and I took a long time to get back to in-person church, so I do. But I have also in the last week been to a nightclub, two gigs and several bars. So while I sit and seethe in the steam, I am indeed wondering how people can be so selfish and so cavalier with the health of others, but really, no. Hypocrisy, thy name is this guy. My rage is fuelled by something else.
I see it when I’m driving too.
Watching cyclists sail through red lights makes me want to break social convention, follow them and tap them on the shoulder. With my car. People roaring up behind me in the middle lane (don’t get me started on the middle lane and its symbolic perpetuation of the class system), doing well over the speed limit regularly make me want to slam on breaks. I don’t, obviously. I’m not insane. But I do take my foot off the accelerator and give them a grin with far too many teeth as they scream past. People parking badly make me want to leave them notes on windscreens that are unedifying, ungracious and, probably, unhinged.
All these things can be justified reasonably, of course. You don’t get to be middle aged in the polite middle class without developing some serious logic circuits specifically for explaining to yourself why your anger is righteous. But really, in almost every case, I think I’m scared and full of envy.
I get scared when people behave erratically in traffic or take me by surprise by jumping out at me, and my fight reflex is how I respond. I am scared of Covid still, and finding much of what I’m doing now because it seems ridiculous not to while everyone else is chill, stressful. So when I see people swanning about seemingly unconcerned, I envy them, and feel self conscious and ashamed of my cowardice – or at least my lack of free-wheeling ease.
And that’s when I reach for the rules. Every time I’m in that situation I want to call a cop or send an email to the management. I am a Karen with unruly nose hair. I’m disgruntled of Tunbridge Wells, with a lip ring and black nail paint.
This isn’t meant to be a defence of legalism and computer-says-no rule-enforcing. Whether it’s HR treating you like a number or religious folks telling you that you can’t be loved, an emphasis on the rules is rarely good. (And there’s a difference between creating boundaries and guidelines for the common good or human thriving than a focus on the letter.) But this is a reminder to me (and anyone else who sometimes feels this way) that sometimes those who reach first for the statute book or point reflexively at the list of dos and don’ts on the wall may just be scared. And like most scared people, they are not at their best. So we can cut them some slack. And cut ourselves some slack too.
If the habit of laws and rules has become ingrained, we may need to work on it, to scrub it out of the way, to get to a place where God’s Spirit of grace is more likely to control our first response. If our fear is making us people we don’t want to be, perhaps all we can do is be aware of it and watch out for our reactions and perceptions – because they are very unlikely to be the best of us.
Myself, I’m going to repent. Or try to. Because I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t mind being angry a lot of the time, but I want it to be over things that matter, not from a resentment that I complied and you didn’t.
More importantly, I’m going to relax when I am in the sauna and the steam room. What are these deliciously hot places for if not to chill?
Where’s Jonty been?
So my friend and former co-host Drabs said to me the other day: “Hey whatever happened to that thing we liked?”
I said: “What thing?”
He said: “That cool thing that used to come out every week. Do you remember?”
I said: “You’re gonna have to be more specific, man.”
And he said: “You know... the Beer Christianity Newsletter. Whatever happened to that guy?”
Sarky bastard. But it did prompt me to write this. And to tell you what I’ve been up to.
Contrary to expectations (and, frankly, tradition), I have not just been paralysed with sadness all this time. I’ve been doing things. The podcast, a day as a movie extra, trying to organise a house move. And also writing and writing adjacent things.
Mostly I’ve been writing for Premier Christianity Magazine, which has taken up a fair amount of time and energy. I do this partly because they have an audience that isn’t primed to automatically agree with me and I think it’s important to get what I have to say heard by people who actually need to hear it. Partly I do it cos they pay. And sadbois will have their trinkets.
You can read my piece on Black Friday and consumerism, online or in the print mag (Nov 2021, cover story) and my tips for alternative to the shopping madness here.
I’ve written a bunch of things for them over the last couple of months, including a review of an interesting book in Islam, a piece on the prophetic message of Midnight Mass and some other stuff all available here.
In addition I’ve been working with my publishers on getting my novel, Incredulous Moshoeshoe and the Lightning Bird (Montag Press, 2021), ready for publication. It’s weird but people have said nice things. So it’s been busy, but I am sorry for not writing as regularly here as I should. Thank you for your patience! (Except Drabs)
New Old Music
[warning: strong language in bold type ahead]
I’ve also been doing some more of my Spotify music show, New Old Music, occasionally with a guest presenter.
I’m particularly proud of the artwork I have done for some of these. I feel its subtlety and polished style accurately represent the tone of the show.
Here’s the most recent:
and I loved doing this one:
and this one was just so much fun:
You can click any of those images to be taken to the shows, and if you like them please do share and follow and all that malarkey. The show works best with a Spotify premium account and in their app — and it benefits from the option to skip through songs AND me talking. Like the radio only tolerable.
On the Podcast
We’ve got a new thing! SHO(R)TS are little tipples, shooters, shots or shorts – episodes without the time commitment or the heavy investment in production that the longer episodes require, so that you can have more regular Beer Christianity stuff to listen to. Check them out on the Beer Christianity show list.
We also did a few Halloween episodes (of course we did), most excitingly with Brandon Grafius, an academic of horror and the Bible. It’s a great episode, so you should take a listen!
Okay that’s all I really wanted to say.
You can help Beer Christianity
You don’t have to! But this is how you can encourage the crap out of me.
I do this for free and for the love of getting to talk to you and informing your thinking. That is a massive privilege in itself, NGL. But sometimes people ask how they can help. So if you’d like to do even more than reading, there are two options:
Tell your friends about the newsletter and the podcast, share them on social media, leave reviews, all that kind of stuff. It is so encouraging. And makes it more worthwhile.
Buy me a beer. That is to say, you can make a donation to help support me doing this stuff. You really don’t have to, but it really does really help. And if you’re doing it specifically to support the podcast, I promise to buy drinks for Laura and Malky too if you like! Please leave a message if you do! But also no pressure! Good Lord this is awkward.
Anyway…
Follow/message Beer Christianity on Twitter: @beerxianity and Instagram. Listen to us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube and Stitcher.
Leave us a question or comment to be included in the podcast at: speakpipe.com/beerchristianity.
Or give! You know, whatever! No pressure! Aaaaaa!
Well look at you making it to the end of the newsletter. Usin’ your book learnin’ an readin’ an whatnot. Nice. I really am sorry, though, for not writing more. I do want to honour the people who have signed up for this and I know there are probably more important things I should be commenting on that saunas, but I thought this was a start. So thank you. I appreciate your face (hypothetically). Love you!