My favourite crystal glass has a crack in it. It was one of a set given at our wedding in 1986. The last one of that set. It was given by an uncle and aunt long since dead. It’s now sitting on the window sill waiting for me to determine its fate.

I like the look of the glass, how it feels in the hand, and the sound it makes with ice cubes in it. Little things that add to the enjoyment of a drink. My guess is that caring about what you drink out of is another one of those things that comes with age.

I also liked drinking from a glass that carries memories of times sipping past. 38 years of memories all shuffled up, most hard to recall, but a feeling nonetheless. Of company, of pleasure, of sunsets, of smiles, of serenity. Good feelings.

I suppose that's how conservativism gets born. We want to conserve the good things that we remember of the old. Tradition too is similar. Keeping the best of the past alive. Even if they have cracks. Even if they no longer serve a purpose, except as memories. Cracked glasses sitting on our window sills.

When you work for an institution like the Church, as I do, there are plenty of cracked crystal glasses. I’m talking about beloved things of the past, often beautiful things, with lots of memories attached, which unfortunately no longer do what they were designed to do and often can’t be repurposed.

To give one example, many churches recite what’s called a creed as part of their Sunday morning service. Creed, from the Latin credo, is a statement of belief. Everyone stands and says this together. I grew up doing this. Facing East.

The problem is that most traditional creeds no longer make sense. If they ever could make sense to a 21^st century mind. Sure, there might be one or two people nowadays in a congregation who’ve read up, gone through line-by-line deciphering, and then concluded it’s something they can assent to. But not most people. And not most of the ministers I’ve met over my four decades in this job.

There is a long history of creeds, but in short, they represent the majority position on contentious theological issues in the 4^th century CE. A creed was recited by the winners and all who aligned with them. The losers were told to recite it, or else.

Not that a creed, mind you, settled disputes. The great, and tragic, split in 1054 between the Western and Eastern Church was over a single word in the Nicene creed.

There is, from my perspective, an ethical issue about asking people in a church service to stand and recite a creed the origins of which most don’t know, the plain meaning of which many don’t believe, and with a backstory of a ‘litmus test’ to tell whether you’re a good Christian or not.

Note, creeds don’t say anything about how Christians are meant to behave. Which, of course, is another problem.

So, creeds like many other legacies from the past are a bit like cracked crystal glasses sitting on window sills – familiar, comforting in their familiarity, but not really adapted to and able to offer much today.

And its not just the Church that has cracked crystal glasses on its window sills. Parliament has plenty. As do Councils. As do most homes. Things beloved from the past, but now limited in addressing or meeting needs today.

Glynn