Despite the dire economic outlook and terrible situation in the Middle East - which is certain to have a much more direct impact on Western nations at home and abroad soon enough - I think this is a very positive time for the Church in Britain.
The primary reason for this, is that times of uncertainty weaken the church but strengthen the gospel.
The tougher life becomes, the more strident the church becomes (and particularly its Bishops) in presenting the gospel alternative. As the church - as an institution - is weakened by a failing economy, so the church begin to question the economic and social framework within which it operates. The result is that the gospel message is heard more clearly and strongly than in more bouyant economic times.
I find it enormously encouraging to read Bishops taking a lead on social, political and economic issues. For a start it gives us permission to do exactly that at a local level.
But we also need to bridge the gap between critique and our alternative vision. We need to move beyond criticism and towards vision - yet a vision full of practicalities not remote theology.
Surely practical theologians have been doing this for decades? Of course, that's true. This is neither the first recession nor the first Middle East crises.
Where the church consistenly falls down is not having a big picture strategy. Church social and economic policy tinkers around the edges of social democracy - it is rare for a church report to present a wholesale alternative to western democratic capitalism.
Yet this is what is needed and what is demanded by Jesus' vision of the Kingdom of God as present reality, as well as future hope.
The key lies in understanding that events such as Gaza and the credit crunch are linked by their dependency on injustice. Both narratives centre on the actions of powerful 'imperial' vested interests running roughshod over 'little people'. They are stories of biblical proportions and can be read time and time again in the Old and New Testaments.
So given that perspective, what am I hoping for this January?
First, the growing independence of the institutional church. We must avoid the church being aligned to the vested interests that grow stronger on the back of injustice. We need an independent church for an independent gospel.
Second, the confidence to trust the God who depends on us to preach the gospel.
Finally, the wisdom to flesh out the Kingdom of God as a practical alternative not an unassailable ideal. And that means returning to scripture and God's covenantal commitment to us. It's all there! We just need to live it!
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Memo from Rwanda
Kieran, our 18 year old son, visited the Rwanda Genocide Memorial yesterday during his short stay in Kigali. His gap year has already proven immensely valuable to him and it has certainly taught Liz and I a lot about parenting too. You have to let go, but let's not pretend that's easy!
Anyway, Kieran posted this message on Facebook yesterday. It demands from those of us who can remember these events, some hard thinking about what we didn't do then, and perhaps what we're not doing today....
Hi Guys!
I've made it to Rwanda after an 18 hour bus journey, which was a nightmare, and a night in a hellish seedy guesthouse, because it was the only place we could find, guarded by about 8 'street guys' smoking weed (one of who was kind enough to offer his presence as we went in search of a drink, so as to protect us from being mugged!) Anyway, it was a terrible place, with what we are convinced was blood stains on the wall..Anyway, the campsite where we are now, is much lovelier with everything we need so that's great!
I went to the Rwanda Genocide Memorial today, which is a fantastically informative memorial with an incredbily peaceful memorial garden, which was ideal to visit after the graphic exhibition inside. The exhibition starts all the way back in colonial times (it was the German, Belgian and French administrations that fucked the whole thing over by the way) and then travels all the way through the causes, events and repurcussions of the genocide.
The most graphic and moving parts of the exhibition have to be the videod retellings of the stories by some survivors, and the hundreds of pictures donated by families of lost ones, all hanging up in one room. Picture after picture of smiling happy being, not knowing, their llives were literally about to be hacked to pieces. There was one bit, where there was a chain and a padlock in a glass box - this was the chain that was used to tie two people together as they were buried alive. Then there was a room full of skulls and bones, of some victims.
The worst things about this was not simply the fact that there were about 50 skulls and 100s of bones in this room with me, it was the fact that on so many of the skulls, bits had been hacked off, the faces on some were shattered, and one skull was just a pile of fragments. That was pretty shocking. Then, there was a room full of clothes and what hit me about that, was how modern the clothes were, tracksuit bottoms, colourful Tshirts and so on - it was such a modern genocide, and this is really brought clear here. The children's memorial is probably the most heart wrenching. It's very simple, just a load of pictures of kids and then under the pictures it says things like their favourite food, sport, pasttime, friend whatever, but under that, it just says 'cause of death'.
The worst two for me, were favourite food: mother's milk, favourite friend: older sister, cause of death: stabbed in eyes and head and then aged 2 ,favourite whatevers, before cause of death, being smashed against a wall.So it was pretty tough, graphic emotional stuff, and the shear size of the mass graves, these huge concrete slabs indicating where they are - there's at least a dozen of them.
Tomorrow, we're going to go and visit two churches which saw about 50,000 killed in each, so that will be another lesson to learn all about.
Anyway, if you ever get the chance, you must come and see the memorials. Kieran xx
Anyway, Kieran posted this message on Facebook yesterday. It demands from those of us who can remember these events, some hard thinking about what we didn't do then, and perhaps what we're not doing today....
Hi Guys!
I've made it to Rwanda after an 18 hour bus journey, which was a nightmare, and a night in a hellish seedy guesthouse, because it was the only place we could find, guarded by about 8 'street guys' smoking weed (one of who was kind enough to offer his presence as we went in search of a drink, so as to protect us from being mugged!) Anyway, it was a terrible place, with what we are convinced was blood stains on the wall..Anyway, the campsite where we are now, is much lovelier with everything we need so that's great!
I went to the Rwanda Genocide Memorial today, which is a fantastically informative memorial with an incredbily peaceful memorial garden, which was ideal to visit after the graphic exhibition inside. The exhibition starts all the way back in colonial times (it was the German, Belgian and French administrations that fucked the whole thing over by the way) and then travels all the way through the causes, events and repurcussions of the genocide.
The most graphic and moving parts of the exhibition have to be the videod retellings of the stories by some survivors, and the hundreds of pictures donated by families of lost ones, all hanging up in one room. Picture after picture of smiling happy being, not knowing, their llives were literally about to be hacked to pieces. There was one bit, where there was a chain and a padlock in a glass box - this was the chain that was used to tie two people together as they were buried alive. Then there was a room full of skulls and bones, of some victims.
The worst things about this was not simply the fact that there were about 50 skulls and 100s of bones in this room with me, it was the fact that on so many of the skulls, bits had been hacked off, the faces on some were shattered, and one skull was just a pile of fragments. That was pretty shocking. Then, there was a room full of clothes and what hit me about that, was how modern the clothes were, tracksuit bottoms, colourful Tshirts and so on - it was such a modern genocide, and this is really brought clear here. The children's memorial is probably the most heart wrenching. It's very simple, just a load of pictures of kids and then under the pictures it says things like their favourite food, sport, pasttime, friend whatever, but under that, it just says 'cause of death'.
The worst two for me, were favourite food: mother's milk, favourite friend: older sister, cause of death: stabbed in eyes and head and then aged 2 ,favourite whatevers, before cause of death, being smashed against a wall.So it was pretty tough, graphic emotional stuff, and the shear size of the mass graves, these huge concrete slabs indicating where they are - there's at least a dozen of them.
Tomorrow, we're going to go and visit two churches which saw about 50,000 killed in each, so that will be another lesson to learn all about.
Anyway, if you ever get the chance, you must come and see the memorials. Kieran xx
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
We need to listen to today's prophets
[Evensong sermon preached on Advent 2 St Mary's Banbury]
Why didn’t anyone see the credit crunch coming?
Why didn’t anyone warn us as to just how vulnerable the financial system was? Why were the banks allowed to lend large sums of money to people who had no realistic chance of ever paying them back? Where were the prophetic voices of our generation?
The truth, of course, is that plenty of journalists and commentators – both religious and secular - did warn us of the current crises. One of the most outspoken in Christian circles – Ann Pettifor – spoke on this precise topic over a year ago at the Christian Greenbelt festival. It’s not that we weren’t told, but that we refused to listen.
On this, the second Sunday in Advent, we are encouraged to reflect on the role of the prophets in the foretelling of Christ’s birth.
Now this is slightly problematic this year as our lectionary gospel is Mark, which unlike Matthew and Luke ignores the stories of Jesus’ birth completely along with all the corresponding old testament prophecy.
Yet even the beginning of Mark, which we heard read a few minutes ago, draws on the wisdom of two old testament prophets - Isaiah and Malachi - as Mark introduces John the Baptist:
“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way;
the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
Prepare the way of the Lord,
Make his paths straight.”
We often think of a prophet as being someone who predicts the future – and this is certainly how the prophecies of the old testament appear to be used in the new.
Yet that is only partly true. The prophets not so much predicted the future as if it were inevitable and beyond anyone’s control; rather they outlined what the future would be like, given the current behaviour of the people of Israel.
The prophets played two vital roles. First, in the name of Yahweh, they kept hope alive – hope for the transformation of the present and for ‘the day of the Lord’ to come in the future. Secondly, they sought to bring the people of Israel back to God.
These two roles were intimately connected with one another. The prophets reminded Israel of the faithfulness of God, but at the same time condemned Israel whenever it went astray.
Like us today, the people of Israel were not good at listening to their prophets. Frequent prophetic utterances were ignored; and because the Israelites refused to listen, they failed to respond.
Our relationship with God is similarly grounded in invitation and response; God’s invitation to us, and our response to God. The divine gift of redemption comes with clear responsibilities as the prophets repeatedly emphasised in their proclamations.
All of this makes the inclusion of old testament prophecy in the stories about Jesus a little disturbing. Their inclusion is not a simplistic and sentimental reminder that the incarnation was foreseen in the old testament. But a very painful reminder that the incarnation was only necessary because of human failure. A failure to listen and respond.
When we read in the new testament quotations from the old testament prophets we need to do so with great care. First, because the authors of the new testament had their own motives, quite distinct from the original prophet’s intentions. And second because it can lead us to the very mistaken view that the old testament is nothing more than a very long extended introduction to the real story. The names we give the two halves of our scriptures don’t help. Yet there is only a century or two between the end of the old and the beginning of the new testament. Read as a whole the Bible is one continuous story of God’s relationship with creation.
At the beginning of his gospel, Mark weaves two of the many prophecies of Isaiah and Malachi together; drawing new truth from their separate contexts – contexts that were separated by at least 100 years.
Isaiah, writing against the background of exile in Babylon offers comfort and hope. Malachi’s denunciation of the religious and moral waywardness of the people of Israel in the 5thC BC was accompanied by dire warnings of the judgement of God to come.
In uniting these two different prophecies, Mark gives scriptural authority to John the Baptist who offers comfort through baptism and utters warning through his own prophecy of the coming Messiah. And it provides the scriptural basis for Mark’s outrageous claim with which his gospel starts: This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
So, returning to my opening comments about the credit crunch, how can we relate the old testament prophets to the challenges of our own day?
As the people of Israel waited in exile in Babylon, their hearts turned to Jerusalem in hope. Yet at the same time, Isaiah reminded his hearers of the transitory nature of the human condition.
“The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.”
Faced with the problems of God’s world we can become immobilised by our own mortality; we can deceive ourselves that we are too small and transitory to make a difference. And so we need our modern prophets – not simply to warn us of the reality around us that we often prefer to ignore, but to keep alive our hope in the God who creates, sustains and redeems us. A God who is actively involved in the world and whose commitment to us is unswerving.
So what does Christian hope offer the world this Advent? A world that includes unnecessary cholera epidemics in Zimbabwe, continuing strife in the Congo, economic uncertainty and misery for many in this country and the ongoing threat of terrorism in so many places? A world that looks far from redeemed despite the redeeming God.
Let me suggest three things:
First, the world doesn’t have to be like this. We can imagine an alternative and it’s called the Kingdom of God; a counter-cultural way of living and relating to one another that is inclusive of all, protective of the weak and vulnerable, and welcoming to the stranger.
Secondly, God hears our cries and responds. God heard and delivered the people of Israel from Egypt and from Babylon. Frustrated with the world, God incarnate came in Jesus and is available to us today through the Holy Spirit.
Finally, hope is something to realise; to bring about. Hope is not about dreams; it’s about how we respond to God’s invitation to us. Unlike wishful thinking, which is rooted in selfish desire, hope is grounded in the gritty reality of life. As Jesus discovered in Gethsemane, hope demands engagement with the world, not escape from it. To hope for a better world is to be a participant in its creation. To live in hope is to actively engage with a God and a gospel that demands that we live differently.
We think of Advent as a season of hopeful waiting. Yet for most of us I doubt it is a season of idleness. To wait is not to be unoccupied. To hope is not to leave the transformation of the world to others. God depends on us.
What are we hoping for this Advent?
Amen.
Why didn’t anyone see the credit crunch coming?
Why didn’t anyone warn us as to just how vulnerable the financial system was? Why were the banks allowed to lend large sums of money to people who had no realistic chance of ever paying them back? Where were the prophetic voices of our generation?
The truth, of course, is that plenty of journalists and commentators – both religious and secular - did warn us of the current crises. One of the most outspoken in Christian circles – Ann Pettifor – spoke on this precise topic over a year ago at the Christian Greenbelt festival. It’s not that we weren’t told, but that we refused to listen.
On this, the second Sunday in Advent, we are encouraged to reflect on the role of the prophets in the foretelling of Christ’s birth.
Now this is slightly problematic this year as our lectionary gospel is Mark, which unlike Matthew and Luke ignores the stories of Jesus’ birth completely along with all the corresponding old testament prophecy.
Yet even the beginning of Mark, which we heard read a few minutes ago, draws on the wisdom of two old testament prophets - Isaiah and Malachi - as Mark introduces John the Baptist:
“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way;
the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
Prepare the way of the Lord,
Make his paths straight.”
We often think of a prophet as being someone who predicts the future – and this is certainly how the prophecies of the old testament appear to be used in the new.
Yet that is only partly true. The prophets not so much predicted the future as if it were inevitable and beyond anyone’s control; rather they outlined what the future would be like, given the current behaviour of the people of Israel.
The prophets played two vital roles. First, in the name of Yahweh, they kept hope alive – hope for the transformation of the present and for ‘the day of the Lord’ to come in the future. Secondly, they sought to bring the people of Israel back to God.
These two roles were intimately connected with one another. The prophets reminded Israel of the faithfulness of God, but at the same time condemned Israel whenever it went astray.
Like us today, the people of Israel were not good at listening to their prophets. Frequent prophetic utterances were ignored; and because the Israelites refused to listen, they failed to respond.
Our relationship with God is similarly grounded in invitation and response; God’s invitation to us, and our response to God. The divine gift of redemption comes with clear responsibilities as the prophets repeatedly emphasised in their proclamations.
All of this makes the inclusion of old testament prophecy in the stories about Jesus a little disturbing. Their inclusion is not a simplistic and sentimental reminder that the incarnation was foreseen in the old testament. But a very painful reminder that the incarnation was only necessary because of human failure. A failure to listen and respond.
When we read in the new testament quotations from the old testament prophets we need to do so with great care. First, because the authors of the new testament had their own motives, quite distinct from the original prophet’s intentions. And second because it can lead us to the very mistaken view that the old testament is nothing more than a very long extended introduction to the real story. The names we give the two halves of our scriptures don’t help. Yet there is only a century or two between the end of the old and the beginning of the new testament. Read as a whole the Bible is one continuous story of God’s relationship with creation.
At the beginning of his gospel, Mark weaves two of the many prophecies of Isaiah and Malachi together; drawing new truth from their separate contexts – contexts that were separated by at least 100 years.
Isaiah, writing against the background of exile in Babylon offers comfort and hope. Malachi’s denunciation of the religious and moral waywardness of the people of Israel in the 5thC BC was accompanied by dire warnings of the judgement of God to come.
In uniting these two different prophecies, Mark gives scriptural authority to John the Baptist who offers comfort through baptism and utters warning through his own prophecy of the coming Messiah. And it provides the scriptural basis for Mark’s outrageous claim with which his gospel starts: This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
So, returning to my opening comments about the credit crunch, how can we relate the old testament prophets to the challenges of our own day?
As the people of Israel waited in exile in Babylon, their hearts turned to Jerusalem in hope. Yet at the same time, Isaiah reminded his hearers of the transitory nature of the human condition.
“The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.”
Faced with the problems of God’s world we can become immobilised by our own mortality; we can deceive ourselves that we are too small and transitory to make a difference. And so we need our modern prophets – not simply to warn us of the reality around us that we often prefer to ignore, but to keep alive our hope in the God who creates, sustains and redeems us. A God who is actively involved in the world and whose commitment to us is unswerving.
So what does Christian hope offer the world this Advent? A world that includes unnecessary cholera epidemics in Zimbabwe, continuing strife in the Congo, economic uncertainty and misery for many in this country and the ongoing threat of terrorism in so many places? A world that looks far from redeemed despite the redeeming God.
Let me suggest three things:
First, the world doesn’t have to be like this. We can imagine an alternative and it’s called the Kingdom of God; a counter-cultural way of living and relating to one another that is inclusive of all, protective of the weak and vulnerable, and welcoming to the stranger.
Secondly, God hears our cries and responds. God heard and delivered the people of Israel from Egypt and from Babylon. Frustrated with the world, God incarnate came in Jesus and is available to us today through the Holy Spirit.
Finally, hope is something to realise; to bring about. Hope is not about dreams; it’s about how we respond to God’s invitation to us. Unlike wishful thinking, which is rooted in selfish desire, hope is grounded in the gritty reality of life. As Jesus discovered in Gethsemane, hope demands engagement with the world, not escape from it. To hope for a better world is to be a participant in its creation. To live in hope is to actively engage with a God and a gospel that demands that we live differently.
We think of Advent as a season of hopeful waiting. Yet for most of us I doubt it is a season of idleness. To wait is not to be unoccupied. To hope is not to leave the transformation of the world to others. God depends on us.
What are we hoping for this Advent?
Amen.
Make up your own mind. Do you believe in Jesus or not?
[Sermon preached on Advent 2 St Mary's Banbury]
How do you go about reading a new book?
Are you the kind of person who starts at the beginning and persists page-by-page right through to the end? Or perhaps you dip into the middle at random to get a feel as to whether it’s going to keep your attention? Or are you more like me – I will often just read the first chapter or introduction of a new book, and whether I read any further at all will depend entirely on whether the author has fully got my attention from the word go. In fact, if the first sentence isn’t good enough, I might not get further than that.
Mark’s gospel can be read in all these ways. It’s short enough to read the entire book in about half an hour. And if you’ve never done that, I do recommend it - just to get a feel of the speed and urgency with which Mark tells Jesus’ story. We often think of Jesus’ ministry lasting three years, yet in Mark’s gospel it could all have happened in just nine months.
Or you can dip into Mark at any point and get a glimpse of the Jesus story, although – like the disciples in Mark’s gospel – it may prove difficult to grasp Jesus’ entire message that way.
But what impression do we get if we just read the beginning?
Try to imagine that you know nothing else of Jesus’ story except this morning’s gospel reading: the first eight verses of Mark. Would that have been enough to keep you listening or reading?
Right at the beginning, in the very first sentence, Mark tells his hearers something really outrageous - Jesus is not just good news but the Son of God. Mark is under no illusion as to what he wants his hearers to think; the story of Jesus is the story of the Messiah.
Mark then goes on to spend the rest of the passage backing up this extraordinary claim, not by talking about Jesus, but by talking about his cousin, John the Baptist, as the one who points forwards towards Jesus.
I think we probably underestimate the importance of John. At this time of year, it is easy to think of him as little more than Jesus’ warm up act. Yet John is mentioned 90 times in the New Testament, exceeded only by Jesus, Paul and Peter. John is really significant in his own right.
Mark clearly thinks so for he places John firmly in the tradition of the prophets with multiple references to his prophetic identity – the location of John’s ministry in the wilderness; the way it attracted rural and city folk alike; the description of John’s clothing and diet.
And then there is the reference to John’s unwillingness to untie the sandals of the one who is coming after him – a clear reference to the most menial of tasks for the most junior of slaves.
Finally, John the Baptist compares his baptism of water with the baptism of the Holy Spirit that is to come.
By comparing John the Baptist with Jesus, Mark is making clear his belief about the uniqueness of Jesus’ identity. What we understand about Jesus is in the context of John’s prophetic identity and ministry of repentance. John is great, but Jesus is greater.
The clarity with which Mark begins his gospel is in stark contrast to later in the story when Mark describes the many times that the disciples simply didn’t understand who Jesus really was.
It’s as if Mark is saying to us – this is what I think, next I want you to listen to the story as it unfolds with all its tales of disbelief and deceit; and then, when it’s all over, make up your own mind. Do you believe in Jesus or not?
The relevance of that challenge for us today is just as great as it was for the first hearers of Mark’s gospel. And at this time of year, the challenge is greater than ever. We know – or think we know - the advent and Christmas stories so well it is easy to hear them without thinking about them at all.
This is why it is important to keep rehearsing the stories of our faith, year after year. Not only to ensure that more people have the chance to hear them for the first time, but so that we – for whom they are so familiar – might hear them afresh, as if we have never heard them before. Then the Holy Spirit can have room to breathe even more new life and energy into our faith.
This process of remembering is not just about our ability to recall stories accurately or understand the nuances of scripture more fully. It is about our willingness, our openness, to the possibility of entering into the story again, in the story of our own lives.
For the story of God’s relationship with his people, as revealed in scripture, exists to draw us into the living story of God’s relationship with each one of us today.
The Eucharist is perhaps the perfect example of this. Every time we remember and re-enact the story of the last supper, we pray that the presence of Christ will be made known to each one us again through bread and wine. This act of remembrance then takes on a dynamic life of its own as we are sent out in the power of the Holy Spirit to live and serve the Lord.
As we make our preparations for Christmas, let us pray that like John our lives can point towards Jesus, and that through us, others may be drawn into an awareness of the presence of God in their lives.
Amen.
How do you go about reading a new book?
Are you the kind of person who starts at the beginning and persists page-by-page right through to the end? Or perhaps you dip into the middle at random to get a feel as to whether it’s going to keep your attention? Or are you more like me – I will often just read the first chapter or introduction of a new book, and whether I read any further at all will depend entirely on whether the author has fully got my attention from the word go. In fact, if the first sentence isn’t good enough, I might not get further than that.
Mark’s gospel can be read in all these ways. It’s short enough to read the entire book in about half an hour. And if you’ve never done that, I do recommend it - just to get a feel of the speed and urgency with which Mark tells Jesus’ story. We often think of Jesus’ ministry lasting three years, yet in Mark’s gospel it could all have happened in just nine months.
Or you can dip into Mark at any point and get a glimpse of the Jesus story, although – like the disciples in Mark’s gospel – it may prove difficult to grasp Jesus’ entire message that way.
But what impression do we get if we just read the beginning?
Try to imagine that you know nothing else of Jesus’ story except this morning’s gospel reading: the first eight verses of Mark. Would that have been enough to keep you listening or reading?
Right at the beginning, in the very first sentence, Mark tells his hearers something really outrageous - Jesus is not just good news but the Son of God. Mark is under no illusion as to what he wants his hearers to think; the story of Jesus is the story of the Messiah.
Mark then goes on to spend the rest of the passage backing up this extraordinary claim, not by talking about Jesus, but by talking about his cousin, John the Baptist, as the one who points forwards towards Jesus.
I think we probably underestimate the importance of John. At this time of year, it is easy to think of him as little more than Jesus’ warm up act. Yet John is mentioned 90 times in the New Testament, exceeded only by Jesus, Paul and Peter. John is really significant in his own right.
Mark clearly thinks so for he places John firmly in the tradition of the prophets with multiple references to his prophetic identity – the location of John’s ministry in the wilderness; the way it attracted rural and city folk alike; the description of John’s clothing and diet.
And then there is the reference to John’s unwillingness to untie the sandals of the one who is coming after him – a clear reference to the most menial of tasks for the most junior of slaves.
Finally, John the Baptist compares his baptism of water with the baptism of the Holy Spirit that is to come.
By comparing John the Baptist with Jesus, Mark is making clear his belief about the uniqueness of Jesus’ identity. What we understand about Jesus is in the context of John’s prophetic identity and ministry of repentance. John is great, but Jesus is greater.
The clarity with which Mark begins his gospel is in stark contrast to later in the story when Mark describes the many times that the disciples simply didn’t understand who Jesus really was.
It’s as if Mark is saying to us – this is what I think, next I want you to listen to the story as it unfolds with all its tales of disbelief and deceit; and then, when it’s all over, make up your own mind. Do you believe in Jesus or not?
The relevance of that challenge for us today is just as great as it was for the first hearers of Mark’s gospel. And at this time of year, the challenge is greater than ever. We know – or think we know - the advent and Christmas stories so well it is easy to hear them without thinking about them at all.
This is why it is important to keep rehearsing the stories of our faith, year after year. Not only to ensure that more people have the chance to hear them for the first time, but so that we – for whom they are so familiar – might hear them afresh, as if we have never heard them before. Then the Holy Spirit can have room to breathe even more new life and energy into our faith.
This process of remembering is not just about our ability to recall stories accurately or understand the nuances of scripture more fully. It is about our willingness, our openness, to the possibility of entering into the story again, in the story of our own lives.
For the story of God’s relationship with his people, as revealed in scripture, exists to draw us into the living story of God’s relationship with each one of us today.
The Eucharist is perhaps the perfect example of this. Every time we remember and re-enact the story of the last supper, we pray that the presence of Christ will be made known to each one us again through bread and wine. This act of remembrance then takes on a dynamic life of its own as we are sent out in the power of the Holy Spirit to live and serve the Lord.
As we make our preparations for Christmas, let us pray that like John our lives can point towards Jesus, and that through us, others may be drawn into an awareness of the presence of God in their lives.
Amen.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
I think I owe you an explanation...
Following complaints about my silence I thought it was about time I 're-appeared'. So what I have been doing for three weeks?
Well if I answer that I start to get into defensive mode. My absence is easily explained - I've simply been making other things more of a priority than this. Life comprises a complex blend of work, college, family and church - and although my diary is empty for this week, it is more than filled with an essay for college and several services to prepare as well as paid work.
One activity occupying me a lot though is 'freecycle' - a wonderful web-based community of people keen to offload their unwanted items onto one another. If you can resist what others are offering, it is a wonderful way to de-clutter without going to all the hassle (and potential finanacial reward) of doing a boot fair. So far this week we have passed on two kitchen worktops, a collection of beer making equipment, a miscellaneous collection of wooden rails and 116 paving bricks. Now I don't think we could easily have sold any of these which is good news for the local tip as that is where they would inevitably have ended up. Or perhaps we are simply indulging ourselves in delaying tactics and passing on the burden of disposal?
In today's economic climate this all feels very good though. And if you're wondering why this can be considered remotely theological then take a look at the fifth mark of mission that many of the churches embraced a few years back.
This coming weekend sees me involved in both All Saints and All Souls services on Sunday. For some reason I see this weekend as the start of the big countdown to Christmas. But then it is snowing as I write this so I'm probably just feeling slightly wintery.
All Saints and All Souls are a fascinating combination to celebrate on the same day. Two sides of the same coin. We're all part of the company of heaven and the distinction between those who are alive and those who aren't is incidental. And I wonder which are truly alive anyway? The dead or the living? The living or the dead?
Well if I answer that I start to get into defensive mode. My absence is easily explained - I've simply been making other things more of a priority than this. Life comprises a complex blend of work, college, family and church - and although my diary is empty for this week, it is more than filled with an essay for college and several services to prepare as well as paid work.
One activity occupying me a lot though is 'freecycle' - a wonderful web-based community of people keen to offload their unwanted items onto one another. If you can resist what others are offering, it is a wonderful way to de-clutter without going to all the hassle (and potential finanacial reward) of doing a boot fair. So far this week we have passed on two kitchen worktops, a collection of beer making equipment, a miscellaneous collection of wooden rails and 116 paving bricks. Now I don't think we could easily have sold any of these which is good news for the local tip as that is where they would inevitably have ended up. Or perhaps we are simply indulging ourselves in delaying tactics and passing on the burden of disposal?
In today's economic climate this all feels very good though. And if you're wondering why this can be considered remotely theological then take a look at the fifth mark of mission that many of the churches embraced a few years back.
This coming weekend sees me involved in both All Saints and All Souls services on Sunday. For some reason I see this weekend as the start of the big countdown to Christmas. But then it is snowing as I write this so I'm probably just feeling slightly wintery.
All Saints and All Souls are a fascinating combination to celebrate on the same day. Two sides of the same coin. We're all part of the company of heaven and the distinction between those who are alive and those who aren't is incidental. And I wonder which are truly alive anyway? The dead or the living? The living or the dead?
Thursday, 9 October 2008
More thoughts from Iona...
Yesterday brought bright sunshine and the possibility of a boat trip to the island of Staffa, the home of Fingal's Cave that inspired Mendelssohn to compose his Hebrides Overture. The cave itself is stunning of course, but I was moved more by the geological construction of the island as a whole which is quite breathtaking. The volcanic events that created it must have been awesome in their destructive power and yet the result is amazing beauty. Surely no architect - other than a supreme creater - could design such a place?
Not one for heights I didn't stay in the cave for long but returned along the narrow walkway to head up above onto the top of Staffa and across to the other side. There I found another natural and wondrous sight - a large grey seal basking in the shallows a few yards from its recently born (7-10 days?) pup. I hesitatingly made my way down the bank and onto their beach, careful to keep my distance and avoid being noticed. For some minutes I simply sat and watched and took a few pictures.
Full of admiration for our skipper who managed to land and collect us on a tiny pier amidst an increasing swell we made our way back to Iona - a ride that became increasingly bumpy. The weather was deterioating and that has continued through to today. The ferry is still working but it doesn't look comfortable out there.
Liz and I spent the afternoon walking up Dùn Ì (101 m, 331 ft), Iona's only hill, from where we had glorious views right over to Coll in the north and Islay in the South. Then just before dinner a pair of porpoises could be seen playing around the ferry as it made its way back to Fionnphort
With nothing but rain today I have now moved on to reading Walter Brueggemann's 'The Word Militant: Preaching a Decentering Word'. Every page excites me - like every other book of his I've read - and although the book is shorter than it looks (for Brueggemann is generous with his notes!) the value to be derived from almost every paragraph makes it - for me - far more valuable than other less precise writers (some of whom seem to stretch articles into volumes when they don't deserve it). Let's hope my preaching listens to his wisdom.
Not one for heights I didn't stay in the cave for long but returned along the narrow walkway to head up above onto the top of Staffa and across to the other side. There I found another natural and wondrous sight - a large grey seal basking in the shallows a few yards from its recently born (7-10 days?) pup. I hesitatingly made my way down the bank and onto their beach, careful to keep my distance and avoid being noticed. For some minutes I simply sat and watched and took a few pictures.
Full of admiration for our skipper who managed to land and collect us on a tiny pier amidst an increasing swell we made our way back to Iona - a ride that became increasingly bumpy. The weather was deterioating and that has continued through to today. The ferry is still working but it doesn't look comfortable out there.
Liz and I spent the afternoon walking up Dùn Ì (101 m, 331 ft), Iona's only hill, from where we had glorious views right over to Coll in the north and Islay in the South. Then just before dinner a pair of porpoises could be seen playing around the ferry as it made its way back to Fionnphort
With nothing but rain today I have now moved on to reading Walter Brueggemann's 'The Word Militant: Preaching a Decentering Word'. Every page excites me - like every other book of his I've read - and although the book is shorter than it looks (for Brueggemann is generous with his notes!) the value to be derived from almost every paragraph makes it - for me - far more valuable than other less precise writers (some of whom seem to stretch articles into volumes when they don't deserve it). Let's hope my preaching listens to his wisdom.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
Misc thoughts from Iona...
A particularly poignant moment for me this morning when I came across the very simple grave of John Smith in the Abbey cemetery. I wonder how different the last 11 years might have been if he had lived to led the Labour Party through a successful general election in 19971? That thought is a reminder perhaps that we can only live in the present, and that this is the true purpose of a memorial - to help ensure that the mistakes of the past are not repeated and the dreams of yesterday never forgotten.
The weather is not good which has meant much of today has been spent inside reading although Liz and I did make it onto the beach this morning. We also had lunch in the Heritage Centre (the old vicarage), visited the parish church (designed by Thomas Telford) and had an interesting discussion about beekeeping with one of the local artists who is contemplating it as a new hobby.
And we've been to worship too of course. Both at Bishop's House, the local Episcopal Church retreat house where we participated in the Eucharist and at the Abbey for the weekly Healing Service led by members of the Iona Community.
I am reading all sorts of things this week as you might expect. I will shortly finish Take This Bread by Sarah Miles, an amazing story about Christian conversion and the importance of food as a central tenet of Christian community in the broadest Eucharistic sense. It has interesting parallels perhaps with Barbara Glasson's 'bread church' in Manchester. Both raise challenging questions about the extent to which churches should and can be inclusive. They are also both intensely contextual in the way that mission emerges from a process of theological reflection - visions of what might be are not our ideas but God's and we need to be open to being dragged into things and places that make us feel distinctly uncomfortable.
More tomorrow perhaps, especially if we manage to climb Iona's only hill...
The weather is not good which has meant much of today has been spent inside reading although Liz and I did make it onto the beach this morning. We also had lunch in the Heritage Centre (the old vicarage), visited the parish church (designed by Thomas Telford) and had an interesting discussion about beekeeping with one of the local artists who is contemplating it as a new hobby.
And we've been to worship too of course. Both at Bishop's House, the local Episcopal Church retreat house where we participated in the Eucharist and at the Abbey for the weekly Healing Service led by members of the Iona Community.
I am reading all sorts of things this week as you might expect. I will shortly finish Take This Bread by Sarah Miles, an amazing story about Christian conversion and the importance of food as a central tenet of Christian community in the broadest Eucharistic sense. It has interesting parallels perhaps with Barbara Glasson's 'bread church' in Manchester. Both raise challenging questions about the extent to which churches should and can be inclusive. They are also both intensely contextual in the way that mission emerges from a process of theological reflection - visions of what might be are not our ideas but God's and we need to be open to being dragged into things and places that make us feel distinctly uncomfortable.
More tomorrow perhaps, especially if we manage to climb Iona's only hill...
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