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
Thursday, 11 December 2008
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...
Thursday, 2 October 2008
The missionary opportunities of economic depression
The raw awfulness of the current economic downturn (or should we be honest and say recession?) is heartbreaking. But what kind of opportunities does it present the church?
Many will rightly want to respond at a social level to ease the worst effects of economic hardship. But I think there is also a role for a more prophetic witness.
A few prophetic critical voices from within the churches were warning us of the difficult times ahead well over a year ago. We need to find new ways of helping those voices to be heard in our churches, leave alone beyond them.
For prophecy is not about predicting the future but of drawing attention to the true nature of reality. And so the need for prophetic witness during this recession is no less important now that it is upon us. Arguably it is even more important.
So what is reality as it faces us today?
I'm old enough to remember homework by candlelight in the 1970s and my parents having to queue up for a mortgage. Those days may not return in precisely that form, but the speed of economic change is now slowing rapidly and might remain slow in this country for years.
The UK economy is largely driven by the housing market. So if first time buyers are required to save 25% of their house value, instead of nothing or even just 5% (which was my situation in 1986), the impact on the wider economy is instant. Spending across the board disappears as people save.
The side effect of that is that people will need to find alternative forms of entertainment and focus for their time and energy. Doing up the newly acquired house is not an option. And there is less and less equity to spend on hobbies and holidays - even if you can access the credit.
As economic times get tougher, there are therefore fewer and fewer ways to avoid the difficult stuff of live - like relationships.
So people will need to turn to friends, family or wider engagement in community, including the churches, to find meaning, purpose and occupation.
If people can't spend their way to happiness, isn't that an opportunity to promote other routes to satisfaction - including those that don't cost a bean?
Challenging economic times present the church with a huge missionary opportunity. Are we up to it?
Many will rightly want to respond at a social level to ease the worst effects of economic hardship. But I think there is also a role for a more prophetic witness.
A few prophetic critical voices from within the churches were warning us of the difficult times ahead well over a year ago. We need to find new ways of helping those voices to be heard in our churches, leave alone beyond them.
For prophecy is not about predicting the future but of drawing attention to the true nature of reality. And so the need for prophetic witness during this recession is no less important now that it is upon us. Arguably it is even more important.
So what is reality as it faces us today?
I'm old enough to remember homework by candlelight in the 1970s and my parents having to queue up for a mortgage. Those days may not return in precisely that form, but the speed of economic change is now slowing rapidly and might remain slow in this country for years.
The UK economy is largely driven by the housing market. So if first time buyers are required to save 25% of their house value, instead of nothing or even just 5% (which was my situation in 1986), the impact on the wider economy is instant. Spending across the board disappears as people save.
The side effect of that is that people will need to find alternative forms of entertainment and focus for their time and energy. Doing up the newly acquired house is not an option. And there is less and less equity to spend on hobbies and holidays - even if you can access the credit.
As economic times get tougher, there are therefore fewer and fewer ways to avoid the difficult stuff of live - like relationships.
So people will need to turn to friends, family or wider engagement in community, including the churches, to find meaning, purpose and occupation.
If people can't spend their way to happiness, isn't that an opportunity to promote other routes to satisfaction - including those that don't cost a bean?
Challenging economic times present the church with a huge missionary opportunity. Are we up to it?
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
EDF, British Energy and the Kingdom of God
I admit that the relationship between these three is not immediately apparent.
EDF is the 85% French Government-owned energy firm that has agreed to buy British Energy, the private company that owns eight UK nuclear power plants.
The Kingdom of God, of course, is keenly awaited but there are also many signs of it all around us, if only we would open our eyes and take note.
I struggle though, to see any sign of the Kingdom in the EDF acquisition of British Energy.
First, there is the entire ethical question about nuclear power. If we take our responsibility for God's creation seriously, then our consumption needs today should never be met by imposing thousands of years of nuclear waste on generations to come. I'd rather light a candle after dark.
Second, there is the thorny implication of a foreign power having a significant hold over another country's energy supply. In one sense, this is an example of globalisation, a development that in principle could work towards 'one world', although of course we know that in practice globalisation is built upon the concept of exploitation not partnership. So France and Britain may be together on energy - but opposed to whom? Russia? Hardly a strategy for building the Kingdom.
Third, there is the question of the consumer. Where are the interests of the consumer in this deal? Security of supply? Perhaps. Price? Certainly not; for the new company becomes the largest single energy supplier in Britain by a sizeable margin. Energy may be getting more expensive, but think of the shareholder value rising in response to market share increasing...
So there is an inverse relationship between EDF and British Energy on the one hand, and the Kingdom of God on the other. This deal points away from the Kingdom.
So if we think this deal is acceptable, to what extent are our eyes being manipulated to look away from God and God's call to live Kingdom values?
It's a scary thought - because this kind of issue is replicated hundreds of times a day in each of our lives.
So when we do glimpse the Kingdom, let us draw attention to it with as much commitment and energy as EDF and British Energy announce their commerical deals.
The Kingdom needs strong advocates, and God only has us.
EDF is the 85% French Government-owned energy firm that has agreed to buy British Energy, the private company that owns eight UK nuclear power plants.
The Kingdom of God, of course, is keenly awaited but there are also many signs of it all around us, if only we would open our eyes and take note.
I struggle though, to see any sign of the Kingdom in the EDF acquisition of British Energy.
First, there is the entire ethical question about nuclear power. If we take our responsibility for God's creation seriously, then our consumption needs today should never be met by imposing thousands of years of nuclear waste on generations to come. I'd rather light a candle after dark.
Second, there is the thorny implication of a foreign power having a significant hold over another country's energy supply. In one sense, this is an example of globalisation, a development that in principle could work towards 'one world', although of course we know that in practice globalisation is built upon the concept of exploitation not partnership. So France and Britain may be together on energy - but opposed to whom? Russia? Hardly a strategy for building the Kingdom.
Third, there is the question of the consumer. Where are the interests of the consumer in this deal? Security of supply? Perhaps. Price? Certainly not; for the new company becomes the largest single energy supplier in Britain by a sizeable margin. Energy may be getting more expensive, but think of the shareholder value rising in response to market share increasing...
So there is an inverse relationship between EDF and British Energy on the one hand, and the Kingdom of God on the other. This deal points away from the Kingdom.
So if we think this deal is acceptable, to what extent are our eyes being manipulated to look away from God and God's call to live Kingdom values?
It's a scary thought - because this kind of issue is replicated hundreds of times a day in each of our lives.
So when we do glimpse the Kingdom, let us draw attention to it with as much commitment and energy as EDF and British Energy announce their commerical deals.
The Kingdom needs strong advocates, and God only has us.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Sermon for Holy Cross Sunday, Trininty 17
Who here has been to the London Dungeon? Or to the Tower of London? Or even to the beautiful Warwick Castle?
Yes, I thought most of us would have been.
They may all be wonderful days out, but they also have something else in common. They all feature horrible instruments of torture. There you will find every conceivable device used over the centuries to inflict pain, humiliation and death on victims both guilty and innocent.
Sadly torture isn’t something just of ancient history. More recently, Birmingham was the manufacturing hub of the slave trade and produced all kinds of gruesome things. And we should be angry and not simply embarrassed or ashamed, that there are still companies in this country manufacturing torture equipment for sale abroad.
So if we all agree that torture is horrible and bad, what are we doing celebrating the cross, one of the most dreadful means of execution ever known? And how come we call it holy?
Gospel
This morning’s reading might be short but it is also includes one of the most well known and most frequently repeated pieces of scripture.
A really important Jewish ruler called Nicodemus has just visited Jesus in the night. In their long discussions it becomes clear that Nicodemus wants to believe in Jesus but is struggling to get his head around the implications for his Jewish faith. And so Jesus links himself with an ancient story about Moses. Just as Moses was guided by God to protect the rebellious people of Israel from an invasion of snakes by using a bronze serpent, so Jesus, guided by God, journeyed to the cross and in so doing revealed the means by which we too are protected and may receive eternal life.
John 3: 13-17
“No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
Through God’s grace may these truths be known to each of us this day, Thanks be to God.
So far this morning then we have reminded ourselves that the cross is an instrument of torture, that the cross is a central symbol of the Christian faith but comes in all shapes and sizes, sometimes with Jesus and sometimes without, and that the gospel tradition reveals Jesus as capable of delivering salvation to his people in a very similar way to that of Moses in the Old Testament.
I think it is quite easy at times to forget the reality of Jesus’ death on the cross. It was a brutal, lingering death. The passion stories in the gospels tell us not only of the physical pain but the enormous emotional and spiritual struggles too – and let’s not forget the huge pain for his family and for God as well, watching and grieving.
Yet we know of course that the cross was not the end of the story. God in Jesus transforms the cross from the scene of execution to a symbol of resurrection. And in doing so Jesus shows us how we can be transformed too.
Many of us here I imagine wear a cross as a symbol of our faith – some of us may wear a crucifix with an image of the dying Christ on the cross, others may wear a plain cross, which for me signifies the risen Christ.
Whichever we choose, we are choosing to connect ourselves to this story of transformation – from death to life, from meaningless loss to meaningful gain, from confusion and despair to hope and purpose.
The cross makes sense as a symbol of Christianity, only because of what Jesus did with it. And what Jesus did was only possible because he was both human and divine.
Through Jesus dying on the cross, God in Jesus revealed the depth of his love for us and illustrated God’s undying commitment to us. A commitment that stretches beyond death and into resurrection.
But the cross represents more than this too. It also shows us the route back into a full and loving relationship with God.
God wants to love us into eternal life through an active faith in the life, mission, ministry and death of Jesus.
And so the cross is holy because it acts as a reminder that each one of us is loved to a depth beyond all human experience of love.
And it acts as a reminder of God’s invitation to us, to respond to such love, with all the divine love we can muster, and to pass on God’s love through our own lives and relationships.
And so on this Holy Cross Day, as we celebrate the symbol of the cross, and come together once again in the Eucharist as the community of faith, let us pray that each one of us may know afresh the depth of God’s love for us.
Yes, I thought most of us would have been.
They may all be wonderful days out, but they also have something else in common. They all feature horrible instruments of torture. There you will find every conceivable device used over the centuries to inflict pain, humiliation and death on victims both guilty and innocent.
Sadly torture isn’t something just of ancient history. More recently, Birmingham was the manufacturing hub of the slave trade and produced all kinds of gruesome things. And we should be angry and not simply embarrassed or ashamed, that there are still companies in this country manufacturing torture equipment for sale abroad.
So if we all agree that torture is horrible and bad, what are we doing celebrating the cross, one of the most dreadful means of execution ever known? And how come we call it holy?
Gospel
This morning’s reading might be short but it is also includes one of the most well known and most frequently repeated pieces of scripture.
A really important Jewish ruler called Nicodemus has just visited Jesus in the night. In their long discussions it becomes clear that Nicodemus wants to believe in Jesus but is struggling to get his head around the implications for his Jewish faith. And so Jesus links himself with an ancient story about Moses. Just as Moses was guided by God to protect the rebellious people of Israel from an invasion of snakes by using a bronze serpent, so Jesus, guided by God, journeyed to the cross and in so doing revealed the means by which we too are protected and may receive eternal life.
John 3: 13-17
“No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
Through God’s grace may these truths be known to each of us this day, Thanks be to God.
So far this morning then we have reminded ourselves that the cross is an instrument of torture, that the cross is a central symbol of the Christian faith but comes in all shapes and sizes, sometimes with Jesus and sometimes without, and that the gospel tradition reveals Jesus as capable of delivering salvation to his people in a very similar way to that of Moses in the Old Testament.
I think it is quite easy at times to forget the reality of Jesus’ death on the cross. It was a brutal, lingering death. The passion stories in the gospels tell us not only of the physical pain but the enormous emotional and spiritual struggles too – and let’s not forget the huge pain for his family and for God as well, watching and grieving.
Yet we know of course that the cross was not the end of the story. God in Jesus transforms the cross from the scene of execution to a symbol of resurrection. And in doing so Jesus shows us how we can be transformed too.
Many of us here I imagine wear a cross as a symbol of our faith – some of us may wear a crucifix with an image of the dying Christ on the cross, others may wear a plain cross, which for me signifies the risen Christ.
Whichever we choose, we are choosing to connect ourselves to this story of transformation – from death to life, from meaningless loss to meaningful gain, from confusion and despair to hope and purpose.
The cross makes sense as a symbol of Christianity, only because of what Jesus did with it. And what Jesus did was only possible because he was both human and divine.
Through Jesus dying on the cross, God in Jesus revealed the depth of his love for us and illustrated God’s undying commitment to us. A commitment that stretches beyond death and into resurrection.
But the cross represents more than this too. It also shows us the route back into a full and loving relationship with God.
God wants to love us into eternal life through an active faith in the life, mission, ministry and death of Jesus.
And so the cross is holy because it acts as a reminder that each one of us is loved to a depth beyond all human experience of love.
And it acts as a reminder of God’s invitation to us, to respond to such love, with all the divine love we can muster, and to pass on God’s love through our own lives and relationships.
And so on this Holy Cross Day, as we celebrate the symbol of the cross, and come together once again in the Eucharist as the community of faith, let us pray that each one of us may know afresh the depth of God’s love for us.
Friday, 12 September 2008
Pretty Amazing Grace
Ever since I heard this Neil Diamond track I have been entranced by its simplicity and accuracy as a description of the graceful generosity with which God has reached out to humanity in Jesus.
Now I have no idea what religious or spiritual motivation lies behind the writing or singing of this track. Although the line "You stood beside a wretch like me" certainly has echoes of Newton's Amazing Grace.
What I do know is that it has the potential to generate a response of a spiritual dimension from people with little or no attachment to institutionalised religion.
Which in turn makes the song a vehicle for God's grace.
The idea of grace begetting grace is well established. In 'Round Ireland with a fridge' Tony Hawkes recalls an incident in which having received a gift (I think it was a lift in a van with his fridge) Hawkes asks what he can do in return. The response was simple and direct: pass it on.
Having received a gift, instead of simply returning it to its source, we should instead pass it on to someone else.
That sounds like a good description of Christian discipleship to me.
Now I have no idea what religious or spiritual motivation lies behind the writing or singing of this track. Although the line "You stood beside a wretch like me" certainly has echoes of Newton's Amazing Grace.
What I do know is that it has the potential to generate a response of a spiritual dimension from people with little or no attachment to institutionalised religion.
Which in turn makes the song a vehicle for God's grace.
The idea of grace begetting grace is well established. In 'Round Ireland with a fridge' Tony Hawkes recalls an incident in which having received a gift (I think it was a lift in a van with his fridge) Hawkes asks what he can do in return. The response was simple and direct: pass it on.
Having received a gift, instead of simply returning it to its source, we should instead pass it on to someone else.
That sounds like a good description of Christian discipleship to me.
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Retreat into the world
I'm back.
I guess an apology is due for the misdescription of the sub-title of this blog as for the past ten days it has certainly not appeared daily.
All sorts of reasons for my absence of course, but the main one is that I was on retreat last week and then Liz, Becky, Rose and I went to Gatwick with Kieran to wish him off on his gap year in Uganda before having a really busy weekend. And then I've been catching up with work of course....So I'll see if I can improve in my regularity for the rest of the week.
But for tonight a short word about my retreat.
Although I am not as regular a retreatant as perhaps I would wish, I do go on retreat about once a year. Yet this was the first time I went completely on my own in a totally unstructured way. That made it both much more difficult and much more rewarding.
More difficult because I have to really try hard not to be occupied with the inevitably tall pile of reading I took with me.
More rewarding because there is a greater opportunity to find true silence on your own, unencumbered by a retreat leaders own thoughts.
So I shaped my day by the regular worship at Launde Abbey, did a bit of walking, a bit of reading and writing, and a very great deal of thinking...
The result was that by being more focused than usual, I felt a great deal more involved in the world around me. That world had smaller horizons but I had a more intense relationship with it - a more real engagement with people and place - and of course, with self.
And so just as the desert fathers found, and just as monastic communities have found for hundreds of years, retreating from the world can provide a very real opportunity to enter more fully into it.
Which begs the question - what are we doing most of the time? Is my normal routine of life totally superficial?
I hope not. But I have returned more committed to prayer as the foundation of all that I do.
On a more practical note, I know some people are having problems with posting comments (which is why there aren't any I imagine!). I am looking into it....
I guess an apology is due for the misdescription of the sub-title of this blog as for the past ten days it has certainly not appeared daily.
All sorts of reasons for my absence of course, but the main one is that I was on retreat last week and then Liz, Becky, Rose and I went to Gatwick with Kieran to wish him off on his gap year in Uganda before having a really busy weekend. And then I've been catching up with work of course....So I'll see if I can improve in my regularity for the rest of the week.
But for tonight a short word about my retreat.
Although I am not as regular a retreatant as perhaps I would wish, I do go on retreat about once a year. Yet this was the first time I went completely on my own in a totally unstructured way. That made it both much more difficult and much more rewarding.
More difficult because I have to really try hard not to be occupied with the inevitably tall pile of reading I took with me.
More rewarding because there is a greater opportunity to find true silence on your own, unencumbered by a retreat leaders own thoughts.
So I shaped my day by the regular worship at Launde Abbey, did a bit of walking, a bit of reading and writing, and a very great deal of thinking...
The result was that by being more focused than usual, I felt a great deal more involved in the world around me. That world had smaller horizons but I had a more intense relationship with it - a more real engagement with people and place - and of course, with self.
And so just as the desert fathers found, and just as monastic communities have found for hundreds of years, retreating from the world can provide a very real opportunity to enter more fully into it.
Which begs the question - what are we doing most of the time? Is my normal routine of life totally superficial?
I hope not. But I have returned more committed to prayer as the foundation of all that I do.
On a more practical note, I know some people are having problems with posting comments (which is why there aren't any I imagine!). I am looking into it....
Sunday, 31 August 2008
On retreat
Tomorrow is Sept 1st of course, the month that in England at least marks the beginning of a new academic year.
And it is with the new academic year in mind that I am taking myself off to Launde Abbey for a few days of quiet reflection. For this year, September marks the beginning of my final year of ministerial training (it also marks much else, but more on that later in the week).
As yet I don't know how I will spend the next few days, apart from enjoying Launde's hospitality and participating in the daily fourfold cycle of worship.
What I do appreciate is the generosity of others that enable me to take time out (in particular Liz who is staying at home this time); the fact that I am sufficiently comfortable financially to pay for an individual retreat; and the commitment of so many people at Launde who will make the next few days really valuable.
Recognising our blessings and accepting them with all the grace with which they are freely offered is one way in which we can value ourselves and others. The next few days will be of little value to me if I fill them with guilt about what I'm not doing or who is not with me. The magnitude of that statement is clear given that our son Kieran leaves for a year in Uganda this coming Friday night.
So I leave for Launde in the morning, hugely supported by folks at home. The depth of that support can be seen in the family's recognition that part of my journey towards ordination must be travelled by me alone. It is my journey, and implicit in that is a sense of separation.
Yet none of us is truly ever alone, as we can never be separated from the love of God. And divine love is at its very best when revealed and shared within the human family.
And it is with the new academic year in mind that I am taking myself off to Launde Abbey for a few days of quiet reflection. For this year, September marks the beginning of my final year of ministerial training (it also marks much else, but more on that later in the week).
As yet I don't know how I will spend the next few days, apart from enjoying Launde's hospitality and participating in the daily fourfold cycle of worship.
What I do appreciate is the generosity of others that enable me to take time out (in particular Liz who is staying at home this time); the fact that I am sufficiently comfortable financially to pay for an individual retreat; and the commitment of so many people at Launde who will make the next few days really valuable.
Recognising our blessings and accepting them with all the grace with which they are freely offered is one way in which we can value ourselves and others. The next few days will be of little value to me if I fill them with guilt about what I'm not doing or who is not with me. The magnitude of that statement is clear given that our son Kieran leaves for a year in Uganda this coming Friday night.
So I leave for Launde in the morning, hugely supported by folks at home. The depth of that support can be seen in the family's recognition that part of my journey towards ordination must be travelled by me alone. It is my journey, and implicit in that is a sense of separation.
Yet none of us is truly ever alone, as we can never be separated from the love of God. And divine love is at its very best when revealed and shared within the human family.
Saturday, 30 August 2008
Getting life into perspective
Let me tell you about two experiences today - quite different but both revealing.
The first relates to the Internet. Now we've had wireless internet in our house for probably around five years. About 8 months ago the internal wireless functionality on my laptop gave up which meant I was restricted to using my computer in one room in the house.
A couple of days ago I decided I couldn't stand this 'restriction on my freedom' any longer and so purchased a wireless card for the laptop and I am now back fully wireless and independent.
The point in telling you all this is that I have been startled by my reaction to my latest acquisiton - I have felt truly liberated all day. I can now sit in the attic (where I do theological things) and still be online - which is great for copying bible passages and extracts from Common Worship of course. Not to mention writing this.
Am I sad or is this scary? Clearly it suggests that for all my stated desire to live simply (zero achievement in this area for the past 20 years) I simply can't do it.
The second experience today was totally unexpected and impossible to predict. As I drove to our local co-op this evening a car pulled up opposite in the road and the young female driver burst into uncontrollable sobbing. Bereavement? Boyfriend bust up? I've no idea, because I didn't stop to ask.
How sad and scary is that?
So here we have two demonstrations in a single day of the current cultural crises in this country. Our obsession with consumerism and information accessibility contrasted with our inability to deal with the stuff that is really important. Individualism has truly won out over community.
Or has it?
Not quite perhaps. After all, I wouldn't be articulating all this without an awareness of and sensitivity to the issues involved.
And that illustrates that hope still exists and penitence still has meaning.
So let' see what stories tomorrow brings.
The first relates to the Internet. Now we've had wireless internet in our house for probably around five years. About 8 months ago the internal wireless functionality on my laptop gave up which meant I was restricted to using my computer in one room in the house.
A couple of days ago I decided I couldn't stand this 'restriction on my freedom' any longer and so purchased a wireless card for the laptop and I am now back fully wireless and independent.
The point in telling you all this is that I have been startled by my reaction to my latest acquisiton - I have felt truly liberated all day. I can now sit in the attic (where I do theological things) and still be online - which is great for copying bible passages and extracts from Common Worship of course. Not to mention writing this.
Am I sad or is this scary? Clearly it suggests that for all my stated desire to live simply (zero achievement in this area for the past 20 years) I simply can't do it.
The second experience today was totally unexpected and impossible to predict. As I drove to our local co-op this evening a car pulled up opposite in the road and the young female driver burst into uncontrollable sobbing. Bereavement? Boyfriend bust up? I've no idea, because I didn't stop to ask.
How sad and scary is that?
So here we have two demonstrations in a single day of the current cultural crises in this country. Our obsession with consumerism and information accessibility contrasted with our inability to deal with the stuff that is really important. Individualism has truly won out over community.
Or has it?
Not quite perhaps. After all, I wouldn't be articulating all this without an awareness of and sensitivity to the issues involved.
And that illustrates that hope still exists and penitence still has meaning.
So let' see what stories tomorrow brings.
Friday, 29 August 2008
Packing for Uni
Change is the big theme of our house right now. Not only is it just seven days before Kieran begins his 12-month trip to Uganda, but Becky is now busy preparing for Uni (Nottingham). Our spare bedroom is filling up with boxes and Bex has been busy online ordering a drawing board, portfolio and more pencils and pens than it seems possible to use in three years.
So Liz and I are rushing headlong towards that status of 'empty nesters' at the relatively young age of our mid-40s.
It's ironic that for almost twenty years we've been working towards the day that Becky and Kieran can achieve some level of independence - but that now that day is rapidly approaching, the prospect of it is more difficult to come to terms with (particularly compared with say in the middle of night when trying to console a teething three year old to sleep).
The skill of parenting (and it certainly is a skill) is something that we assume exists inately within everyone. Yet when things go wrong society is quick to condemn the inadequate, less than successful parent and reluctant to provide the kind of support, encouragement and learning opportunities that all parents could benefit from.
I am convinced that parenting is an area of massive potential for the church. Given our established role in baptisms, weddings and funerals, extending an interest into the area of parenting seems a natural next step. And surely our wealth of church related schools provides an immediate community of parents to tap into?
For me the Christian model of parenting is something about unconditional love. That's not the same as uncritical love of course, or laissez faire, everything is acceptable kind of love.
Unconditional love is about loving without judging, loving when love might seem far from deserving and loving with a longer timescale in mind - a more divine timescale perhaps - than any child or young adult can grasp. It's the kind of love that seeps through generations and continues to be felt despite the apparently unbridgeable divide of life and death itself.
It's the kind of love that equips youngsters to go off and discover things for themselves and encourages them to then share that same understanding of love with others. Yet it remains the kind of love that is still there at the end of the phone to be called upon whenever. It's the kind of love that rejoices in saying 'yes' and imparts enough wisdom for youngsters to discover how to say 'no' for themselves.
That kind of love is the kind that I was blessed with and continue to experience from my own family. And hopefully it is the kind of love that Becky and Kieran have embraced without, as yet, fully understanding its depths.
It is a deeply Christ-like love, at times sacrificial but more often simply selfless in its desire to want the very best for another.
The church needs to recognise with urgency just how central parenting is to the mission of God. As the context in which love is so frequently expressed and explored, parenting is also the context in which the nature of God is most frequently revealed and experienced.
In ignoring the importance of parenting, are we not making the missionary task of the church infinitely more difficult?
So Liz and I are rushing headlong towards that status of 'empty nesters' at the relatively young age of our mid-40s.
It's ironic that for almost twenty years we've been working towards the day that Becky and Kieran can achieve some level of independence - but that now that day is rapidly approaching, the prospect of it is more difficult to come to terms with (particularly compared with say in the middle of night when trying to console a teething three year old to sleep).
The skill of parenting (and it certainly is a skill) is something that we assume exists inately within everyone. Yet when things go wrong society is quick to condemn the inadequate, less than successful parent and reluctant to provide the kind of support, encouragement and learning opportunities that all parents could benefit from.
I am convinced that parenting is an area of massive potential for the church. Given our established role in baptisms, weddings and funerals, extending an interest into the area of parenting seems a natural next step. And surely our wealth of church related schools provides an immediate community of parents to tap into?
For me the Christian model of parenting is something about unconditional love. That's not the same as uncritical love of course, or laissez faire, everything is acceptable kind of love.
Unconditional love is about loving without judging, loving when love might seem far from deserving and loving with a longer timescale in mind - a more divine timescale perhaps - than any child or young adult can grasp. It's the kind of love that seeps through generations and continues to be felt despite the apparently unbridgeable divide of life and death itself.
It's the kind of love that equips youngsters to go off and discover things for themselves and encourages them to then share that same understanding of love with others. Yet it remains the kind of love that is still there at the end of the phone to be called upon whenever. It's the kind of love that rejoices in saying 'yes' and imparts enough wisdom for youngsters to discover how to say 'no' for themselves.
That kind of love is the kind that I was blessed with and continue to experience from my own family. And hopefully it is the kind of love that Becky and Kieran have embraced without, as yet, fully understanding its depths.
It is a deeply Christ-like love, at times sacrificial but more often simply selfless in its desire to want the very best for another.
The church needs to recognise with urgency just how central parenting is to the mission of God. As the context in which love is so frequently expressed and explored, parenting is also the context in which the nature of God is most frequently revealed and experienced.
In ignoring the importance of parenting, are we not making the missionary task of the church infinitely more difficult?
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
How much are you prepared to pay for an Olympic Gold Medal?
According to the BBC News this evening the British Olympic cycling team received £11.6m in public funding for their Olympic campaign.
Now Britain gained 14 cycling medals at the Olympics which works out at £828,571.43 each.
Do you think that is a good return on investment?
I'm not sure compared with how else the money might have been spent.
I don't want to knock cycling in particular - after all I have both road and mountain bikes. I'm not exactly anti-bike.
But what about all the deserving community groups - many church backed I imagine - who've lost out to the Olympics in the great scramble for lottery funding?
Or who are set to lose out as the country tries to better its performance in 2012? [Something which is neigh impossible given that Russia, USA and China were the only countries to beat the UK in the medals table. Unless of course we are about to invest tens of millions of pounds in gymnastics, table tennis and weight lifting].
This isn't simply a liberal rant by someone whose sporting prowess stretches to being able to walk reasonably quickly.
It's more a comment on our priorities as a nation. Right now this country is devoted to superficial, short-term adrenalin powered success. The kind of success that matters if your only benchmark is tomorrow morning's headlines.
Yet those headlines are irrelevant if you cannot read - and that is one in five adults in the UK.
I wonder how many people could have learnt to read if half the money invested in cycling was invested in additional literacy programmes?
The spiritual health of a nation is not measured in medals nor newspaper headlines.
Look always for how a country looks after its weakest and least powerful. If they are cared for, then there remains a spiritual core to the nation. Which is why Britain is far more secular than many think. We may still be religious and love our churches and cathedrals - but do we really care for one another?
Now Britain gained 14 cycling medals at the Olympics which works out at £828,571.43 each.
Do you think that is a good return on investment?
I'm not sure compared with how else the money might have been spent.
I don't want to knock cycling in particular - after all I have both road and mountain bikes. I'm not exactly anti-bike.
But what about all the deserving community groups - many church backed I imagine - who've lost out to the Olympics in the great scramble for lottery funding?
Or who are set to lose out as the country tries to better its performance in 2012? [Something which is neigh impossible given that Russia, USA and China were the only countries to beat the UK in the medals table. Unless of course we are about to invest tens of millions of pounds in gymnastics, table tennis and weight lifting].
This isn't simply a liberal rant by someone whose sporting prowess stretches to being able to walk reasonably quickly.
It's more a comment on our priorities as a nation. Right now this country is devoted to superficial, short-term adrenalin powered success. The kind of success that matters if your only benchmark is tomorrow morning's headlines.
Yet those headlines are irrelevant if you cannot read - and that is one in five adults in the UK.
I wonder how many people could have learnt to read if half the money invested in cycling was invested in additional literacy programmes?
The spiritual health of a nation is not measured in medals nor newspaper headlines.
Look always for how a country looks after its weakest and least powerful. If they are cared for, then there remains a spiritual core to the nation. Which is why Britain is far more secular than many think. We may still be religious and love our churches and cathedrals - but do we really care for one another?
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Post Greenbelt, post shower...
Arrived back from Greenbelt this morning. Huge success for Blossom the campervan. Slept almost perfectly for five of the seven nights. Celebrated Christmas last night in the beer tent - the Jesus Arms - by singing carols under the Christmas tree...it really is a wierd event.
Spent most of the weekend volunteering in the press office and taking care of some of the 95 journalists that visit Greenbelt. Very interesting to meet such a diverse group of other volunteers not to mention speakers and musicians.
But at the same time as a volunteer you experience Greenbelt in a different way to your ordinary punter. And I'm not sure I wouldn't prefer to buy a ticket next year and forgo the t-shirt, food vouchers and free entry.
Having spent a week at Cheltenham race course I'm also conscious of the big world news that one misses cacooned out of sight of a newspaper or TV screen.
Does that make prayer more or less useful? Or simply different? This debate is really old of course. It goes right back to the desert fathers. Is one more immersed in society by being separated from it?
If I don't know that the Madrid air crash has happened, I cannot pray for those involved. And yet by not knowing this and a ton of other important happenings, I am also freer to focus on the little I do know.
I can turn inwards more effectively, and thus become more available to others outwardly.
Which makes it more possible that the conversations I do have are less superficial, less dominated by events external to the current encounter. Which makes us all more open to the possibilities presented to us by one another.
Is this all a load of tosh? No I don't think so. I've had some conversations this weekend that have only been possibile because I've been available. And that's not just a question of being physically available. It's also about not being distracted by the world, so that I can focus on that part of the world that is present to me here and now.
I'm still not sure whether I should keep the TV. We're about to get of Sky - should we go the whole distance?
Spent most of the weekend volunteering in the press office and taking care of some of the 95 journalists that visit Greenbelt. Very interesting to meet such a diverse group of other volunteers not to mention speakers and musicians.
But at the same time as a volunteer you experience Greenbelt in a different way to your ordinary punter. And I'm not sure I wouldn't prefer to buy a ticket next year and forgo the t-shirt, food vouchers and free entry.
Having spent a week at Cheltenham race course I'm also conscious of the big world news that one misses cacooned out of sight of a newspaper or TV screen.
Does that make prayer more or less useful? Or simply different? This debate is really old of course. It goes right back to the desert fathers. Is one more immersed in society by being separated from it?
If I don't know that the Madrid air crash has happened, I cannot pray for those involved. And yet by not knowing this and a ton of other important happenings, I am also freer to focus on the little I do know.
I can turn inwards more effectively, and thus become more available to others outwardly.
Which makes it more possible that the conversations I do have are less superficial, less dominated by events external to the current encounter. Which makes us all more open to the possibilities presented to us by one another.
Is this all a load of tosh? No I don't think so. I've had some conversations this weekend that have only been possibile because I've been available. And that's not just a question of being physically available. It's also about not being distracted by the world, so that I can focus on that part of the world that is present to me here and now.
I'm still not sure whether I should keep the TV. We're about to get of Sky - should we go the whole distance?
Monday, 18 August 2008
First outing for the campervan!
Tomorrow Becky and I head off to volunteer at Greenbelt. Which means it's the first long awaited outing for Blossom, our campervan. Liz has worked incredibly hard to get it ready. We tested the gas fridge yesterday - and it does work! All we need now is some half decent weather to ensure that the Cheltenham Race Course doesn't turn to mud before the weekend. I'm not hopeful.
We've been waiting for Greenbelt to come round for weeks, months even. Nor is it the only thing we're waiting for. We're waiting for my curacy to be sorted; for Kieran to go to Uganda, for Becky to get off to University, for Liz's reflexology course to start.
Waiting is deceptive. The anticipation of an event places the focus somewhere in the future rather than on today. That translates itself into misplaced energy. Instead of focusing on today's priorities, energy is spent on something over which there is invariably little control. All that we wait for, will happen.
The truth is that today is all there is - the past is memory (rarely accurate) and the future is imagination (often of the wild variety).
All we have is the present moment.
So how am I going to spend it?
Worrying about stuff I can't do anything about or engaging with stuff about which I can make a difference?
I will try the latter and go and make a cup of tea.
We've been waiting for Greenbelt to come round for weeks, months even. Nor is it the only thing we're waiting for. We're waiting for my curacy to be sorted; for Kieran to go to Uganda, for Becky to get off to University, for Liz's reflexology course to start.
Waiting is deceptive. The anticipation of an event places the focus somewhere in the future rather than on today. That translates itself into misplaced energy. Instead of focusing on today's priorities, energy is spent on something over which there is invariably little control. All that we wait for, will happen.
The truth is that today is all there is - the past is memory (rarely accurate) and the future is imagination (often of the wild variety).
All we have is the present moment.
So how am I going to spend it?
Worrying about stuff I can't do anything about or engaging with stuff about which I can make a difference?
I will try the latter and go and make a cup of tea.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday After Trinity
The economic news at the moment is grim. House repossessions up 48% on last year; inflation up to 4.4%; food and energy prices rocketing – eggs up 33% in a year; house values falling; more and more people finding it difficult to borrow money and those who do borrow, borrow too much. The average household debt in the UK – excluding mortgages – is £9300. But average household debt amongst those who actually have unsecured loans is over £21,500. These are grim statistics and they all affect us to one degree or another.
It doesn’t take much to turn a difficult financial situation into an impossible one. It only takes unemployment, an unexpected illness, or the need to care for a relative, to turn a precarious existence into one of near destitution.
It might seem like an enormous leap to link our economic woes with tonight’s Old Testament reading. And yet Elisha was living in times not at all unlike our own. To see this all we need to do is dig a little deeper beneath the storyline. When we do it is possible to see in the way Elisha responded, a way forward for us and the church to respond to the challenges of our time.
One of the beauties of scripture is that it is comprised largely of stories. But like any story or joke we might share with one another, much is left un-said. Just as Dave Walker’s wonderful cartoons in the Church Times don’t need explaining to anyone who is familiar with church life, so scripture assumes vast quantities of shared cultural and religious knowledge, and our understanding of scripture is diminished if we ignore it.
In our Old Testament reading, we heard the story of three of Elisha’s miracles. In the first Elisha solves the impending indenture of the widow’s sons by a quite long-winded miracle that requires her active engagement (and that of her family and neighbours) as more and more oil is miraculously poured into empty jars.
In the second story Elisha miraculously enables a woman to conceive a child, and then – several years later - raises her son from the dead when he dies prematurely.
The significance of these stories can be missed unless we dig deeper into the culture and practice of the time. These aren’t only tales about miraculous happenings.
As we join each story, both women face a precarious future.
The first story is a blunt tale of economic hardship and exploitation. The debts inherited by the woman on the death of her husband meant that her two sons could have been taken into slavery until the debt had been repaid. This in turn would leave the widow vulnerable and destitute without the protection of either husband or sons to earn their livelihood and care for her. On the face of it, this seems a reasonable way to ensure the debt is repaid without the woman losing land or her freedom. But in the 8th century BC, this method of recovering debt was being used systematically to rob farmers of their land. Economic exploitation was as rife then as it is now.
Elisha’s miracle questions the legitimacy of the law, ensures the woman has enough to pay off the debt, and prevents the problem from recurring by ensuring that there is enough left over for the family to survive. The widow’s faith in Elisha and God is rewarded, and God is incredibly generous in the security and peace that the widow receives.
The second story is also about the precariousness of a woman in a patriarchal economic system. In the story, the woman’s husband is clearly alive but elderly. Should he die without a son, she would be destitute. The only option would be her brother-in-law to marry her - but the story doesn’t mention that she has one.
Again Elisha’s action questions the cultural practice of the day that treated women as second class, and instead creates new possibilities for the woman by giving her a son. When he dies prematurely, Elisha responds to the woman’s amazing faith and perseverance, and breathes new life into her son.
[Now if you were in church this morning you might see parallels between this story and the story of Jesus responding to the faith of the Canaanite woman whose daughter was sick. In both stories it is a woman’s strength and determination that leads to healing.]
Interestingly, hospitality plays an important part in both stories. In the first, the widow’s husband was part of the prophet’s circle and so the widow would have been a key part of the wider prophetic family, supporting and enabling the work of the prophets. In the second, the promise of a son is a direct response to the woman’s incredibly generous hospitality in lavishly furnishing a room for the passing prophet.
In both stories Elisha shows how hospitality, accompanied by faith and trust in God, can lead to the miraculous and unexpected.
But they also show that God’s sense of justice and mercy is broad enough to question the social, cultural, economic and religious practices of the day. Ultimately God is interested in individuals, not law or tradition.
The apostle Paul faithfully follows in this Old Testament tradition of protecting the vulnerable; but not before, of course, being completely transformed by his experience of meeting the risen Christ.
Having been brought up to give thanks to God each day that he was not born a slave, a woman or a Gentile, Paul delights in bringing slaves, women and Gentiles to faith in Christ. Importantly the conversion of Lydia, which was in our reading tonight, also involves the offering and receipt of hospitality.
All of us here have received and given hospitality within the context of the Christian community. We know it personally as the means by which we have found fellowship, companionship, a sense of purpose, even love. For that we are immensely grateful, to one another, to the church and to God.
What we are sometimes less willing to acknowledge perhaps, is that hospitality is the means by which God begins to usher in his kingdom, as the stories of Elisha demonstrate.
Hospitality should always be drawing us onward and outward in a spirit of optimistic mission, grounded in faith and trust in God.
Moving from a commitment to hospitality, to a commitment to justice is quite a leap. Yet that is the challenge we face as the church.
The economic injustices of our generation demand that the church speaks up in defence of those who are most vulnerable with the passion and clarity of Elisha and all the prophets. There is no other way by which to reveal the grace of God to those who suffer.
As the economics of our country worsen, let us pray that our faith may be nurtured and strengthened by the witness of the prophets, so that our vision of God, and his Kingdom, is reflected more clearly in the daily witness of our own lives.
Lord, help us to be your prophets in this generation. Amen.
It doesn’t take much to turn a difficult financial situation into an impossible one. It only takes unemployment, an unexpected illness, or the need to care for a relative, to turn a precarious existence into one of near destitution.
It might seem like an enormous leap to link our economic woes with tonight’s Old Testament reading. And yet Elisha was living in times not at all unlike our own. To see this all we need to do is dig a little deeper beneath the storyline. When we do it is possible to see in the way Elisha responded, a way forward for us and the church to respond to the challenges of our time.
One of the beauties of scripture is that it is comprised largely of stories. But like any story or joke we might share with one another, much is left un-said. Just as Dave Walker’s wonderful cartoons in the Church Times don’t need explaining to anyone who is familiar with church life, so scripture assumes vast quantities of shared cultural and religious knowledge, and our understanding of scripture is diminished if we ignore it.
In our Old Testament reading, we heard the story of three of Elisha’s miracles. In the first Elisha solves the impending indenture of the widow’s sons by a quite long-winded miracle that requires her active engagement (and that of her family and neighbours) as more and more oil is miraculously poured into empty jars.
In the second story Elisha miraculously enables a woman to conceive a child, and then – several years later - raises her son from the dead when he dies prematurely.
The significance of these stories can be missed unless we dig deeper into the culture and practice of the time. These aren’t only tales about miraculous happenings.
As we join each story, both women face a precarious future.
The first story is a blunt tale of economic hardship and exploitation. The debts inherited by the woman on the death of her husband meant that her two sons could have been taken into slavery until the debt had been repaid. This in turn would leave the widow vulnerable and destitute without the protection of either husband or sons to earn their livelihood and care for her. On the face of it, this seems a reasonable way to ensure the debt is repaid without the woman losing land or her freedom. But in the 8th century BC, this method of recovering debt was being used systematically to rob farmers of their land. Economic exploitation was as rife then as it is now.
Elisha’s miracle questions the legitimacy of the law, ensures the woman has enough to pay off the debt, and prevents the problem from recurring by ensuring that there is enough left over for the family to survive. The widow’s faith in Elisha and God is rewarded, and God is incredibly generous in the security and peace that the widow receives.
The second story is also about the precariousness of a woman in a patriarchal economic system. In the story, the woman’s husband is clearly alive but elderly. Should he die without a son, she would be destitute. The only option would be her brother-in-law to marry her - but the story doesn’t mention that she has one.
Again Elisha’s action questions the cultural practice of the day that treated women as second class, and instead creates new possibilities for the woman by giving her a son. When he dies prematurely, Elisha responds to the woman’s amazing faith and perseverance, and breathes new life into her son.
[Now if you were in church this morning you might see parallels between this story and the story of Jesus responding to the faith of the Canaanite woman whose daughter was sick. In both stories it is a woman’s strength and determination that leads to healing.]
Interestingly, hospitality plays an important part in both stories. In the first, the widow’s husband was part of the prophet’s circle and so the widow would have been a key part of the wider prophetic family, supporting and enabling the work of the prophets. In the second, the promise of a son is a direct response to the woman’s incredibly generous hospitality in lavishly furnishing a room for the passing prophet.
In both stories Elisha shows how hospitality, accompanied by faith and trust in God, can lead to the miraculous and unexpected.
But they also show that God’s sense of justice and mercy is broad enough to question the social, cultural, economic and religious practices of the day. Ultimately God is interested in individuals, not law or tradition.
The apostle Paul faithfully follows in this Old Testament tradition of protecting the vulnerable; but not before, of course, being completely transformed by his experience of meeting the risen Christ.
Having been brought up to give thanks to God each day that he was not born a slave, a woman or a Gentile, Paul delights in bringing slaves, women and Gentiles to faith in Christ. Importantly the conversion of Lydia, which was in our reading tonight, also involves the offering and receipt of hospitality.
All of us here have received and given hospitality within the context of the Christian community. We know it personally as the means by which we have found fellowship, companionship, a sense of purpose, even love. For that we are immensely grateful, to one another, to the church and to God.
What we are sometimes less willing to acknowledge perhaps, is that hospitality is the means by which God begins to usher in his kingdom, as the stories of Elisha demonstrate.
Hospitality should always be drawing us onward and outward in a spirit of optimistic mission, grounded in faith and trust in God.
Moving from a commitment to hospitality, to a commitment to justice is quite a leap. Yet that is the challenge we face as the church.
The economic injustices of our generation demand that the church speaks up in defence of those who are most vulnerable with the passion and clarity of Elisha and all the prophets. There is no other way by which to reveal the grace of God to those who suffer.
As the economics of our country worsen, let us pray that our faith may be nurtured and strengthened by the witness of the prophets, so that our vision of God, and his Kingdom, is reflected more clearly in the daily witness of our own lives.
Lord, help us to be your prophets in this generation. Amen.
Friday, 15 August 2008
At last, the grass gets cut
I've no idea what the weather statisticians will declare about this summer but my memory of summer 08 will be one of rain.
But not today. I've managed to get outside and cut the grass and both the garden and I look and feel better for it.
I am one of those people who needs to spend time outside now and again. Having spent much of the past two decades in front of a machine, physical activity holds an appeal to me. Not in a macho sense - I'm hardly a good example of biceps and the like. No, it's something to do with being connected with my humanness in relation to my environment. Cutting the grass, digging the garden, even cleaning the car can help put me in touch with who I am. Scribbing away at a keyboard doesn't quite achieve that.
Compared with my grandparents we now live in an indoors culture. Just think how often you go out in all types of weather without a coat. A mac's not needed if you've only got to walk to the car.
This growing detatchedness from the physical world has a price attached to it. As we become separated from the world we also become separated from one another. Let's not pretend that email, MSN, facebook or blogging improve communication between people. It might increase the number of networks we connect with. But communication is different. For that you need to see, touch, hear and smell.
I've never done this, but it would be interesting to analyse the gospels according to whether the events they describe took place indoors or outdoors. I have a suspicion, the gospels came to life in the open air. Perhaps we do too.
But not today. I've managed to get outside and cut the grass and both the garden and I look and feel better for it.
I am one of those people who needs to spend time outside now and again. Having spent much of the past two decades in front of a machine, physical activity holds an appeal to me. Not in a macho sense - I'm hardly a good example of biceps and the like. No, it's something to do with being connected with my humanness in relation to my environment. Cutting the grass, digging the garden, even cleaning the car can help put me in touch with who I am. Scribbing away at a keyboard doesn't quite achieve that.
Compared with my grandparents we now live in an indoors culture. Just think how often you go out in all types of weather without a coat. A mac's not needed if you've only got to walk to the car.
This growing detatchedness from the physical world has a price attached to it. As we become separated from the world we also become separated from one another. Let's not pretend that email, MSN, facebook or blogging improve communication between people. It might increase the number of networks we connect with. But communication is different. For that you need to see, touch, hear and smell.
I've never done this, but it would be interesting to analyse the gospels according to whether the events they describe took place indoors or outdoors. I have a suspicion, the gospels came to life in the open air. Perhaps we do too.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
A-level results day!
The anxiety is palpable around breakfast time as we await Kieran's results. We may be well used to waiting for exam results by now (this is the 4th year in a row we've been through this) but practice doesn't make this particular experience any easier.
I needn't have worried of course and Kieran got his 3 As. With an unconditional place at Aberystwyth (is that spelt correctly?) his results reflected the very real effort he put in for his own sense of achievement.
But not everyone is celebrating tonight. And the reason for that is simple - school doesn't work for everyone.
Why do we continue to assume that all youngsters can learn effectively sitting in rows in a classroom? Do we expect as adults all to work effectively in identical environments? Are we all bus drivers or politicians, software engineers or fashion designers?
Education is in a mess and it's not the fault of teachers - there are much more fundamental problems that reflect the appallingly condescending attitudes of decision-makers towards young people.
If we want an education system that works we need to recognise some truths:
1. Young people should be valued as educators in themselves, not as cogs in a machine or outcomes to be 'produced' - if we believe we are made in the image of God, then we should be paying attention to young people and listening hard; not assuming that with age comes wisdom.
2. Young people don't owe society anything; after all it is adults that have got the world into its current mess, not youngsters. So if young people are to be nurtured into an adulthood that more closely reflects the beauty of humanity, then adults need to re-discover the importance of humility, repentence even.
3. Finally, let's re-define what it means to succeed. It has nothing to do with results and even less to do with acquiring the latest consumer goods or earning lots of money. Rather it has everything to do with being able to contribute to society in meaningful ways that enhance the world in which we live.
Everyone knows this is true. After all, look at all the award schemes that recognise selfless acts of compassion or charitable commitment.
So if we know these things are ultimately very important, why don't we set the expectation in society that this is the normal way to behave, and not the exception?
I needn't have worried of course and Kieran got his 3 As. With an unconditional place at Aberystwyth (is that spelt correctly?) his results reflected the very real effort he put in for his own sense of achievement.
But not everyone is celebrating tonight. And the reason for that is simple - school doesn't work for everyone.
Why do we continue to assume that all youngsters can learn effectively sitting in rows in a classroom? Do we expect as adults all to work effectively in identical environments? Are we all bus drivers or politicians, software engineers or fashion designers?
Education is in a mess and it's not the fault of teachers - there are much more fundamental problems that reflect the appallingly condescending attitudes of decision-makers towards young people.
If we want an education system that works we need to recognise some truths:
1. Young people should be valued as educators in themselves, not as cogs in a machine or outcomes to be 'produced' - if we believe we are made in the image of God, then we should be paying attention to young people and listening hard; not assuming that with age comes wisdom.
2. Young people don't owe society anything; after all it is adults that have got the world into its current mess, not youngsters. So if young people are to be nurtured into an adulthood that more closely reflects the beauty of humanity, then adults need to re-discover the importance of humility, repentence even.
3. Finally, let's re-define what it means to succeed. It has nothing to do with results and even less to do with acquiring the latest consumer goods or earning lots of money. Rather it has everything to do with being able to contribute to society in meaningful ways that enhance the world in which we live.
Everyone knows this is true. After all, look at all the award schemes that recognise selfless acts of compassion or charitable commitment.
So if we know these things are ultimately very important, why don't we set the expectation in society that this is the normal way to behave, and not the exception?
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
Financial Makeover
All this gloomy financial news at the moment is making me more financially conscious than I've been for a while.
So I've taken the opportunity to review my list of standing orders and direct debits today. As a result I've cancelled several and discovered one howler - a payment that has been going out for the past 16 months when it shouldn't have. Came to almost £300. Steps have been taken and it will all be repaid, so no lasting damage.
It shows what happens though when you are sufficiently financially secure not to be worrying each month about what's in the bank. We've enjoyed that position for ten years or so and clearly it's an age that is coming to an end. I'm referring here to having to live off a clergy stipend from next year, rather than the general economic crises, although that too has brought the 'nice' decade to an end.
The other financial news though today was for Becky. The cost of a Uni education is much higher than I thought. We've already shelled out over £4k for her accommodation for the first year; her tuition fees are over £3k and then she has to eat and drink of course.
So I reckon it's going to cost £10k a year for each of them - £6k of which can be borrowed under the student loan scheme. Fortunately we've been saving for years for this in the hope that both Becky and Kieran would leave college (after first degrees anyway) without debts. I don't think we're going to have saved quite enough but should get within £2/3k of the total cost for each of them.
Which all goes to illustrate well what we all know. Only the rich can afford an education and debt is being structurally built into many young people's lives - even before they've had a chance to earn a living.
I don't believe that is the way to encourage young adults to acquire the skills they need so that they may enjoy life in all its abundance.
I don't believe it's indicative of a Christian approach to economics either. The common good must lie at the heart of that.
What it is doing is encouraging a fragmentation of society that will damage us all, not simply those with debts to repay. There are plenty of stories in the Old Testament about that.
The success of a society cannot be measured on a balance sheet.
So I've taken the opportunity to review my list of standing orders and direct debits today. As a result I've cancelled several and discovered one howler - a payment that has been going out for the past 16 months when it shouldn't have. Came to almost £300. Steps have been taken and it will all be repaid, so no lasting damage.
It shows what happens though when you are sufficiently financially secure not to be worrying each month about what's in the bank. We've enjoyed that position for ten years or so and clearly it's an age that is coming to an end. I'm referring here to having to live off a clergy stipend from next year, rather than the general economic crises, although that too has brought the 'nice' decade to an end.
The other financial news though today was for Becky. The cost of a Uni education is much higher than I thought. We've already shelled out over £4k for her accommodation for the first year; her tuition fees are over £3k and then she has to eat and drink of course.
So I reckon it's going to cost £10k a year for each of them - £6k of which can be borrowed under the student loan scheme. Fortunately we've been saving for years for this in the hope that both Becky and Kieran would leave college (after first degrees anyway) without debts. I don't think we're going to have saved quite enough but should get within £2/3k of the total cost for each of them.
Which all goes to illustrate well what we all know. Only the rich can afford an education and debt is being structurally built into many young people's lives - even before they've had a chance to earn a living.
I don't believe that is the way to encourage young adults to acquire the skills they need so that they may enjoy life in all its abundance.
I don't believe it's indicative of a Christian approach to economics either. The common good must lie at the heart of that.
What it is doing is encouraging a fragmentation of society that will damage us all, not simply those with debts to repay. There are plenty of stories in the Old Testament about that.
The success of a society cannot be measured on a balance sheet.
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
Greenbelt approaches
It's all the talk in this house today. Greenbelt is just one week away.
Well it is for Becky and I as we're volunteering beforehand and heading down to Cheltenham next Tuesday. Liz, Kieran and Rose will join us on the Friday.
Greenbelt has become our annual spiritual top-up; a must do calendar item. And this year we're going to know loads more people than ever before having moved church mid-year.
We're also going to take 'Blossom' for the first time. Our 1986 newly acquired VW Camper. Blossom has been a little unwell recently and had to have her push rods replaced (whatever they are). Look out for her - she's covered in flowers and stickers of one kind or another. Original Autosleeper livery plus more recently acquired rust in a few places.
So we're all looking forward to it and will be a healthy distraction from Kieran's 12 month trip to Uganda starting next month, Becky's Uni life starting next month and our serious search for a curacy which has kind of started already....
Well it is for Becky and I as we're volunteering beforehand and heading down to Cheltenham next Tuesday. Liz, Kieran and Rose will join us on the Friday.
Greenbelt has become our annual spiritual top-up; a must do calendar item. And this year we're going to know loads more people than ever before having moved church mid-year.
We're also going to take 'Blossom' for the first time. Our 1986 newly acquired VW Camper. Blossom has been a little unwell recently and had to have her push rods replaced (whatever they are). Look out for her - she's covered in flowers and stickers of one kind or another. Original Autosleeper livery plus more recently acquired rust in a few places.
So we're all looking forward to it and will be a healthy distraction from Kieran's 12 month trip to Uganda starting next month, Becky's Uni life starting next month and our serious search for a curacy which has kind of started already....
Monday, 11 August 2008
What really matters?
Compared with the life and death issues dominating the news - chiefly Georgia of course - much of my life seems pedantic and peripheral.
I've spent most of today doing 'useful' work for which I am well paid - but is it necessary, leave alone essential? Has the sum of humanity been enhanced? Has it done anything to stretch me, fulfill me or satisfy me?
The only honest answer is 'no'. Yet this is a day that will never repeat. And whatever I have or haven't achieved today, I soon cannot improve on it, as yet another day will turn to greet me.
And that day may turn out to be largely the same.
Why do I put with this? Why do I sit at my desk resolutely refusing to recognise that I'd be far better off as a human being if I spent the afternoon weeding the garden not 'working'?
This evening I'll do probably the only useful thing I will have achieved today - and that is to drive over to Luton to collect my son from the airport, returning after a week in Germany. Unlike me he's spent the week examining conflict resolution. No doubt he has something to say to Georgia and Russia right now.
How do I move beyond my rat race existence?
Part of the answer must lie in a rejection of the system that has entrapped me - wealth accumulating consumerism (also known as poverty inducing exploitation).
Part of the answer must also lie in listening to the young who seem to have an instinctive grasp on reality (like I had once no doubt).
But part of the answer must also lie in the recognition that I am a fallible human being. I can't change that, but perhaps I can instead begin to recognise more forecfully the importance of embracing the spiritual 'other' in everyday life.
Such as valuing the conversation in the street that delays me momentarily from my rush to the shops but saves me for eternity (?) from ceasing to be human.
It is time I started to stop and stare. To be still and know.
Dave Ford
I've spent most of today doing 'useful' work for which I am well paid - but is it necessary, leave alone essential? Has the sum of humanity been enhanced? Has it done anything to stretch me, fulfill me or satisfy me?
The only honest answer is 'no'. Yet this is a day that will never repeat. And whatever I have or haven't achieved today, I soon cannot improve on it, as yet another day will turn to greet me.
And that day may turn out to be largely the same.
Why do I put with this? Why do I sit at my desk resolutely refusing to recognise that I'd be far better off as a human being if I spent the afternoon weeding the garden not 'working'?
This evening I'll do probably the only useful thing I will have achieved today - and that is to drive over to Luton to collect my son from the airport, returning after a week in Germany. Unlike me he's spent the week examining conflict resolution. No doubt he has something to say to Georgia and Russia right now.
How do I move beyond my rat race existence?
Part of the answer must lie in a rejection of the system that has entrapped me - wealth accumulating consumerism (also known as poverty inducing exploitation).
Part of the answer must also lie in listening to the young who seem to have an instinctive grasp on reality (like I had once no doubt).
But part of the answer must also lie in the recognition that I am a fallible human being. I can't change that, but perhaps I can instead begin to recognise more forecfully the importance of embracing the spiritual 'other' in everyday life.
Such as valuing the conversation in the street that delays me momentarily from my rush to the shops but saves me for eternity (?) from ceasing to be human.
It is time I started to stop and stare. To be still and know.
Dave Ford
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Just how human was Jesus?
This might sound a dumb question - of course Jesus was human.
Yet one of the most distinguishing charactoristics of humanity is that it has the ability to learn.
Now I doubt Jesus was born able to speak. If he was then the gospels would be full of his early life, not his later ministry. So Jesus did learn some things.
But did Jesus - say, from the point of his baptism - know all things? Some Christians argue that he must have, for a big thread of theology believes that Jesus (the Son of God) existed from the beginning of creation. The problem with this argument is that Jesus must have known much about which he kept quiet. Such as the fact the world is round not flat. I'm sure Jesus had great self-control, but if you knew things the world didn't, wouldn't you be tempted to tell all?
Then there is the scriptural evidence. Such as the meeting between Jesus and the Caananite woman in which he refuses initially to heal her daughter on the grounds that his mission was only to the Jews. The woman appears to persuade Jesus to come to a different view of his own ministry. Not only is Jesus prepared to learn, but he's prepared to learn from a foreign woman!
If we accept the idea that Jesus was fully human, then it is possible to begin to see his ministry as one in which his own understanding of self gradually revealed itself.
To me that is a much more accessible and approachable Divinity. Moreover, it begins to make possible what Athanasius - I think - said back in the early centuries of the church. 'That Jesus became man, so that man might become God'. This idea of the divinization of humanity is not as wacky as it might sound to our rational infested minds. If the purpose of humanity is to be re-united with our creator, then Jesus shows the extent to which this is possible in life. Following Jesus becomes the means by which we become one with God 'in Christ', in this life and not only in the life to come.
Above all, it avoids putting Jesus on a pedastal, high out of reach, to be adored at a distance but rarely to be emulated.
So if you think of our relationship with Jesus in linear terms, then think horizontal not vertical. Jesus is not up in the clouds but right beside us on our level. Immediately accessible to know and to follow.
If I believe that Jesus had to learn his ministry, it makes it much easier for me as I struggle to learn mine. It means I have someone to learn from and someone to learn with.
I'm not alone.
Dave Ford
Yet one of the most distinguishing charactoristics of humanity is that it has the ability to learn.
Now I doubt Jesus was born able to speak. If he was then the gospels would be full of his early life, not his later ministry. So Jesus did learn some things.
But did Jesus - say, from the point of his baptism - know all things? Some Christians argue that he must have, for a big thread of theology believes that Jesus (the Son of God) existed from the beginning of creation. The problem with this argument is that Jesus must have known much about which he kept quiet. Such as the fact the world is round not flat. I'm sure Jesus had great self-control, but if you knew things the world didn't, wouldn't you be tempted to tell all?
Then there is the scriptural evidence. Such as the meeting between Jesus and the Caananite woman in which he refuses initially to heal her daughter on the grounds that his mission was only to the Jews. The woman appears to persuade Jesus to come to a different view of his own ministry. Not only is Jesus prepared to learn, but he's prepared to learn from a foreign woman!
If we accept the idea that Jesus was fully human, then it is possible to begin to see his ministry as one in which his own understanding of self gradually revealed itself.
To me that is a much more accessible and approachable Divinity. Moreover, it begins to make possible what Athanasius - I think - said back in the early centuries of the church. 'That Jesus became man, so that man might become God'. This idea of the divinization of humanity is not as wacky as it might sound to our rational infested minds. If the purpose of humanity is to be re-united with our creator, then Jesus shows the extent to which this is possible in life. Following Jesus becomes the means by which we become one with God 'in Christ', in this life and not only in the life to come.
Above all, it avoids putting Jesus on a pedastal, high out of reach, to be adored at a distance but rarely to be emulated.
So if you think of our relationship with Jesus in linear terms, then think horizontal not vertical. Jesus is not up in the clouds but right beside us on our level. Immediately accessible to know and to follow.
If I believe that Jesus had to learn his ministry, it makes it much easier for me as I struggle to learn mine. It means I have someone to learn from and someone to learn with.
I'm not alone.
Dave Ford
Saturday, 9 August 2008
Olympics or Ossetia - which is more important?
The answer might seem self-evident but not according to the BBC last night, whose 10pm news bulletin led with the opening of the Olympic Games, not the conflict between Russia and Georgia.
Since then the conflict has clearly become a war and a swift resolution seems unlikely.
According to the BBC, Russian President Dimitry Medvedev has said that he was seeking "to force the Georgian side to peace". Such talk is the talk of imperialists not peacemakers. It has echoes of Imperial Rome's desire for 'peace through victory' to which Jesus replied with his commitment for 'peace through justice'.
The best writing I've come across on these themes is God and Empire, by John Dominic Crossan. Crossan combines archaeological research with political and theological reflections to paint a picture of Jesus as directly confronting the imperial power of Rome with an alternative vision of what it means to seek and achieve peace in the name of God. I found the arguments extremely convincing and wholly appropriate to our own time which is, potentially at least, an age of three imperial empires - USA, Russia and China.
In the face of such powerful forces - political, economic and military - what can the humble Christian do? The first thing we must do - out of solidarity as well as a means to effect change - is to pray. Often underestimated by Christians in comfortable and 'peaceful' societies, prayer remains both the very least we can do, and sometimes the very best thing we can do. Prayer matters to those who face persecution, terror, war and fear. As in every war, it is the elderly, women and children who suffer first and most.
As to the Olympics I might watch some highlights; but my enthusiasm for sporting competition between nations has dissipated in the light of the painful reality of international politics. The Olympic movement is no longer indicative of what might be, but a smokescreen for what is.
Dave Ford
Since then the conflict has clearly become a war and a swift resolution seems unlikely.
According to the BBC, Russian President Dimitry Medvedev has said that he was seeking "to force the Georgian side to peace". Such talk is the talk of imperialists not peacemakers. It has echoes of Imperial Rome's desire for 'peace through victory' to which Jesus replied with his commitment for 'peace through justice'.
The best writing I've come across on these themes is God and Empire, by John Dominic Crossan. Crossan combines archaeological research with political and theological reflections to paint a picture of Jesus as directly confronting the imperial power of Rome with an alternative vision of what it means to seek and achieve peace in the name of God. I found the arguments extremely convincing and wholly appropriate to our own time which is, potentially at least, an age of three imperial empires - USA, Russia and China.
In the face of such powerful forces - political, economic and military - what can the humble Christian do? The first thing we must do - out of solidarity as well as a means to effect change - is to pray. Often underestimated by Christians in comfortable and 'peaceful' societies, prayer remains both the very least we can do, and sometimes the very best thing we can do. Prayer matters to those who face persecution, terror, war and fear. As in every war, it is the elderly, women and children who suffer first and most.
As to the Olympics I might watch some highlights; but my enthusiasm for sporting competition between nations has dissipated in the light of the painful reality of international politics. The Olympic movement is no longer indicative of what might be, but a smokescreen for what is.
Dave Ford
Friday, 8 August 2008
Economic Growth is not a virtue - economic justice is
The news today that UK home repossessions have risen by 48% (compared with the same 6 month period last year) is yet more dismal news about the economy. Yet these raw statistics hide many stories of personal tragedy and misery, disproportionally shared of course by those who are least economically secure or mobile. As always, the poor are hit first by economic woes. For most of us at the moment, the economic downturn might mean shopping in Aldi rather than Tesco - but that hardly counts as a tragedy. (And if you've never shopped in Aldi you should give it a try - their salmon is particularly good).
Every downturn or recession is accompanied by much analysis of what has gone wrong with the economy. But the fundamental questions are rarely asked. Talk of global changes in the availability of credit don't get to the heart of the problem but simply deal with the 'unpleasant ocassional side effects' of the economic system to which we all appear enslaved.
The thought of an economic system having a moral or even a spiritual dimension would probably have most city traders looking either bemused or quietly chuckling behind their Pimms. But in the same way that it is now widely recognised that the global political and physical environment has an interdependent dimension to it (look at the instant worries created across the world by what has happened in Georgia today), so, I suggest, does the economic system. And wherever there are relationships, corporate or personal, there are moral and spiritual questions to be faced.
The core spiritual question posed by the economy for me is this: if we accept that how we spend our money directly or indirectly affects other people, then surely the act of consumption is either an act that aids mutual sustainability or it is an act of economic exploitation? If it is the former, then consumption can be considered something that enhances our spiritual well-being; if it is the latter, then it is degrading, not simply to those who it affects, but to those who effect it - me or you.
It remains my belief, that mutually sustainable economic relationships (and economies) are incompatible with an economic policy that presumes that continuous economic growth is the only route to economic stability. For exploitation - of people, resources, the environment - is in-built to the logic of economic growth. If that doesn't sound right, consider how our economy in the UK might change if the real cost of manufacture and distribution was charged to the consumer. Small would not simply be beautiful, it would become essential. Profit only exists in the UK economy because none of us are paying the real cost of anything.
These are deeply spiritual issues for anyone who believes - as I do - that the world was created for our enjoyment and care, not for its exploitation. And that world includes us. If we are to have life, and to have it abundantly, as Jesus promises, then that 'we' must include everyone. If we want to be truly globally inclusive, then our economic exploitation of others must cease. Yes, that means a drop in 'living standards', but that might not be a bad thing, given the level of conflict and violence such living standards generate in our communities today.
Dave Ford
Every downturn or recession is accompanied by much analysis of what has gone wrong with the economy. But the fundamental questions are rarely asked. Talk of global changes in the availability of credit don't get to the heart of the problem but simply deal with the 'unpleasant ocassional side effects' of the economic system to which we all appear enslaved.
The thought of an economic system having a moral or even a spiritual dimension would probably have most city traders looking either bemused or quietly chuckling behind their Pimms. But in the same way that it is now widely recognised that the global political and physical environment has an interdependent dimension to it (look at the instant worries created across the world by what has happened in Georgia today), so, I suggest, does the economic system. And wherever there are relationships, corporate or personal, there are moral and spiritual questions to be faced.
The core spiritual question posed by the economy for me is this: if we accept that how we spend our money directly or indirectly affects other people, then surely the act of consumption is either an act that aids mutual sustainability or it is an act of economic exploitation? If it is the former, then consumption can be considered something that enhances our spiritual well-being; if it is the latter, then it is degrading, not simply to those who it affects, but to those who effect it - me or you.
It remains my belief, that mutually sustainable economic relationships (and economies) are incompatible with an economic policy that presumes that continuous economic growth is the only route to economic stability. For exploitation - of people, resources, the environment - is in-built to the logic of economic growth. If that doesn't sound right, consider how our economy in the UK might change if the real cost of manufacture and distribution was charged to the consumer. Small would not simply be beautiful, it would become essential. Profit only exists in the UK economy because none of us are paying the real cost of anything.
These are deeply spiritual issues for anyone who believes - as I do - that the world was created for our enjoyment and care, not for its exploitation. And that world includes us. If we are to have life, and to have it abundantly, as Jesus promises, then that 'we' must include everyone. If we want to be truly globally inclusive, then our economic exploitation of others must cease. Yes, that means a drop in 'living standards', but that might not be a bad thing, given the level of conflict and violence such living standards generate in our communities today.
Dave Ford
Thursday, 7 August 2008
Giving in to trust
Lying on my back in a dentist's chair is not my preferred way to spend a Thursday morning. My mouth is full of metal fillings from the 1970s; not a good decade for British dentistry. As a result of that my mind remains full of memories of painful and noisy drills. Despite the wonderful treatment I receive from Tom, who must have the gentlest hands in the business, and Sharon, who takes care of my regular accumulation of plaque, this is not me at my most relaxed.
As someone who is used to being in control - particularly of my time but also more generally of my surroundings - this forced subjection to someone's else agenda - however professional and well meaning - makes me feel deeply uncomfortable and powerless. This is not life as I normally experience it.
Instead I have to trust Tom and Sharon, not simply to do a good job, but to ensure my safety and well-being. I can't be the only patient who's wondered what happens if the hands holding drill slip or a bout of sneezing suddenly engulfs the technician.
In the case of dentistry this issue of trust is made a great deal easier because I am not a dentist. If I had an inkling of skill in the area of teeth and gum manitenance I might, perhaps, feel like offering advice, or even have a go at doing the job myself. As it is I am relatively content to leave it to them.
This is not the case however in other areas of my life. There is little more debilitating than not being able to do something about a situation that deeply affects or concerns you, despite being skilled and competent to contribute. The experience of passively waiting upon others to make a decision is very difficult to accept.
Scripture's answer to this is found in Proverbs 3: "Trust the Lord with all your heart and be not wise in your own sight."
I find this kind of trust particularly difficult. After all, God gave us our minds and abilities to put them to good use, not to leave on a shelf. Yet I also recognise that there is a bigger picture that I cannot see or understand. My wisdom, such as it is, is very limited and partial.
So my options are limited. I can choose to be endlessly frustrated and fed up, or try to trust the God I believe exists at the very heart of everything, including me.
As someone who is used to being in control - particularly of my time but also more generally of my surroundings - this forced subjection to someone's else agenda - however professional and well meaning - makes me feel deeply uncomfortable and powerless. This is not life as I normally experience it.
Instead I have to trust Tom and Sharon, not simply to do a good job, but to ensure my safety and well-being. I can't be the only patient who's wondered what happens if the hands holding drill slip or a bout of sneezing suddenly engulfs the technician.
In the case of dentistry this issue of trust is made a great deal easier because I am not a dentist. If I had an inkling of skill in the area of teeth and gum manitenance I might, perhaps, feel like offering advice, or even have a go at doing the job myself. As it is I am relatively content to leave it to them.
This is not the case however in other areas of my life. There is little more debilitating than not being able to do something about a situation that deeply affects or concerns you, despite being skilled and competent to contribute. The experience of passively waiting upon others to make a decision is very difficult to accept.
Scripture's answer to this is found in Proverbs 3: "Trust the Lord with all your heart and be not wise in your own sight."
I find this kind of trust particularly difficult. After all, God gave us our minds and abilities to put them to good use, not to leave on a shelf. Yet I also recognise that there is a bigger picture that I cannot see or understand. My wisdom, such as it is, is very limited and partial.
So my options are limited. I can choose to be endlessly frustrated and fed up, or try to trust the God I believe exists at the very heart of everything, including me.
Experience tells me that the answer will lie in the 'doing'. As I reach out to God, and succumb in trust, God will rush to envelop me in love. Totally dependent on God I may be; alone I am not.
A very long time ago Julian of Norwich wrote this: "He did not say, 'You shall not be tempest-tossed, you shall not be work-weary, you shall not be discomforted'. But he said, 'You shall not be overcome'. God wants us to heed these words so that we shall always be strong in trust, both in sorrow and in joy." (Enfolded in Love, DLT, 1980, p39).
W H Vanstone wrote wonderfully about this tension between trust and waiting in his marvellous book "The Stature of Waiting". Well worth a read if you currently face a time of being 'forced to be passive'.
Dave Ford
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Summerstorm
No, this isn't a comment on yesterday's awful weather, but a reflection on a DVD I watched last night with my 19yr old daughter, Becky. Summerstorm is a wonderful tale of friendship and emerging sexuality. It centres around two friends - Tobi and Achim - both of whom are keen members of their local rowing club. Their friendship breaks down during a summer camp as Tobi slowly accepts that he is gay and that his affection is not going to be returned by Achim. For me one of the most touching moments in the film is when Tobi's girlfriend accepts that Tobi is gay and that her love for him cannot be returned. She graciously lets him go.
Two evenings earlier Liz and I watched another film - For the Bible tells me so. This tells the story of five US families and how they reacted as their sons or daughters came out. This film was given away free at the Lambeth Conference and I regret only picking up a single copy. The stories are heart wrenching and I sat in tears towards the end as I watched parents in their retirement campaigning for gay rights and being arrested in defence of their son.
One of the five families in the film is Gene Robinson's, the Bishop of New Hampshire. Gene was married and has two daughters and the film tells this aspect of his story very honestly. When Gene finally accepted his sexuality, instead of perceiving their marriage as a failure, they came to see in their divorce an honouring of one another, as each was freed to find a new partner who could affirm them as the person they really are. For Gene and his wife, Boo, their divorce was the positive culmination of their marriage vows.
Both films illustrate the graciousness and cost of true love. Letting go can sometimes be the very best way we can love one another.
That is what the incarnation is all about of course. And every time we help someone else become who they were born to be, we repeat that story of incarnational love in our own lives. As Jesus showed, the cost can be high.
Two evenings earlier Liz and I watched another film - For the Bible tells me so. This tells the story of five US families and how they reacted as their sons or daughters came out. This film was given away free at the Lambeth Conference and I regret only picking up a single copy. The stories are heart wrenching and I sat in tears towards the end as I watched parents in their retirement campaigning for gay rights and being arrested in defence of their son.
One of the five families in the film is Gene Robinson's, the Bishop of New Hampshire. Gene was married and has two daughters and the film tells this aspect of his story very honestly. When Gene finally accepted his sexuality, instead of perceiving their marriage as a failure, they came to see in their divorce an honouring of one another, as each was freed to find a new partner who could affirm them as the person they really are. For Gene and his wife, Boo, their divorce was the positive culmination of their marriage vows.
Both films illustrate the graciousness and cost of true love. Letting go can sometimes be the very best way we can love one another.
That is what the incarnation is all about of course. And every time we help someone else become who they were born to be, we repeat that story of incarnational love in our own lives. As Jesus showed, the cost can be high.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Seven Passages - dramatic reply to the 'terror texts'
One of the joys of Lambeth last week was the performance of 'Seven Passages' by a group of young people from Michigan. This new play weaved the true life experiences of a variety of gay Christians (not the actors own stories) with exegisis of the seven frequently cited 'anti-gay' terror texts from scripture.
As the play progressed the audience gained vivid insights into the painful struggles experienced by gay Christians accompanied by clear and accurate explanations as to the meaning of the seven scripture passages most often used to exclude gay Christians from church communities. Deeply moving but also at times very funny, the play deserves to be widely appreciated, which will be much helped by the forthcoming DVD.
Half way through the play around half a dozen people walked out, something that the cast had never experienced before. Talking with them afterwards, it was clear that seeing people walk away was difficult. Yet I wonder if it wasn't also a good sign.
One of the challenges with plays like 'Seven Passages' is that the audience is often composed of people very much on board with the issues. To have people walk out half way through is a vivid reminder that there remains a long way to go before LGBT people will be fully accepted in the Christian community.
Leaving aside the possibility that the folks who left had a bus to catch, is there anything positive to be gleaned from people appearing to disagree so strongly with a play's message that they feel the need to be elsewhere?
I feel there might be and it has something to do with the nature of conflict.
When disagreements come out in the open, truth is revealed. The English habit of seeking to always be polite isn't sufficient to transform the world and usher in the Kingdom of God. At times we need to face up to our differences in order to find a way forward together.
Conflict is, by its very nature revelatory, it reveals truth. Wherever there is conflict there is a point of potential transformation.
The motives for those folks walking out on the play may never be known. But if an internal conflict was stirred up by the experience, then a movement of the Spirit might at work. We will never know how that might work itself out. But that is both the joy and the challenge of contributing to others' spiritual journeys. It's all about planting seeds so others have something to water.
Dave Ford
As the play progressed the audience gained vivid insights into the painful struggles experienced by gay Christians accompanied by clear and accurate explanations as to the meaning of the seven scripture passages most often used to exclude gay Christians from church communities. Deeply moving but also at times very funny, the play deserves to be widely appreciated, which will be much helped by the forthcoming DVD.
Half way through the play around half a dozen people walked out, something that the cast had never experienced before. Talking with them afterwards, it was clear that seeing people walk away was difficult. Yet I wonder if it wasn't also a good sign.
One of the challenges with plays like 'Seven Passages' is that the audience is often composed of people very much on board with the issues. To have people walk out half way through is a vivid reminder that there remains a long way to go before LGBT people will be fully accepted in the Christian community.
Leaving aside the possibility that the folks who left had a bus to catch, is there anything positive to be gleaned from people appearing to disagree so strongly with a play's message that they feel the need to be elsewhere?
I feel there might be and it has something to do with the nature of conflict.
When disagreements come out in the open, truth is revealed. The English habit of seeking to always be polite isn't sufficient to transform the world and usher in the Kingdom of God. At times we need to face up to our differences in order to find a way forward together.
Conflict is, by its very nature revelatory, it reveals truth. Wherever there is conflict there is a point of potential transformation.
The motives for those folks walking out on the play may never be known. But if an internal conflict was stirred up by the experience, then a movement of the Spirit might at work. We will never know how that might work itself out. But that is both the joy and the challenge of contributing to others' spiritual journeys. It's all about planting seeds so others have something to water.
Dave Ford
Monday, 4 August 2008
Welcome to Perfect Freedom
Welcome to Perfect Freedom a new blog for exploring spiritual, theological and political issues from a liberal/radical Anglican perspective.
I can't promise never to talk about the Lambeth Conference or the current state of the Anglican Communion, but the thinking behind this blog is broader than today's headlines. 'News' rarely has the opportunity to acknowledge the genuine complexity of the simplest of issues. And there are plenty of excellent liberal commentators out there already making up for journalism's shortcomings.
So this blog is trying to be different rather than simply adding another voice to the liberal cause.
The name 'Perfect Freedom' is derived, of course, from the Collect for Peace in Morning Prayer (Book of Common Prayer):
O God, who art the author of peace and lover of concord,
in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life,
whose service is perfect freedom;
defend us thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies;
that we, surely trusting in thy defence,
may not fear the power of any adversaries;
through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Now I much prefer the Common Worship version to BCP but I do recognise this prayer's origins and more imoprtantly the beautiful truth that lies in the paradox that freedom is achieved through service. Only by giving of ourselves do we become ourselves. Jesus became Christ on the cross.
Perfect Freedom is also the title of what I still consider as the best statement of the liberal Christian tradition. Written by Brian Mountford it is short, concise, persuasive and totally engaging. Worth buying for your church library if it's not already there and while you're about it, buy another for your vicar.
Finally, Perfect Freedom is also the title of next year's conference of the Modern Churchpeople's Union. Now please don't be put off by the title. The MCU name may be an historical anachronism but it's a great group of thinking Anglicans (which reminds me of another web site).
To be a thinking Anglican is, of course, to ask questions; but not initially of others, always first of ourselves.
That is perhaps where a lot of the problems start. Not the practice of asking questions, but the reality that we lack the self-confidence to ask the deepest questions of ourselves first, and instead launch ourselves at others in an attempt to find security in our own prejduices and others' fears.
Lambeth was right to encourage people of difference to meet and talk together. Shame though that the circle wasn't as large as it could have been. Which raises some interesting questions about the nature of conflict.
Dave Ford
I can't promise never to talk about the Lambeth Conference or the current state of the Anglican Communion, but the thinking behind this blog is broader than today's headlines. 'News' rarely has the opportunity to acknowledge the genuine complexity of the simplest of issues. And there are plenty of excellent liberal commentators out there already making up for journalism's shortcomings.
So this blog is trying to be different rather than simply adding another voice to the liberal cause.
The name 'Perfect Freedom' is derived, of course, from the Collect for Peace in Morning Prayer (Book of Common Prayer):
O God, who art the author of peace and lover of concord,
in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life,
whose service is perfect freedom;
defend us thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies;
that we, surely trusting in thy defence,
may not fear the power of any adversaries;
through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Now I much prefer the Common Worship version to BCP but I do recognise this prayer's origins and more imoprtantly the beautiful truth that lies in the paradox that freedom is achieved through service. Only by giving of ourselves do we become ourselves. Jesus became Christ on the cross.
Perfect Freedom is also the title of what I still consider as the best statement of the liberal Christian tradition. Written by Brian Mountford it is short, concise, persuasive and totally engaging. Worth buying for your church library if it's not already there and while you're about it, buy another for your vicar.
Finally, Perfect Freedom is also the title of next year's conference of the Modern Churchpeople's Union. Now please don't be put off by the title. The MCU name may be an historical anachronism but it's a great group of thinking Anglicans (which reminds me of another web site).
To be a thinking Anglican is, of course, to ask questions; but not initially of others, always first of ourselves.
That is perhaps where a lot of the problems start. Not the practice of asking questions, but the reality that we lack the self-confidence to ask the deepest questions of ourselves first, and instead launch ourselves at others in an attempt to find security in our own prejduices and others' fears.
Lambeth was right to encourage people of difference to meet and talk together. Shame though that the circle wasn't as large as it could have been. Which raises some interesting questions about the nature of conflict.
Dave Ford
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