“The true measure of a nation’s standing is how well it attends to its children – their health and safety, their material security, their education and socialization, and their sense of being loved, valued, and included in the families and societies into which they are born.”
UNICEF: Child poverty in perspective: An overview of child well-being in rich countries: A comprehensive assessment of the lives and well-being of children and adolescents in the economically advanced nations.
This week, UNICEF has published a report on child well-being in rich countries. The report considered 6 dimensions of child well-being: material well-being, health and safety, educational well-being, family and peer relationships, behaviours and risks, and subjective well-being. The report compares these 6 dimensions across 21 nations.
The UK ranked last in the family and peer relationships, behaviours and risks, and subjective well-being dimensions; and last overall. The US ranked second last overall. As a society, we are failing our children – and therefore, though we are economically rich, we are poor.
It is interesting to note the impact of the breakdown of family relationships on child well-being. Aware of the sensitive nature of such an observation, the UNICEF Report states:
“The use of data on the proportion of children living in single-parent families and stepfamilies as an indicator of well-being may seem unfair and insensitive. Plenty of children in two-parent families are damaged by their parents’ relationships; plenty of children in single-parent and stepfamilies are growing up secure and happy. Nor can the terms ‘single-parent families’ and ‘stepfamilies’ do justice to the many different kinds of family unit that have become common in recent decades. But at the statistical level there is evidence to associate growing up in single-parent families and stepfamilies with greater risk to well-being – including a greater risk of dropping out of school, of leaving home early, of poorer health, of low skills, and of low pay.” [p. 23]
Equally aware of political sensitivity, and equally unwilling to bow to Political Correctness, Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams made the following comments in a speech in support of marriage just a week earlier:
“…Because when we’re talking about the marriage relationship, we’re talking about a relationship, which constantly unfolds over time, which allows you to build on difficult experience, to work through it, to move, to mature. It allows you to have a story to tell about yourself, a story that is not just about how I wanted this, and I got that, but a story about how I discovered and moved through time to something more like the humanity that I’m capable of…
“…Marriage is for life; and that doesn’t just mean life-long, important as that is. It means for life; that is for an enhanced kind of human experience…Marriage is a relationship in which my commitment to somebody else, my risky, high risk, commitment to someone else, is matched and met by their risky commitment to me, and as already quoted from the significant source for our understanding on this, let me cap that with something St Paul says about how husband and wife belong not to themselves, but to each other. They really are giving some sort of ownership in themselves to another person, and that is so phenomenally risky that it’s only the mutuality of it, the shared promise of one to the other, that makes it doable. If someone comes along and says ‘give me your life’ you don’t normally just say ‘okay’. You enter into a covenant, a relationship of mutual risk and mutual promise - and that’s how you get a life. You know that someone else has a life invested in yours, as yours is invested in theirs. That seems to me really the bottom line of why marriage matters, not just for this society, but for any human society. That risk of investing yourself on another person, letting them invest themselves in you so completely, that’s about how we grow, about how we become human, and unless that relationship models for the whole of society what’s possible for human beings, we have a desperately impoverished society - and you’ve heard already this morning something of the nature of that impoverishment. Think this through for a moment: the committed relationship of husband and wife in marriage says to people around, and most importantly of all, says to the children of that marriage, it’s quite possible to live as a human being, not afraid at any moment that you’re going to be let down, abandoned, left to yourself. Someone is actually committed to be there for you. That’s what marriage is about, and modelling that kind of unconditional being there, that sets the foundation of stability, trustworthiness, which allows children to grow up confident that whatever goes wrong, for them, in them, through them, there’s something beyond that to hold them, to give them room, time, space, fresh air, to grow. The tragedy of the kind of social situation that we’ve already heard so much about this morning, is fundamentally a level of anxiety and abandonment among so many people who don’t and can’t believe that there’s anybody truly there for them; who don’t believe there’s anything trustworthy, apart from those transient and fraught, intense and violent relationships which was described by Iain [Duncan Smith] in his speech about the ‘gang culture’. If that’s the only kind of stable background people know, well we can expect the disasters that we see. One of the things that Camilla Batmanghelidj, my great heroine, has taught me - seeing her at work, talking to her - is precisely the absolute significance of that background of trustworthiness. Here is someone who is for you; and marriage which says between two people, I am for you and I am for you, says to children, says to those around, that’s the ground on which you grow, that’s the security, that’s what guarantees you, the air, the space, the time to move on.
“So what we’re up against at the moment is a society that has painfully and disastrously low expectations of relationships. I really liked the ‘ambition about relationships’ phrase, which came up earlier. We need to be ambitious about our relationships, ambitious for life, in both senses, ambitious for life-long relationships, ambitious for the kind of depth of human experience, the life that marriage can give. And as expectations spiral downwards then it’s not only the one relationship with marriage that suffers, it’s everything in sight that suffers. We can’t legislate this into being, but we can go on challenging the imagination of society and saying ‘aren’t you being desperately unambitious about what you are capable of? And what those close to you are capable of? Aren’t you lowering, lowering and lowering the sights because actually you are capable of much more than you think you are? When you think that millions of people every year embark on this extraordinary enterprise called marriage, without any exceptional sanctity or heroism, they just do it and they just carry on doing it, doesn’t that say something about the ambition that we can rightly have? And at the risk of sounding slightly sentimental, I think it’s quite important to look back to an earlier generation, remember parents and grandparents and great-grandparents and think there were a lot of very ordinary human beings, not especially saintly, not especially holy, who did this, who ‘got a life’, who worked through all of this with that prosaic heroism that brings out the best in people, that trained a new generation, that shaped the world which had some trustworthy limits, which had some recognisable moral geography to it. Were they wasting their time? Were they living out an illusion? Well if they were we are in a very strange position now, because we are trading on the achievements that they created for us. And that’s of course one of the sad things about some of the debates we have about marriage these days; that a great deal of the running is made in commentating in reflective terms by people who don’t perhaps fully see how much they are trading off the inherited capital of a stability and yes, a prosaic heroism that’s evolved over generations. And the fluidity and changeability of relationships and the transience of marriage may look perfectly fine if you belong to the commentating classes of north London, but you don’t have to go very many miles to see what the cost is for people who can’t take that sort of thing for granted…”
UNICEF , Rowan Williams , marriage , faith and society
SLOW : andrew dowsett : collected musings
Friday, February 16, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
A Rose By Any Other Name
Moreover, if you buy the Kenyan roses, you’ll be investing in the employment of 70,000 Kenyan women. Okay, it won’t be a very big investment on its own, but, a nation’s worth of rose-buyers has more impact…
…On the other hand, there is insufficient regulation of the working conditions of those 70,000 women. And the rose farms divert precious water away from farms that grow crops that Kenyans can eat…
Isaac Newton said that to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. He was wrong. To every action – buying roses, for example – there are multiple reactions – or consequences – of varying impact, some of them totally disproportional to the action taken.
Doing the right thing is not necessarily straight-forward. But what we don’t have the luxury of doing is carrying on without thinking about the consequences of even our simplest actions – such as the food we eat. At the very least we need to make informed choices. And beyond that, we may even want to find ways of shaping the big picture.
However you choose to mark, or not, Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I hope that you will know expressed shared love with at least one other person. It costs nothing – and you’ll both be the richer for it.
UPDATE: Kester Brewin has some great thoughts on how to escape the labyrinth of inaction through living symbolically here.
environmental issues , Valentines Day , ethical consuming
…On the other hand, there is insufficient regulation of the working conditions of those 70,000 women. And the rose farms divert precious water away from farms that grow crops that Kenyans can eat…
Isaac Newton said that to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. He was wrong. To every action – buying roses, for example – there are multiple reactions – or consequences – of varying impact, some of them totally disproportional to the action taken.
Doing the right thing is not necessarily straight-forward. But what we don’t have the luxury of doing is carrying on without thinking about the consequences of even our simplest actions – such as the food we eat. At the very least we need to make informed choices. And beyond that, we may even want to find ways of shaping the big picture.
However you choose to mark, or not, Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I hope that you will know expressed shared love with at least one other person. It costs nothing – and you’ll both be the richer for it.
UPDATE: Kester Brewin has some great thoughts on how to escape the labyrinth of inaction through living symbolically here.
environmental issues , Valentines Day , ethical consuming
Monday, February 12, 2007
Be My (Carbon-Neutral) Valentine
This Wednesday is Valentine’s Day, the day when we are supposed to go out and pay three-times what we would pay any other day of the year for a bouquet of roses for the one we love. But that is just the tip of the (melting) ice-berg in terms of environmental cost…
A report out this week by Cranfield University compared the carbon emissions involved in the production of batches of roses sold in the UK and grown in Kenya and Holland. [reported p. 36, The Times, Saturday February 10 2007]
Guess which roses have the higher carbon cost? Well, it’s a no-brainer: it has to be the Kenyan roses. And if I tell you that transportation accounts for 91% of the carbon emissions of the Kenyan roses – that’s the aeroplane industry for you – compared to less than 1% for the Dutch roses, those stats only go to confirm it, right? Wrong.
Growing and importing Kenyan roses produces 6,004 kg of Co2 per batch; or 17% of the 34,188 kg of Co2 produced by the Dutch roses. Growing roses on an industrial scale in the Netherlands takes a lot of light and heat (and even then results in half the yield of roses grown in Kenya’s natural climate)…
So if you are planning on buying roses on Valentine’s Day, you might want to ask the florist where they came from. And if they are (relatively) local, you might want to choose some grown further a-field instead…
environmental issues , Valentines Day , carbon emissions
Monday, February 05, 2007
U2Charist
My friend Mike Rutter introduced me to this one on Saturday: the U2Charist, or Eucharist set to the music of U2. It is, apparently, all the rage among American Episcopalians; it is all over YouTube (though some videos have been removed for copyright reasons, and I suspect others will follow); and it is coming to the UK soon…
I love U2, especially the Achtung Baby and Zooropa albums. I find much of their music emotionally engaging and their lyrics thought-provoking, at what I would describe as a spiritual level. I believe that Bono speaks with a prophetic voice on issues of justice for the oppressed and alienated; speaks to the powerful on behalf of those who are powerless and have no voice of their own. I have no problem with the idea of a worship service at which we ask God to speak to us through the music (or other cultural artefacts) of our culture (such as God’s iPod); and I’m not precious about setting the Eucharist to music that was not originally written for that purpose, either.
But, I’ve always been uncomfortable with what I perceive as attempts by Christians to forcibly co-opt U2 as representatives for their particular doctrinal position; or as evidence that Christians aren’t necessarily social freaks (sorry – I saw the clothes and dancing on YouTube, and some of you really are!); or to ensnare the prophetic bird within the cage of an institutional form of Christian religion. Bono sang:
And I’d join the movement
If there was one I could believe in
Yeah I’d break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in
’Cos I need it now
(Acrobat, Achtung Baby)
I’m just not sure whether, in the U2Charist, he has found what he is looking for…
What do you think?
U2Charist
I love U2, especially the Achtung Baby and Zooropa albums. I find much of their music emotionally engaging and their lyrics thought-provoking, at what I would describe as a spiritual level. I believe that Bono speaks with a prophetic voice on issues of justice for the oppressed and alienated; speaks to the powerful on behalf of those who are powerless and have no voice of their own. I have no problem with the idea of a worship service at which we ask God to speak to us through the music (or other cultural artefacts) of our culture (such as God’s iPod); and I’m not precious about setting the Eucharist to music that was not originally written for that purpose, either.
But, I’ve always been uncomfortable with what I perceive as attempts by Christians to forcibly co-opt U2 as representatives for their particular doctrinal position; or as evidence that Christians aren’t necessarily social freaks (sorry – I saw the clothes and dancing on YouTube, and some of you really are!); or to ensnare the prophetic bird within the cage of an institutional form of Christian religion. Bono sang:
And I’d join the movement
If there was one I could believe in
Yeah I’d break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in
’Cos I need it now
(Acrobat, Achtung Baby)
I’m just not sure whether, in the U2Charist, he has found what he is looking for…
What do you think?
U2Charist
Snap
I noticed this little tool on Andrew Jones’ blog recently, and now my good friend Ben Askew has put a technophobe’s guide (that’s just the sort of help I need – cheers, Ben!) on his blog. Snap Preview Anywhere pops up a little preview pane when you hover over a link, so you can decide whether you want to follow it now or stay here. Likewise for all the permanent links on the sidebar. Oh, and it looks so pretty! Especially when my browser is being temperamental about uploading photographs, to break up my text…
Snap Preview Anywhere
Snap Preview Anywhere
Further Thoughts On Sexuality And Church
Recently I’ve written a couple of posts on sexuality, and have had positive feedback from several people who have said that it has helped them to wrestle with the issue. I recognise that sexuality is a pastorally sensitive issue; that the relationship between Christian faith and homosexuality is particularly (and, in my opinion, unhelpfully) charged at the moment; and I recognise the wisdom of those who feel it is best to hold back from expressing their views on an issue that has, perhaps, been blown out of proportion in importance. But perhaps it is the very fact that sexuality has been blown out of proportion that means that we have to address it. And perhaps the current over-emphasis on homosexuality within church dialogue (both internal, and with society) needs addressing, too. Personally, I believe that addressing has to be done through a combination of personal reflection and communal discussion; arriving at plans as to how we shall live, that may be provisional but in which we are nonetheless holding each other accountable to act in a manner that is consistent with those plans. Therefore I have decided to add this further post, in which I will try to set out where I find myself at this point. Though I generally prefer a narrative approach to theological reflection, on this occasion I shall make a series of statements. What follows is long, and wide-ranging; but is not intended to be exhaustive, nor especially systematic.
a) I believe that every aspect of our being has been broken, in some way or other, as a result of humanity’s decision to act in opposition to God’s expressed will for our lives; as symbolically expressed through the decision of our first representatives, recorded in the first chapters of the Bible.
b) I believe that for each one of us, our sexuality is broken; and that that brokenness is expressed in a variety of ways. I believe that the Bible records some examples of the ways in which sexual brokenness is expressed (though not every possible example), in the forms of prohibitive statements and of narratives that show the consequences of acting out of our brokenness. The examples of sexual brokenness recorded in the Bible are not necessarily considered to be examples of sexual brokenness in every culture; and may be seen as neutral or even desirable in certain cultures. For example, I live in a culture that has a ‘neutral or desirable’ view of adultery, and of same-sex sexual relationships.
c) I believe that our brokenness falls short of the wholeness God intended and hopes for our lives, as those made in God’s image to share in God’s wholeness; and that therefore we can rightly describe our inherent brokenness as ‘sinful nature’ (‘sin’ literally meaning ‘falling short,’ as in an arrow that fails to reach the target), and the actions that result from our brokenness as ‘sins’ (attempts that fall short).
d) I believe that denying our brokenness – whether by calling it ‘not broken,’ or by hiding from others those things in ourselves that we consider broken in others – only serves to further break us.
e) I believe that God longs to bind up the broken-hearted: which I understand to mean, God can hold our broken nature together so closely, so intimately, that we are able to live as though we were whole. I believe that as we (increasingly) admit to our brokenness, and allow God to hold us, we experience (increasing) wholeness.
f) I believe that it is wrong to require that those who do not claim to live in relationship with Christ should live according to the same values as those who do. I believe that the ‘moral norms’ of Christendom, imposed upon culture, served to strengthen the tendency in all of us to hide our brokenness; and also to obscure our need for wholeness, our need to be made whole. I believe that this was unintentional, and deeply ironic; but I am glad that we find ourselves in a post-Christendom context.
g) I believe that, in response to humanity’s commitment to calling brokenness ‘wholeness,’ God has chosen to give humanity over to the consequences of this commitment: brokenness upon brokenness. I believe that God has done so in the hope that we will wake up to the condition in which we find ourselves, and turn (back) to him. But, I also believe that if this is what God has chosen, then when Christians seek to oppose the choices of society – such as legislation that confers the name ‘wholeness’ on brokenness – we may in fact be guilty of opposing God’s decision (as unintentionally and ironically as Christendom – which perhaps such Christians are hoping for a return to). In the specific context of early C21st Britain, I believe that Christians who lobby Government in opposition to civil partnerships and other anti-discrimination legislation (which differs from requesting that Christians have the freedom under law to live differently) fall into this trap.
h) I believe that a lifestyle of habitually behaving out of our brokenness and habitually calling brokenness ‘wholeness’ – as opposed to a lifestyle of habitually wrestling with our brokenness and habitually asking God for grace to overcome, and grace to be restored when we succumb – is incompatible with a life of orthodox Christian discipleship. Regarding sexuality, I believe that same-sex sexual relationships are one of various expressions of sexuality that are incompatible with orthodox Christian discipleship.
i) I believe that we act out of brokenness (that is, we sin) when we consider the brokenness of others to be greater, or of greater seriousness, than our own: whether we consider sexual brokenness to be greater than other areas in which we are broken; or particular expressions of sexual brokenness to be greater than others. Sadly, I believe that the Church, as community of broken individuals and institution, is guilty of this sin – in particular in relation to those whose sexual brokenness is not manifest primarily or fully in opposite-sex desire – and needs to repent.
j) I believe that in order to honestly identify-with and reflect humanity’s brokenness, and model God’s redemptive restoration to wholeness, the Church needs leaders whose sexual brokenness results in or includes a bias towards same-sex relationships as much as the Church needs leaders whose sexual brokenness results in or includes a bias towards heterosexual promiscuity (I suspect, the vast majority of church leaders; myself included).
k) I believe that the Church should be a community where it is safe for leaders to be honest about their brokenness, including specific forms of brokenness – safe enough that they can repent of acting out of that brokenness, when they do, and be restored to the community, including the possibility of retaining their position of leadership; and safe enough for their families. If this is not the case, such honesty, vulnerability, and love is not modelled for the community; and, indeed, secrecy, defensiveness, and hate are endorsed. The Church needs to be a safe place for leaders whose brokenness manifests itself primarily or partially in same-sex desire; and for leaders whose brokenness manifests itself primarily or partially in opposite-sex desire. Sadly, I do not believe that the Church, in general, is a safe place for leaders, regardless of the specific nature of their sexual brokenness.
Though I have given these views some reflection, they are essentially a snap-shot of where I am right now. However, I believe them to be located within orthodox Christian belief, while seeking to be more generous in orthopraxy than the Church has often been. Feel free to disagree with me, strongly if necessarily; but please respect my right to place myself here, at least for now.
human sexuality , church , missional church
a) I believe that every aspect of our being has been broken, in some way or other, as a result of humanity’s decision to act in opposition to God’s expressed will for our lives; as symbolically expressed through the decision of our first representatives, recorded in the first chapters of the Bible.
b) I believe that for each one of us, our sexuality is broken; and that that brokenness is expressed in a variety of ways. I believe that the Bible records some examples of the ways in which sexual brokenness is expressed (though not every possible example), in the forms of prohibitive statements and of narratives that show the consequences of acting out of our brokenness. The examples of sexual brokenness recorded in the Bible are not necessarily considered to be examples of sexual brokenness in every culture; and may be seen as neutral or even desirable in certain cultures. For example, I live in a culture that has a ‘neutral or desirable’ view of adultery, and of same-sex sexual relationships.
c) I believe that our brokenness falls short of the wholeness God intended and hopes for our lives, as those made in God’s image to share in God’s wholeness; and that therefore we can rightly describe our inherent brokenness as ‘sinful nature’ (‘sin’ literally meaning ‘falling short,’ as in an arrow that fails to reach the target), and the actions that result from our brokenness as ‘sins’ (attempts that fall short).
d) I believe that denying our brokenness – whether by calling it ‘not broken,’ or by hiding from others those things in ourselves that we consider broken in others – only serves to further break us.
e) I believe that God longs to bind up the broken-hearted: which I understand to mean, God can hold our broken nature together so closely, so intimately, that we are able to live as though we were whole. I believe that as we (increasingly) admit to our brokenness, and allow God to hold us, we experience (increasing) wholeness.
f) I believe that it is wrong to require that those who do not claim to live in relationship with Christ should live according to the same values as those who do. I believe that the ‘moral norms’ of Christendom, imposed upon culture, served to strengthen the tendency in all of us to hide our brokenness; and also to obscure our need for wholeness, our need to be made whole. I believe that this was unintentional, and deeply ironic; but I am glad that we find ourselves in a post-Christendom context.
g) I believe that, in response to humanity’s commitment to calling brokenness ‘wholeness,’ God has chosen to give humanity over to the consequences of this commitment: brokenness upon brokenness. I believe that God has done so in the hope that we will wake up to the condition in which we find ourselves, and turn (back) to him. But, I also believe that if this is what God has chosen, then when Christians seek to oppose the choices of society – such as legislation that confers the name ‘wholeness’ on brokenness – we may in fact be guilty of opposing God’s decision (as unintentionally and ironically as Christendom – which perhaps such Christians are hoping for a return to). In the specific context of early C21st Britain, I believe that Christians who lobby Government in opposition to civil partnerships and other anti-discrimination legislation (which differs from requesting that Christians have the freedom under law to live differently) fall into this trap.
h) I believe that a lifestyle of habitually behaving out of our brokenness and habitually calling brokenness ‘wholeness’ – as opposed to a lifestyle of habitually wrestling with our brokenness and habitually asking God for grace to overcome, and grace to be restored when we succumb – is incompatible with a life of orthodox Christian discipleship. Regarding sexuality, I believe that same-sex sexual relationships are one of various expressions of sexuality that are incompatible with orthodox Christian discipleship.
i) I believe that we act out of brokenness (that is, we sin) when we consider the brokenness of others to be greater, or of greater seriousness, than our own: whether we consider sexual brokenness to be greater than other areas in which we are broken; or particular expressions of sexual brokenness to be greater than others. Sadly, I believe that the Church, as community of broken individuals and institution, is guilty of this sin – in particular in relation to those whose sexual brokenness is not manifest primarily or fully in opposite-sex desire – and needs to repent.
j) I believe that in order to honestly identify-with and reflect humanity’s brokenness, and model God’s redemptive restoration to wholeness, the Church needs leaders whose sexual brokenness results in or includes a bias towards same-sex relationships as much as the Church needs leaders whose sexual brokenness results in or includes a bias towards heterosexual promiscuity (I suspect, the vast majority of church leaders; myself included).
k) I believe that the Church should be a community where it is safe for leaders to be honest about their brokenness, including specific forms of brokenness – safe enough that they can repent of acting out of that brokenness, when they do, and be restored to the community, including the possibility of retaining their position of leadership; and safe enough for their families. If this is not the case, such honesty, vulnerability, and love is not modelled for the community; and, indeed, secrecy, defensiveness, and hate are endorsed. The Church needs to be a safe place for leaders whose brokenness manifests itself primarily or partially in same-sex desire; and for leaders whose brokenness manifests itself primarily or partially in opposite-sex desire. Sadly, I do not believe that the Church, in general, is a safe place for leaders, regardless of the specific nature of their sexual brokenness.
Though I have given these views some reflection, they are essentially a snap-shot of where I am right now. However, I believe them to be located within orthodox Christian belief, while seeking to be more generous in orthopraxy than the Church has often been. Feel free to disagree with me, strongly if necessarily; but please respect my right to place myself here, at least for now.
human sexuality , church , missional church
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Referee! (Again...)
Bloody hell! (My maternal grandfather would have known how to say that in Welsh.)
Following in the tradition of yesterday’s fourth official who was so out of touch with the rules of rugby that he didn’t know what carrying the ball into touch means, today Wales had to play against Ireland and a referee who doesn’t know that it is illegal to tackle a player who isn’t carrying the ball. In a World Cup year, the standard of international refereeing is looking ominous…
Six Nations Rugby , referee
Following in the tradition of yesterday’s fourth official who was so out of touch with the rules of rugby that he didn’t know what carrying the ball into touch means, today Wales had to play against Ireland and a referee who doesn’t know that it is illegal to tackle a player who isn’t carrying the ball. In a World Cup year, the standard of international refereeing is looking ominous…
Six Nations Rugby , referee
Saturday, February 03, 2007
A Bitter-Sweet Taste In The Mouth
I am a British mongrel, with a claim on supporting England, Scotland, and Wales at sport. For reasons personal and historic (primarily that I found Gavin Hastings an admirable human being, and Will Carling a thoroughly objectionable one), I support Scotland when it comes to rugby. A year ago, Scotland beat England in the Calcutta Cup match, to most people’s surprise. Today, England reclaimed the silver jug (which happens to be the oldest international trophy in the world), to the surprise of many.
I’m genuinely pleased to see the return of Jonny Wilkinson and Jason Robinson to the England side, both after long-term absence through career-threatening injury. They are a joy to watch, and between them they accounted for all but 5 of England’s 42 points this afternoon. Yes, I’d rather they had been playing anyone else other than the boys in dark blue.
Though the score-line of any given match (in this case, 42:20) may hide it, the difference between any international sides is very small. Three factors – catalysts, injury, and referee error – make the difference between winning and losing, and two of those are unfortunate.
In sporting terms, a catalyst is a player whose presence in the side transforms all the other players, so that the game they produce is greater than the sum of the parts (including the catalyst). Generally, it is good to have several catalysts in any squad, and two or (at most) three in the given team on the field: too many in play at one time results in a dissipation of the very energy having a couple of catalysts brings. Last season, Scotland were transformed by the catalyst captain Jason White; and this season they will miss his presence, due to injury. Since becoming world champions in 2003, England has missed the catalysts Wilkinson and Robinson, again through injury, until now (and, of course, other catalysts, such as Martin Johnston, through retirement). To switch to cricket, England won the Ashes in 2005 because of certain catalyst players (helped by the absence of Australian catalyst McGrath through injury); and comprehensibly lost the Ashes in 2006/7, with arguably a stronger squad in terms of the sum of the parts, because that squad lacked catalysts.
Today Scotland were without their key catalyst, while England got their’s back. Which brings us to injury: incidences of career-threatening or ending injury have risen dramatically since the game turned professional. To an extent, fitter players provide a more entertaining game for sponsors and fans. But the professional era has been bad for players, and is therefore bad for rugby. We are unlikely to be able to return to an amateur code (too many vested interests; too many infrastructure debts), but, beneath the surface the game is in a bad way and is unsustainable in its present form…
The third factor is referee error. While I enjoyed watching Jonny Wilkinson kick the ball today, I was seriously unimpressed by the decision, made by the fourth official (whose job is to watch replays where the match referee and linesmen did not get a clear view), to award him his try. The slowed-down replay showed beyond reasonable doubt that his right foot had made contact with the ground outside the touchline before he grounded the ball behind the goal-line. No fifteen men can expect to win against nineteen men. At 30-13 with 20 minutes still to play, England were certainly in control of the game, but things were far from over; having to concede 7 points you’ve actually just prevented was a critically harsh blow. Teams should win or lose on the merits of what they achieve on the pitch. England deserved to win the match this afternoon, though by a smaller margin.
There are lessons here for the missional church:
The Church needs to identify and include catalysts, among both clergy and laity, allowing them to bring their transforming energy to ‘the teams’ (as opposed to identifying and excluding them);
The Church needs to reconsider the injuring pressure that it puts on clergy, in particular, as ‘professional players’ (as well as the costs inherent in sustaining infrastructure);
The Church needs to recognise that those appointed to make decisions sometimes make bad decisions – that have lasting impact. While a game requires people who have been given the authority to make decisions concerning the ordered flow of play; and requires that players submit to that authority; these inherent requirements come with their own inherent flaws. The criteria on which decisions are made, along with the means to challenge them, and some possibility of redress, must be open to change in a transparent context.
Six Nations Rugby , catalysts , church , missional church
I’m genuinely pleased to see the return of Jonny Wilkinson and Jason Robinson to the England side, both after long-term absence through career-threatening injury. They are a joy to watch, and between them they accounted for all but 5 of England’s 42 points this afternoon. Yes, I’d rather they had been playing anyone else other than the boys in dark blue.
Though the score-line of any given match (in this case, 42:20) may hide it, the difference between any international sides is very small. Three factors – catalysts, injury, and referee error – make the difference between winning and losing, and two of those are unfortunate.
In sporting terms, a catalyst is a player whose presence in the side transforms all the other players, so that the game they produce is greater than the sum of the parts (including the catalyst). Generally, it is good to have several catalysts in any squad, and two or (at most) three in the given team on the field: too many in play at one time results in a dissipation of the very energy having a couple of catalysts brings. Last season, Scotland were transformed by the catalyst captain Jason White; and this season they will miss his presence, due to injury. Since becoming world champions in 2003, England has missed the catalysts Wilkinson and Robinson, again through injury, until now (and, of course, other catalysts, such as Martin Johnston, through retirement). To switch to cricket, England won the Ashes in 2005 because of certain catalyst players (helped by the absence of Australian catalyst McGrath through injury); and comprehensibly lost the Ashes in 2006/7, with arguably a stronger squad in terms of the sum of the parts, because that squad lacked catalysts.
Today Scotland were without their key catalyst, while England got their’s back. Which brings us to injury: incidences of career-threatening or ending injury have risen dramatically since the game turned professional. To an extent, fitter players provide a more entertaining game for sponsors and fans. But the professional era has been bad for players, and is therefore bad for rugby. We are unlikely to be able to return to an amateur code (too many vested interests; too many infrastructure debts), but, beneath the surface the game is in a bad way and is unsustainable in its present form…
The third factor is referee error. While I enjoyed watching Jonny Wilkinson kick the ball today, I was seriously unimpressed by the decision, made by the fourth official (whose job is to watch replays where the match referee and linesmen did not get a clear view), to award him his try. The slowed-down replay showed beyond reasonable doubt that his right foot had made contact with the ground outside the touchline before he grounded the ball behind the goal-line. No fifteen men can expect to win against nineteen men. At 30-13 with 20 minutes still to play, England were certainly in control of the game, but things were far from over; having to concede 7 points you’ve actually just prevented was a critically harsh blow. Teams should win or lose on the merits of what they achieve on the pitch. England deserved to win the match this afternoon, though by a smaller margin.
There are lessons here for the missional church:
The Church needs to identify and include catalysts, among both clergy and laity, allowing them to bring their transforming energy to ‘the teams’ (as opposed to identifying and excluding them);
The Church needs to reconsider the injuring pressure that it puts on clergy, in particular, as ‘professional players’ (as well as the costs inherent in sustaining infrastructure);
The Church needs to recognise that those appointed to make decisions sometimes make bad decisions – that have lasting impact. While a game requires people who have been given the authority to make decisions concerning the ordered flow of play; and requires that players submit to that authority; these inherent requirements come with their own inherent flaws. The criteria on which decisions are made, along with the means to challenge them, and some possibility of redress, must be open to change in a transparent context.
Six Nations Rugby , catalysts , church , missional church
Friday, February 02, 2007
Environment Sheffield
In a report out today, Sheffield is listed as the 12th noisiest city in England. The report demonstrates that urban noise levels cause permanent damage to the ears, resulting in hearing loss – as well as having a detrimental impact on mental and emotional wellbeing of city-dwellers. Ranking 12th while being England’s fifth largest city, the good news is that Sheffield is a better sound environment than it might be; but noise pollution is a quality-of-life issue (“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Jesus, John 10:10) that gives plenty of scope for missional imagination.
How might churches – communities of believers, and properties – create spaces in the city that enable those around us to step out of noise pollution, and experience sound as a means of healing? And might the accumulation of such spaces alter the overall noise pattern of the city?
Sheffield lays claim to being one of the ‘greenest’ cities in Europe – at least in terms of the number, and percentage area-coverage, of parks; and the number of trees lining residential roads. This month will see the city host a major environment conference, with a combination of public and by-invitation events taking place, and Inconvenient Truth-teller Al Gore as keynote speaker. If you live in or near Sheffield, and are interested, the list of events is here.
Sheffield , noise pollution , environmental issues , Al Gore , missional church
How might churches – communities of believers, and properties – create spaces in the city that enable those around us to step out of noise pollution, and experience sound as a means of healing? And might the accumulation of such spaces alter the overall noise pattern of the city?
Sheffield lays claim to being one of the ‘greenest’ cities in Europe – at least in terms of the number, and percentage area-coverage, of parks; and the number of trees lining residential roads. This month will see the city host a major environment conference, with a combination of public and by-invitation events taking place, and Inconvenient Truth-teller Al Gore as keynote speaker. If you live in or near Sheffield, and are interested, the list of events is here.
Sheffield , noise pollution , environmental issues , Al Gore , missional church
The Right Gospel?
What is the gospel?
I’d say that The Gospel is the grand, expansive Redemptive Story, that transforms all of time and eternity, and everything created within them. But The Gospel has a starting-point: the gospel. If The Gospel is the radiating ripples transforming the water of a lake – beneath, as well as on, the surface – the gospel is the pebble that broke the surface. The impact-point of the gospel, as modelled by Jesus, is always personal, contextual and experiential. To the blind man, the gospel is, “Receive your sight.” To the leper, the gospel is, “Receive your cleansing.” To the demonised, the gospel is, “Receive your deliverance from affliction.” To the widow of Nain, the gospel is, “Receive back your son.” To Martha and Mary, the gospel is, “Receive back your brother.” To the woman excluded from society because of continual menstrual bleeding, the gospel is, “Receive your physical healing and your restoration back into the community.” To the paralytic lowered through the roof by his friends, the gospel is, “Receive forgiveness for your inner being and healing for your outer being.”
At the funeral I attended yesterday, the gospel was proclaimed. But I’m not entirely sure it was the right gospel. The vicar spoke of ‘our belief’ that Jesus was the human face of God. But many present would not necessarily share the vicar’s beliefs; and I wondered whether his language didn’t rail-road all other beliefs into silence; didn’t (quite unintentionally, I’m sure) manipulate those mourning? He pointed to the cross on the wall above us, and spoke of how we all deserved to go to hell for the wrong things we had done, but that Jesus’ death in our place meant that we didn’t have to. And I understand why we might think that a funeral is the most appropriate place to talk about ‘Life After Death’ (including a measure of desperation: this may well be the one shot we get at saying this to these people). But I can’t help wondering whether a funeral is not, in fact, the most inappropriate place to talk about ‘Life After Death.’ I can’t help wondering whether a funeral should not, rather, be the place to talk about ‘life after a death’ and that the right gospel – the experiential invitation – to proclaim is God’s expressed will to comfort those who mourn…
I don’t take issue with the things that the vicar said. I’m just not sure it was the time and the place to say those things. And I’m genuinely not sure. So I’m not saying, he got it wrong; and I’m not saying, I’ve got it right. But I suspect that in our desire to proclaim The Gospel, we all sometimes – perhaps often? – miss the opportunity to proclaim the gospel. And I suspect that proclaiming the gospel is what we are called to do.
missional church leadership , missional church , gospel , bereavement
I’d say that The Gospel is the grand, expansive Redemptive Story, that transforms all of time and eternity, and everything created within them. But The Gospel has a starting-point: the gospel. If The Gospel is the radiating ripples transforming the water of a lake – beneath, as well as on, the surface – the gospel is the pebble that broke the surface. The impact-point of the gospel, as modelled by Jesus, is always personal, contextual and experiential. To the blind man, the gospel is, “Receive your sight.” To the leper, the gospel is, “Receive your cleansing.” To the demonised, the gospel is, “Receive your deliverance from affliction.” To the widow of Nain, the gospel is, “Receive back your son.” To Martha and Mary, the gospel is, “Receive back your brother.” To the woman excluded from society because of continual menstrual bleeding, the gospel is, “Receive your physical healing and your restoration back into the community.” To the paralytic lowered through the roof by his friends, the gospel is, “Receive forgiveness for your inner being and healing for your outer being.”
At the funeral I attended yesterday, the gospel was proclaimed. But I’m not entirely sure it was the right gospel. The vicar spoke of ‘our belief’ that Jesus was the human face of God. But many present would not necessarily share the vicar’s beliefs; and I wondered whether his language didn’t rail-road all other beliefs into silence; didn’t (quite unintentionally, I’m sure) manipulate those mourning? He pointed to the cross on the wall above us, and spoke of how we all deserved to go to hell for the wrong things we had done, but that Jesus’ death in our place meant that we didn’t have to. And I understand why we might think that a funeral is the most appropriate place to talk about ‘Life After Death’ (including a measure of desperation: this may well be the one shot we get at saying this to these people). But I can’t help wondering whether a funeral is not, in fact, the most inappropriate place to talk about ‘Life After Death.’ I can’t help wondering whether a funeral should not, rather, be the place to talk about ‘life after a death’ and that the right gospel – the experiential invitation – to proclaim is God’s expressed will to comfort those who mourn…
I don’t take issue with the things that the vicar said. I’m just not sure it was the time and the place to say those things. And I’m genuinely not sure. So I’m not saying, he got it wrong; and I’m not saying, I’ve got it right. But I suspect that in our desire to proclaim The Gospel, we all sometimes – perhaps often? – miss the opportunity to proclaim the gospel. And I suspect that proclaiming the gospel is what we are called to do.
missional church leadership , missional church , gospel , bereavement
Sunday, January 28, 2007
News Round-up
A couple of things have happened to or around us this past week, that I feel I want to write about here (because there are people who read this who are interested in our lives, and whom I would want to know); but because the events also concern other people, I’m not sure how to go about it…
I work part-time supporting nine physically disabled adults who live together in a sheltered housing scheme. Last Monday evening, one of the tenants died. In the thirteen years since the scheme opened, this is the first time that a member of the community has died. If you understand what I mean, her death was not a surprise, but was still a shock. Can I say that in a small community the impact of a death feels somehow magnified, without sounding dispassionate about the impact of death in other contexts? Anyway, this event has brought a whole new dimension to the supporting role. And can I say that some of the conversations I’ve been able to have with tenants have been really good, very positive experiences, and that they have made being there feel more worthwhile, without sounding callous? I think I can. The funeral is on Thursday.
I also go into my daughter’s Year 1 class at school one morning a week, as a voluntary parent helper. I went in one afternoon a week when she was in Reception, so I’ve been able to build up a relationship with the kids, several of the parents, and various members of staff. This school year the class has felt very different from last; and there are a number of aspects parents are unhappy about. The school seems to be trying to address certain symptoms, but not underlying causes; and the strategies for dealing with symptoms seem to be further aggravating both symptoms and causes. On Thursday morning, while I was in the classroom, things reached a point where I felt I had no option but to walk out, and to remove my daughter from school for the rest of the day. Jo and I are meeting with the head teacher tomorrow morning to discuss things. We are committed to the school community; and what I did has the support of those other parents we’ve spoken to; so I hope that we will be listened to, and that we might see a positive move forward for everyone involved.
I work part-time supporting nine physically disabled adults who live together in a sheltered housing scheme. Last Monday evening, one of the tenants died. In the thirteen years since the scheme opened, this is the first time that a member of the community has died. If you understand what I mean, her death was not a surprise, but was still a shock. Can I say that in a small community the impact of a death feels somehow magnified, without sounding dispassionate about the impact of death in other contexts? Anyway, this event has brought a whole new dimension to the supporting role. And can I say that some of the conversations I’ve been able to have with tenants have been really good, very positive experiences, and that they have made being there feel more worthwhile, without sounding callous? I think I can. The funeral is on Thursday.
I also go into my daughter’s Year 1 class at school one morning a week, as a voluntary parent helper. I went in one afternoon a week when she was in Reception, so I’ve been able to build up a relationship with the kids, several of the parents, and various members of staff. This school year the class has felt very different from last; and there are a number of aspects parents are unhappy about. The school seems to be trying to address certain symptoms, but not underlying causes; and the strategies for dealing with symptoms seem to be further aggravating both symptoms and causes. On Thursday morning, while I was in the classroom, things reached a point where I felt I had no option but to walk out, and to remove my daughter from school for the rest of the day. Jo and I are meeting with the head teacher tomorrow morning to discuss things. We are committed to the school community; and what I did has the support of those other parents we’ve spoken to; so I hope that we will be listened to, and that we might see a positive move forward for everyone involved.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Religion || Sexuality || Discrimination
The Roman Catholic Church is asking the Government for exemption for its adoption agencies from forthcoming equality legislation that will require adoption agencies to place children with homosexual couples who wish to adopt. Their position is being presented as discrimination against gays; but the matter is much more complex than this.
‘Discrimination’ is a word that has become troubled by the tension between its two meanings: positively, the ability to make a choice as to which is the better of two options (discriminating between); and, negatively, the persecution of those who differ from us because they differ from us (discriminating against).
There is a significant difference between equality legislation and anti-discrimination legislation; between an equality position, or ideology, and an anti-discrimination position, or ideology. Equality recognises that the rights of people who differ from us in some way need to be affirmed. Anti-discrimination fails to recognise that the rights of people who differ from us in some way need to be affirmed.
Anti-discrimination by necessity simply shifts the focus or direction of discriminating against another, because it denies the possibility of discriminating between two groups; whereas equality deconstructs the act of discriminating against another, by affirming the possibility of discerning between two groups. Equality says, you are as good as me. Anti-discrimination says, you need to recognise that I am better than you.
It strikes me that the Roman Catholic position is an equality position: they acknowledge the right of homosexual couples living in a secular society that affirms civil partnerships in law to adopt children; and want to refer such couples to the secular social services adoption agencies who can assist them to do so. On the other hand, it strikes me that those who oppose the Roman Catholic position hold an anti-discrimination position: they do not see room for a group within society who hold a view different to their own, and oppose the right to hold, as a matter of conscience, a different view.
One of the marks of a mature society is the willingness to affirm those who differ from us, as opposed to the insistence of homogeneity, or uniformity. Another mark of a mature society is its capacity to uphold exemptions in law. For example, women living in the UK have a legal right to the termination of pregnancy. However, GPs are not required to perform this procedure: some will advise women, and refer them to another GP if they wish to proceed; some will advise but not even refer. And that is considered acceptable, as a matter of conscience. Neither the legal right of women nor the moral right of medics are violated.
Moving from society as a whole to groups within society, if we are secure in our identity, we will take a stand to ask that we are respected by those who differ from us; but beyond that we will not see the need to demand our rights. Instead, we will lay down our rights, and take a stand for the rights of others. If we are secure in our identity, we will not need to belittle those who differ from us.
I am neither a Roman Catholic nor a homosexual. But I would want to respect both – which first requires a commitment to love both, because it is not possible to respect someone you do not love, however inadequately; and all the more so when you disagree with them on issues that matter to you. And I would want to affirm the right of homosexuals to be served by adoption agencies, and the right of Roman Catholic adoption agencies to serve homosexuals by referring them to other agencies. That would seem to me the measured response our multi-cultural, multi-ideological society needs and yet appears to be lacking…
religion and sexuality , discrimination , British society
‘Discrimination’ is a word that has become troubled by the tension between its two meanings: positively, the ability to make a choice as to which is the better of two options (discriminating between); and, negatively, the persecution of those who differ from us because they differ from us (discriminating against).
There is a significant difference between equality legislation and anti-discrimination legislation; between an equality position, or ideology, and an anti-discrimination position, or ideology. Equality recognises that the rights of people who differ from us in some way need to be affirmed. Anti-discrimination fails to recognise that the rights of people who differ from us in some way need to be affirmed.
Anti-discrimination by necessity simply shifts the focus or direction of discriminating against another, because it denies the possibility of discriminating between two groups; whereas equality deconstructs the act of discriminating against another, by affirming the possibility of discerning between two groups. Equality says, you are as good as me. Anti-discrimination says, you need to recognise that I am better than you.
It strikes me that the Roman Catholic position is an equality position: they acknowledge the right of homosexual couples living in a secular society that affirms civil partnerships in law to adopt children; and want to refer such couples to the secular social services adoption agencies who can assist them to do so. On the other hand, it strikes me that those who oppose the Roman Catholic position hold an anti-discrimination position: they do not see room for a group within society who hold a view different to their own, and oppose the right to hold, as a matter of conscience, a different view.
One of the marks of a mature society is the willingness to affirm those who differ from us, as opposed to the insistence of homogeneity, or uniformity. Another mark of a mature society is its capacity to uphold exemptions in law. For example, women living in the UK have a legal right to the termination of pregnancy. However, GPs are not required to perform this procedure: some will advise women, and refer them to another GP if they wish to proceed; some will advise but not even refer. And that is considered acceptable, as a matter of conscience. Neither the legal right of women nor the moral right of medics are violated.
Moving from society as a whole to groups within society, if we are secure in our identity, we will take a stand to ask that we are respected by those who differ from us; but beyond that we will not see the need to demand our rights. Instead, we will lay down our rights, and take a stand for the rights of others. If we are secure in our identity, we will not need to belittle those who differ from us.
I am neither a Roman Catholic nor a homosexual. But I would want to respect both – which first requires a commitment to love both, because it is not possible to respect someone you do not love, however inadequately; and all the more so when you disagree with them on issues that matter to you. And I would want to affirm the right of homosexuals to be served by adoption agencies, and the right of Roman Catholic adoption agencies to serve homosexuals by referring them to other agencies. That would seem to me the measured response our multi-cultural, multi-ideological society needs and yet appears to be lacking…
religion and sexuality , discrimination , British society
Friday, January 19, 2007
Organic || Manufactured
I was in the pub having lunch today, when I over-heard a snatch of conversation from the next table:
“…And did [that] feel as if it were manufactured, as opposed to real?”
That’s all I caught; and I have no idea what they were discussing. But it made me think of the current buzz around church needing to be ‘organic,’ and the implied dichotomy, where:
Something that is manufactured = false, bad, inauthentic, artificial, a problem
and
Something that is organic = true, good, authentic, natural, a solution
Of course, the bizarre thing about the conversation I overheard was that the two women were sat on manufactured chairs at a manufactured table, in a building constructed of manufactured parts; and had got there in a (possibly in two) manufactured car(s).
Community – the social bonds forged by living together in stability over time – does not ‘just happen.’ Likewise, communitas – the social bonds forged by living together through an intense period of crisis; the kind of shared experience, often task-focused, that happens outside of community but plays an essential role in re-invigorating and ensuring the ongoing survival of community – does not ‘just happen.’
To some degree, church – being church, doing church – has to be manufactured. I understand the need for ‘organic’ language, as a (necessary) counter-balance to some of the structures (of thought, word, and deed) of inherited church that restrict growth (both qualitative and quantitative). I also understand that when a pendulum swings, it swings as far in the opposite direction…and that there are certain unquestioned assumptions, and snobbery, at play: are bands that formed at college in response to the singer’s ad on the students’ union notice-board inherently better than ‘manufactured’ bands formed in response to a record producer’s national search?
But there are ‘good’ manufacturing practices, and ‘bad’ manufacturing practices; ‘good’ manufactured products, and ‘bad’ manufactured products. And there are practices, and products, that can be improved on – especially in response to, or anticipation of, changing circumstances…and practices and products that can become superseded, or even detrimental, especially through failing to respond to or anticipate change…
missional church leadership , organic church
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Fair Dinkum
Ever since St Paul travelled along the incredible road network of the Roman Empire writing letters in what had become the common language of The Known World, missionaries and other pioneers within the Church have always made use of the new communication technologies of their day. That is, of course, the nature of pioneers. The Church pioneered the media of printed text, and secured its place as dominant communication form in its time. Looking at the ever-growing list of Christian books, I think perhaps we have come to love it too much, and for the wrong reasons: for its own sake, or for the sake of promoting ourselves. And perhaps not least as an antidote, pioneers reach a point where they have to walk away, from something that still has a significant future, and go do something else instead.
Also, while it is invaluable to the wider Church to have pioneers sharing their experimental practices as they go along, eventually it just becomes harder and harder to ‘do what you do’ with the eyes of the world on you, and outsiders looking in wanting your time and effort. So the sharing/modelling thing is perhaps best done like geese in flight, where each bird takes their rotating turn to be at the front…
Andrew Hamilton over in Perth, Western Australia, has been a true pioneer of missional church blogging. We had the privilege of hanging out with him, and Danelle and their kids, when we spent three months in Perth at the end of 2005. It was an extended encounter that still shapes me. Now Hamo has decided to stop blogging, at least for the next two years. At one level, this is a real loss; but my guess is that where Hamo steps aside, we’ll see others who have been inspired by him step up – and that we’ll see Hamo back again, in due course, recognisably the same and yet transformed into something new. Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies…
Thank you, Andrew.
missional church leadership , blogging
Also, while it is invaluable to the wider Church to have pioneers sharing their experimental practices as they go along, eventually it just becomes harder and harder to ‘do what you do’ with the eyes of the world on you, and outsiders looking in wanting your time and effort. So the sharing/modelling thing is perhaps best done like geese in flight, where each bird takes their rotating turn to be at the front…
Andrew Hamilton over in Perth, Western Australia, has been a true pioneer of missional church blogging. We had the privilege of hanging out with him, and Danelle and their kids, when we spent three months in Perth at the end of 2005. It was an extended encounter that still shapes me. Now Hamo has decided to stop blogging, at least for the next two years. At one level, this is a real loss; but my guess is that where Hamo steps aside, we’ll see others who have been inspired by him step up – and that we’ll see Hamo back again, in due course, recognisably the same and yet transformed into something new. Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies…
Thank you, Andrew.
missional church leadership , blogging
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Four Noah
Today is Noah’s fourth birthday. (Photos taken on Boxing Day.) He wasn’t overly interested in his presents – not, I think, saintly disinterest in material acquisitions; nor devilish ingratitude; but merely too close a proximity to Christmas – but he was inordinately proud that it was his birthday; that he was ‘the birthday boy!’ ‘Four’ would appear to be a coming-of-age, a passing out of the childish years of ‘being three’ into adulthood. You might be getting a little ahead of yourself there, son. But you’re pointing in the right direction. Certainly he’s more confident in himself, as a person in his own right, as displayed in both more affectionate and more aggressive behaviour.
And when it comes down to it, I think that life – and, indeed eternity – is best about becoming who we have been made to be. I love the hinted-at story of Mark, running through the New Testament. According to Church tradition, the first time we come across him, he is the scaredy-cat, running away from the scene of Jesus’ arrest (Mark 14:51, 52); the second time, he is the cautious-cat, setting off on an adventure with Paul, but running home with his tail between his legs the moment the going gets tough (Acts 12:25; 13:13; 15:36-41); the third time, something has been going on in him, because he’s reconciled with Paul, who praises him (Titus 4:11; oh, and during this time he’s also been Peter’s helper in Rome, and written a Gospel that will help guide the Church for two thousand years and beyond); and the final time we see him is as the lion before the throne of God, growing into his true character (Revelation 4:6-8). Not bad, for a scaredy-cat.
I wonder who my son will become; and what hardships will break and make him. And I pray that I will help him become that person to a greater degree than I oppose him.
family
And when it comes down to it, I think that life – and, indeed eternity – is best about becoming who we have been made to be. I love the hinted-at story of Mark, running through the New Testament. According to Church tradition, the first time we come across him, he is the scaredy-cat, running away from the scene of Jesus’ arrest (Mark 14:51, 52); the second time, he is the cautious-cat, setting off on an adventure with Paul, but running home with his tail between his legs the moment the going gets tough (Acts 12:25; 13:13; 15:36-41); the third time, something has been going on in him, because he’s reconciled with Paul, who praises him (Titus 4:11; oh, and during this time he’s also been Peter’s helper in Rome, and written a Gospel that will help guide the Church for two thousand years and beyond); and the final time we see him is as the lion before the throne of God, growing into his true character (Revelation 4:6-8). Not bad, for a scaredy-cat.
I wonder who my son will become; and what hardships will break and make him. And I pray that I will help him become that person to a greater degree than I oppose him.
family
Friday, January 12, 2007
Hyper-Reality || Authenticity
A good friend of ours recently made the comment, first to my wife and then to me, that if she didn’t know us in real life and her only impression of our family came from reading my blog that she would conclude that we were The Waltons, and she’d feel really inadequate…which appalled me, because it has never been my intention to present my family as some frankly very fake version of being ‘perfect.’
I’m certainly glad that because ‘Marge Simpson’ (only kidding; though, you know, Bart and your boy…and come to think of it, I’ve never seen them together) knows us in real life she gets a different perspective – and it won’t only be from getting my wife’s version! She knows that as well as being the weird mystic type – “Most of us have enough on our plate just getting on with everyday life. You see…a brick, and it reveals God to you” – I’m also the weird mystic type who gets deeply frustrated with my kids/wife/and, to be fair, other-human-beings-in-general, even though I love them more than I can say. And that sometimes, just sometimes, I can’t resist saying something really inappropriate, but funny. It is not so much that the ‘real life me’ is more honest (or, less able to pull off an illusion), and the ‘blogged me’ is less honest: it is more that when you have both you get a fuller picture than when you only have one or the other (and not least because I’m an introvert, and writing comes easier to me than speaking). As a form, blogs have their limitations; and their potential, too. Personally, I like the relationships where the blogosphere and real life entwine best: other bloggers I know in person; or those who don’t blog themselves but read mine because they know me.
Anyway, I’m reading Michael Frost’s Exiles, which is both convicting and inspiring; and in where I’ve got to this evening he writes about the culture of hyper-reality (better-than-the-real-thing products; reality TV), and how more and more people have had enough of it and are seeking for authenticity instead (e.g. food that tastes of food, not like-food-but-more-so); and how so much of church culture, including how leaders present themselves, buys into hyper-reality hook, line and sinker. When we should do the very opposite; should hold out authenticity.
I think it is important that I do write about my family, in the midst of other reflections: that it helps ground the other stuff - or should do. Plus there are some people who only come by to read the family stories. And what I write should honour my family – but not portray them as porcelain saints. I don’t want to write (too often) about the things my children do that make me mad – but perhaps I ought to write (more often) about the brokenness in me that triggers my getting mad at them…I want to tell stories that inspire, not agree with negative images of family life (there are enough out there to choose from) – but not pretend that shit doesn’t happen.
So I just want to say sorry if I have ever crushed anyone with hyper-reality. And I know that I get comments posted on here that show that some of what I blog is really appreciated by some people – that it either inspires them or gives them some kind of helpful resource – and that is great. That is why I do it. But, I’m sorry if what I have posted – and in particular what I have posted about my family – has done the opposite. Please forgive me.
hyper reality , authenticity , missional church leadership , blogging
I’m certainly glad that because ‘Marge Simpson’ (only kidding; though, you know, Bart and your boy…and come to think of it, I’ve never seen them together) knows us in real life she gets a different perspective – and it won’t only be from getting my wife’s version! She knows that as well as being the weird mystic type – “Most of us have enough on our plate just getting on with everyday life. You see…a brick, and it reveals God to you” – I’m also the weird mystic type who gets deeply frustrated with my kids/wife/and, to be fair, other-human-beings-in-general, even though I love them more than I can say. And that sometimes, just sometimes, I can’t resist saying something really inappropriate, but funny. It is not so much that the ‘real life me’ is more honest (or, less able to pull off an illusion), and the ‘blogged me’ is less honest: it is more that when you have both you get a fuller picture than when you only have one or the other (and not least because I’m an introvert, and writing comes easier to me than speaking). As a form, blogs have their limitations; and their potential, too. Personally, I like the relationships where the blogosphere and real life entwine best: other bloggers I know in person; or those who don’t blog themselves but read mine because they know me.
Anyway, I’m reading Michael Frost’s Exiles, which is both convicting and inspiring; and in where I’ve got to this evening he writes about the culture of hyper-reality (better-than-the-real-thing products; reality TV), and how more and more people have had enough of it and are seeking for authenticity instead (e.g. food that tastes of food, not like-food-but-more-so); and how so much of church culture, including how leaders present themselves, buys into hyper-reality hook, line and sinker. When we should do the very opposite; should hold out authenticity.
I think it is important that I do write about my family, in the midst of other reflections: that it helps ground the other stuff - or should do. Plus there are some people who only come by to read the family stories. And what I write should honour my family – but not portray them as porcelain saints. I don’t want to write (too often) about the things my children do that make me mad – but perhaps I ought to write (more often) about the brokenness in me that triggers my getting mad at them…I want to tell stories that inspire, not agree with negative images of family life (there are enough out there to choose from) – but not pretend that shit doesn’t happen.
So I just want to say sorry if I have ever crushed anyone with hyper-reality. And I know that I get comments posted on here that show that some of what I blog is really appreciated by some people – that it either inspires them or gives them some kind of helpful resource – and that is great. That is why I do it. But, I’m sorry if what I have posted – and in particular what I have posted about my family – has done the opposite. Please forgive me.
hyper reality , authenticity , missional church leadership , blogging
Accountability
The third traditional vow made by those entering religious orders is one of obedience, expressed as obedience to the abbot of a monastery and the superior of the order. Such a relationship is workable (not necessarily easy!) when one has withdrawn from the world into the community of a monastery (a monk) or lives within the wider community as one set aside to serve it (a friar), in which circumstances you are deployed in your responsibilities by the order, through the person of the abbot or superior. It is less workable within new-monastic communities, where members may serve within a particular career – consultant doctors within the National Health Service, to cite an example – and the order does not have sole say in their deployment. More than this, obedience suggests (whether this is the spirit within traditional orders or not) a relationship in which one person exercises power over another, rather than helps them to discover and engage with God’s will for their life (which I suspect may be closer to the spirit of traditional orders). Such a relationship is likely to be viewed with suspicion by the type of Christian generally found in new-monastic communities, either because of a wariness brought about by having seen too many instances of abuse by leaders within the Church; or/and because of a commitment to a flatter communal model of church leadership, as opposed to a strongly hierarchical one. We might struggle with ‘obedience’ without wishing to be an autonomous agent.
Finally, we must consider the call on religious orders to be counter-cultural agents of reform within the Church, and wider society. Regarding accountability, the dominant paradigm operating within the Church at present is one of ‘high control, low accountability.’ By this I mean when those in positions of authority (such as a bishop to a priest, or a local church leader to their congregation) choose not to ask those under their authority questions concerning their conduct in ‘private’ matters (low accountability); but are inflexible on certain actions concerning their conduct in ‘public’ matters (high control). The dominant paradigm operating within my wider, western, society is also one of ‘high control, low accountability.’ By this I mean that there are many rules – some unwritten and unspoken; others legislated – concerning how we ought to behave, in particular in public; but very little challenge to self-centredness, or support to live in ways that build strong, healthy community. The counter-cultural impulse, to both Church and society, is one of ‘low control, high accountability.’
Being part of a community committed to accountability is incredibly liberating. It means that I can engage with ‘difficult’ faith questions; and explore the provisional responses required by the hard questions raised by pioneering missional contexts; safe in the knowledge that there are people who are committed to me who will help me to think through the questions, and through my answers, and will help me to live a life consistent with the (albeit provisional) responses we arrive at. Taking a step back to consider life in general – for example, making decisions concerning work, and family life, and the balance between them – having a community who will hold me to account, and who will commit to my holding them to account, provides a level of support that we just wouldn’t have if we were to ‘go it alone.’ (Of course, this level of support is found in many local churches, and other social groups; but our population is so mobile that transferring such support across any moves is potentially very hit-and-miss.)
Engaging with the vow of accountability helps us to engage with the first and second vows, of simplicity and purity. Working through what simplicity or purity looks like in any given situation, and committing to living that way, frankly requires community effort. In turn, engaging with simplicity helps us to define the structure of accountability; and engaging with purity helps us to have the right motive in holding each other to account – to help each other wrestle with what it means to be a disciple of Christ, with the goal of becoming more like him, being transformed into his likeness. In this way, the three vows are woven together into the fabric of our life as an order. Or, perhaps more precise, each element of one three-part vow compliments the others and work together.
The Order of Mission , new monasticism , nu monasticism , accountability
Finally, we must consider the call on religious orders to be counter-cultural agents of reform within the Church, and wider society. Regarding accountability, the dominant paradigm operating within the Church at present is one of ‘high control, low accountability.’ By this I mean when those in positions of authority (such as a bishop to a priest, or a local church leader to their congregation) choose not to ask those under their authority questions concerning their conduct in ‘private’ matters (low accountability); but are inflexible on certain actions concerning their conduct in ‘public’ matters (high control). The dominant paradigm operating within my wider, western, society is also one of ‘high control, low accountability.’ By this I mean that there are many rules – some unwritten and unspoken; others legislated – concerning how we ought to behave, in particular in public; but very little challenge to self-centredness, or support to live in ways that build strong, healthy community. The counter-cultural impulse, to both Church and society, is one of ‘low control, high accountability.’
Being part of a community committed to accountability is incredibly liberating. It means that I can engage with ‘difficult’ faith questions; and explore the provisional responses required by the hard questions raised by pioneering missional contexts; safe in the knowledge that there are people who are committed to me who will help me to think through the questions, and through my answers, and will help me to live a life consistent with the (albeit provisional) responses we arrive at. Taking a step back to consider life in general – for example, making decisions concerning work, and family life, and the balance between them – having a community who will hold me to account, and who will commit to my holding them to account, provides a level of support that we just wouldn’t have if we were to ‘go it alone.’ (Of course, this level of support is found in many local churches, and other social groups; but our population is so mobile that transferring such support across any moves is potentially very hit-and-miss.)
Engaging with the vow of accountability helps us to engage with the first and second vows, of simplicity and purity. Working through what simplicity or purity looks like in any given situation, and committing to living that way, frankly requires community effort. In turn, engaging with simplicity helps us to define the structure of accountability; and engaging with purity helps us to have the right motive in holding each other to account – to help each other wrestle with what it means to be a disciple of Christ, with the goal of becoming more like him, being transformed into his likeness. In this way, the three vows are woven together into the fabric of our life as an order. Or, perhaps more precise, each element of one three-part vow compliments the others and work together.
The Order of Mission , new monasticism , nu monasticism , accountability
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Football. S-O-C-C-E-R, Foot-ball!
So David Beckham is to become a missionary, of sorts, and attempt to convert the adult male population of the USA to the One True Faith of football (or soccer, as they will insist on calling it).
I can’t remember the last time we successfully imported a sport to America. I’m guessing it might be baseball, which we all know is as American as apple pie – though, as you might suspect along with me, apples were surely baked in pies before the Americans did so. Baseball was invented in England. The first recorded description dates from 1744, in an English book reprinted in America in 1762; (incidentally, it does not derive from Rounders – first reference in print 1828); and the game is listed with other sports in the novel Northanger Abbey (1796). [source: The Book of General Ignorance; p.116]
Anyway, all the best, David and Victoria. And good luck finding a decent cup of tea…
David Beckham , soccer
I can’t remember the last time we successfully imported a sport to America. I’m guessing it might be baseball, which we all know is as American as apple pie – though, as you might suspect along with me, apples were surely baked in pies before the Americans did so. Baseball was invented in England. The first recorded description dates from 1744, in an English book reprinted in America in 1762; (incidentally, it does not derive from Rounders – first reference in print 1828); and the game is listed with other sports in the novel Northanger Abbey (1796). [source: The Book of General Ignorance; p.116]
Anyway, all the best, David and Victoria. And good luck finding a decent cup of tea…
David Beckham , soccer
Church || Human Sexuality || Purity
This is somewhat of an aside, but it just so happens that as I am reflecting on purity, the unhappy relationship between Church and homosexuality is in the news again: see here; and here, here, and here for other reflections.
One of the most heated debates within the western Church at present concerns homosexuality: should it be affirmed, or condemned, as orientation or as active lifestyle? It is a debate in which convictions run deep, and certain voices are vociferous; and I would suggest that I observe a lack of purity at both ends of the spectrum. These are, however, my own views; and in what I write here I do not claim to be speaking on behalf of my community.
There are those who maintain that the existence of a homosexual orientation is evidence that God has created individuals with this orientation, and that therefore it is good – and to be affirmed as such. The problem with this view is that it is poor theology: it recognises a theology of creation, but not a theology of brokenness within creation – and therefore a theology of a need for redemption. And it is hard to conceive how theology can remain Christian without these elements. Leaving aside the question of whether or not homosexuality is a form of brokenness, it is the refusal to accept that it might be a form of brokenness that evidences a lack of purity, because it creates a part of my identity that I will not allow to be challenged. Of those vocal in the cause of homosexuality within the Church, I have never heard any advocate admit to this as even a theoretical possibility (and the argument has become so entrenched that it would be almost impossible to do so). But if (homo)sexuality is out-of-bounds to the brokenness question, how might we determine what is and what is not out-of-bounds? For example, must we affirm the sexual orientation of paedophilia (and I’m speaking of the orientation here, so the question of consent in regards to the act is a distraction) as part of God’s diversity, or could it be evidence of creation broken? For example, is physical disability (not an orientation, but a fundamental part of some people’s composition) part of God’s diversity, or could it be evidence of creation broken? We could go on, asking other questions relating to the physical, emotional, psychological, sexual, or any other aspect of our nature. Of course, such questions get heated, because they concern real people, who have – but are not necessarily afforded – genuine worth; and it is easy, but mistaken, to confuse questioning a person’s fundamental makeup with calling into question their worth.
On the other hand, there are those who maintain that a homosexual lifestyle is an offence, unacceptable to God. Many who take this position will claim to “hate the sin, love the sinner.” In practice, my observation is of a profound lack of love for those considered sinners, which evidences a lack of purity. Whenever we oppose the extension of rights to homosexuals, giving them equality in law to heterosexuals, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we express our fear that the extension of such rights equates to an erosion of our rights as heterosexuals (and in particular, married heterosexuals), we demonstrate our lack of love (perfect love drives out fear). Whenever we speak ill of homosexual celebrities, or lament their profile, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we talk against “the way in which the nation is going” in the privacy of our own homes, or harangue our politicians and wave placards in public, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we remain silent in response to hearing homosexuality spoken of in derogatory terms, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we hold a double standard between the interpretation and enforcement of biblical texts that concern homosexuality and those that concern anything else; and whenever we consider homosexuality to be more serious than any of the sins we are willing to admit to being present in our own lives, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we think, say, or do anything that fosters an ‘us-and-them’ divide, we demonstrate our lack of love. And if we do not love, how can we claim to know God?
One of the things that most interests and convicts me about Jesus is how he relates to those whose lifestyle he does not condone. I don’t believe that Jesus approved of Zacchaeus’ financial extortion; but he first offends the crowd by choosing to stay at his house; and then rebukes the crowd for their attitude towards this excluded member of the community, and towards Jesus for his choice to identify with him. Jesus’ purity is not only not compromised by going out of his way to eat with “sinners” (that is, symbolically acting out a reversal of their exclusion from, into their inclusion within, God’s family), it is actually expressed in this way. And it would appear that Jesus’ acceptance evokes repentance, a commitment to change, in those who already know that some aspect of their lifestyle is wrong in the eyes of God. But to the self-righteous, Jesus’ approach is always fairly blunt, if not down right rude.
Homosexual and heterosexual alike are in need of repentance, and equally prone to self-righteousness; and God knows better than I do the ways in which I, or anyone else, needs to change. The current debate on human sexuality will be with us within the Church for some time. I hope and pray that, wherever we stand now and in whatever direction we might move, we might be more like Jesus in how we relate to those whose position we are unable to condone; and more open to having our own position called into question.
human sexuality , church , purity
One of the most heated debates within the western Church at present concerns homosexuality: should it be affirmed, or condemned, as orientation or as active lifestyle? It is a debate in which convictions run deep, and certain voices are vociferous; and I would suggest that I observe a lack of purity at both ends of the spectrum. These are, however, my own views; and in what I write here I do not claim to be speaking on behalf of my community.
There are those who maintain that the existence of a homosexual orientation is evidence that God has created individuals with this orientation, and that therefore it is good – and to be affirmed as such. The problem with this view is that it is poor theology: it recognises a theology of creation, but not a theology of brokenness within creation – and therefore a theology of a need for redemption. And it is hard to conceive how theology can remain Christian without these elements. Leaving aside the question of whether or not homosexuality is a form of brokenness, it is the refusal to accept that it might be a form of brokenness that evidences a lack of purity, because it creates a part of my identity that I will not allow to be challenged. Of those vocal in the cause of homosexuality within the Church, I have never heard any advocate admit to this as even a theoretical possibility (and the argument has become so entrenched that it would be almost impossible to do so). But if (homo)sexuality is out-of-bounds to the brokenness question, how might we determine what is and what is not out-of-bounds? For example, must we affirm the sexual orientation of paedophilia (and I’m speaking of the orientation here, so the question of consent in regards to the act is a distraction) as part of God’s diversity, or could it be evidence of creation broken? For example, is physical disability (not an orientation, but a fundamental part of some people’s composition) part of God’s diversity, or could it be evidence of creation broken? We could go on, asking other questions relating to the physical, emotional, psychological, sexual, or any other aspect of our nature. Of course, such questions get heated, because they concern real people, who have – but are not necessarily afforded – genuine worth; and it is easy, but mistaken, to confuse questioning a person’s fundamental makeup with calling into question their worth.
On the other hand, there are those who maintain that a homosexual lifestyle is an offence, unacceptable to God. Many who take this position will claim to “hate the sin, love the sinner.” In practice, my observation is of a profound lack of love for those considered sinners, which evidences a lack of purity. Whenever we oppose the extension of rights to homosexuals, giving them equality in law to heterosexuals, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we express our fear that the extension of such rights equates to an erosion of our rights as heterosexuals (and in particular, married heterosexuals), we demonstrate our lack of love (perfect love drives out fear). Whenever we speak ill of homosexual celebrities, or lament their profile, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we talk against “the way in which the nation is going” in the privacy of our own homes, or harangue our politicians and wave placards in public, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we remain silent in response to hearing homosexuality spoken of in derogatory terms, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we hold a double standard between the interpretation and enforcement of biblical texts that concern homosexuality and those that concern anything else; and whenever we consider homosexuality to be more serious than any of the sins we are willing to admit to being present in our own lives, we demonstrate our lack of love. Whenever we think, say, or do anything that fosters an ‘us-and-them’ divide, we demonstrate our lack of love. And if we do not love, how can we claim to know God?
One of the things that most interests and convicts me about Jesus is how he relates to those whose lifestyle he does not condone. I don’t believe that Jesus approved of Zacchaeus’ financial extortion; but he first offends the crowd by choosing to stay at his house; and then rebukes the crowd for their attitude towards this excluded member of the community, and towards Jesus for his choice to identify with him. Jesus’ purity is not only not compromised by going out of his way to eat with “sinners” (that is, symbolically acting out a reversal of their exclusion from, into their inclusion within, God’s family), it is actually expressed in this way. And it would appear that Jesus’ acceptance evokes repentance, a commitment to change, in those who already know that some aspect of their lifestyle is wrong in the eyes of God. But to the self-righteous, Jesus’ approach is always fairly blunt, if not down right rude.
Homosexual and heterosexual alike are in need of repentance, and equally prone to self-righteousness; and God knows better than I do the ways in which I, or anyone else, needs to change. The current debate on human sexuality will be with us within the Church for some time. I hope and pray that, wherever we stand now and in whatever direction we might move, we might be more like Jesus in how we relate to those whose position we are unable to condone; and more open to having our own position called into question.
human sexuality , church , purity
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Purity
The traditional vow of chastity taken by those who enter into religious orders is an expression of a commitment to purity and set-apart-ness that goes beyond sexual celibacy, but clearly includes it. As new-monastic communities may include married couples, chastity per se is not appropriate; but the commitment to purity and set-apart-ness remains.
I live in a tabloid society. In example of this, the latest series of Celebrity Big Brother has begun this week, and the gutter press are baying for sex. Now, I am very positive about sex; but that we should demand that strangers – to each other and to us – perform sexual acts in front of us for our entertainment is utterly depraved.
I honestly believe that my society revels in seeing good things debased; and yet, ironically, is repulsed by the results. The current epidemic of binge-drinking, with the resultant massive hangovers – not to mention long-term health implications – is not only an example, but also a short-hand, a symbol, for this dual condition. Such a society desperately needs an antidote.
But when it comes to purity, the Church has often found itself in a compromising position. Many of the neo monastic communities come out of, and/or remain within, evangelical and/or charismatic backgrounds. Evangelicalism has within itself a tendency towards* pharisaical obsession with purity laws, and judgement of those who fail to live up to them. Obsession can blur into fascination; fascination into flirtation; flirtation into consummation. Pentecostalism and the charismatic renewal movement have within themselves a tendency towards* addictive behaviour, as observed in the experiential highs of the ‘God fix’. Any high is followed by its low, with withdrawal symptoms that drive one on to seek the next high; and those who seek God highs are often vulnerable to filling the inevitable lows with other things that deliver a fix. Both traditions have been hurt by high-profile scandals, especially of either a sexual or a financial nature, among their leaders; and, of course, these traditions are not unique within the Church in this regard. In taking a vow of purity, within the context of community, we are saying, we need each other’s help to live this way.
Purity is not so much a matter of observing certain rules (Jesus was a notorious rule-breaker), as a motive in our relationships, and an interpretive criterion for the choices we make on a daily basis. As such, commitment to purity is complex, dynamic; not as black-and-white as it might first appear; yet, not relative either. Again, it requires community! It forces us to ask questions, especially of our motivations, that we might prefer not to ask. Purity looks like Jesus; and the desire to become/be pure is the desire to be transformed into his likeness. Purity gets its hands dirty, so that the dirty might have the opportunity to be made clean. Purity is offensive to those who believe themselves to be good, and infuriates such people with its freedom. Purity lands you in a whole heap of trouble. But I see a seeking after purity in many unexpected places, as expressed in opting out of the mainstream, in opting into ethical consumerism, in embracing outdoor pursuits, to name but a few examples. Purity is rough-and-ready, fierce, untameable. Far from withdrawing from life into anaemic religiosity, purity celebrates life with a passion – and draws the sedated and jaded into its party. That is the kind of purity I want to be characterised by. That is what we are set-apart for.
*By tendency towards, I do not mean that such behaviour is inevitable; but, unless a tendency is recognised and acknowledged, the one with that tendency is reasonably likely to come undone over it.
The Order of Mission , new monasticism , nu monasticism , purity
I live in a tabloid society. In example of this, the latest series of Celebrity Big Brother has begun this week, and the gutter press are baying for sex. Now, I am very positive about sex; but that we should demand that strangers – to each other and to us – perform sexual acts in front of us for our entertainment is utterly depraved.
I honestly believe that my society revels in seeing good things debased; and yet, ironically, is repulsed by the results. The current epidemic of binge-drinking, with the resultant massive hangovers – not to mention long-term health implications – is not only an example, but also a short-hand, a symbol, for this dual condition. Such a society desperately needs an antidote.
But when it comes to purity, the Church has often found itself in a compromising position. Many of the neo monastic communities come out of, and/or remain within, evangelical and/or charismatic backgrounds. Evangelicalism has within itself a tendency towards* pharisaical obsession with purity laws, and judgement of those who fail to live up to them. Obsession can blur into fascination; fascination into flirtation; flirtation into consummation. Pentecostalism and the charismatic renewal movement have within themselves a tendency towards* addictive behaviour, as observed in the experiential highs of the ‘God fix’. Any high is followed by its low, with withdrawal symptoms that drive one on to seek the next high; and those who seek God highs are often vulnerable to filling the inevitable lows with other things that deliver a fix. Both traditions have been hurt by high-profile scandals, especially of either a sexual or a financial nature, among their leaders; and, of course, these traditions are not unique within the Church in this regard. In taking a vow of purity, within the context of community, we are saying, we need each other’s help to live this way.
Purity is not so much a matter of observing certain rules (Jesus was a notorious rule-breaker), as a motive in our relationships, and an interpretive criterion for the choices we make on a daily basis. As such, commitment to purity is complex, dynamic; not as black-and-white as it might first appear; yet, not relative either. Again, it requires community! It forces us to ask questions, especially of our motivations, that we might prefer not to ask. Purity looks like Jesus; and the desire to become/be pure is the desire to be transformed into his likeness. Purity gets its hands dirty, so that the dirty might have the opportunity to be made clean. Purity is offensive to those who believe themselves to be good, and infuriates such people with its freedom. Purity lands you in a whole heap of trouble. But I see a seeking after purity in many unexpected places, as expressed in opting out of the mainstream, in opting into ethical consumerism, in embracing outdoor pursuits, to name but a few examples. Purity is rough-and-ready, fierce, untameable. Far from withdrawing from life into anaemic religiosity, purity celebrates life with a passion – and draws the sedated and jaded into its party. That is the kind of purity I want to be characterised by. That is what we are set-apart for.
*By tendency towards, I do not mean that such behaviour is inevitable; but, unless a tendency is recognised and acknowledged, the one with that tendency is reasonably likely to come undone over it.
The Order of Mission , new monasticism , nu monasticism , purity
Friday, January 05, 2007
Simplicity
The vow of poverty lays aside the right to ownership of personal property. It arose as a counter-cultural response to the opulence of the Catholic Church. One of the differences between the current new-monastic revival and traditional religious orders is that the new-monastic communities are open to married couples and families. Renouncing property is not exactly practical when you have kids. But, more significant than practicalities, our context is very different. Where then the Church was trapped in material opulence, the traditions out of which new-monastic communities are arising are often trapped in a false division between spiritual things (‘important’; ‘good’) and material things (‘unimportant’; ‘bad’); have a tendency to devalue the material – and thus the Creator. At the same time, the wider society around us is held captive by the pursuit of possessions. Re-articulating ‘poverty’ as ‘simplicity’ expresses an intent to live counter-culturally to both the western Church and western society, by allowing us to affirm material possessions while asking our community to help us to hold such possessions lightly, rather than be held captive by them.
But re-articulating ‘poverty’ as ‘simplicity’ takes us beyond how we relate to our possessions, to the whole of our life. We live in a culture that is increasingly complicated; a culture where we are told that we can have everything, if we only juggle everything right; and, again, we want to live a counter-cultural lifestyle.
So, for example, for us (as a couple; other members of the Order may interpret things differently) one way in which simplicity is worked out in practice is in our decision to send our children to the local school, wherever we may live, and to trust God for them; rather than do the standard middle-class thing of trying to get our children into ‘better’ out-of-catchment schools, or try to buy a house beyond our means in a ‘better’ catchment area. That is not to pass judgement on anyone who does that (many things in life are not necessarily universally ‘right’ or ‘wrong); just to say, that isn’t living simply.
Simplicity becomes an acid test for decisions, big and small. Will [this] be lightweight, or will it make our lives more complicated? Will we be able to move on easily, if God calls us to do so; or will [it] tie us down? On the other hand, will [this] help us get involved in the place God has put us, or keep our focus elsewhere? Do we have anything that someone else needs? What can we give away?
The Order of Mission , new monasticism , nu monasticism , simplicity
But re-articulating ‘poverty’ as ‘simplicity’ takes us beyond how we relate to our possessions, to the whole of our life. We live in a culture that is increasingly complicated; a culture where we are told that we can have everything, if we only juggle everything right; and, again, we want to live a counter-cultural lifestyle.
So, for example, for us (as a couple; other members of the Order may interpret things differently) one way in which simplicity is worked out in practice is in our decision to send our children to the local school, wherever we may live, and to trust God for them; rather than do the standard middle-class thing of trying to get our children into ‘better’ out-of-catchment schools, or try to buy a house beyond our means in a ‘better’ catchment area. That is not to pass judgement on anyone who does that (many things in life are not necessarily universally ‘right’ or ‘wrong); just to say, that isn’t living simply.
Simplicity becomes an acid test for decisions, big and small. Will [this] be lightweight, or will it make our lives more complicated? Will we be able to move on easily, if God calls us to do so; or will [it] tie us down? On the other hand, will [this] help us get involved in the place God has put us, or keep our focus elsewhere? Do we have anything that someone else needs? What can we give away?
The Order of Mission , new monasticism , nu monasticism , simplicity
Vows
A week on Saturday, we will be making our vows as permanent members of The Order of Mission, vows we deferred back in June.
Someone asked me recently what taking vows is about: aren’t they somewhat arcane? Vows are a public declaration of an intention to live in a particular way, and usually within a relational context. Many Christian traditions make baptismal/confirmation vows, marking the intent to turn from living in a certain way – in rebellion against God – and live instead in another way – in relationship with God. Almost all Christian traditions make marriage vows, marking the intent to turn from living in a certain way – as a single person – and live instead in another way – in relationship with a husband or wife. Vows are not self-imposed rules to be adhered to, but interpretive keys to help us live in a way we have chosen.
The vows we will make a week on Saturday are to live as members of a community whose lifestyle is characterised by simplicity, purity, and accountability. These three aspects draw on the traditional vows of religious orders, of poverty, chastity and obedience; but re-articulate them for our twenty-first century context. I thought I’d take time to reflect on each of these in turn.
The Order of Mission , neo monasticism , nu monasticism , vows
Someone asked me recently what taking vows is about: aren’t they somewhat arcane? Vows are a public declaration of an intention to live in a particular way, and usually within a relational context. Many Christian traditions make baptismal/confirmation vows, marking the intent to turn from living in a certain way – in rebellion against God – and live instead in another way – in relationship with God. Almost all Christian traditions make marriage vows, marking the intent to turn from living in a certain way – as a single person – and live instead in another way – in relationship with a husband or wife. Vows are not self-imposed rules to be adhered to, but interpretive keys to help us live in a way we have chosen.
The vows we will make a week on Saturday are to live as members of a community whose lifestyle is characterised by simplicity, purity, and accountability. These three aspects draw on the traditional vows of religious orders, of poverty, chastity and obedience; but re-articulate them for our twenty-first century context. I thought I’d take time to reflect on each of these in turn.
The Order of Mission , neo monasticism , nu monasticism , vows
Thursday, January 04, 2007
New Blogger
I can't enter text using Flock, or see text entered and saved as draft using IE.
I can't upload photos using IE.
Hurrah.
I can't upload photos using IE.
Hurrah.
Real Writing
I’ve been asked to do some writing for someone else again. Which in a way is good, because it suggests that there are people who think I can write well…but it is also a nightmare. I feel like I am, quite unintentionally, a fraud. I blog, sometimes deeply, sometimes at length, and as a result some people come to the conclusion that I must think about what I write. But I don’t think about what I write at all; I just write about what I feel, what I intuitively understand. It may often be nonsense; most of it probably doesn’t stand up to cross-examination: I don’t really intend it to. I write about what I feel right now; but when I’m asked to write about something else – given a topic – I feel that I need to give that topic some thought, to write something that might just be defendable. Which is a kind of death to me as a writer. Damn.
writers block , procrastination
writers block , procrastination
In Desert Places
“I’ve been asked to lead a small community, but I lack the confidence to do it – there are others in the group who have all kinds of experience that I don’t have. And my life isn’t at all stable at present. I feel lost. Is it even possible to lead other people, when you are in such a place?”
That, in essence, was the issue brought to me by someone earlier this week. I think the question-bringer expected me to agree that the timing wasn’t right, that they needed to work through x and y and z before they could lead others with skill, or even integrity. Perhaps they even hoped that I would. I didn’t.
I started by suggesting that the question to ask was: What has God already given to me that he wants the group to receive?
We spoke of the boy with his loaves and fishes, used by Jesus to feed a multitude. There would have been all kinds of things that the adults in that crowd had, or had experience of, that the boy lacked – but that was beside the point. What mattered at that moment was what the crowd lacked, and needed: food, the one thing that the boy had…
Then I touched on stability. We can be in a great place with God when our lives are stable; or, we can operate in our own strength. Stability is neither good nor bad; it’s how we engage with it that matters. Likewise the uncertain place, the lost place, the wilderness: it can be confusing, even frightening; or, it can be an adventure.
We returned to the question, what has God given me to share with others? And I observed that that very thing needed to be broken before it can be shared. The little boy’s loaves and fish might well have fed five; once God had broken them, they fed five thousand.
Which brought us back to the wilderness, for the wilderness is where God takes us, and blesses us [there is blessing, even in the wilderness, if we have eyes to see it], and breaks us, so that what he has given us can be given to others. So, for example:
God gave Joseph the ability to be a visionary, an ability that would take him to the place where he coordinated the aid distribution for a shattered sub-continent; but before that could happen there was the breaking that took place in slavery and prison…
God gave Moses a passion for social justice, a passion that would result in the emancipation from slavery of his whole people-group; but before that could happen there was the breaking of forty years spent herding sheep…
God gave David a song to sing, that would result in a body of work still listened to [and covered] three thousand years later; but first there was thirteen years as an outlaw, the leader of a band of outlaws, living in caves…
God gave Jesus the ability to build housing stock among a Galilean population swelled by incoming Gentiles from the north and Jewish re-settlers from the south, an ability that would be fulfilled in building a kingdom on earth and heavenly rooms for Jews and Gentiles alike; but first, forty days of solitude and fasting in the Judean wilderness…
God gave Paul a brilliant mind only matched by a stomach for life on the road, a combination that would set the known world on fire; but only after three days of blindness and fourteen years sat in a cave in the Syrian desert…
Is it possible to lead others while you are yourself in the wilderness? Well, Joseph held positions of leadership both as a slave and a prisoner; and David led his Mighty Men who followed him into the wilderness. So, it is possible; and, if we are honest to ourselves and open to others about the wilderness we are in, it can even be done well. On the other hand, looking at Moses and Jesus and Paul [and I could choose many other examples…], I’m not sure it is possible to lead others well until you have spent time in the wilderness…
And so I was asked one final question:
“Do I have to know what it is that I have, that needs to be broken, before I can lead; or do I find it out in the leading?”
To which I replied, we discover what it is that we have and needs to be broken as we step out in faith, not before. Otherwise, we’d never move on in the journey God wants to take us on.
Which all leaves me asking myself, what has God given me…?
missional church leadership , spiritual wilderness
That, in essence, was the issue brought to me by someone earlier this week. I think the question-bringer expected me to agree that the timing wasn’t right, that they needed to work through x and y and z before they could lead others with skill, or even integrity. Perhaps they even hoped that I would. I didn’t.
I started by suggesting that the question to ask was: What has God already given to me that he wants the group to receive?
We spoke of the boy with his loaves and fishes, used by Jesus to feed a multitude. There would have been all kinds of things that the adults in that crowd had, or had experience of, that the boy lacked – but that was beside the point. What mattered at that moment was what the crowd lacked, and needed: food, the one thing that the boy had…
Then I touched on stability. We can be in a great place with God when our lives are stable; or, we can operate in our own strength. Stability is neither good nor bad; it’s how we engage with it that matters. Likewise the uncertain place, the lost place, the wilderness: it can be confusing, even frightening; or, it can be an adventure.
We returned to the question, what has God given me to share with others? And I observed that that very thing needed to be broken before it can be shared. The little boy’s loaves and fish might well have fed five; once God had broken them, they fed five thousand.
Which brought us back to the wilderness, for the wilderness is where God takes us, and blesses us [there is blessing, even in the wilderness, if we have eyes to see it], and breaks us, so that what he has given us can be given to others. So, for example:
God gave Joseph the ability to be a visionary, an ability that would take him to the place where he coordinated the aid distribution for a shattered sub-continent; but before that could happen there was the breaking that took place in slavery and prison…
God gave Moses a passion for social justice, a passion that would result in the emancipation from slavery of his whole people-group; but before that could happen there was the breaking of forty years spent herding sheep…
God gave David a song to sing, that would result in a body of work still listened to [and covered] three thousand years later; but first there was thirteen years as an outlaw, the leader of a band of outlaws, living in caves…
God gave Jesus the ability to build housing stock among a Galilean population swelled by incoming Gentiles from the north and Jewish re-settlers from the south, an ability that would be fulfilled in building a kingdom on earth and heavenly rooms for Jews and Gentiles alike; but first, forty days of solitude and fasting in the Judean wilderness…
God gave Paul a brilliant mind only matched by a stomach for life on the road, a combination that would set the known world on fire; but only after three days of blindness and fourteen years sat in a cave in the Syrian desert…
Is it possible to lead others while you are yourself in the wilderness? Well, Joseph held positions of leadership both as a slave and a prisoner; and David led his Mighty Men who followed him into the wilderness. So, it is possible; and, if we are honest to ourselves and open to others about the wilderness we are in, it can even be done well. On the other hand, looking at Moses and Jesus and Paul [and I could choose many other examples…], I’m not sure it is possible to lead others well until you have spent time in the wilderness…
And so I was asked one final question:
“Do I have to know what it is that I have, that needs to be broken, before I can lead; or do I find it out in the leading?”
To which I replied, we discover what it is that we have and needs to be broken as we step out in faith, not before. Otherwise, we’d never move on in the journey God wants to take us on.
Which all leaves me asking myself, what has God given me…?
missional church leadership , spiritual wilderness
Monday, January 01, 2007
Christmas Recipe
This Christmastide we have made
time for being with family, and time for being with friends;
time for being the visitors, and time for being the hosts;
time for feasting at tables, and time for going for walks in the countryside;
time to be with others, and time to be on our own;
time for playing games together, and very little time for watching TV;
time for looking back over the year
that has just ended,
and time for looking forward into the year
that has just begun;
time to say sorry, and time to say thank you,
to each other, to others, to God.
It has been a good Christmas, so far. Overall, I think that we have got the balance about right this year. The one thing we could have done better was a little less filled-time and a little more down-time. A little more sleep, all round. That’s been hard to come by, what with the excitement of sleepovers, combined with the discomfort of sleeping on floors, and the higher-than-usual amount of sugar coursing through veins…
time for being with family, and time for being with friends;
time for being the visitors, and time for being the hosts;
time for feasting at tables, and time for going for walks in the countryside;
time to be with others, and time to be on our own;
time for playing games together, and very little time for watching TV;
time for looking back over the year
that has just ended,
and time for looking forward into the year
that has just begun;
time to say sorry, and time to say thank you,
to each other, to others, to God.
It has been a good Christmas, so far. Overall, I think that we have got the balance about right this year. The one thing we could have done better was a little less filled-time and a little more down-time. A little more sleep, all round. That’s been hard to come by, what with the excitement of sleepovers, combined with the discomfort of sleeping on floors, and the higher-than-usual amount of sugar coursing through veins…
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Advent 22
“Good news!” said the angel, “You shall have a son.”
“How can that be?” replied Zechariah, with bitterness. “My wife is years beyond the menopause.”
“Good news!” said the angel, “You shall have a son.”
“How can that be?” responded Mary, with wonder. “I have never had sex, not with anyone, not even my fiancé.”
Spirit of Jesus,
come to those whose hope in you
has been snuffed-out
by the disappointments of past experience;
trim the wick of their lives,
and re-ignite the flame of faith;
that they may shine again in the darkness.
Spirit of Jesus,
come to those whose hope in you
burns brightly
as a freshly-lit candle;
shelter them from the chill drafts of doubt,
that they may burn through the dark night
and so bring light and life to others.
Amen
Advent
“How can that be?” replied Zechariah, with bitterness. “My wife is years beyond the menopause.”
“Good news!” said the angel, “You shall have a son.”
“How can that be?” responded Mary, with wonder. “I have never had sex, not with anyone, not even my fiancé.”
Spirit of Jesus,
come to those whose hope in you
has been snuffed-out
by the disappointments of past experience;
trim the wick of their lives,
and re-ignite the flame of faith;
that they may shine again in the darkness.
Spirit of Jesus,
come to those whose hope in you
burns brightly
as a freshly-lit candle;
shelter them from the chill drafts of doubt,
that they may burn through the dark night
and so bring light and life to others.
Amen
Advent
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Advent 21
Christmas:
the Christ Mass.
At the very heart of our celebration of Jesus’ birth,
the tokens of his death.
“Take and eat; this is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me…
…Drink, all of you. This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”
(taken from Matthew 26:26-28 and Luke 22:19-20)
Come close.
Behold the Bread of Life,
as yet not weaned onto solid food;
Behold the Lamb of God,
as yet honoured only by rough shepherds.
Come close.
Behold.
Adore.
Advent
the Christ Mass.
At the very heart of our celebration of Jesus’ birth,
the tokens of his death.
“Take and eat; this is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me…
…Drink, all of you. This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”
(taken from Matthew 26:26-28 and Luke 22:19-20)
Come close.
Behold the Bread of Life,
as yet not weaned onto solid food;
Behold the Lamb of God,
as yet honoured only by rough shepherds.
Come close.
Behold.
Adore.
Advent
Friday, December 22, 2006
Advent 20
Today is the shortest day of the year, here in my beautiful northern hemisphere. I took this photo yesterday as we walked through local ancient woodland; the low December sun in our eyes for most of the circuit, making everything a silhouette; the shafts of light and bars of dark making it hard to see among the trees…reminding me that in this world, where God’s light throws our darkness into stark relief, we have to walk by faith and not by sight.
Under the nose of the Roman
Empire,
Under the nose of the court in
Jerusalem,
Under the nose of the Prince of
this World,
God snuck in
Under cover of darkness.
[And did the Christ-child know,
or care, of
Emperor, and King, and Prince?
Not in the slightest!]
Under the nose of military
supremacy,
Under the nose of the celebrity
circus,
Under the nose of that in which our world
puts hope and trust,
God sneaks in
Under cover of darkness.
[Still unimpressed by
Politics and Pleasure;
giving himself instead to
overlooked and unimportant people.]
Advent
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Advent 19
Sometimes, when they are asleep, babies breathe such shallow breaths that their parents have to lean in right over them and watch and wait to see their chest rise and fall, just to reassure themselves that the child lives. Not necessarily out of panic that something has gone wrong, but just as likely out of head-shaking wonder…
That the breath that, one cold night, exhaled the stars should dare to draw so small is breath-taking to me.
Advent
That the breath that, one cold night, exhaled the stars should dare to draw so small is breath-taking to me.
Advent
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Advent 18
They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
(Matthew 2:11, New Living Translation)
…Freely you have received, freely give.
(Matthew 10:8, New International Version)
The other day I was talking with some parents from school, after the Christmas Concert. The subject of Christmas presents came up; and the group agreed that it was hard to know what to get, given that none of us actually need anything, and those things we want we just buy for ourselves. And yet there was a feeling that Christmas ought to be marked by the giving of gifts, because giving, and receiving something that we have not chosen – and might not choose! – ourselves was somehow important.
I think it is important because it debunks the myth of self-sufficiency.
The three gifts of the Magi – gold; frankincense; myrrh – have long been considered to speak with prophetic symbolism to the unique personhood of the Christ: as king; and priest; and sacrifice. But what do these gifts reveal of the giver, and are they somehow archetypal as the kind of gifts all Christ-seekers should give?
The gift of ‘gold’ says, “I will share my wealth” – my material resources – “with you.” Not just at Christmastime, but throughout the year to come.
The gift of ‘frankincense’ says, “I will pray for you” – and, if appropriate, with you. Not just at Christmastime, but throughout the year to come.
The gift of ‘myrrh’ says, “I will lay down my life for you” – will put you before me, though it costs me what I would otherwise do with my time, my aspirations, my ambitions. Not just at Christmastime, but throughout the year to come.
Might we give such gifts?
What might such gifts be?
Whom might we give such gifts to?
Advent
(Matthew 2:11, New Living Translation)
…Freely you have received, freely give.
(Matthew 10:8, New International Version)
The other day I was talking with some parents from school, after the Christmas Concert. The subject of Christmas presents came up; and the group agreed that it was hard to know what to get, given that none of us actually need anything, and those things we want we just buy for ourselves. And yet there was a feeling that Christmas ought to be marked by the giving of gifts, because giving, and receiving something that we have not chosen – and might not choose! – ourselves was somehow important.
I think it is important because it debunks the myth of self-sufficiency.
The three gifts of the Magi – gold; frankincense; myrrh – have long been considered to speak with prophetic symbolism to the unique personhood of the Christ: as king; and priest; and sacrifice. But what do these gifts reveal of the giver, and are they somehow archetypal as the kind of gifts all Christ-seekers should give?
The gift of ‘gold’ says, “I will share my wealth” – my material resources – “with you.” Not just at Christmastime, but throughout the year to come.
The gift of ‘frankincense’ says, “I will pray for you” – and, if appropriate, with you. Not just at Christmastime, but throughout the year to come.
The gift of ‘myrrh’ says, “I will lay down my life for you” – will put you before me, though it costs me what I would otherwise do with my time, my aspirations, my ambitions. Not just at Christmastime, but throughout the year to come.
Might we give such gifts?
What might such gifts be?
Whom might we give such gifts to?
Advent
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Advent 17
I wrote these words two years ago today. I love blogging as a form of writing, and it builds up a library of work. But the temptation is just to read the immediate, the now. I hope that those of you who have appreciated my Advent thoughts this year will accept something older today. Advent has a long-term grip on my imagination…
Advent
Advent
Monday, December 18, 2006
Advent 16
Last night we watched Born Equal, a moving BBC drama exploring homelessness. It was beautifully filmed; and the acting was exceptional – all the more powerful for the dialogue being completely unscripted. But the ending was utterly hope-less. The storyline conveyed well the message, “Don’t get involved with homeless people out of a sense of guilt, or some romantic notion of transforming their lives; don’t be naïve about the complexity of the issue.” But in avoiding a simplistic ending, with all ends neatly tied up, the viewer could be forgiven for thinking, “Well, what can be done? Nothing; so why get involved at all? Getting involved, even for the best of motives, might well make things worse – for everyone. And the potential cost to me, to my family, is just too high…”
It made me think of Jesus’ birth; not as some traditional folk story played out by cutesy little children in front of their proud parents, but as something that resonates with the real experience of real people today. If Jesus were born in 2006, the Holy Family may well have been sheltering under a blanket in some underpass; in place of a star, fluorescent light; in place of shepherds, a gang of drunks to kick their heads in; in place of angels, passers-by tossing them their spare change…
If God identifies with the homeless…
And then, this morning, as I walked across to the Post Office, I met a man in some distress; a man whose skin was mottled with red blotches, the whites of whose eyes were orange; an alcoholic; a former chef; dependent on Housing services to pay his rent, and owed £400 by them; the one thing he had to look forward to being going into hospital on January 2nd, in hope of being sent to rehab. He’d been in rehab twice before, but this time he knew that it would work for him. It had to; if not, he had two years to live. Even as he spoke, I knew that he didn’t believe it would work for him, any more than I did.
Not on the TV now.
All I could do was extend the dignity of listening to his story; of giving him my time, not passing by on the other side of the road, making a detour to avoid him. And pray for him. That’s all.
Being honest, I felt pretty hope-less too. But may be, just perhaps, some hope was sparked, as I stood and listened…If so, I pray that those who meet him later through the day would fan that hope a little more; not snuff it out.
Advent
It made me think of Jesus’ birth; not as some traditional folk story played out by cutesy little children in front of their proud parents, but as something that resonates with the real experience of real people today. If Jesus were born in 2006, the Holy Family may well have been sheltering under a blanket in some underpass; in place of a star, fluorescent light; in place of shepherds, a gang of drunks to kick their heads in; in place of angels, passers-by tossing them their spare change…
If God identifies with the homeless…
And then, this morning, as I walked across to the Post Office, I met a man in some distress; a man whose skin was mottled with red blotches, the whites of whose eyes were orange; an alcoholic; a former chef; dependent on Housing services to pay his rent, and owed £400 by them; the one thing he had to look forward to being going into hospital on January 2nd, in hope of being sent to rehab. He’d been in rehab twice before, but this time he knew that it would work for him. It had to; if not, he had two years to live. Even as he spoke, I knew that he didn’t believe it would work for him, any more than I did.
Not on the TV now.
All I could do was extend the dignity of listening to his story; of giving him my time, not passing by on the other side of the road, making a detour to avoid him. And pray for him. That’s all.
Being honest, I felt pretty hope-less too. But may be, just perhaps, some hope was sparked, as I stood and listened…If so, I pray that those who meet him later through the day would fan that hope a little more; not snuff it out.
Advent
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Advent 15
Once in royal David’s city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby
In a manger for His bed:
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little child.
He came down to earth from heaven,
Who is God and Lord of all,
And His shelter was a stable,
And His cradle was a stall;
With the poor, and mean, and lowly,
Lived on earth our Saviour Holy.
And through all His wondrous childhood
He would honour and obey,
Love and watch the lowly Maiden,
In whose gentle arms He lay:
Christian children all must be
Mild, obedient, good as He.
For He is our childhood’s pattern;
Day by day, like us He grew;
He was little, weak and helpless,
Tears and smiles like us He knew;
And He feeleth for our sadness,
And He shareth in our gladness.
And our eyes at last shall see Him,
Through His own redeeming love;
For that Child so dear and gentle
Is our Lord in heaven above,
And He leads His children on
To the place where He is gone.
Not in that poor lowly stable,
With the oxen standing by,
We shall see Him; but in heaven,
Set at God’s right hand on high;
When like stars His children crowned
All in white shall wait around.
(words by C.F.H. Alexander; set to music by H.J. Gauntlett)
Advent
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Advent 12
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.
Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
(John 1:1-14, New International Version)
One of the things that I love about being British is that we come from pretty much everywhere else.
Take, for example, the Netherlands. There is a long history of immigration from Holland to England: Dutch merchants, entrepreneurs of manufacturing and industry, the drainage engineers who reclaimed the Fens from the sea, and even monarchy…a tidal stream of people crossing the North Sea, fanning out far and wide, but concentrating in East Anglia, whose sub-marine fields and wide open skies reminded them of whence they had come. And swept along in the stream, a Gogh, who came, and settled in Norfolk; had children and grandchildren who were born, married, died, and somewhere down the line Anglicised the family name to Gooch; and on, until the name is currently borne by my good friends and close neighbours Brian and Amanda…
God moved into the neighbourhood. And though, like most incomers, he experienced the xenophobia of the established community, he decided to stay. To establish a family. To become embedded in the community, enhancing it, influencing its evolution.
Advent
Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
(John 1:1-14, New International Version)
One of the things that I love about being British is that we come from pretty much everywhere else.
Take, for example, the Netherlands. There is a long history of immigration from Holland to England: Dutch merchants, entrepreneurs of manufacturing and industry, the drainage engineers who reclaimed the Fens from the sea, and even monarchy…a tidal stream of people crossing the North Sea, fanning out far and wide, but concentrating in East Anglia, whose sub-marine fields and wide open skies reminded them of whence they had come. And swept along in the stream, a Gogh, who came, and settled in Norfolk; had children and grandchildren who were born, married, died, and somewhere down the line Anglicised the family name to Gooch; and on, until the name is currently borne by my good friends and close neighbours Brian and Amanda…
God moved into the neighbourhood. And though, like most incomers, he experienced the xenophobia of the established community, he decided to stay. To establish a family. To become embedded in the community, enhancing it, influencing its evolution.
Advent
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Advent 11
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.”
…
After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh.
(Matthew 2:1-2…9-11, New International Version)
I love the Magi.
According to tradition, one came from Russia, one came from Africa, and one came from I-don’t-recall-where…I’m not sure how they got together. I guess they had come across each other’s blogs – perhaps because they’d each Technorati-tagged their posts ‘Magi’ – and ended up talking via conference-call on Skype. Who’s to say?
The Magi were originally the priestly tribe within the Median Empire, which unified with the Persian Empire, which swallowed the Babylonian Empire…All this empire-jostling (including the Jewish Exiles to Assyria and Babylon, and the return to Jerusalem following the Persian conquest of Babylon) resulted in Jewish priests and Zoroastrian priests being aware of and influencing each other’s thoughts…By the time of Jesus, it is likely that the Magi had lost all of their earlier socio-political influence, but still passed down their traditions…So, they’d be into interpreting the divine messages of the night sky and have enough time on their hands to go off following stars on open-ended journeys…
The Magi are, in a quite literal sense, Christ-seekers, Christ-followers. And yet there is no evidence to suggest that they ‘converted.’ Christmas – perhaps awkwardly for the Church and Secular Atheists in equal measure – is not just for Christians, or those considering converting to Christianity…
Advent
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Advent 10
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
(Isaiah 9:6, New International Version)
Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others—the armies of heaven—praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in highest heaven,
and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.”
(Luke 2:12-14, New Living Translation)
One of the Christmas names of Jesus is Prince of Peace.
Peace is an alien, and widely misunderstood, word to the society I live in.
Peace is not a thesaurus alternative to quiet. What with a stable/barn/cave stuffed with sheltering cattle/goats/sheep; a newborn emptying his lungs through his vocal chords; shepherds running through the town, banging on the windows, rapping at the locks; and a mass choir of yodelling angels disturbing the peace; there’s not much Silent to the natal Night. The Prince of Peace does not come so that we might collapse in a heap in our armchair having closed the door on the last relatives to overstay their welcome.
Peace does not refer (primarily) to an absence of military occupation, or State of War. What with Roman legionaries invigilating the registration of the populace for the purpose of extorting taxation without representation; and an insane client-dictator ordering genocide; there’s no peace for the wicked and the righteous alike at first Christmas. The Prince of Peace sways a sceptre, not a magic wand, in his hand.
Peace is a gift that descends to us from heaven;
that does not pluck us out of the chaotic jumble,
but plucks the chaotic jumble out of us;
with the result that we can live
free from stress and striving, worry and fear,
here on earth.
Wishing you peace this Christmas.
with love,
x
Advent
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
(Isaiah 9:6, New International Version)
Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others—the armies of heaven—praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in highest heaven,
and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.”
(Luke 2:12-14, New Living Translation)
One of the Christmas names of Jesus is Prince of Peace.
Peace is an alien, and widely misunderstood, word to the society I live in.
Peace is not a thesaurus alternative to quiet. What with a stable/barn/cave stuffed with sheltering cattle/goats/sheep; a newborn emptying his lungs through his vocal chords; shepherds running through the town, banging on the windows, rapping at the locks; and a mass choir of yodelling angels disturbing the peace; there’s not much Silent to the natal Night. The Prince of Peace does not come so that we might collapse in a heap in our armchair having closed the door on the last relatives to overstay their welcome.
Peace does not refer (primarily) to an absence of military occupation, or State of War. What with Roman legionaries invigilating the registration of the populace for the purpose of extorting taxation without representation; and an insane client-dictator ordering genocide; there’s no peace for the wicked and the righteous alike at first Christmas. The Prince of Peace sways a sceptre, not a magic wand, in his hand.
Peace is a gift that descends to us from heaven;
that does not pluck us out of the chaotic jumble,
but plucks the chaotic jumble out of us;
with the result that we can live
free from stress and striving, worry and fear,
here on earth.
Wishing you peace this Christmas.
with love,
x
Advent
Monday, December 11, 2006
Advent 9
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.”
When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Christ was to be born. “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written:
“ ‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you will come a ruler
who will be the shepherd of my people Israel.’ ”
Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.”
After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.
When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”
When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
“A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”
(Matthew 2:1-18, New International Version)
Herod was a puppet-king, installed in Jerusalem by the Roman Senate. But he preferred not to draw attention to that, at least in public, taking for himself the title The Great.
The scandal of the Christmas Story – the claim that we owe fealty to one Other than ourselves; that we are in need of a rescuer; in short, the very relationship to Rome Herod pretended to ignore – still disturbs the city-living classes today. Recent years have seen a marked increase in campaigning by extremist secularists to remove [Christ]mas from the civic calendar in this country. And yet, for all their bluster, the claim to self-determination and self-sufficiency rings as hollow now as it did then…
Advent
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)