This article on the BBC news website made me think about people's perceptions of the Bible, and of the church in general. What interested me most was that the author seemed to assume that Christians would be against the Bible being presented in unusual ways. Yet again someone has failed to grasp that it's not the manner something is presented in that matters, but the message contained in that presentation. The media like reporting on Christians disagreeing with each other, or condemning what other people are doing. Sadly we give them a lot of scope for that.
The Bible is not a nice book. There are plenty of bits we'd all rather gloss over. Here's some examples:
"Their infants will be dashed to pieces before their eyes; their houses will be looted and their wives ravished."
"They will fall by the sword; their little ones will be dashed to the ground, their pregnant women ripped open."
The Bible and its interpretation cause Christians to disagree with each other more than almost anything else (as is demonstrated by some of the comments on the article). But as the guy from the Bible Society comments in the article, the idea of the Bible as a big book with small print has only been around for four centuries or so. Before that highly decorated manuscripts were the norm, for example the York Gospels which can be seen here. Having been lucky enough to see the manuscript in real life (a history degree is useful for something!) I can safely say it's a real work of art and a thing of beauty. Before that, the texts were written on scrolls in the same way Jewish holy texts still are.
During the Reformation, one of the main aims of the reformers was to make the Bible text accessible to everyone . So as well as translating it from Latin into commonly spoken languages such as English and German, the text was printed in as small (and therefore cheap) a format as possible, allowing ordinary people to afford one. Thousands of people were able to read it for themselves (assuming, of course, they were able to read at all) and judge for themselves the truth (or otherwise) of what they read. The examples given in the article of different ways of presenting the Bible's message (such as this, although I'm not sure that "your beliefs are silly" or "he says we are to be judged by a zombie" are the most tactful way of explaining the gospel!) at least help to counter the claim that "the Bible isn't relevant today."
But all the modern translations and presentations are no good unless people think about what they read (or see in pictures, or hear on their ipods). Which is why an organisation I'm part of, Scripture Union, launched its WordLive website last year to get people reading the Bible, thinking about it in a way that's relevant to them, and applying what they read to their own lives.
This is a book that has shaped our culture, influenced our history and had an effect on countless lives. If you're not familiar with it, I'd suggest taking a look- whether it's on the web, in bricks, in pictures or cartoons, or even- to be controvertial- in print.
Thursday 27 November 2008
Wednesday 19 November 2008
Masquerade!
What makes you who you truly are?
I was reading Maskerade (as in the Discworld novel) the other day. The book draws on The Phantom of the Opera for aspects of it's plot. Both include a Ghost who wears a mask to change himself- in one case because of a disfiguring scar, in the other it gives him a totally different personality, with much more confidence and ability.
As well as concluding that I'm the character Agnes (cursed with a nice personality and an ability to keep her head, while others panic, faint gracefully and grab the limelight; however sadly I don't have the ability to sing in harmony with myself!)- shame that witching as a career is out of the question!- the book lead me to think about masks.
Some people construct themselves a mask to hide their true feelings, to protect themselves. I know some people like that. Maybe it's because they don't like who they are, or are afraid of what people will think of them. They want to be more popular, to appear more confident. They present a face to the world that is tougher, more witty, more worldly than they themselves are. They hide their true feelings, the hurts they suffer, the disappointments, the secret ambitions and desires, and present to the world what they think other people will want to see.
But the trouble with masks is that they slip. And they don't change what's going on inside. Maybe it can help, for a while or in certain circumstances. But I want to be who I am, to become even more so, to be the person God designed me to be. And hiding behind a mask I've constructed can't do that. I can't make myself someone else entirely (and I wouldn't want to anyway), and trying to become someone else means you loose something that makes you you. And that's a precious thing. Each of us is unique, reflecting (I believe) an aspect of God. So if we're continually trying to be someone else (the latest celebrity or hero from a film, book or history) we're not going to be happy. We can only do that by learning to be happy with ourselves, and with who we are in relation to God.
The word hypocrite apparently means "someone who has decided to act or speak under a false part – to wear a mask." (WordLive, 19th November 2008). To be a hypocrite is therefore to pretend to be someone or something you're not, or to believe one thing yet act in a way that contradicts that belief.
In Tom Holt's book Earth, Air, Fire and Custard Paul Carpenter is so fed up with being who he is (a total looser) that he changes his appearance and pretends to be a different person. This allows him to become the person who he wants to be- who in fact is actually him, but because he stops feeling that he's a looser he doesn't feel bad or ashamed of himself, has more confidence and actually is a much better person. In a way that's what I need. More confidence in myself to allow me to become more fully me. But where that's going to come from (other than God) I don't know.
I was reading Maskerade (as in the Discworld novel) the other day. The book draws on The Phantom of the Opera for aspects of it's plot. Both include a Ghost who wears a mask to change himself- in one case because of a disfiguring scar, in the other it gives him a totally different personality, with much more confidence and ability.
As well as concluding that I'm the character Agnes (cursed with a nice personality and an ability to keep her head, while others panic, faint gracefully and grab the limelight; however sadly I don't have the ability to sing in harmony with myself!)- shame that witching as a career is out of the question!- the book lead me to think about masks.
Some people construct themselves a mask to hide their true feelings, to protect themselves. I know some people like that. Maybe it's because they don't like who they are, or are afraid of what people will think of them. They want to be more popular, to appear more confident. They present a face to the world that is tougher, more witty, more worldly than they themselves are. They hide their true feelings, the hurts they suffer, the disappointments, the secret ambitions and desires, and present to the world what they think other people will want to see.
But the trouble with masks is that they slip. And they don't change what's going on inside. Maybe it can help, for a while or in certain circumstances. But I want to be who I am, to become even more so, to be the person God designed me to be. And hiding behind a mask I've constructed can't do that. I can't make myself someone else entirely (and I wouldn't want to anyway), and trying to become someone else means you loose something that makes you you. And that's a precious thing. Each of us is unique, reflecting (I believe) an aspect of God. So if we're continually trying to be someone else (the latest celebrity or hero from a film, book or history) we're not going to be happy. We can only do that by learning to be happy with ourselves, and with who we are in relation to God.
The word hypocrite apparently means "someone who has decided to act or speak under a false part – to wear a mask." (WordLive, 19th November 2008). To be a hypocrite is therefore to pretend to be someone or something you're not, or to believe one thing yet act in a way that contradicts that belief.
In Tom Holt's book Earth, Air, Fire and Custard Paul Carpenter is so fed up with being who he is (a total looser) that he changes his appearance and pretends to be a different person. This allows him to become the person who he wants to be- who in fact is actually him, but because he stops feeling that he's a looser he doesn't feel bad or ashamed of himself, has more confidence and actually is a much better person. In a way that's what I need. More confidence in myself to allow me to become more fully me. But where that's going to come from (other than God) I don't know.
Tuesday 18 November 2008
Les Miserables and loving mercy
As some of you may know, I've just finished reading Les Miserables (the book on which the musical is based rather than the musical itself). I enjoyed it, overall, although certain parts (eg half a dozen chapters on the history of the Paris sewer network- yes, really) weren't highlights. But parts of the story seemed to illustrate perfectly a discussion I was having with a friend a week or so ago.
We were (through some means that I can't quite remember) discussing justice and fairness. I had said that even if it was fair for someone to be unhappy because of a decision I'd made, I didn't want them to. "But it's fair," came the reply. "Even if it's fair, I don't want someone to be unhappy because of me," I responded.
My point was that sometimes what we deserve doesn't happen to us, because we are shown mercy. That, of course, is the whole point of the Christian gospel- that we (humankind, every one of us) are in a mess but because of God's love and mercy, expressed through Jesus' life and death, we can be sorted out and get, in effect, a new life. But when Christians go on about 'justice' and picture God as a judge who decides what we deserve, it can seem hard to see where mercy fits into this. People usually struggle thinking of a God who judges. But can a loving God be just- if we deserve something bad, is it just that we get good things, freedom, a second chance?
Near the beginning of Les Mis, Jean Valjean, as an ex-convict, finds it impossible to get lodging for the night until he is taken in by the Bishop of Digne. Despite the kindness and hospitality shown him by the bishop, Valjean, hardened by his years as a convict, steals the bishop's silver and runs away. He is caught and brought back to the bishop, who saves Valjean by declaring that the silver wasn't stolen, that he gave it to Valjean. He then gives Valjean two silver candlesticks, and tells him that from now on he must be an honest man, because he (the bishop) has bought Valjean's soul with the silver. The musical version puts it like this:
"You must use this precious silver to become an honest man,...
Christ has raised you out of darkness, I have bought your soul for God."
Valjean goes off, and (after a hiccup or two) does become an honest man, devoting and risking his life to helping the poor and making others happy. This encounter with the bishop profoundly changes him. Despite his deserving to be punished for his theft and sent back to the galleys, he is shown incredible mercy and generosity by the bishop, and instead of being returned to his old life he is given a chance to make a fresh start, to make a new life for himself. Instead of what he deserves (punishment) he gets something that is much better (life and freedom).
But is that fair? How can it be justice to give people a reward when they deserve punishment? At first sight it seems crazy. Why should Valjean, a man who has stolen from a someone who gave him kindness, treated him with respect, gave him food and a bed, not be punished? He know that what he's doing is wrong.
Yet the bishop forgives him. Why? Because he pities Valjean for what has happened to him, yes, but also, I think, because as a man of God he knows that God loves Valjean and wants to forgive him. The bishop's forgiveness of Valjean is symbolic of God's forgiveness, both to Valjean as an individual and to all humankind who turn to him.
Later on in the book Jean Valjean is faced with another choice. In the hope of protecting the man who his adopted daughter Cosette loves he has joined a group of rebel students at the barricade they have built. A spy, Javert, has been captured, and turns out to be a policeman who has been chasing Valjean for years. Valjean, rather than taking his revenge on Javert, saves his life and lets him go, even giving him his address so Javert can return and arrest him. Once again, instead of the punishment (in this case, death) that he was expecting, the condemned man is set free and given a new chance at life. Later Javert is able to return the favour and releases Valjean. But Javert cannot cope with the idea of mercy, of people who seem deserving of punishment being forgiven and rehabilitated. He commits suicide, unable to cope with the apparent injustice of the world:
"I am reaching, but I fall,
And the stars are black and cold,
As I stare into the void
Of a world that cannot hold.
I'll escape now from the world,
From the world of Jean Valjean,
There is nowhere I can turn to,
There is no way to go on!"
What would Javert's "ideal world" be like? What would our world be like if we all got what we deserved, and no better? I'm not sure I'd like it. And besides, who would decide whether we deserve something or not?
So is it fair that we should be forgiven? Or indeed that others should forgive us? Well, no, not really. Perhaps the best way to put it is to use the example of a mother and child- the child does something he knows is wrong, but the mother forgives it because she loves him (or her). It's not fair, the child doesn't deserve to be forgiven, but they are. In the same way, because he loves us, Jesus paid the penalty for all the stuff we're done wrong. Because of God's mercy and love, we don't get we deserve, we get what we don't deserve: forgiveness. It's called grace.
This post seems to be almost as long as the book itself. And if you think I'm over-spiritualising Les Mis, read the book. Honestly, I don't think I am- it's stuffed full of Christian references.
We were (through some means that I can't quite remember) discussing justice and fairness. I had said that even if it was fair for someone to be unhappy because of a decision I'd made, I didn't want them to. "But it's fair," came the reply. "Even if it's fair, I don't want someone to be unhappy because of me," I responded.
My point was that sometimes what we deserve doesn't happen to us, because we are shown mercy. That, of course, is the whole point of the Christian gospel- that we (humankind, every one of us) are in a mess but because of God's love and mercy, expressed through Jesus' life and death, we can be sorted out and get, in effect, a new life. But when Christians go on about 'justice' and picture God as a judge who decides what we deserve, it can seem hard to see where mercy fits into this. People usually struggle thinking of a God who judges. But can a loving God be just- if we deserve something bad, is it just that we get good things, freedom, a second chance?
Near the beginning of Les Mis, Jean Valjean, as an ex-convict, finds it impossible to get lodging for the night until he is taken in by the Bishop of Digne. Despite the kindness and hospitality shown him by the bishop, Valjean, hardened by his years as a convict, steals the bishop's silver and runs away. He is caught and brought back to the bishop, who saves Valjean by declaring that the silver wasn't stolen, that he gave it to Valjean. He then gives Valjean two silver candlesticks, and tells him that from now on he must be an honest man, because he (the bishop) has bought Valjean's soul with the silver. The musical version puts it like this:
"You must use this precious silver to become an honest man,...
Christ has raised you out of darkness, I have bought your soul for God."
Valjean goes off, and (after a hiccup or two) does become an honest man, devoting and risking his life to helping the poor and making others happy. This encounter with the bishop profoundly changes him. Despite his deserving to be punished for his theft and sent back to the galleys, he is shown incredible mercy and generosity by the bishop, and instead of being returned to his old life he is given a chance to make a fresh start, to make a new life for himself. Instead of what he deserves (punishment) he gets something that is much better (life and freedom).
But is that fair? How can it be justice to give people a reward when they deserve punishment? At first sight it seems crazy. Why should Valjean, a man who has stolen from a someone who gave him kindness, treated him with respect, gave him food and a bed, not be punished? He know that what he's doing is wrong.
Yet the bishop forgives him. Why? Because he pities Valjean for what has happened to him, yes, but also, I think, because as a man of God he knows that God loves Valjean and wants to forgive him. The bishop's forgiveness of Valjean is symbolic of God's forgiveness, both to Valjean as an individual and to all humankind who turn to him.
Later on in the book Jean Valjean is faced with another choice. In the hope of protecting the man who his adopted daughter Cosette loves he has joined a group of rebel students at the barricade they have built. A spy, Javert, has been captured, and turns out to be a policeman who has been chasing Valjean for years. Valjean, rather than taking his revenge on Javert, saves his life and lets him go, even giving him his address so Javert can return and arrest him. Once again, instead of the punishment (in this case, death) that he was expecting, the condemned man is set free and given a new chance at life. Later Javert is able to return the favour and releases Valjean. But Javert cannot cope with the idea of mercy, of people who seem deserving of punishment being forgiven and rehabilitated. He commits suicide, unable to cope with the apparent injustice of the world:
"I am reaching, but I fall,
And the stars are black and cold,
As I stare into the void
Of a world that cannot hold.
I'll escape now from the world,
From the world of Jean Valjean,
There is nowhere I can turn to,
There is no way to go on!"
What would Javert's "ideal world" be like? What would our world be like if we all got what we deserved, and no better? I'm not sure I'd like it. And besides, who would decide whether we deserve something or not?
So is it fair that we should be forgiven? Or indeed that others should forgive us? Well, no, not really. Perhaps the best way to put it is to use the example of a mother and child- the child does something he knows is wrong, but the mother forgives it because she loves him (or her). It's not fair, the child doesn't deserve to be forgiven, but they are. In the same way, because he loves us, Jesus paid the penalty for all the stuff we're done wrong. Because of God's mercy and love, we don't get we deserve, we get what we don't deserve: forgiveness. It's called grace.
This post seems to be almost as long as the book itself. And if you think I'm over-spiritualising Les Mis, read the book. Honestly, I don't think I am- it's stuffed full of Christian references.
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