Today, 30th January, is the anniversary of the execution of Charles I in 1649 (or 1648, since the year didn't end on 31st December back then but in March, I think. Sorry, but I'm a history geek. I know these things). I've always had somewhat mixed feelings about Charles. Having studied his views and the way he tried to put them into practice during his reign I can't help thinking he was arrogant, stubborn, and fairly incompetent (like most of the Stuart kings, to be honest). Nor is he a character that I warm to- the fact that he felt so far above his people that he didn't need to explain why he felt such-and-such a policy was the correct one, or to make a case for his beliefs, is something I immediately dislike.
Yet I admire Charles' courage when he was facing death, and in refusing to give up the things he believed in. Stubbornness it was, but courageous too. And although I think his beliefs in the right of the king to do basically anything he liked were mistaken, I hope that if I am ever called on to stand up and face possible death for the things I believe in that I could do so with as much constancy as he showed. I have less time for his defence against the court that tried him (or rather his lack of defence, since he refused to admit the legality of the court which, while the court's legitimacy was dubious, doesn't excuse what he was accused of) since it has recently been used by Slobodan Milosevic and Saddam Hussein.
Charles' confrontation with Parliament was important as part of the progress of England (and later Britain) towards our current parliamentary democracy. Despite the limited success of experiments in running the country without a king in the decade after Charles's death, and despite the attempts of Charles' sons to restore some of the king's previous power, the principal that Parliament was the only body that could legitimately raise taxes was established. Parliament, and especially the House of Commons, were now seen as a force to be reckoned with and future monarchs could not afford to ignore them.
That's not to say that the later Stuart monarchs didn't have power. The points of dispute during the civil wars of the 1640's were not really settled until the Glorious (or Bloodless, both fairly inaccurate terms) Revolution of 1688, when Stuart king James II's attempts to reinstate Catholics in public office, despite laws passed by parliament, backfired and led to him fleeing the country from his invading son-in-law, William III. William was mainly interested in Britain for its strategic position in his country (Holland)'s war against France, and agreed to Parliament's constitutional demands in return for their support. When, a few decades later, the throne passed to a couple of Georges who didn't speak much English and were more concerned about their little German principality Parliament's control on the government of the country was confirmed, as men like Robert Walpole, in all but name the first Prime Minister, did most of the work on the king's behalf.
Where does that leave Charles? I think he'd be very puzzled and disappointed if he were to see the state of the country today. Not just the fact that the monarch has almost no direct power, but also the general lack of trust in the people running the country, and their perceived lack of values. Say what you like about modern politicians (or more often what you don't like!) but they are elected. If they're too much of a pain, we can get rid of them. On that day on the scaffold in Whitehall, the principal of accountability for the head (no pun intended!) of government was established. I don't think that's a bad thing.
Note to any historians of the period who may happen to be reading this: the history above is extremely simplified and the reasons given for the occurrence of events include only some of the contributory factors!
Friday 30 January 2009
Monday 26 January 2009
Who are our Samaritans?
I was reading earlier today about Jesus and the Samaritan woman (see John 4 v1-42). We're mainly familiar with Samaritans through the story of the 'Good' Samaritan, who helps the man attacked by robbers when the priest and temple-server ignore his need. What's controvertial about that story is that to Jesus' audience, Samaritans were the bad guys, the ones in the wrong. Hereditary enemies of the Jews, the Samaritans thought they were worshipping the same God, but had wandered off track into idol-worship and had mixed with the Cananite tribes and their non-Jewish practices.
Yet here Jesus is seen talking to a Samaritan woman- even worse, a woman of ill-repute! Jewish rabbis wouldn't have been keen to talk to women in public, even less someone who'd had 5 husbands, was now living with a man, unmarried, and to top it all a Samaritan! Yet Jesus asks her for water, talks to her about her life, and even reveals to her his identity as the Messiah in much more definate terms than he has spoken to the Jews so far.
Why? And why is the response to Jesus here more enthusiastic than it frequently was in Jewish areas? I don't know. Perhaps Jesus could see that here, in this woman and her town, there was a genuine thirst for spiritual "water."
The disciples, as ever, haven't got a clue what's going on. They just want lunch. Bound up in cultural prejudices they don't see what God's doing among the Samaritans. Jesus tries to show them that these 'fields' are ready to be harvested, that the people here want to hear his good news. Later, he tells them that their mission to tell people about Jesus and what he has done is not just to the Jews, but to the Samaritans and the whole world.
It led me to think: Who are our Samaritans? Who are those people close at hand who we really don't get on with, but who God might see are longing to hear what he has to say? The Samaritans weren't far away from the Jews, but right next door. Who, in our towns and cities, our culture, are those we ostracise? The homeless? The unemployed? Those who are into 'alternative' ways of living?
Jesus was willing to break down cultural barriers and transgress accepted behaviour to reach the Samaritans. Are we willing to do the same, to reach out to those in need? I know I'm not very good at it. But is the church any better? Or do we only want people who sing the same songs as we do (this applies to modern band-style worship as much as organ and choir), are comfortable sitting through a half-hour sermon and prayers? What about those for whom even entering a church is completely foreign to their experience? What are the expectations and behaviour we force on these people, and how can we, like Jesus, reach out and break down these barriers, remembering that "in Christ there is no slave or free, Jew or Gentile, man or woman"?
Sorry, that seems to have become another anti-church rant. I love the church really- or at least the idea of the church. Perhaps that's why I get so worked up about it- I love it so much I can't ignore its' failings, but want to do what I can (which doesn't seem to be very much at present) to make it more like how it should be.
Yet here Jesus is seen talking to a Samaritan woman- even worse, a woman of ill-repute! Jewish rabbis wouldn't have been keen to talk to women in public, even less someone who'd had 5 husbands, was now living with a man, unmarried, and to top it all a Samaritan! Yet Jesus asks her for water, talks to her about her life, and even reveals to her his identity as the Messiah in much more definate terms than he has spoken to the Jews so far.
Why? And why is the response to Jesus here more enthusiastic than it frequently was in Jewish areas? I don't know. Perhaps Jesus could see that here, in this woman and her town, there was a genuine thirst for spiritual "water."
The disciples, as ever, haven't got a clue what's going on. They just want lunch. Bound up in cultural prejudices they don't see what God's doing among the Samaritans. Jesus tries to show them that these 'fields' are ready to be harvested, that the people here want to hear his good news. Later, he tells them that their mission to tell people about Jesus and what he has done is not just to the Jews, but to the Samaritans and the whole world.
It led me to think: Who are our Samaritans? Who are those people close at hand who we really don't get on with, but who God might see are longing to hear what he has to say? The Samaritans weren't far away from the Jews, but right next door. Who, in our towns and cities, our culture, are those we ostracise? The homeless? The unemployed? Those who are into 'alternative' ways of living?
Jesus was willing to break down cultural barriers and transgress accepted behaviour to reach the Samaritans. Are we willing to do the same, to reach out to those in need? I know I'm not very good at it. But is the church any better? Or do we only want people who sing the same songs as we do (this applies to modern band-style worship as much as organ and choir), are comfortable sitting through a half-hour sermon and prayers? What about those for whom even entering a church is completely foreign to their experience? What are the expectations and behaviour we force on these people, and how can we, like Jesus, reach out and break down these barriers, remembering that "in Christ there is no slave or free, Jew or Gentile, man or woman"?
Sorry, that seems to have become another anti-church rant. I love the church really- or at least the idea of the church. Perhaps that's why I get so worked up about it- I love it so much I can't ignore its' failings, but want to do what I can (which doesn't seem to be very much at present) to make it more like how it should be.
Wednesday 21 January 2009
Unthinking faith? (part 2)
So many people, when they argue against faith, suggest that believers are easily deluded, because they don't think, that they accept what they're told without looking at the evidence. I've had several conversations where people have implied that's true about me. If you must argue against faith, and Christianity in particular, please don't say that it discourages thought, or that it teaches people not to think. In the past, this may have unfortunately been true of the church in some places, but it's neither healthy nor encouraged by the mainstream church today. I think far too much. I just don't think the rationalist way of looking at things should be seen as the only way.
Historically people have been aware that "there are more things in heaven and earth" than are dreamt of or given credence in the rational or scientific philosophy that has characterised the last few centuries. The rational thought movement grew from roots in Renaissance Europe and to it we owe many great advances in thought and scientific knowledge. The empirical method of research (basically gathering evidence to test a hypothesis) and thus the idea that before you accept the truth of something, before you believe it, you must be convinced by the evidence, is one reason why many people today say they don't believe in God.
But other cultures (for example the far east) have always acknowledged a broader viewpoint. Some aspects of modern culture also seem to be coming back to that point of view-(for example the various meditation groups) although not always in a helpful way.
So just because Christians, or people of other faiths, believe things they can't empirically prove, that doesn't mean they can be criticised for not thinking. There's more to thought than rationalism.
Historically people have been aware that "there are more things in heaven and earth" than are dreamt of or given credence in the rational or scientific philosophy that has characterised the last few centuries. The rational thought movement grew from roots in Renaissance Europe and to it we owe many great advances in thought and scientific knowledge. The empirical method of research (basically gathering evidence to test a hypothesis) and thus the idea that before you accept the truth of something, before you believe it, you must be convinced by the evidence, is one reason why many people today say they don't believe in God.
There is, I think, evidence for the existence of God. The testimony of people who believe they have experienced his power in their lives, miracles, arguments constructed by theologians and philosophers. But none of it- not even all of it together- proves beyond doubt that there is a God.
But it's no good saying "I don't believe in God because there isn't enough independent evidence." It's not a question of evidence. God, by his very nature as supernatural and uncreated, is outside normal human experience and explanation. So we can't unthinkingly apply the usual rules to his existence. Evidence can help us decide whether the idea of God is worth taking seriously or not, but there's another factor to consider before deciding whether God exists.
That elusive, mysterious quantity called faith. That something that means you can be sure of something which you can't prove. That lets you trust in the unknowable. It isn't rational, isn't reasonable. And that, I think, is one reason why people often struggle with it. It's counter-cultural to believe something you can't know. It can be dangerous. Even if you can think of some evidence or reasons for you faith, it can still be scary.
If God's existence could be proven, there would be no need for faith. If God's existence was evident, if we were made with an awareness of him, if there was no mystery, we would have no option but to do as he commanded. We couldn't choose. We couldn't love. God doesn't want robots, he wants children. So we have to be free to choose to love, or to reject him.
But other cultures (for example the far east) have always acknowledged a broader viewpoint. Some aspects of modern culture also seem to be coming back to that point of view-(for example the various meditation groups) although not always in a helpful way.
So just because Christians, or people of other faiths, believe things they can't empirically prove, that doesn't mean they can be criticised for not thinking. There's more to thought than rationalism.
Unthinking faith? (part 1)
Firstly, it's good to see that some people in even the C of E haven't lost their sense of humour over Dawkins: a stray cat found at Southwark Cathedral has been named Doorkins Magnificat Wish I'd thought of that...
Anyway. I read this article about people believing UFO's are responsible for damage to wind turbines, and my first reaction was "some people will believe anything." Even the company that owns the turbines, Ecotricity, have so far refused to rule out the 'possibility.'
To relate the previous two paragraphs together, I remembered something Dawkins had said in when the buses first came to my attention: "thinking is anathema to religion." I disagreed at the time, and still do. But his point of view agrees with the suggestion (was it Marx? I think so, but all of his work I ever read was The German Ideology and it nearly sent me to sleep- and that was before I stayed up all night for an after-show party during the open exam!) that religion is a "crutch" or "opium" that keeps people quiet, happy, and stops them thinking too much. That gives them something to lean on, a promise of help in hard times, of reward, if not in this life then at least after death.
No doubt that's a gross simplification of the argument, for which I apologise. However, I have neither the knowledge nor the time, at present, to go into more depth. My point is that many people today see religion, faith, belief as naive, groundless, blind trust in things which although once incomprehensible, are now explained by science. They see it as unreasonable- against reason or logic, which modernism has led us to see as the only worthwhile way of looking at things.
Apart from my belief that science and religion address different questions and that neither rules out the veracity of the other, I think the people who assume (and many do without even realising it, so common is the attitude in modern culture) that those who have a faith don't are gullible or wilfully deceiving themselves are being highly unfair. Even leaving aside the contribution Christians (and believers of other faiths) have made to modern knowledge, I'd dispute that being a Christian is an easy alternative, a first-class ticket guaranteeing a smooth ride through life and death.
I doubt that many Christians- people who are truly committed to living their lives as God calls them to- would agree with the picture of their faith as a crutch. I doubt that the hundreds of people who have been killed, and are still being killed, kidnapped, beaten, having their homes, cars and churches burnt and their families threatened in China, India, North Korea, the Middle East, parts of Africa would say that it is a way of making their lives easier- and I defy anyone to say it for them. Yes, it gives them hope for the future, hope that there's something beyond death. But they know the risks. Even in the face of certain persecution, of making their lives worse, the church is growing in many of these places. Explain that, if you think religion is the "opium of the people."
Even in the relatively free and open West, I'd suggest that following a faith- really following it, rather than just the surface conformity you meet all too often in churches- presents too many challenges to be an easy option. Jesus taught his disciples to follow a radically different lifestyle, different at the time and different now. That doesn't make for an easy life. I should know. And when you do try to live as Jesus taught, somehow things often seem to go wrong. Because the rest of the world doesn't live like that, and to them what you're doing doesn't make sense.
Christianity isn't putting one's brain on hold or being satisfied with not knowing the truth. It's not even about a 'God of the gaps', where God suffices as an explanation for anything we can't explain rationally. That kind of explanation doesn't wash for me. There are many things about God that I don't understand. That's where I say that I don't understand now, and I maybe never will, but it doesn't stop me wanting, or trying, to find an answer. It's not really that much different from saying that we don't understand this or that about the origins of the universe, or the causes of cancer. We're sure there is an answer, we just don't know what at this time.
Friday 16 January 2009
Whoever thought buses were dull?
They're back. Again. The atheist bus adverts just won't go away. If the idea behind them was to raise awareness of matters of belief, the adverts' creators have certainly been successful.
I admire the moral courage and principals of the driver who refused to drive the bus with the adverts. However, I don't think that in the same place I'd have refused. Maybe I should. Perhaps it's just a lack of moral courage on my part. However, it does give the advantage slightly to the advert's creators, who can now say that it's unfair for him to refuse, because a non-believer who refused to drive a bus with (say) Christian adverts on would probably be less likely to get such sympathetic treatment from his employers.
Besides, I really don't see the bus adverts as much of a threat to Christianity- or any other faith. People don't change their beliefs just because they see something on a bus! The adverts may (I hope they do) make people think. If they help people realise that they don't really believe in a God, that's fine. It might make them realise what they're missing out on. If the adverts make people think about what they believe, realise that they don't really know, and decide to find out about the whole idea, even better. As for people who already believe, (or have decided they don't) it's unlikely to make them change their minds one way or the other. My favourite response is still that of the Methodist Church, who have apparently 'said it would be a "good thing if it gets people to engage with the deepest questions of life" and suggested it showed there was a "continued interest in God".'
One thing that struck me today is that all the response and criticism I've seen has come from Christian organisations. I'd be interested to hear what the Islamic or Jewish communities make of the adverts.
Another possible take on the adverts came to me as a result of my local bishop's sermon at the installation of my church's new minister earlier this week. He was advocating sending Christians out to work in the community- for example, the newsagent who knows his customers and can chat to them, bringing a Christian perspective to the news he's selling. Maybe the church should be encouraging Christian bus drivers to comment on the adverts to colleagues and customers, and engaging in debate with the atheists, rather than just rubbishing them.
You can read my previous comments on the buses here and here.
I admire the moral courage and principals of the driver who refused to drive the bus with the adverts. However, I don't think that in the same place I'd have refused. Maybe I should. Perhaps it's just a lack of moral courage on my part. However, it does give the advantage slightly to the advert's creators, who can now say that it's unfair for him to refuse, because a non-believer who refused to drive a bus with (say) Christian adverts on would probably be less likely to get such sympathetic treatment from his employers.
Besides, I really don't see the bus adverts as much of a threat to Christianity- or any other faith. People don't change their beliefs just because they see something on a bus! The adverts may (I hope they do) make people think. If they help people realise that they don't really believe in a God, that's fine. It might make them realise what they're missing out on. If the adverts make people think about what they believe, realise that they don't really know, and decide to find out about the whole idea, even better. As for people who already believe, (or have decided they don't) it's unlikely to make them change their minds one way or the other. My favourite response is still that of the Methodist Church, who have apparently 'said it would be a "good thing if it gets people to engage with the deepest questions of life" and suggested it showed there was a "continued interest in God".'
One thing that struck me today is that all the response and criticism I've seen has come from Christian organisations. I'd be interested to hear what the Islamic or Jewish communities make of the adverts.
Another possible take on the adverts came to me as a result of my local bishop's sermon at the installation of my church's new minister earlier this week. He was advocating sending Christians out to work in the community- for example, the newsagent who knows his customers and can chat to them, bringing a Christian perspective to the news he's selling. Maybe the church should be encouraging Christian bus drivers to comment on the adverts to colleagues and customers, and engaging in debate with the atheists, rather than just rubbishing them.
You can read my previous comments on the buses here and here.
Wednesday 14 January 2009
Aaaargh! Mind the pedestrian!
I've finally got round to booking driving lessons. I've been intending to do this for about 18 months, but a combination of factors (unemployment, being too busy/ lazy) have prevented me. But now it's done, avoid the streets of York on the morning of 22nd January and subsequent Thursday mornings. Incidentally, one of the benefits of not having found a full time job yet is that I will be able to start learning in the mornings, while it's still light, rather than it taking up one of my precious few free evenings.
To be honest, one of the reasons I've not started learning yet is that I'm scared. The idea, at 17, of being in control of this big, complicated lump of metal that could kill people and damage property seemed terrifying. I had no particular reason to want to learn, so I didn't. The idea still does scare me. There seems to be so much to remember, to do, to learn, let alone the tests themselves. Having not had an exam for several years now the tests alone seem quite scary! And just knowing that I'll get things wrong in lessons, and quite likely fail the test once or twice- I'm not sure if my rather low self-confidence will be able to stand it!
Then there's all the bother and expense of owning a car- tax, insurance, maintenance, security, parking costs, breakdown cover...the list goes on. Not to mention the environmental impact.
However, I now have reasons to learn. From an employment point of view, especially if, as I'd love to, I end up working for/ in the church, it widens what I can apply for and how useful I can be. From a personal point of view, I know my parents have helped me a lot, even since I left home, whenever it's been necessary to cart all my belongings from house to house or from one end of the country to the other. But both of them are getting older, and I know I can't rely on this help for much longer. Also, if either of them ever need my help, I want to be able to get to them as quickly as possible, wherever they are, and if necessary help transport them.
Environmentally, I know more cars are bad. Despite the reasons above, I do feel slightly guilty at giving in to the cultural pressure that expects every 'proper adult' to have a car. And I know that if I had a car I would probably use a it in some situations where I now walk, or use public transport, because it saves time, is safer than walking alone at night or easier than trying to transport 5 people, two tents and various bits of camping equipment by train and on foot. What I hope it wouldn't do is stop me walking most places- I enjoy walking, it's good exercise and it's environmentally friendly. I would probably still use public transport over most long distances, too.
So I'm going to learn. I'm still rather scared, but hoping that it won't be as bad as I fear! If you're a praying person, please do pray for me. And if a car with L=plates swerves madly across the road in front of you, please forgive me- I'm only learning!
To be honest, one of the reasons I've not started learning yet is that I'm scared. The idea, at 17, of being in control of this big, complicated lump of metal that could kill people and damage property seemed terrifying. I had no particular reason to want to learn, so I didn't. The idea still does scare me. There seems to be so much to remember, to do, to learn, let alone the tests themselves. Having not had an exam for several years now the tests alone seem quite scary! And just knowing that I'll get things wrong in lessons, and quite likely fail the test once or twice- I'm not sure if my rather low self-confidence will be able to stand it!
Then there's all the bother and expense of owning a car- tax, insurance, maintenance, security, parking costs, breakdown cover...the list goes on. Not to mention the environmental impact.
However, I now have reasons to learn. From an employment point of view, especially if, as I'd love to, I end up working for/ in the church, it widens what I can apply for and how useful I can be. From a personal point of view, I know my parents have helped me a lot, even since I left home, whenever it's been necessary to cart all my belongings from house to house or from one end of the country to the other. But both of them are getting older, and I know I can't rely on this help for much longer. Also, if either of them ever need my help, I want to be able to get to them as quickly as possible, wherever they are, and if necessary help transport them.
Environmentally, I know more cars are bad. Despite the reasons above, I do feel slightly guilty at giving in to the cultural pressure that expects every 'proper adult' to have a car. And I know that if I had a car I would probably use a it in some situations where I now walk, or use public transport, because it saves time, is safer than walking alone at night or easier than trying to transport 5 people, two tents and various bits of camping equipment by train and on foot. What I hope it wouldn't do is stop me walking most places- I enjoy walking, it's good exercise and it's environmentally friendly. I would probably still use public transport over most long distances, too.
So I'm going to learn. I'm still rather scared, but hoping that it won't be as bad as I fear! If you're a praying person, please do pray for me. And if a car with L=plates swerves madly across the road in front of you, please forgive me- I'm only learning!
Monday 12 January 2009
Journeys
You may have noticed (if anyone actually reads this!) the sudden spurt of posts lately. Holidays have probably contributed to this, so don't get to used to it! I've also been tweaking the site layout lately, hope you like it (if you notice!)
Anyway, it's a bit late (or early, depending on how you look at it!) to be posting about Christmas, but I wanted to say something about this poem, T.S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi." Eliot's a poet whose work I enjoy reading, although often I'm not sure exactly what he's on about! I didn't know this when I set out to write this post, but apparently this poem was was written soon after Eliot's conversion and baptism into the Anglican church (you can read comments on it here), and scholars believe it may reflect his own journey from agnosticism to faith.
What strikes me about it is the sombre ending. You expect a poem about the three wise men to end on a high note, as they find and worship Christ, or at least on a note of rebellion as they return to their own lands a different way to avoid Herod's murderous intentions. Instead, finding Jesus, the object of their long journey, is just described as "satisfactory."
Like the carols I wrote about earlier, the birth of Jesus is inextricably linked to his death, to the point where the magus is unable to distinguish the two: "this Birth was hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death." The poem contains references to Jesus' crucifixion, from people playing dice for pieces of silver to "three trees on the low sky." The speaker leaves us in no doubt that the encounter with the infant Christ changed him, left him feeling uncomfortable and "no longer at ease here...with an alien people clutching their gods." The encounter makes him realise the falsity of everything else, when confronted with the truth of Jesus.
I wonder how many people today feel that disturbed by encountering Jesus, or indeed if they have the opportunity to encounter him at all in a meaningful way that allows them to be disturbed? Before, on his journey to Jesus, the magus describes "voices singing in our ears, saying that this was all folly." Travelling all those miles with no clear idea where you're going to search for a baby sounds like folly to our rational minds. Searching for Jesus can still seem irrational today, our minds can tell us it's a silly thing to do, we don't need supernatural beings these days. But this poem tells two stories, both the fictional magus's and the poet's, of encountering a very real person. The challenge for Christians and churches, not just at Christmas but all year round, is how to help and allow people to encounter this life-changing person in a way that touches them.
Anyway, it's a bit late (or early, depending on how you look at it!) to be posting about Christmas, but I wanted to say something about this poem, T.S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi." Eliot's a poet whose work I enjoy reading, although often I'm not sure exactly what he's on about! I didn't know this when I set out to write this post, but apparently this poem was was written soon after Eliot's conversion and baptism into the Anglican church (you can read comments on it here), and scholars believe it may reflect his own journey from agnosticism to faith.
What strikes me about it is the sombre ending. You expect a poem about the three wise men to end on a high note, as they find and worship Christ, or at least on a note of rebellion as they return to their own lands a different way to avoid Herod's murderous intentions. Instead, finding Jesus, the object of their long journey, is just described as "satisfactory."
Like the carols I wrote about earlier, the birth of Jesus is inextricably linked to his death, to the point where the magus is unable to distinguish the two: "this Birth was hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death." The poem contains references to Jesus' crucifixion, from people playing dice for pieces of silver to "three trees on the low sky." The speaker leaves us in no doubt that the encounter with the infant Christ changed him, left him feeling uncomfortable and "no longer at ease here...with an alien people clutching their gods." The encounter makes him realise the falsity of everything else, when confronted with the truth of Jesus.
I wonder how many people today feel that disturbed by encountering Jesus, or indeed if they have the opportunity to encounter him at all in a meaningful way that allows them to be disturbed? Before, on his journey to Jesus, the magus describes "voices singing in our ears, saying that this was all folly." Travelling all those miles with no clear idea where you're going to search for a baby sounds like folly to our rational minds. Searching for Jesus can still seem irrational today, our minds can tell us it's a silly thing to do, we don't need supernatural beings these days. But this poem tells two stories, both the fictional magus's and the poet's, of encountering a very real person. The challenge for Christians and churches, not just at Christmas but all year round, is how to help and allow people to encounter this life-changing person in a way that touches them.
Friday 9 January 2009
Weeping for Jerusalem
The Palestine/ Israeli conflict is in the headlines again. How anybody on either side can look at it and not be moved I don't know. How Israel thinks attacking targets where there's a high risk of killing or wounding civillians is going to stop Palestinian rocket attacks is also beyond me. But I don't think they do, really. A friend writes here about how the conflict serves to distract the Israeli public and politicians from internal problems. Forget the original cause, a dispute over land ownership, now it seems just an excuse to hate each other. The hate won't stop unless the land issues are sorted, in some measure, but with neither side willing to give ground (literally) it seems the violence will just go on and on. Neither side's international friends will let them be totally destroyed by the other.
Are the measures each side has taken justified? They say they are, of course. But I find Israel's treatment of the Palestinians- hemming them in with walls and checkpoints, cutting families and friends off from one another, preventing people going to work or basic humanitarian supplies from reaching Hamas-held territory pretty hard to defend, even before the latest round of violence. Of course, firing rockets that hit civillians isn't justified either. But to retaliate, as Israel has done, by targeting schools and refugee camps where they know there will be a high chance of hitting civillians...I find it hard to see how it's justifiable.
I don't know the solution. I don't even know if there is one. It would be a good start if those on both sides could stop seeing each other as "the enemy" and treat each other as human beings, it would be good if both sides realised the other does have a claim to the land as well as they do, and that a two-state solution is actually possible, it would be good if certain elements didn't try to blame everything on anti-semitism and the holocaust. Is the irrational hatred of and discrimination against Jews is any worse than the irrational hatred of and discrimination against Arabs Israelis or Palestinians?
When Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem to be crucified he stopped and looked at the city, saying "If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you." (Luke 19 v41).
The reference is usually interpreted as referring to the destruction caused by the Romans in about 70AD, but you can sense Jesus' frustration- the Jews would not see what they were doing, how they were storing up trouble for themselves. Jesus wept over the city then. I imagine he still weeps over what the Israelis and Palestinians are doing to each other. Perhaps if only the leaders of the two groups would see, and weep too, there might be some hope of an end to all this.
Are the measures each side has taken justified? They say they are, of course. But I find Israel's treatment of the Palestinians- hemming them in with walls and checkpoints, cutting families and friends off from one another, preventing people going to work or basic humanitarian supplies from reaching Hamas-held territory pretty hard to defend, even before the latest round of violence. Of course, firing rockets that hit civillians isn't justified either. But to retaliate, as Israel has done, by targeting schools and refugee camps where they know there will be a high chance of hitting civillians...I find it hard to see how it's justifiable.
I don't know the solution. I don't even know if there is one. It would be a good start if those on both sides could stop seeing each other as "the enemy" and treat each other as human beings, it would be good if both sides realised the other does have a claim to the land as well as they do, and that a two-state solution is actually possible, it would be good if certain elements didn't try to blame everything on anti-semitism and the holocaust. Is the irrational hatred of and discrimination against Jews is any worse than the irrational hatred of and discrimination against Arabs Israelis or Palestinians?
When Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem to be crucified he stopped and looked at the city, saying "If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you." (Luke 19 v41).
The reference is usually interpreted as referring to the destruction caused by the Romans in about 70AD, but you can sense Jesus' frustration- the Jews would not see what they were doing, how they were storing up trouble for themselves. Jesus wept over the city then. I imagine he still weeps over what the Israelis and Palestinians are doing to each other. Perhaps if only the leaders of the two groups would see, and weep too, there might be some hope of an end to all this.
Wednesday 7 January 2009
A warm heart, a cool head, and me feeling useless again..
On Sunday night at church Jim, the preacher, spoke about some very similar issues to those I did in my last post: the shrinking of the church. He talked about some of the ways the church has tried to halt this, but concluded, somewhat gloomily, that although these had slowed the decline they had not stopped it.
This certainly wasn't all he talked about, but it was what stood out to me, and let me breathe a sigh of relief. It's not just me that feels like that, as if almost everything we do seems to be pointless, so much effort for so little 'harvest'. It's something I often find myself feeling down about- indeed, earlier that day I'd been worrying about it. Because however much I go on in my writings about evangelism being an integral part of our daily lives, about the way we live, about our character and the way we behave towards others, the terrible truth always lurks in the shadows, bugging me. I can't ignore it.
I've never seen anyone come to faith. Not just in the sense of being there at the time, but of being involved in the process at all. No one I know that isn't already a Christian even seems to be interested. Some friends I've prayed for for three, four, even five years without seeing any kind of change take place. And it can get me down, thinking how much they're missing out on, and make me feel like a failure, as if it's my fault, that I'm doing something wrong or am not doing something I should be. Even when I was helping run the Alpha course, one of the more successful ways of introducing Christianity to people, no one in either of my groups came to faith. (I should point out that people in other groups on the course did.) Some who had already made commitments increased their knowledge and understanding, others who hadn't also learnt things which made them think. But comparing my personal record (and I know one shouldn't really) to other people I know, it seems rather pathetic. What right have I got to say or write all this stuff when, even trying to put it into practice, I seem to be a pretty ineffective witness?
Of course, we don't know what effect our words or actions may have at some point in the future, but I find it hard to believe I can have made that much impression on people. The most I can claim is to have perhaps demonstrated to my friends that Christians are humans too, even if we are a bit odd at times! So the prudent course would be for me to shut up, to stop writing or talking about the subject. But I can't. It's a subject I feel strongly about. If it wasn't so important I wouldn't feel so bad that the people I care about aren't interested.
Jim the preacher went on to talk about how Moses spent a long time in the desert of Midian before embarking on his mission to free the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. Although he had wanted to help the Israelites earlier, his passionate killing of the Egyptian slave driver only led to him having to flee the country (see Exodus 2 v11-25). Jim's point was that we have to balance our passion with knowledge and understanding- of God's will, God's word and of other people. We need, as he said, a warm heart and a cool head. And also we need to be patient and wait for what God might be teaching us when it seems like we're getting nowhere, doing nothing useful. As Moses had to go through a period of learning (and calming down!) so sometimes God can be teaching us something- even if we don't have a clue what!- when it feels like nothing's happening. Maybe that's what's happening to me at the moment.
This certainly wasn't all he talked about, but it was what stood out to me, and let me breathe a sigh of relief. It's not just me that feels like that, as if almost everything we do seems to be pointless, so much effort for so little 'harvest'. It's something I often find myself feeling down about- indeed, earlier that day I'd been worrying about it. Because however much I go on in my writings about evangelism being an integral part of our daily lives, about the way we live, about our character and the way we behave towards others, the terrible truth always lurks in the shadows, bugging me. I can't ignore it.
I've never seen anyone come to faith. Not just in the sense of being there at the time, but of being involved in the process at all. No one I know that isn't already a Christian even seems to be interested. Some friends I've prayed for for three, four, even five years without seeing any kind of change take place. And it can get me down, thinking how much they're missing out on, and make me feel like a failure, as if it's my fault, that I'm doing something wrong or am not doing something I should be. Even when I was helping run the Alpha course, one of the more successful ways of introducing Christianity to people, no one in either of my groups came to faith. (I should point out that people in other groups on the course did.) Some who had already made commitments increased their knowledge and understanding, others who hadn't also learnt things which made them think. But comparing my personal record (and I know one shouldn't really) to other people I know, it seems rather pathetic. What right have I got to say or write all this stuff when, even trying to put it into practice, I seem to be a pretty ineffective witness?
Of course, we don't know what effect our words or actions may have at some point in the future, but I find it hard to believe I can have made that much impression on people. The most I can claim is to have perhaps demonstrated to my friends that Christians are humans too, even if we are a bit odd at times! So the prudent course would be for me to shut up, to stop writing or talking about the subject. But I can't. It's a subject I feel strongly about. If it wasn't so important I wouldn't feel so bad that the people I care about aren't interested.
Jim the preacher went on to talk about how Moses spent a long time in the desert of Midian before embarking on his mission to free the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. Although he had wanted to help the Israelites earlier, his passionate killing of the Egyptian slave driver only led to him having to flee the country (see Exodus 2 v11-25). Jim's point was that we have to balance our passion with knowledge and understanding- of God's will, God's word and of other people. We need, as he said, a warm heart and a cool head. And also we need to be patient and wait for what God might be teaching us when it seems like we're getting nowhere, doing nothing useful. As Moses had to go through a period of learning (and calming down!) so sometimes God can be teaching us something- even if we don't have a clue what!- when it feels like nothing's happening. Maybe that's what's happening to me at the moment.
Monday 5 January 2009
What makes you attractive?
How do you decide that someone is attractive? I'm far from calling myself an expert, but criteria might include someone you like (looks, personality etc) someone you feel is worth your interest, someone you feel you have a lot in common with.
How do you decide that a cause or an organisation is attractive, and worthy of your attention? Surely it's in much the same way (although physical looks probably don't come into it!). It's something you feel is worth committing time and money to, something you agree with.
What makes the Church (or Christianity, if you wish) attractive? What are the things about it that make us decide it's worthy of our attention, our commitment, our time and money? What makes it worthwhile? What is the church for?
I don't think this is a question many people within the church ask themselves. To them, the church is the church, it's what they do on Sunday mornings (or whenever). I don't think the question is exactly the same as "What are Christians for?" although it's related. So many churchgoers think the church is just there for them, and don't consider its wider mission in the world.
The early church was composed of groups (probably quite small) meeting in people's homes. They would meet, it seems, to worship and pray and learn from the scriptures and the Spirit about God. And largely that's what we still do in our churches today, I suppose. But back then, in the first century, the church was growing rapidly. Even though there was no support from the state, or an organised bureaucracy, even though they were often being persecuted, the church grew. The same is true today in places like China. But why? What made these groups of people attractive?
I don't know. Having grown up within the church I find it hard to imagine what it's like to view it from outside. If you're someone from outside with views, I'd like to know what you think. To be honest, with the kind of publicity the Western church gets (much of it, unfortunately, justified though unbalanced) I find it hard to see why anyone would find it attractive. For so long the church took it for granted that everyone was within it that it didn't have to worry about being attractive. So now, in an environment where most people are outside and not even interested, there's a problem. Why would anyone be interested in a bunch of elderly, out of touch, guitar (or organ pipe) wielding and above all bickering weirdos? So many people see the church as stuck in the past, advocating ideas that seem behind the times (such as being against sex before marriage, homosexuality, contraception, abortion, equality for women- the list goes on)*. What's attractive about that?
But turn that around...at its best the church is a community of people who have and abide by a set of values, standards which are more important to them than just saying "whatever I want is right." That, in our current culture, is radically different. It stands out. Maybe it would make the church attractive- if we can get the message across.
I read this on the WordLive site for 11th Dec last year: "I have a suspicion that the same thing God finds so detestable is the very thing that keeps many from finding faith in Jesus: a Church that seems so wrapped up in keeping up holy appearances that it forgets its mandate to promote justice and love its neighbours as itself." Alistair Metcalfe.
What about this mandate? Do we pay it much notice? Oh, maybe we buy fairtrade coffee, and pray for those who are persecuted, but do we actually see it as our mission to "promote justice"? Not just individually, but as a church. High-up churchmen and women tend to be criticised for speaking out against things which they consider wrong, but really, that's their job. Like Old Testament prophets the church has to speak out where she sees things being done which God hates. She cannot keep silent. Are we committed to a prophetic ministry? Do we support and encourage our leaders to take such steps? Do we pray for them to have the courage to speak out? Do we ourselves speak out when confronted with injustice at work, or among our friends?
Loving our neighbours is probably better done, yet while helping the homeless, the poor, the ill, is relatively widespread, does the church consider loving its neighbours in, say, the city (or parish) council? Or the local mosque? The council estate? The pub next door? Are our relationships (as an organisation) with these people loving and cooperative, or frustrated and confrontational? How can we serve these organisations without compromising our own values?
Our relationship with God should be at the heart of all the church does- not just our personal relationships, but corporately too. The nation of Israel made a covenant with God, and when they broke it the nation was punished, not just individuals. God wants us to work together- not just within our parish churches or circuits, but nationally and trans-denominationally as well. If the church is to transform the world- starting, but not stopping with ourselves- we need to work together.
And ultimately I think that's what people will find attractive: a community that does its best to love each other and to treat each other fairly, and that loves and treats outsiders fairly too. It's tough, but God's with us. Let's have a go.
Incidentally, does anyone else find it amusing (and perhaps revealing) that of the two highest people in the Church of England are both from outside it- Rowan of Canterbury is from the Church of Wales, Sentamu of York is from Uganda. I wonder what that says about the C of E?
* I'm neither criticising nor defending these things- here at least- just cataloguing some of the ways outsiders- the "unchurched" -see the church as out of touch.
How do you decide that a cause or an organisation is attractive, and worthy of your attention? Surely it's in much the same way (although physical looks probably don't come into it!). It's something you feel is worth committing time and money to, something you agree with.
What makes the Church (or Christianity, if you wish) attractive? What are the things about it that make us decide it's worthy of our attention, our commitment, our time and money? What makes it worthwhile? What is the church for?
I don't think this is a question many people within the church ask themselves. To them, the church is the church, it's what they do on Sunday mornings (or whenever). I don't think the question is exactly the same as "What are Christians for?" although it's related. So many churchgoers think the church is just there for them, and don't consider its wider mission in the world.
The early church was composed of groups (probably quite small) meeting in people's homes. They would meet, it seems, to worship and pray and learn from the scriptures and the Spirit about God. And largely that's what we still do in our churches today, I suppose. But back then, in the first century, the church was growing rapidly. Even though there was no support from the state, or an organised bureaucracy, even though they were often being persecuted, the church grew. The same is true today in places like China. But why? What made these groups of people attractive?
I don't know. Having grown up within the church I find it hard to imagine what it's like to view it from outside. If you're someone from outside with views, I'd like to know what you think. To be honest, with the kind of publicity the Western church gets (much of it, unfortunately, justified though unbalanced) I find it hard to see why anyone would find it attractive. For so long the church took it for granted that everyone was within it that it didn't have to worry about being attractive. So now, in an environment where most people are outside and not even interested, there's a problem. Why would anyone be interested in a bunch of elderly, out of touch, guitar (or organ pipe) wielding and above all bickering weirdos? So many people see the church as stuck in the past, advocating ideas that seem behind the times (such as being against sex before marriage, homosexuality, contraception, abortion, equality for women- the list goes on)*. What's attractive about that?
But turn that around...at its best the church is a community of people who have and abide by a set of values, standards which are more important to them than just saying "whatever I want is right." That, in our current culture, is radically different. It stands out. Maybe it would make the church attractive- if we can get the message across.
I read this on the WordLive site for 11th Dec last year: "I have a suspicion that the same thing God finds so detestable is the very thing that keeps many from finding faith in Jesus: a Church that seems so wrapped up in keeping up holy appearances that it forgets its mandate to promote justice and love its neighbours as itself." Alistair Metcalfe.
What about this mandate? Do we pay it much notice? Oh, maybe we buy fairtrade coffee, and pray for those who are persecuted, but do we actually see it as our mission to "promote justice"? Not just individually, but as a church. High-up churchmen and women tend to be criticised for speaking out against things which they consider wrong, but really, that's their job. Like Old Testament prophets the church has to speak out where she sees things being done which God hates. She cannot keep silent. Are we committed to a prophetic ministry? Do we support and encourage our leaders to take such steps? Do we pray for them to have the courage to speak out? Do we ourselves speak out when confronted with injustice at work, or among our friends?
Loving our neighbours is probably better done, yet while helping the homeless, the poor, the ill, is relatively widespread, does the church consider loving its neighbours in, say, the city (or parish) council? Or the local mosque? The council estate? The pub next door? Are our relationships (as an organisation) with these people loving and cooperative, or frustrated and confrontational? How can we serve these organisations without compromising our own values?
Our relationship with God should be at the heart of all the church does- not just our personal relationships, but corporately too. The nation of Israel made a covenant with God, and when they broke it the nation was punished, not just individuals. God wants us to work together- not just within our parish churches or circuits, but nationally and trans-denominationally as well. If the church is to transform the world- starting, but not stopping with ourselves- we need to work together.
And ultimately I think that's what people will find attractive: a community that does its best to love each other and to treat each other fairly, and that loves and treats outsiders fairly too. It's tough, but God's with us. Let's have a go.
Incidentally, does anyone else find it amusing (and perhaps revealing) that of the two highest people in the Church of England are both from outside it- Rowan of Canterbury is from the Church of Wales, Sentamu of York is from Uganda. I wonder what that says about the C of E?
* I'm neither criticising nor defending these things- here at least- just cataloguing some of the ways outsiders- the "unchurched" -see the church as out of touch.
Friday 2 January 2009
The obligatory "New Year" post.
Welcome to 2009. How's it been for you so far? A lot like last year? Strange. What? You're thinking the new year is just another excuse for a party? Surely not! Lots of things have changed, like...er...like...the date.
Why do we love dividing time up? Is it just an excuse for a party? Is it so that by breaking it down into measurable and manageable chunks we can pretend that we can control Time, that fearsome and incomprehensible entity? "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" (Matt 6v27)
Is it so that we can breathe a sigh of relief that what may have been a problematic time is over, and vow to make a "fresh start?" Is it so that we can hope that "next year things will be better?"
2008 (and indeed the last month or so of 2007) wasn't the greatest year for me. There were good bits, and things I enjoyed, like spending time with my friends, singing in concerts and productions. But there were also disappointments- the fact that it rained nearly all my holidays, failures to get at decent job, being turned away from things I wanted to do because of people's opinions about me. There was confusion at times when I wasn't sure whether I was on the right track or what I should be doing about it. There were times when I've felt stuck in a rut, pigeon-holed by other people's opinions about who I am and unable to break out and do what I want, to use all my gifts, to live to my full potential. There were difficult relationships with other people, some breaking down for personal reasons while others were hard to keep up because of distance or busyness or lack of communication. I worried (and still do) about friends with their own problems, longing to help them but not having the words or the ways. Sometimes I felt so helpless as friends with health or emotional or employment struggles just couldn't see a way out. There were times when I just felt rubbish about myself, as if I wasn't worth anything, fed up that no matter what I tried to do, whether it was a job, singing or something at church there was always someone better than me, more qualified than me, more experienced than me. And I wasn't even able to feel angry that someone else had got a chance instead of me- because I knew they deserved it, and I didn't.
2008 feels like it's had more questions than answers, more calls to trust God than visible results of doing so. But I've still kept hold of that hope that someday things will be better, that the things I long for and pray for will happen (because some of them have). Life's on earth's never going to be perfect, I know. Especially the Christian life. Doing the right thing (in my case, what God wants) seems to mean in so many cases facing up to trouble, and yet not doing it ends up creating more trouble in the end. So in many ways I am hoping 2009 will be better. But most of all I'm hoping that I can keep trusting God, whatever happens, because I know he knows better than I do. A few answers would be nice! Sometimes I wonder if I'm missing something obvious...But ultimately "time is fleeting" and one day it'll all make sense. Until then I'll hold on to the hope that I have, because sometimes it's all I've got to hold on to.
Happy New Year to you all.
Why do we love dividing time up? Is it just an excuse for a party? Is it so that by breaking it down into measurable and manageable chunks we can pretend that we can control Time, that fearsome and incomprehensible entity? "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" (Matt 6v27)
Is it so that we can breathe a sigh of relief that what may have been a problematic time is over, and vow to make a "fresh start?" Is it so that we can hope that "next year things will be better?"
2008 (and indeed the last month or so of 2007) wasn't the greatest year for me. There were good bits, and things I enjoyed, like spending time with my friends, singing in concerts and productions. But there were also disappointments- the fact that it rained nearly all my holidays, failures to get at decent job, being turned away from things I wanted to do because of people's opinions about me. There was confusion at times when I wasn't sure whether I was on the right track or what I should be doing about it. There were times when I've felt stuck in a rut, pigeon-holed by other people's opinions about who I am and unable to break out and do what I want, to use all my gifts, to live to my full potential. There were difficult relationships with other people, some breaking down for personal reasons while others were hard to keep up because of distance or busyness or lack of communication. I worried (and still do) about friends with their own problems, longing to help them but not having the words or the ways. Sometimes I felt so helpless as friends with health or emotional or employment struggles just couldn't see a way out. There were times when I just felt rubbish about myself, as if I wasn't worth anything, fed up that no matter what I tried to do, whether it was a job, singing or something at church there was always someone better than me, more qualified than me, more experienced than me. And I wasn't even able to feel angry that someone else had got a chance instead of me- because I knew they deserved it, and I didn't.
2008 feels like it's had more questions than answers, more calls to trust God than visible results of doing so. But I've still kept hold of that hope that someday things will be better, that the things I long for and pray for will happen (because some of them have). Life's on earth's never going to be perfect, I know. Especially the Christian life. Doing the right thing (in my case, what God wants) seems to mean in so many cases facing up to trouble, and yet not doing it ends up creating more trouble in the end. So in many ways I am hoping 2009 will be better. But most of all I'm hoping that I can keep trusting God, whatever happens, because I know he knows better than I do. A few answers would be nice! Sometimes I wonder if I'm missing something obvious...But ultimately "time is fleeting" and one day it'll all make sense. Until then I'll hold on to the hope that I have, because sometimes it's all I've got to hold on to.
Happy New Year to you all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)