A Hopeful Reminder: each lonely butterfly

The last few blogs of mine have been a bit gloomy and questioning - how can faith be set free? how can we address the knowledge inequality? how can we address the gender politics of faith and church etc.? So I return to the first posting on this blog, the explanation for the blog's name, where science's "chaos theory" and theology's "kairos" come together; a reminder of the idea of the lonely butterfly causing a hurricane in another part of the world, or perhaps of a lonely butterfly contributing to the downfall of apartheid ... or something else today. I do get anxious about the churches, our struggle to address the big political issues, our difficulty to see the world of faith in terms of strategies for dismantling systems of domination. But I should remind myself to be hopeful. We're not alone. We have anti-racist butterflies on our side!

Addressing the captivity of faith

I'm going to be a bit presumptuous, so forgive me. But it seems to me that we in the churches have a problem. That claim in itself is nothing new, but my particular emphasis is this: that our 'western presuppositions' are so focused on the individual, that we find our faith held captive. This, too, is not a new claim - it has been said before that the individual's faith-opinion has become dangerously privatised, shaving off its awkwardly public implications, especially the need to live our faith confidently in public - but I particularly observe this problem as being a problem with our political lives. People are happy with practisiong their faith as indidivuals who are basically called to be nice, tolerant, peaceful, respectful - values which happen also to reflect the values of western secularism! - and to gather together with like-minded practitioners for uncritical "fellowship", to affirm our faith in the face of a suspicious world. But any talk of faith as a social enterprise, something which exists between people - as well as privatised within an individual's mind and life - or as something which addresses the dominant social structures and assumptions and norms of our everyday world, is crazy-talk which people find hard to hear. And it's not that people won't "apply" the prophetic traditions of justice to specific situations - people will accept that faith "has political implications"; rather, it is a non-acceptance of faith's inherently political nature. How, then, are we to speak honestly, and to live openly, with regards to faith as a special kind of social imagining, a "way of being" which sees, and hears, and celebrates, and criticises the relationships of the world in a particular light? How are we to address the captivity of faith, if we are so used to its being captive that we do not even see it? Orwell says (and I arrogantly use his quote here): "Unless they become conscious they can never rebel, but until after they have rebelled they can never become conscious." This, then, is the point of discipleship - action and reflection together; but if people don't want it, because it sounds too alien to our western lives, what are we to do? How can we set faith free?

Knowledge Inequality

It's another area of injustice, which can feel as deep and problematic and oppressive as the inequality between the economically rich and the economically poor. If it is true, as I believe it is, that the economic inequality is at the root of so much of the world's conflicts and dilemmas - ranging from the conflicts over finite natural resources, corruption in governments, and the life-chances of people growing up in so-called "sink estates" - then it is possible that there is truth in this claim: that the 'knowledge inequality' between those who have benefited from education to a further extent than many others, may equally be a cause of real conflict and strain. But just as the economic inequality is a problem for the rich as well as for the poor, so the knowledge inequality is a problem for the so-called knowledgable - there is a sense in which it can operate like a burden. Let me explain - thinking especially about a church context. I've only been in church ministry for 4 years, but from very early on, it was evident that there was a real gap between the 'theological knowledge' of the academy, scholarship which had been around for decades, and the knowledge of most people in churches. And it is the responsibility of a church's leaders. But still after 4 years it remains the case. So have I failed to pass on what I have been taught? Even things as basic as the authorship of the 4 biblical Gospels, or some general level of appreciation of church history ... it's often just not there. But let me be clear - I'm not attacking people for their ignorance, but the 'system' of churchy-ness and ministry which fosters this inequality. And it does matter, because it gets in the way of honesty between leaders and members; it gets in the way of honest discussion about mission priorities; it gets in the way of personal and corporate spiritual development, as well as engagement with a thoughtful world. (Incidentally, I'm aware that such 'knowledge' is by no means the be-all, and that people have other kinds of knowledge which matters at least as much; but in terms of getting to grips with our story, who we are, what our purpose is, these issues are essential.) So what are we to do about it? A small discussion group, which gets scared by certain things, doesn't seem to be enough ... so how do we address the knowledge inequality?

Renewal / New wineskins

There's a lot of it about. Renewal is in the air. The Government is talking about it - though different people mean different things by it ... does it mean Gordon Brown, does it mean revising policy, does it mean speaking to the anxieties of the day, does it mean generating solutions tio the big questions of the world, does it mean 'anything but Tony'??? Renewal is a great idea, but very slippery. And so it is with the churches, too. Presumably the many people who have been leaving the churches in recent years mean a whole range of things by their voting-with-their-feet - they may mean that renewal should involve 'becoming less wishy-washy', or others (hopefully!) mean that churchy-ness should start to re-engage them in a way that relates to real lives in the real world. When I say 'hopefully', I don't mean "I hope that has been the churches' failure"! I mean, "I hope that is people's analysis, because it happens to fit with mine!" We all have our agendas, don't we! So how should we renew? It can't be avoided that many growing churches, in the 'west' and in the 'south'/developing world, are 'conservative' - i.e. their 'new wine' message is very traditional, and in many ways quite old! (though the wineskins are changing). So for those of us who find ourselves drinking a different wine, we must revitalise this commitment to new wine as that which brings about "genuine" renewal - but what is it? Isn't it very much to do with "where peace is taking root", "where the hungry are fed", "where equality and dignity are upheld", "where justice is done"? But what do they mean? Social democracy? Or something distinct again?

In search of "balance" (in gender politics etc.)

The story of Jesus visiting two sisters, Martha and Mary (in Luke, chapter 10: verses 38-42), prompts big questions! On the one hand, it's about a teacher dropping in for a cuppa. But on the other hand, it's much more than that - because when Jesus tells Martha to stop fussing (she's busy 'being hospitable', as expected of her), and that she should be with her sister to hear his teaching, there is a double-edge here - not least because of how we read it. I have in mind its gender politics. For is it a man-thing, disproportionately, to revel in this story's critique of busy-ness, as it is all too easy for us to criticise the woman for being busy, since men might often be in the front room with the guest ...? And is it a woman-thing, disproportionately, to feel affronted by this criticism: for busyness is how women are conditioned to be (because of patriarchy)? Of course, such claims risk being overly general; but if there is even an ounce of truth in them, then there is an ideological problem here. On the one hand, Jesus is colluding with male-projected norms - 'it's better to think and learn than to be busy being hospitable' (is it?) - and yet on the other hand, is he commending Mary for subverting the gender roles? Is she a trailblazer for renewing women’s 'roles'?! Whichever it is, it reminds us to be mindful of gender politics – not least because of the need for 'balance'. After all, Luke places this story in the wake of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, so presumably he does not mean us to devalue action. Rather, in order to be Good Samaritans, we may have to subvert our socio-cultural assumptions and expectations, including gender 'roles', to do serious thinking "with Jesus" - and this thinking/acting balance requires constant renewal. And I have, no doubt, overlooked some of my own unconscious orthodoxies, and betrayed some of my own complicity with patriarchy, by how I have explored this double-edged story. So help me too …

Yet more on "1984" - Going barefoot

The telescreens, in Orwell's slightly prophetic satire, churn out all kinds of statistic and facts asserting the effectiveness of Big Brother's regime. One example is fantastic. The people are told how many boots have been produced, and it's always more than how many were projected to be made, showing that Big Brother's methods are even greater than their goals - though sometimes the records of earlier reports have to be revised (secretly) because the goals often exceed the outcomes, and such discrepancies between one reality and another aren't permitted ... but then comes the shattering thought of Winston, the hero: "Very likely no boots had been produced at all. All one knew was that every quarter, astronomical numbers of boots were produced on paper, while perhaps half the population went barefoot." And the people don't question it. It's a bit like globalisation, is it, with countless tonnes of commodities being overproduced while millions go hungry, but still the sheer gap between one reality and another remains awesome. What does it take, then, for those of us with shoes to put ourselves in the non-shoes of others? How might we take off our sandals before walking on the sacred space of other peoples? How can faith communities be at the forefront of this movement to engage with reality - not least, the all-pervasive challenge of inequality, with its morally compelling calls for transformation? After all, we don't live under Big Brother - no matter how much our satiricists might say we do, we remain free to make a real difference. While others go 'barefoot', we must then act.

More on "1984" - Staying Sane?

Orwell describes the situation of his hero,Winston, like this: 'He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would hear. But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken. It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.' Of course, once again, it is easy to over-play our connection with such a situation - after all, we love to be the hero(ine), don't we (or do I speak for myself only?)?!! But speaking in terms of Christian discipleship, there seems to be something poignant in this idea: for the radical critiques of the Powers made possible by Jesus, and the radical ways of transformation energised by his example, certainly seem to be silent or silenced in the face of the sheer weight and inertia of the status quo - whether it is a totalitarian regime, or a reactionary society, or we are enthralled by the politics of fear. All we can do, in the face of it all, is quietly utter our truths, such that we "stay sane". This obviously isn't about resisting mental illness, because as others have observed, who is to say whether mentally ill people aren't more open to "the truth" than the silent majority doing what we do? Instead, the kind of sanity he celebrates is simply that commitment to reality - especially in the face of the pressures to ignore it. In terms of discipleship within our churches, this can often feel counter-cultural, since there is often something "unreal" about the corporate practice of religion - and yet the possibility remains ... and sanity demands that I see my own fears, insanities and logs in my eyes.

I'm reading "1984" self-righteously! Help me!

George Orwell's book is exciting me - and I'm finding myself inhabiting its world, where a totalitarian regime, "Big Brother", does not merely host a few housemates for 13 weeks, but governs and monitors the lives of the whole nation. As Winston sees it, in the story, the only privacy he has is limited to the few centimetres squared inside his head! And even that is under threat, as the newly constructed language 'Newspeak' sets out to squeeze the number of words, so that Thought itself will be increasingly limited and confined. But I'm all too aware that this sharp political satire is giving me tools for criticising things outside of myself - the 'orthodoxies' to which other people are attached unconsciously; the way other people exercise "doublethink", simultaneously believing 'two contradictory opinions which cancel each other out'; the way the world outside of me directs its discontentment towards petty grievances rather than focusing on the larger evils of genuine poverty, prejudice and oppression. But might it be possible that I too am in the thralls of an orthodoxy which obscures me from particular oppressive realities? Might I too be complicit in doublethink, aware of my privileges but not quite committed to risking their end? Could it be true ...?