kairostheory

Coalitions and coalitions

2010-07-14T21:43:00.002Z

We're living in strange but interesting times - though 'interesting' is hardly the word for the hundreds of thousands of people out of work or set to lose work, as the budget cuts do their worst. Still, though, the Labour Party is struggling to come to terms with the new political world: a Con-Lib coalition means things have actually changed, not merely in pragmatic, 'we have to stick together or we die together' terms, but more fundamentally - the world of public compromise is not the same as the kind of compromise that goes on within political parties. Labour won't win simply by trying to pick off people on the edges of the coalition or teasing away at the cracks - it actually needs new strategies. And not least because the wider world is weird - there's less money to solve the huge problems we continue to face (tackling climate change needs money; tackling poverty, at home and abroad, needs money; tackling the hearts and minds of potential terrorists needs money; etc), and yet at the same time money was found to support the banks - and I'm not saying it shouldn't have been found (I believe it was necessary, to avert a far deeper economic catastrophe), but I am saying that, if money can be found for that, the political will ought to be capable of being organised for other purposes ...

So we need alternative coalitions. Like Avaaz. Like '38 Degrees', a newer web-based campaigning organisation. We need coalitions capable of keeping the pressure where it ought to be kept - of speaking truth to power, so that we're not co-opted into lies that some kinds of debt are unaffordable (public budget deficits) while other kinds of indebtedness (to the needs of future generations) are evidently inevitable. Of course the level of debt needs to be reduced, but even the Tories realise that this cannot be their sole raison d'etre - and it is the role of alternative coalitions to keep the dreams alive of changes which are more humane. Just because money is short, job security is in short supply, and we are living in generally anxious times, that does not mean the age of dreaming new dreams or campaigning for something better need come to an end. The kind of coalition we build determines the kind of world we believe is possible.

Mission - to boldly go (and all that jazz)

2009-11-20T17:28:00.003Z

What is the Mission of the Church? Yes, evangelism (sharing good news in words). Yes, justice and service (sharing good news in actions). Yes, caring for all God's creation. Yes, enabling people to fulfil their God-given potential. Yes, nurturing the skills of discipleship in those who seek to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, that is, enabling each other to be active participants in the everyday business of bringing God's 'kingdom' about on earth - fostering the strategies which Jesus taught, of loving enemies, turning the other cheek, extending hospitality and friendship to those regarded as 'unworthy', resisting the temptation to dominate or exclude, practising excessive compassion, and so on. All of those things have a ring of truth about them, but also more than a hint of difficulty. But I'm not sure any of them can be sustained without another human and biblical art - that of dreaming! We must be bold in our dreaming. Too often we neglect this. Evangelical churches find it easier, in the sense that they have a confidence about the scope of their message - but progressives ought to have plenty to dream about too! So be bold: dream of a church which signals an alternative reality, which is unashamed about its hopes for a different quality of future, where the hungry are fed, where those humbled by globalisation are blessed by the dignity of human worth, where the 'last' are put 'first', where children and the vulnerable take centre-stage, where the violent and prejudiced ways-of-the-world are no longer seen as inevitable, and where all of us know our value through relationship with each other. be bold - dream of it - and the living of the dream may just inspire others to take a look ...

I wouldn't start from here ...

2009-05-22T15:40:00.003Z

It must be said a lot, but if I was going to build the kind of Christian community I suspect we're called to be, "I wouldn't start from here"! And as soon as I write it, I'm acutely aware of the arrogance of such a comment - how dare I think that I know better! And how dare I belittle the efforts of people over the recent decades, often struggling against the odds. But there remains a problem: It's genuinely hard to see how we can move our existing church communities from 'where we are' to a point where we are 'ahead of the curve', as though we could even be 'ready' for this changing world as it comes round the corner toward us. Churches are so laden with layers of cultural accretions, things which seem so self-evident to insiders, things which define people's sense of spiritual safety and identity, that it's so hard to 'see' with other eyes, to see how little some of our 'stuff' connects with people in our neighbourhoods, even those who wish us well.
Look back into the 'original' stories of Christian discipleship, and you encounter a radical message and movement of life-changing awe and vitality, but much of it feels overwhelmed by churchy expectations - things into which people have been socialised and which have conditioned their growth (e.g. the idea that worship needs to be fairly formal, non-disruptive, even though some of the most life-changing growth happens through informality and disruption!)
So how do we unearth the church's true treasures? Well, we must begin by celebrating what is truly remarkable - the commitment of people who, against tough odds, have kept things going, even if 'keeping things going' has dominated other, more liberating purposes - and we must value people's different gifts, and reconnect people with their diversity, the differences between people who are already in churches, so we can begin to see how people not in churches are also very varied, and therefore in need of a range of ways of exploring faith and discipleship.
In fact, of course, there's no such thing as 'not starting from here', except in those self-deceiving spiritualities which pretend truth is always transcendent and never anything to do with our own experience; but we'd better get better at seeing where 'here' is - by asking ourselves, 'where are we up to? what do we think we're playing at? where are we in relation to the world around us? who is around us? and what are we for, anyway?' In other words, it's time to become highly attentive to whichever 'here' we're starting from, otherwise we'll never get 'there'...

I know a man who knows Obama! (name drop)

2008-11-07T17:07:00.002Z

I recently attended the best training course I have ever attended, covering so many life-changing ideas and issues in a four-day period. It was led by the man who trained Barack Obama in community organising, and it was a rollercoaster ride! We already see the fruits of the method, with Obama having not only become the first black President of the US, but having done so through building a broad-based coalition of people, many of whom had never given to any such campaign or who had never thought politics was about them. Politics is about everyone. I knew this before, but I meet many people who doubt that it has much to do with them. In fact, as the training course made clear, we have been led over several decades to retreat from the public arena, our lives preoccupied with almost anything other than public/political engagement - after all, power is dirty, isn't it, and corrupting, and politics is always disappointing, so why get into such a world? Well, because it's where things change. So I am thinking more and more that I should reclaim a public life, that my commitments and values should be demonstrated publicly - and I don't just mean the things of faith, but support for Amnesty, or fairtrade, or sustainable bio-diversity - all these things are matters of public concern. And, even more frightening, I recognise that it is Ok to have ambitions for public influence: that we are entitled, and called, to want to build public relationships, and broad-based coalitions of people, with a view to making changes for the sake of justice and peace. Too many people believe such talk is naive, or 'getting above ourselves', because of countless disappointments or how we are conditioned to be cynical, but progressive values, and progressive Christian values, need to be realised in the public realm - but what this means for me, or you, or our communities, I'm not yet quite sure, but watch this space, because, in answer to the questions, 'can we really do it?', all we can say is, 'Yes we can.'

When it's hard to show care ...

2008-10-03T16:43:00.003Z

There are some people I find it really hard to show care to. Even though stuff happens to them, real shit, often again and again, sometimes I find it really hard to put myself in the position of the person offering care. The problem is that, whenever I visit or meet such people, I want to disagree with so much of what they say, and to challenge so many of their attitudes, that I find it really hard to concentrate, simply to listen to what they say in its own right. And there are people who seem to co-opt you into their world-view, who assume (by your silence) that you agree with them, that you know they are likely then to quote you as reinforcement for their view - even if you said nothing. Or to bring it back to me - even though I said nothing. But is that the very nature of care? We can't always control how it will be used. It will sometimes be draining. It will sometimes put us profoundly on the defensive; but we must simply listen and bear it.

And yet ... because there are times when we know it will be so hard, I can't help feeling that there's nothing wrong (at least some of the time) with not putting ourselves in that position. If I know I won't be much use in a particular situation, why put myself there?

And yet ... who am I to know whether I'll be useful or not? People will find my presence useful, and helpful, perhaps more than I'd have imagined, so long as I don't answer back! Oh, but god I need to be able to acknowledge when it's hard to show care ... you know the kind of person?

Chaos/Kairos Theory & Climate Change

2008-07-24T22:02:00.002Z

It was one of the first posts on this blog - an explanation of the chaos/kairos connection, in the sense that, if a butterfly flapping its wings might be an initial cause of a hurricane on the other side of the world, so a small thing can be an indication of God's kairos-action - the opportune event which changes the course of reality. So it is that Climate Change can be read this way: not as God's action, but as having that profoundly unpredictable cause-and-effect dynamic - by which I mean, not that we can't comprehend its causes or predict its effects, because so much of it is frighteningly clear (the rich world has caused it, but the poor world will suffer more), but that the effects of climate change are sure to be somewhat chaotic. There will be unpredictable weather events, and shocking levels of suffering - and yet we continue to resist seeing this as a crisis (kairos) moment, rather as a continuation of chronos (normal time), whereas it is essential that green politics, individual behaviour, ecological consciousness and so on should become integrated and we seize this kairos - opportunity for radical lifestyle change/s - with both wings flapping.

One world - can we see it now?

2008-07-08T09:32:00.002Z

Time for a self-righteous rant ... Food becomes more expensive, as oil costs increase, because of increases in demand, because China and India develop more western-style economies - and we can't complain, because it's how we live, consuming as though fossil fuels will last forever, consuming as though we inhabit three Earths, not one. It's also because of the pressure on land, because of increasing demand for beef, as China develops more western tastes, and cows need a hell of a lot of grain, taking up land which would otherwise be used directly for human food production - and again, we can't complain, because it's how we live, consuming as though it doesn't matter how much food we throw away, consuming as though we inhabit three Earths, not one. We thought biofuels were the answer, shifting from carbon, but they use valuable land, and aren't so bio-efficient after all - and have in fact fuelled food price increases. So the world is one, and we must learn to live as one, which means embracing green politics for hard-headed reasons, not to hug a tree, but also for big-hearted reasons, caring about those who are starving (more of them) because of food prices rising, also because of climate change spreading deserts and disease - so now is not the time to turn to the right, as though free markets will solve it all (just look at the reckless banks, demanding public help, though usually they demand to be left alone!), but to the left, to State intervention, to being led by governments on the environment (if only they will lead), and to solutions which we will resent - curbing transport growth, preaching against waste, even moving away from such a meat-oriented diet ... if only we (including me) have eyes to see ... do we? (except I like my car, my steak, my shirts, my freedoms ... hm!)

Letting go ...

2008-05-04T19:08:00.002Z

(Excuse the presumptuousness of this, but I thought it might be fun to pretend to be Jesus for a moment...)
Dear Disciples,
It's time you let go. That's why I left you - you know, as you described it, how I 'ascended into heaven', which I guess was your way of handling how I'm there but not there ... Anyway, it's a really important thing for you to appreciate: that discipleship involves letting go; that following me involves not holding on to me; that learning from me involves beginning to teach each other. After all, I never wanted you to be totally dependent on me - though I've clearly given you resources, symbolic actions, and I've nurtured in you distinctive kinds of attitudes - political strategies, in terms of including the excluded, being in solidarity with the least and the last - and it's not always been easy. But now, now you must get on with it, you must live it, you must be my witnesses, carry on the message, demonstrate God's kingdom ... You must 'let go' of things being just as you want them, or other people being as you perceive them, and you must learn to see with new eyes, to hear with renewable ears, to speak with the words of those who are not usually heard, letting go of security, self-preservation, a concern with your own desires, daring to believe instead that a new world is created - or the old is renewed - only if you let go, not only of me as you would 'own' me, but of each other, and of the Gospel, letting go of it that you might learn to receive it again and again, from the most unexpected people ... so ... let go!
love
Jesus.
(again, excuse the presumptuousness, as I try to let go of any pretensions!)

The power of Metaphors

2007-11-01T12:36:00.000Z

Ironically, Christians who are often more sceptical about the dominance of science are also more committed to so-called 'literal' readings of the Bible. I say 'ironically', because this obsession with things having to be literally true is partly the result of the scientific empirical method - the belief that things should be capable of being pinned down, so that we know what we mean. (It is also ironic, incidentally, because science itself is increasingly conscious of its own use of metaphors - string theory, black holes, etc are all metaphors.) What is often not appreciated is the way in which metaphorical readings of texts are in effect the only way to make sense of them! For example, a literal reading of "God is my rock" produces absurd and contradictory beliefs - God is steadfast, sure, but God is also cold and hard!
A metaphor works by playing creatively with two sets of ideas, critically allowing for truth and untruth to sit happily together - so the various explanations of the effectiveness of Jesus' death on the cross only work as metaphors: if any one if pushed to its literal limits, it begs too many questions about the nature of God and God's actions. Instead, each one points to valuable insights, but not the whole truth in itself. So yes, God is angry with the awfulness of sin, and God's sense of justice needs to be met - but don't push this too far, because it needs counterbalancing with God's scandalous love and mercy, God's free gift of forgiveness, and the recognition that the death came about because of gritty political reasons - Jesus had provoked the powers-that-be to crush him, thinking that their overwhelming violence would be the last word. But it was not - his death became a victory, by absorbing even the worst that the System can do (of which we are all a part), without resorting to the System's methods (of violence, domination, retaliation), breaking the cycles by exposing them and ultimately allowing the System to be judged and undone by its own excesses.
Of course, each of us has our preferences - some metaphors ring more true than others - but the power of them is the way they point to things beyond our comfort zones, to truths which explode our assumptions and un-do our participation in wider social practices. For the power of a metaphor is particularly in its demand that we should not pin the truth down within us, but should be open to those other insights we prefer to demonise. I must hear my own sermon!

Hope is where your arse is

2007-08-28T11:19:00.000Z

It's a quote from Phillip Berrigan, an American priest and activist, as conveyed by Ched Myers, a scholar-activist, at this year's Greenbelt - a Christian arts festival in Cheltenham. It doesn't work in an English accent - but it sounds great in an American one: "Hope is where your arse is." The point is that, rather than being found within a Christian holy huddle, or in our individual longings for heaven, Hope is where we put ourselves, in our daily lives, in God's messy world. Hope is what we do, through our lived realities. Hope is how we approach life, how we practice faith, how we get stuck in with addressing the challenges and struggles of those who are most vulnerable. Hope is false if it ignores or hides from or belittles the pain of real life; and Hope is therefore false if your "arse" (your bodily being) is located aloof from people's pain. "Christian discipleship is like real estate," Ched said: "it's about location, location, location." After all, where did Jesus put himself? Not in the nice places, not with the "nice" people, neither with a sword in his hand, ready to mirror the brutalities of the System which violated the vulnerable, nor behind closed doors, but touching the untouchable, living savingly with "the least". This is what "body politics" is about - where do we put ourselves? - so to be the "body" of Christ today, be where Christ would be. A far cry from the "virtual" worlds we often live in, this is certainly a demanding way to be ... so for now, I'll sit just have a nice sit and a think about how other people should live like that!

Walking through walls

2007-07-31T14:55:00.000Z

Prague is an interesting city. Whether you see it as the "city of 100 spires" or the city of the never-ending stag-night, you can't escape the amazing mix of fantastic old buildings and of people. There is both the very ancient - long before the brave stories of early Reformers burnt at the stake or "defenestrated" (thrown out of windows!) - and the very new, with all the High Street shops you'd expect to see in the UK, and this fascinating wall reminding us that, when people were under Soviet rule, they were attracted to John Lennon, the peace-lover. A game of cat and mouse ensued, as the wall was covered with messages of peace and then whitewashed by the authorities, but now it remains - with Lennon's head coming through to meet us ... Overturning totalitarian governments, or making world peace, is somewhat like walking through walls: it's just not something that happens ... is it? And yet it is. Again I find myself drawn to the distinction between optimism (which can naively pretend the walls don't exist) and pessimism (which gloomily sees only the obstacle) - and to the conviction that Hope is far more radical than mere optimism, because it sees the wall squarely, head-on, for all its utter concreteness (the stubbornness of societal systems, of human attitudes, of violence and division), but still determines to walk through it, whatever the cost. So let's get to it - let's walk through walls.

Christians and the extremist threat

2007-07-03T09:30:00.000Z

So, more bombs. Interestingly, though, the media are increasingly airing the views of Muslims who have been part of the so-called Jihadist networks but who walked away. They seem to emphasise that western foreign policy only aggravates the issue; that the crux of the matter is the state of Islamic theology; that moderates have left a vacuum of ideas which the radicals exploit and fill successfully. Critically, when questioned about this, one described the matter as one in which scholars fail to explain the context of those Quranic texts which urge violence on unbelievers. That is, the jihadists are justifying themselves faithfully with regards to ancient texts written at a time of real tension between Islam and 'the world': so their ongoing struggle has its own internal logic. Christians must learn from this - 1) by not leaving a vacuum of ideas into which the noisy fundamentalists can move; 2) which means debating strongly the question of biblical contextualisation - i.e. the idea that the Bible itself was written in certain historical contexts; that the idea of 'timeless' truths is a dangerous denial of God's concern with the particular moment. And it's not even that we can claim that Christian 'extremists' are innocent of violent outcomes, since their theologies not only underpin the space which allows for conflict in the Middle East, notably Israel/Palestine, but without seeing biblical texts in context, they also continue to preach prejudice and excuse various kinds of marginalisation. We must therefore ensure that progressive theology is spoken and lived - to take on the bibliolatry of those who refuse to put things in context.

A story with resonance - yes and no

2007-06-02T13:34:00.001Z

Manchester passion
Originally uploaded by Lees Street

At last - I've put a photo on to my blog! And it is the photo used to promote the Manchester Passion, when the BBC produced the story of Christ's passion using the locations of Manchester city centre and the songs of Mancunian artists. The most powerful moment ... when Jesus sang "Those who find themselves ridiculous, siddown next to me" (from the James song). It's a profound insight into the Jesus movement - it is a ridiculous way of life - and yet we often seem to act as though other people are weird for not joining in with us, or seem bemused when we're thought of as abnormal. It was great to be there, to hear the story in music and imagery of my cultural context - which made it all seem 'cool' again - yet I am also aware how 'ridiculous' it is. Yes, he was certainly a social radical, but I should take care co-opting a cool Jesus for my cultural references. Yes, we should do contextual theology - or, rather, we should realise that we do it, even if we don't mean to! - because we speak out of a context, including in our God-talk. But, like a metaphor, it is important to keep alive the 'truth' and 'untruth' of any connection - the passion of Christ has universal resonance, but also its own desperate particularity; the person of Jesus is distinct, but also has things in common with other great figures; he takes sides with radical reformers even today, but is not quite the same as any of them. What this means is, we must never be complacent - however ridiculous that is.

A Climate for Debate

2007-05-08T20:01:00.000Z

I'll refer to it as an example - but to do so, I have to spell out the importance of the issue: Climate Change. It's high time we in the churches got serious about science, not so that we simply accept whatever scientists say or do (because there are issues which call for ethical guidance as well as theological frameworks), but certainly so that we at least appreciate the seriousness with which science is undertaken. For it seems that many 'religionists' treat science as though it is 'mere propaganda', a distorted mindset, whereas its strict method and due sense of openness to ongoing discovery mean that it ought to be better described as the exposure of propaganda. The scientific method requires evidence, tested and tested - so when well over 90% of relevant scientists tell us that it is virtually certain that warmer climates are going to suffer more famines, more insect outbreaks, more deaths due to a 2 degree rise in temperature, certainly exacerbated by human activity, then we should listen - and although Britain itself can possibly afford to delay, we should be far more concerned about those who cannot afford to do so. Poorer people will suffer more. What this requires is a "climate of debate", i) with Christian communities daring to give more time to the big issues facing humanity than to the details of church preservation, ii) with us supporting each other to discover ways of tackling the issues in our daily lives - to help us live sustainably, how we might address our own consumerism and wastefulness, and iii) with us learning how to converse with other disciplines and other communities ... but instead, we preoccupy ourselves with churchiness and talk to ourselves, hiding fearfully behind our walls, or no better, behind doctrinal assertions. I suspect God is no respecter of such walls or assertions, when a climate of debate and conversation demands lives which dare to imagine a different future.

Political Faith - duh!

2007-05-01T22:18:00.000Z

The one thing that really holds me back from being very vocal about the need for Christians to be proactively political, is the thought that some Christians who are already proactively political are scarily reactionary! At the time of writing this piece, the ekklesia news-feeds on this blog give a glimpse of the divergent politics of Christians - from the Scottish Christian Party with its homophobic, pro-capital punishment, apparently anti-human rights agenda, to the Archbishop of York's newspaper advert calling on people to get out and vote (in local elections) against the BNP. When Christians hear the call to put their faith into political practice, they hear very different calls. It has, of course, always been this way - and it would be inconsistent of me to wish for a neat and tidy political package, since I am generally in favour of mess! But I can't help but be embarrassed, even ashamed, by certain Christian voices which claim to speak decisively for Christian politics - but their lack of grace, lack of awareness of structural injustice, let alone their lack of good news can be so overwhelming that it's not easy admitting one's own Christian affiliation. For isn't it high time we got serious - radical, even - about humanity? Isn't it high time, not least in this year commemorating the abolition of the British slave trade, that we put human beings before profits, before prejudices, before preservation of any oppressive status quo? Isn't it high time we dared to stand in solidarity with anyone 'crucified' today - for their sexuality, ethnicity, tribe, class, gender, nationality, age, politics or views? It is not Christian to stand only with Christians, or only with people like 'me'. Instead, it is Christian to stand with all who suffer - with all the contradictions that can bring. And if that means that Christian politics is inherently 'progressive' or left-leaning, well so be it ... but can we nevertheless still stand with reactionaries and right-wingers too?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Secular Faith?

2007-04-30T15:41:00.000Z

I'm not quite sure if this is the right title for this blog-entry, but the point is this: It is said, with good intentions, that Christians should affirm that we have more in common with other 'people of faith' than with 'secularists', but I am sure that this is not always the case! By saying this, I am certainly not attacking the interfaith movement, because that is essential in its own terms, not least because it is a properly Christian concern to build relationships and share in conversations with those who are 'other', those from whom we can learn, those from whom we appreciate how we are seen ourselves, those with whom we can work for justice and peace. However, I am aware that there are issues on which I wish to stand firm with so-called secularists (even if they are wrapped up in western Enlightenment assumptions! for I certainly do not wish to throw out the wisdom of the Enlightenment with its dirty water) in the face of dubious religiosity. I am thinking of science, respect for its methods and (tentative) findings, the concern for 'secular' human rights, the importance of secular education, the value of a church-state divide (for the good of both) and generally the need for religion to be exposed to secular suspicions. After all, I am convinced that, if God is for religion, God is also for the secular - not unconditionally, since God is not unconditionally for religion either! - because God has high hopes for humanity's capacity to critique bad or dubious religion. We are given prophetic resources within our religious tradition(s), to critique our concretions of anti-secular ideologies, but we must also be open - dare to be open - to those extra-religious voices which criticise our religious ideologies. This is not merely because I read The Guardian, as though I give more credence to it than 'The Gospel' (as some sneering religionists might suggest), but because our Good News is fundamentally self-critical, a living, organic tradition, which takes seriously humanity's God-given quest for truth in all its multi-facetedness. This does not make me reductionistic (not always, anyway!), or debilitate my ability to criticise secular materialism, but I should remember that some secularists are also critical of materialism, and we must be committed to serious relationship with 'the secular' on such an understanding.

Facts, fictions, Noah's non-violence

2007-04-25T15:14:00.000Z

I have to admit, I don't know what to say sometimes when people are starting from a very different place. I'm particularly thinking of church Bible Study groups where the dominant view is very much that it all happened - and although one member seems to feel free to state their scepticism, it very much feels as though I, as the minister present, would not be so free! After all, I represent "what the church believes", it is assumed. So even though our recent group seemed happy enough with evolution (thankfully!), they still wanted my inclusive statement ("We can believe in evolution and take the Bible seriously") to mean one thing: "yes, it all happened, even if in slightly different ways."
I am, though, a coward! So even though it was possible to get a wedge into the gap when we were talking about Noah - by suggesting that the story reflects a people's way of "making sense" of a large, localised flood in the community's memory, rather than representing God's "will" as such - I still stepped back from saying "and so the 'facts' of this story simply are not crucial." Even so, we did get to the interesting point ... that the symbol of God's covenant is a 'bow', a weapon of war, reminding us that what had angered God to act so decisively had been humanity's utter violence and self-destructiveness (see Genesis chapter 6: 1-8). The symbol, not simply a beautiful rain-bow, is double-edged ('literally'!): for it reminds us of the violence, and then the cost of violence - the rain which flooded the destructive people. So Noah's family stands as a haven of non-violence ... and this beautiful symbol reminds us of that dream. Not so much the fairy-tale for children of cute animals on an ark, but a poignant judgment on humanity's inhumanity and violence ... why won't it stop?

Getting the Easter treatment

2007-04-09T14:35:00.000Z

The Gospel stories of Jesus' resurrection leave us with an intriguing gap: what might have happened between the disciples' retreat and the discovery of the empty tomb? Matthew tells us there are soldiers sleeping, and angels now guarding the tomb ... but what happened in the gap? 'He is risen,' we are told. 'He is not here' or 'Why look for the living among the dead?' or 'Do not fear, for he has gone ahead of you.' All we know is that we are playing catch-up. He has surprised us again. Just when we could legitimately expect to be 'up to speed', he has exploited the mysterious gap between us again, and gone ahead of us. It is like a frustrating game of 'hide and seek', only the one who is hiding seems to remain ahead of the game, even at the very point that we could justifiably be sure that we had beaten him! Not that we were trying to beat him; we just wanted to do the right thing by him - to bring flowers and spices to his grave. But he has gone. The gap remains - we are destined to be caught off guard, at least as much as the soldiers! So what? It means, contrary to much Christian hyperbole about the confidence we can now claim, that our confidence is shattered - and that is the very grounds of our hope! If we are truly to get and embrace 'the Easter treatment' we must accept that the grounds of our faith will always surprise us and shake us. This is what the story of Jesus shows us: Be ready to un-do even what you deemed to be the most secure concept, to dismantle even the most concrete world-view, to shatter even the strongest rock, to have even the heftiest stone rolled away. Even that which is 'prophesied' in some way will continue to shake and disturb us: it will never be in our grasp, but will call us on, again and again, for the sake of freedom, hope and healing. This is the politics of Easter: the gap between hope and reality is vital, to keep us on our toes, questioning each Power, re-evaluating every presumption, for the sake of all enslaved or de-humanised people and communities ... so be ready ... mind the gap, never take it for granted that it is closed ... for the work goes on and resurrection makes it possible and essential.

An Easter Saturday world

2007-04-07T13:03:00.000Z

The good thing about religious calendars is that they give us discipline and a shape to help frame our lives, to place the events of 'ordinary' life in the context of God's relatedness with us. But the problem with them is: we know what happens next. There is a lack of surprise. In our church, on Good Friday this year, we prayed for the strength to wait patiently, anticipating that hope will be fulfilled, healing will come, but recognising (at least in our words) that we do not know when ... which is why we need to develop the ability to wait patiently but actively. And this is where we are, as a world, every day: between the depths of what has happened and the hope for what could happen. Of course, many people anticipate only that things will get worse, but the Christian calling is to resist that pessimism, but without retreating into a naivety which denies the awfulness of Good Friday. Many Christians prefer not to attend services on Good Friday, because it is too painful - which on the one hand I find disappointing, because there is a journey to be shared together; but on the other hand, may be the fact that they cannot face it suggests that they already recognise its awfulness ... but the thing is to hope for tomorrow, without assuming it will simply drop into our laps. We must go to the grave, bringing our spices and flowers, to witness the things we would rather forget, and our calendar tells us "tomorrow" will be much better ... but in the meantime, we wait, patiently, actively, loving not only those who show us kindness but also those who would do these awful things to others, hoping, hoping ...

Here I am

2007-03-26T22:03:00.000Z

Also, concerning slavery, the call of Moses is illuminating. The burning bush, from which Moses hides his face, reminds us that the revelations about slavery today continuing to be frightening; but God is present in them, calling us to respond. This God also recalls history, reminding us of the divine presence with the people of the ages - God was there, and connects us all together. So Moses responds, saying, 'Here I am.' This is the God who makes us realise 'where we are at'. We cannot ignore the present moment or place, the lives of others. This is, after all, also the God who hears the cries of the oppressed (see Exodues 3: 1-12). We too must hear ... and respond.

Unbind them, and let them go

2007-03-26T21:50:00.000Z

It wasn't necessarily the most obvious Bible text for the subject in question. But actually the story of the raising of Lazarus ended up feeling surprisingly pertinent to the theme of slavery. It is, as we ought to know by now, the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the British slave trade - though obviously slavery continues, trafficking is increasing, and there is still a long way to go since that memorable milestone. But what of Lazarus? Jesus was late. Religious leaders are often late to the crime scene. There are always other things to do, other lessons to teach, which seem more important at the time. But Lazarus died. If Jesus had been earlier, Martha and Mary say, he might not have died. But he comes, and he asks to see where the body is laid. Even if we are late, we must nevertheless dare to ask, 'Can we see the things of death? Take us to the heart of the matter. Show us the reality - in all its awfulness. Where is the body?' So it is with slavery. Many would rather consign it to history, as a terrible chapter in an appalling saga. But no, we must dare to face it, to see it, to witness it, past and present, because history lingers, like the stench of Lazarus. And there is weeping ... so we are told 'Jesus began to weep'. We must weep with those who weep, in solidarity with the stories we would rather not hear. It is our duty. Next, he says 'Take away the stone'. There can be no reconciliation if we do not name and confront and remove the stones which stand in the way: every obstacle to justice which persists. Take it away! And then he speaks to Lazarus, the sinister memory and stench, 'Lazarus, come out!' We must name the forgotten nameless; we must call the enslaved to freedom. And finally, Jesus says to the gathered crowd, 'Unbind him and let him go.' It is our responsibility, too, to play our part. To 'unbind' those burdened by the past, those who dare not remember, those who are enslaved, and ourselves, bound up with the systems of slavery. Unbind us all!

People of simultaneous dusk & dawn

2007-03-05T14:06:00.000Z

I have a photo of the inside of South Africa's Constitutional Court - a relatively new building, partly built out of the bricks from the old prison where Nelson Mandela and others were held prior to their trials. Inside, the designers have incorporated images of traditional African justice - pillars representing trees, since the traditional judges would sit under trees; high-up skylights, slithers of glass, representing transparency (as opposed to the opaque "justice" under apartheid) and the 'light' breaking in; and so on. I have another photo outside the court, taken when I visited Johannesburg as part of a Global Youth Convention, which captures a red sunset. A sunset and a new dawn, together. Which is how we are called to be - we who are people of faith; we who see, for example, in the person and partnerships of Jesus a new dawn ... we are called to point to the dusk of an old world, right here and now, often hard to spot, but present nonetheless, and to point to the dawn of a new world, right here and now, often hard to spot, but present nonetheless. The practice of faith consists of the art of identifying dusk and dawn, how they occur simultaneously: for whenever the old world crumbles, something new is born. We are called to see where the light is breaking in, how it exposes the old world for its hollowness and inhumanity, how it makes possible the subversion of such things, and the building of hope. We are called simultaneously to be people of the dusk, people who know when "the powers of domination" have had their day, and people of the dawn, celebrating the rising of the sun ...

Making People Objects

2007-02-19T22:41:00.000Z

The issue is not about "people objects", but about how we make people into objects. The point is, people are not objects - we are not concretely representable things, with distinct borders or boundaries, who can be reduced to a certain set of essences. Instead, we are relational beings, or even 'becomings'. And yet, at a most fundamental level, we reduce one another into objects for the sake of convenience: not only our 'enemies', whom we more understandably reduce to a set of negative characteristics, but we even do this to an extent with regards to people we respect - they become a set of characteristics we respect, even if one of those characteristics is "having depth"! My point isn't that we should rediscover some proper sense of woolliness in our appreciation of each other, for there certainly are things to be said about one another; but the point is that there is always more to be said. Relational be(com)ings are not complete. Ok, perhaps the same is true about objects - in a sense - because nothing is perfectly constant in an ever changing world. But this truth is more pronounced with regards to human beings. We should not, therefore, reduce people to "the thief who did a particular bad thing", as though divorced from all the unknowns which constitute the person concerned. I might suggest, as a Christian, that Jesus' injunction not to judge others is the epitome of this observation ... and yet there is a sense that Jesus himself does objectify people at times (for he is not an idealised object himself, but a person on a journey, constituted by relationships with other messy people). For instance, is it an objectification to speak of "the poor" and "the rich", as though they are disembodied groups neatly sitting in opposition? Of course, there are clear examples of each, but we must also open ourselves to the complexity of the inter-relatedness, without belittling the purpose of the apocalyptic dichotomy: there remains a use for "them" vs. "us", to highlight the inequalities, the ways in which "they" (or is it "we"?) oppress and belittle "us (or "them"?) We will always do some objectifying, even necessarily, but the point is to recognise and edit it.

The Best is yet to come?

2007-01-12T19:14:00.000Z

I try to be a person of hope. But what makes it hard, is not even the hopelessness of the world; it is more often people's refusal to be hopeful. Hope - it seems to me - runs so deep within the Christian tradition, that I cannot understand the resistance to it; and I don't want to put it down simply to my relative youthful naivety! (Are 31-year olds "youthful"?!) After all, the resistance to hope comes in two forms, one naive, the other more understandable. The naive form may look like hope, but it is false hope, which is almost equivalent to no hope; it is that naive insistance that "all will be well", which particularly manifests itself in terms of "pie in the sky when you die", an unwillingness to grapple with the hopelessness of the world because of a greater belief in something more beautiful waiting for us. It is naive, because it overlooks - even suppresses - some of the messiness of the real world. It is hopeless, because it does not allow for the possibility of deep transformation here and now; it only imagines that the current state of things will not have the last word, without urging people to believe they can help transform them. The other form of resistance to hope is more understandable, because it is borne out of struggle and pain; older people speaking to younger people call it "life experience", that which tells us idealism loses its sharpness in the furnace of a harsh world. But to give up on hope because of experience, is to miss the point: hope may well be the smaller, weaker 'presence' within any harsh experience, but its very presence is sufficient to take on the invincible power of slavery, apartheid, racism and sexism. To believe the best is genuinely yet to come, we must therefore dare to root out and transform both that false hope which says good things come about if we just carry on doing what we do - no, hope demands change, now! And we must dare to root out and transform that pessimism infected by doom-and-gloom, or by cheap fears fuelled by cynical media, which says there's no point trying - no, hope demands commitment to new possibilities, lived as though they will have the last word over their resistance.

Christians listen to others

2007-01-10T15:51:00.000Z

Perhaps I'm wrong (it's a real possibility!) but this seems to get to the heart of a serious current issue: I believe that, as well as being defined in terms of what they say about their own faith, Christians ought to be known for the quality of their commitment to hear what others say. So when a woman complained that I had not given a "Christian" talk because I had explained some basic features of Islam to a church group, my response should have been (if I had dared to be truly honest) that enabling Christians to "listen to other voices" is genuinely Christian! It seems, though, that the media has done well: Muslims have been suucessfully defined as the wicked Other, the "race" (as this woman put it) which is to be legitimately feared. And of course, we should not dare to learn about the things we fear, because that might challenge the legitimacy of our fear! It is better, obviously, that the world be divided into knowns and unknowns, black and white, good and bad, because then we know where we are. However, is this Christian? Well, yes and no! The black-and-white thread of Christian faith, which can be traced even to Jesus, certainly nurtures a duality: but what is the nature of that duality? It is not "them" and "us", as in "religious others" and "our own kind", but - if we are to trust the traditions of Jesus - is rather more frequently a duality between the Powers-that-be and their victims, between religious/political/economic powers and those who suffer due to them. For Jesus made concerted efforts to re-integrated "the others", lepers and Samaritans and children feared because of their "dangerousness". Which brings me to the "no" - the duality of Jesus, which admittedly allows for a certain kind of dangerous division, is also the denial of other dualities; for we who are insiders are all-too-easily on the outside, and outsiders often display more grace. To follow in his footsteps therefore means openness to the other - within and beyond. Full stop.

More on the romanticism of faith

2006-12-22T15:55:00.000Z

Reactions to this Christmas carol by the Iona Community (1987) are always illuminating:

Once in Judah's least known city
stood a boarding-house with back-door shed,
where an almost single-parent mother
tried to find her newborn son a bed.
Mary's mum and dad went wild
when they heard their daughter had a child.

Giving a fruity twist to the Once in royal original, invariably churchy people are a bit unsure about it, whereas people who attend Christmas services but who would not usually come to church are much more impressed by it. While it's always a bit risky generalising from anecdotal experiences, I believe the contrast is indicative of something: people outside of churches are wary of romanticism, whereas church-regulars have definitely been shaped by it. This doesn't mean - at all - that churchy people are heads-in-the-clouds while other people are feet-on-the-ground, because I believe churches address more gritty topics than we give ourselves credit for (it is, after all, churches who risk talking about asylum-seekers, poverty, racism, etc.) But when it comes to the things of faith, spirituality and religion, we tend to like ours served with a fair dollop of romanticism, something to make the pill taste better, whereas the public at large is ready for a bit more realism. After all, this faith-stuff has to measure up and we need to know what we're talking about - especially in a world of conspiracy theories, scientific fundamentalism, anxiety about absolute claims and religious extremism, and a fairly healthy degree of scepticism about institutions, if not an unhealthy cynicism about everything! Victorian carols may serve a cultural function, galvanising a sense of history, continuity, safety; but they do little to nourish the spiritual hunger for something more real. The contrast is telling.

The Inescapable Christmas Orgy?

2006-12-22T15:28:00.000Z

Every year it's said, and every year it happens again. How come? It's not even as though it is religious people alone who make the point; most conscious people are aware that commercialism has done something negative to Christmas, and that far from making it a happy time, it is a very stressful time. Of course, it's all very well for people to complain about it if they/we are among those wealthy enough to participate in it without too much hardship - the more pressing point concerns those who are stressed and depressed because things are such that they cannot even participate in it, while they remain surrounded by images and crowds which make it perfectly obvious what it is all about: presents! So it is rightly often said that "Christmas = debt" for many normal people, something which should shame the culture we take for granted ... but the point is, even though we can identify the crass superficiality and poorly disguised money-making orgies of the High Street, and even though we can deplore the stress the whole package causes us in terms of expectations, yet we still do it. Nothing seems to indicate more clearly Walter Wink's observations about the Powers: see how we remain in the thralls of something bigger than ourselves, even though we know the right thing is to head for a much simpler festival. Something takes hold of us at the corporate level (in both senses of 'corporate'!!), which Wink believes has a spirituality of its own. Perversely, the nativity narratives actually give us the key to unlock and dismantle this treasure chest approach to the Christmas 'season'; for while Emperors and Governors and Kings get on with their dirty business, the real action happens where there is "no room", in an animal trough, a simple manger. This is no justification for Christian self-righteousness, however, as though Christmas should embrace Victorian romanticism plus a 'superior' sense that we are now the victims keeping alive the true flame! Instead, the nativity narratives invite something more subversive than romanticism and pride: commitment to the margins, to those who poke at and unpick the enormity of the Powers. And yet, it remains so difficult not to buy more than we can eat and more than we need.

If roots could talk ...

2006-12-11T22:14:00.000Z

In chapter 11 of the prophet Isaiah, a passage used in Advent because Jesus is believed to fulfil such prophecies, there is the image of a tree, even a stump, out of which grows a new branch. It is called the stump of Jesse, Jesse being King David's father, and David being viewed by the Jewish people as the greatest of kings, God's 'anointed one'. Jesus, then, is said to fulfil such great kingship, such 'anointed' status, with renewed purpose. But what it also shows us is that every tree has roots, and roots are the hidden part of a tree - and certainly the 'family tree' of Jesus has its fair share of skeletons (to mix some metaphors), including David - with a very mixed and muddled life, not exactly the idealised construction conveyed - just as every tree has things that continue to shape the new branches but which are buried. So it is with faith, with Christmas: the 'shadow' side of religion, the things we struggle to engage with constructively, because it's much easier to whitewash our religion, to boast about the good bits. Not exactly a Christmas message: and yet may be it is, since the nativity narratives have a shadow side, rooted in a vicious Empire, with puppet kings in fear of a new 'anointed' ... so give thanks that, even though our trees have shadowy roots, even so, new life and hope and joy can grow out of them; one who judges by fairness, equity, with concern for the poor, can even grow out of such violent soil; the possibility of renewal is always there - right in the muddiest of places.

Living with spilt milk

2006-12-01T12:37:00.000Z

I was going to try and be clever. But the words aren't coming. I wanted to link two things: 1) the fact that I've just read on "The Unlikely Evangelist" website (link to be added soon!) about "the end of the world", about how it's not about the destruction of the world, but seeing the world through different eyes amd working for its re-creation now; and 2) a letter I've received angrily criticising me for forgetting to do something. And they are linked - I think. The letter really upset me. It was right - I had forgotten to do something - but its anger was disproportionate, and the attack was personal. So I have to live with that spilt milk, which I did "cry over" briefly, but I felt better after telling one of the most amazing 70-something year-old women who phoned me back and read a prayer over the phone. Of course, this incident is not the end of the world, and yet on the other hand, it is. I must pray for the person who wrote it, if I want to be part of this 'new world', because that begins to break the cycle of bad feeling - but it's bloody hard! In fact, I should want this episode to be the end of the world as we knew it, to be an opportunity (a kairos?!) for something new and braver. Forgetting things is easily done; I'm sure the letter-writer has forgotten a few things too; so "spilt milk" is all around us; but the trick is to live with it in a new way, with new eyes, with a new prayer: God, help me to mop it up.

The last word? It's never enough.

2006-11-24T16:13:00.000Z

It's a good campaign: the United Church of Christ's "God is still speaking" campaign, which uses the image of a comma to remind us that whenever we think God has finished, or whenever we give the impression that it's all buttoned up, God surprises us again! This relates to Jesus, too. He's good, for sure, but he's not enough! That may sound controversial, but it's actually very 'orthodox', because God is not exhausted by God's presence in the life of Jesus; God's parenthood of all peoples transcends God's particular presence in Jesus, and God's Spirit within all of creation exceeds even the outer limits of Jesus' unique representation of God's presence. For me, this is very important: if we didn't accept that even Jesus has limits, we would "idealise" him; we would create an image of him which has the answer to everything; whereas the reality is that any such 'answers' are bound to involve some of our own imagination. I find it much more helpful (following the advice of Stephen Pattison in an article on 'The Shadow Side of Jesus', and Werner Ustorf on 'the disestablished Christ') to acknowledge Jesus' genuine humanity, that he therefore made some mistakes, had to learn, and had a rounded personality, because otherwise I'm following an unreal, almost ghostly teacher, someone less able to help me when I too make mistakes and have to learn. So thank God that Jesus isn't the last word; it would never be enough.

Another world, another language

2006-11-24T16:00:00.000Z

It's interesting: like many other Christians, I believe that words like 'Lord', 'king', even 'Messiah' and 'saviour', are still relevant; that they can be attached to Jesus; but that it's always important to point out how disruptively those words are redefined in relation to Jesus. So to call Jesus our 'Lord' is to make a seditious point about worldly 'lordship' being all the wrong way up, with its implication of top-down authority, domination, feudalism, a gulf between the ruler and the ruled; because Jesus instead shows us servant lordship, one who suffers in solidarity with the masses, the disgraced, the powerless. Even 'Messiah' is transformed, despite its Greek version being used as Jesus' "second name" (Christ) - because he did not rule or restore things in the military way generally anticipated. I might add that even 'saviour' is shaken by the way that Jesus subverts so much of our Christian dogma imposing on him our desire for one who sorts it all out. For, like it or not, his method has left us with a lot of work to do ourselves! ... So this is the point: with so much subversion generated by Jesus regarding the words used of him, isn't it better not to use them at all? Or, in the case of "the kingdom", doesn't it make more sense to use the Greek "basileia", simply because it prevents easy translation: something new is required; something new is effected by him; something new is possible ...

Articulating Church, Class and Mission

2006-11-14T20:39:00.000Z

Hopefully I'm not stupid enough to imagine that class determines everything, or that 'churches' can be neatly defined in terms of the socio-economic class of their memberships; and yet I firmly believe that class continues to be at least one of the factors, one of the determinants, which contribute to the nature or "groupthink" of any community, churches included. Take, for instance, the research into "growing churches": research which identifies "successful" churches in terms of those best able to articulate their faith and to cultivate church programmes explicitly designed to introduce other people to faith, and advertised as such. "Middle class" churches are not only at a distinct advantage if this is the game we must play "to do well", but I would suggest that middle classness almost defines such "growth" - not that "working class" people and churches cannot be part of similar developments, but churches in "working class" areas which reflect such developments are perhaps bucking a trend, and may be even being quite "middle class"?? I don't mean - at all - that inner-urban churches must define themselves "only" in terms of practical, social concern kinds of things, either as though those things are less important (they're clearly not!) or as though such churches can't do "thinking" and "articulacy" too! But what working-class contexts surely suggest is that Christian "good news" is much more rounded than the business-model of articulation-led mission. If a church works hard to include someone who might not be included in any other group, then that is at least as valuable as a church's evangelistic programme, because it is a real sign of good news. Working class communities are often better at this ... but often the "middle class" pressure to "succeed", to be "viable", means that a church itself will not value such inclusion as they ought to, hoping instead to "grow". If only, instead, each church could "be itself" with as much integrity to its story of good news.

The hand that feeds you

2006-11-03T16:42:00.000Z

I wonder: may be there is a need for ministerial training to include something about systems analysis! After all, if Walter Wink is right, then every 'system' - every power-that-be - is, to use traditional Christian language, 'fallen' and yet capable of being 'redeemed', and this presumably applies to the church as well. We need to see the church, then, as a system in its own right, since if we are called in some sense to 'manage change', then we must understand - we must be able to analyse - the systems at work in the life of the church, the ways in which people behave because they are in thralled by a 'system'. For people cannot individually be blamed for their intransigence, perhaps, or for ignorance, or for manipulativeness, but should be understood as operating within a collective "groupthink" - or in Orwell's terms, by the "doublethink" which allows people to believe contradictory things at the same time unquestioningly. To ask these things, to suggest these criticisms, of course feels a little like biting the hand that feeds you - if 'you' are a minister, as I am - because it seems like disloyalty, hum-bug, to suggest that your employing institution is 'fallen'! Or it implies that I'm simply frustrated that things aren't going my way at the moment - it comes out of a sense of my inability to deal with what's up! And yet, seriously, it is also good news: for I must see myself as much a part of this fallen movement as anyone else; that we are all complicit with the operation of the system; that something is going on which transcends the behaviour of any individual, so no one of us should beat ourselves up about it. But the question is: is it for individuals to 'see the light', to change from within, or should we engage as a corporate body in the analysis of our incapacity? I suggest we need to look at this together, that it should therefore be part of how ministers and church leaders are trained into the role, that direct engagement with the system already starts to transform it.

Telling a progressive story confidently

2006-10-03T21:40:00.000Z

It's a challenge. Something about the liberal disposition makes it very difficult to escape from reticence. Even though in some respects there can be an air of arrogance and presumptuousness around the religious liberal (like me), nevertheless the greater feeling is one of reticence - I/we get so caught up in the provisionality of things, that sometimes I/we fail to make definite claims; we become embarrassed about the evangelical certainty which sometimes looks like idolatry, as though a human being can pinpoint "the truth" with as much clarity as is apparently claimed. So the challenge is to offer 'a big story', a meta-narrative if you will, which speaks in progressive terms - about peace, social justice, equality, the provisionality of knowledge, the plurality of reality, the quest for reconciliation - but without degenerating into a debilitating relativism. The point is to say, 'Yes, we do have good news, we do believe that our faith can make a difference, we do believe that a faith community has a real and radical contribution to make to the compassionate transformation of the world, yet we do not make our claims imperialistically ...' Where this will differ, perhaps quite fundamentally, from the meta-narratives of religious conservatives, is in terms of the historical debates: what are the foundations of belief? what do we believe were 'the big events' of our faith, which foster our ideological commitments today? Of course, though, from a progressive viewpoint, it is not about asserting that I know what was historical, but that does not mean we can avoid the debates - and we can dare to say that we are not so sure that particular readings of history are coherent or appropriate. This need not make us arrogant; it suggests we want genuine dialogue between faith, history, science, etc. And here I stand, confidently.

A Hopeful Reminder: each lonely butterfly

2006-09-25T15:26:00.000Z

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

2006-09-25T15:05:00.000Z

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

2006-09-25T14:38:00.000Z

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

2006-09-06T14:19:00.000Z

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.)

2006-09-03T17:28:00.000Z

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

2006-09-01T17:53:00.000Z

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?

2006-09-01T17:36:00.000Z

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!

2006-09-01T17:24:00.000Z

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 ...?

The risk of consensus

2006-08-16T22:57:00.000Z

It's a strange thing to complain about, because it's certainly hard to achieve. But I'm a bit wary of a neat consensus. After all, even when it appears to have been achieved - as in certain kinds of church meetings - the appearance is often quite superficial ... it's amazing what people agree to, or acquiesce to, for a quiet life. I'm much more interested in solidarity than consensus, because while consensus presumes agreement, a nice and tidy point of completion, solidarity allows for differences - we can be in solidarity with people we disagree with. So with the recent terror stories. Thankfully, most people resist the simplistic consensus which places "us" against "the Muslim other", because most people seem to recognise that extremists are quite different from moderate majorities. But there is the danger of another consensus, which could form if we allow ourselves to be pressurised into believing there is only one way of defeating terrorism, and which relies on a certain kind of confident assumption: that the suspects are evil, while our ground is unmovable. Hopefully, most can understand that this anxiety is not about justifying or even explaining terrorism - there must be a consensus against it - but how it is tackled must remain subject to criticism. How we handle these delicate balances certainly isn't easy, which is perhaps why I remain worried about any hasty consensus. Having said that, it is helpful to think of such destructive ideologies as 'fascistic', because it points to the human contexts out of which such deformed world-views emerge - angry young men who see simply in black and white - and yet there is always more to it ... and many people suffer under such threats all of the time, reminding us to be in solidarity with sisters and brothers of many creeds in all parts of the world. So, no easy solutions, which may itself be part of the method for addressing the conflict.

We're told to be humble - but what is it?

2006-08-07T17:32:00.000Z

If we were always humble in the way often taught by the churches, however implicitly, would we ever say anything or offer to do anything? There seems to be something real within church traditions which urges people never to push their own gifts forward. Of course, churches want us to offer our willingness to fulfil the kinds of roles that need to be fulfilled (being secretary, doing the cleaning, helping with the flowers, doing the rotas, etc.), and all of those things give people a sense of purpose (at one level). But I'm talking about something else: after all, to fulfil those roles we are expected to do so humbly, never thinking of our gifts as being too important but contributing to a bigger picture ... but does this mean that genuine creativity, something that might actually destabilise the status quo, is broadly suppressed? Is "Christian Humility" an ideology which basically keeps people in their place, keeps the structures and systems of the church AND of the world largely undisturbed? And within a particular model of Humility, are some roles fulfilled in a way that actually allows the exercise of manipulative power? (Think of the martyrs who cannot be criticised, because they are so committed to the roles.) So what, instead, is a more authentic kind of humility, which still avoids arrogance, but which enables everyone's giftedness to be celebrated in a way that could potentially change the system/s?

A Solidarity of Others?

2006-08-05T21:40:00.000Z

I am fascinated by the ideas in a book by Anselm Min, a Korean American, called "The Solidarity of Others in a Divided World: A Postmodern Theology after Postmodernism". He argues that the church as 'the Body of Christ' is called to be a solidarity of 'others', in the sense that we are all 'other' to one another, we are all 'different' from each other. It is a great vision of the church, but more than that, a great model which is offered - in humility - to the world. For we set out this vision, admittedly imperfectly, trusting that the world may witness it as good news: that very different people can nevertheless live together peaceably and justly. But it doesn't seem to work quite as we would hope! We need to be better at promoting a couple of things: first, the diversity of people already in the church, which is often overlooked or directly suppressed (because diversity is messy); and second, the idea of solidarity, a mature way of handling differences, which ain't easy! If we don't work at those things, it'll be difficult to offer it as a model for (other) others ...

What does it mean to say God gives gifts?

2006-08-05T21:30:00.000Z

Sometimes, we all need to shout out and complain against God. In the Book of Exodus, chapter 16, it says the people of Israel complained against God, because their leaders had helped them escape from slavery, but now they had nothing to eat. Their freedom felt like a death sentence. How this can be true! First, that we take the amazing things of our lives for granted. But secondly, that our faith can put us into new and frightening situations - good news is always double-edged. But what about the idea that follows? God "hears" their complaining, and gives them "manna from heaven" to feed them in their hunger, so they'll believe God is with them. This begs several questions (let alone the historical issues!) First, what does it mean for God to "hear" us? Not only 'hear' in the sense of catching the sounds we make, but in the deeper sense of "I hear you", or 'I get it'. In some sense, presumably God does 'hear' this way, but it's a bit of a mystery, isn't it! But secondly, how does God give us gifts? What does that mean? We might well never enjoy "manna from heaven" in the sense of a miraculous intervention, but still there is 'giftedness' at the heart of the world's life, in which God enables us to participate. What is it?

Christi-anarchy! (I've borrowed it)

2006-07-25T23:04:00.000Z

Having just checked out an article on the ekklesia website, I'm reminded of the closeness between Christianity and anarchism, which Dave Andrews captured in the brilliantly titled "Christi-Anarchy: a radical spirituality of compassion." The closeness is because Jesus was a prophet against the powers - religious, social and political - just as anarchy means 'without rulers', so urging us to subvert and overcome the status quo. Again, it's radical, it's revolutionary, and even more surprising: it's biblical! After all, the Old Testament has different strands, monarchical and anti-monarchic, priestly and prophetic, and the New Testament too shows different tendencies, though Jesus seems surely to place himself in the anti-domination stream of the prophets - even Paul, often deemed 'conservative', is actually better understood as a critic of Empire. So, again, this begs questions of the church: how well do we practise this kind of faithfulness and discipleship, critiquing 'the Powers', walking the way of humility, empowerment, peace and compassion? Mmm ... the potential is always there ...

Spreading the word? (liberally)

2006-07-25T17:49:00.000Z

It's a strange tension: the prospect of this "Jesus-movement" changing the world, of it being something truly radical and revolutionary for the sake of the oppressed and marginalised, can be genuinely exciting ... but I am hopeless when it comes to speaking to people who do not know much about it. In fact, my liberal sensibilities are such that I am very reticent, tending to be very wary of what people will make of it - after all, passion is a bit embarrassing, isn't it?! - and there are so many problems with the Church at large, that it is difficult to invite people to be a part of it ... and on the one hand, I don't lose any sleep about this, because I focus on working with the people already committed to the church, and kind of expect them to invite others! So how, if at all, should I set about becoming more able to say "this story is worth it", "this movement really can make a difference - trust me"? And how especially should I do this without being heard as saying "this movement is the best", because I know only too well that other agencies are making invaluable contributions, and other faiths must always be part of the conversations?

Kairos vs. Kyriarchy! (power to the people!)

2006-07-25T17:36:00.000Z

The theologian Elizabeth Schussler Fiorenza gives us the really helpful term "kyriarchy", literally meaning 'rule by lords'. But she means by it the very many ways in which some people 'lord it' over others - whether it is men over women, rich over poor, the West over the South, the bourgeois over the underclass, or whoever. What is shocking is the way in which Christians have so often allowed "Jesus as Lord" to be co-opted by the world's kyriarchical structures, even though the very point of Jesus' Lordship appears actually to have been the denunciation and subversion of kyriarchy. To put it another way, we read the Bible and exercise our faith as though all power-arrows ought to point towards Jesus, because he is exalted as our "ultimate Lord", whereas what he was about was dispersing the power-arrows, pointing them towards the relatively powerless. Power to the People! What is so shocking about this for Christians in churches is simply how radical it is: because it urges people to throw off dependency, to overcome our sense that changes are incremental, believing instead in the kairos - that the time for anti-kyriarchical discipleship is right now! Ouch! The New Community is at hand!

Anger Management?

2006-07-24T22:29:00.000Z

On the day when World Trade Organisation talks have faltered, much to the concern of development agencies, an argument in our church's Bible Study comes to mind. Someone had complained that we're always being told how the world's poverty is "our fault" and we never seem to hear what we've done right ... Well, it's simple - it's because so much of the ongoing hardship of millions of people is because of the intransigence of countries which can afford to make changes but refuse to. So why was this person getting so worked up? It's because the miraculous story of the Feeding of 5000 people raised hard-hitting realisations: things can be done, Jesus expected them to be done, he got disciples involved in seeing them and in doing them, but still we don't like hearing it. I got angry in response - still aware that I don't do enough to follow through on the compassion that is evoked, but angry that such defensiveness can stand in the way of the need for a contemporary miracle. And what would the miracle be? Nothing but managing the anger so to direct it towards building a world in which hungry people are fed.

A new beginning, again!

2006-07-23T15:48:00.000Z

It was a choice between "chaos theology" and "kairos theory", mixing two interesting ideas. Chaos theory (I think!) is that scientific hypothesis that apparently random events are underpinned by greater connections - for example, perhaps a butterfly flapping its delicate wings in one part of the world could contribute to a hurricane in another part of the world. So what if my or your apparently random acts (of kindness, or whatever) could contribute to much greater events further afield? Wouldn't that be crazy ... and amazing!? And kairos theology is the spin-off of South Africa's 'kairos document', which envisaged a new way of tackling apartheid in the 1980s - neither colluding with it, nor justifying it, nor reacting violently against it, but undermining it by prophetic commitment to justice and peace. The 'kairos' was upon the people of South Africa - the 'time for change', a specific kind of time, not consistent with what had gone before, and yet the eruption of what was hidden ... and so chaos and kairos come together: what if a butterfly flapping its delicate wings can contribute to the demise of apartheid? What if our humble contributions to the world can bring about social and political hurricanes damaging the existing world order? What if we can be part of a story of disruptive good news?