Coalitions and coalitions

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)

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 ...

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)

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 ...

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

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?

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 ...

(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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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?

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

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

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

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

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.