lectionary leanings: 'who' and 'what'?

Ps 22: 23-31; Mark 8: 31-38

Several juicy themes to wander down for this coming 2nd Sunday of Lent, but the one that pulls most strongly is identity.  So, some identity meanderings...

But first, that pic from the previous post once more:

The verses just before our gospel passage for this upcoming Sunday see Jesus asking the disciples a series of related questions:
'who do people say I am?'
'who do you say I am?'
this, followed by Peter blurting out 'you are the Messiah'

It is only having sifted through the various lenses of identity perception with the disciples, that Jesus can then move from the 'who' to the 'what' - both identity and action marrying together: this is who I am, and therefore, this is what will happen to me.
And after Jesus has stated what will happen - his suffering, his rejection, his death, his rising from death - Peter appears to have a meltdown moment, and rebukes him.
In the Markan text, we are not told exactly what it is that Peter is rebuking - but the Matthean parallel notes that Peter says 'God forbid! That shall never happen to you!'
And in turn, Jesus rebukes Peter.
Peter, although having stated who Jesus is, still misses the point.
He gets the 'who' but not the 'what' of Jesus.

And then we move to more about identity: in a sense, this is our 'who do we say Jesus is?' bit.
And those who identify as his followers will have the 'what' of:  denial, taking up of a cross, following, loss and yet gain, of not being ashamed of being his people in the world.

And making use of the Psalm for this week, Ps 22: 23-31, perhaps helps fill in a little more with regard to who we follow, and whose we are... and how that shapes our actions, how we live our lives, what we do:

The psalmist opens by saying we should:
praise him, glorify him, stand in awe of him.
Why?
He does not despise those who suffer
he does not hide, he listens when we cry.
He feeds the poor,
he rules over nations...
countless generations will remember him.

what I really do...

There have been a number of variations on a theme over in 'spacehook' recently: a poster headed with a job description and then several pictures of what various folk think it is the person doing said job does.  While they've been fun, they were getting a little tired; that is, until the above was posted by friend Blair. 
I particularly liked the nod at Mark Driscoll.... :D

Gladstone's Library and dining rights, old chap...

Am back in one of my favourite working spaces: St Deniol's Library - tho' now known as Gladstone's Library [aka 'Hogwarts']. 
Time to get another thesis chunk written - am here for 12 days.
Sounds like serious business... 

Currently there appears to be some kind of canon law conference going on between some CofE and Catholic folk - all men, and all sounding very Oxbridge with conversation over dinner at one point about 'one really should exercise one's dining rights'. 
Ah, very different world....

Annnd back to the thesis!

silence actually is golden...

A little incoherent rambling... it is late... but this is a small 'back to basics/ reminder to self' note.

Over at the Revgals blogsite on Monday, there was a book review featuring the title 'Help, thanks, wow' by Ann Lamott.
The book focuses upon the matter of prayer and, happily, takes less of a didactic 'follow these 87 steps to an effective prayer life' and more like a 'so, gang, what the heck are we doing and let's just keep it real, yeah?' approach.
Looks good, and I shall probably acquire it as a handy resource.

Lamott breaks [honest] attempts at prayer into three categories, as per the title of the book...help, thanks, and wow... essentially intercessions on behalf of self and others; thanksgiving for God's good gifts, answered prayer; wow - adoration.
It's a nice and simple approach to what is so often overly-complicated... although saying that... I'd mix it a little and add a couple more:
wow
oops [sorry, stuffed up]
thanks
help
aaaand...breathe [space for silence to listen for the still, small voice of God]

Whether 3, or 5, it's a handy in a nutshell essential guide to what we're basically doing when we pray.
It comes without the baggage of how often, how long, what time of day/night, or where.
Without the time-wasting displacement involved in making sure you pick just the right place, time, or even words.
Without the pointless guilt when you get these bits and pieces somehow 'wrong' or don't follow it in the 'correct' way.
Without that odd competitive spiritual testosterone that can give rise to nonsense conversations such as:
'so, I get up at 6.30am and pray in my bed for an hour before breakfast'
'6.30?  Man, that's late.  I get up at 4am, pray through until 7.30 - on my knees with hands raised to heaven, and spend time crafting specially chosen holy words.'
'Dude? Seriously? My day is just a total loss if I don't wake for prayer at 2am, and stand in a cross-shaped position through until breakfast at 8.  Often I choose to fast until lunch.'

Truly, I have heard conversations a little along those lines...scary biscuits.

What makes for effective prayer?
Bottom line?
That it is ... done.
It is so easy to get tangled up in the methodology and actually spend more time sorting that out, rather than actually just getting on with it.  Well, maybe that's just me....
I suspect it has at least got to be honest - which is what Lamott is trying to point out very gently.
The honest gasp of amazement at the beauty of God's creation, or the small, heartfelt sigh that acknowledges you hurt someone and that you are so utterly sorry for it is authentic prayer as much as long rambling discourses...sometimes, more so.  Although there are those times the long rambles are the way of processing and working through to that 'aha' moment of insight.
Prayer, boiled down, is as simple as breathing...and simultaneously the most profound activity we can do.
Point is: just do it.      

but I don't like it... thoughts on inclusive worship

Teasing out some thoughts once more with regard to matters of inclusivity/ inclusion with regard to worship - more as a 'note to self for future' post.

Can a congregation ever be fully inclusive?
Is a congregation ever completely 'of one mind' in all things?

I'm inclined to think 'no' and 'no' - sometimes not for lack of trying... and sometimes for lack of trying!

I am coming to the opinion that we hang a lot on 'being inclusive' and that we hang an even heavier load on one act of worship. 
We want worship to be:
vibrant and exciting;
a place of quiet contemplation;
filled with children and young people...
or rather that the ones we have were not quite so noisy thanks;
we want symbols - candles, stones, incense: a sensory feast;
we want simplicity and none of this cluttering up the place;
a solid teaching sermon;
a place to hear our shared faith stories;
we want to be entertained...
we want to be doing the entertaining;
we want to be up close and personal to God with us...
we prefer the awesome mystery of God transcendent;
we like the sense of gathering as a community and chatting with and seeing friends;
we'd rather be left to worship in peace, and don't share the peace with me thanks very much.

All this?
All this to try to pack into one hour of worship?
No.  I don't think so.
Let's liberate that one hour in a week consisting of 168,
in a month comprised of c.730,
in a year containing c. 8 766.
Let's shoot for a variety of ways over a period of time in which we gather together to give our focus to God.  And even then:
we want worship to be a consistent experience every time...
we like to mix it up a little.

Let's be a little kinder on ourselves as folk who conduct worship and as people who are led in worship...and recognise the parodox of inclusivity:
inclusivity is not 'one size fits all';
there is no magic formula.
The annoying thing about celebrating diversity is that annoyingly, everyone has different ways/ preferences when it comes to worship.
And maybe focus less on what we're 'getting out of worship' and instead on what we're putting into it? 
Dunno, maybe could work...

lectionary leanings: Ordinary 5B - disintegration/ reintegration

A note re. 'lectionary leanings'...
Although I'm currently not  preaching regularly given PhD final year need to focus, I'm trying to maintain a discipline of looking up, and engaging with, the upcoming lectionary passages. This to keep me 'in the loop' as it were, but also as a way of reflecting on where I might go if I were preaching...
Thinking on this weeks gospel passage Mark 1: 29-39 -

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, 

and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up.

Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. 

And the whole city was gathered around the door. 

And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. 

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. 

And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, 

“Everyone is searching for you.” 

He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” 

And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

Some initial bits n bobs:
healing of Simon/Peter's mother in law:
illness - disintegration
healing means she is able to be reintegrated back

she immediately serves them - enabled to take up her role as providing hospitality and welcome

that evening 'they' brought all the sick and demon-possessed to the door and he cured many - not 'all'?

Jesus, first thing in the morning, goes off to a deserted space and prays...

restoration... to serve
the disciples find him and he states that they are to go to the neighbouring towns so he may proclaim the message... 'what I came to do'

Teasing out a little more:
Having looked at Working Preacher [great resource fellow ministry students], what I began to tease out a little was the idea of disintegration, restoration, and reintegration.

WP highlights Simon's mother in law along these lines, which I quite liked.  Moving with this a little further:
She's ill - in a sense there is a physical disintegration occurring here - she is restored, and then she serves - is reintegrated back into her familial role and enabled to be the provider of hospitality.

In turn, by being able to do so, she plays a part in the restoration of Jesus and the disciples - they are fed and watered and rested so that they too can serve... it prevents a possible 'disintegration' happening?

And so, the disciples bring all the sick, the demon-possessed to be healed - from disintegration, to restoration, to reintegration. [Interesting the text says 'many' not 'all' were healed]

For his own restoration - after giving of himself - Jesus goes off to a deserted place and prays...
before saying to the disciples it's time to go so he can continue with what he came to do.

So the passage could demonstrate a sort of ripple in the pond effect of moving from types of disintegration through to restoration and then reintegration... from a very localised context to a much broader one.
And that last ripple incorporating us as church in the present.

carried off on the surging tides of history

Being a postgrad is an odd thing: it is, at times, very hard to measure your progress.  It is also a very bizarre mind-game. 
There are occasional 'deer-in-headlights' moments where you can feel utterly overwhelmed by all the information that you are having to gather, take in, and analyse, and organise.
There are those other 'thesis-to-slash-your-wrists-by' times when the work is either just dull, dull, dull, slog...or the writing is not flowing...or you keep thinking you've found useful primary sources and then realise that you've hit another dead end.
And then, there are those moments of sheer joy: a small click as a light-bulb turns on and you realise you've worked something out; the sources you find are absolutely 'the' thing you're looking for - and make for fun reading as well; the brain is buzzing and the writing is flowing and you find your thesis 'happy place'.  At the moment, I'm delighted to be in my thesis 'happy place': the energy and enthusiasm for the project is back and I am loving the work once more.  This current thesis section was always going to be the fun part: flyting, fighting and feuding.  I am learning a whole new vocabulary of 16th century swear words/ insults, as well as reading up on such cheerful things as swordfights in the kirkyard 'during tyme of sermone' [well, a change from falling asleep during sermon, at least].

As to measuring how I'm progressing...?  I was at an all-day late medieval/ early modern history conference on Saturday at which several academics, at the height of their powers, delivered blisteringly brilliant papers.  It got my brain buzzing in that good, creative, stimulated way.
I found myself utterly engaged all day and following lines of arguments, knowing references made, and thinking of other references not highlighted.... 
I think I was grinning for most of said day as well.
Basically, I just got the stuff - knew the stuff.
How different to the first conference illustrious supervisor had suggested would be good to go to, when I was doing my Masters.
Oh...the horror.
Not supervisor - the conference.
Was akin to spending the day in a fog-riddled swamp being slowly sucked down into quicksand.  By end of that day, my brain had shut down, I was exhausted, and also very depressed.  I remember thinking 'oh gosh, I will never survive this'.  Supervisor did note that she had deliberately thrown me in at the deep end: and indeed, it was a near-drowning experience.  However, perhaps that experience has proved a useful measuring tool re. progress.  I sense I would still struggle somewhat with parts of that very first conference, and certainly the conference just experience on Saturday was more accessible, but I also know that I seem to have moved on somewhat in my knowledge / understanding of the work at hand.
At this point in the work, I might be beginning to believe that I am, perhaps, finally on the way to becoming an historian.
Hmmm, possibly a dangerous thing: dip your toes in the water and you can find yourself being carried off on the surging tides of history...and at the moment, I am very much enjoying going with that particular flow  :D

lectionary leanings: 'what's this then?'

Some musings on this Sunday's gospel passage:

Mark 1: 21-28 

²¹They went to Capernaum; 

and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. 

²²They were astounded at his teaching, 

for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. 

²³Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, ²⁴and he cried out, 

“What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? 

Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

²⁵But Jesus rebuked him, saying, 

“Be silent, and come out of him!”  

²⁶And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.

²⁷They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, 

“What is this? A new teaching—with authority! 

He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” 

²⁸At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee. 

The writer of the gospel of Mark continues to drive the narrative on at a break-neck pace.  Still in Chapter One, we have moved from the Baptiser's baptism of repentance and Jesus' baptism in the Jordan, briefly noted a wilderness time, have just managed to catch our breath and travelled to Galilee to hear a call to turn and listen to the good news being proclaimed and some fishermen being made an intriguing offer too irresistible to walk away from.  Now we find ourselves suddenly in Capernaum one sabbath day in the local synagogue...

Questions in my head for personal reflecting revolve around what it is to 'teach with authority'; this coupled with avoiding the seduction of 'fame'.  Here, I'm remembering some wise words of Eugene Peterson reflecting on ministry and vocation in 'Under the Unpredictable Plant' about keeping it all real, about being authentic.  And certainly, that can be a challenge when working within and without institutional forms of church: lured by a sort of subtle 'careerism', or lured by building up the biggest and best form of independent church / or type of novel 'fresh expression' ever....
Funny how that's the book I keep coming back to out of all the discernment ones: Peterson speaks in a language that I understand and find myself saying 'yes!' out loud to when I read.  It helps keep life, death, ministry and the universe all a little bit more in perspective at least. 
 
The gospel text is also one of those passages that both make me smile and have a way of making me feel, for want of a better word, rather compassionate.  Here, both smiling at the irony of demons knowing exactly who Jesus is, whilst feeling somewhat kindly towards the people sitting about going 'what's this then?'
I guess I identify a bit with them: I know I certainly ask the 'what's this then?' question quite a lot as I sit about scratching my head, knowing only part of the whole.
Kinda looking forward to moving from the 'now we see in a mirror dimly' to the 'then we shall see face to face...now I know in part, then I will know fully, even as I am fully known.'
Perhaps that, in the end, is what keeps us all going; in the meantime, it's accepting the stuff we do know, embracing the mystery, and walking forward in the now and not yet of hope.

the purity bear: a morality tale of terror

On Friday, a bill proposed by Conservative MP Nadine Dorrie, aka 'mad Nad', was withdrawn from discussion in Parliament.  The bill called for extra sex ed. classes for girls aged between 13-16, which were to focus on the 'benefits of abstinence'.  This based on the premise that it is good for girls to 'just say no.'
Not boys, mind, just girls. 
Once again a case of the old, old Victorian gender double-standard, as well as that very old trope from near the beginning of creation itself: 'it wasn't my fault, the woman tempted me.'
Women: such power we have.  It is really rather astonishing to realise the implied danger we are to poor, weak men. 
This line of reasoning has been used over time to regulate how women behave, what women wear, who they are allowed to speak to, as well as control over their bodies.  Not to control women could lead to the undoing of all men. 
Or not.  

The other way in which to read this need on the part of some men over the course of history to regulate women's behaviour is that women, left to their own devices will just naturally get it wrong: women are the inferior sex whose weakness was demonstrated by the primal archetype of Eve, who fell so easily into temptation.  Women can't be trusted to make decisions and need to be looked after for their own sake, as well as to ensure that the world doesn't go to hell in a handbag of wrong choices.  It is, therefore, the role of men to make the moral decisions, etc.
Which brought to mind a youtube video friend Fran had posted up on my facebook wall at the beginning of the week:      



Leaving aside questions arising from the video, such as:
*what gives with the close-up shots of the rather tensed hands?  It is, I suspect, supposed to be symbolic of sexual tension, but instead conveys all the suppressed passion of a damp sponge.

*is it just me, or is that 'cuddly' purity bear actually just downright creepy?  And why does is sound unnervingly like Darth Vader?  Looking at the laddie, I truly don't believe the force is quite *that* strong with him.

Hmmm, as I said, leaving aside the above rather worrying questions, what we read from this little morality tale is that this girl is either:
a/ utterly naive and unaware of her vixenish, voluptuous powers: does she not know what forces she might unleash in the boy?  She could bring his utter ruination upon him. 
or - b/ quite the hussy to suggest the boy come in when the parents are away.  Lordy, letting the lad in might lead to... coffee.  Here we see her moral inferiority letting her down.  It is up to this poor benighted lad to man up, and be strong for both of them. 
Which of course, he does, triumphantly.

You know, in the end, this lass could really have done with some extra sex ed. classes on the benefits of abstinence.  Had the male not made the 'right' choice in our little video morality tale, I picture a bleak future for our young woman. 
Possibly after opening up her parent's house one too many times, leading to one too many coffees, she ends up one evening on a massive coffee buzz that prevents her from going to sleep once the chap has left ...after coffee.
Restless, she gets up, dresses, and ends up walking the streets.
Given the jerky uber-caffeinated movements she is making as she briskly walks the streets, a passing police car slows down so the police inside can more closely observe her.
Said police pull over and question her, however, high on the caffeine she is speaking so rapidly that the police think she is high on other substances.
She is taken down to the station where she is put in a cell until morning, with the thought that she will have come down from whatever drug she had been using.
Alas, mixing with the wrong company in the shared cell, by the next morning she has gambled away her parent's home, car, and time-share in Florida and finds herself hideously in debt to a scar-faced woman with a wooden leg called 'Hilda' - the woman's name is Matilda.
Knowing she has no home now left to go to, she embarks on a life of crime with Matilda, falls in love with with a string of no-good men, takes up drinking whiskey, and learns to spit.
By 25, she is a ruined woman, with several children from different men, an alcoholic gambler, and the inheritor of Hilda - Matilda having come to a bad end in a ping-pong incident in a Siberian bar.
Having been in and out of jail more times than she has had hot breakfasts, and now working as a barista in a church crypt which is now a decoffinated cafe, she pauses to reflect on that fateful evening many years back, when, having asked her boyfriend in for coffee... he fell into temptation, and said 'yes'. 
A silent tear falls down her cheek, as she regrets the fact that when she was 13-16, she did not have the opportunity of extra sex ed. classes discussing the benefits of abstinence...nor indeed, the dangers of coffee.

lectionary leanings: Mark 1:14-20 - dreaming, MLK, and some good news

Mark 1: 14-20
Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.




This coming Sunday, the lectionary cycle picks up the Gospel of Mark once again, having had a brief foray into John.  Here we find that having been baptised, Jesus journeys to Galilee...

The kiddies song 'I will make you fishers of men' is for me, often the accompanying mental sound-track to this reading; this unusual invitation tending, as it does, to often be the focus or 'stand out' verse for the potential preacher.  However, that is not what caught my eye this time as I read these very familiar words.  Instead, in the business of picking up the narrative from the preceding week, it was the initial set of statements that Jesus was making which made me pause momentarily.
Good news.
Fulfilment. 
God has come near.
Repent, and believe in the good news.

This latter statement set off a wee train of probably lateral tangent thinking, as well as bringing to mind the 'dream' speech of civil rights activist Martin Luther King - whose remembrance day it is today.

Repent, and believe in the good news....
What I found myself mentally adding to this was:
and stop believing the bad news/ the worst case scenario/ being paralysed by fear/ being filled with suspicion, or cynicism.
Repent, and believe in the good news.

Good news that is life-giving, life-enhancing...
news that enables abundance;
news which shines light into the dark fear-filled places and sees possibility and potential and hope;
news which gives us the ability to shake off the chains that keep us clinging to past hurts, and which propels us forward...
equips us with a capacity and a courage to take up that most unusual of invitations...
to fish for people.
Which is... to share the good news about not believing the 'negative press', but to believe the good news:
to believe that the kindom of God has indeed come near...
that kindom - God's gathered community - which works together;
where hope triumphs over despair;
where the captives are freed;
where wounds are healed;
where the broken-hearted are gently tended;
where the vulnerable are championed and where power is used wisely and well;
where people are not judged by the colour of their skin, their orientation or gender, or by the material wealth that they possess...
but where, to borrow from Martin Luther King, they are judged by the content of their character.

Repent, and believe in the good news.
The good news that we are beautifully and wonderfully made in God's image, and that each one of us in our small corner can and will make a difference as, in that perseverance of the saints if you like, we continue in the ongoing journey of turning from believing the bad news and incline instead, towards the good news.

Idealistic dreamer?
Yes.
And the ideals move us from the realms of contemplation towards action:
to be a dreamer of dreams is to actively take up the invitation to follow to one who proclaims good news, and so in turn, we become bringers of the good news, in our homes, in our streets, in our local communities....
To be a dreamer of dreams is to imaginatively and actively engage with one another, and with institutions...
from taking the time to check in on our elderly neighbour, to occupying Wall Street and challenging systems that have the potential to bring out the worst, not the best, in people.
It is to have the courage to shrug off the temptation to use any available ways and means open to us that puts us first, and tramples others under the weight of our own agendas.
But it is also to know that this does not equate with being a doormat...the cleansing of the temple was not exactly the act of a doormat.
Referencing a previous post, what indeed would Jesus do... and how would he do it?
How then, does that inform how we live and act? 


Idealistic dreamer?
Yes.
Because that is what we are called to be and do:
to dream dreams and have visions - of what can be,
to turn away from the soul-destroying paralysis that belief in the bad news brings,
to share the good life-giving news with others.

We are called to follow the great dreamer and activist, Jesus, who turned social conventions on their heads, upset institutions,
who emphasised again and again how much people mattered...
and that institutions are there to serve people, and not the other way around. 
As we dream our dreams and have our visions, we also live and act in the belief that the kindom of God is indeed nearer than we even think.
An inaugurated eschatology... which is not to be equated with a 'do nothing now and wait for pie in the sky when you die', or a 'we're all doomed' attitude.

the real reason dinosaurs became extinct

... smoking?

nah, prolly not.














Saving cute fluffy defenceless little mammals from asteroid storms?

Possibly....

But prolly also ... not.


The real reason?

I think it might have something to do with married gay dinosaurs choosing to do their grocery shopping at Tesco...

Or something like that.

Maybe I'm just a little confused by the latest bizarreness emanating from Christian Voice [because there can only be one voice... and it apparently belongs to these particular folk]. 

Examining - and I use the term loosely - the reason for the fall in sales over the Christmas season, Christian Voice note:
Analysts are blaming Tesco’s ‘Big Price Drop’ idea for the store’s failure, which has led to them issuing a profit’s warning.   Natalie Berg, of consultant Planet Retail, said: “Tesco has taken its eye off the ball.  It has focused too much just on the price of food.  We now all expect high-quality food and everyone is claiming to be the cheapest – consumers are much more wary.”
However, it could fairly be said that Tesco took its eye off the ball even more when it bowed to pressure from its homosexual staff and associated itself with the ‘Gay Pride’ brand, with all its anti-Christian aggression, indecency, immorality and separatism.

Yes, because the latter is utterly more reasonable and rational than the former...

I know. I know.
Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.
I have let myself down with this post.... 
I have just never really got the idea that when scripture states 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, your soul, your mind' that I'm supposed to omit the 'mind' part...[Deut. 6:5; Matt. 22: 37; Mk. 12:30; Lk. 10:27], whilst ensuring that I remember to make a top priority of praying against grocery stores which is apparently Very Important in the greater scheme of the world. 

the undergarments of the Lord...

At one time, amongst a particular strand of Christianity, the WWJD? [what would Jesus do?] fad kicked off: Christian bookstores/ resource centres/ bookstalls/ etc. were inundated by sales reps marketing the WWJD? slogan in all manner of gift format.
WWJD? bracelets
WWJD? t-shirts
WWJD? coffee mugs
and even, allegedly, WWJD? boxer shorts... which provided me with the rather unhelpful distraction of bemusedly wondering about the choice of undergarments worn by our Lord. 

The follow up marketing gimmick was another set of initialled products, all displaying 'FROG' - the rather dire acronym for 'fully rely on God'.
No, I don't make these up, I merely pass on this information.
The purpose of these Christian products were, I believe, two-fold:
1/ to aid the wearer to think how one might behave as a follower of Jesus, when faced with various ethical crises to make the 'right' choices 
2/ as an tool for evangelism - wearing the products as a type of witness to your own faith.

I'll gloss over my difficulties with number one [turning these products into a type of  'lucky talisman' as a tool for decision-making, the possibility of creating Jesus in one's own image, etc., using such items as a way of taking any potential joy in life and crushing it dead 'just in case' - Jesus did go to parties, but one would be inclined to think that Jesus was a particularly miserable kill-joy] and move on to number two:
it's all very well having signs and symbols... wearing particular things, using particular gestures and language, but unless those on the 'outside' of the 'club' know what the symbolism is about, I wonder if it is not rather a futile gesture/action/etc.?
On the other hand, one should not downplay mystery and otherness either, as potential conversation starters.
Further, when the WWJD? outfits are teamed up with actions that seem contrary to what some think Jesus might actually do, we have an interesting conundrum.
Perhaps rather than wearing items asking WWJD?, we might just get on with the business of learning to love one another - and wear what Jesus would do on our hearts and through our actions....
to learn to live life in all its abundance, and to share that abundance with others,
to encourage spaces in which life can blossom and flourish, not wither and perish,
to create environments that nurture and nourish and ensure that all are welcome and all have a place at the table...
this, even when we might disagree with one another over theologies, structures, the manner in which we do things,
this even should it mean we might lose our own status and privileges.

So, WWJD?
Love.
Love abundantly,
and sacrificially.
Love to build up, not beat down.

I'm still not quite sure about whether he'd wear boxers, however.

I rather like the pic. below, posted by friend Nad. on facebook...

lectionary leanings: scrambled musings on the baptism of Jesus

The Baptism of Christ - Piero della Francesca

Mark 1:4-11

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, 

proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 

And people from the whole Judean countryside 

and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, 

and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 

Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, 

with a leather belt around his waist, 

and he ate locusts and wild honey. 

He proclaimed, 

“The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; 

I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 

I have baptized you with water; 

but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee 

and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 

And just as he was coming up out of the water, 

he saw the heavens torn apart 

and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 

And a voice came from heaven, 

“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” 

This coming Sunday's gospel reading focuses on baptism, in fact, baptisms.
The mysterious cousin of Jesus, John, 'appears', as the text puts it.
There's a sense of John somehow unexpectedly springing up out of nowhere -
out of nowhere, and into that nowhere named 'the wilderness'.
And there, in the wilderness, a place beyond the edges of society, of civilisation, of comfort, John both proclaims and offers a baptism.
In the wilderness, the seemingly deserted desert comes alive with streams of people: 'the whole Judean countryside...all the people of Jerusalem' spill out into the desert to seek this baptism.
Some were probably driven by curiosity, others to watch the entertainment of a good show, and some who had within them a sense that all was not well within and which needed to be put right.
John offered a baptism of repentance, a visible, physical act that demonstrated to the one baptised, and to those watching, that whatever had been done was forgiven.  With that forgiveness came the opportunity to imagine and walk towards a future unshackled by the chains of the past,
to let go of bitterness that sucked the soul drier than the desert wilderness itself,
to take on the hope of a new life, green-growing shoots of healing and recovery.

Whether the writer of the gospel is using hyperbole or not, when it comes to the numbers who seemingly began to overcrowd the desert, the point is that people left their homes to seek out this odd man in the middle of nowhere who dressed in the style of a prophet, had a rather odd diet, and talked of one who was greater than he was.
And the reading tells the story of how his words took on physicality in the form of the Word appearing: there in the wilderness, by the River Jordan, amidst the crowds seeking forgiveness prophecy takes on skin... and Jesus, the 'greater one', who will baptise with the Spirit', looks to John for baptism.
This gospel does not have any conversation between the two cousins: no John looking shocked or confused, objecting to such a request.
No editorial theological aside explaining why Jesus, as the Son of God, felt the need to undergo a baptism of repentance and forgiveness.
The act of baptism is dealt with in a simple, straightforward sentence. 
And we, as those watching the scene play out in our minds, are left to wonder what it was all about without the comfort of an easy answer.
Mystery.
And then a further mystery:
the heavens torn open echoing Isaiah's cry [64:1] 'o that you would tear open the heavens', the dove-like Spirit, the voice affirming Jesus as 'Beloved'.

This is such a rich text: rich in imagery, symbolism, mystery.

And in brief:
what catches my eye at the moment is the nature of John's baptism and the response; it would, of course, given rituals of repentance and forgiveness happen to be the focus of my thesis.
Forgiveness is a powerful two-edged tool - to seek and receive it, as well as to give it.
There's something cathartic about it; a liberating act for both giver and receiver that aids the process of closure and moving on.   
And it's something that continues to fascinate me, which is just as well, given I do have this thesis to write....

definitions on a postcard: 'church'

I've been thinking about the word 'church' for quite some time now.
What is it?
How do we define it?
And how does the way in which we define it impact the way we are,
who we are,
what we do,
where we do it,
why we do it?

Do we too often recite the old familiar mantra: 'the church is not a building, it is the people who are church' but get too easily weighed down by the demands of bricks and mortar?  Heating bills, insurance to pay, ongoing maintenance, roof repairs....
Do we meet together to worship God, or come and pay homage to an impressive building?  Yes, this last question is pure rhetoric; it is not quite as black and white as this.
Is church about structure that goes beyond a physical building?
A structure involving a whole raft of whizz-bang programs and events, often trying to continue even as resources of people, time, skills, money, are depleted?
There's so much baggage with the word 'church' - the demands of upkeep, administration, organisation - occupy our minds and hearts to the point that we get into the way of thinking that church is about all this peripheral 'stuff'.
It's not.
We sometimes get so caught up in this peripheral business: doing SWOT analysis, creating fundraising targets, putting the need for efficiency before all else, striving to be hip and relevant... whilst quietly feeling like we've not done enough, failed to achieve, have somehow missed the point, have tried and been found sadly wanting.
 
I wonder how we find a way to better fine-tune and clarify what we mean when we say 'church'?
A way that will help us not to confuse structures created to assist the work of the church and the demands of bricks and mortar, and of obligations towards our ecclesiastical framework, from what is actually the church... us?
I suspect, if we can, not only will be less weighed down and exhausted, we might have a little more time for God, and others.

This is just a rather simplistic starter for ten.  More pondering to come....

Rorate coeli desuper...

NC Communion table: panel inserts by the wondrous Theo

All has been a little quiet on the blogging front recently: have been up to my oxters in domestic abuse, slander, and blood feud... of the 15-16th century kind. 
In the meantime, Advent, that waiting time, has fairly sped on and suddenly Christmas is just around the corner.  
On Friday last, we had our annual lessons and carols service at New College, which was a superbly put together event by friend Fran, with a band of merry helpers, and a jolly good turnout of folk.  A superb mix of scripture and poem and song, plus a 'just managing to hit the right note exactly' brief reflection from my old boss at St. Giles, the Very Rev. Gilleasbuig Macmillan, provided a gentle and warm way in which to signal the nearing end of term [there were still a couple of exams to take place in some cases] and waiting time of Advent.  
Amongst the various readings, I was given William Dunbar's poem On the Nativity of Christ to read which, given its reference to synnaris and penance, was rather apt.  The poem has a wonderful 'shout out joy to all the heavens' feel about it and has been given several musical settings; fabby secondary supervisor Dr P. sang me snatches of one setting later over mulled wine.

      
On the Nativity of Christ

RORATE coeli desuper!
   Hevins, distil your balmy schouris!
For now is risen the bricht day ster,
   Fro the rose Mary, flour of flouris:
   The cleir Sone, quhom no cloud devouris,
Surmounting Phebus in the Est,
   Is cumin of his hevinly touris:
   Et nobis Puer natus est.

Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis,
   Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir,
And all ye hevinly operationis,
   Ster, planeit, firmament, and spheir,
   Fire, erd, air, and water cleir,
To Him gife loving, most and lest,
   That come in to so meik maneir;
   Et nobis Puer natus est.

Synnaris be glad, and penance do,
   And thank your Maker hairtfully;
For he that ye micht nocht come to
   To you is cumin full humbly
   Your soulis with his blood to buy
And loose you of the fiendis arrest,
   And only of his own mercy;
   Pro nobis Puer natus est.

All clergy do to him inclyne,
   And bow unto that bairn benyng,
And do your observance divyne
   To him that is of kingis King:
   Encense his altar, read and sing
In holy kirk, with mind degest,
   Him honouring attour all thing
   Qui nobis Puer natus est.

Celestial foulis in the air,
   Sing with your nottis upon hicht,
In firthis and in forrestis fair
   Be myrthful now at all your mycht;
   For passit is your dully nicht,
Aurora has the cloudis perst,
   The Sone is risen with glaidsum licht,
   Et nobis Puer natus est.

Now spring up flouris fra the rute,
   Revert you upward naturaly,
In honour of the blissit frute
   That raiss up fro the rose Mary;
   Lay out your levis lustily,
Fro deid take life now at the lest
   In wirschip of that Prince worthy
   Qui nobis Puer natus est. 

Sing, hevin imperial, most of hicht!
   Regions of air mak armony!
All fish in flud and fowl of flicht
   Be mirthful and mak melody!
   All Gloria in excelsis cry!
Heaven, erd, se, man, bird, and best,
   He that is crownit abone the sky
   Pro nobis Puer natus est! 

                            William Dunbar, 1460-1522

'six minst pyes of an indifferent biggnesse'

An archivist friend of mine passed this one along, and timely and seasonal it is too.
So, here for your delight and delectation, an Early Modern recipe for mince pies from 1624, found in a file of Charles I.
Amongst the ingredients, I quite liked 'reasons of the sunn' - raisins.
History, the gift that just keeps on giving...
Let me know how you get on with the recipe, and feel free to share the results ;p

tearing open the heavens... Advent One

          Isaiah 64: 1-9 ...

 O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence— 

as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil— 

to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence! 

When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence. 

From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, 

no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him. 

You meet those who gladly do right, those who remember you in your ways. 

But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed.

We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. 

We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. 

There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; 

for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity. 

Yet, O Lord, you are our Father; 

we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. 

Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord, and do not remember iniquity forever. 

Now consider, we are all your people. 

The Old Testament reading for Advent 1b is a deep, passionate cry from the heart: calling on God to come, to make known his presence, to rip the heavens apart by way of announcing he is here with us.
I love the drama of it.

And yet, in the midst of heavens being rent asunder, of mountains quaking, of fire kindling into a blaze, are the words:
'when you did awesome deeds that we did not expect...'
Telling words, these.
In the cry for God to come and do awesome deeds, there is a subtle indication that even while the cry is made, we are still taken by surprise when God answers.
Is there a recognition implicit in these words that while we might cry out for mighty deeds, we are a little worried that they may actually happen?
Alternatively, that we are not in the least of the mind-set that they actually will...and that our invocations are made quite blithely?
I'm reminded of the Narnia books and the talk of Aslan who is 'not a tame lion, you know.'
In our worship, in word and sign and symbol, is there a strange parallel occuring?
On the one hand, saying words and performing actions that indicate that we are followers of one who indeed can rend the heavens....
On the other, oddly domesticating our rituals, organising worship in such a way that it resembles a rather dull business meeting, and in the process attempting to de-claw the wild, unpredictable, awesome God who we call upon... and who will rather upset the apple-cart by doing all that decidedly messy awesome-type stuff.
Friend Fran tells a fab. story of the making of the movie 'The Greatest Story Ever Told' -
John Wayne, at the scene of the crucifixion delivers his line: 'Truly this man was the son of God.' 
The director stops and asks Wayne if he could perhaps say it with a little more awe.  Wayne nods, the cameras roll, and he utters the memorable line:
'Aww, truly this man was the son of God.'
In our worship to God, in our expectations of God, are we more 'awww' than awe, I wonder? 
And how might we recapture the latter this Advent, through this coming church year, and throughout the rest of our lives?

ecuthingumywhat'sit

Chapel, World Council of Churches, Switzerland

In 2010, a small group of New College ministry students and a couple of our Prof's went on an educational trip to Geneva.  We were there for just under a week, it was fab., and I blogged a wee bit about it here. 

One of the days saw us spend time at the World Council of Churches [WCC] and then head off after lunch to the Ecumenical Institute at Bossey, where studies in ecumenism can be undertaken for short concentrated periods, or up to Masters level.  At both places we were met with hospitality, shown around, the work discussed.  A good day for getting some thoughts going.  However, what has stuck with me was a comment made by a fellow student on the bus heading back to Geneva:
'What's the point of ecumenism, it's not like they're going to become Christians, is it?'
I remember my eyes slightly popping out of my head and inwardly sighing at the same time....
Nevertheless, his comment has stuck with me and this week seems to have popped up back into my thoughts once again.

I got to thinking about how there seems to be a very huge disconnect:
on one hand there are the professional international ecumenical structures and people within them who produce reports, host conferences, create resources, and of course do a heck of a lot more besides. 
Ecumenism at the corporate level. 
On the other, there's ecumenism that bubbles up at the local level: a group of churches of different backgrounds and traditions working together on specific projects, or occasionally sharing worship, joint study groups, etc.
My sense is that the disconnect is a communicational one. 
Does ecumenism shoot itself in the foot by the way information is shared - or not shared, or the manner in which it is shared? 
Does ecumenism at the 'top' get caught up in the big structures that it forgets to provide information to folk at the local end? 
If it does provide information is it written in the language of 'the corporation', creating reports that obscure information? 
Who does it pass the information on to? 
Are initiatives, and the ongoing work of ecumenism shared with a very select group within ecumenical corporate/ academic/ theological groups? 
Is this lack of effective communicating creating a growing suspicion of ecumenical work at the very top echelons - money spent on junkets and talk-fests, etc.? 
Or is the lack of information such that folk don't really think about ecumenism enough to be either suspicious, lukewarm, or excited about it? 
Coupled with all of that, even the very word 'ecumenism' is interpreted by different traditions in very different ways.

How do we learn to make use the work done at the higher echelons of ecumenism? 
Does it even fit at the local level? 
How do we ensure high calibre theological discussion is maintained, and also that it is shared in such a way as to make it a useful and enriching resource for folk in the pews?
How do we demonstrate that ecumenism / working together can be a powerfully enriching thing, a useful way in which to marshal limited resources as we work together - rather than reinventing the wheel in our own small corner?
How do we market ecumenism and make it sexy? 

Still thinking.
I suspect it's not one of those instant quick-fix solution type matters...!

peas, perfect peas...

 

I haven't written for a while, she said, stating the blindingly obvious.
Immersed in sin and penance, me.  Well, pre-Reformation sin and penance in Scotland, at any rate.  I had thought that this particular thesis section, c. 16-18 000 words, was going to be a little more straightforward: the research was fab. but the writing has been like getting blood out of a stone, however, it is getting there and the time away at St Deniol's did help.  The more I write, the more details I find I have to put in, whether in the body of the text or in footnotes and I was quite impressed by the recent heavily bibliographical footnote of 487 words.  Friend Fran commented that it had finally become a 'real' thesis!   In the meantime, I keep forgetting that while I know about various bits and pieces, it still needs to be shown in some way on paper that I do, for examination purposes...and find myself trogging back over paragraphs hoping that I've made some reference or other to background, or given an appropriate definition of a term.  If I ever get this whole thing done and actually pass the PhD, I am hoping that organising a possible book will be a much more straightforward process.
Well, I can kid myself on.

Thinking along things that are also not quite straightforward... 
this Sunday just gone was Remembrance Sunday, a day with lots of whirling thoughts, emotions, and symbols.  A trainee pal of mine was slotted to preach and so I had gone along to quietly cheer her on.  I was particularly aware of when I went off into 'sermon loop' space, that is, the time during the sermon where a word of phrase sends you on a little train of thought to somewhere else before looping around and plugging you back into the sermon.  Given the type of Sunday, the trigger was the word 'peace' and I heard the sermon loop train coming to take me away. 
I was reminded of a story about a friend's sister who had been having a rather trying day.  Sitting in the living room with children wanting this, or husband wanting that, she cried out plaintively 'I just want some peace!'  A hush duly descended, followed by youngest wee boy c. 3 or 4 leaving the room and then reappearing and, in an effort to comfort his mummy, quietly handing her a bag of frozen peas.

It was a brief thought, followed by an even briefer one as I mused on how often we misunderstand what peace is....

Gladstones, Gladstones everywhere, but not a choc to eat

And back to thinking of my stay at St Deniol's / Gladstone's Library.

Wonderful.
Wonderful...
and
yes, rather wonderful.

Fab. accommodation, fab and friendly staff, fab food - tho' alas, no small chocolate bars to buy and surreptitiously snack on in the dark reaches of the night, as opposed to the dark reaches of the library, because, as you know: 

eating in libraries is wrong, dear ones. 

*looks over glasses in a severe manner*

Happily got into a routine of falling out of the most comfy bed in Christendom and being fed breakfast
before walking to the library down the corridor festooned with icons and statues of the great man, Gladstone.
Then having worked, not pfaffed [miracle!!], sashaying back along the row upon rows of non-smiling Gladstones for a little smackeral of lunch, a post-prandial walk 'round the grounds, and then back to the desk and work.
Eventually, the delights of good food in the evening, not cooked by me - and no washing up, yay - and then retiring to the drawing room and the fire-place for one's coffee.

Really, a super place and I'm looking forward to spending two weeks there in February to get cracking on more writing: I actually got some work done.
Having seen the place in the autumn, it will be quite lovely to see it in the first flush of spring.

Just a shame that on the way down I stupidly forgot my greatcoat in the overhead rack as I changed trains at Crewe.
Lost:
coat
hat
scarf
leather gloves
full set of house keys
flash drive with back up files and scanned maps for thesis...

Having tried lost property and other avenues - with the very helpful Virgin folk [not ironic, they were lovely] - I am still without these.
Somewhere out there, in the wilds of the UK I have a vision of a black overcoat being ferried back and forth between train stations, wandering far from home....

Thankfully, I didn't have my phone or wallet in the coat, so it could have been quite a lot worse.
Again, I reflect on the truth:

of all the things I've lost in life,

it's my mind I miss the most....

Mind, I do think the library would make a killing marketing a line in chocolate Gladstones... jus' sayin'