Living Wittily

Steadfast love in a spasmodic era

Today I'm blogging at Hopeful Imagination on "steadfastness in a spasmodic era". I wonder if instead of urgent activism, there are times when the church's steadfast stance on Kingdom values requires us to live in a place of necessary tension - between trustful waiting and impatient longing for justice.

Anyway - you may want to go look.

And no - my lost book isn't yet found by Easyjet. I feel a parable coming on about the lost book - not sure if it ends with angels in heaven rejoicing or gnashing of teeth.

Confessions of a bibliophile - culpable carelessness

This is a real confession. A genuine mea culpa. Of all the stupid, reprehensible, careless demonstrations of absent minded irresponsibility....

Realised this morning that I left my book on the Easyjet plane from Bristol.

Wouldn't mind if it was a pulp fiction time filler. But it was the Denise Levertov interviews, and I had annotated it and marked the good bits!

Going to trust in miracles, providence and people's good will and phone them to see if it's been handed in by some cabin cleaning crew with literary sympathies and a high functioning work-ethic.

If not will I buy it again???  Hmmmmm.

But drat it....

Brussel Sprouts, sceptical shoppers and a poem

At the farmer's market in county square, Saturday morning.

Elderly sceptical shopper picks up a 2 foot long brussel sprout stem laden with dozens of fat healthy sprouts.

Asked "Whit ur ye supposed tae dae wi this"?

Clyde Valley farmer, "Some folk are cuttin back on Christmas trees and puttin' lights on them, by the way."

Can't convey on this blog the exact content of the sceptical shopper's even wittier muttered suggestion about alternative uses for a brussel sprout tree with electrical potential!

But the score was Sceptical Shopper 1 - Clyde Valley Farmer 0. Not so much an own goal as an attempted clearance by an over-confident defender that was hammered back into his own net by a far too quick striker.

Made a dreich december morning considerably brighter.

On a more Advent note I came across this quizzical short poem in First Things, who allow this reproduction provided it's acknowledged and not commerically used.

The Annunciation

by Samuel Menashe

Copyright (c) 2008 First Things (August/September 2008).

She bows her head
Submissive, yet
Her downcast glance
Asks the angel, “Why
For this romance,
Do I qualify?”

Winter festivals, Christmas carols and religious freedom.

 

Christmas carol ban on school choir

Last Updated: Friday, 12 December 2008, 00:58 GMT

A school choir has been banned from singing Christmas carols at a festive celebration because organisers wanted to "remove any religious content", it was claimed.

About 60 pupils from Arthur Bugler Junior School, in Stanford-le-Hope, Essex, had been due to perform at the Corringham Winter Festival, in Corringham, Essex.

But after the youngsters had finished rehearsals, organisers told them their role would not "dovetail" with the event, local Conservative councillor Danny Nicklen said.

...........................................................

Not sure what to make of this. You can Google the details and get every viewpoint from the Sun to the Telegraph, Channel 4 to BBC.

But leaving aside the obvious observation that Christmas has just a modicum of religious content, and ignoring the obviously awkward semantic evidence (Christ - mas, for goodness sake) – what is going on here?

 This isn’t a move to avoid religious discrimination, but a decision which discriminates against religion. In a pluralist society are all those who have religious affiliations, who live by religious traditions, or who wish to celebrate the contribution of religion to our cultural history and contemporary reality to be denied that opportunity on locally sponsored events? Is this then, the organisers' way of educating young people into attitudes of respect for the other, tolerance of the different, acknowledgement of the richness that comes from cultural diversity?

 As a Baptist my interest here is not so much on behalf of offended Christianity. My reluctance to laugh at this level of PC stupidity is directly related to my convictions about religious liberty and tolerance and the defence of religious freedoms. Quite apart from the nonsense of a celebration at this time of the year that wishes to exclude religious content, (winter festivals have long pagan roots and are by definition religious ritual), my resistance is to the underlying agenda and assumed powers of those who wish to re-invent religious festivals by redefining them to secular ends, as if local prejudice could be the arbiter of what is culturally, humanly and socially important.

 Presumably the good Councillors had a problem with the idea of a “Wonderful Counsellor”; or do organisers have no great solidarity with sentiments such as “peace on earth and mercy mild”; or couldn't they cope with the imaginative excesses of “light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings”. But counsel, peace, mercy and healing are important human aspirations, essential to the health of the world community, and they are not the exclusive spiritual property of any faith tradition. But when such faith traditions wish to celebrate the great themes and festivals, I expect those who represent local people to embody those attitudes of citizenship, mutual respect and indeed tolerance that they wish to inculcate in others, including and especially our young people.

 Oh – and the time and energy and enjoyment of all those young people's practising and rehearsing deserved better than this display of pp - political petulance / politicial philistinism. The pc (politically correct) thing to do would be to affirm, encourage, understand and reward what is good in a community - including religious celebration. And if there was a breakdown of communication, and the carols didn't 'dovetail' with the winter festival theme, at what stage does the 'theme' become more important than affirming the young people from the community the Festival is supposed to be for?

 

The problem is, "If we're not careful....."

Massacre in Mumbai.
Kidnap of Karen Matthews.
Murder of Baby P.
IED's in Iraq and Afghanistan (Improvised Explosive Device).
Murder of Vicky Hamilton
Violent riots in Greece
Debates on assisted, now televised, suicide
Cholera in Zimbabwe.

Some of the week's news. It's hard not to develop defence mechanisms. There's only so much information the mind can process, only so much weight of moral evil mind and conscience can evaluate. There's only so much suffering and human anguish the heart can feel with and feel for, before we begin to care less, and if we're not careful, finally couldn't care less.

Eventually then, if we're not careful, we become accustomed to familiar reports of bloody violence, abuse of children, politically driven brutalisation of peoples, the orchestrated moves of deregulated power. The moral danger of saturation news coverage, with detailed and graphic reporting, authoritative comment and skilled techniques of image, word and story, is that it eventually sets the emotional, mental and moral tone of our worldview. If we're not careful. And we will interpet the world politically, economically, ecologically, sociologically, demographically, militarily, - from multi-perspectives, except the theological. If we're not careful.

 Advent keeps us careful. Advent is Magnificat, an alternative worldview, theology at loggerheads with power politics. Advent is Jesus, a name not to conjure with, but to speak as God's embodied promise of peace. Advent is Emmanuel, God with us, truth to keep in the heart and ponder. Advent is, to live in the light of the coming of God as Advent people. Advent is a worldview illuminated by hope.  

Poetry and Theology - interim reflections

During these sabbatical months I've quietly pursued my interest in conversations that might be possible between theology and poetry. I am interested in how the different approaches of these two disciplines can be mutually enriching to matters of life, truth and meaning. As a theologian-pastor I've long felt it important to listen to voices that speak in a different tone, from other perspectives, about life, truth and meaning. I know such pastorally responsive listening includes philosophy, the sciences, ethical and social reflection, and cultural voices in music, film and other media. But it's the particular discipline of poetry that currently fascinates me; and by discipline I mean human creativity bent to artistic purpose for the common good.

Now I recognise that such a view of poetry could become reductionist and utilitarian, a form of theological imperialism that wants to lay tribute on whatever can be used to theological advantage, without thought of poetry's right to self-determination. At the same time though, there are undoubtedly poets whose work flows from inner depths of experience that resonate profoundly and sympathetically with theological concerns. When theology makes comprehensive truth claims the poet more modestly demurs, "instead of saying that's true, I could say, there's truth in that..." This altogether more tentative approach to the world and our experience,is rooted in responsible and responsive openness to what is seen, listened to and cared about. This makes the poet an important reference point for theological convictions, which without pastoral rootedness and lived actuality ossify into truth claims lacking that purchase on human embodiedness that alone gives them credibility.

What does the systematic theologian make of Seamus Heaney's claim that the poet "enters and explores and exceeds himself by entering and exploring and exceeding the language"? The Word became flesh and dwelt among us - that is, the truth of God, embodied in the Word made flesh, entered, explored and exceeded all the languages of human life. Theology therefore exists as a process of articulation happily and necessarily incapable of ultimate success - likewise poetry. Both poetry and theology are only possible on the understanding that articulation of our ultimate concerns is proximate, provisional - because the perfect poem is not so much the one that pins truth down in final form, but the that which enables truth to be transformative of how we see the world and how therefore we henceforth and now live in the world. Here's Heaney again talking of what he had hoped for one of his poetry collections:

I wanted readers to open the book and walk into a world they knew behind and beyond the book, but with a feeling of being clearer about their place in it than they would be in real life, a feeling of being stayed against confusion... I wanted the journey to be as matter of fact as a train journey, but to produce the sensation a train journey always produces, a sense that the whole thing is a dream taking place behind glass, so that arriving at the station is indeed like arriving at the end of Keats's 'Ode' and being tolled back to your sole self.

The poet's role, and the gift of her poetry, is to enable the reader to journey towards a clearer view of their place in the world, because they see the world differently. That might equally serve as a vitalising vision of a genuine pastoral theology, in which words about God are carefully shaped and spoken, where journeys are undertaken together, and when in the miracle of life and truth, human transformation is earthed in that grace ad infinitum which was embodied in the Word made flesh, and which is given as the light of every person.

"...the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not"
Our language neither comprehends by intellectual control, nor encompasses by systematic constructions, nor extinguishes by exhaustive explanation. From the poet the Christian theologian could learn intellectual and spiritual attitudes more in keeping with the source and style of Christian theology in the Incarnation. Kneeling before mystery, waiting in contemplative trustfulness, giving voice to questions of justice, meaning and faithful living, pushing outwards the boundaries of faith and understanding - and always in language not fully up to the task, but within which all stories must be told.

Happy 400th Birthday John Milton

Today is the Quartercentenary of the birth of John Milton, a towering presence in English poetry and a significant player in the political theory and machinations of the 17th Century. The masterpiece Paradise Lost is a tour de force of theology as well as poetry, though for some a theology inadequately Christian. Milton's influence on poetry, and his contributions to political and moral thought have decisively shaped English culture.

Years ago I learned by heart his sonnet "On His Blindness", one of the most moving statements of non-resignation I know; I'm not at all sure that in this sonnet Milton is resigned to providence, and I sense behind the poem lies deep complaint, not silenced by the reply of "patience to prevent that murmur". In any case today is Milton's 400th birthday, and I've been reading some of those lines which poured from the quill of "that one Talent". Here's his sonnet "On His Blindness":

WHEN I consider how my light is spent
         E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
         And that one Talent which is death to hide,
         Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
         My true account, least he returning chide,
         Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
         I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
         Either man's work or his own gifts, who best
         Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
         And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
         They also serve who only stand and waite.

Advent and "My personal revenge"

My personal revenge will be your children's
right to schooling and to flowers.
My personal revenge will be this song
bursting for you with no more fears.
My personal revenge will be to make you see
the goodness in my people's eyes,
implacable in combat always
generous and firm in vistory.

My personal revenge will be to greet you
"Good Morning!" in the streets with no beggars,
when instead of locking you inside
they say, "Don't look so sad"
When you, the torturer,
daren't lift your head.
My personal revenge will be to give you
these hands you once ill-treated
with all their tenderness intact.

Tomas Borge was a leader of the Sandinista Revolutionary Front, imprisoned and tortured in Nicaragua during the struggles of the 1960's and 1970's. After the Nicaraguan revolution in 1979 he became Minister for the Interior, and faced his jailers and torturers in court. Given the freedom to choose the form and severity of punishment, he clearly stated his desired revenge - he chose to forgive them and in the courtroom declared them forgiven.

The above words are the song written by Luis Enrique Meja Godoy based on this redemptive scandal. Advent is a good time to remember events like this. As Harriet Walters said introducing the poem, this "is not wooly wishful thinking from a comfy armchair. It comes from the front line".

Advent Reading: A Thousand Splendid Suns

 There are plenty reviews of this novel, and no need to add to the superlatives and hesitations of established critics. I read this book in keeping with my Advent goal of reading several novels that take me into countries, culture's and views of the world very different from my own. This book about the struggles and courage to endure of women in Afghanistan, spanning the 30 years from the Soviet invasion, the resistance of the Mujahideen to the fall of the Taliban, is an apologetic for those same immensely resilient women. If at times Hosseini comes close to stereotyping the central characters, that is because as a novelist he has set out with deliberate apologetic intent.

The interweaving of violence, at once intentional and random, domestic and military, with human qualities of love, courage, forgiveness and unselfish kindness, creates throughout the novel a constant tension of low-key menace that at times erupts into catastrophe and loss - and made it hard for me to read on. And through it all two women, thrown together by circumstances at once inevitable and tragic, and yet through which they discover ways of transcending fear, hate and suspicion, find in their relationship a final resolution both redemptive and passionately defiant of the forces that destroy.

I heard Khaled Hosseini interviewed on radio, explaining why he had worked so hard to portray the harsh realities of life for women and children in the recent history of his country. His capacity to portray the inner lives of the two key characters Mariam and Laila, I found uncannily persuasive, unflinching in exploring their aching loss, describing the inner impact of systemic dehumanising treatment, portraying their protective tenderness to their children. There is harrowing realism in the scenes of brutality, but I never found  them gratuitous, though at times near overwhelming. Why so much pain? Such scenes were however powerfully convincing, evoking in me responses of deep anger, particularly towards male characters whose religious rigidity or collusion in structures of cultural and social oppression of women, enabled, indeed required, such oppressive treatment systemic and sanctioned. There are times when imaginative literature of this quality is more effective than graphic TV footage - more morallly disconcerting, more emotionally galvanising. If that makes it a lesser novel, then perhaps there are times when the requirements of making truth heard are more urgent than the demands for technical literary excellence

Written by an Afghan novelist, set in contemporary international events, using the microcosms of two women caught up in personal tragedies that intersect, confronting in vivid storytelling the realities behind that evil euphemism "collateral damage", this is a novel intentionally making a point. Yet doing so not with comic-strip caricature, but by imaginative realism, creative empathy, and profound moral maturity in the handling of the unpredictable ambiguities and urgent choices that war and violence force on the innocent.

For these reasons, despite its apologetic tone, I still think this is a great novel - because it is a story hard for economically comfortable, culpably cocooned Western minds to credit unless it is writ large in the emotional drama of suffering and redemption. By which I mean it deals with immense issues of what it means to be human in a brutal world, to endure and sacrifice for the sake of the other. Great also because it is I believe a morally honest book. Under the Mujahideen and the Taliban the brutal violence against women, the suppression of women's educational and cultural potential, the warlords' complacency about women and children as necessary casualties on the road to influence and political power, is a story that both needs to be told and needs to be heard. Hosseini is not suggesting the situations in this book are universal in Afghanistan - then or now. But they are not uncommon. The great novelist is as necessary as the great journalists, poets, reporters, photographers and other chroniclers of our times.

I wanted to read several books that would widen my perspective - this one did, and I hope enlarged my capacity to understand, and care, more. The very strangeness of its context and tragedy, took me much deeper into the why of the Incarnation - a world broken but beautiful, where evil often flourishes but where love endures, and God is.

Living wittily, but not always comfortably, in the marketplace

Walking through Buchanan Galleries (Glasgow's upmarket shopping mall), past the open stalls in the walkways. Ahead of me two assistants at a cosmetics and cream stall for men and women are accosting passers-by to come and try the various beauty products and processes for sale. The three people ahead of me were all stopped, invited and given an advertising flyer. I wasn't. I suppose they recognise a lost cause, eh?

Sitting in one of our favourite coffee haunts that does the most outrageously good meringues - so big I haven't risked one yet! The three women meeting up for their afternoon refills are asked for their order. Two of them go for cakes to die for - the third says, "Ah'll go fur the low calorie option. Kin ye gie me a meringue wi' less cream?" That would be called creative calorie accounting then?

In Borders I'm engrossed in the poetry section. A tall man in a leather jacket, iron filings for hair, says to no-one in particular and anyone who's listening, "Onybody heard of Edgar Allen Poe? He writes stuff". I asked him if it was for a present, and was it poetry or stories. It was stories he was after - his daughter was "intae that stuff". We headed to the fiction, arranged alphabetically, came to P and there was Poe's tales. "Ah don't usually come intae bookshops, ken. And there's too many books in here onyway." Decided not to disagree, since by then we were getting on fine.

Later, on the hunt for a fleecy throw of a particular colour for someone who'd asked, noticed Primark sells 8 pairs of cotton socks for £2. That's 25 pence a pair. Today they are accused of paying 7p an hour to workers in Bangladesh where there is 70% food inflation and the going rate of pay has stayed at 7p for 2 years (£19 per month). War on Want (see here) accuses Primark, Asda and Tesco of not matching previously given commitments to ethical standards of pay in developing countries. They of course have their answers - but am I the only one that thinks 8 pairs for £2 means somebody somewhere is getting a very bum deal? Who? Not us. Not Primark. So who?

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