Living Wittily

Picasso, Pentecost and Haiku

 

Picasso, Pentecost and Haiku

 

Invading Spirit,

Gatecrash our solemnity

With holy fervour.

The Church that’s drinking

Intoxicating Spirit,

Never lost for words.

 

Rushing mighty wind,

hurricane force holiness,

mission impelled church.

 

Searing tongues of flame,

“Inextinguishable blaze”,

purify our hearts.

 

Speak in other tongues,

Of love, of peace, of pardon,

People reconciled.

 

     Tower of Babel,

    Communication breakdown,
    New hermeneutic.

 

Pentecostal Gift,

As Given, Giving, Giver,

“The Go-Between God”.

                                                       Jim Gordon

Baptist Identity: who is God calling us to be now?

I continue to think about Baptist identity. Not agonise. Not worry. But think, evaluate, indulge in self criticism without indulging in self-denigration. So below I offer the final few paragraphs of my recent paper on Baptist Identity. It isn't the last word on anything, but it is a first word that needs speaking, and hearing, and then more thinking. But at some time the thinking has to become the intellectual and spiritual energy source for theological reconstruction and renewed denominational confidence. And of course I don't mean resurgent and divisive denominationalism - I mean owning and generously sharing our own identity, while encountering and humbly receiving the gift, presence and fellowship of other Christians, all equally faithful to their denominational identities. In that encounter of diversity something of the richly co-ordinated grace of God waits for us to discover - and be discovered. 

"Christian denominational identity of any kind, implies a particular theological style, a principled standpoint derived from past and present experience, and reflection on, and reinforcement of that theological style. The same is true of Baptist identity. Historic tradition judiciously re-appropriated, and contemporary practice of our living communities reconnected with core Baptist convictions, will only happen if, looking forward, we can answer the question – not who were we? - nor who are we? But who is God calling us now to be, in faithfulness to a Baptist understanding of the Gospel?

  To answer that question,

·        requires a willingness to explore and live faithfully within those historic Baptist traditions of radical discipleship that shaped and formed us

·        means being energised by Baptist convictions which will be inevitably but creatively disruptive of other evangelical ecclesiologies rooted in other than radical free church congregational principles

·        implies ongoing affirmation of the sole and absolute authority of Christ the head of the Church, and of each local church, and that as a distinctive Baptist witness radically lived out in local ecclesial community

·        is to hear and answer Christ's call to a discipleship of sacrifice, peace-making, reconciliation and imaginative following after Christ, by those whose baptism is their promise in response to God’s promise, and their dying with Christ a prerequisite of rising to newness of life.

·        To answer that question then – who is God calling us to be in faithfulness to a Baptist understanding of the Gospel – to answer that question in these ways, is to have begun to repossess that without which we are existentially disadvantaged – our identity as Baptists.

 But to do this will involve risk – of being misunderstood, of being thought old fashioned, of not paying attention and not listening to the wider constituency. The risk of denominational regression into narrowly conceived peculiarities no longer popularly owned, the risk of being accused of pushing a Baptist agenda at a time when the need for the Gospel  was never greater – as if Baptist identity and Gospel faithfulness were mutually obstructive rather than spiritually integral.

 Risk. At which stage we are called to row towards the waterfall, taking the necessary risks. As that maybe Baptist John Bunyan said, “I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot.” Baptist discipleship is simply and only that – being faithful to who Christ has called us to be, and to follow faithfully after Him, through the waters of baptism and into newness of life."

Alice Meynell: "the heart shattering secret of His way with us".

One of my favourite poems from the gloriously eclectic Oxford Book of Mystical Verse, D H S Nicholson and A H E Lee (Eds.), (Oxford 1917), 463-4. This anthology has never been revised or updated so has little in it of the 20th Century. But there are a lot of poems like this one, by minor or near forgotten poets.

This kind of poem pushes the boundaries of thought and theology, and whatever else prevents that devotional reductionism by which we try to eliminate mystery and ‘the heart-shattering secret of His way with us.’ There are lines in this poem that are worth a while of anyone's time to contemplate - maybe alongside the great Christocentric hymns of the New Testament in Colossians, Ephesians and John chapter 1.

 

Christ in the Universe, Alice Meynell.

 

With this ambiguous earth

His dealings have been told us. These abide:

The signal to a maid, the human birth,

The lesson, and the young Man crucified.       

 

But not a star of all        5

The innumerable host of stars has heard

How He administered this terrestrial ball.

Our race have kept their Lord’s entrusted Word.       

 

Of His earth-visiting feet

None knows the secret, cherished, perilous,       10

The terrible, shamefast, frightened, whispered, sweet,

Heart-shattering secret of His way with us.     

 

No planet knows that this

Our wayside planet, carrying land and wave,

Love and life multiplied, and pain and bliss,       15

Bears, as chief treasure, one forsaken grave.       

 

Nor, in our little day,

May His devices with the heavens be guessed,

His pilgrimage to thread the Milky Way

Or His bestowals there be manifest.       20       

 

But in the eternities,

Doubtless we shall compare together, hear

A million alien Gospels, in what guise

He trod the Pleiades, the Lyre, the Bear.       

 

O, be prepared, my soul!       25

To read the inconceivable, to scan

The myriad forms of God those stars unroll

When, in our turn, we show to them a Man.

MP's Expenses - duck islands, moat cleaning and ludicrously elasticated self-interest

As usual, Rowan Williams speaks with a combination of moral imagination and common sense. His most recent intervention into the outrage-fest over the abuse of the expenses system set up by MPs for MPs expresses the deeper concerns behind the scandal.

Individual Members of Parliament who have cases to answer have undoubtedly ranged between errors of judgement, to deliberate maximising of personal advantage, to outright abuse of a system intended to be generous but not to be open to wholesale exploitation. Their behaviour sparked a competition for the best verb to describe them - the winner was "trough-jostling".

The Archbishop warned that the systematic humiliation of MPs would in the long term erode public trust not only in the capacity of people to work generously and justly as MP's, but in Parliament itself and even in the entire democratic process. Already he has been rubbished by a labour peer who described Williams' conerns as rubbish. That sounds also like a response not likely to strengthen our faith in peers to conduct debate in a public discourse underpinned by levels of civic respect.

But I've felt for over a week now, that the press are now indulging in the mentality of the striptease artist or artiste. What is revealed is intended to provoke, to create hunger for more, to pull the voyeur into that half-way world between reality and fanstasy where ethical judgement and respect for the other dissolve. It is this lust for the humiliation of the other that is morally corrosive of respect, and is ultimately abusive.

There are good, honest MPs whose public record, and the expenses records, are above criticism - but we are not hearing of them. There is also a difference between those who have stepped over the imaginary but well known line of honest interpretation, using the necessary and intentional hermeneutic latitude in well conceived regulations, and those who have made a second career out of turning these same expenses criteria into a deregulated free for all expressing ludicrously elasticated self-interest - some now shown to be requiring criminal investigation.

The frequent defence that claims were within the rules exposes so much of what is wrong with contemporary ethical discourse and conceptuality. How so many MP's are to be entrusted with framing laws, paying due regard to moral, legal, economic and fiscal justice, when some of them seem incapable of making basic ethical distinctions or demnostrating rudimentary characteristics of conscience in relation their own affairs, is to be sure cause for public concern, anger, even ridicule.

So perhaps the most significant gain to come out of this scandal (original meaning was stumbling block), will not be the increased transparency of out-sourced auditing and changed rules. It will be public insistence that our public servants rediscover and recover inner personal ethical dispositions and virtues such as integrity, honesty, respect for persons, social compassion, and these as a prerequisites to public trust. Rules and auditors don't make people moral, they enforce compliance and honesty. The deeper questions are about the inner transformation of the person. I don't need ritual public executions. Genuine repentance evidenced by changes in behaviour would be a more durable outcome. 

Robert Browning's "A Death in the Desert".

"Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought."

Robert Browning's line comes from one of the very best introductions to John's Gospel - his long poem, "A Death in the Desert".

Does anyone still read Browning?

Rublev's enthroned Christ I've always thought conveys the majesty of the glory of Christ - and thus the miracle of what it meant to say, "we beheld his glory, full of grace and truth".

Some time when you want to come at John's gospel from a different route, try Browning's poem. You know how on the motorway or A road you sometimes see the sign that offers the tourist route, or the scenic route? Think about leaving the critical historical motorway for a while to meander with Browning into the mind and heart of John the ageing evangelist, reflecting on the Gospel he is composing in his head, and every now and then "stung by the splendour of a sudden thought".

Baptist Identity - Seven Spiritual Values

Seven Spiritual Values Embedded in Baptist Identity.

 ·        Sole Headship of Christ as final authority in faith and practice, as revealed in Scripture

·        Baptismal confession of faith by believers in context of worshipping community

·        Covenant faithfulness to Christ within a living community of believers

·        Gathered community as the Body of Christ, competent under God to discern together the mind of Christ

        ·       Mission as bearing witness to the world through the lived practices of the Gospel in the

          power of the risen Christ.

·        Principled separation from State control and State privilege

·        Religious freedom and tolerance as the rationale for our own claimed freedom to witness to Christ.

Baptist identity is elusive. Ways of being Baptist are so diverse that, to avoid partiality and unfair narrowness, it would be more useful to talk of Baptist identities. But I still would want to argue that all of the above provide a cluster of spiritual values which, when taken together, are integral to Baptist identity. Or am I missing something - or claiming too much?

Baptist Identity and Rowing Toward the Waterfall

Off to the Fellowship of British Baptists, a kind of Baptist summit meeting that includes representatives from the BUGB, Baptist Missionary Society, the Baptist Union of Wales and the Baptist Union of Scotland. This year we are in Birmingham. It's always a good couple of days of discussion, reflection, shared hopes and concerns, prayer, friendship, laughter, and the kind of occasion that's all too rare in lives too thirled to diaries, deadlines and to do lists.

Amongst the things we'll discuss is Baptist identity - who Baptists are, why Baptists matter and who cares anyway? Well I do for one. Not because I'm a denominational dinosaur in a post-modern, post-christian, irreversibly pluralist, unabashedly consumerist and unrepentantly fluid world. But because I happen to think that important spiritual values and theological commitments are entrusted to those whose ways of following Christ are different from mine, and mine from theirs. This isn't about denominational narrowness, but about Christian diversity; nor is the concern for a strong sense of denominational identity a way of claiming Baptists are right and others are wrong. It's a concern that we each be faithful to those truths that are part of our history and witness, thereby conserving the essential diversity of the Body of Christ, which I think is a large part of what it means to speak of the church catholic.

I do think that in the conversations that take place between the different members of the family of God, the Baptist voice brings its own insights, its own story, its own witness to what it has meant to follow faithfully after Christ. Of course meaningful conversations only happen when listening takes frequent precedence over speaking, and when the stories of those others are heard by us with humility of mind and a receptive heart, and welcomed as the gifts they are. In other words I don't think my strongly held convictions as a Baptist require me to silence or out-argue the convictions of others in order for them to retain their spiritual and theological purchase on my own life and witness. Being secure in your own denominational identity doesn't depend on questioning or diminishing the identity of others. At least not as I've tried to live out my faith.

Anyway, I've been asked to lead off the discussion on Baptist identity. I've done a wee informal paper and given it a title based on that poem of Mary Oliver I quoted a couple of weeks ago:

Rowing Towards the Waterfall: The Necessary Risk of Being Baptist.

Might do a couple of posts on it later once it's thought through a bit more carefully and had the benefit of conversation, disagreement and the friendly correctives that always improve the way we say the things we feel strongly.

Ascension, Acts of the Apostles and indiscriminate indexes

On May 21, this Thursday, the Church celbrates the Ascension of Christ, and May 31st is Pentecost, the feast of the Holy Spirit, then the following Sunday is Trinity Sunday. Decided I want to spend this high point of the Christian year and then into the "ordinary time post-Pentecost becoming familiar again with volume two of Luke's Gospel. We call it The Acts of the Apostles, but it's the story of the Gospel as it overflows from hearts into communities, then across cultural barriers, racial divisions and national boundaries.

So I'm reading my way through the new commentary on Acts by David Peterson. Now and again I'll include some of the story of the early Church in the occasional blog post. Instead of gazing wistfully at emergent church, I'm going to have a longish think about how the church emerged. I've a feeling the Holy Spirit had more than a little to do with it. The calls to co-operate with the Spirit, to be responsive to those prompts and nudges that knock us off our stride, to think new things and try again what previously "didn't work", to relinquish our grip on ideas we cherish and take into our hands trustfully that newness that by definition is unfamiliar, even untried.

In other words, we are back to questions of risk, impelled and compelled by the Spirit to innovative action, urged to subversive witness, shoved into places and circumstances where imaginative faith finds ways of undermining all those powers that frustrate the telling and living of the Good News. Peterson is a fine scholar and determined to provide reflections that do justice to the underlying theology of a book too easily assumed to be mainly history.

Now. One complaint and one compliment which I'll pass on to the publisher. To do with the indices. Compliment first. The subject index is substantial enough to be very user friendly and a helpful pointer to significant discussions - as it should be. But the author index is  so overloaded with citations that you are simply put off even trying to trace them. One writer has one work cited in the Bibliography, yet it is indexed over 150 times. But Krodel's brilliant commentary is cited once so gets one footnote! The standard commentary by the great C K Barrett has over 400 page references, and Witherington has over 300 - and all of them unsorted, a catena of numbers.

Come on!! Stop using computers to generate indices. There's no rationale or selection of the significant references, just a lumping together in consecutive page order of every citation. The result is an exercise in tedium that is simply a guaranteed turn away. Had the indexer taken a bit longer to edit this unsorted blizzarrd of data, by going through the citations retaining the most significant ones, then there might have been a point in the exercise. I want to know what Barrett thinks of the Jerusalem Council, but i don't need to know every time his name is bracketed in a footnote. As it is, the author index reads like the old logarithm tables - remember them? - and they are just as fun to use. 

Spirituality - conjugating the verb "to be".

Evelyn Underhill once observed, in her little book The Spiritual Life.

"Most people spend their lives trying to conjugate the verbs 'to want,' 'to have' and 'to keep'— craving, clutching, clinging—when all the Spirit wills us to do is to conjugate the verb 'to be.' "

This comfortably off, middle class, Anglican spiritual director, whose devotional writing is a mixture of shrewd psychology and pastoral compassion, rooted in contemplative prayer, lived those words well. I still treasure many of her books - some of them in places laughably dated, but time after time you recognise, with a perhaps questionable spiritual envy, this woman's been 'far ben' with God.

The phrase "far ben" is Scottish, used by Alexander Whyte (one of Scotland's finest preachers and most catholic spirits), to describe a shepherd he knew in his teens, who used the isolation of his days sheep herding in 1860's Glen Clova, to think and pray towards a closer walk with God.

Both Underhill and Whyte, who I'm not sure ever even knew of each other, were steeped in the literature of spirituality - and from their starting points of high traditional Anglicanism with open edges (Underhill), and Scottish militant Free Church Presybterianism in which Whyte pushed the edges outwards beyond confining narrowness, they couldn't be more different. But as one of the puritans remarked of those he admired for their piety, they both "carried the scent of the same distant country of the soul."

Reading some of their work again, along with other spiritual writers from the past century or so, I'm not persuaded, not even half convinced, that what is available in today's spiritual writing comes anywhere near the quality and spiritual perceptiveness of people like Whyte and Underhill. And without being overly judgemental, I wonder if that's because writing today is aimed at the niches of the market, rather than being an essential by-product of a heart and mind with much to say that grows with organic healthiness out of lives that are and have been "far ben" with God. 

Jigsaws and broken stories

For years now I've written a Saturday Sermon for the Aberdeen Press and Journal. It's one of the few papers left that preserves some column inches (400 words to be precise) for comments and perspectives that express Christian values and derive from Christian teaching. Not a good idea to overcook the occasion by proselytising or pushing party lines. No problem about overt Christian comment, just an assumption of courtesy and respect for a readership that is multifaith, multicultural, and may or may not be interested in a Saturday Sermon, whatever that is! Here's the script for the one published in Aberdeen today.

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

I once managed to so offend at least four people in one sermon, that I had to apologise for speaking of that which I did not fully understand. The sermon is now long forgotten, at least by me. But for some reason I took a good natured swipe at jigsaw puzzles and those who spend hours completing them. Why would you spend hours trying to piece together a picture someone else deliberately cut up into small pieces and jumbled up in a box?

 

With more courtesy than perhaps I’d shown, it was explained to me that ministers could learn as much from putting a jig-saw together as putting a sermon together. One of the jigsaw enthusiasts explained that time without number, through building a jigsaw with them, he had helped young people whose lives had fallen to pieces, whose hopes were reduced by circumstances or choices to fragments that needed fitting together again. Corners, square edges, a picture of what might be, and a supportive collaborative friend, created a place and a process where rebuilding could begin. That image has since entered my key moments of insight about how to live wisely and well.

 

Sir Kenneth Calman, Chancellor of the University of Glasgow, and a former Chief Medical Officer of Health at the Scottish office and then Westminster, is currently studying for an M.Litt on medicine and literature. Calman began as a GP, and has always been interested in patients as people, recognising the importance of the story that was each individual life. Telling of his lifelong passion for human wellbeing he mentioned an observation that reminded me of that less than proud moment many a year ago when I scoffed at those parables of pastoral care, the jigsaw builders. Someone had said: “my story’s broken, will you help me fix it?”

And there it is again. The recognition that sometimes our own story is broken, and often enough there are those we meet day in and day out whose own story is also broken. I’ve thought for a while that compassion requires imagination, an ability to wonder what it’s like for that other person to live out their story. Or having the patience to sit alongside someone whose life is in pieces and help them look for the straight edges, the corners, the picture that can still be made. Or as Jesus said, “Do for others whatever you would that others do for you.”