Living Wittily

A Prayer for the Sinners Against the Highway Code!

Driving down the peripheral road on the way to the Community Cafe at Montrose.

 

Road works ahead sign, indicating inside lane closed and warning slow down workers on verge.

 

Move to outside lane and slow down to 50mph

 

Large white car tail-gating me trying to make me go faster - I don't.

 

As soon as it's clear I move to the inside lane - large white car sails past the driver shaking his head and saying something that wasn't a prayer.

 

That's OK - I prayed for him, along the lines, "Oh Lord, may the dear man learn patience, and may his four tyres slowly deflate overnight to teach him his first lesson. Amen.

 

Or words to that effect.

Heron Haiku

Whimsical Haiku
"Been here for ages,
being inconspicuous -
please - just go away!"

Frederick Buechner: The Man I Never Met, But Who Met Me in the Pages of His Books.

Around 35 years ago I discovered Frederick Buechner as a novelist, pastor, and writer. Buechner was most at home in imaginative story-telling that was both down to earth and unembarrassed about the traffic of prayer and thought that goes between earth and heaven. It was in the front room of our manse in Aberdeen, the monthly meeting of ecumenical clergy, about eight of us. For a decade, over each year we met to plan inter church occasions of fellowship, mission and worship. That group was the most effective, enjoyable and able gathering of clergy I have ever had the joy of being with over a good few years. We were friends, we differed respectfully, we co-operated at every opportunity, we supported each other in our varied forms of ministry. Every month we spent a whole morning doing this, and the first hour we discussed the chapter of the book we were reading together. Books we read included John Zeisler's Commentary on Romans, one of the first to weave the implications of the (then) new perspective on Paul; The Persistence of Faith, by Jonathan Sacks, at the time recently appointed as Chief Rabbi; the biography of George MacLeod by Ron Fergusson; and we read Frederick Buechner.

The book we chose was Telling Secrets, the third volume of his memoirs, 106 pages of wise candour about what goes on in the heart of a son, a father, a husband, a pastor, a novelist - all of them one person trying to integrate each with the other in a life of faith in which the love of God was both gift and demand. That book occasionally brought tears to our eyes, tears of recognition of our own hopes and bereavements, failures and achievements, our prayers, promises and the realities that often collided with them. Buechner is that good, or at least so honest he exposes his readers' easy dishonesties, and speaks compassion into souls trained in unsparing self-criticism.

Over the years I have read Buechner, in that way commended in Thomas Cranmer's lovely collect - "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest." Buechner I have found to be that best kind of friend to have as a voice in a book; nourishing, honest about his own inadequacies and confident in the adequacy of the grace of God. His essays are long conversations of insight and wisdom into what makes human experience both fascinating and ordinary. His sermons are beautifully written, not as literary, but as human documents, in which the exegesis of the text invariably becomes the exegesis of the human heart and the exposition of the grace, mercy and love of God. His theological musings, gathered in several books combine witty aphorisms and sharply observed truth as applied to the struggles of ordinary folk trying to make their lives work.

Few writers have rescued me as often as Buechner. I don't mean that in any exaggerated sense of major crises. I mean rescued me from the cynicism that can grow like algae on the surface of a pastor's heart' I mean rescued me from complacency about the miracle of life itself as one-off gift and as lifelong responsibility; I mean rescued from ever thinking that God's call, my vocation, was ever up to me or dependent on my skill, education, even perseverance. No, Buechner gave us what for me remains the finest anatomy of vocation:

"The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet."

Deep. It's one of Buechner's favourite words. Depth not superficiality; the truth beneath the surface of things; finding our treasure buried under habits of self-deception; working hard as a miner in search of the ore out of which is smelted the precious metal of a life worth living because a life worth giving. Diving deep into who we are in order to become who we are meant to be, and doing so in the faith and trust and hope that is nurtured from the depths of divine love. Not for nothing did Buechner study with people such as Paul Tillich, Reinhold Niebuhr and James Muilenburg. These were theologians familiar with the depths; and from them Buechner learned to dive, to dig, and to search for the truth of the human heart in its hunger for God, and meaning, and purpose, and the joy of integrating all three of these into a life well lived.

A paragraph from his remarkable essay, 'Adolescence and the Stewardship of Pain' will show you what I mean about the candour, compassion and self-deprecating wisdom of Buechner:

"I have no qualifications for speaking about adolescence with anything like authority except in one respect. I am sixty four years old. I have fathered children. I have written books. I have letters after my name and an ecclesiastical title before it. But to call me an adult or grown up is an oversimplification at best and a downright misnomer at worst. I am not a past participle but a present participle, even a dangling participle. I am not a having-grown up one but a growing-up on, a groping up one, not even sure much of the time just where my  growing and groping are taking me or where they are supposed to be taking me. I am a verbal adjective in search of a noun to latch onto, a grower ins earch of  a self to grow into...I speak about adolescence with authority because in many ways I am still in the throes of it. This is my only qualification for addressing myself to the subject here. I am a hybrid, an adult adolescent to whom neither term alone does full justice..." (The Clown in the Belfry, 84-5)

I read that and recognise a voice I can trust not to overload my conscience with all those positivity memes that tell me I can be anything I want to be. What I can be is someone on the way, a pilgrim on a sacred journey towards who and what it is God called me to be and made me for. And lurking in the background of so much that Buechner writes those aspirational words of Paul:

"Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ."

 

 

  

O Love, that will not let me go...

Yesterday in the supermarket, a dad with two children and a trolley.

One child started to scream and shout in distress. It sounded like a tantrum - but only if we lack imagination, compassion and some understanding.

 

The second child didn't seem too bothered. Dad spoke firmly and took and held the hand of the distressed child, who refused to be calmed or comforted, and continued to be very upset. Dad held on to his hand.

 

Then Dad stood in the queue with his trolley, speaking calmly to the child, ignoring the responses of some others around him, and eventually the lad settled and walked with his family out the doors.

Sensory overload, heat exhaustion, familiar and safe routines interrupted, just too much to process by one highly sensitive mind - any combination of these or other causes.

 

And a dad whose behaviour over the ten minutes or so of his son's distress, was gentle, calm, firm and there, just there, the reassuring, patient presence that wouldn't turn away, or let go.

What that costs, day and daily, in the loving and caring for a child who feels and sees the world differently? Who knows.

 

But in those ten minutes we watched a lived out parable of the love of God in the love of a father holding firmly the hand of his child.

"God's Not Forgotten Me. Experiencing Faith in Dementia." Well worth your time.

This is an important and readable book, and a significant contribution to our understanding of dementia. Tricia Williams explores what it is like to be a person of faith, facing the onset of dementia related illness, and living through the impact of memory loss on the experience and practice of faith, and on the inner world in which faith is nurtured and nourished. I have read the research on which this book is based, and have much enjoyed this more accessible edition. The author is thoroughly conversant with current study and has thought deeply and compassionately about the care and accompaniment of people living with dementia.

 

I often hesitate to use the word "essential" in a book recommendation. But at present I'm not aware of another book based on qualitative research, analysing and exploring first-hand accounts of the experience of dementia, as it impinges on a person's felt and experienced relationship to God. The result is a book that opens up those inner worlds, and does so with imagination, compassion, and good questions for faith communities seeking to be hospitable places of welcome and support for people living with dementia. The result is a book that is, yes, essential reading on the subject.

 

Below is the endorsement I was happy to write for Tricia Williams in commendation of her work, "God's Not Forgotten Me. Experiencing Faith in Dementia."

"Williams has written a distinctive, accessible, moving and spiritually hopeful account of what it means to live with dementia. With compassionate insight and theological hopefulness, Williams offers spiritual and practical support to those who care for and accompany people living with dementia." 

Above all, this book is fair to Bultmann.

This slim book was written at the apex of Bultmann's influence and when his writings were the subject of either intense and even hostile critique, or admiring (sometimes uncritical) appropriation. It was written by a navy aircraft pilot and chaplain, who at the time of writing was Professor and Chair of Theology at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Kansas City, Missouri. In around 100 pages Ashcraft expounds the core emphases of Bultmann's thought, with sympathy, appreciation and occasional criticism. It's hard to envisage such a book emerging from the more conservative ranks of American Baptists these days.

 

Of course, Bultmann's thought has since been subjected to thorough critique and re-evaluation. There are major fault lines in both methodology and the resulting conclusions. For example, the new perspectives on Paul offer challenges to Bultmann's radical Lutheranism, his existential reading of John's Gospel faces serious questions, and the individualism of his existential approach to core doctrines such as sin, justification, salvation and eschatology does not fit well with the more contemporary interests in the political and communal impact of the New testament texts.

Also in the past decade, Hammann's definitive biography has been published, giving us far more contextual insight into the man himself, and the times he lived through and out of which his primary writings emerged.

 

But it's never wise to ignore giants, or turn your back on mountains, and by any standards Rudolf Bultmann is a massive presence looming over the past 100 years of New Testament Interpretation. As a guide to his thought, and the high stakes of mid-20th Century biblical scholarship, Ashcraft is both a lucid interpreter and an appreciative critic. Above all, he is fair to Bultmann.

It is the humanities that give us our best clues to self-understanding. 1. Replenishing the Storehouses

One of the up and coming New Testament scholars in the United States was asked in a Facebook profile to name the most influential mentor or teacher he encountered. The name he gave was Luke Timothy Johnson, one of the more prolific scholars on early Christianity. One of the most important lessons learned from Johnson is that he is a man of wide reading and consciously nurtured engagement with other areas of literature beyond his professional interests. His student mentioned especially his immersion in poetry and novels.

That resonates with me at the moment. The humanities in general are undervalued by almost all the leading criteria in Higher Education. History, languages, literature, art, music, are all very well but what contribution would graduates in these subjects make to overall employability, or how would they advance our technological prowess, how do they compare with science and engineering and business management in making our country better prepared to compete in the global marketplace? These are not irrelevant questions, and employability, advances in science and technology, and being competitive in the global market are important criteria when deciding how to allocate public funding to Universities.

But life is about more than work; and human wisdom and knowledge reaches beyond science, technology and business; and competing globally in the marketplace will not of itself make for the good life, the common good, or the furtherance and deepening of human culture, communication and symbiotic exchanges of ideas and life perspectives. For that we need fertilised imagination, creative expression, intellectual agility, verbal facility and in all of this a deepening of human curiosity about what all this other activity and productivity is for.

The humanities are at least one bulwark against the bulldozer of utilitarian ruthlessness that measures every idea and artefact by its material benefit, its economic return, and by how far it increases our sense of security through possession. To go back to where I started. A New Testament professor revels in poetry and in varieties of fiction, and in books exposing the world's brokenness and exploring the world's goodness.

That suggests a mind that maintains high levels of active curiosity about the world, human behaviour, and that inner world of the personal with which we are all more or less familiar. In other words attending to the humanities helps to replenish the storehouses of imagination, empathy, wisdom and yes, humility. And each of these sustains our own humanity, and makes for personal flourishing. 

Human beings are not machines; human life does not flourish through restrictive systems however efficient; our everyday human experience cannot merely be managed, by ourselves or by governments, as if we ever could control all contingencies and outcomes. A human life well lived is one which enriches humanity, our own and others. That takes more than level of income, possessions, work status, and ability to feed the machinery of an economy. The cultural loam out of which the rich fruits of humanity emerge is made up of diverse essential ingredients. Yes science, technology, engineering, business and trade, management and strategic development of earth's resources.

But there is also the work of developing who we are, and who we are is collectively humanity, and individually human beings. And one way or another we have to get on with each other on this planet! So. What develops our humanity? What indeed defines a human life well lived? Are we primarily economic productivity units, fitted to purpose in the economic machine? Are we primarily competing societies committed to maximising possession of wealth, goods and power? Are we intelligent creatures to be trained towards employability, or persons to be educated? And in what specific sense are these two last options different?

Because lurking behind the demise of the humanities and their falling capital in University curricula, is a now contested view of what it means to educate a person. Yes, as we grow and develop our potential it will be essential to prepare for employment; but is education as an end in itself still a thing? As education becomes more specialised in school, college and university and on into employment, at what point does education morph into training, skill set development, and life goal aspiration focused on the material outcomes to be expected from that knowledge, skill set and training?

The place of the humanities in our earliest and middle years of education remains an essential of growing up. But what about schools now cutting out music tuition, art classes, and the slow erosion of even English as an essential prerequisite, not only for the job market, but as a key that unlocks so much else that nourishes us towards full humanity. It is the humanities that give us our best clues to self-understanding. It is story and poem, song and painting, that guide us into some of our deepest emotions, and through some of our most profound and life-changing experiences. 

What am I trying to say, and why do I feel the need to say this? Once again in Scotland we are hearing of Education authorities cutting back on creative arts - that deprives our children and young adults of so much potential enrichment of life now and later. Then there is the absence in recent social and political debate, of a shared agreement on the importance of history and historical perspective; added to this a felt and at times frightening absence of agreed values as to what kind of society and culture we want. The most penetrating critiques of what is going wrong in human culture are often found in the writings of the poets, the novelists, the screenplay writers, the musicians, that is, those whose workplace is the human soul, the human mind, the human conscience, and whose remit is to expose untruth and compel reflection.

A Tale of Two Bibles.

 Two years ago my Bible was the worse for wear so I replaced it with an as new still in its box identical one, which unexpectedly turned up in the Oxfam shop.
So I started using the new one.

Last week I inadvertently left said replacement Bible in Montrose (40 miles from my desk!).

So I looked out the old one, which actually still works!

Then, just in case I was mistaken and my Bible wasn't in Montrose, I took the old one for the service today.
Result, Preacher had two Bibles - a twin engine preacher?

And despite using the new one for nearly two years, and despite them being identical, I found myself more familiar with the old one, which I've had since 1993, a gift from my friend Bob Maccini, and which has a reserved space on my desk.

Like wear and tear, and scratches and repairs on an old musical instrument, the glue, and stitches and Duct tape that holds it together are now part of the fabric and character of this particular retired, now semi-retired Bible.

No, you didn't need to know all that, but maybe I needed to write it!

    Whimsical Haiku

1
Who needs two Bibles
if the content is the same,
old yet ever new?

2
From this old Bible
has come food for the journey,
and light on the road. 

S

Familiarising Ourselves Again with the Familiar

Thought for the Day.

Monday

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

You’ll notice there is no text reference. That’s because everyone knows where to find Psalm 23! We sing this Psalm at worship and at funerals, at weddings and State occasions. Its words run in our veins. There are several texts that we learn to live with, and from which we learn to live. This week we will wander through Psalm 23 in the company of the Good Shepherd. Whatever you’re facing this week, pray that first line in your heart, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

Tuesday

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.”

Sometimes we face mountains not meadows, and white waters not still waters, and our souls are in turmoil. Say that first line again. Eventually we come to easier ground, still waters, and God renews our faith, hope and love. Till then the Good Shepherd watches over us, walks with us, and provides for us. When we are low in faith, anxious beyond peace, weary of all that’s going on, “He restores my soul.”

Wednesday

“He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

We’ve all been there. That place where we are uncertain; the place where we have to make a big decision; or the routine everyday place of home or work when it’s all getting a bit much. What do we do? Who can advise? Just as the shepherd leads the sheep and guides them in the right direction, so the Goods Shepherd leads us, goes before us, will guide us if we hear his voice and follow. Oh, and if we wander and get it wrong, the Good Shepherd will come looking for us, till he finds us. (Luke 15.4-7)

Thursday

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff they comfort me.”

There it is. The most important preposition in the life of faith. Right in the middle of this Psalm, and just after we have to think about the worst that might happen – I will fear no evil, for you are with me…” With you, in the darkest place. With you when most afraid. With you. God is our protector and the one who nourishes and refreshes, guides and provides, and no matter what, God is with us. Evil is real, fear is natural, but the Good Shepherd knows us by name and our comfort and confidence is in Him.

Friday

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

The cost of living crisis is reminding us nothing is forever, life has no guarantees, and a lot of folk are struggling to have enough to eat and enough to cook or stay warm. What God provides for us requires two responses – gratitude and generosity. Sharing, giving and having compassion are the marks of the community of Jesus, the barcode activities of the Kingdom of God. As Jesus said, “Other sheep I have who are not of this fold, these also you must bring.” Indeed. I can just hear Jesus saying, “Love your enemies, invite them to your table, to share what God has provided for you!”

Saturday  

“You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

Two brief phrases of acknowledgement and wonder. Anointing is a sign of God’s favour and that God is for us, with us, and within us by the anointing of his Spirit. Not only that, but like all God’s blessings there is more than enough. Whether it’s water turned into wine at the wedding, twelve baskets full after 5000 are fully fed, or a cup that overflows, God’s blessings just keep coming. As well as line 1 from Monday, say this one too, because it’s the distilled essence of gratitude for all God’s mercies!

Sunday

“Surely goodness and faithful love shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

So not only does the Good Shepherd go ahead of us to guide, provide, and protect, but behind us and around us is the goodness and faithful love of the Lord, who is our Shepherd. The older familiar translation, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me”, works best when we remember that ‘mercy’ translates that lovely Hebrew word (hesed). This is a covenant word, a promise that can’t be broken; as surely as God is God, his goodness and faithful love are there for us, with us, around us, and yes behind us. In other words, God has our back!

Our Response to Psalm 23

What shall I return to the Lord for all his goodness to me?

I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.

 I will fulfil my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people.

                                                                                                         (Psalm 116. 12-14)