Living Wittily

Here is love, vast as the ocean...

"Lord, have mercy. The sea is so vast, and my boat is so small."

When life seems too much - too complex, too scary, too unpredictable, and yes, too exhausting, I come back to this prayer. It's traditionally called the prayer of the Breton fishermen. 

It's a prayer for those who feel out of their depth. A cry of the heart when the waves keep coming and every one of them gets bigger. 

It may have come as a prayer of desperation, hope clinging to an old story of disciples in a storm, the sea of Galilee a frenzy of destructive forces. And Jesus asleep.

The photo was taken the other day, the sea calm, and a small fishing boat overtaking a platform service vessel, both heading for harbour and home.

Like the sea, long periods of life can be calm, navigable, predictable, and relatively safe. Then weather patterns change and the sea transforms into threat, and we rediscover our finitude, our limits, our humanity; we are reminded of what we can't do, what we don't know, and what we cannot control.

This brief one line prayer asks for mercy, but does not tell God what to do. At most it points out the obvious, the vast realities we face, and the limited resources at our disposal.

God already knows all that. But it is deeply human to cry out for help, for mercy, for something that pushes the balance of fear towards faith, despair towards hope, and transforms that sinking feeling into a sense of being held.

The Psalms are full of such one line prayers. Cries for mercy, recognition of risk and danger, words of complaint at how hard it is - and thanksgiving for a rescue still to come but already promised by the God of mercy.

Does life always turn out like that? Does what we dread never happen? The sea is indeed vast, and our boat exceedingly small. And I guess that's where faith becomes more than, not less than, certainty.

Trust grows out of, and into, our relationship with God, forming bonds of love, trust, hopefulness and purpose. God's mercy is not a guarantee against storms at sea, but of God's presence in the boat. 

"Lord, have mercy. The sea is so vast, and my boat is so small." Whatever we face each day, "the Love that moves the sun and other stars" is on our side.

"Here is love, vast as the ocean, loving-kindness as a flood..." The instincts of the translator are precise; mercy and loving-kindness are English translations of the Hebrew word for mercy, Hesed.

"Lord have mercy..." 

"The Plunge of Lead into Fathomless Depths."

Now and again a moment and a place coincide. A photograph is a way of capturing the intersection of what we are thinking, and what we are seeing. 

Walking through campus on my way to a public lecture, I was still thinking of what I'd spent the last hour reading. Slow reading. The kind of reading that is a conversation with occasional interruptions, and the occasional significant silence.

I was reading an essay by my friend, and Doktorvater, Professor David Fergusson, "Kenosis and the Humility of God." Reading theology has become both lifelong discipline, and a way of loving the God of whom we think, to whom we pray, and whom we seek to serve. So reading theology is a form of prayer, the mind kneeling, the heart attuned to hear what James Denney called "the plunge of lead into fathomless depths."

Here's the two or three sentences I was mulling over as I walked:

"Can divine love be stripped of divine power without weakening its capacity? Paul's insight is that divine power is manifested in the foolishness of the cross, not that it is abandoned or lost in this event. If the fullness of God is here to be revealed, then kenosis, whatever else it is, cannot be construed as a divestment of divine identity in the incarnation. If Christ reigns from the tree, then he reigns." (Kenosis. The Self-Emptying of Christ in Scripture & Theology, eds. Paul T Nimmo, Keith L Johnson, Eerdmans, 2022, page 195)

"If Christ reigns from the tree, then he reigns." That was my thought as I walked down the brae and looked at the King's College Crown and Cross through the trees. Thinking and seeing coincided in a moment, not so much of intellectual clarity, as of spiritual acknowledgement.

Oh the thinking must go on, as must the praying. And the reminders, first, that worship is expressed in the form and content of our thought, and second, our best thinking is done on our knees if not always physically, then certainly intellectually. 

I've said it often now, my camera often becomes and enables reflection on the "sacrament of the present moment."

The Goal of Good Learning and the Joy of Stair climbing.

Once a week I go to my happy (learning) place. I mean this University library. People who know me are aware I have admiration, affection and a long-standing regular attendance at this particular library. This edifice to education polarises opinion - love it or hate it, not many are neutral. 

Here's why I like it. Think of architecture as a power statement. Then think of the large and tall glass temples built in the City of London, and other cities. Most often they are owned or leased by huge finance or corporate companies. They are about wealth and wealth creation, they are statements of power, using the constructive rhetoric of architecture. This University library would not look out of place in such company. Except.

Except that this building is about education and learning, the creation of knowledge, encouraging understanding and facilitating discovery. The end product is not finance but intellectual capital, social capital and the transformation of minds, and hopes, and possibilities. I love the statement that this building makes - a place of learning is a place of power, possibility and riches that can last a lifetime.

When I come here I head for Level 2,4 and 7 - Humanities Journals, English Literature and Art History, and Theology and Philosophy, respectively. I recently borrowed 4 books that would have cost me about £150 to buy.

Most times I avoid the lifts and take the stairs - just under 200 to the top floor - there are 9 floors and I've never really understood why the first two are un-numbered and the top floor is numbered 7. In any case it is often my scala sancta, the long climb towards theological illumination!

Yesterday I chose to take the lift, and discovered why I don't. On the way up, crowded. It stops at Level 1 and two get out; stops again at level 2 and 1 gets out, and 1 gets in, only to get out again at 3. Every floor it stopped. By the time I got to Level 7 the time it took, I could have climbed the stairs and been the fitter for it!

But. I then had just over an hour of reading, browsing and came away with a half page of notes. Was it worth it? Depends what dividends you think you get from the investment of thought. Yes, actually, it was worth it.  

Why? Look at the two photos. The second one shows the football goals in the foreground. Life has many goals, most of them worthwhile. The goal of good learning is amongst the best goals we ever score. 

 

 

Or So It Seems To Me.

Walking in familiar woods. A broken chestnut tree, and a deer at a distance.

 

 

One of the three main branches of this old chestnut tree was torn off by storm Arwen, ruining the symmetry.

 

The autumn colours seem to me to be a defiant "I'm still here!"

 

 

The deer senses the presence of another, and I wonder if these animals ever eat without the alert readiness of the elite sprinter.

 

The open field is safe from ambush, and the security of trees and cover well within range. and so relative safety.

 

 

 

Interesting phrase that, relative safety. Life has no guarantees. But it does have beauty, and goodness, and the chance to grow, and to care for others.

 

Worth remembering that each person's relative safety will be enhanced in proportion to the kindness, respect, compassion and generosity of others.

 

And to someone else, we can be that "Other."

 

Or so it seems to me.

 

 

Thought for the Day, Tuesday October 11, 2022

 

2 Peter 1.3 “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.”

Godliness isn’t a cosy, spiritual feeling. It means respect for God’s will and obedience as a way of loving God.

Godliness is about how we behave, think and relate to other people.

Everything we need to obey God’s will is already ours by divine power – the Holy Spirit in our hearts and the risen Jesus at our side, and God’s glory and goodness underwriting his call on our lives.

Semantics and Spirituality: Diving Deep into the Vocabulary of Our Faith

“The Gospel is greater than the words that describe it…” Nijay Gupta is a creative and productive scholar who moves with ease between academic scholarship, and the kind of teaching and wisdom that nourishes Christian community. For him the New Testament is “thought provoking, captivating and worldview shaping.” His aim in this book is to help his readers experience the same transformative encounter with Scripture.

Gupta chooses fifteen key words, explains their use and meaning in the New Testament, and explores the ways each word encapsulates Christian faith in experience and practice. The words are chosen carefully, though none of them are a surprise: righteousness, gospel, life, forgiveness, cross, grace, faith, fellowship, hope, salvation, peace, religion, holiness, love and witness.

Fifteen word studies, but much more than that. Each word is attached to a New Testament Gospel or Letter, which is then used to explain and illustrate not only the meaning of the word, but the spiritual experiences and practical impact of such powerful theological words.

The result is a very different kind of New Testament Theology. The word list touches on almost all of the New Testament books. But Gupta isn’t trying to cover everything. The social and historical context, then the theological content of each word, is skilfully and persuasively presented. In the process the implications for Christian living are spelled out for obedient and faithful Christian existence. The lexical, grammatical, exegetical and theological work is all done, but the end result is a series of practical essays on the “load bearing concepts” that cumulatively spell out the Good News of Jesus Christ. There is much pastoral wisdom and spiritual insight woven throughout this volume

So, a book on New Testament Theology that both draws unifying threads, and yet affirms the diversity of New Testament voices. Gupta demonstrates the practical shaping impact of each of these words on the spiritual experiences that shape Christian existence in community and its witness to the world. Theology and praxis, semantics and spirituality, grammar and grace; Gupta achieves a creative balance of careful scholarship and practical coaching, supporting the reader towards a more confident and trustful improvisation of what it means for us to live into the Christian story.

I warmly recommend this book to those needing more than how to spiritual advice and wanting a deeper understanding of the dynamic core of New Testament faith. It will also serve very well for those seeking a tour of New Testament theology with a well informed and good natured guide. And preachers? They could profitably take and use the fruits of the learning on display in all or some of these exegetical essays. I could see much value in an occasional series applying what is learned here to their hearers, opening up the riches of God’s grace, the joy of witness and worship, and the theological potency embedded in the “load bearing” vocabulary of our faith.

Nijay Gupta is Professor of New Testament at Northern Seminary, Illinois, and author of several New Testament monographs and Commentaries.