Tuesday, 24 December 2013
Review of the Bethlehem Papers
Well, its been a busy day and there seems to be a lot going on, all fairly confusing. Reports are coming in thick and fast of odd things happening. Lets take a look at the first editions of the morning papers.
The Israel Independent leads with
Census Chaos
Hundreds have been stranded without a bed for the night as the Roman census has caused traffic chaos on all the major roads in Judah. We've even heard of a baby that had to be born in a stable. Inside we ask: is our transport and hotel infrastructure fit for purpose?
The Roman Times reports:
Further chaos was caused by the unexpected arrival of a major foreign delegation at the royal palace of King Herod last night. Wild Rumours have been spreading that they came seeking for a new king who will replace Herod, but the palace have denied that there is any truth in these rumours. I repeat, no truth at all.
This years 'I'm a tyrant get me out of here' champion, King Herod himself, wasn't available for comment, but a palace spokesman said 'We're monitoring the situation closely, and can assure you that all appropriate steps will be taken.' Pressed on what exactly this might mean, he said 'nothing has been ruled out at this stage of the investigation.'
A spokesman for the Roman Governor, Quirinius, said 'nothing will be allowed to disturb the Pax Romana. We will work closely with the Palace authorities to ensure a silent night.'
The Financial Pages note that the disruption caused by the census has made this a bad week for business.
However, the Hospitality industry have been the winners here, reporting 500% increases or more on usual levels of business. One innkeeper in the usually sleepy little town of Bethlehem told us 'We were turning people away from 11 o'clock in the morning. I even had to let one young couple sleep in my stable, where the young woman gave birth, because there wasn't a bed to be had for miles around.'
And in the Daily Star, for the first time ever, its the horoscopes that are front page news. In an amazing coincidence this week, whatever your star sign, the message is the same:
'expect some good news this week! But be prepared, life may never be the same again.' We asked a professor of astronomy what this could mean, and he told us that such a combination of planets and comets as we've seen in recent months has never been seen before, and could mean big news for Israel, and even for the whole world.
And its not just the headlines making the news today. Inside, the papers are full of comment on the strange goings on.
In showbiz news, the Countryfile 'sheep and shepherd special' was dramatically interrupted last night when the shepherds all deserted their flocks by night and flocked to a nearby village. Asked to explain themselves, a spokesman said 'it was amazing: the sky seemed to be full of angels, singing gloriously and telling us to go quickly to Bethlehem, to be the first to see the promised Messiah.'
It is thought this may have been a publicity stunt for the final of Joseph Malone's smash hit reality show, Sing While You Slave.
And we can leave it to the Judah Guardian to analyse why all this might be happening.
The leader article suggests, rather solemnly, that this might all herald the coming Messiah: the one the Prophets foretold. And if that's the case, it adds, we might all want to take a look at how the Prophets suggest we should be living our lives.
And in a big centre pages splash, They sent a reporter out into the streets last night (earlier this evening) to make a note of what people were singing, and then asked various experts to comment on the popular voice.
One song the rabble were allegedly singing in the hostelries claimed 'goodwill henceforth from heaven to earth begin and never cease'. Asked to comment on this, a priest high up in the Temple dismissed the idea, saying 'This is a very dangerous rumour to put about. If People start thinking God loves them on his own initiative, and without ceasing, who knows what could happen? Everyone knows the supreme importance of keeping ourselves righteous, and keeping the Temple sacrifices going, if we are to be sure of God's favour.'
Another song reportedly included the words 'god of God, light of light, Lo, he abhors not the Virgin's womb.' A leading Pharisee commented 'this appalling lyric seems to suggest that Jehovah himself, the God who created heaven and earth and all that is in them, would deign to be born from a woman. Leaving aside the ridiculous idea of God being able to fit himself into something as small and stupid as a human baby, the idea that he would dirty himself by going anywhere near a woman in childbirth would be laughable if it wasn't so blasphemous. Just think: if you took that idea to its logical conclusion, you'd be saying that women and children, and I suppose the ill and maimed as well, are as precious to God as righteous healthy adult men, which is clearly ridiculous.'
And a leading scribe, asked to comment on the rousing chorus 'born that we no more may die; born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth', was similarly dismissive. 'Everyone apart from the misguided Pharisees knows that when you die, you die,' he said. 'And who on earth wants to be born a second time, even if it were possible? No, this sort of fantasy, really isn't helpful. Its just a distraction from the requirement to get everything right and make sure that you never set a foot wrong in this life.'
And finally, in other news: we're down to the final three in the smash hit of the season, Strictly Come Magi. Lucky finalist Melchior said 'We've all been an amazing journey.' What does he have in store for us for that final in 12 days time? Melchior wasn't telling, but he did suggest that all three finalists might have some very special surprises up their sleeves.
Thursday, 5 December 2013
Isaiah 11:1-10 A Visual Advent Meditation
I have not yet written my sermon for Sunday, but studying the Isaiah reading in preparation I have come up with this visual meditation on the passage.
Saturday, 30 November 2013
3 Things NaNoWriMo has taught me...
...About myself, about writing, and maybe even about being a vicar
1. Accountability and score-keeping work, even when they are explicitly notional. By the end of Day 2, I was hooked on the little graph that the NaNoWriMo website produces for you, showing your daily and cumulative word count alongside the target line of 1667 daily words. I know my children will behave better (sometimes) to get a star on a star chart, and I have discovered over the years that giving a reward - sweets, or a film - for winning so many stars adds nothing to its effectiveness. The stars are their own reward. This November, I discovered the power of that for myself. I felt I owed it to that graph to keep it going up (and I felt it looking at me reproachfully when I got off track one day!).
2. I am even more competitive and driven than I had realised, but only against myself. I love to win, but I was to discover this November that this drive is nothing at all to do with beating others. One of the lovely things about NaNoWriMo is that you are never competing against the other participants, you are competing with them. We all cheer each other on, meet up to write together, and it is perfectly possible for all to be winners. You don't win by beating others, you win by beating your own sloth, fear and despondence to produce 50,000 words. It's not 'all shall have prizes' - you only win by writing those words - but there is no reason why everyone couldn't be a winner. I like that.
3. Perfectionism is the enemy of achievement. When I stopped worrying about whether the words I was writing were any good, I found it much easier to get my daily word count written. My mantra for November was 'you're not writing a novel, you are just writing a first draft'. Much easier, much more achievable, and much less rabbit-in-headlights. I actually planned this novel in outline back in the first half of the year. But when I had finished planning, and the time came to write, I froze. Having an achievable and not quality-driven goal defrosted me.
...so then, because I'm an endlessly reflective practitioner (read, hopelessly over-analytical!) I started wondering if any of these lessons could be applied to my 'day job' of being a vicar.
Given the inescapability of the current Church Growth agenda - which I generally think of as a good thing - star charts and graphs seem immediately applicable. A new convert? have a gold star! Keep that Usual Sunday Attendance graph going steadily up!
However. When I think back over my experience in my first year in my current post, and compare it with my NaNoWriMo experience, the 'rabbit in headlights' panic is what resonates most strongly.
I must get church growth! And just numbers aren't enough, it has to be good quality too! They have to be real converts, not transfer growth! And they have to be properly discipled! And start giving sacrificially as soon as possible so the diocese doesn't go bankrupt!
Panic. Freeze.
What might defrost this panic? Could something, like NaNoWriMo did for my embryonic novel, stop us staring into the headlights in terror and get us moving, slowly and steadily, in the right direction?
If the 3 things I learned about writing a novel are more generally applicable, then things I am wondering about are:
1. What about a star chart or graph? We collect attendance figures each week: I would be fascinated to find out what it would do to people's behaviour if that was graphed publicly, at the back of church. Would people feel more accountable to coming more regularly, to keep the graph looking happy? Or what about the PCC? We look at the state of our bank balance each month, but only rarely at our attendance figures. Maybe we should have the graph as a standing item on the agenda?
Or maybe this is more personal? I remember as a child getting a sticker each week in Sunday School, to go in my personal book: and now I have loyalty cards for Waterstones, Costa etc in my wallet, that get stamped each time I go...I would be wary of creating a consumer attitude to churchgoing, but I wonder if there is any way this sort of thing could be used to assist in habit-forming?
2. Church and diocesan culture can make the difference between whether church growth is seen as a game of winners and losers, or a shared endeavour. It is well known that the church has a very flat structure, with very few 'senior' positions with which to reward success, though, and this can encourage a sense of jockeying for position. Big churches throwing their weight around and threatening to take their people and money elsewhere doesn't help. How could a diocese, or the church centrally, use something like the NaNoWriMo structure to reward everyone's successes? Another thought experiment: what if the CofE website, when we enter our church statistics, sent everyone a certificate congratulating them?
3. Perfectionism. Hmm. This is a biggie. In all the Church Growth conferences I've been to and books I've read, people are always at pains to point out that quality is as important as quantity. Sometimes, this is an excuse not to bother with numbers: more often it is due to a genuine desire to make disciples, and a genuine concern to deepen the faith of those already in church. However. I wonder if this 'of course, quality matters just as much or more' rhetoric in fact stifles conscious efforts to grow the church by inadvertently causing a 'rabbit in the headlights' reaction? Maybe if we just concentrated on the numbers for a bit, without worrying about quality initially, we'd actually get some material to work on? Just a thought...
(Post edited slightly, 3.12.13)
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Church Growth in Medieval Christendom
I have recently submitted a chapter for a forthcoming book, 'Towards a Theology of Church Growth', edited by David Goodhew, to be published by Ashgate in 2014. It developed out of a conference of the same title held at St.John's College Durham, under the auspices of the Centre for Church Growth Research, in September 2013.
Post updated 25.11.13; the full text of this article is no longer available here - you'll have to wait for the book! But here is the intro and conclusion:
Post updated 25.11.13; the full text of this article is no longer available here - you'll have to wait for the book! But here is the intro and conclusion:
Growing the Medieval Church:
Church Growth in Theory and
Practice in Christendom
c.1000 - c.1500
Revd. Dr. Miranda
Threlfall-Holmes
This chapter discusses three key questions concerning church growth theory, and the reality of church growth, in medieval European Christendom. First, was church growth needed in medieval Europe? By the year 1000, all of mainland Europe was at least nominally Christian1. Paganism had been wiped out, and it would have been hard indeed to find anyone who had not been baptised as an infant. Rulers were Christians, and increasingly law and society were organised on Christian principles. Christianity was officially the compulsory religion of each emerging nation state. In this context, was the concept of church growth meaningless?
Secondly, this chapter will then
consider the medieval sources that explicitly discuss church growth.
Through the words of those who were writing about this subject in the
medieval past, we shall look at how church growth was conceptualised
in a society where most were assumed to be at least nominally
Christian. In particular, we will look in more detail at the ways in
which the metaphor of 'growth' was used in medieval theology, as
there are some very interesting differences here with our modern use
of the concept. What did a medieval theology of church growth look
like? And finally, this chapter will turn to the simple question: did
it work? Was there church growth in medieval Europe?
Conclusion
So what can we, as budding theologians of church growth today, usefully learn from the medieval worldview? In most of our theology, the arguments and concepts that were formed in the medieval period remain foundational, and it does not seem unreasonable, therefore, for us to look here for help in formulating a contemporary theology of church growth too. In doing so, there are four points that I would like to draw out.
First, an historically accurate assessment of medieval levels of church going is a helpful corrective to the mythology of a golden age in which 'everyone went to church'. Contemporary discussions of the difficulties of evangelism often focus on the uniquely problematic nature of our post-modern context, in a way which can gloss over the reality of the situations faced by our colleagues in previous eras. It does seem to have been the case that clergy in every generation have worried about how they could increase the level of church attendance and affective Christianity amongst their flock. An awareness of this may help to prevent counsels of despair, and prompt a new realism about the task that confronts, and always has confronted, the church.
Secondly, the fully fleshed out way in which medieval theologians understood the metaphor of 'growth' is an important resource as we seek to discern a theology of church growth. Understanding the primary task as keeping down the weeds, which are constantly threatening to overwhelm the garden, resonates very accurately with the lived experience of clergy and others involved in trying to grow the church in practice. It is very easy to feel discouraged by these dynamics. A great deal of hard work is expended, yet the result is not often a great expansion of the vineyard, but simply (at best) the only-to-be-expected harvest of the vines that have been tended. In our modern understanding of work, we expect to see a product, the fruits of our labours. Emma Percy draws theological attention to the philosopher Hannah Arendt, who distinguished between three different realms of human activity: labour, the domestic tasks needed for everyday life; work or fabrication, where the end is a tangible product, and action, the work that builds up human communities.56 We tend to conceptualise working harder as producing more. Yet the wisdom of the medieval theologians of church growth would suggest that the work of ministry might be more helpfully seen as parallel to domestic work – washing, ironing, cooking a meal and washing up – which needs to be done, but then needs to be done again, than to artisan or factory work, which produce a measurable product. This does not mean that growth does not take place, but it is more analagous to natural, organic growth – the growth of a garden, or a child – rather than capitalist expansion and productivity.
Thirdly, and more positively, this survey of medieval church growth would suggest very strongly that intentionality is key. Throughout the history of the church, it has grown – numerically and in spiritual depth – when people have chosen to focus on that task.
Finally, there is a further historical question which arises from this evidence for medieval church growth. To what extent did this growth in lay involvement, in the depth and vibrancy of medieval Catholic religious practice over this period, inadvertantly give birth to the Reformation? To extend the metaphor of growth: even if we assiduously keep the weeds under control, we can't control the shape of the growth that God gives, or whether its fruit will be to our taste.
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Saturday, 26 October 2013
Women Bishops: Take Two...
Proposals for new legislation to enable women to be bishops, have just been published. They can be found here, on the Church of England website.
Overall reaction
Overall, I welcome this report and would support this legislation. It seems to me to provide a wise balance of simple legislation and guiding principles, giving effect to the wishes of General Synod as expressed in July.
There are points on which I have some serious reservations, but I can of course see that the same could be said by everybody in this process, and that some mutual compromise is necessary. For me personally, the biggest concession demanded by this legislation is the continued ordination of candidates who are against the ordination of women.
I welcome, however, the structure of the new proposals, with their four inter-dependent elements which need to be read as a whole.
Guide to the new proposals
The new package is designed to be seen and understood as a whole. Each element needs to be read and interpreted in the light of each other element.
There are four parts to this new package:
1. The Measure.
This is the bit that will become law, and that will need to be passed by Parliament as well as by General Synod. It is much simpler than before, as requested by General Synod in July. It basically says men and women can both be bishops, end of. The only other substantial provision is a single amendment to the Equality Act, designed to prevent legal challenges to this package.
2. The Amending Canon.
This changes the internal rules of the Church of England. The main point here is that both for priests and bishops, the rules will simply say men and women can be ordained and consecrated, without having separate provision for the ordination of women . A new Canon will also mandate the grievance procedure (see 4 in this list).
3. The House of Bishops' Declaration.
This is the heart of the package for those who disagree with the ordination of women. All arrangements for dealing with the variety of opinion that exists are in this Declaration, which would have similar force to the current Act of Synod. It includes the provision that, once the Bishops have agreed this text, it can only be changed by a 2/3 majority of each House of General Synod.
4. The Grievance Procedure.
The newest element of the proposals, this will be an ombudsman-style process, and it will be made compulsory by being included in Canon Law. This means all clergy, including bishops, will have to comply with it. It exists primarily to provide a way for PCCs who don't think their theological convictions have been handled adequately to complain, but the stated aim is not so much to deal with such complaints, but to prevent them arising in the first place by providing an independent and national level of scrutiny over how (for example) bishops go about providing male bishops for petitioning parishes. It doesn't include penalties, but it seems likely that failure to comply with its recommendations would be grounds for a complaint under the Clergy Discipline Measure.
What now?
So, this November, Synod will be voting on whether
1) to give First Approval to the Measure and Canon and
2) to ask the Bishops to agree texts for the Declaration and Grievance Procedure.
If all goes to plan, the February 2014 Synod will then hold the Revision Stage of the legislation (the Measure), and will have the full set of documents agreed.
At the end of the February Synod, they will vote on sending the whole package to the dioceses again. The dioceses will only be voting on the Measure, but will be able to see the whole package so they aren't 'signing a blank cheque'.
This Reference to the Dioceses stage is expected to be fast-tracked, and should be back with General Synod by July or November 2014.
In theory, then, Final Approval could be given in 2014, or in Feb 2015.
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Typical women: it just goes to show...
A twitter conversation yesterday started like this:
@SallyHitchiner: Antje Jackelen elected Sweden's first woman archbishop - Come on England: the Swedes are decades ahead again! http://t.co/cKj4GIhtGl
@PeterOuld: @SallyHitchiner Are you not slightly concerned she denies parts of the Creed? Is that OK because she's XX?
...... And a few tweets later:
@PeterOuld: @SallyHitchiner @MirandaTHolmes You're celebrating an XX archbish who won't affirm Creeds. This does CofE pro XX bish position no favours.
@PeterOuld: @SallyHitchiner @MirandaTHolmes It plays very nicely into the hands of those who think we are wrong for wanting women bishops.
Typical women, eh? When one of them says something we disagree with, it just goes to show that women shouldn't be allowed a platform or voice. See, we told you they couldn't be trusted with it. Leave this to the chaps, girls.
This is why gender is still an issue, even where it isn't meant to be an issue anymore. If a man screws up, he is an individual who is bad at his job. If a woman screws up, it seems to show that women shouldn't do that job.
Please note that I am not discussing the new Archbishop of Sweden elect's views here, or her suitability or otherwise for the post. I know nothing about her except what has been written in a couple of English language reports of her appointment, and I would not presume to criticise another church's choice of leader on such flimsy evidence.
My beef is more straightforward. Why on earth does the appointment of a female archbishop who has views which may be controversial, 'play very nicely into the hands of those who think we are wrong for wanting women bishops'? Does her gender determine her theology? Do all women think the same?
Lets take a male example for comparison. How about David Jenkins, a previous Bishop of Durham? He was notoriously controversial in his theological views. Partly this was because he was genuinely questioning and de-mythologising, partly because the complexity of his views were often misquoted and misunderstood. (The Resurrection, for example, he said was 'not just a conjuring trick with bones', but somehow the 'not' seemed to get lost along the way.) Many people said he shouldn't be a bishop, even suggested that God had struck York Minster with lightening in retaliation for his consecration there a few days earlier. But no one, as far as I am aware, suggested that it just went to show that men shouldn't be bishops.
Or how about Richard Holloway, a previous Bishop of Edinburgh? I heard him speak very movingly at the Hexham Book Festival last year, about his new book 'Leaving Alexandria'. In the questions afterwards, he thought aloud about resigning from his see, saying that he had done so because he came to think that those who said he shouldn't be a bishop due to his unorthodox views were probably right. But again, I have never heard anyone suggest that his radical take on Christianity casts doubt on men's suitability for the episcopate.
I am an academic by training, so in fairness, I shall acknowledge that there is some research to suggest that, on average and broadly speaking, female clergy tend to be more theologically liberal than male clergy. Personally, I think this is a good thing and am proud to be one of them!
But it is nonsensical to suggest that all women think the same, or that the fact that some of us are more liberal than the average clergyman means that women shouldn't be ordained, or become bishops. Even if you genuinely think that only conservative thinkers with no capacity or inclination to question the received wisdom should be ordained, to argue that since the average woman is more 'liberal' than the average man, no woman should be ordained would be specious nonsense.
We will know we have achieved genuine gender equality when a woman can mess up, or be controversial, or do something unpopular, and be criticised for her actions rather than as a representative of her sex.
@SallyHitchiner: Antje Jackelen elected Sweden's first woman archbishop - Come on England: the Swedes are decades ahead again! http://t.co/cKj4GIhtGl
@PeterOuld: @SallyHitchiner Are you not slightly concerned she denies parts of the Creed? Is that OK because she's XX?
...... And a few tweets later:
@PeterOuld: @SallyHitchiner @MirandaTHolmes You're celebrating an XX archbish who won't affirm Creeds. This does CofE pro XX bish position no favours.
@PeterOuld: @SallyHitchiner @MirandaTHolmes It plays very nicely into the hands of those who think we are wrong for wanting women bishops.
Typical women, eh? When one of them says something we disagree with, it just goes to show that women shouldn't be allowed a platform or voice. See, we told you they couldn't be trusted with it. Leave this to the chaps, girls.
This is why gender is still an issue, even where it isn't meant to be an issue anymore. If a man screws up, he is an individual who is bad at his job. If a woman screws up, it seems to show that women shouldn't do that job.
Please note that I am not discussing the new Archbishop of Sweden elect's views here, or her suitability or otherwise for the post. I know nothing about her except what has been written in a couple of English language reports of her appointment, and I would not presume to criticise another church's choice of leader on such flimsy evidence.
My beef is more straightforward. Why on earth does the appointment of a female archbishop who has views which may be controversial, 'play very nicely into the hands of those who think we are wrong for wanting women bishops'? Does her gender determine her theology? Do all women think the same?
Lets take a male example for comparison. How about David Jenkins, a previous Bishop of Durham? He was notoriously controversial in his theological views. Partly this was because he was genuinely questioning and de-mythologising, partly because the complexity of his views were often misquoted and misunderstood. (The Resurrection, for example, he said was 'not just a conjuring trick with bones', but somehow the 'not' seemed to get lost along the way.) Many people said he shouldn't be a bishop, even suggested that God had struck York Minster with lightening in retaliation for his consecration there a few days earlier. But no one, as far as I am aware, suggested that it just went to show that men shouldn't be bishops.
Or how about Richard Holloway, a previous Bishop of Edinburgh? I heard him speak very movingly at the Hexham Book Festival last year, about his new book 'Leaving Alexandria'. In the questions afterwards, he thought aloud about resigning from his see, saying that he had done so because he came to think that those who said he shouldn't be a bishop due to his unorthodox views were probably right. But again, I have never heard anyone suggest that his radical take on Christianity casts doubt on men's suitability for the episcopate.
I am an academic by training, so in fairness, I shall acknowledge that there is some research to suggest that, on average and broadly speaking, female clergy tend to be more theologically liberal than male clergy. Personally, I think this is a good thing and am proud to be one of them!
But it is nonsensical to suggest that all women think the same, or that the fact that some of us are more liberal than the average clergyman means that women shouldn't be ordained, or become bishops. Even if you genuinely think that only conservative thinkers with no capacity or inclination to question the received wisdom should be ordained, to argue that since the average woman is more 'liberal' than the average man, no woman should be ordained would be specious nonsense.
We will know we have achieved genuine gender equality when a woman can mess up, or be controversial, or do something unpopular, and be criticised for her actions rather than as a representative of her sex.
Friday, 27 September 2013
Women Bishops: Crest of a Wave
I should be in a really good mood. What a fantastic month it has been for those of us who have been immersed in advocacy for women's equality in the Church!
First, we heard that Helen-Ann Hartley has been elected as the next bishop in New Zealand. She will be the first woman ordained in the Church of England to become a bishop, even if it is still only possible the other side of the world.
Then, the Church in Wales - much nearer home - voted to open the episcopate to women. Even better, they voted to remove any statutory discrimination from the draft legislation.
Thirdly, the Church of Ireland announced that the first woman had been elected to be a bishop there.
And finally, for now at least, we have heard that the Church of South India has elected their first woman as a bishop, too.
Yet despite all this good news, I have been feeling strangely down this week. And I think they are connected.
All these announcements are bitter-sweet for us here in England, aren't they? Even if you don't think women should become bishops, I'm sure you can empathise with the mixed feelings such announcements have brought with them.
First, they bring back all the pain of last November's 'No'. Rather like remembering a bereavement all over again when you hear of another death, seeing all these wonderful announcements means we can't continue to compartmentalise that hurt and sense of rejection. I read my blog post from November again today, and yes - those feelings are still raw, just below the surface. We have of course been ignoring them, suppressing them, just getting on with the day to day work of being a priest or a laywoman in Christ's church. But they are still there, only lightly scabbed over, and this month they have been itching.
Secondly, I am mourning what might have been. If the vote had gone the other way, we would be close to hearing our own announcements now. The new bishop of Durham could have been a woman. The back log of bishop appointments could have become a wave of brilliant women whose gifts could have flooded in to the House of Bishops. Instead, we are gathering up the crumbs under the rich man's table: a few women are to be permitted to attend the House of Bishop's meetings. Tweets pour scorn on those doing so as 'silly women' accepting posts as 'pseudo bishops'. Though a more accurate reading of the situation might be that the bishops are begging them to attend, to make them look better and to make their meeting dynamics work better, and the women concerned are graciously accepting the invitation, choosing with great dignity and calm not to be insulted. Hats off to them.
Thirdly, all these appointments remind us again and again that nowhere else in the Anglican Communion has the admission of women to the episcopate been hedged about by conditions, restrictions, provisions for opponents or discriminatory regulations. Every other province that currently allows women to be bishops - whether or not they actually have any yet- has simple legislation. Yet the Church of England is still agonising over how and whether this can be done, and what complicated arrangements might be suitable for those who wish to reject women's ministry. We appear unable to simply follow the lead of our brothers and sisters around the world, in a huge variety of contexts - from Canada to the Sudan.
And of course, all these appointments have provoked once again the usual statements of disapproval from the usual suspects, forcing us to hear once again that women are unequal, women should be subordinate, women can't be what many of us are - priests, deacons, bishops, co-workers with God on equal terms with our male colleagues. The arguments are the same, the rhetoric is tired, and our wince is a familiar one.
So I just feel tired, and a bit down. I wish I could rejoice, but at least I've worked out why I'm not feeling as great as I thought I would be.
There is a wave cresting, but it seems to be taking an awfully long time to break on this shore.
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
Luke 16:1-13 The Parable of the Dishonest Steward
My sermon notes for St.Laurence Pittington this coming Sunday:
This parable has
always fascinated me. It is very hard to understand – is Jesus
commending dishonesty? Is he recommending that we be as cunning in
our faith as crooked buisnessmen? Hundreds of different
interpretations over the centuries have sought to get Jesus off the
hook of praising sin, and yet we’re left rather confused. All sorts
of questions fly out at us. Who is doing the praising? Jesus or the
rich man? If it is Jesus, what it is he approves of here? Deceit?
Surely not. The sacked manager’s cleverness or determination?
Partly, it would seem. The self interest? That appears to be in his
mind too. And then on the other hand, if the boss is the one doing
the praising, why would he praise a steward who was being sacked for
bad management in the first place, when he is now standing to lose
money? Was it honour among thieves? Or, again, is it the cleverness,
the shrewdness that is being praised?
Partly it depends on
how we understand the story in the first place. Some people think
that the sacked man was overcharging and so, when he knew he was to
be dismissed, he was forgoing his cut to gain acceptance among his
former clients. Or its been suggested that he setting up a situation
which would enhance his master’s reputation as well as his own –
hoping to make his master look generous and so by a public relations
coup hoping to regain his job? Or maybe the amount he reduced each
bill by was the disguised interest his master was charging on his
debts, so he gains the moral high ground and the master can do
nothing about it because charging usury was illegal in the first
place.
Perhaps that is all
there is to it: a rather confusing little story that simply means, be
clever. But its also been suggested that this may been a story that
was circulating at the time, which Jesus then picked and used for his
own ends.
I think the key to
understanding this parable as more than simple advice is to turn the
focus from us – who are we in this story? To Jesus – where is
Jesus in this story?
Debt was used more
than once by Jesus as a metaphor for sins and forgiving debts, for
forgiving sins. Jesus uses the imagery in the Lord’s Prayer, and in
other parables. For example, earlier in Luke’s gospel we are told
the story of a woman pouring perfume on Jesus’s feet, and wiping
them with her hair. Jesus’s host, a pharisee, was horrified and
thought to himself ‘if this man really was a prophet, surely he
would know what kind of a woman this is, that she is a sinner?’.
Jesus knew what he was thinking, and told him a parable of two
debtors, one who owed five hundred denarii, the other fifty. Both
debts were written off by the creditor, and the one who owed more was
more grateful. Jesus then said to the woman, ‘your sins are
forgiven’ , to the consternation of the other guests at the feast.
Central to the
parable of the unjust steward is the fact that the rogue had no
authorisation to go around cancelling or cutting people’s debts. It
was outrageous behaviour. But Luke has just been telling us, for the
whole of the previous two chapters, that Jesus’ behaviour was
outrageous. His opponents were saying he had no right to go about
welcoming sinners and declaring God’s forgiveness to them. Jesus
was a rogue in the system. The scribes, and the pharisees, and other
religious authorities denied his authority to do what he did. They
criticised the company he hung out with, and they criticised his
failure to conform to the moral standards of the day. It was in
answer to these criticsms that Jesus told the previous parables, the
stories of the lost sheep and the lost coin that we heard last week,
and the story of the prodigal son that is between them and this story
in Luke. In all those stories, Jesus makes the point that God is more
concerned with finding the lost than simply keeping the righteous. He
told those stories specifically to defend himself against the
pharisees criticisms that he was spending time with those deemed to
be sinners and inappropriate company for a rabbi. In the context of
those stories, it seems likely that this parable too is telling us
something about God and his relationship with us, rather than simply
offering some rather odd advice.
It seems very likely
that Jesus has taken up a popular story about a rogue manager and
used it in self defence and to confront his opponents. He’s telling
this story against himself, and what a bold stroke! Suddenly the
whole difficult, complicated, immoral story untwists itself if , we
think of Jesus as likening himself to the unjust steward. Jesus is
the one whom his opponents were accusing of being a bad steward of
God’s holy things, and being unauthorised to forgive debts, but, he
asserts, he does so with God’s approval. As the master praised the
sacked manager, so, claims Jesus, God will approve his ministry and
his radical generosity. Jesus is the legitimate agent. And God is
that generous!
Jesus often used
stories from the commercial world, including those which likened God
or himself to rather shady characters – in other parables he used
the images of an unjust judge or a ruthless king, for example. And if
we think back to the parables of the previous chapter of Luke, such
as the lost sheep and the prodigal son, it is easy to see the
similarities. We are used to thinking of these stories as
illustrating God’s goodness, but in the context of the time they
were told, and especially in the context of the pharisees disapproval
of Jesus, they show God as good, yes, but to an almost irresponsible
degree. The parable of the lost sheep could be called the parable of
the irresponsible shepherd – what sort of shepherd abandons 99
sheep to bandits or wolves, to search for one lost one which might
already be dead? And the story of the prodigal son has the father
showing a reckless generosity, which enrages the older brother. In
all these parables, Jesus is asserting the outrageous, reckless,
irresponsible nature of God’s grace. The parable of the unjust
steward is defiant in the face of the criticism that Jesus is
subverting normal values. He insists that normal wordly standards
can’t be simply transposed onto God, and you can’t simply expect
God to behave as a human being might be expected to in a situation.
Time and again in the gospels, Jesus uses parables to hammer home the
message that God is not like a normal debtor, insisting that we pay
what we owe, he forgives us freely and much more than we deserve. And
the corollary of that is that we should do the same.
The world of debts
and debtors was not fantasy for Jesus’ first hearers. While
applying the imagery of debt to a broader theme, Jesus was also
indicating that he knew what was going on in his world. He knew how
oppressive systems worked themselves out in his Galilee to drive
people from their land into unemployment and poverty. While it is
naïve to read into Jesus’ teaching our perceptions of the
complexities of economic exploitation, nevertheless the proclamation
of the kingdom was meant to be good news for these poor and bring
them blessing. How can you assert these things as God’s priorities
and not address what is going on?
All through the
gospels, and especially in Luke’s gospel, money and wealth and
exploitation come up again and again. For the past couple of months,
Sunday after Sunday, we’ve heard about treasure on earth, treasure
in heaven, inviting the poor not just our friends or useful contacts
to our parties, how we use our money, and debt. Wealth and
exploitation are not simply one more moral issue which Christians
need to address, but something quite central to the gospel. No one is
to be written off, because what people have held against others has
been written off by the roguery, the outrageous behaviour, of divine
grace.
The mathematics that
God uses is not like our arithmetic. A very traditional view of how
gods judge humans after death, common to many religions and world
views across different times and cultures, is that we are weighed in
the scales. You may have seen ancient Egyptian paintings of the soul
being weighed – the idea being that the good and the bad we have
done are weighed against each other, and the gods see which is more
significant. Jesus’s economic parables turn that idea on its head.
God is more likely to throw the scales across the room, and come
dancing forward to embrace us. God’s grace is ridiculous, unfair,
profligate – that’s why the pharisees were so annoyed by Jesus.
It is lavished on us, regardless of whether we deserve it. But time
and again, in parable after parable – the lost sheep, the prodigal
son, the unjust steward – Jesus continues to insist that like it or
not, that is what God’s grace is like.
Saturday, 14 September 2013
Advent Hymn
Suggested tune: In Christ Alone (or other 8888 tune).
Update: Since blogging this, Chris Upton has composed a lovely new tune specifically for this hymn, Advent Hope, as he explains in the comments below. You can find it online here, at the CPDL free choral sheet music site.
This hymn is structured around the traditional candles of the Advent Wreath, and would work particularly well sung at the lighting of the candles. Either the verse for the week can be sung between the first and last verses, or the verses could be sung cumulatively through Advent. The hymn can also, of course, be sung as a whole, and this would be particularly appropriate on Advent Sunday, or at an Advent carol service.
First Verse:
In Advent hope, we watch for Christ,
Eagerly waiting for his birth.
Preparing hearts, our minds and lives,
Anticipating his return.
Watching for light, watching for love,
Watching for joy, watching for peace.
We'll see him soon, in life or death,
God with us then for evermore.
God with us then for evermore.
Advent 1:
In ages past the ancients told
Stories of what God promises:
From Noah's dove, to Sarah's laugh,
Wrestling with God or counting stars.
Stories of light, stories of love,
Stories of joy, stories of peace.
Through exiled years of slavery
Stories of hope and faithfulness.
Stories of hope and faithfulness.
Advent 2:
Your prophets held before our eyes
Visions of how the world could be
When righteousness is redefined:
Visions of grace and jubilee.
Visions of light, visions of love,
Visions of joy, visions of peace:
A coming king, who'll rule to serve,
Visions of justice all will see.
Visions of justice all will see.
Advent 3:
John warned your people to prepare
Baptising all who turned from sin,
From selfishness, unfairness, greed:
Guiding your people to your path.
The path of light, the path of love,
The path of joy, the path of peace.
Guiding us to eternal life,
Calling us all to fruitfulness.
Calling us all to fruitfulness.
Advent 4:
With Mary's yes, God came to grow,
Curled in the darkness of her womb.
And Mary sang, rejoicingly,
Telling of God's eternal plan.
Singing of light, singing of love,
Singing of joy, singing of peace.
Of how God loves the poor and low,
Turning the kingdom upside down.
Turning the kingdom upside down.
Final verse:
Inspired by them*, and trusting God,
We wait in darkness for the dawn.
In eager hope, expectantly,
Longing for Christ, the morning star.
Longing for light, longing for love,
Longing for joy, longing for peace.
Impatient for the coming day,
Longing to meet Christ face to face.
Longing to meet Christ face to face.
[*NB: if only the verse for Advent 3 or Advent 4 has been used on a particular occasion, change 'them' to 'him' or 'her']
You are welcome to use these words freely, with attribution (Creative Commons Licence Share-Alike Licence). I hope they are useful!
Thursday, 29 August 2013
To change the world
For the last few days I have been in Dublin at the Anglo Nordic Baltic Theological Conference, on Education, Ethos and Social Transformation. The following is a reflection following that conference.
'We teach to change the world'
We preach to change the world,
We pray to change the world.
We live, move, breath to change the world.
'Your kingdom come,
Your will be done':
Let the world be changed.
Let it be energised,
Transformed,
Aligned with your vision
Magnetised
By stroking against you
Lit up, salted, savoured, sweetened.
We pray to change the world.
We preach, I priest, to change the world.
And the world changed.
And then the Church cried out
In pain, in anger.
Decrying change,
Urging return:
Condemning as new and ungodly
The ways of the world
That we have shaped,
prayed in,
Fought for, struggled for,
shed and sweated blood for.
Your kingdom come
Only in polished mahogany
and jewelled crowns?
Your will be done
Only if it be the same
yesterday, today and forever?
We preach, teach, pray, priest
To change the world.
Let the world be changed.
(The title is a quotation from Stephen Brookfield's book 'Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher')
Tuesday, 6 August 2013
Inheritance and Greed: a sermon
These are my sermon notes from Sunday 4th August:
Luke 12.13-21
Todays readings are about inheritance and greed. It is interesting that the two are put together- puts issues of what we have and what we want very deliberately in a long term context.
And I know these are things that we are asking ourselves about. Just in the last year I have had several conversations with parishioners about inheritance. To take a few examples:
I have been approached by someone who doesnt come to church, but lives in the parish, asking if they could name me as their executor as they didnt trust their children to fulfill their wishes for their estate to go to charity, and didnt want to pay a solicitor (I said no, so dont all ask!).
I have had a heated debate with a friend in church about the rights and wrongs of inheritance tax, and whether as Christians we should prioritise the hopes and security of our children over all the other things we could do with our money.
And both PCCs have debated and adopted a legacies policy, addressing some of the common concerns people have over leaving a legacy to the church in their wills.
What questions nag away at you about inheritance?
Perhaps they are issues about what will happen with your money when you die. Will there be enough left to fulfill your childrens expectations or hopes? How much should you leave to charity, and how much to family? Will there be enough to pay for a funeral? What impact if any will inheritance tax have on the value of your estate? Who can you trust to be your executors? If you haven't thought about these things, please can I encourage you to do so: I see many families after a death, and uncertainty about 'what they would have wanted' is a big worry, as are arguments about inheritance especially when someone dies without leaving a will.
Or perhaps you have questions about what will happen to your money before you die: will the pension be enough to pay for nursing home care if you need it? Will you have to sell your house to pay for care? Can you trust those who you might give power of attorney to, not to rip you off if you aren't able to take care of your own affairs any more? Will your family argue about your money?
Or perhaps your questions about inheritance refer to your own potential expectations. Who benefits from the wills of your parents, grandparents, siblings? How much might they leave you? Will it all go on nursing home fees or can you expect a nice lump sum to pay off the mortgage or help your children buy their first home at some point? What if they change their minds and leave it all to the cats home instead?
These might not seem like particularly religious questions, but interestingly Jesus in the gospels talks more about money than any other subject. Todays gospel reading is very firmly focused on worries and family conflicts about inheritance.
And of course in the last week or so the papers have been full of Archbishop Justin talking about credit unions and how best as a church we can help those both in our churches and our wider community who are struggling with issues of debt and credit.
I don't know very much about credit unions, but I have discovered that there is a local one based in Gilesgate and I have made contact with the co-ordinator and will be meeting with her in September. But I gather that one of the main things we can do that would help would be to invest some of any savings we may have with them, as they only work if there are enough investors to balance the would-be creditors.
What Jesus makes very clear in this story and others, is that what we do with our money is a religious issue. Justin, when he was Bishop of Durham, called it Theology in Numbers. What we do with our money reveals what we really believe, what our values really are. What we do with our money can change the world and our communities for the better, working with God to build his Kingdom here on earth: or not. And if not, it may well be actively involved in doing evil rather than simply not doing good. It may be funding unethical companies- arms manufacturers, pornography dealers - if we simply leave it in the bank. Remember that factory collapse in Bangladesh earlier this year? The clothes we choose to buy, if we don't think about what we are buying, are probably being made in unsafe conditions and effectively upholding modern day slavery. What we do with our money, now and after our deaths, is a gospel issue. You could even say, given how much Jesus spoke about money compared to other things, that it is the gospel issue.
But look at how today's gospel starts. Someone asks Jesus a question- 'tell my brother what to do!' And Jesus' reply is startling: 'Friend, who set me up to be judge over you?'. Now I don't know about you, but this isn't what I'd expect Jesus to say here. I rather tend to think of him as being set up as a judge over me. But he refuses that position.
And then what does he say? I first read this passage as 'don't be greedy', but that's not quite what he says. 'take care', he says. 'Be on your guard against all kinds of greed'. We know we are not meant to be greedy: Jesus tells us to be careful, to examine our motivations.
Jesus doesn't tell us what to do. He doesn't give us rules to follow about what we do with our money. How much easier it would be if he did, however challenging they might be! You can see the attraction of churches saying that everyone should give 10% of any earnings to God, for example: we might resent it as a rule, but at least we would know where we stand. And we could feel smug if we were doing it. But thats the great danger of rules and regulations: they encourage righteousness, smugness, guilt and hypocrisy, rather than encouraging responsibility, thoughtfulness, love and honesty.
'Jesus, tell us what we should do with our money' might be our prayer. But all too often I fear that we are even more like the man at the beginning of todays story, and what we are actually asking is 'Jesus, tell other people what they should do with their money'! Tell them to give us more of it. Tell them to spend it on things we approve of. Tell them to be more responsible so the welfare bill is lower and our taxes less taxing, or tell the government to spend more or less on the things we want more or less of.
But Jesus' reply remains, 'Friend, who set me up to be judge over you?' Instead of giving us simple rules to apply, he tells us to take care, be on your guard against greed. To examine our motivations, take responsibility for our own financial decisions. And in doing so, hear and reflect on the stories Jesus tells us about money: about life, and death, and jealousy, and excess, and greed, and investment and profit and eternity. To be aware of a bigger picture than our own comfort, our own families, our own church, our own lifetimes. To try to make our judgements in the light of something like a Gods eye view of the world, with a sense of Gods perspective of time and fairness and generosity.
Amen.
Luke 12.13-21
Todays readings are about inheritance and greed. It is interesting that the two are put together- puts issues of what we have and what we want very deliberately in a long term context.
And I know these are things that we are asking ourselves about. Just in the last year I have had several conversations with parishioners about inheritance. To take a few examples:
I have been approached by someone who doesnt come to church, but lives in the parish, asking if they could name me as their executor as they didnt trust their children to fulfill their wishes for their estate to go to charity, and didnt want to pay a solicitor (I said no, so dont all ask!).
I have had a heated debate with a friend in church about the rights and wrongs of inheritance tax, and whether as Christians we should prioritise the hopes and security of our children over all the other things we could do with our money.
And both PCCs have debated and adopted a legacies policy, addressing some of the common concerns people have over leaving a legacy to the church in their wills.
What questions nag away at you about inheritance?
Perhaps they are issues about what will happen with your money when you die. Will there be enough left to fulfill your childrens expectations or hopes? How much should you leave to charity, and how much to family? Will there be enough to pay for a funeral? What impact if any will inheritance tax have on the value of your estate? Who can you trust to be your executors? If you haven't thought about these things, please can I encourage you to do so: I see many families after a death, and uncertainty about 'what they would have wanted' is a big worry, as are arguments about inheritance especially when someone dies without leaving a will.
Or perhaps you have questions about what will happen to your money before you die: will the pension be enough to pay for nursing home care if you need it? Will you have to sell your house to pay for care? Can you trust those who you might give power of attorney to, not to rip you off if you aren't able to take care of your own affairs any more? Will your family argue about your money?
Or perhaps your questions about inheritance refer to your own potential expectations. Who benefits from the wills of your parents, grandparents, siblings? How much might they leave you? Will it all go on nursing home fees or can you expect a nice lump sum to pay off the mortgage or help your children buy their first home at some point? What if they change their minds and leave it all to the cats home instead?
These might not seem like particularly religious questions, but interestingly Jesus in the gospels talks more about money than any other subject. Todays gospel reading is very firmly focused on worries and family conflicts about inheritance.
And of course in the last week or so the papers have been full of Archbishop Justin talking about credit unions and how best as a church we can help those both in our churches and our wider community who are struggling with issues of debt and credit.
I don't know very much about credit unions, but I have discovered that there is a local one based in Gilesgate and I have made contact with the co-ordinator and will be meeting with her in September. But I gather that one of the main things we can do that would help would be to invest some of any savings we may have with them, as they only work if there are enough investors to balance the would-be creditors.
What Jesus makes very clear in this story and others, is that what we do with our money is a religious issue. Justin, when he was Bishop of Durham, called it Theology in Numbers. What we do with our money reveals what we really believe, what our values really are. What we do with our money can change the world and our communities for the better, working with God to build his Kingdom here on earth: or not. And if not, it may well be actively involved in doing evil rather than simply not doing good. It may be funding unethical companies- arms manufacturers, pornography dealers - if we simply leave it in the bank. Remember that factory collapse in Bangladesh earlier this year? The clothes we choose to buy, if we don't think about what we are buying, are probably being made in unsafe conditions and effectively upholding modern day slavery. What we do with our money, now and after our deaths, is a gospel issue. You could even say, given how much Jesus spoke about money compared to other things, that it is the gospel issue.
But look at how today's gospel starts. Someone asks Jesus a question- 'tell my brother what to do!' And Jesus' reply is startling: 'Friend, who set me up to be judge over you?'. Now I don't know about you, but this isn't what I'd expect Jesus to say here. I rather tend to think of him as being set up as a judge over me. But he refuses that position.
And then what does he say? I first read this passage as 'don't be greedy', but that's not quite what he says. 'take care', he says. 'Be on your guard against all kinds of greed'. We know we are not meant to be greedy: Jesus tells us to be careful, to examine our motivations.
Jesus doesn't tell us what to do. He doesn't give us rules to follow about what we do with our money. How much easier it would be if he did, however challenging they might be! You can see the attraction of churches saying that everyone should give 10% of any earnings to God, for example: we might resent it as a rule, but at least we would know where we stand. And we could feel smug if we were doing it. But thats the great danger of rules and regulations: they encourage righteousness, smugness, guilt and hypocrisy, rather than encouraging responsibility, thoughtfulness, love and honesty.
'Jesus, tell us what we should do with our money' might be our prayer. But all too often I fear that we are even more like the man at the beginning of todays story, and what we are actually asking is 'Jesus, tell other people what they should do with their money'! Tell them to give us more of it. Tell them to spend it on things we approve of. Tell them to be more responsible so the welfare bill is lower and our taxes less taxing, or tell the government to spend more or less on the things we want more or less of.
But Jesus' reply remains, 'Friend, who set me up to be judge over you?' Instead of giving us simple rules to apply, he tells us to take care, be on your guard against greed. To examine our motivations, take responsibility for our own financial decisions. And in doing so, hear and reflect on the stories Jesus tells us about money: about life, and death, and jealousy, and excess, and greed, and investment and profit and eternity. To be aware of a bigger picture than our own comfort, our own families, our own church, our own lifetimes. To try to make our judgements in the light of something like a Gods eye view of the world, with a sense of Gods perspective of time and fairness and generosity.
Amen.
Monday, 5 August 2013
Wedding Hymn
So, a twitter friend, @artsyhonker, is getting married; and being a church organist has chosen her hymn tunes first and was struggling to find suitable words for one of them!
I love a challenge, so I had a go. The tune is 'Cornwall' (886 886): you can hear it here.
(this post has been edited 6th Aug, to add my thoughts and to change the text of the hymn a bit: thanks to Kathryn and Paul for comments).
My main inspiration - apart from having to fit that tune! - was the wedding service itself. It has always seemed odd to me that we don't have wedding hymns that celebrate the amazing vows that are being made. So as much as possible I have quoted from the wedding service. The first line, 'Unending love and faithfulness' is from the blessing of the rings: it fit the meter perfectly, so I knew I wanted it in there.
'All that I am I give to you, all that I have I share with you' is part of the words the couple say to each other at the exchange of the rings, and has always seemed to me to be the most amazing words any one can promise to another person.
The second verse begins a version of the sentence that opens the wedding service, 'God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them'. Apart from being a lovely phrase, it seems particularly helpful and appropriate for use in a context where many at least of the guests, and often one or more of the couple, are a little agnostic about their faith: it helpfully explains God in terms of the love that everyone is there to celebrate, and assures everyone that they can speak of God in this context with a clear conscience.
I was also very conscious that, whilst this is a commissioned piece and I wanted it to be meaningful for the couple involved to sing, it needed to work sung by the whole congregation. So places where it uses 'our' are deliberately slightly ambiguous, referring both to the couple and to the congregation. And the direct quote from the vows is in inverted commas.
Finally, I was conscious at the back of my mind that I wanted to make sure this could be sung at a same sex commitment ceremony (and indeed by feminists!), so I wanted to focus on celebrating the quality of commitment rather than any particular baggage about what marriage has meant historically.
I don't think this is particularly brilliant poetry, if I'm honest, but it does work better sung to the tune (try it!).
I really enjoyed the challenge...and am inspired to try to write more hymn words for places where the canon seems to have gaps!
Unending love and faithfulness
We sing with heartfelt thankfulness
And celebrate today;
“All that I am I give to you
All that I have I share with you”:
These vows fill us with awe.
I love a challenge, so I had a go. The tune is 'Cornwall' (886 886): you can hear it here.
(this post has been edited 6th Aug, to add my thoughts and to change the text of the hymn a bit: thanks to Kathryn and Paul for comments).
My main inspiration - apart from having to fit that tune! - was the wedding service itself. It has always seemed odd to me that we don't have wedding hymns that celebrate the amazing vows that are being made. So as much as possible I have quoted from the wedding service. The first line, 'Unending love and faithfulness' is from the blessing of the rings: it fit the meter perfectly, so I knew I wanted it in there.
'All that I am I give to you, all that I have I share with you' is part of the words the couple say to each other at the exchange of the rings, and has always seemed to me to be the most amazing words any one can promise to another person.
The second verse begins a version of the sentence that opens the wedding service, 'God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them'. Apart from being a lovely phrase, it seems particularly helpful and appropriate for use in a context where many at least of the guests, and often one or more of the couple, are a little agnostic about their faith: it helpfully explains God in terms of the love that everyone is there to celebrate, and assures everyone that they can speak of God in this context with a clear conscience.
I was also very conscious that, whilst this is a commissioned piece and I wanted it to be meaningful for the couple involved to sing, it needed to work sung by the whole congregation. So places where it uses 'our' are deliberately slightly ambiguous, referring both to the couple and to the congregation. And the direct quote from the vows is in inverted commas.
Finally, I was conscious at the back of my mind that I wanted to make sure this could be sung at a same sex commitment ceremony (and indeed by feminists!), so I wanted to focus on celebrating the quality of commitment rather than any particular baggage about what marriage has meant historically.
I don't think this is particularly brilliant poetry, if I'm honest, but it does work better sung to the tune (try it!).
I really enjoyed the challenge...and am inspired to try to write more hymn words for places where the canon seems to have gaps!
Unending love and faithfulness
We sing with heartfelt thankfulness
And celebrate today;
Commitment, comfort, honour, joy
Our hearts and minds and tongues
employ
And may our lives display.
For God is love: living in love
We live in God, and God above
Our hearts and lives enfolds.
Family and friends to share our bliss (NB, 'Family' needs to be sung 'Fam'ly'!)
Our joy, our heaven on earth is this (Acknowledgement: this line is from Wesley)
All love this love upholds.
All that I have I share with you”:
These vows fill us with awe.
This promise will be our delight
Our inspiration day and night
From this day evermore.
You're welcome to use these words if you would like to under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported licence.
Friday, 26 July 2013
The Lord's Prayer: Sermon for July 28th
These are my sermon notes for Sunday. If you come along to St. Mary Magdalene, Belmont you will hear a different version of this depending on whether you are at the 8am BCP communion, the 10.30 All Age with Baptism, or the 12.30 Baptism service...but these are the notes for all of them.
If you are also following the Teenage prayer experiment blog then you may recognise some of the material!
Gospel Reading: Luke 11:1-13
11Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” 2He said to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. 3Give us each day our daily bread. 4And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.” 5And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; 6for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ 7And he answers from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’ 8I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs. 9“So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 10For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. 11Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? 12Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? 13If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”
Sermon Outline:
- Being in bed and not wanting to get up to answer demands for
a drink of water or a story or a lost teddy is something all parents
– indeed, all grandparents and anyone who has ever stayed in a
house with small children - know well!
- When people asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he taught them
the short form of prayer that we now call 'The Lord's
Prayer'.
There are slightly different versions of it in different accounts - the one in our reading today is the shortest - but they all are similar.
- And they all begin in a way that was revolutionary at the
time; by calling God, ‘Father’. This sounds quite formal to us,
but the original word, ‘Abba’, is very informal, more like
‘daddy’. This was a huge contrast to how people were used to
talking to and about God – as YHWH, THE LORD! Jesus was
introducing people to the amazing idea that God is someone with whom
we can have a personal, emotional, individual relationship.
- Its a lovely touch to follow this, in this story, with the
image of a dad not wanting to get out of bed! It brings it right
down to earth, doesn’t it? We may not want to get up and help,
when that little voices pipes up 'Da -ddy? Mu-mmy?' in the middle of
the night. But if we are pestered enough we will drag ourselves out
of bed and deal with the problem so we can all get back to sleep.
- And Jesus uses this example to say to us: look, God really
does hear and answer prayers. Even if you don’t think your worries
or problems are important enough for God, even if you find it hard
to believe that God loves you, just think about how you end up doing
something for your kids when they pester you enough: even if it were
true that God thought your complaint quite trivial, he would still
answer it!
- Its important to note that Jesus and the Church are not
saying that God is exactly like a dad. We all probably have mixed
feelings about our parents, and about our own parenting ability. But
Jesus knows that and his image here has a wonderful realism about
it. ‘If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to
your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy
Spirit to those who ask!’. God knows that our earthly images of
parenting are often lazy, angry, unreliable or impatient as least as
often as they are close, loving and reliable. Unless we’ve had a
very bad experience of parenting – when you might think ‘actually
you know what, my dad is exactly the kind of person who if you asked
for a fish would think it was funny to give you a snake’ - most
would agree that yes, for all their faults, our parents did broadly
speaking know how to feed us reasonably healthily most of the time.
- So, Jesus says, if even we, who know we aren’t perfect
parents, get some things right, how much more can we rely on God to
look after us. Even the best parenting is only a pale approximation
to God’s infinite and total care for us.
- So what else does Jesus
reckon we should say when we pray? Well, the next phrase he gives us
here is Hallowed be your name. Again,
this may sound fairly formal, but it just means God, we pray that
everyone may call you holy. So we are starting off by
recognising that God is close and personal – our Father – but
also totally holy.
- Your kingdom come is the next thing we ask. Jesus's
main message when he was talking to people was about God's kingdom
coming. But he didn't seem to mean a normal kind of kingdom. He
didn’t mean he was going to take over and rule the world like the
kings and presidents of our countries. This seems to be a prayer for
the world to be a better place, a place where everyone is valued
equally. What do you think would make the world a better place, more
like the world Jesus taught us to hope for? What would be different
about life in God's kingdom?
- Give us today our daily bread This line means we are
asking God for what we need, and as in the story Jesus told about
the dad in bed, we trust that God will hear us and give us what we
need. But the word ‘daily’ is interesting. It means we are not
expecting God to give us everything we would like. We are only
asking for enough for today. So we are trusting God one day at a
time, and trying not to worry too much about the future.
- And forgive us our sins We might not feel we have
'sins', as it sounds quite heavy and serious: or we might think this
just means eating too many icecreams! But Jesus included these words
for everyone. Asking God to forgive us our sins, all that we do
wrong, means admitting that we are not perfect. We can feel safe to
admit that, because Jesus promises that nothing we can do or be can
stop God loving us and hearing and answering our prayers.
- As we forgive those who sin against us, or are indebted to
us. This can be the most difficult bit! If we can trust God to
love us whatever we do, can we bring ourselves to forgive people who
have been horrible to us? If you are angry with someone, it can feel
like letting them off if you choose to stop being angry. Forgiving
doesn’t mean forgetting: it doesn’t stop us knowing what has
happened in the past, and being sensible about our future actions.
It doesn’t mean we have to trust someone who has let us down many
times in the past. But Christians believe - and scientists agree -
that choosing not to hold on to anger makes you a happier and
healthier person. So here we ask God to help us not to hold onto
resentment and bitterness for all the things that seem so unfair in
life, but to let them go and free ourselves for the future.
- And do not bring us to the time of trial; or in the better
known version, Deliver us from evil. This line is a catch-all
prayer asking for protection from bad or scary things. From illness,
people dying, people wanting to hurt us, anything we are worried or
anxious about. In this line we are praying that those things never
happen to us. There’s a famous echo of this line too in Google’s
slogan – ‘Don’t be evil’. I wonder if this line maybe also
asking for God to help not to be evil to other people?
What is not known is how Jesus meant these words to be used. Did he mean 'say exactly these words'? Or did he mean 'include these areas when you pray'. We don't know, but many Christians do both. Saying the Lord's prayer is a good way to start or end prayers, and if you go to church it will usually be said in every service.
It is a good prayer to use if you can't think of anything to say, or you don't think you know how to pray, or don't know what to pray for. Just use these words, and you know you are doing what Jesus taught his first followers to do.
- So let us pray, in the words that Jesus taught us:
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
An Equal Episcopate? Theological Explorations
This is the text of an article of mine that has been published in the most recent volume of Modern Believing, July 2013. It is about 3,000 words. Some of the arguments have been aired by me before, either here on this blog or in conferences, but not all have been previously published. It was, of course, written before the most recent developments in restarting the legislative process. The footnotes are not reproduced here.
Abstract:
In November 2012 the General Synod of the Church of England voted against legislation which would have both opened the episcopate to women, and established a package of provisions for those who did not accept that this was a legitimate development. This article analyses how that decision came to be made, and discusses subsequent developments. Some of the key arguments that have been made against the ordination of women to the episcopate are then considered. The concept of ‘sacramental assurance’ is critiqued, and the question of a theological anthropology of gender is explored.
.
History
In November 2012 the General Synod of the Church of England voted against legislation which would have both opened the episcopate to women, and put in place a legislative package of provisions for those who did not accept that this was a legitimate development. The votes of just 6 members of the House of Laity prevented the legislation from achieving the required 2/3 majority in each House of the Synod. Almost immediately the bishops, and notably the newly appointed Archbishop-in-waiting, Justin Welby, were insisting that new legislation would be brought forward as soon as possible, spurred on by howls of outrage from press, Parliament and the general public.
Bishops were quick to point out that it was not them who had voted down the legislation - the bishops had 'come good in the end', according to one prominent episcopal supporter of women clergy, voting overwhelmingly in favour. Yet a great deal of anger, hurt and disappointment was directed at them, reflecting the fact that it was widely considered to have been the ill advised intervention of the House of Bishops in May 2012 that was responsible for the failure of the legislation.
The changes that the House of Bishops made to the legislation at that point threw out of balance the delicate compromise that had been achieved over past years, and which had received an astonishing level of endorsement at diocesan level, with only 2 dioceses declining to endorse the legislation. As a result, many strong supporters of women's ordination indicated that they would be unable to support the legislation at final approval, since it now entrenched and gave tacit approval to misogynistic ideas about women and damaging theologies of gender and ecclesiology.
There was a storm of protest, from myself and many others, which initially greatly puzzled the bishops, many of whom appear not to have realised the full implications of the changes they had approved. The final approval debate, initially scheduled for July, was hastily reconsidered, and was replaced in July by a debate on whether the House of Bishops should be invited to think again - a motion that received an exact 2/3 majority (though it was not counted by houses).
The legislation was recommitted to the House of Bishops for further consideration, and one minor change was made – ‘the Appleby amendment’, after its writer, the Revd. Janet Appleby. This then comprised the legislation that was presented in November 2012. That legislation having been lost, a consultation process was quickly started to try to discern a way forward. Facilitated discussions were held with a handful of selected participants in February and April 2013, and following the first of these a consulation paper was issued inviting responses. At the time of writing, it is not yet known what fresh proposals the House of Bishops will bring to General Synod in July 2013, but the expectation is that no new legislation will be proposed immediately, but rather further rounds of consultation.
Squaring the Circle
The ongoing problem for this legislation is that from the beginning, it has tried to acheive two irreconcilable aims. Throughout the debates, the term ‘squaring the circle’ has been commonly used as a shorthand for this. The two aims were to have women as bishops on equal terms with men, and to make some sort of provision for those who do not believe that this is a valid development in the ordering of the church. A glance through any of the documents emanating from Forward in Faith, the Anglo-Catholic pressure group formed to oppose the ordination of women, reveals a consistent concern with ‘proper provision’. The rhetoric of those opposing the legislation was that the provision on offer was simply not protection enough from the contamination of Catholic order that women bishops would entail. The difficulty, of course, was in finding ‘provisions’ which did not, by their very nature and existence, imply that women would only be second-class bishops.
For some of those who supported the legislation, simply having women as bishops was the primary aim. Whatever compromises of principle might be necessary to acheive that were therefore considered worthwhile. This is what lay behind the House of Bishops’ ill fated decision in May 2012 to alter the legislation. It also underlies much of the rhetoric of ill-placed ambition that is targeted at those who campaign for women bishops. Some men seemed unable to believe that we women clergy don’t simply want an equal episcopate in order to become bishops ourselves; they were therefore incredulous in July 2012, when they realised that we would vote against discriminatory legislation.
So let me state plainly: having women as bishops is not an end in itself. It is, rather, a necessary but not sufficient means to the end of demonstrating, by our ordering of our church, that the Church of England believes men and women to be equally and jointly made in the image of God, and to be theologically in the same category.There is therefore simply no point in allowing women to be bishops on different terms to men, or in redefining what a bishop is in order to let women in. That would be only allowing women to dress up like bishops whilst retaining a separate class of 'real' bishops.
That is why I support the simplest possible legislation, simply stating that both women and men can be bishops, without putting any supplementary provisions in place. In fact, I would go further: I would prefer us not to enact any legislation at all, than enshrine discrimination in the episcopate in law. Were we to do that, the Church of England would be officially saying that gender discrimination is acceptable theologically.
It is of course worth noting that every province of the Anglican communion that already has legislation in place to allow both men and women to become bishops, has such simple legislation. No other province has any ‘safeguards’ or ‘provisions’ for those who disagree with this development. In every case where there are women bishops, it is simply left to them to make appropriate provision for those of their priests who have difficulty in accepting their orders or sacraments. In all cases such priests do need to accept the legal authority of the female bishop, and have been prepared to do so. They have been helped in doing so by the existence of considerable precedents for women holding ecclesiastical jurisdiction, as in the case of abbesses and of course the Queen. Notwithstanding some high profile clashes in the Episcopal Church of the USA, in most cases there, and in all other provinces, such informal arrangements have worked well for all concerned. There does not seem to be any reason why the Church of England should need or desire more complex arrangements.
It is also worth noting that in 2006-7, simple legislation (popularly known as a ‘single clause measure’) was the preferred option of Forward in Faith as well as groups such as WATCH. I remember being asked then by New Directions to write an article explaining why I supported a Single Clause Measure, just as they did, but for different reasons. At the time I recall suggesting that perhaps they wanted a Single Clause Measure because they thought it would be more easily defeated, but I was assured that it was because it was the only theologically coherent way forward. The ease with which such groups have shifted the grounds of their arguments has been quite astonishing to watch, and rather destroys any claims to ‘integrity’. In recent months, as already noted, the argument has been presented as having always been about ‘proper provision’, and the simple legislation that this group once purported to consider the only coherent approach has been characterised as a radical and cruel suggestion. One recent contributor to New Directions was refreshingly honest about the shifting grounds of argument, noting breezily: ‘pressure’s off for the moment to think up fresh arguments against female episcopacy, and to suggest hiding places from it’.
The consultation document issued in February 2013 was largely uncontroversial, but ended with the proposition that the legislation should aim to achieve 'a greater sense of security....[of] an accepted and valued place in the Church of England' for those who do not accept the ordination of women. Whilst such a sense of security is arguably desirable (a question I will return to below), this is not, of course, a viable aim on which to base a piece of legislation. Legislative aims must be measurable, but a 'sense of security' can only ever be measured by whether those involved say it has been given.
More fundamentally, at least some people demonstrably oppose women's ordination on theological grounds that are at best mistaken, and at worst heretical. At least one speech in the Final Approval debate in November 2012, for example, argued that women should be subordinate to men based on a supposed inherent subordination within the Trinity: a view clearly beyond the bounds of orthodox Christian belief. So if we are to aim for a 'sense of security' of being 'accepted and valued' within the Church of England, then we need to be very clear indeed that it is the people who hold these views who are 'accepted and valued', not the views themselves. Or, if certain views contrary to the mainstream doctrine of the Church are to be declared 'accepted and valued', then we need to be very clear indeed which ones these are. Otherwise the effect of this aim, were it to be realized in legislation, would be to say that anyone’s idiosyncratic views - on creation, the Trinity, the Bible, or whatever else underlies their belief that women cannot be ordained – are all necessarily 'accepted and valued'.
This would be an astonishingly ‘liberal’ statement for the Church to make, were it not for the fact that this theological permissiveness extends only to those who oppose women’s ordination and consecration. In other words, the Church is in danger of saying that women are so fundamentally divisive that a desire to avoid the ministry of women is the one thing for which legislative permission to disregard the canons will be given. I would be horrified if we were to enact legislation that said this: and yet this very option is consistently presented as simply being ‘generous provision’ for a minority that fears it may become oppressed.
Sacramental Assurance and Risk
One of the recurring themes of the opposition to women's ordination is the element of doubt versus assurance. The arguments vary, but a common theme is that it is unclear whether women should (or can) really be ordained, and so it is unclear whether, when an ordained woman is functioning as a priest or bishop, anything is actually happening. So the elements at Holy Communion might not really become Christ's body and blood if the service is presided over by a woman. A priest might not be really ordained if the ordination is done by a woman. God has promised the church that he will work through the sacraments, and our confidence in our salvation is rooted in that promise, so it shouldn’t be disturbed.The point is not that women definitely can't be ordained, but that it is uncertain, and that introducing an unnecessary element of uncertainty into the sacraments is foolhardy.
Proponents of women's ordination, myself included, have usually responded to this sort of argument by simply ridiculing the idea that women can't be ordained. My own response is primarily to argue that a false theological distinction is being drawn between men and women (of which more below).
But I suggest, too, that the very concept of sacramental assurance is itself problematic.
The parish profile for my new job asked, among other things, for 'a prayerful risk taker'. A sampling of job advertisements over recent months suggests that such risk taking, 'ministerial entrepreneurship' in one inelegant phrase, is increasingly seen as valuable. The new Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, when he was Dean of Liverpool, established its strapline as ‘A safe place to take risks’. The parable of the talents comes to mind, suggesting that it is better to take risks for God than to worry about protecting what you have (though I would have loved Jesus to have included an example of someone who invested 7 talents but lost them all due to changed market conditions, or bad weather).
But if risk taking is good - if risk taking is Godly, as the parable would seem to imply - then is sacramental assurance something to be desired and supported? How Godly is a desire for certainty?
Synod papers discussing the women bishops legislation repeatedly use the phrase 'necessary but not sufficient'. We are told that for some, the maleness of their priest or bishop is necessary but not sufficient - to really feel safe, they might need a man who has been ordained by a man, or even by a man who has never participated in or supported women's ordination. This is to give 'sacramental assurance' - the feeling of certainty that the sacraments they are getting are real sacraments. Women's ordination, because it introduces an element of uncertainty, is seen as something that it is valid to want to avoid, since certainty is a good thing.
But I wonder if in fact we should embrace women's ordination as valuable precisely because it challenges such a desire for certainty? It is worth considering the history of infant baptism, which provides something of a historical parallel. In the Reformation period the practice of baptising babies was hotly contested by some radical reformers. This was because the biblical evidence for the practice is limited at best, and because it was felt that baptising babies risked endorsing the Roman Catholic economy of salvation, in which church ceremonies were necessary for salvation, not merely personal faith.
However, the mainstream reformers consistently resisted this argument. For Luther, Calvin and others, infant baptism was crucial. This was partly because it fitted into their city-state view of Christendom, that the membership of the church was the same as the membership of the community. But it was also - and this is particularly clear in Luther - because baptising babies symbolised very clearly that faith itself was a gift of God, entirely undeserved, not something we work to achieve.
The sacraments are not a magical incantation that need to be done by the right person in the right way to 'work'. Instead, they are God's free gift to humanity, and always depend on God's grace. It is indeed reassuring to think that God has promised to work through them; but that reassurance shouldn't tempt us into thinking that the church and church tradition has tamed and controlled Gods grace and power, and now has a monopoly on it. How sad, and how dangerously limiting, to think of God's saving grace as being constrained to only flow uncertain pre-approved channels. If ordaining women challenges such a heresy, then all the more reason to do it.
Male and female: a category error?
I use the term heresy advisedly, as I do believe that dangerously false theology, not merely misogyny, is at stake in this debate. Fundamentally, the arguments against women being ordained and consecrated rest on an understanding of women and men being theologically distinct categories.
There are clear parallels here with the debates about sexuality and same sex attraction. Indeed, it seems to me that very often the debate about the ordination of women is acting as a proxy for debates about sexuality. Certainly, the two are frequently linked in ‘slippery slope’ rhetoric.
The ordination of women and gay marriage are of course too very different debates, and I know many people who would be considered conservative on one and liberal on the other, and vice versa. The biblical and theological arguments for and against each rest on some clearly distinct grounds. However, there is I think one key respect in which they are indeed linked, and that is the fundamental premise that men and women are two completely different categories of human being. This is not simply a statement of the obvious - that men and women are physically and chromosomally distinct. This is rather the premise that men and women are not just variants of the same fundamental theological category 'humanity', but are two theologically distinct categories, such that what one might say theologically of one cannot necessarily be said of the other. How God relates to one is fundamentally different to how God relates to the other.
It is of course the case that men and women are, broadly speaking, biologically distinct, since human beings – in common with most, but not all, plants and animals – reproduce and evolve through sexual differentiation. However, much debate in this area engages only tangentially, if at all, with the biological reality of sexual differentiation in humans. First, it is often assumed that sexual reproduction implies male/female differentiation. Yet this is of course not the case. Most plants reproduce sexually yet few have distinct male and female variants; whilst snails are probably the best known example of an animal species in which all the individuals are hermaphrodite, and mating involves the mutual exchange of genetic material.
So the simple biological fact of sexual reproduction does not imply the differention of gender roles. Furthermore, science is increasingly finding that sexual differentiation in humans is not as clear cut as has generally been thought. There has been a strong revision upwards in the estimates of the frequency of intersex conditions, where one individual has some or all of the sexual characteristics of both genders. These conditions were given substantial international publicity when the International Olympic Committee met to debate whether Castor Semenya could compete as a woman when a fellow competitor had complained that she too masculine to count as female.
Other questions still being raised and researched at a very early stage are issues surrounding transgender people - those who claim to feel 'trapped in the wrong body'. The NHS is convinced enough that this is a genuine medical disorder to pay for corrective surgery when psychological investigatons indicate that it will be helpful.
Questions of sexuality and sexual orientation are also interesting biologically. Considerable evidence has emerged in recent decades of widespread same sex activity, sometimes combined with heterosexual mating as in the promiscuous Bonobo monkeys, who appear to use sexual activity as a commonplace social bonding mechanism, and sometimes as a long term same sex pair bond, as in the recent case of the 'gay penguins', which gained considerable publicity. Again, biological research does not seem to support such a rigid distinction between the sexes as much theological argument presupposes.
So the insights of modern biology and anthropology do not encourage us to think of male and female as fundamentally distinct categories. But neither, I suggest, do the Bible, or the other resources of Christian tradition, require us to think that because humanity reproduces sexually, male and female are separate theological categories.
Some decades ago, Ruether wrote a very influential article asking 'Can a male saviour save women?'. Her point was that if Jesus' maleness was a key salvific characteristic - if it mattered theologically that Jesus did not just become human but became male - then women were not saved. It is a basic principle of incarnational theology, particularly strong in the Greek Orthodox tradition, that the incarnation itself is salvific. As Gregory of Nazianzen put it - 'the unassumed is the unhealed'. In other words, humanity - specifically human flesh, embodied humanity, not just our souls - is redeemed by the incarnation. It must therefore be the case - unless you wish to argue that only male bodies are redeemed - that what Jesus assumed was fundamentally humanity, not maleness. In other words, the doctrine of the incarnation cannot be reconciled with a view of men and women as fundamentally different theological categories except by denying that women are as saved as men are.
Jesus maleness must, therefore, be seen as an incidental particularity of his becoming human. Furthermore, a view that sees male and female as theologically and categorically distinct theologically is very often, if not inevitably, idolatrous. Historically, maleness has been given God-like status. God has been consistently imagined as being male, and by extension, men have been assumed to be more God-like than women. As Mary Daly put it very succinctly, 'If God is male, the male is God'. Viewing men as closer to God, more made in God’s image, than women is to make manhood an idol.
And the male ideal that has seen as being most God-like has generally been a particular kind of male - adult, not a child; strong and healthy, not weak or disabled or ill; heterosexual, not castrated, and at various points in history either celibate (showing strong mastery over his bodily urges), or married with children (demonstrating fertility and maturity). Not only have women traditionally been seen as further from God than such men, but men have typically been judged and graded in holiness against this particular ideal.
Regardless of all the many gifts that womens ordination brings, and hopefully will soon bring to the House of Bishops, one of the most important things will be to challenge, simply by their presence, this idolisation of a particular type of adult maleness as more God like than other gender identity.
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Saturday, 13 July 2013
The Parable of the Showing-Off Lawyer
Sermon for Sunday 14th July, on Luke 10:25-37
Gospel reading:
Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
- If I asked you to illustrate that story, I wonder what
scene you would choose to draw? Which scene is the one that you see in your
head when someone says the Good Samaritan?
-
The lawyer
testing Jesus? The man being beaten up, stripped and robbed? The priest, or
levite, passing by on the other side? The Samaritan, washing his wounds? Or
taking him to the inn on his own donkey? Or paying the innkeeper to carry on
looking after him?
-
A couple of weeks ago I set Noah and Toby making this
story in Lego (you can see the results here). They each chose a different scene to build, and got quite into
making the details. Noah modeled the traveler being ambushed and beaten up.
Toby chose to model the scene in the inn, with the wounded traveler in bed, and
the Samaritan paying the innkeeper to look after him.
-
Interestingly, they both omitted entirely in their
discussion with me the passing by on the other side, which we often hear and
read as the main point of this story. The nasty religious authorities, more
concerned with their own safety and purity than with the plight of an injured,
or possibly dead, man at the side of the road. And that view of superficially
righteous people is a common theme in anti-religious sentiment, its one we
recognize from the press, and possibly from our own experience. Some members of
many religions do indeed seem more concerned with keeping their faith and their
church free from any contamination, than engaging riskily and at a real
personal and financial cost with the needs they encounter. That’s why hypocrisy
is one of the charges most frequently leveled at the church.
-
But we all know this story so well. We know that as
Christians we are meant to see everyone – Muslim or Christian, black or white,
etc etc, - as our neighbour. And by and large Christians have indeed taken this
story to heart. We don’t need to know someone to feel responsible for helping
them. We give to the foodbank, and to Christian Aid.
-
So I’d like to focus instead on the scene that makes
Jesus tell this story. A lawyer is testing Jesus – he wants to see if he will
give the right answers, according to the book, on a multiple choice exam in
being a good Jewish rabbi. And it was a big book. There weren’t just the Hebrew
scriptures to know inside out, but books and books of oral tradition and
commentary, learned answers to complicated questions. Being a lawyer then was
rather like being a lawyer now – you had to know not just the letter of the law
itself, but all the case history and learned opinions.
-
But the big difference was that law was a very major
part of religious practice. Law and faith weren’t two different but related
things as we now see them – they were very much the same thing. Keeping the law
was what it was to be a good Jew, just as it is what it is to be a good Muslim.
Christianity is very radically different from this. Christianity is not and never has been about keeping the law.
That is why it was so shocking, and why the scribes, Pharisees and lawyers
found Jesus and his followers so scandalous. Even now, it is a shockingly
radical approach to religion which some Christians find hard to accept, and try
to impose new forms of law – who you can marry, who you can associate with, how
much you must give, what sort of language you may and may not use, for example.
-
And yet….when Jesus turns the lawyers question back on
him, and asks what he reads in the law, his answer is beautiful. It is
aspirational, rather than achievable. It is poetic, rather than legalisitic.
-
He answered, “You
shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and
with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”
And Jesus said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will
live.”
-
And then what happens? The lawyer, wanting to justify
himself, asks who qualifies as his neighbour. Wanting to justify himself. When
I imagine myself in that lawyers shoes, I can imagine him squirming with
embarrassment. He has stood up, in front of his peers, perhaps egged on by them
– go on, you ask him! – perhaps trying to impress them. He has asked Jesus a
killer question. I don’t need to imagine that – it happens all the time at
academic conferences. A cocky Phd student stands up to ask the big shot big
name speaker a sneaky, clever-clever question, not because he wants to know the
answer, but because he wants everyone to applaud his cleverness and audacity.
I’m sure you can all think of similar situations from your own working lives or
circles of acquaintance – the person who shouts out clever comments during the
pub quiz, perhaps; the relation who quizzes you on your latest holiday rather
too loudly and always seems to have done something similar but more impressive
just last year.
-
So we can imagine this lawyer looking round his friends
and peers quite chuffed with himself – come on! Maybe with whatever the first century
equivalent of one of those fist pumping or finger-lickin’ gestures.
-
And then Jesus turns the question on him. And he falls
silent for a moment. What do you need to do to be saved? And he looks Jesus in
the eye for what can only have been a second, but feels like a lifetime.
-
And past his learning, past his desire to show off,
past his professional mastery of the law, his answer, his deepest desire,
surges up in his heart: and before he
knows what he is doing, it comes out of his mouth.
-
“love the Lord
your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your
strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself”
-
And Jesus holds his gaze a moment longer, and smiles,
and nods.
-
And then – just when he is feeling a joy, a hunger, a
thirst for holiness, a sense that somehow he has arrived at the place he has
long been studying the maps for –
-
Then. Behind him, someone sniggers.
-
And he feels embarrassment pour over him, and his face
and neck flush hot. What on earth has he just said?
-
And all too human, something I recognize only too well,
in his embarrassment and fear that he has revealed something far too personal –
he has been caught talking of religion as if he believed it, as if it meant
something, he has just been heard by all his professional peers talking
poetically of love, for crying out loud! – in his embarrassment, he asks
another clever-clever question. ‘And who is my neighbour?’
-
It is his own statement, not Jesus’, that he is arguing
with here! He was the one who said ‘love your neighbour as yourself’. And now
he feels a fool, and he desperately tries to cover up his embarrassment by
pretending his answer was a trap. Ah ha! You just agreed with me: right, can you
get out of this one? It’s a classic lawyer technique. It might have worked with
his peers. But we all know the story Jesus tells in response. And he tells it without
interruptions: we can imagine the little group of lawyers caught up in the
story, wondering what the punchline will be. And maybe some of them – they are
lawyers after all – trying to second guess the punchline and work out what
their next question will be.
-
And we can only imagine the response among the group of
lawyers when Jesus tells them ‘Go, and do likewise’, and walks away.
-
Were they all embarrassed? Was there an awkward
silence, and then a silent or subdued dispersal? Or did they cover their
embarrassment, or their resentment, or the fact that they were moved despite
themselves but don’t want to show it, with nervous laughter, or ribald jokes,
or rude personal comments about Jesus’ personal hygiene?
-
We don’t know. The gospel moves swiftly on to the next
incident, the next town, the next scandalous and outrageous encounter.
-
And we are left, like the lawyers, with a moment where
we seemed to glimpse the truth, where our hearts leaped within us, where we
longed to love God with all our hearts, soul, strength and mind, and our
neighbour as ourselves…
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…And with the moment after. When the standard set
before us seems ridiculously unattainable. When the uncomfortable demands we
would have to put on ourselves if we were to take it seriously make us
nervously distance ourselves from the story. When we come away from that hot,
dusty, rock strewn road, and ask awkward questions about how really, in this
day and age, are we meant to help every passing stranger in trouble, and aren’t
they likely to be junkies anyway so we might think we are helping but might
actually be doing more harm than good, and what are our taxes for?
-
And many of those are good questions. But lets examine
ourselves when we ask them, and ask silently, inwardly, honestly – are we
asking them partly, at least, because like our lawyer friend we are embarrassed
by our emotional response to Jesus, afraid of what our peers might think of us
if we take God too seriously, wanting to distance ourselves from the
terrifyingly awesome vision of holiness that we sometimes catch a glimpse of?
-
I don’t think any of us, if we are honest, are actually
planning to ‘go and do likewise’ this morning. And we are embarrassed about
that. But lets try, try, to think of this not just as the story of the Good
Samaritan, but as the story of the pushy and embarrassed lawyer. Because that
is our story. And being aware of our own discomfort with the challenge Jesus
presents helps keep us honest, and saves us from hypocrisy.
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