Mike's musings

Equality and an ordained priesthood

(backposting) Helen asked the following (extremely good) question about yesterday's post:

• Genuine question: Thinking of Sally's post about standing with the people during the covenant, and the fact that you were standing behind the altar - how do you reconcile this 'equality for all' to the idea of an ordained priesthood?

The answer, I think, is that I believe that there's an assumption of equality with regard s to salvation. That doesn't mean that I don't believe there's anything special about an ordained priesthood. Or even that I don't believe that there's nothing ontologically different about an ordained priesthood. But that doesn't mean that I believe that there's anything ontologically special about the human beings (read "sinners") who are ordained as priests.

To explain somewhat, I'm very aware that priests are sinners, because we are all - as humans - sinners. But what it means to be ordained priest is to accept a charge from God - through the church - and to accept the responsibility and authority (mainly the former) that this brings. The ability to perform the duties of a priest is a charism (or set of charisms) no different in many ways from many other charisms. And it is, of course, God-given. The acceptance of the vocation to priesthood, both by the man or woman accepting it, and by the Church, is a huge responsibility. The ordination is the acceptance of this charge by the person ordained and by the Church, and the sacrament through which God endows it, is something special. But the person accepting it is, and remains, and human, a sinner, and equal with all those other humans around him and her.

Labels: priest, theology

The rich young man, the camel and the needle

I should really have posted this in the Sunday entry, but I only remembered it last night after posting then, so I thought I'd add it today. Last Sunday, the Gospel reading was Mark 10:17-31, which is the story of the rich young man, who asks Jesus what to do to inherit eternal life (and I've just thought: isn't "inherit" an interesting word here?). This is a very challenging text for almost all of us in the Western World, particularly those who are employed and financially stable, and I'd preface all my remarks by pointing out that I'm very aware that I run a great risk, here, of falling into an analysis of the text from a position of power and privilege: something which we must always do with scepticism and a hermeneutics of suspicion.

I read the Gospel having been particularly struck, in Sunday's service, by the power of the Summary of the Law in the Dominical Commandments ("love God above all others, love your neighbour as yourself", from Mark 12:29-31). And then I read the Gospel. And in the passage, Jesus recites some of the commandments to the rich young man. But he does not mention loving God above all others - or, in fact, reference the need to love your neighbour as yourself. And this means that the rich young man never gets to say "I've always done those, too!"

I've always been rather suspicious of the argument that Jesus is warning against idolising money above all else, and that we're safe as long as we don't do that, though this fits in well with Paul's warnings about idolising money, or possessions, or sex. However, I think that it's probably a fair one, as long as we keep in mind the dangers.

Labels: Jesus, money, theology

At home, and downtrodden

(backposting) Downtrodden in two ways, really. The first was that work didn't go well today. Not that it went badly - it was just that all the things I was trying to do, at least in the afternoon, took rather longer than I'd expected, and were more difficult. Rather disappointing, given that I'd had rather a productive morning when I managed work out a rather knotty problem and find a rather nice solution.

The other was being accused, by my (lovely) wife, of "selective washing up". I think this was a suggestion that I'd not been bothering to do the more difficult or dirty pots and pans, but I was hurt by it, as I'm sure everyone will understand.

The day was improved by a) having a pub lunch with Moo and b) having lamb with baked beans for supper. There's something very special about the taste of lamb with baked beans, particularly warmed up roast lamb, and I think God must have known about baked beans when he made roast lamb so yummy. This caused some theological disagreement on my Facebook page, but I welcome controversy.

Labels: food, theology

Cricket, deacons, and the theology of Torchwood

In reverse order, then.

This week's mini-series of Torchwood has attracted a lot of interest, and lots of people I know are talking about it. It seems silly not to mine it for theological content, because it was full of it. The more obvious bits included:

• the brokenness of all characters, particularly when humans are working together in organisations
• the "an injury to one is an injury to all" message
• the deathscene between two gay characters - played absolutely "straight", as it would have been for any heterosexual characters, just highlighting love and loss
• Gwen's sylloquy to camera about understanding why "The Doctor" (read "God") doesn't step in on every occasion to save the day: it's because humans aren't worth it
• child trafficking
• treatment of people - and particularly children - at the "lower ends" of society as if they are basically worthless ("... what do we have school league tables for?")
• the treatment of children in care ("... they were chosen because they wouldn't be missed.")
• the treatment of those with mental illness
• how parenthood - or impending parenthood - changes you
• how impending parenthood - and disasters - affect relationships
• the "sacrificial atonement" which ended the last episode, where Captain Jack Harkness' grandson was killed to save the rest of mankind - or at least the 10% of the children demanded by the 456

How many sermons in that? It was, for my money, and intensely theological - and very thought-provoking - set of programmes. Very well done the BBC.

Deacons? Well, it was Sally's first Sunday as a deacon in the parish, and it was a joy. It made me really, really happy. Not just for her, but for me, too. I really enjoyed my deacon's year, and seeing her taking the role I've spent a year at made me feel so much part of a continuum, particularly as she's a woman. This whole "continuum" of priesthood is very powerful for me at the moment.

Last, and far from least, we managed to draw the first of the Ashes test matches. Quite how, I don't know. But I'm one of many, many England supporters who wants to marry Collingwood or Monty or Anderson or a combination of the 3. Yay!

Labels: television, theology

Preparing for my first communion

A ten-mile bike ride, having pumped up the tyres with my new stirrup pump (Father's Day present). Nice to be riding it again - I started at the end of the autumn, I think - getting the pump (which I'd asked for) was an incentive to get back into it.

I also had quite a long session with my incumbent, John, where we prepared for my first Communion service on Sunday. We walked through the whole service, and had lots of discussion about various aspects. The bit we spent most time on (unsurprisingly) was the Eucharist prayer, and in particular the gestures that he uses. I'd previously spent quite a lot of time talking to my Dad about what he does, and we also had discussion about it during the CME day the other week. Part of the discussion, I'm pleased to say, was about the theology being expressed by the gestures, and John is very happy for my practice to be different to his (as is my Dad). I'm pleased to have spent so much time thinking and talking about this: I'm sure my practice will change, but it should be firmly based in my theology.

As part of the walk-through, I said most of the service. It was interesting to note which bits of the Eucharist prayer I didn't want to say. It was also interesting to note that I think that I'll find giving the Absolution for the first time as affecting, in its own way, as my first prayer of consecration. It's going to be a very emotionally charged day on Sunday, but I'm looking forward to it very much indeed.

On a lighter note, John's the one with the beard...

Labels: communion, ordination, theology

Dementia and belief

At Moo's suggetsion, I listened to the podcast of a recent Beyond Belief from Radio 4. It was about dementia, and how religions - and their adherents - deal with it. It was excellent, very thought-provoking, and extremely moving. I came across the phrase "Ubuntu theology", in relation to Archbishop Tutu, and it really struck a chord. I'm aware of the word "ubuntu" because I use Ubuntu Linux, and its overtones of community, but Ubuntu theology, which apparently was formed at least partly in response to Afrikaaner theology which was defending apartheid, has been summed up by Tutu as "I am because you are". This works very well for a sermon I'm going to be preaching at Boo's baptism. I've been wondering how to centre it, and now I know.

Labels: baptism, sermon, theology

Preaching on the Trinity

It's the one everyone worries about: preaching on the Trinity. Either it's easy to explain - and impossible to understand - or it's impossible to explain - and easy to understand. That's received wisdom, anyway. I was preaching in Colne Engaine, to a family service which a fair percentage of children.

I ended up preaching analogies - and noting that they're both useful and near useless. I used a few analogies, but my main one was cake. It's currently getting a bit of retweeting, which I'm quite chuffed about. The analogy I used was that the Trinity is a little like cake, in that you need ingredients, cooking and eating: they're all separate parts, but they're all required. I said the same about a conversation: you need a speaker, a listener and meaning. Or a song: music, words and singing. It all seemed to go down rather well, and I was quite pleased.

Jo was very sad when Mum and Dad went - lots of tears. So we went swimming, and had a lovely time. Kids went to sleep nice and quickly, and we're having a quiet time watching an old West Wing episode before going early to bed.

Labels: preaching, swimming, theology

Theology, prayer and wider life

I'm finding it quite hard to be reflective and theological in the midst of trying to work out where my professional life is going at the moment. There's still a possibility of a job via Certicom, at RIM, but I'm having to work out what other opportunities will present themselves, particularly as a job I was hoping might come together in the next couple of months has disappeared - for now, at least. So, I'm reading around moving into contracting, which is one option, and following up other leads, too. Time to get back in touch with those friends I've not spoken to a while, and do some good old networking.

Having said the above about theology, I've come up with a plan for what to preach about when I'm over in Bocking for Pentecost, as guest preacher(!). "Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees" - Isaiah 35.

And, to crown it all, we had to take Miri to Colchester Hospital A & E because her elbow ligament popped out again. My fault this time. "Strengthen ye the weak elbows" is more like it...

Labels: job, miri, prayer, theology

Incarnational redundancy

I've got lots of things I want to blog about at the moment from a theological point of view, from more issues around authority to further thoughts on the ontological issues around self-supporting ministry. But I've got to pick one, and the issue that's consuming a fair amount of my time at the moment is redundancy. As I've blogged before, my company has just started redundancy proceedings around my job. I'm not interested in going over the whys and wherefores, nor am I looking for sympathy (though prayers are always welcome). What I'd like to start investigating are some of the theological issues around redundancy, and particularly how it affects me and other self-supporting ministers.

When I announced the fact that I was going through redundancy proceedings on Facebook, a mate of mine (also a self-supporting minister) said:

Redundancy is, oddly, part of the incarnational aspect of being Self-Supporting. It's one of those aspects of life which we SSMs share with our punters/parishioners/victims/congregations. Going Stipendiary in such circumstances would be like giving up.

He was responding to a (tongue-in-cheek) comment from another friend, who'd pointed going full-time might be an option.

He expressed very well a feeling that I'd not have been able to articulate as well at this. I know from conversations with members of my congregation that people appreciate the fact that I can speak "from the pew" as it were. I think that because I have a job and share similar issues (or more obviously similar issues) with them, there's a feeling (which I'm sure isn't always justified) that there are things I can say that match more closely with the experiences of "the people in the pews".

However unjustified those feelings are, they are true in one particular, incarnational way, as my friend identified. I run the risk of losing my job, as few parochial clergy in the Church of England do. Standing by that means standing by them, too. I feel no more called away from full-time (secular) employment than I did when I made the decision to go with self-supporting ministry. Maybe I will some day, but that day isn't yet, and it wouldn't be honest to my vocation which is expressed both within my ordained ministry and in my secular life to decide suddenly to take up full-time ministry now.

Labels: job, theology

A problematic ontology of ministry: employment - and gender

I recently asked couple of questions on Twitter and Facebook:

• What is it to be clergy in non-church employ?
• Is our ministry ontologically different?

These are questions I've been interested in for a while, for obvious reasons: I'm what the Church of England calls a "Self-Supporting Minister" (and used to call a "Non-Stipendiary Minister"). In other words, I'm not employed by the church, but make my living elsewhere, giving time and ministry to the church. There are probably as many models for this as there are SSMs: some have a ministry firmly rooted within their secular employ; some work part-time and give lots of time to the church; some give what time they can, exercising some ministry within their secular job, some ministry within a typical church context, and some ministry in other contexts (this blog and various other online activities being examples from my life). But we all have in common that we neither receive a stipend from the church nor does it employ us full-time.

Before we go into any detail, I'd note that I've done little or no reading in this area, and that this brief essay is the result only of some thinking and discussions I've had. If you have some thoughts about further reading, I'd be interested to hear them.

How "part-timers" are seen

Yesterday we had a CME (Continuing Ministerial Education) seminar, just with some of the SSM curates in the diocese, and we had some interesting stories. We considered three constituencies: congregations, clergy and diocese. Some members of our congregation "get" it - some, indeed, welcome it, but the main questions (of a negative nature, at least) that arose within the congregational context seemed to relate to the amount of time that a non-full-time member of clergy can give to the church. From the stories we shared, there seemed to be little questioning of the legitimacy of the idea of self-supporting clergy. Indeed, some congregations seem to welcome the shared perspective which they may feel that "working" member of clergy can deliver in preaching and pastoral situations.

Although most of the interactions that we had experienced from clergy colleagues were positive, there were reports that some clergy colleagues see us as not committing ourselves to ministry to the extent that they do. Resentments that self-supporting clergy "cherry-pick" the best services and jobs within a team were backed up with one report of a member of clergy saying that "you lot haven't had to give up on a career like we have". Still, however, there seemed to be little suggestion over the legitimacy of self-supporting ministry, though suggestions of lack of commitment suggest lingering questions around a life which is defined by ministry.

In many ways, we, as group, didn't feel convinced that the diocese really knows how to deal with us in all contexts. The stories around how deanery and diocesan synods, chapter meetings, training events and the rest are routinely scheduled with little or no thought for those who work full or even part-time were greeted with resignation and recognition by all. Despite the growing reliance by all Church of England dioceses, self-supporting ministers don't seem to feature highly in the thoughts of many of them. This is, surely, partly because the needs and offerings of SSMs are - in some ways, at least - more diverse than those of the "typical" parish priest or curate.

None of this is new: my father has been an NSM for around 40 years, and I've heard similar stories from him over the years.What is it to be clergy in non-church employ? Is our ministry ontologically different? A word about that word: "ontologically". I'm using sense 2 of dictionary.com's definition of ontologically: Of or relating to essence or the nature of being. In other words, what I mean by the question "is our ministry ontologically different?" is "is there something about the nature of our ministry (that of clergy not employed by the church) that is different to that of those who are in the full-time employ of the church that exists because of that difference?"

A couple of clarifications here:

1. there's a big (and fascinating) question that's not unrelated about the nature of the ministry of those who are not ordained. I'm going to duck this question because I don't want to be diverted from this question, and not because I don't think it's important. Maybe another time.
2. although I've not been entirely clear above, what I'm really talking about is those who not "full-time" clergy: they have other responsibilities and activities which take up much of their time.

The Church of England has been part-addressing this question for over 40 years now, with NSMs and, more recently, the renamed SSMs. The view is that our ministry is equally valid as those who work full-time for the church. This doesn't mean that it's always easy to get this right, nor for everyone (lay or ordained) to appreciate it all the time, but that's the official story.

I think there's a problem with it, however - not with the answer, which I believe to be right - but in the theology that supports it. First let me note that I very much like the theory of ministry presented by Steven Croft in Ministry in Three Dimensions: A Theological Foundation for Local Church Leadership. The fundamental basis for his argument is that all ordained ministry is based on three qualities: diakonos (loosely: service), presbyteros (loosely: leadership) and episkope (loosely: oversight). That these three qualities provide the basis for the three generally accepted ordained orders (deacon, priest (or presbyters) and bishops (episcopals)) is no surprise, and acts as the starting point for his argument. But he is keen to point out that members of each order must possess each of the three qualities, though the amount to which they will be required will vary from person to person, from role to role, and from situation to situation - and through time. I don't think that this is particularly contentious theology, and I've certainly found it very helpful in my journey through discernment, to ordination, through my deacon's year, and in preparing for my ordination to the priesthood in June, God willing.

Being a bishop

But it raises a question: a big one, I think. "Is there something ontologically incompatible about being a bishop, and not full-time clergy?" Admittedly, as the role of bishop is currently figured, there is a great deal of time required for administration, visiting, etc. - and that's part of the oversight. But is that what oversight _needs_ to be about? And surely we should be figuring the bishop's role from first principles, rather than making the role fit what the job has become over the centuries? Why does this matter? Well, it doesn't matter to me - certainly at the moment! - in terms of preferment: I'm not even a priest yet, and thoughts of bishoprics are rather far off, and would be even if I were full-time. There are questions about how easy it is to become a bishop if one has not been a full-time priest, though: how can one "serve one's time" and move up the greasy pole? Well, _why_ should that be required? There are enough examples of brilliant bishops - and archbishops - who moved very quickly into their posts, without all the kerfuffle of parish incumbencies, becoming an archdeacon, a canon, a dean, etc.. And why do the diakonos, presbyteros and episkope exercised by those not in the church full-time not "count" towards the criteria required to become a bishop? Well, they're beginning to, I hope.

But there's something deeper going on here: something more ontological. If the church is not ready to accept that someone who is not full-time can enter the order whose defining characteristic is episkope - oversight - and become a bishop, then that casts grave doubts over the legitimacy of the episkope that is exercised by all those in the _other_ orders who are, likewise, not full-time. How can we figure a legitimate, and fully accepted diaconate and priesthood? To be clear, what I'm saying is that it is difficult to base an ontological understanding of the theology of the orders of the diaconate and the priesthood if there is no corresponding ontological understanding for the episcopal order.

Gender

So far, this entry - or essay - has been about the issue of employment, but the more I thought about the issues being discussed, the more I realised that we can't ignore the issue of gender. In the Church of England, we have not only no self-supporting ministers who are bishops - that is, no self-supporting bishops - but we also have no women ministers who are bishops: we have no woman bishops. Now, many self-supporting ministers - including me - maintain the option to move to full-time ministry. Although the nature of our role as ministers seems somewhat compromised by what comes down to our employment status - if you accept the argument presented above - we have the option to change that.

The same does not follow for women: the nature of the ontological problematic for them is more fundamental. For there is a corresponding problem about the legitimacy of woman deacons and woman priests if there are no woman bishops: the correspondence seems very close. Some members of the Church of England will accept that women can be priests and deacons, but cannot exercise "headship" (for which we can probably fairly safely substitute our word "episkope"), and therefore cannot become bishops. Others will not accept women and priests, but will accept them as deacons, whereas some will not accept them in any of the ordained orders. Given the argument above, I would argue that only the last set holds a consistent position, but a good deal of the work being done with regard to finding a settlement around the issue of woman bishops in the Church of England seems to centre around the group that will accept deacons and priests, but not bishops.

My view - and it's a strong one - is that the ministry of women is entirely legitimate, and I have no problems whatsoever with the ontological basis for it. More important, I don't believe that the lack of any woman bishops impacts on that legitimacy. However, the lack of the capability for there to be a woman bishop _does_ impact on the continued legitimacy of the ministry of women in the Church of England. Until we, as a church, can overcome this problem, ontological problems will remain, and will continue to allow doubts to remain about legitimacy.

A brief conclusion

I have no conclusion to offer, really, beyond to ask for more theological discussion around the ontology of ministry. We've avoided the question of non-ordained ministry, but even with a restricted scope, have identified what I believe to be two major - and growing - issues for ministry within the Church of England and the Anglican church as a whole. Part of the question, of course, revolves whether we accept in detail Croft's view of ministry in 3 dimensions, but whether we do or not, in the Anglican church we consider that there is a coherence between the 3 orders of ministry. This, then, casts concerns over how legitimate the church considers the ministry of self-supporting and woman ministers to be. I would stress that it does not matter whether this consideration is explicit or not: what matters is if the theology around which the ontology of ministry is based is coherent, and whether it introduces concerns over legitimacy.

Labels: church, ministry, theology, women

Anglicans and authority: William Beveridge

Although written around 1699, the first (incomplete) version of Discourse upon The Thirty-Nine Articles wasn't published until 1716, and this (complete) edition in 1840: Beveridge, William (1840) Ecclesia Anglicana Ecclesia Catholica or, The Doctrine of the Church of England consonant to Scripture, Reason and Fathers: in A Discourse upon The Thirty-Nine Articles agreed upon In The Convocation Held at London MDLXII, Oxford University Press, Oxford. (A bit of a mouthful!).

The clue here is very much in the title: it's about combining Scripture, Reason and the Church Fathers. There is a very strong argument from reason, and an enormous amount of footnoting in Greek, Latin Syriac and other languages. It's a work of considerable scholarship, though I think that much of the evidence presented would these days be felt to be weak, and sometimes misused. The care that is used, and the style of argument, can be seen in these excerpts from Article 6 (On the sufficiency of the Holy Scriptures for Salvation):

Thus we can see how careful the Fathers are to bring the canonical books into the scriptures, and truly they are as careful to keep the Apocryphal out. They acknowledge them, indeed, lawful to be read as we do, but not of the same authority with the former. (Beveridge, p. 286)

And thus we see how clear and express the Fathers are, not only in determining the same number of canonical books that is in this Article determined, but also in passing their judgment upon the Apocryphal books as this Article doth. Even that though the church reads them "for example of life, and instruction of manners," yet it doth not "apply them to establish any doctrine."

On a sidenote, the copy of the book that I borrowed from the relevant library seems to have been printed in 1840, had no other names in the borrowing list (it looks like it was acquired from the Lightfoot Library in 1977), and a good number of the pages had never been cut. Not a very popular book! That neither volume was fully cut means that I've not had a good chance to read it, and this is something I want to remedy. in particular, Articles 20 ("Of the Authority of the Church") and 21 ("Of the Authority of General Councils") deserve more attention than I could give them (as I couldn't actually open most of the pages...)

Labels: authority, theology

Anglicans and authority: John Jewel

The second piece of reading that I've done, and really very much enjoyed, is Archbishop Jewel: Jewel, John (1564) The Apology of The Church of England, trans. Bacon, Anne, ed. Jelf, Richard W. (1852), Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London. This book is in and of itself a jewel, and full of some fantastic theology and statements about the Church of England. Jewel, writing earlier than Hooker, is mainly concerned with defending the Church of England against the Church of Rome. A central statement of his position is this (Jewel, p. 21):

Furthermore, we believe, that there be divers degrees of ministers in the church: whereof some be deacons, some priests, some bishops: to whom is committed the office to instruct the people, and the whole charge and setting forth of religion. Yet notwithstanding, we say that there neither is, nor can be any one man, which may have the whole superiority in this universal state: for that Christ is ever present to assist his church, and needeth not any man to supply his room, as his only heir to all his substance: and that there can be no one mortal creature, which is able to comprehend or conceive in his mind the universal church, that is to wit, all the parts of the world, much less able rightly and duly to put them in order, and to govern them rightly and duly.

Here, Jewel is arguing against the claims of the Pope. A little later, he comes up with a brilliant argument against the supposed authority of the Roman Church over men's souls, which, though long, is worth quoting in full (Jewel, pp. 23-26):

Moreover we say that Christ hath given to his ministers power to bind, to loose, to open, to shut. And that the office of loosing consisteth in this point: that the minister should either offer by preaching of the gospel the merits of Christ, and full partdon to such as have lowly and contrite hearts, and do unfeignedly repent themselves, pronouncing unto the same a sure and undoubted forgiveness of their sins, and hope of everlasting salvation: or else that the same minister, when any have offended their brothers' minds with a great offence, with a notable and open fault, whereby they have, as it were, banished and made themselves strangers against the common fellowship, and from the body of Christ, then after perfect amendment of such persons, doth reconcile them, and bring them home again, and restore them to the company and unity of the faithful. We say also, that the minister doth execute the authority of binding and shutting, as often as he shutteth up the gate of the kingdom of heaven against the unbelieving and stubborn persons, denouncing unto them God's vengeance, and everlasting punishment: or else, when he doth quite shut them out from the bosom of the church by open excommunication. Out of doubt, what sentence soever the minister of God shall give in this sort, God himself doth so well allow of it, that whatsoever here in earth by their means is loosed and bound, God himself will loose and bind, and confirm in heaven.

And touching the keys, wherewith they may either shut or open the kingdom of heaven, we with Chrysostom say, "They be the knowledge of the scriptures:" with Tertullian we say, "They be the interpretation of the law:" and with Eusebius we call them, "The word of God."

Moreover that Christ's disciples did receive this authority, not that they should hear the private confessions of the people, and listen to their whisperings, as the common massing-priests do every where now-a-days, and do it so, as though in that one point lay all the virtue and use of the keys: but to the end they should go, they should teach, they should publish abroad the gospel, and be unto the believing a sweet savour of life unto life, and unto the unbelieving and unfaithful a savour of death unto death: and that the minds of godly persons being brought low by the remorse of their former life and errors, after they once began to look up unto the light of the gospel, and believe in Christ, might be opened with the word of God, even as a door is opened with a key. Contrariwise, that the wicked and wilful folk, and such as would not believe, nor return to the right way, should be left still as fast locked, and shut up, and, as St. Paul saith, "wax worse and worse." This take we to be the meaning of the keys: and that after this sort men's consciences either be opened or shut. We say, that the priest indeed is a judge in this case, but yet hath no manner of right to challenge an authority, or power, as saith Ambrose. And therefore our Saviour Jesu Christ, to reprove the negligence of the Scribes and Pharisees in teaching, did with those words rebuke them, saying: "Woe be unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, which have taken away the keys of knowledge, and have shut up the kingdom of heaven before men." Seeing then the key whereby the way and entry to the kingdom of God is opened unto us, is the word of the gospel, and the expounding of the law and scriptures, we say plainly, where the same words is not, there is not the key. And seeing one manner of word is given to all, and one only key belongeth to all, we say, that there is but one only power of all ministers, as concerning opening and shutting. And as touching the bishop of Rome, for all his parasites sate, and ringly sing these words in his ears, "To thee will I give the keys of the kingdom of heaven, " (as though those keys were fit for him alone, and for nobody else,) except he go so to work, as men's consciences may be made plaint, and be subdued to the word of God, we deny that he doth either open, or shut, or hath the keys at all. And although he taught and instructed the people, (as would God he might once truly do, an persuade himself it were at the least some piece of duty,) yet we think his key to be never a whit better, or of greater force than other men's. For who hath severed him from the rest? Who hath taught him more cunningly to open, or better to absolve than his brethren?

A long section, indeed, but it sums up rather well Jewel's theology, I think. For him, the Word is paramount, and the Church of Rome has tried to claim far too much authority. He is again attacking those of the Church of Rome when he writes:

Therefore the holy scriptures, which our Saviour Jesus Christ did not only use for authority in all his speech, but did also at last seal up the same with his own blood, these men, to the intent that they might with less business drive the people from the same, as from a thing dangerous and deadly, have used to call them a bare letter, uncertain, unprofitable, dumb, killing, and dead: which seemeth to us all one as if they should say, "The scriptures are to no purpose, or as good as none."

Jewel, at the end of the book, shows an interesting side to the argument. He's not necessarily suggesting that the Church of England has everything right, but he feels that the Church of Rome has moved away from God (Jewel, pp. 154-155):

Wherefore if the pope will have us be reconciled to him, his duty is first to be reconciled to God. For from thence, saith Cyprian, spring schisms and sects, because men seek not the head, and have not their recourse to the fountain (of the scriptures), and keep not the rules given by the heavenly teacher. For, saith he, that is not peace, but war; neither is he joined unto the church, which is severed from the gospel. As for these men, they use to make a merchandise of the name of peace. For that peace which they fain would have, is only a rest of idle bellies. They and we might easily be brought to atonement, touching all these matter, were it not that ambition, and gluttony, and excess did let it. Hence cometh their whining, their heart is on their halfpenny. Out of doubt their clamours and stirs be to none other end, but to maintain more shamefully and naughtily ill-gotten things.

Jewel's position (which does sometimes fall into the invective), then, is that the Church of Rome has moved away from the true church, and holds on to its position of error partly - or largely - through the corruption of the Pope. It is _we_ who are Catholics he says, in yet another piece of brilliant theology (Jewel, pp. 16-17):

Wherefore, if we be heretics and they (as they would fain be called) be catholics, why do they not, as they see the fathers, which were catholic men, have always done? Why do they not convince and master us by the divine scriptures? Why do they not call us again to be tried by them? Why do they not lay before us, how we have gone away from Christ, from the prophets, from the apostles, and from the holy fathers? Why stick they to do it? Why are they afraid of it? It is God's cause. Why are they doubtful to commit it to the trial of God's word? If we be heretics, which refer all our controversies unto the holy Scriptures, and report us to the self-same words which we know were sealed by God himself, and in comparison of them set little by all other things, whatsoever may be devised by men; how shall we say to these folk, I pray you, what manner of men be they, and how is it meet to call them, which feat the judgment of the holy scriptures, that is to say, the judgment of God himself, and do prefer before them their own dreams, and full cold inventions: and, to maintain their own traditions, have defaced and corrupted, now these many hundred years, the ordinances of Christ and of the apostles?

Jewel sees himself as a reformer: someone who is trying to re-form the church into what it once was: a body built on the word of God, and informed by that above all things. It is writing such as this, with its rhetoric and theology, that convinces me that I am, in many things, a Protestant - and a Reformation Protestant, at that.

Labels: authority, faith, PhD, protestantism, theology

Anglicans and authority: Richard Hooker

For a while, now, I've been doing some preparation work for a possible PhD around Anglican understandings of authority. This has involved a bunch of reading, and I've really enjoyed it. What I've started with has been some reading of the early theologians of the Church of England. I thought I'd record some of the reading I've been doing, as if all goes well, I'll need to be coming back to my thoughts.

The first piece of reading I did was some Richard Hooker, one of the Church of England's great theologians: Hooker, Richard (1593) The Folger Library Edition of The Works of Richard Hooker, Vol. 1: Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, ed. Speed Hill, W., Belknap Press, Cambridge, Mass.. Best is probably to set out some of the chapter synopsis provided by Hooker for his first book (Hooker, pp. 55-56):

9 Of the benefit of keeping that lawe which reason teacheth.

10 How reason doth leade men unto the making of humane lawe, whereby politique societies are governed, and to agreement about lawes whereby the fellowship or communion of independent societies standeth.

11 Wherefore God hath by scripture further made knowne such supernaturall lawes as doe serve for mens direction.

12 The cause why so manie naturall and rationall lawes are set downe in holie scripture.

13 The benefit of having divine lawes written.

14 The sufficiencie of scripture unto the end for which it was instituted.

15 Of lawes positive conteined in scripture, the mutabilitie of certaine of them, and the generall use of scripture.

16 A conclusion, shewing how all this belongeth to the cause in question.

From chapter 16, we have (Hooker, pp. 138-139): "In reasonable and morall actions another law taketh place, a law by the observation whereof we glorifie God in such sort, as no creature els under man is able to doe, because other creatures have not judgement to examine the quality of that which is done to them, and therfore in that they doe, they neyther can accuse or approve themselves. Men do both, as the Apostle teacheth, yea, those men which have no written lawe of God to show what is good and evill, carrie written in their hearts the universall law of mankind, the law of reason, whereby they judge as by a rule which God hath given unto all men for that purpose." He's keen on the importance of natural law, clearly. Slightly further on, he is talking about the importance of laws within nations - and between nations (Hooker, p. 56): "The publique power of all societies is above every soule contayned in the same societies. ... [E]xcept our owne private, and but probably resolutions be by the lawe of publique determinations overruled, we take away all possibilitie of sociable life in the worlde. A plainer example whereof then our selves we cannot have. How commeth it to passe that we are at this present day so rent with mutuall contentions, and that the Church is so much troubled about the Politie of the Church? No doubt if men had beene willing to learne how many lawes their actions in this life are subject unto, and what the true force of ech law is, all these controversies might have dyed the very day they were first brought forth." Hooker is writing not just about the contentions between the Church of England and the Roman Catholic Church, but also about issues within the Church of England, where he was battling against Puritan elements.

In the second book, he is arguing against those who "urge reformation in the Church of England: Namely That Scripture is the onely rule of all things which in this life may be done by men." He wants to show that God's rules come from beyond solely scriptural teaching (Hooker, p. 147-8): "To teach men therfore wisedome professeth, and to teach them every good way: but not every good way by one way of teaching. Whatsoever either men on earth, or the Angels of heaven do know, it is as a drop of that unemptiable fountaine of wisdom, which wisdom hath diversly imparted her treasures unto the world. As her waies are of sundry kinds, so her maner of teaching is not meerely one and the same. Some things she openeth by the sacred bookes of Scriture, some things by the glorious works of nature: with some things she inspireth them from above by spirituall influence, in some thinges she leadeth and trayneth them onely by worldly experience and practice. We may not so in any one speciall kind admire her that we disgrace her in any other, but let all her wayes be according unto their place and degree adored."

There are some interesting issues raised in chapter 6:

Our question is, whether all be sinne which is done without direction of scripture ...? (p. 169)

For in truth the question is not, whether an argument from scripture negatively may be good, but whether it be so generally good, that in all actions men may urge it. The Fathers I graunt do use verie generall and large tearmes, even as Hiero the King did in speaking of Archimedes, From hence forward whatsoever Archimedes speaketh, it must be believed. His meaning was not that Archimedes could simply in nothing be deceyved, but that he had in such sort approved his skill, that he seemed worthie of credit for ever after in matters appertaining unto the science he was skilfull in. ... Let any man therefore that caryeth indifferencie of judgement, persuse the Bishops [the Bishop of Salisbury's] speeches, and consider well of those negatives concerning the scripture, which he produceth out of Iran&aedigraph;us, Chrisostome, and Leo ... They mention no restraint in the one then in the other. ... (pp. 173-174)

In chapter 8, he helpfully (for our purposes, at least), lays out two contrary positions:

Two opinions therefore there are concerning sufficiencie of holy scripture, each extremely opposite unto the other, and both repugnant unto truth. The schooles of Rome teach scripture to be so unsufficient, as if, except traditions were added, it did not conteine all revealed and supernaturall truth, which absolutely is necessarie for the children of men in this life to know that they may in the next be saved. Others justly condemning this opinion growe likewise unto a daungerous extremitie, as if scripture did not onely containe all thinges in that kinde necessary, but al thinges simply, and in such sorte that to doe any thing according to any other lawe were not onely unnecessary, but even the opposite unto salvation, unlawfull and sinfull. Whatsoever is spoken of God or thinges appertaining to God otherwise then as the truth is; though it seeme an honour, it is an injurie. ... [W]e must ... take great heede, lest in attributing unto scripture more then it can have, the incredibillitie of that do cause even those things which indeed it hath most abundantly to be lesse reverendly esteemed. (Hooker, pp. 191-192)

The third book is "Concerning their second assertion, that in Scripture there must be of necessitie contained a forme of Church-politie the lawes whereof may in no wise be altered." It's fairly clear from the arguments above that Hooker looks beyond Scripture for rules - and rules are very important here, as he's writing around the time where Puritans are arguing that the nation should be ruled according to their views - based, they argue, on Scripture - and that the Church should also be separated from the state's tradition exertion of authority. Hooker, who wishes to keep the church as an Established church, is arguing against this strongly.

Labels: authority, PhD, theology

More veneration (or not)

So, thanks to everyone who responded to yesterday's post: I really appreciate the thought that people have clearly put into the comments. I've done some more thinking since yesterday, and the best way to explain some of that thought is to respond to some of your comments.

James wrote: "When you did so [kneeling to lead prayers], you did it in front of the Altar, not because you were worshipping the wooden table, but because it was an appropriate focus for your worship of God."

I find this interesting, because it's not why I did it at all. I knelt because I thought it was important to lead the congregation from a kneeling position, and I did it in front of the altar not because I saw it as an appropriate focus for my worship of God, but because if I'd knelt anywhere else, I would have been either hidden from view (by the altar) or separated physically from the congregation.

I can see why you thought I knelt there, and I wonder whether other people thought the same. It doesn't bother me that they might, but it's not why I did it.

Gary wrote: "Since the holy sacrament is the body and blood of our Lord, by definition we can (and should) pay reverence to it."

I disagree. I think that we should treat it with respect, and possibly lean towards showing reverence towards it (to employ James' original definition at face value), but I think that they word "pay" is a give-away here. Reverence, in practice, isn't as clear-cut as the definition seems to suggest. The cross is an object to which we do not owe anything. We only owe anything to God, not to physical objects.

The only exception might be the physical body of Christ, incarnated as a man, though he seems to have been pretty cagey about being treated specially, with the exception of washing and baptism, which are both actions which are extended to other people, too.

That said, I realise that I'm somewhat conflicted about this: I treat the physical book which comprises Bible, at least within a worship setting, with great respect - almost as much as the sacrament. I think this, however, is because or the importance I attach to the Word (which is contained within the Bible and which the Lord's Body in the sacrament is, of course). This is a pretty protestant position, I'd argue.

Sam talked about using icons as an aid to worship, and pointed to a useful blog entry about Corpus Christi.

I agree on this: and we have a set of Stations of the Cross in our church. My father's very attached to various sets that he knows or has, and I find some of the images helpful for meditation and prayer. I'm not, however, attached to the Stations of the Cross as a specific thing, in the same way that I've used prayer beads in the past, but am not attached to them as a specific process or requirement.

I genearally agree with the post about Corpus Christi, and I like the way Sam discussed the shift in emphasis of the phrase "corpus verum".

Sally bemoaned the lack of symbol in her tradition.

I find symbology very useful, too, and wouldn't want to lose it. It's when the symbols are used as more than that that I get unhappy, because I see this as a move to sacramentalism: moving beyond the sacraments to regarding objects as having a sacramental power. The reason, I think, that the bread and wine are special is that, as part of a sacrament, they are the body and blood our Our Lord. The Bible is special (and I still find it difficult to see people writing on a Bible!) because it's the Word: God's working in this world through the agency of the Holy Spirit.

KT suggested talking to the PCC.

I don't think this is needed, to be honest. I'm not worried about the legality of the service at all, and have already discussed my concerns about confession and absolution to my training incumbent (I'm in the first year of my title post, and not yet priested!), who was very supportive.

Neither am I worried about the service itself for general consumption (James has dealt very helpfully with the particular phrase that I picked up, and I acknowledge that his introduction is a good piece of guidance to the congregation), but what I'm trying to explore is how elements of the service - and, in many ways, the core assumption (now, _there's_ a word to reflect on...!) behind the service just doesn't fit with my theology. (I'd be interested to hear your situation, by the way, KT, if you'd like to share).

I rather hope that this isn't the end of it. I'm really enjoying this discussion with you all, and making myself think. This, for me, is Reflective Theology (cue Gary turning up in a day-glo jacket), and is a Good Thing[tm]. I'm not trying to inflict my theology on other people (yet...), but I'm interested to see where I'm being led with this, and it's to a re-affirmation of the protestant underpinnings of my theology and my faith. May the Holy Spirit guide us all.

Labels: liturgy, protestantism, theology, worship

To venerate or not to venerate: that is the question

On Good Friday, we have a service entitled "Veneration of the Cross and Liturgy of the Passion". This is taken from Common Worship's Good Friday Liturgy (though the service isn't called that in the relevant booklet), and includes this as part of the introduction (also not part of the booklet):

During this service a crucifix is brought into the Church and we all have the opportunity to come forward in prayer and adoration. As the crucifix is brought in we proclaim "This is the wood of the cross" remembering that our crucifix is a spiritual help in contemplating the Cross of Christ. As we come forward we gently kiss the feet of our Lord and Saviour, or bow our heads, and give thanks for the tremendous gift of Christ who shared our humanity and suffered with and for us.

The service uses the reserved sacrament, rather than consecrating on Good Friday: a practice which is traditional, and which I quite like (although I've previously enjoyed an ante-communion, where we start a service, and then finish it abruptly just before the eucharistic prayer).

Unluckily, I have some major problems with the service theologically. The first two are easily dealt with: there is no confession or absolution before receiving of the sacrament. I'm very unhappy about this, but we're going to have a hymn with a confessional element, and I think we'll put in an absolution.

The third issue is a more major one for me. I'm unhappy about the veneration of the cross. To me, it feels like idolatry. I know I'm coming over all Protestant on this, but I think this is an extension of one of my first major theological feelings, when I was very uncomfortable about a Roman Catholic service I once attended of Corpus Christi, where the host was processed - paraded - around the cathedral. A clergy friend of mine (from a more catholic tradition than mine) notes that:

[t]he first dictionary definition [of "veneration"] says "a feeling of profound respect for someone or something". Surely we can have profound respect for the representation of the cross because of what it represents.

First of all, I not sure that I agree with the definition, and secondly, I'm not sure that we can. How can you have respect for something, rather than somebody? He also makes a comparison with a picture of somebody, to which we might be attached, and compare it with a representation of a cross, to which we might be attached. But I don't think I can be attached to the cross, although I feel strongly that it's a powerful symbol and reminder of the person who died on it and who I worship. I think that part of my concern arises from part of the liturgy:

This is the wood of the cross, on which hung the saviour of the world.

All come, let us worship.

Now, maybe I'm being too critical, but it's not clear to me what the object of our worship is supposed to be. The obvious answer is that it's supposed to be the the subject of the preceding sentence: "the wood of the cross". I think that's a legitimate reading of the text, and if someone were to come to it with an unnuanced theology, then I think that might be what they thought was going on. And I don't believe that we should hold a cross as worthy of worship. Or any other object. Or anything other than God - the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, three in one and one in three.

The veneration of the cross is an old tradition - and a catholic one. There's nothing wrong with that, but I feel that the liturgy that's been put together within Common Worship goes too far towards what I believe are the errors of (certain types of) (mainly Roman) Catholic practice.

I know that I'm in danger of condemning practices which are very helpful for many people, and I'd stress that I enjoy ceremony and tradition and liturgy in many instances. But this feels like a step a little too far for me. It's made me think hard about other aspects of my worship - receiving a blessing before the Gospel reading (is it the book that's being blessed, or the reader and the reading?), kissing my stole before putting it on (is this to allow me to reflect on the responsibility I am taking on, or veneration of an object?) - but I think that's a good thing. In many ways, I'm a reformation protestant - or Reformation Protestant - but I need to understand how (and whether) that can be reconciled with more recent theological insights.

I see all of this as part of my growth and development as a minister: I appreciate comments and thoughts. And prayers, of course.

Labels: catholicism, liturgy, theology

Preaching against creationism and so-called "Intelligent Design"

Well, I've got people clamouring on Facebook to find out what I preached on. I they don't seem that interested in other issues, so I probably shouldn't talk about taking the girls swimming to Halstead pool, or how it was Miri who was a pain to get to sleep tonight, but it was Moo who ended up putting her to bed.

Well, I preached on the theory of evolution. I started by introducing Charles Darwin as a fervent abolitionist and also an agnostic, and then talked about how he wrote a book which many Christians have had problems with, but which has lots of mistakes in it. I then introduced the Bible, in particular the Book of Genesis, with which it is often compared. I then explained how although Darwin got quite a few things wrong, the theory that he came up with has stood the test of time, and has turned out to be very resilient. How could you expect him to get it all right when he didn't have all the benefits of modern genetics, or the evidence that people have been gathering to refine the theory over the 150 odd years since he published "Origin of the Species"? The theory of evolution is a strong, resilient theory which has been shown to be usable to make predictions, and which is almost universally accepted by the scientific community worldwide.

What about the Bible, and the account of creation in Genesis? First of all, I believe that it's fantastic poetry, but I don't read Hebrew at all, so I couldn't tell. Second, it's a description aimed at people who lived 3, maybe 4 thousand years ago. And third, it's not science, and neither was it ever meant to be. The idea of science as, well, a "thing", a "discipline", even an idea is completely alien to the Old Testament (well, the New Testament as well): this is not a scientific account, but an attempt to explain how God's love moved into our world through creation.

I then went on to explain that creationists, and those who espouse so-called "Intelligent Design", rather annoy me, because at least part of my background is as a scientist. The theory of evolution has passed the test of time and the scientific community: why are we worried by this, when the alleged "alternative" account was never meant to fulfill the same role at all? And more than that, the God who _I_ believe in is greater than the one they seem to believe in. The God I believe in can work through evolution, through the theories of Newton and Einstein, and isn't worried that we'll work out how the world works: creation, and His acting through it, is the out-working of his love, and this God is not so weak that He has to tweak evolution from time to time in order to make, for instance, the eye. I think that's poor theology, let alone poor science.

So, that's my sermon, give or take. I gave it twice - once at the 0800, and once at the 1000. Slightly different each time, as I wasn't using notes - and I got positive feedback both times. People _want_ to hear about these things, and as it's so rarely the liberal view which is expounded with any passion, hopefully I'm redressing the balance somewhat.

Labels: preaching, science, theology

Theology

I'm reading some de Lubac, a Catholic theologian from the the 20th century. I'm really enjoying doing some proper theological thinking again: academic theology, that is. I wouldn't in any way suggest that practical theology isn't proper, but I really enjoy the particular requirements posed by academic theology. I was suggested his book "Catholicism", which I'm reading alongside a commentary on his life and work by David Grumett, which seems interesting so far. So far, I like de Lubac's insistence on the importance of the body of the Church - its catholic nature - but am less happy about the assumption - explicit at some points, it seems, though I'm only part-way into the book - that it is the Roman Catholic church which makes up the true body of Christ, as schism from Rome puts one outside it. I need to read more, as I may be being a little harsh on the book, and I understand how much he dislikes what he sees as a Protestant preoccupation with personal salvation.

I'm reading this as part of a project looking into issues of authority and the Anglican church, and it's interesting to see how it relates. I'm not sure where I'm going with it yet, but will try to keep blogging on the issue.

I managed my second baptism today, and managed not to forget the child's name this time round. I really enjoy baptisms, and look forward to doing more. Moo managed to put a hole in one of her tyres today, which annoyed her, but it's one of those things. She's also trying to finish an essay, so this afternoon I took the girls to the Giggle Factory in Sudbury. Two very tired girls by bedtime...

Labels: baptism, theology

The Book of Job

As I've mentioned in previous posts, an atheist friend and I are having a fascinating conversation about faith, which I hope to blog in time. I'm not ready to do that yet, but she asked me a particular question in a side-thread, and I think it's interesting enough to post here, as well as being separate from the main thread. It's an interesting question to be answering, and any comments on how I did it are very welcome!

The question

OK - one of the only times god actually talks to a human? These events are few and far between..........and what does he say?

Actually, rewind a bit. The whole book resembles Trading Places, god and the devil in a nice gentlemens' club - "And where have you been?" says god, "Oh down on earth, doing stuff" says satan, or as the James version has it:
And the LORD said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

I am sure I am not the only one who reads the subtext "unlike you!".

Then Job gets given a hard time, for no reason?

Then at the end they finally have a chat. And god just goes on and on about what he has done. Not terribly inspiring?

What's your take on it?

I am genuinely interested.

The answer

Done some reading to remind myself: never did much on the Book of Job. Anyway, it's part of what's known as the Wisdom literature in the Bible, along with several other books, of which the best known are probably Proverbs and Ecclesiastes (best known for the song "Turn, turn, turn", which quotes it). There's wisdom literature known from other cultures of the period and area, but the Bible (oddly enough!) is the best known of the set.

The first point to note is that there's a particular type of writing used for Wisdom literature (or, to be more accurate, various types: various forms, to use the standard terminology). Think socratic dialogue, Greek drama, Elizabethan sonnets or experiment write-up: there are standard ways of putting these things together, and the interventions of the "3 friends" is one of those.

In fact, I'm quite chuffed with my choice of socratic dialogue as an example, because I don't think that many people think that the original Socratic dialogues actually record real conversations by Socrates. The same goes for the Wisdom literature: it was a way of putting information across to the next generation(s), through a recognisable story in a recognisable structure.

Now, I'm not saying that there aren't people whose experience of communication with God isn't that He/She speaks directly to them, though it's not mine.

So, I guess that part of the wisdom that's being imparted is that Satan is all around us, ready to trip us up, but that if we continue resolute and trust in God, we will be rewarded in time.

Part of the problem is that critical reading of the Bible, though not rare, is not what gets the press externally. It's the fundamentalists, who pretend that they read the Bible "as is" (you can't: you always bring preconceptions to all texts) who get the press, so that's who many atheists think they're up against (and who R. Dawkins, Esq. tends to engage with, to the exasperation of many of the rest of us).

I hope this doesn't sound like I've ducked or side-stepped the question. It's also worth pointing out that there are many books (and parts of books) in the Bible, about which there is great academic disagreement. For instance, it seems unlikely that the story of the woman caught in adultery, told in John's gospel (the "let whoever is without sin cast the first stone" story), was in the original text, but it seems to have been added very early on in the history of the text, and to be consonant with the values of the community using it, so it tends to be an accepted part of the Canon. Oh, and don't let anyone fool you into even thinking that we (Christians) all agree on what the Bible should look like in terms of which books are in it, let alone on translation. It's all sort of fun. Really: I love this stuff!

Labels: apologetics, bible, theology

Last sermon

Today I preached my last sermon to my current benefice, in Little Yeldham. Keith, my incumbent, had asked me where I'd like to preach this last sermon before my ordination, and I'd chosen Little Yeldham as I know and like the people, and feel at home there. It was also an opportunity to preach with Keith taking the service, as often I've been taking the services at which I've been preaching. I preached on eschatology, and how we can move from a partly realised eschatology to a realistic, realisable future eschatology throughan undestanding of he perichoretic opportunities of friendship. This sounds complicated, I guess, but it really isn't: it's about understanding that although Christ's life, death and resurrection began to usher in the Kingdom of God, the world we live in is still very broken, and we're a long way from the Kingdom right now. How can we work towards it? By realising that it's not just an individual thing, and that when Christ called his disciples friends, he called us all to a friendship which can hopefully make us more mature, as individuals and a community.

The scary thing? I'm due to be ordained this month.

Labels: preaching, theology

Synchroblog - Christianity and Social Justice

Anyone who wonders whether social justice should be on the agenda has, for me, to read the Gospel according to Luke. The Jesus - the Christ - we see there is intimately concerned with social justice of all types. But it's not that simple. There are some - particularly those labelled in North America as the "Christian Right" who don't have much time for social issues, or environmental issues. This is a generalisation, of course, but there is a movement which takes the view that the Kingdom of God is promised to us, and that it will come whatever we do, so we need to herald that, rather than work for it in terms of what we do. We are - in these terms - the Elect, and we just need to witness to that. This is the sort of theology which comes up with the seriously confused reading of the Bible leading to the "Rapture".

I disagree strongly with this sort of theology. The problem I have is that it's a completely future view of eschatology. Eschatology is sometimes called "the theology of the final things", and traditionally deals with resurrection, judgement, heaven and hell. Another way of looking at it is what is the Kingdom of God? Is it fully realised? That is - is it now, complete, but just restricted to God's chosen few? Are only those who profess the _right_ creed the ones who are enjoying the Kingdom of God here on Earth? I just can't stomach that.

The opposite view is the one that I've outlined. And both of them can lead to a refusal to engage with issues of social justice - and other issues around God's Creation. This seems so wrong to me. Just following Jesus' example means that we have to engage. We have to listen and to love.

I know that I've not really addressed any particular issues, but I think it's important to make the case for Christians having a responsibility to engage.

Synchroblog

Synchroblog Synchroblog Today is a "synchroblog" on the subject of "Christianity and social justice". If you've liked what you read here, or, more particularly, if you didn't, and you'd like to read some other opinions, please visit one of the other participating blogs:

• Mike Bursell at Mike's Musings
• Phil Wyman at Square No More - Salem: No Place for Hating Witches
• Bryan Riley at at Charis Shalom Steve Hayes writes about Khanya: Christianity and social justice
• Reba Baskett at In Reba's World
• Prof Carlos Z. with Ramblings from a Sociologist
• Cobus van Wyngaard at My Contemplations: David Bosch, Public Theology, Social Justic
• Cindy Harvey at Tracking the Edge
• Alan Knox at The Assembling of the Church
• Matthew Stone at Matt Stone Journeys in Between
• John Smulo at JohnSmulo.com
• Sonja Andrews at Calacirian
• Lainie Petersen at Headspace
• KW Leslie: Shine: not let it shine
• Stephanie Moulton at Faith and the Environment Collide
• Julie Clawson at One Hand Clapping
• Steve Hollinghurst at On Earth as in Heaven
• Sam Norton at Elizaphanian: Tesco is a Big Red Herring

Labels: synchroblog, theology

What a day!

A day when things took a long time to go well. When I tell you that I was ringing colleagues in Canada at 0400 their time, you might get an idea of how things went. But we got there in the end: all was working by the time I walked out of the door around 1745, and the customer was very happy.

Finished reading Marriage after Modernity by Adrian Thatcher. Very interesting. He makes a case for marriage being special - or different, maybe - because it's child-centred. He's very positive about other models, but suggests that this is the over-riding difference. What I like is that he's ontological about it, rather than teleological: you don't _have_ to have reproduction as the aim of a marriage, but that's more than often what it ends up being about, and it's the relationship type where it's most central. Interesting.

Labels: children, family, theology, work

Sermon

I'm not going to be preaching it until at least the beginning of July, but I'm beginning to worry, already, about my first sermon as a deacon. This is silly, I realise, but that's just running round my head. Do you preach to the lectionary (something I'm not overly given to), or to the season, or to recent events, or speak about myself, or curacy, or the diaconate? I literally have no idea. And it's obviously, obviously too early to think about it.

I'm currently going through the "why isn't everybody else so enthusiastic about the Gospel, then?" phase. This, I'm given understand, is typical of nearly-deaconed ordinands. Expecting to enthuse everybody else is a dangerous fallacy, and I'm glad, at least, that I've seen it. And enthusiasm is good. But needs watching.

Now Moo's not well. Hope she gets better soon. I've done a part dog-poo clearance, and 90% of the ironing (ran out of coat-hangers), and cooked supper. And spent around an hour getting Jo to sleep. But I hate it when Moo's ill. Particularly as it's partly due to overwork.

Labels: diaconate, ordination, sermon, theology

SecondLife

Beginning to try to get some ducks in a row to arrange some theologians to help discuss issues around online religion, SecondLife, etc.. I've now got some good ones to try to track down... If you know of good theologians in this area, please let me know!

Jo not vomiting anymore, but running a temperature, has a rash, emotional, etc.. No sign of anything with Miri, luckily.

Poor Moo's very tired at the moment: she spends every spare hour at a project in Southend-on-Sea, where they're trying to recruit some management. Hopefully when that's done, things should calm down somewhat.

Labels: Moo, secondlife, theology

Walking - almost

Miri's so nearly there. The most she's managed is four little steps towards me, before making it into my arms. She _can_ do it: she just needs to believe.

I read Jo the Passion and Resurrection narratives (simplified) from her little Bible today. She asked "Who's God?" after a chat about Jesus. I explained about Jesus being God, and about God the Father (the Mother aspect was going to be too much!), and, in the interests of good Trinitarian theology, I felt I'd better mention the Holy Spirit. Not sure it helped matters particularly...

I was in London today, meeting a possible customer. Went well - oh, and stopped off at Hatfield Galleria, bought a pair of work shoes and a new shirt. My life's so interesting.

Labels: Jo, miri, theology, walk

We shall be changed

I'm not sure what I'm blogging on today. It's been quite a long day: I'm not quite sure why. Took the dog out for a walk, got soaked and cold, despite wearing moleskins. We signed a major deal today, which is excellent. We're working on another one. I spent some time trying to find some clerical shirts (I don't intend to spend £55.00 per shirt, as one provider was asking). And booked a dentist's appointment. And done lots of reading for a tutorial on eschatology,

But I just keep coming back to the phrase "And we shall changed."

Labels: theology, work

SecondLife - a paper

In November, I had to write an essay on fresh expressions of Church, and chose to do it on the Anglican Cathedral in SecondLife. I got the essay back this weekend, and as it was pretty well received, I've decided to publish the second part - in a somewhat edited format - as a contribution to discussions about SecondLife and online religion.

It is entitled The Anglican Cathedral in SecondLife: is it a successful "fresh expression of Church"?, and I welcome comments.

Labels: secondlife, theology

ERMC day 3 - "And we shall be changed. We _shall_ be changed"

We had one session yesterday on ministry in schools by on of the people on the course, who's an expert in this field, and we had two more today. Managed to stay awake: they were very interesting, and I know that I'm going to be doing at least one in the next month or two, so paying attention was a good plan.

A good service, in the charismatic tradition - the quote (which, in that form, is from Handel's Messiah) was my response to the weekend. Some good songs/choruses (I'm learning not to refer to them as "hymns"), and I was administering one of the chalices today. This was fantastic: it can be good administering the chalice anyway, but it was such a privilege today, when I know those receiving well, and know that they are staff or ordinands like me. It was just very special.

Labels: communion, ERMC, theology

ERMC day 2 - Resurrection and Ascension

A very enjoyable day, with three sessions on Resurrection (Christ's and ours) and Ascension (Christ's). Really got me thinking, and firming up exactly what I believe. Might get round to discussing this at some point, but I ended up being more orthodox than Gary had expected!

Stayed up rather late (0300) discussing many things. Must remember these books for the essay I discussed yesterday:

• Celebrating Christian Marriage by Adrian Thatcher
• The Family in Theological Perspective ed. Stephen Barton
• also found this when searching Amazon: Life Together: Family, Sexuality and Community in the New Testament and Today by Stephen Barton

Labels: ERMC, family, theology

One hour

(backposting) I went down to the bar for a drink before going out with some folks from the meeting tonight, and sat next to a guy who was reading through some record cards. They were clearly short texts from the Bible, and I asked him about them. He works for IBM, but also has a lay ministry working, mainly with homeless people, on helping people beyond just "accepting Christ" and further into trying to the lift the veil that is made up of our past experience and clinging to idols, and moving to a closer experience of God. He attends a Methodist church, but isn't strongly demonminational.

An interesting chat, and one of the things that he sometimes says to people is "imagine that Jesus is sitting in the next room, and you have just one hour to spend with him. What would you do?" He says that many people shy away. I don't think I would, but I became sad thinking about how what I suspect I'd find most difficult: I think Jesus might want to wash my feet, and I'm not sure how well I'd cope.

Labels: Christ, humility, theology

The kite

Not much sleep last night, and a trip to Freeport was a little fraught, but we managed it. I'm pleased, because I bought a bookcase which I really need for all those theology and work books. After lunch, though, Mum, Jo, Miri and I went to Clare Country Park to play with the kite that Jo had been given for her birthday on Thursday.

Got it put together, got it up. Moved to a better place, with more wind: in fact, there was just about the right amount of wind to get it up and staying up, but you needed to run a bit to keep it there when the wind dropped a little, which meant that from time to time, when Jo had it, it dropped to the ground. But we worked round that. Until Jo had it, was running away from me, I called her to run towards me, and she let go of it.

I ran. I really, really ran, and I thought I had it. In the end, it was getting away, and I threw myself after it. But to no avail. The end of the string, with handle, ended up 4 metres up a thorn tree. The kite itself about the same up another thorn tree. I tried to get it, but was needed to comfort Jo, who had completely (and understandably) lost it. And I'm not just talking about the kite.

We offered to try to find a replacement, or go for coffee and cake: she chose the former. Luckily, the local store had a cheap kite (£1.99!), which we bought, but once we got it up, she was worried that we were going to lose that one, too, that she wouldn't hold it herself, and soon refused to let me put it up at all, dissolving in tears. The poor thing's really tired at the moment, and was just beside herself.

So, coffee and cake this time. She demanded some cake, and, having had half a forkful, insisted that she was still full from lunch, so left it to me and Mum. But we had some nice tea to go with it.

As we were leaving the café, we spotted a girl of no more than 8, with her father/grandfather, and ... a kite. We asked, and yes, he'd managed to get it down with a long stick. He offered to give it back, and it was clearly what Jo wanted, so we accepted: and the little girl's lip began to wobble: quite understandably (again). So, I offered her the kite that we'd just bought. And _Jo_ started to lose it. Again, understandably. The bloke was lovely, but was visibly relieved when I told him that we'd bought the second just round the corner...

At this point, we gave up and went home.

Jo's very tired. So are we. I think the whole birthday and build-up have been a bit much for her, and she's really not getting enough sleep at the moment. Not that we are, either. I'm away three nights this week, and hope to get some sleep. Assuming that _I_ make it that far.

Now: anyone know of any good theologians talking about religion in cyberspace/online? Preferably in the UK.

Labels: family, Jo, online, theology

Phistophicles

Some real genius here. "...on why bad things happen to good people" is quite affecting, actually.

Labels: humour, theology

Liberation theology - challenging

I'm not sure whether that title means that I'm challenging Liberation theology, or being challenged by it, but I've been thinking, certainly. I'm really enjoying the ethics module, as I'd expected I would, and am reading ahead. I've just been reading Gorringe, who cites Segundo talking about the bottom line commitment for liberation theology is the option for the poor. I think the thing I'm trying to come to terms with is that although I absolutely accept the enormous inequalities - unchristian inequalities - that riddle our society, and the impact that has on the poorest in society, I'm not sure that I'm ready to take on board what seems to be the central tenet of liberation theology: that our first and foremost task must always be the reconstituting of society in such a way as to alleviate - and remove - economic poverty.

Are there not other unchristian inequalities that must attract our attention? Sometimes, maybe, more than economic poverty? Sometimes, maybe, we look beyond the question of inequalities, and focus more on injustice. I don't think this last point - injustice versus inequality - is particularly at odds with liberation theology. And I'm also very aware that this self-conscious theologising is dangerous in two particular ways:

1. in liberation theology, praxis is king (and there's an intentionally imperialist piece of language), and the primal move should be from sensing of injustice to dealing with it, and then to the theology around it
2. worst of all, I'm doing this from a position of extreme privilige. I'm a young, white, educated, healthy, safe, rich male in a happy nuclear family based around a heterosexual relationship between two waged individuals. It really doesn't get much worse than this: at least I'm not titled...

This is not a new argument, and I'm very aware of how womanist theory addresses the question of whether the aims of first and second generation (American) feminism are really consonant with the issues that are relevant to poor black women.

So, am I interested in issues about gender inequality, inequality around sexuality or sexual practice, spiritual poverty, educational poverty, emotional poverty, psychological poverty and the rest just because I'm in a position to be so? Is my privilege leading me to a leisure of choice which allows me to look beyond the real issues of Third World - or Developing World - poverty? Maybe it is. But am I wrong to look more closely at what's going on at home? Might I not start by looking at homeless people? Surely that would be acceptable to liberation theologians? But what are the reasons for those (multiple) homelessnesses? Surely there is no real poverty in our Welfare State-supported society? Surely those who are homeless, or disenfranchised, or addicts, of in abusive relationships, or complaining about lack of advancement for female or homosexual clergy are not really poor? Surely they have choices?

They may well do. But they should not be called to make those choices. And I think that this is consonant with liberation theology. I pray that those committed liberation theologians will allow that I have a true and real spiritual - and, following that - theological commitment to removing injustice. I hope so.

Labels: feminism, injustice, poverty, theology

Seminar yesterday

I forgot - I had a seminar yesterday. Richard, the staff member, was leading it: on the atonement. We had quite a discussion on the nature of sin. I take the view that sin and evil are pretty much synonymous, and without conscious humanity, there would be no evil. His theodicy is rather different to mine: he sees a broken creation, whereas I see a broken and fallen humanity. Christ dies on the cross, for me, to atone for humanity's sin, but for Richard, he atones not just for moral evil, but for the "evil" he sees in nature: the pain of a dying animal, and the death of an innocent neonate human baby.

I don't see evil in this way. For me, the phrase "the lion will lie down with the lamb" is allegorical, not literal, but if you take a view of creation that it is broken, then the Atonement must, I suppose, include this. My concern with this view is that I believe that God's grace is strongly shown through the natural world, and that any intervention that breaks the rules of that world - of what we call scientific laws - would be a denial, by God, of his grace and love.

Labels: ERMC, sin, theology

3/4 birthday, and the Bible. And fundamentalism

Miri turned 50:50 today: 9 months old. I'm not going into that. Anyway, she's doing very well at the moment, and is in a very social phase at the moment.

I led another "coffee and worship" this morning, and we used the new area in the back of Great Yeldham church. We didn't sit in pews: we sat in a circle. And had coffee and tea while we discussed things. No, really! This is the Church of England. Rural church of England. And 22 people came. TWENTY-TWO! We had to put new chairs out. And there were 2 children I didn't count.

So, we had a greeting, I read Acts 10:34-43, then John 11:25-27. Then we had coffee and tea (and biscuits) and I talked about "What does it mean to believe in the Bible"? I talked about Eusebius saying in the early 4th century that everyone knew that Genesis wasn't a literal description of the creation, but allegorical, and how fundamentalism, in Christianity, is generally a 19th century phenomenon, about translation (how many people read both Hebrew and New Testament Greek - oh, and Jesus spoke in Aramaic, anyway). And lots of related stuff. Only had 10 minutes or so, and then we had some discussion. I moved between the groups.

In the second group, I discovered two people who are, frankly, creationists. They're cool about it, and just feel it's the easiest reading.

I spent quite a lot of my summing up and intercessions in the following worship talking about respecting people with viewpoints different to our own.

Labels: belief, church, faith, miri, theology

SecondLife and the virtual self

(backposting) I went to a lecture in Chelmsford Cathedral today: "The Virtual Self". The lecturer, though providing some decent quotes from Baudrillard and making some comparisons with the images in Plato's cave which I liked a lot, was generally very negative about SecondLife and the rest. I didn't like the fact that he spent a lot of time talking about people with clear issues IRL, and then how much time they spend in-world, or how different their avatars are from their "real" bodies. He talked about idolatry a lot, and addiction.

There were questions at the end, and I was one of those who stepped up. I made three points:

1. that everyone there is very welcome to join us at that Anglican Cathedral in SecondLife, that we hold services and prayers meetings and have pastoral encounters
2. that Baudrillard would say that they growth of the "imagined" other self dates from at least the invention of the printed book, and that every time we make a phonecall or write an email, we're imagining a self, and employing a persona. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and no-one - not even ourselves - can truly know the "real" us, except God. The imagined selves that we present are part of who we are and how we engage with the world as it is now, and although there are dangers, there are opportunities, too.
3. that we have a duty as Christians to step out and engage with people wherever they are, and that not only are there lots of normal people there, but they are very ready to engage in spiritual and theological encounters - more so than is often the case IRL. And they are _young_ people, who the established churches have problems interacting with generally...

I wasn't the only person to stand up and make positive points, but the people there were mainly in their 50s or above, and this was all pretty new to them. And frightening, from the way he talked about it.

I was flabbergasted, by the way, that he felt in a position to talk about, and criticise, MMOs (and social networking sites like Facebook, which he painted with the same brush!), despite never having visited any of them.

Ah, and my first night on my own with the girls (Mel baby-sat until I got home).

Labels: secondlife, theology

More theology

On the way back from Greenstead Green church with Jo and Miri, decided to address the question of Jesus' flying (see Friday's entry). Went into omnipresence (Jesus doesn't really fly, but he's everywhere): could have gone worse. Then addressed Jesus' dying, and coming back. ("Why?" "Because He loves us: Jesus is God, and he loves everyone.") Went back into omnipresence. "He's everywhere, but you can't see Him." Pause. "I can see God: he's over there." (Jo points at a field).

I have some more work to do.

Labels: god, Jo, theology

Theology

(backposting) A conversation between Jo and Moo today:

Jo: Mummy, you know Jesus?

Moo: Um, yes?

Jo: He does a lot of flying around now he's dead, doesn't he?

Moo: Does he?

Jo: Yes, he's always buzzing around everywhere. Like a fly.

Moo: I'd ask your dad about that.

I have some work to do.

Labels: Jo, Moo, theology

Hallowe'en

Hallowe'en (or just "Halloween"). As if we Christians didn't have enough issues to split us into multiple camps as it is: homosexuality, women priests, women bishops, the hymn/song debate, the Filioque issue, robes or no robes, the appropriateness of pebbles in worship... But Hallowe'en is another one, and it's interesting because it seems to create different fracture lines to some of the other issues. Although you can guess where some people are likely to go on it (most conservative Evangelicals would be against celebrating it, for instance, in my experience), others who you might think would have strong views don't. And vice versa.

But it's one of those issues on which people feel that they _ought_ to have strong views, and it's an issue which has been raising its head more in the UK than it did, say, 10 years ago. This is because the retail sector (read "supermarkets", mainly) have realised that there's a big, big buck to be made from selling costumes and food and accoutrements to children and their parents. That and because it's a major cultural event in the US which we've picked up on from their media.

So, why do people think that they ought to have a view on it? Well, for Christians, the view that's been fed by the strongly anti-Hallowe'en brigade is that it's a celebration of darkness and evil which is linked to a pagan past and which is inherently un-Christian. I can kind of see this, although I'd come back with the contention that at least we're remembering a Christian festival here (albeit possibly levered into a pre-Christian consciousness of spirits and animus-worship). All Hallows' Eve is about remembering all those who've died in the faith, and that's a good thing. Looking at the dark side is less so, I agree, and there are dangers there, but for most people - and certainly most kids, and that's where lots of the concern arises, I suspect - the dark side (evil) really isn't what's being celebrated. The best type of "trick or treating" (which most of us in the UK seem to have missed) is about families having fun and bonding with other people in their community in a joint community pursuit - of which, God knows, we have too few.

That's not to say that I'm entirely happy about it, and in particular about the blatant commercialisation of (yet another) Christian festival, but I think that Hallowe'en exists as an education opportunity, rather than as a ranting opportunity, and that's where I'd like to start the debate from a Christian standpoint. I look forward to reading what my fellow synchrobloggers have to say on the subject: I do hope they're not all as woolly liberal as I am...

Synchroblog

Today is a "synchroblog" on the subject of "Christianity and Paganism". If you've liked what you read here, or, more particularly, if you didn't, and you'd like to read some other opinions, please visit one of the other participating blogs:

• The Christians and the Pagans Meet for Samhain at Phil Wyman's Square No More
• Our Own Private Zombie: Death and the Spirit of Fear by Lainie Petersen
• Julie Clawson at One Hand Clapping
• John Morehead at John Morehead's Musings
• Vampire Protection by Sonja Andrews
• What's So Bad About Halloween? at Igneous Quill
• H-A-double-L-O-double-U-double-E-N Erin Word
• Halloween....why all the madness? by Reba Baskett
• Steve Hayes at Notes from the Underground
• KW Leslie at The Evening of Kent
• Hallmark Halloween by John Smulo
• Mike Bursell at Mike's Musings
• Sam Norton at Elizaphanian
• Removing Christendom from Halloween at On Earth as in Heaven
• Vampires or Leeches: A conversation about making the Day of the Dead meaningful by David Fisher
• Encountering hallow-tide creatively by Sally Coleman
• Kay at Chaotic Spirit
• Apples and Razorblades at Johnny Beloved
• Steve Hayes at Notes from the Underground
• Fall Festivals and Scary Masks at The Assembling of the Church
• Why Christians don't like Zombies at Hollow Again
• Peering through the negatives of mission Paul Walker
• Sea Raven at Gaia Rising
• Halloween: My experiences by Lew A
• Timothy Victor at Tim Victor's Musings
• Making Space for Halloween by Nic Paton

Labels: synchroblog, theology

Trying something new

Today I took two services, one at Little Yeldham, and one at Great Yeldham. I did the same thing both times, something I'd not tried before, and with which I was very pleased. I was a little worried, as it was so new - and something that neither congregation is used to - but it went very well, I think. A few negative comments, but from the quarters I would have expected, so I'm not overly worried about that.

The general plan was the same for both churches:

• I entered in cassock-alb and girdle
• I started with the standard words for Morning Prayer (Common Worship), then moved into ...
• a reading: Luke 17:11-19 (the Samaritan leper who turned back to praise God for his healing)
• I then put down my bible, started to take off my girdle, and said "Right, let's have coffee, then". I'd already got water boiling, so it didn't take long to get everyone sat down with a hot drink.
• I then explained that I wanted people to get into 2s and 3s and to discuss for 5 or so minutes the question "why do I go to church?" - whether that means the building, or services, etc. - followed by "what do I get from going to church?"
• I wandered around the groups, encouraging, taking some notes
• after 7-8 minutes I stood at the front and collected the themes that people had come up with. I spent some time talking about the importance of worship as a reason for going to church (one congregation had come up with this, one not)
• I then handed round a set of Bibles that I'd gathered from home, and asked each mini-group to come up with a passage which they felt reflected one of the themes that had been identified
• I went round the groups with a concordance (which I'd cunningly thought to bring along!), pinning down the readings they'd been thinking of
• we then launched into a fairly standard but slightly cut-down Morning Prayer service, with confession, absolution and creed to start off
• this was followed by the passages that people had identified, read by the people who'd selected them (though I offered to read them if people wanted). After each, I said "This is the Word of the Lord", to which everyone replied "Thanks be to God"
• we had some intercessions (in one church)
• we then had an offertory hymn
• I then wrapped up, asking the congregation to think about the question "What would I like to get from going to church?" and the associated question "What would other people, who don't go to church, like to get from going to church?" I encouraged them to ask (or invite!) friends.
• we finished off with another hymn
• we then had some discussion.

Quite a few people loved it, at least one hated it, but I was very pleased with how it went overall. One comment from both churches was that they'd like to have a little more of a sermon to react to, discuss and think about, and I'll try to do that at some point. Next time, we're combining the two congregations into one service: that'll be the 2nd Sunday of December, if anyone fancies coming.

B*gger

I took Jo swimming today, and she had some problems getting her swimming costume on: "bugger," she said, matter-of-factly. I had to tell her off, and explain that it's a rude word that we don't usee. And, when we got home, I had to tell her mother off, who's been known to use at home, and who I'm had to tell off just this morning...

Looks like we're going to be playing South Africa in the final of the Rugby World Cup next weekend.

Labels: Jo, rugby, service, theology

Humour and theology

At the time of posting, Google searches on the phrases "if God had meant us to laugh" and "if Jesus had meant us to laugh" bring up no hits. I'm not sure whether this should be considered good news or bad. Neither am I sure why I'm wasting my time on such research...

Labels: laughter, theology

Infant Communion

I've never felt even vaguely happy about infant communion. Although I realise that there's an argument to say that it's good to involve children early on, and not to leave them out of a particular part of the service, but I've always taken the view that you shouldn't be taking communion until you're of an age to understand the seriousness and importance of what it's about.

I was reading Jo some stories from the excellent My Very First Bible today. We'd done Jesus in the storm (twice), the hole in the roof (once), and Jo wanted another story, so I read the Passion narrative and then finished with the Resurrection. When we got to the Last Supper, I read along the lines of "Jesus shared bread and wine with his friends, and told them to do the same to remember him."

Jo said, "you have bread and wine, don't you?" I said, "yes." And then she said, "but you don't share it with me, do you? I have a biscuit, don't I?"

She knows that she can't have the bread and the wine, but if she's patient, after a service, she can have a biscuit with the coffee/tea afterwards. I've tried very hard to make it clear that the biscuits aren't an equivalent, or alternative, and I think she gets that. What was heart-breaking was the tone with which she accepted that I don't share the bread and the wine with her. She really understands sharing and how important it is. It's a really difficult thing for a toddler, but she's getting quite good at doing it with Miri and with us: sometimes she'll even offer us her food if she really likes it. And I really believe that she understood the importance of Jesus sharing the bread and the wine with his friends. She made the leap from that to the Eucharist service completely on her own, and I was astonished. And heart-broken.

I have some serious thinking to do about my theology of the Eucharist. "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings...": Matthew 21:16.

Labels: communion, Jo, theology

12-10 (and some theology, at last)

There's a classic theological dilemma about whether it's right for Christian nations to pray to God for them to beat their enemies in war (everyone does, of course), but it's hard to see how people _can't_ believe in God when he sends a result like today's by England against Australia in the Rugby World cup. I can see that if you're Australian, you might take a different view.

On a serious note, though, this brings questions about what it's right to pray for. I _didn't_ pray (well, not consciously, at least!) for a win over Australia, though it's bl**dy marvellous, but that's not the point. Even praying for a parking space - which is likely to mean that someone else will be deprived of one - is an issue which has come up recently (after the Church of England published a se of prayers for commuters and travellers). I think this is one of those areas when we have to give up our prayers to God: in two ways. The first of these, of course, is to direct our prayers to God: that's what prayers are about, certainly prayers of intercession. The second is about realising that God knows better how to answer our prayers than we do. Here's the great prayer of St Chrysostom (as used at Mattins and Evensong in the Book of Common Prayer:

Almight God, who hast given us grace at this time with one accord to make our common supplications unto thee; and dost promise, that when two or three are gathered together in thy Name thou wilt grant their requests; Fulfil now, O Lord, the desires and petitions of thy servants, as may be most expedient for them; granting us in this world knowledge of thy truth, and in the world to come life everlasting.

The key phrase here is "as may be most expedient for them". Our knowledge is finite, and time-limited: God's, on the other hand, is limitless and outside time. So, is it OK to pray for things that we know may have a (negative) impact on other people? Here are my off-the-cuff guidelines:

• assuming that the prayer is heartfelt, then yes
• assuming that the prayer is not motivated by malevolence, then yes (e.g. when we actively _don't_ want somebody else, whether that person is a particular person or not, to get that parking space)
• assuming that we're willing to allow God to decide how to answer the prayer
• assuming that we're happy to accept God's decision

These may be difficult things to do, certainly all at once, and we're human, broken and fallible, so we might not managed them, but I hope (and believe) that God will understand and accept prayers offered in the spirit that I've outlined above.

Labels: prayer, rugby, theology

Where's all the theology

I do try to do a little theology once in a while - usually once a week - but it's been more than that, really, and I'm afraid that there's none here today, either. I'm having a little break from thinking theologically, inasmuch as one can...

But I have booked a trip to Canada (Toronto, as usual). And planned another one. As one does.

Labels: theology, travel, work

Polyamory - polygamy and polyandry

A friend showed me this post, and asked me to comment on it. In the end, I had so much to say that I thought it made sense to blog it. Hope people find it interesting.

The post: very difficult, very challenging. I struggle with it, on a number of levels.

Let's start with marriage. I'd like to think that (life-long) marriage is the model that we have been given, and which is the ideal to which we are called. But there are problems from the start:

• not all marriages work, and it's not always anyone's fault.
• even when there is someone at fault, should we force people to stay in a loveless marriage and not divorce?
• and why not remarry, then?
• what about gays, lesbians and transgendered people? I can't see any godly reason why their relationships shouldn't be blessed. And I struggle to see why such a relationship shouldn't be a marriage. We can't use the children argument anymore, surely? I've yet to see a theological argument to convince me that we shouldn't remodel marriage in this way (there are lots of issues to do with ecclesiastical reasons to do with schism), though I'm still not sure where I stand
• so, I'm forced to think hard about what I think a marriage is.

Why not more people in a marriage, then? As the poster points out, there's biblical precedent for a man having more than one wife - and though the other way round (one woman, more than one husband) isn't attested to, one assumes that the patriarchal nature of biblical society would be likely to condone this, given the view of women as owned goods, rather than owners. By Jesus' time, however, it seems that the current model was the accepted one. It's also the case that Christians have accepted polygamous marriage in some societies where they've tried to contextualise their mission activity - in Africa, for instance.

So, it's difficult.

And why one-to-one? Well, apart from the historical reasons about needing a mix of male and female to make babies, I suspect that a major reason that most societies worldwide have settled on two-person relationships is that they work best. Relationships are fluid things, and it's difficult enough with children, but having multiple adults will make for more complicated relationships. And sex complicates things. Sexual jealousy is a fact of life, and although people may, at one particular time, not feel jealousy sexually, I suspect that for many people, that can and often will change over time - sometimes more, sometimes less. And sex, I really believe, is, like all good things about being human, a gift from God. It can be misused, but it can be a hugely rewarding, affirming and joyful experience: one of the great things that you can share with another human being.

I think sex is important in this context because there are many family set-ups where lots of people live in the same space - or set of spaces - and care for each other. But the sexual elements of the family relationships tend to be the cementing aspects between particular members.

I talked about "most societies worldwide" settling on two-person relationships. I think there are some questions we need to ask here. The first is "what about God's revelation through scripture?" Indeed - and I think there are very important things to learn here, but we need to be very aware of the readings of scripture we make here - the book "What the Bible really says about homosexuality" is a good source-book here. So, there certainly is guidance to be gained. But I also believe that God, through the workings of the Holy Spirit, works through societies, whether Christian or not, and through the individuals that comprise them - again, whether Christian or not. But there are dangers here, too - where do we stand on the issue that most societies are (still) strongly patriarchal?

Two biblical points: first, the fact that Jesus' first great work was at a marriage (at Cana, of course) has traditionally (and with very good reason, I believe) been seen as an important sign that marriage is an institution blessed by God.

Second, Jesus (in Luke 20:34ff) says "Those who belong in this age marry and are given to marriage; but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage." This is the NRSV translation, and there's an interesting note in the HarperCollins Study version on 20:34: "Marry, i.e., to procreate. This is no longer necessary for those who inherit eternal life in the age to come." First, saying that marry = procreate doesn't seem fair to the Greek. I'm not a Greek scholar, but other uses of the the lemma from which this word comes ("gamein"), though it seems to come from a meaning around procreation ("gamete" in English is cognate, I suspect) seems to mean "marriage" when used by New Testament writers, particularly Paul. I have no idea what Aramaic word Jesus was using! Second (on the note in the study version), Jesus _actually_ talks about "those who are considered worthy", which is different. Of course, _we_ can't decide who's considered worthy. Peake's commentary is interesting here:

"[XX:]35. Lk. corrects Mk's apparent implication that all the sons of this age will attain the resurrection life. It is very unlikely that Kl.'s change to Mk's wording imples a view that men are fitted by celibacy in this life to attain the age to come; marriage is considered in this passage solely from the point of view of legal relationship and the procreation of children. No conclusions can be drawn from it concerning the character of Christian marriage."

I'm not sure that I agree with the last sentence: where else are we supposed to take scriptural guidance, if not from Jesus' words? It's a complicated passage, and I don't think that Peake helps much. (NB - I've checked the Synoptic parallels, and they're very similar: Luke has the most material of the three).

There's a last point which complicates matters for me. In the strict Protestant tradition, the only sacraments are Baptism and Communion, as those are the only ones instituted by Jesus Christ. Indeed, the 25th Article of Religion in the Book of Common Prayer states:

Those five commonly called Sacraments, that is to say, Confirmation, Penance, Orders, Matrimony and Extreme Unction, are not to be counted for Sacraments of the Gospel, begin such as have grown partly of the corrupt following of the Apostles, partly are states of life allowed in the Scriptures; but yet have not the like nature of Sacraments with Baptism and the Lord's Supper, for that they have not any visible sign of ceremony ordained of God.

I take a high view of marriage, however, and for me, my marriage _is_ a sacrament. But I'm not sure I'm ready to force others to this view. But I think we can agree that it's a divinely ordained institution. That can't help but sway my views on how seriously we take marriage and related issues.

Note - I think there is one area where this poster doesn't meet the marriage criteria: she says that at least one of the members isn't ready for commitment. That's a big one for me. Commitment to each other in front of God and a congregation (preferably of those you know, whether that's family or friends) is a sine qua non for me.

I don't think I'm ready to condemn - I'm not a big fan of condemnation anyway - but I certainly have some reservations about what the poster describes, whether it works for her or not.

Labels: marriage, theology

SecondLife

(backposting) We had our first ministry team meeting for the Anglicans in SecondLife group today. A good representation from across the globe, including some good discussions of what we're doing, what we plan to do, and what we're _not_ planning to do. Among the last is a Eucharist. The theological questions around it are quite complex, and we want to probe them, but, for the moment, we think it's safer not to push the boundaries - and neither, I think, do any of us feel happy theologically or pastorally about doing so.

The group was interested to hear that we've made contact with The Ecclesiastical Law Society, and look forward to discussing various issues with them. They seem keen to engage with what's happening online, and in particular with SecondLife, so I'm looking forward to more involvement there.

Labels: secondlife, theology

EasyJet Ministry

(backposting) Got into Helsinki 10 minutes early at 0125 local, and got to my hotel a little fater 0200. My boss was _well_ impressed to discover that I was phoning him around 2 in the morning local time! Stuff to do, and I was in a taxi with nothing else to do, so why not?

Took a while to get to sleep, and up at 0840 for a breakfast with Harri, a colleague. 3 interesting meetings, and then back on a plane, taking off around 1855, arriving at 1955 local: 3 hours in the plane. I slept for about an hour, and then woke up.

Next to me was David (hi, David!), a photographer. I asked him about his book, he told me about it, and then noticed mine (Tim Gorringe's formidable Furthering Humanity: A Theology of Culture). He asked me about it, and I told him that I'm training for ordination as a priest. What followed was a fascinating discussion, which we dubbed "EasyJet Ministry", although we weren't on an EasyJet flight, and EasyJet would probably dislike the term. But it sums it up: I quite often have discussions about ministry, church and theology on these trips. You have an hour or two tops to discuss where you're coming from, and to talk about your beliefs - both of you.

David's "not a churchgoer", but he has a strong belief in a purposeful creator, and he thanks Him/Her/It pretty much every day for the beauty he sees around him and for the life he lives. He's turned off by churches ("I think 'cold, uncomfortable, unwelcoming'"), and his view of priests is as being out of touch and unlike him. We discussed where I'm coming from, and how I feel strongly that part of my ministry (alongside this kind of interaction) is to be doubting, clear, and honest about my faith to people like me. It was interesting to see how little - but how much - someone from outside the church knew about the Church of England. We discussed doctrine (including justification by faith alone, one of my favourite topics!), Hell (not literal, thanks), the authority of scripture, tradition and experience, and a variety of other topics, including architecture and music. I think that he's now more open to the church as a possibility for him, and I hope he'll be reading this blog. If so, David, please comment from your point of view!

David was very excited to hear about what we're doing in SecondLife, and alternative expressions of mission. Maybe he (and others like him) can be prevailed upon to visit the cathedral we've built, and maybe even attend a service.

Anyway - I felt that I'd been honest, and that being so had at least helped David to realise that the church can be at least a bit relevant to him and people like him (and me). I felt affirmed and strengthened in my ministry. Thanks be to God.

And a baby!

D had a baby today: Lotte. I found out via an MMS once I got off the plane. 5lb, healthy. Hallelujah!

Labels: baby, ministry, theology, travel, work

A smiley, chattering monster, Sweden ... and substitutionary atonement

Miri's lots and lots of fun at the moment. She'll spent half and hour or more on my knee or on my tummy, chat, chat, chatting, smiling, looking into my eyes, being lovely, and generally posseting everywhere. It's what being a dad's about, IMHO.

Being a dad is less about having to go to Sweden overnight again next week, unless you count "earning an honest crush" as being part of a dad's role, which you might, I suppose. I'm going to somewhere spelt Linköping, but pronounced "Lingchirping", as close as I can gather. It is ridiculous how foreigners can't even spell their own placenames properly sometimes. I'm not usually prone to luggage-lust (unlike Catherine) but there's a piece of Samsonite luggage which I'm very keen on which I thought I'd have loads of chances to buy before I next went away. Not to be, unluckily.

"But what about substitutionary atonement?" I hear you cry. Well, Keith and I had agreed to meet to have a chat about a piece by Tom Wright in the Church Times a couple of months ago where he rather attacked Jeffry John for being too soft on the doctrine of substitutionary atonement. This is the doctrine that says that Jesus, when he died, took all of our sins on his shoulders, and took the punishment for all of mankind, thereby redeeming us. I've simplified it, and there are different shades to interpretation, but I think that pretty much sums it up. Wright felt that a broadcast by Jeffrey John downplayed significantly the importance of the doctrine, and although I don't have real problems with that view, some of the expressions of the doctrine in Wright's defense went a little too far for me. Keith and I talked over this issue - and atonement in general - in some detail, and strayed into other areas such as spiritual warfare, "Jesus-followers" (a danger, in my view, of the "Exemplar" view of atonement), and the personification of evil. It was great for both of us to do some theology, and also to ground it in our experience, and I'm glad we took the time.

To round things off, my penultimate year report came through from ERMC. This is the very important report which goes to the DDO and the bishop and either recommends that I go through to ordination, or says that I shouldn't. I'm pleased to say that it recommends that I should, and gave what I thought was a very honest view of me, my theology, my spirituality and my personality. It identified some areas that need work, but I knew about those, and was happy to sign it off.

Labels: ERMC, miriam, theology, travel

Theology - penal substitution of atonement

It's a while since I blogged much theology, but things are settling down at home (church with Jo, more breastfeeding today - which went well - a long walk with Jo on my back and with the dog - not on my back, etc.), and I took the time to read an article by Bishop Tom Wright in the "Church Times about the doctrine of penal substitution atonement. There's currently a major argument going on within the evangelical parts of the Church of England around whether penal substitution is the only doctrine of substitution which should be accepted, and how severe a version of the doctrine should be adopted.

In fact, there's been something of a split within the evangelical parts of the CofE. One (Baptist) evangelical, whose book "The Lost Message of Jesus" has many adherents, is Steve Chalke. He rejected one understanding of penal substitionary atonement as "a vengeful father, punishing his Son for an offence he has not even committed." "The fact is that the cross isn't a form of cosmic child abuse".

Well, of course it isn't. First of all, let me say that I do find this particular doctrine of atonement useful. It's one of several that I find helpful, in fact, but I feel that it's often oversimplified. For a start, talking about the Father the Son in the way that Chalke is quoted as doing seems to be grossly negligent of the doctrine of the Trinity. The Father and the Son aren't just a father and a son - they're part of the Trinity: cosubstantial, coeternal. The Father doesn't force the cross on the Son: it's a joint decision by all parts of the Trinity - the Spirit as well.

But Tom Wright's view, which is opposed to Chalke's, is one with which I also can't hold. The problem the Wright seems to have with rejection of the "strong" view of penal subs titution is that it rejects the view of God's wrath. Wright is very much in favour of a theology which highlights God's wrath. This I find very difficult. He writes "...God's wrath is the necessary outworking of his love. If God does not hate slavery, child-abuse and the exploitation of the poor; and if God is not determined to condemn them and rid his world of them, then God's judgement is neither good nor loving." Well, I agree with the second of those sentnences, but really don't need to take on the first. Wrath is usually associated with vengeance, and this I reject. At no point in his article does Wright reference the core gospel ("good news") for me: God is love. S/He can be horrified by, saddened by, angered by, despair at all the things that Wright mentions, but can do so without wreaking vengeance. Wrath - violent, almost uncontrolled anger - is not what I associate with the God I know who is revealed in his Son in the New Testament. A God who allows his Son to take on the burden (the uncontrollably oppressive, the unbearably painful burden) of our sins for the sake of love: that is the God I know.

Labels: CofE, love, theology

11 days, and still pain all the time

I'm not feeling very theological. Other than asking God to relieve Moo's pain - and give it to me, if needs be - and saying evensong, that's about it. Managed to get some work done. It's not just when she's feeding - but the rest of the time, too.

Labels: theology, work

Persecution and Righteousness

Today's post is a synchroblog (see below) on the topic "Persecution of Righteousness". I chose a somewhat different title on purpose, as there was something about the topic that I wasn't sure about, and which I thought I'd look at. We agreed to synchroblog on persecution after an incident where one of our number was removed from a leadership role in a church, not for something he wrote on a synchroblog, but for the fact that he linked to other members, whose views his church didn't like. This led me to write an entry I called Guilty by assocation. I later discovered that other synchrobloggers have suffered similarly. Given the proximity of this month's synchroblog to Easter, posting on persecution seemed to make sense, and I pushed for the topic to include it.

But when the topic was chosen, it was broader - I wondered about querying this, but it started me thinking, and I'm of the opinion that when I start thinking about things theologically, God generally is prompting me to keep doing so.

So, what worried me about "persecution of righteousness"? Well, I'm clearly _against_ persecution of righteousness, but what about persecution in general? One definition of persecution (Webster, 1913) gives:

1. The act or practice of persecuting; especially, the infliction of loss, pain, or death for adherence to a particular creed or mode of worship.

I'd take it much more broadly than that, and I think that's rather an old definition - more modern definitions would be likely to include issues such as more general beliefs, practices or ways of life (e.g. sexual orientation), or states of being (e.g. physical or mental disability). Now, what's interesting from my point of view, here, is that some of these areas might involve behaviour which is not righteous, and therefore don't exhibit righteousness. Some of them would be up for general debate - homosexual sex, for instance - and I wondered if there is something about the act of persecution which lends righteousness to the persecuted? I think that there's something about the act of persecution which is incompatible with righteousness (in terms of the persecutor), but I don't think, on reflection, that the suggestion holds water. What about paedophiles, for instance? Does their being persecuted make them righteous? No, I don't think so.

But - and here's the rub - I believe that we have a Christian duty (in the strongest sense of the word, in that it's handed to us by Jesus Christ himself) to reach out to the persecuted. Matthew 25:

34 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

35 For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

36 Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

37 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?

38 When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

39 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?

Christ's mission was not just to the righteous, but to sinners. Our mission should include the same.

Synchroblog

Today is a "synchroblog" on the subject of spiritual warfare. If you've liked what you read here, or, more particularly, if you didn't, and you'd like to read some other opinions, please visit one of the other participating blogs:

• David Fisher - Be the Revolution
• Fishing for Trouble - Phil Wyman's Square No More
• Persecution and Righteousness - Mike's Musings
• Restoring Our View of Humanity - Eternal Echoes
• Persecuting the Marginalized - JohnSmulo.com
• The Ends Justify the Means - Calacirian
• Billy Calderwood - Billy Calderwood
• Seeking First Righteousness - Tim Abbott
• Jamie Swann - More Than Stone
• Persecution and Martyrdom - Handmaid Leah
• "Don't squash the counter-revolutionary/the plank in my own eye" - Jeremiah
• The Martyrs of Epinga at Notes from Underground
• Terrorism in Christianity at The Rivera Blog
• Persecution or Poor Elocution? "Hello," said Jenelle

Labels: synchroblog, theology

Holy Saturday

I'm never quite at ease on this day, each year. There is, for me, an edginess, a not-quite-rightness about the day, however beautiful the weather, however good the company: I cannot settle. This is the time between the death of Jesus and his resurrection, where you can't quite believe that it's going to be all right: the news hasn't quite filtered through, there's a waiting: it's the "stillness between the heaves of storm" in Emily Dickinson's poem which I quoted earlier this week.

The world seems to wait with baited breath around me - it reminds me of a time-lapse film where you've seen the plants grow, and the buds ripen, but you just can't be sure that they will burst open, filling the world with a riot of colour and life. Now is the devil's time, in one theology: this is when he thinks he's won. He may not be stalking the earth, maybe because he's celebrating his victory, secure in the knowledge that Christ has been defeated by death, but there's a certain pause while creation takes a shocked breath and holds it for tomorrow. Will it happen? Will Christ rise?

I was wondering to myself if that means that I feel deserted by God, today. It doesn't. In some ways, I feel closer to Him. God the Father feels, maybe, more human to me today that at any other time, because He's lost a son. God feels the pain of loss and suffering in a way maybe more human than He could ever have expected. That jolt, that stops your heart for a second, when you hear bad news: that's what I imagine God feeling, when He saw and felt and heard Jesus dying. It's a time when I can almost decapitalise God's pronoun, and refer to him, not "Him". I wondered whether to refer to God a female in this post - I often do, and the reality of the human experience of motherhood is desperately important in this context, I think. But when it came down to it, it is the God who is closest to me that I identify with today, and that's a "He", because I, too, am a "he".

And the man who, before, had called him "Abba" - "Father", "Daddy" - now called out to him "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani" - "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?". God could have reached out and stopped it. He knows that. And He knows that for our sakes, and for Jesus' sake, he must not. And so God loses a son. And we lose the Son.

My heart is set towards tomorrow.

Labels: theology

Good Friday

(backposting) For me, this is the most theologically charged day of the Christian calendar. For reasons not worth enumerating, I knew from early in the day that I wasn't going to get a chance to go to a church service, which was difficult. I managed, however, to find 20 minutes or so to sit down with my laptop and listen to Tallis' "Lamentations of Jeremiah", streamed from home. We need to take the spiritual comfort we can, when we can, and this saw me through.

We had a good day, and the evening's meal ended up with my trying to explain the intricacies of the Anglican hierarchy to the assembled throng -

• Mac: I don't see why we don't just call all priests "vicars"
• Me: For the same reason that we don't call all doctors "GPs"

- and then talking about vocation - mine, and others. It was interesting, and an important part of my ministry, I think: to be open to the questions and probings of those around with little faith or none, but at least showing an interest.

Managed to make the end of a party in SecondLife to mark the opening of a new area for faith groups called Koinonia. Only stayed for a while, but caught up with a few friends, listened to the live music, etc., so at least I made an appearance.

Good Friday - some theology

Looking back on this post, I thought that I ought to spend a little time talking about why Good Friday is so theologically charged for me. There are other candidates, of course: Christmas, when the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us; Easter, when Christ rose again from the dead in glory; Pentecost, when the disciples, remaining behind, unsure and leaderless, were gifted with the Holy Spirit and given a reality to their commission. These are the most obvious, but for me, it has to be Good Friday. Without the death of Christ on the cross, none of the rest of it would make sense, or have any substance. It is the rending of the curtain of the temple, the destruction of the split between heaven and earth, the kenosis, the moment when, in death, Jesus, a man, suffered and became Christ, our God. I should qualify that last statement: I don't mean that Jesus was not God before his death on the cross - that way lies heresy! - but that this moment is where the reality is revealed, the single moment of history on which the rest of the created order turns.

Easter is now possible: Christ, the propitiation for our sins, can rise in glory (but what a tear-obscured rising in the garden!). Christmas suddenly makes sense: there is a reason why God has made an appearance. And Pentecost is where we, God's church, need to take over the witness.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem: convertere ad Dominum Deum tuum.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem: turn to the Lord your God.

Labels: Christ, death, music, party, secondlife, theology

God, evolution (part II)

As Jo eats an orange for breakfast:

Jo: what's that?

Moo: it's a pip. It's a kind of seed.

Jo: why?

Me: it's how you grow things. If you want to grow a new thing, you need seeds.

Jo: why?

Me: you put it in the ground and give it water and keep it warm, and if you're lucky, it will make a new tree, or flower, or vegetable.

Jo: why?

Me: because that's how evolution and God made things

Me (aside to Moo): well, it worked last time

Jo: why?

Moo smirks

Me (struggling): because there's a bit of the divine in each of us, and we're all products of evolution, aren't we?

Jo: Amen.

Moo looks flabbergasted

Mike (looking smug): it's taking...

Labels: god, Jo, Moo, theology

Synchroblog: guilty by association

At the end of last year, a few people in the blogosphere, all Christians who'd had opportunity to read each others blogs - or some of them - decided to get together and post, on a theological, religious or spiritual topic once a month, calling ourselves "Synchrobloggers". We change the topic each month, and there's a wide spectrum of different traditions from around the world. We'd like to recruit more, but it's only just started. You can see my last post (with a link to the others also posting) here.

Because the traditions and theological backgrounds are so different, the views expressed are also very broad, and it's fair to say that it's unlikely that any one person will agree with everything that all the others say. For instance, I'm very liberal in my theological outlook, and that's reflected in my views on sexuality. Sally has a lot of time for alternative spiritualities, as well as a strongly feminist slant to her theology, and so on. It's less of a meeting of minds, and more a meeting of intent: that each of us should have the chance to express our views, read the views of others, and then comment and discuss. There have been some occasions when certain people's views have been rejected, and though it's difficult, that's OK, as well. We each walk our own path, following God's guidance as best we can.

However, we heard today that someone had to leave their job(*) - in Christian ministry - because they had linked to the synchroblogs. Not because they had endorsed any particularly unorthodox views. Not because they had refused to condemn any particularly contentious posts. But because they had linked to a collection of blogs, some of which expressed views that some members of their community couldn't stomach.

This saddens me. It reviles me. It angers me. I feel guilty, humble, and proud. All at the same time. I'm not sure I should feel proud, to be honest, but it's there. I need to unpack it.

I believe that we're doing God's work, here. We're struggling with our faith. Battling. Rejoicing. Of course we're getting it wrong. But we're open to questions. We're open. That's the main thing.

* (added 2218 GMT) - just a note: as you'll see from the comments, it wasn't a paid position, which does lessen the shock somewhat, and David is remarkably calm about it. A very Christian reaction.

Labels: synchroblog, theology

Work, work, work

(backposting) Which is good. Pleased that I'm able to.

I was reading the nativity story to Jo today (yes, I know it's Lent). We got to the birth, and she said: "I love baby Jesus." "That's nice," I replied, thinking how well she's got got the point. Then she said, "I _love_ angels." "Hmm, I thought - fair enough - but not _quite_ as theologically positive." It was when we turned the page and she said, "I _LOVE_ camels," that I began to realise that the theological wasn't top of her list.

Labels: Jo, love, theology, work

Journey through Lent

From Sally's blog: "As we take the beginning steps of our journey through Lent, who would we take as a companion? Name five people, real or imaginary, you might like to have with you as guide or guardian or simply good friend."

• John Calvin: I think he was a fascinating theologian, and is much maligned. I think part of the problem he had was that he had too much faith in human nature. I'd be very interested to spend some time with him talking, debating, and learning.
• Alasdair MacIntyre: I've read some of his theology, and it's very good: really based in the social, which resonates strongly with me.
• William Byrd: for the music, always the music.
• Archbishop Rowan Williams I'd like to talk and debate and pray about the issues of homosexuality in the Communion, and how it fits into the broader picture. I'd take Archbishop Peter Akinola as an alternative, if Rowan's a bit busy.
• Moo: as a Christian: I don't know if it'll ever happen, but it would be great.

Labels: Lent, theology

"So poorly based" - reflections on Christianity and homosexuality

Adam commented on my post the other day on Dar Es Salaam, saying:

I'm not Anglican, but it troubles me deeply that the Episcopal Church in the U.S. is taking this stand against the entire Communion on a matter so poorly based in Scripture and tradition.

I take a different view, as I think is probably clear from other posts. I think there are a few points here. All of this post is, of course, my opinion. I could be wrong on points of fact, and you may disagree with my theology.

First of all, I believe that one of the interesting things about the Episcopal Church in the U.S. is that it is run along much more democratic lines than most of the other provinces of the Anglican Communion. For instance, it is committees who choose bishops, rather than other bishops, and so it's difficult to "impose" solutions on a set of people who are not all ordained, and not "under the discipline" of the church. There are arguments here that lay people may be more prone to being over-influenced by secular society. But the other side of the coin is that if the Holy Spirit _is_ moving through society, then people who are more free of the strictures of a fairly rigid hierarchy (the church), and will be better able to reflect God's revelation as expressed through the wider world.

The second point is that I disagree that they are taking a stand against the entire Communion. There are other provinces - the Church of England, for instance - where the issue of homosexual priests, bishops and lay people is becoming an vexed one.

Third, I don't agree with the suggestion that this is an issue "poorly based in Scripture and tradition". I would say that the view _against_ homosexuality is much less strongly based in Scripture than has generally been presented. And the tradition is fairly modern - there was a much greater acceptance of a variety of homosexual expressions certainly up to the Reformation than there has been until very recently.

Fourth, we should bear in mind that the church is splitting largely down what we could call "interpretational" lines. Those who are of a fundamentalist - or at least literalist - bent tend to interpret the Bible in one way, and those of a more liberal theological background (broadly of the "historical-critical" school) tend to be less literal. Of course, there are issues around tradition, as well: some of those who take a view which foregrounds tradition will tend to take an "anti-homosexual" view. That's the standard Roman Catholic view. But we should be aware that a number of the fundamentalist parties - often evangelical - are seeking to use the homosexual (which tends to be very emotive) debate as a point of contention. It's sometimes less about this particular issue, but more about how the Bible is read. We should remember that there is a broader political agenda (sometimes) at work here.

Last of all, one thing that ECUSA are doing is treating homosexuals with respect and love. Not just clergy, but laity as well. The rest of the Anglican Communion (with a few exceptions) have agreed that they should listen to homosexuals and treat them with love and respect. I don't see that happening. With rare (but heroic) exceptions, the message to gay people - lay and clergy - is that they are _not_ listened to, not respected, and not loved.

And I _know_ what Jesus Christ would have said about the last point, if nothing else.

A declaration

I'm fairly safe. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut until I'm ordained - I've certainly been counselled to do that - but I'm from a "safe" church background, I've got an solid, safe academic theological background, I'm (very happily) married with a child (and one on the way), and I don't even have a family axe to grind. But I care about this, and I hate the fact that Christ's love is not being shown. And I need to stand up.

And there are more important issues. Violence against women, povery, global warming, persecution of Christians, persecution of non-Christians, despair, mental illness - where do you start? Not, for Christ's sake, with what people do in bed.

Labels: church, sexuality, theology

Things to think about

Had a very good supervision with Keith today, mainly about the reports that he and my tutor have written for this year, and what I'm planning to write as my personal assessment. He brought up some really interesting points. It's important, because it's as a result of this process that I'll end up in a title post (which I've mentioned before here). Here are some of the things that came up:

• as well as agreeing that I need to find somewhere with good music, Keith reckons that I should also find somewhere where I can make the most of my skills and interests in the online, as 'twere.
• he feels that my strong theological commitment to justification by faith is something worth nurturing. Although I'm of a liberal bent, theologically, in many ways, my core beliefs are very Reformation Protestant.
• I talked about how important this blog has become to me. Although, quite often, there's nothing theological going on, I do try to keep at least one post a week in that vein, and the opportunities to discuss, swap comments and the rest with others - including the SynchroBloggers - gives me lots.
• I made sure that my answers to some of the questions on the relevant forms - and what I'll say in my personal assessment - make it clear where my sympathies lie in terms of ("dangerous liberal") issues such as women priest/bishops and homosexuals. Although I've been warned off taking too strong a stance on the latter issue until I'm ordained, I'm feeling the need to step things up a little. It's a little thing, but I'm intending to get and wear some sort of brooch/badge to the next ERMC weekend. Just a rainbow. It's more about standing side-by-side, rather than being in people's faces, but it's time to make a little bit of a stand, I think.
• I need to keep looking after myself. I've not been well, and I have responsibilities to my colleagues, my course, my family and myself, not to mention God. Need to keep well.

Labels: blogging, homosexuality, theology

Judaism and mission

(backposting) Had a very interesting couple of sessions today. We had three people - two students, one ex-student - from the Centre for Jewish-Christian Relations. It appears that I was lucky, and got the best session. We had a very interesting and wide-ranging discussion, from the state of Israel to supersessionism (the question of whether God's initial covenant with the Jews has been superseded by the new covenant - or testament - of Jesus: a very fraught question), to questions of appropriate modes of interaction (and/or mission) between Christians and Jews.

Malcolm presented another session on Judaism and mission generally. He raised the question of how we, as Christians, tend to be too hung up on using proselytising for mission, and altogether too obsessed with numerical growth. He wondered whether we should look at conversion by example: how if we live right, people may follow our example. This really got me thinking: our living isn't just at the personal or cell level, but also at the corporate level. The main reason that people who I know give for not being interested in Christianity is that we - Christians - live hypocritically: "how can I take you seriously if you don't even treat women and homosexuals properly?"

A tough evening on the pastoral side: thanks to Sarah for the support.

Labels: ERMC, mission, pastoral care, theology

Christmas and laughter

It's not always easy to laugh, but having a 22 month old daughter certainly helps things along sometimes. She's a big fan of reading her bible in the morning ("Jesus in it"), and this morning, as most mornings, she wanted to read the Christmas story. So we opened it up. "Angel, Mary". We agreed. "What," I asked Jo, "did the angel say to Mary?" "Boo!" she replied. Which probably pretty much sums it up, from Mary's point of view. How she had the presence of mind to come up with Magnificat, given the fact that she'd just been informed - completely out of the blue, by an angelic being - that she was not only going to give birth to a child out of wedlock, but that he'd be God's own son, is beyond me, but all credit to the girl/woman.

They must have been almost at Bethlehem, or maybe already installed in a stable, trying to make the most of a bad job. As a father, I can imagine Joseph, scared witless (think about infant and female mortality rates in childbirth at the time), and being as positive as possible: "it's not too dirty, darling, and I can get some softer hay to replace the straw, and maybe we can use the manger: we'll feed the ox and the ass on the floor, or by hand. At least the animals will keep us warm, and we've got the swaddling clothes that your cousin gave us after their little John was born." And all the time, knowing that the baby was not entirely his. We pay less attention to Joseph than we ought to do.

I'm finding it easier to explore the godly and the theological at the moment. And I don't know why. The obviously spiritual aspects of my life are close to missing, but God provides. Through family, through this blog, through the blogs of others, through the other media, particularly the radio. I have an essay to write, and no idea where it's going to come from, but that's the way of the world. God's world.

Jo knows to say "Amen" now. And "Alleluia", though her pronunciation's a little bit off. We'll take her to carols tomorrow.

Labels: Christmas, Jo, Joseph, Mary, theology