V and A post modernism exhibition…

Interesting discussion about the old P word on R4’s ‘Start the week’ this morning- relating to a new Victoria and Albert Museum exhibition of all things post modern (defined as between 1970 and 1990.)

Post modernism is a term that has rattled around the edges of so many ’emerging church’ conversations and so if it was not quite so far away I would go. Emily is going soon though with school…

Here is the blurb on the beeb-

Once described as “the Swiss Army knife of critical concepts”, Postmodernism is one of the most slippery, fragmentary and contradictory of movements. At the Victoria & Albert Museum’s new exhibition, an angular Grace Jones vies for attention with a pink granite skyscraper and David Byrne’s over-sized suit. Forged as a challenge to the orthodoxy of modernism, its style revolution came to the fore in the 1970s and 80s. The co-curator, Jane Pavitt, argues that although postmodernism is now dead, its irony, exuberance and subversion have left a lasting legacy in the world of design.

I enjoyed the discussion this morning- a few things stood out-firstly the curator, Jane Pavit was describing the early architectural movement as being almost obsessed with ruined buildings, broken things and post industrial industrial degradation. Almost as if in chewing on the END of modernism, it had to be endlessly picked over.

‘Like we have done to all things church’ I thought to myself.

The next thing that stood out was a critical voice asking a familiar questions as to whether post modernism was ever really any different from modernism- just a reformulation of the same old same old.

‘Like the whole emerging church idea is in danger of becoming’ I thought to myself.

Finally, the question was asked concerning what next? Post post modernism? The view expressed on the programme was that now all bets are off, all things are possible, and there are no uniform categories possible.

‘What does this mean for church?’ I thought to myself.

Hmmmmm.

Aoradh worship gathering…

 

 

(An old photo of one of our gatherings.)

We are just back from our monthly worship gathering with Aoradh. We had planned to use a larger space this week, as people had expressed a desire to sing. That old fashioned, uncool kind of worship from the 80’s and 90’s- you may remember… (More on this later.)

In the end we used Andy and Angela’s big lounge, and we had power points reflections, music, communion, sharing and lots of other simple but lovely things- oh and we sang too. All the elements of our worship were collected in the moment- prepared by different people, but it all fitted together remarkably well.

Then, as is our way, we ate. Lots.

To meet with such lovely people and worship is such a blessing. There are times to look up, to look in and to look out. Today we mostly looked up, but because we did this together it was all the more special.

To finish, we pinched a blessing that Jonny mentioned that Grace had used recently- a lovely one by John O’Donahue. We cut it up, and circulated it, asking people to read the one they had chosen, and to take it away as their own words. I ended up picking up two- the ones highlighted below.

May the blessings released through your hands
cause windows to open in darkened minds

May the suffering your calling brings
be but winter before the spring

May the companionship of your doubt
Restore what your beliefs leave out

May the secret hungers of your heart
harvest from emptiness its secret fruit

May your solitude be a voyage
into the wilderness and wonder of God

May your words have the prophetic edge
to enable the heart to hear itself

May the silence where your calling dwells
foster your freedom in all you do and feel

May you find words full of divine warmth
to clothe others in the language of dawn

May your potentiality be released
to explore new horizons of what’s possible

May your becoming bring gentle surprises
as you remember you’ve not arrived

A man needs a beard…

I am now about a month into the cultivation of something new for me- a beard. (No the photograph above is not of me.)

It is not much of a thing really- I do not have the nerve to go all ZZ Top. And it is decidedly grey or ‘silver’ as I like to call it.

But it is my own.

Changing your appearance like this after 44 years of a smooth hairless jawline is quite disturbing- but in a good way I think. It kind of marks another one of those life transitions, the passing of young man into- well slightly less young man. Oh all right- middle aged man.

There, I said it.

And it is really not so bad. Sure, I have a bad back, knees that sound like a bag of bones as I climb stairs, tennis elbows and the odd wrinkle or two, but today I spent a day with my lovely family- cutting grass, making bread, stacking logs and dodging showers. A day framed by rainbows and towering clouds, all the more lovely for a sense of something precious-  the drawing towards the end of summer. Days shorter, but still lovely. Evenings requiring the lighting of a fire, but perhaps the central heating can wait a while longer.

Michaela is ambivalent about the beard- she has always said she hates them, but I think she secretly likes mine.

Or perhaps it is just that she too feels the change in the seasons.

Thanks to the Unthanks…

Or perhaps un unthankyou (to torture a double negative.)

One of my highlights of Greenbelt festival was listening to The Unthanks– a totally surprising feast of gorgeous harmonies and instrumental arrangements.

And clog dancing.

I had heard the sisters Rachael and Becky sing before- and to be honest, despite being a lover of folk music- particularly of the northern British kind- I found it a bit too woolly-jumper-finger-in-the-ear. I could appreciate the history and the connection to something lost, but not quite be drawn in to the music.

I got round to ordering their recent album ‘last’-

This album combines lots of lovely things- wonderful songs, simple but sweet vocals, string quartet, guitar, piano- and the combination is beautiful.

‘Save me’- religious reality TV…

Saw this the other day- still not sure if it is a hoax.

Volunteers might have just missed the deadline, but you never know- drop him a line…

The bloke behind all this is Jim Henderson (no not that puppet bloke- his name was Henson.) I liked what he claims as his ‘mission’- 

The Three Practices of Otherlyness (the Way of Jesus.)

• Be unusually interested in others

• Stay in the room with difference

• Refuse to compare my best with your worst

Quite how this will work out on TV remains to be seen. Not sure it will ever air on British TV anyway- if it comes to a screen over there- let me know!

Which does bring to me again the question of the Great Commission for we followers of Jesus. Most of the Christians I know have given up on selling religious product- in fact, perhaps we have gone in the opposite direction entirely. Refreshing then, to read this via Jim Henderson’s blog- 

The old paradigm of presenting a case and demanding a verdict just isn’t working anymore (and nobody is doing it anyway). So what DOES work? And how can we get more people engaged with the process of spreading the Gospel?
Here’s what I’m banking on these days: Listening. Hearing their story. Finding out what God has been up to in their life and (gently) calling their attention to it. Becoming a safe person for others to share their doubts, fears, anger and distress with regarding life. And then, in that kind of context, being asked to share YOUR story (which is simply what Christ has done in your life), and in that context HIS story (as simply as you can). An invitation to follow Jesus may or may not fit that initial conversation. But we should be ready for it just in case, I think.
So, I am suggesting we give up the obsession with making converts and start getting serious about calling others to join us as disciples (students) of Christ. That process is messy, hard to “count”, and unpredictable. But I think it’s more like what Jesus was asking us to do in the “Great Commission”. So the short answer to your question is, “Quit doing that. Make disciples, not just converts.”
Yes, I think I can go along with that!

Blog the Koran day- on women…

To commemorate the 10th anniversary of the terror attack on the World Trade Centre, I am joining Andrew Jones (aka TallSkinnyKiwi) in blogging a passage from the Koran.

I do this not in any way to disrespect the memory of all those people who died as the towers burned then collapsed but rather to open up a window through which we might seek to understand one another better.

Since 2001, America and her allies (above all, my own government) have unleashed war on whole nations, kidnapped, unlawfully imprisoned, tortured in reaction to the violence of a few Islamic terrorists. In doing so, they have created a culture of fear and revenge. To those who follow an Islamic faith all this seems like another unholy crusade. The end result is a classic feedback loop- one action creates a reaction which in turn creates a reaction and so on.

For many in the west, every Muslim is another potential suicide bomber and the Koran is a ticking roadside IED.

Except most of us have never read the Koran; we certainly have not  tested it through scholarly engagement. Perhaps most of us never will, but on the terrible anniversary of the attack on the twin towers, being open to engagement with the hopes, dreams and ambitions of the ‘other’ has never been so important.

I have been doing a little reading of An-Nisa, the 4th chapter of the Koran- dealing with the issue of women- their rights and obligations, outlining the requirements of modesty, including the verse traditionally interpreted to require wearing of the hijab. I encounter these things as a white Christian male with little real insight into the culture or theological issues, or the real experience of women across the Muslim world.

The way some parts of the Islamic world regard women is one of those things that we in the West find most difficult to understand or tolerate. It appears to amount to God-sponsored and state-enforced oppression, particularly when these understandings are allied to fundamentalist interpretations of the text.

(We Christians are familiar with these kind of interpretations of course- we still have our own voices calling for hat wearing seen-but-not-heard child bearers who know their correct place of subservience.)

It might be of interest to remember that according to tradition, Muhammad was married either 11 or 13 times. However, his first marriage lasted 25 years- he married his employer, the 40-year-old merchant Khadijah. It was this marriage that appeared to release Muhammad to follow his calling- it was foundational to the development of an entire faith.

This marriage destroys any idea of submissive, invisible, powerless women. Rather, the very beginning of Muhammad’s ministry was made possible by his allegiance to a wealthy, independent female merchant. In many ways, the writings in the Koran might be understood as a means of protecting and enhancing the freedom and rights of women within the cultural context that they were written. Does this sound familiar to those of us used to trying to grapple with the writings of Paul in the Bible?

Even accepting this, there remains the question of what might constitute freedom in terms of gender relationships NOW. There was all the fuss recently about the (scandalous) decision of the French to ban the wearing of the Hijab in public. I think that ultimately, these are not primarily theological questions, rather they are cultural-political ones.

These verses are my portion from the Koran-

“Men are the protectors and maintainers of women, because Allah has given the one more (strength) than the other, and because they support them from their means. Therefore the righteous women are devoutly obedient, and guard in (the husband’s) absence what Allah would have them guard. As to those women on whose part ye fear disloyalty and ill-conduct, admonish them (first), (Next), refuse to share their beds, (And last) beat them (lightly) (leave them [3]): ; but if they return to obedience, seek not against them Means (of annoyance): For Allah is Most High, great (above you all).”

These verses are troubling and disturbing to our ears. If we read them with no understanding of the context that is, or the stories of the life of the man who wrote the words.

Holy words are encountered through the lens of faith used to examine them with. Conservative Islamic scholars will clearly have a very different understanding than liberal Muslims, or Feminist Muslims. From a human rights perspective, we might hope that these latter voices are strengthened, but this is a debate that we are on the outside of and ought to be cautious for that.

What we should avoid are black and white conclusions filtered through prejudice. It is easy to condemn all of Islamic teaching based on a cartoon of the Taliban. Just as it is easy to dismiss all Christians as fraudulent tricksters based on Jimmy Swaggart. Stereotypes can not survive encounters with real flesh and blood.

Only then might we seek to protest injustice wherever we encounter it- although perhaps we should always start with our own stuff before leaning into others.

I think I will finish be quoting a poem by and unknown author, relating to freedom. It is a poem which seems to be well known in the Moslem world. I quote it because it seems to me to ask some interesting questions about freedom- because we in the West worship our own version of freedom- or some would say the illusion of freedom. We enshrine it in all our philosophies- our politics, our economics, our gender relations.

‘Freedom’ is something we will kill others for, and send our young soldiers to die for. Our freedom is something we would enslave others to preserve.

What does ‘freedom’ mean?
Does the eagle want to swim in the sea,
Restricted by the sky?
Does the fish want to dance on the wind,
Not enough river to explore?
Yet the sky is freedom for the bird
but death for the fish,
The sea is wide for the fish
but will engulf the bird.
We ask for freedom but freedom to do what?
We can only express our nature as it was created.
The prayer mat of the earth is freedom,
freedom from slavery to other than the One,
Who offers an shoreless ocean of love to swim in
and a horizon that extends to the next life,
Yet we chose the prison and call it freedom.

History of here…

Our house, circa 2003

We have just had a lovely couple of days with my brother Steve, his wife Kate and little Jamie. Lots of sillyness and laughter, too much food and not a lot of sleep. I only wish my sister could have been there too- but life has thrown us all into a complication of geography and distance.

This morning we intended to take a walk through Dunoon, but it was lashing down with rain, so we went to Castle House museum. I have only been once before- years ago- and we were wondering whether they would have any information about our house- who lived here previously, what it was used for etc.

Because here is where we are, and being fully here seems to me to involve an appreciation of connection- with family and friends now, but also with who has been here before us.

I discovered today that behind where we live there was an Episcopalian church- made of corrugated iron, which eventually burnt down. And a little further back into the woods is a mound that was thought to be a Roman Fort.

What we discovered about our house turned out to be a little more than we expected. Maps of the plot of land before the house was built, old land records listing the details of the person who built it, a Robert Donaldson, who seems to have been an instrument maker from Glasgow. We need to go back to dig a little deeper into the copper plate records, but another thing we discovered is that our house used to be a ‘nursing home’- not in the sense of elderly care, but rather a place where people went to give birth to babies, or to recover from illness. It was called ‘St Margaret’s nursing home’ and there are people alive today in Dunoon (and elsewhere) who were born here.

Scratch the surface, scrape back the paint and peeling paper, and there are whole lives laid out before us. The hopes, aspirations, triumphs, disappointments and tragedies of those who used to be here, but now are elsewhere.

It is humbling, but also makes me grateful.

(Not least as this week, Michaela and I have been married 21 years!)

Julian of Norwich was a gardener then?

At least it would seem so according to todays minimergent meditation-

Live it

Be a gardener.

Dig a ditch,

toil and sweat,

and turn the earth upside down

and seek the deepness

and water the plants in time.

Continue this labor

and make sweet floods to run

and noble and abundant fruits

to spring.

Take this food and drink

and carry it to God

as your true worship.

 

— Julian of Norwich, 

(c. 8 November 1342 – c. 1416)