So- we remember the beginning of church, through the inspiration of the Spirit of God coming to live in and through us.
If you are local- come and join Aoradh for our Pentecost beach bonfire- Sunday, 3.30 on Ardentinny beach. Bring something to throw on a BBQ, but more importantly- bring yourself!
I saw this clip today- and it hit me with what a wonderful thing the church is- full of hope and good things…
And on a day when Archbish Williams got himself in to some controversy by making some political statements (well done Rowan I say!) here he is speaking about Pentecost-
Here are a couple more snaps of our annex– we are still sorting out a few more bits and pieces (first guests the week after next!) slowed down somewhat by me being flat out because of a back problem most of this week.
I will post a few more when we have completed our tidy up.
It is attached to our house, but totally self contained. Downstairs there is a kitchen (with washing machine), a lounge with an open fire, while upstairs there is a double room, and a room with two bunk beds. I’ll post some photo’s when I get around to taking them!
The annex is within our garden- complete with chickens and veg beds, and a large table and chairs that you are welcome to use should the sun be shining. Which it does sometimes honest!
We charge £250 a week, inclusive of gas and electricity.
I have been thinking a little about this issue again recently- partly because of the film above, but also because sexuality is a subject that always seems to get people in the church steamed up.
The other day, my nephew Josh posted a link on FB to this organisation in America- Truth Ministry- Healing From Homosexuality Through Jesus Christ. Josh was not particularly complementary- and I have posted about my feelings in relation to these ‘ministries’ before- here and here for example.
The root of all this has nothing to do with therapy- and little to do with ministry- rather it is all to do with how we understand scripture.
Father Ray seems a decent bloke- although the film above (despite his stated wish to avoid controversy and upset) was clearly made as a political statement by a man who is not averse to risk taking. It does humanise the debate again though- which is something I am a lot more comfortable with than trying to make rigid theological arguments.
I wonder when this will all be behind us? I think it will be one of those things that we (the Church) will look back on and wonder how we got so steamed up about it all.
Thanks to Graham for this- it hits at the heart of the ‘Christian Nation’ nonsense, at a time when the worlds only superpower is starting to decline…
America stands in a long line of previous Empires who employ Jesus as a military-industrial figurehead to justify all sorts of things that are simply incompatible with any understanding of what Jesus died for. From Constantine to Queen Victoria.
Above is an image of fragment p52– first half of the second century after Jesus- a credit card sized fragment of the Gospel of John- possibly dating from less than 50 years after the book of John was written.
However, we do not have a complete book of John until hundreds of years later. How many copies of copies of copies of copies were made before P52 came into being? How many since? How many different language barriers crossed? How many different cultural contexts mixed within?
A couple of hundred years ago, John Mill looked at 100 early manuscripts written in Greek- 30.000 places where the Greek texts differ from one another. Most do not matter- accidental mistakes by scribes. Leaving out words, verses- even pages.
Some matter rather more- some appear to be intentional variations from the copied text- where the text appears to be changed to match with a developing theology. The changes get rid of potential problems in subtle ways.
Does any of this matter?
Well if you are a follower of Jesus- YES. Even if you are not- it matters too, as the building blocks of so much of our culture were made from understandings (or sometimes misunderstandings) of these scriptures.
Christians from my tradition were schooled in the idea that the collected works of the Bible are the inspired complete and sufficient work of God. The writings are reliable, and contain no contradictions that we are not capable of coming to some understanding of, given the correct interpretive goggles.
The problem, of course, with this way of interpreting the works of the Bible, is that it is all or nothing. The Bible is either the BIBLE, or it is nothing. It is either sacred, or it is worthless. We are back into the range of what Richard Rohr, and others, calls the error of ‘non dual’ thinking.
But other Christians will point to a different way of understanding scripture- as a gloriously imperfect set of writings that record the attempts of people to engage with a mysterious Living God, and to live in the ways of his son Jesus. In these writings, we see mirror images of ourselves, and saturating the whole- is the love of God, and the call to adventure in the cause of the Kingdom of God.
In this understanding- it is not either or- but both-and. The books of the Bible were written by people whose work was inspired by engagement with the Spirit. But they might also contain elements that are flawed, partisan and from a cultural and historical context alien to ours. The writings might well have been shaped by translators and copyists over the years- because they were always invested with such meaning- or employed to support a meaning that may never have been there in the first time. Some of this shaping is subtle, and may even have not been intentional.
This debate is contained really well in this debate (the voice seems to be out of sync with the images though!)
I recently confessed to a leaning towards what I would describe as a more human origin in the authorship of our scriptures- and how accepting this is not a negation of these writings, but might also bring a sense of release and freedom from an ill fitting straight jacket of legalistic religiosity. Most of this was in relation to a reflection on the Old Testament passages that I had found so difficult. How about the works that record the words and deeds of Jesus?
Because this is even more important for we, his followers.
So- here is my current take on these things too…
Jesus is described in the book of Peter as a ‘Stone to make men stumble and a rock to make them fall.’ This possibly applies more than anything to our religion- given Jesus’ intolerance of the rigid doctrines of his day. Therefore we might expect our religion to be tripped up by- Jesus. And out religion is often codified by our interpretation of the Bible.
The New Testament is a collection of some outrageously revolutionary books written by early seekers after the New Kingdom. They did not get it all sorted. They were not God-parrots, but God-seekers.
Our role is to test scripture, as well as to be tested by it. We are to be not passive receivers, but active engagers, listening for the voice of the Spirit, and paying particular attention to the life and examples found in the stories told about Jesus.
All scripture is USEFUL- said Paul. He was not able to say ‘essential’ in the same way as others understand it now- as much of it was not yet written in his time. Which suggests yet again, that we might sometimes be guilty of over emphasis- even idolatry.
But it remains our starting point, our rudder and our trampoline.
We were up and away on the 7 AM ferry because Michaela, Emily and Danielle participated in the Race For Life which took place on Glasgow Green- a 5K run/walk in aid of cancer research. Michaela walked- taking around 40-50 mins, Emily and Danielle ran and took around 25 mins. Well done!
It was a bitter sweet moment- as everyone running had the names of people on their backs- survivors and sufferers of cancer, and people no longer with us. We remembered most Michaela’s step father Robert whose died just over a year ago.
Unfortunately, whilst standing around and NOT running, my back suddenly went into spasm. It may have been some kind of empathetic response to all these thousands of exercising women, or it could have been associated with a hard day of DIY the day before.
I managed to hobble back to the car and take a handful of pain killers, but our next destination was Edinburgh, where Will and I were due to play a cricket match against a Royal Botanical Gardens Cricket Club side- an old fixture between our clubs, competing for our own little ‘Ashes’ urn.
When we arrived I could not get out the car- but I then did manage to free up a little- and being the first match of the season that has not been rained off, I was really keen to play, so out I went. Movement helped, and I managed to send down a few overs of arthritic wrist spin- 4 overs, no wickets for 12 runs. Beat the bat a few times, took an edge that was missed.
On the whole we got tonked- they rattled up 176 off 40 overs.
I went in to bat at number 4 with 40 odd to our score- not looking good. I blocked out the pace man whose tail was up and then took guard against a spinner, eyeing up a short boundary. I let the first one go by, but then had a go at the second- a bit of a stiff-back swing at one that kept low and under edged on to the stumps. Out. Blast.
William went in at number 6- and fared rather better! He looked very small- the youngest player by far. Campbell was batting well at the other end, and had a chat between each over- instructing Will to block out the bowlers- which he did, for around 5 overs- finishing with one run, but a whole lot of respect from the opposition! Even if he did put his Dad to shame.
We lost by the way- making around 120 all out.
Finally, we met my brother Steve, his wife Kate and wee Jamie and went for a meal- before catching the last ferry (midnight) home.
This morning we all slept in- kids late for school. I can barely move, so my plan to go walking with Simon is done for. But it was a good day. Full of good people.
I spent today repairing and painting the door to our annex, along with a load of other jobs today.
We are slowly improving the annex- it has been used for longer lets over the past few years, but we decided that it would be good to offer it for use as holiday accommodation.
I put up a TV aerial too,so we could install digital TV- it is strange how installation of television somehow makes a place feel more established- more home like…
If you are looking for accommodation in the West of Scotland, then you might be interested in in our cosy annex.
The area around where we live is stunningly beautiful- check out the Visit Cowal website. Or check out some of the photos on my flickr site (on the left of this blog.)
It is attached to our house, but totally self contained. Downstairs there is a kitchen (with washing machine), a lounge with an open fire, while upstairs there is a double room, and a room with two bunk beds. I’ll post some photo’s when I get around to taking them!
The annex is within our garden- complete with chickens and veg beds, and a large table and chairs that you are welcome to use should the sun be shining. Which it does sometimes honest!
We charge £250 a week, inclusive of gas and electricity.
I have spent a lot of time over the last year or so looking forward. Dreaming of new things, hoping for new directions, making little steps towards…
I am not sure where it has left me- there are a few balls still in the air that I am juggling- but it has left me a little short of energy for NOW.
I am am a dreamer- a looker towards the far horizon. When things happen for me, I am often not fully satisfied- partly because I am too critical of things I have done, but also because I tend to continue to look at things from a certain distance. There is the me who is here, but also the me watching from over there.
This will make sense to some of you- others will think I am bonkers.
But as anyone who has spent time in any kind of therapy will tell you- the measure of its effectiveness will be the degree to which we are fully present- fully within the moment.
As anyone who has tried to live a contemplative/spiritual life will tell you- cynical objectivity is no route to any kind of enlightenment.
So one of the things I try to consciously put myself to is an awareness of NOW. Some things help me do this- Michaela, poetry, wild places, music with Emily, cricket with William.
But I all too easily lift my eyes again- the horizon is calling. It is not that I do not love the things/people I live with- it is just that there is this pull towards something else- even when I struggle to define what this something else might be.
Today has been a case in point. I spent a lovely day with Michaela- she had to go to hospital for a scan, and so we took a drive to Balmaha on the shores of Loch Lomond and became tourists for the afternoon- walking in the bright sunlight, eating ice creams.
Days like these- moments like these- are precious.
The story is splashed across the news- a private hospital, run by Castlebeck (an organisation I know reasonably well) was visited by an undercover reporter, and in 5 weeks, abuse was captured on film that beggars belief.
Support workers behaving like a mob, led by a tattooed gang leader, using casual violence to whip up incidents to relieve boredom.
Vulnerable people treated like cattle. Punishment masquerading as restraint. Cold showers, dangerous physical restraint, a total lack of meaningful activities.
Anyone watching this who has not spent time in institutional care will wonder how on earth something like this could happen. Anyone who has will feel both sickened and yet unsurprised.
The culture of any institution can easily skew towards the darker sides of humanity- as demonstrated so notoriously by Zimbardo’s Stamford prison experiment. Some things will make this more likely-
Poor leadership- in this case the senior nurses appeared passive, weak and complicit with the worst abuses, even if not active participants. Leadership in this case needs to set deliberate agendas of care and kindness- as well as deliberately placing the people cared for at the centre of everything that happens.
Poor recruitment/retention of staff- in this case, Castlebeck pay support workers paltry £16K a year, and I suspect had a very high turn over. Those that stayed became affected by the toxic culture. The best would not stay.
Poor model of care- why on earth we still need places like this is beyond me. I have made some placements to other Castlebeck institutions- they are incredibly expensive (around £3000-£5000 a week) and are often a placement of last resort for people who we have no other way of keeping safe. When things get this far it simply means that we have failed. Castlebeck and other organisations like them are care factories, with profit margins carefully squeezed. They have high sounding mission statements, but little incentive to invest in real change for people they care for.
Poor alternatives- the cost of care is so high, and every where local authorities are being forced to cut budgets. Because of this, community based options are hard to find, harder to finance and tend to be oversubscribed. So we are forced to consider Castlebeck- often because other options have failed, and we have no choices left.
Poor regulation- I have seen inspection reports and care commission reports describing in glowing terms establishments I would not send a dog to. Reports that focus on trivial matters such as the condition of curtains rather than the more difficult to measure atmosphere of warmth and cheerfulness that the best places exude. In Scotland, the care commission has been reduced- in size and effectiveness.
I have had my own experience of working in toxic situations. They are not so uncommon really- for all of the above reasons. Here are two examples-
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My first job was in a Childrens Home in Nottinghamshire- since demolished. It was a violent, scary place- with riots, abuse and physical restraint commonplace. The Officer in Charge was a powerful woman who ruled the place (staff and residents) with her fists. I was 21 years old, fresh from studies and had no idea what I was letting myself in for. I vividly remember carrying a screaming, biting swearing scratching 10 year old boy to his bedroom in an attempt to calm him down, and throwing him onto his bed. He was not hurt in any way (whilst I was covered in scratches and bruises) but I was mortified at my lack of control, and how acceptable such things could become in environments like this. It was time to get out- which I did as soon as possible. I was very relieved when the home closed shortly after I left.
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Fast forward a couple of decades, and I am now a social work manager, visiting a resources allocation meeting in another area in order to try to gain access to some funds for a service user we are working with. The room was full of about 7 other people- senior member of health and social work, who have the responsibility for making decisions about how to allocate funds. The atmosphere was sneering, cynical and disrespectful of ever person discussed- each of whom appeared to be regarded as a scrounger who was trying to pull a fast one. I was so appalled that I raised the issue with my line manager in supervision- a mistake as it turned out, as he ignored the supposed confidentiality of this discussion and used it to fight his own political battles, leaving me to deal with the damage to professional relationships. And nothing was changed.
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When we are paid to care for other people, we can easily lose sight of the fact that people are beloved, beautiful and made in the image of God. It becomes hard to hold on to our values and our passion.
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It becomes hard to remember that the greatest we can aspire to is to love. Particularly in the drudgery of it all. But without this, we are lost.
Perhaps the greatest problem with Winterbourne and places like it, is the fact that wider society places such little value on the care that is provided, and on the individuals it is provided to.
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So- well done BBC. May this bring about some real changes.
I was listening to a discussion about ‘adult faith’ the other day- Richard Rohr and Ronald Rolheiser.
They were talking about how faith develops and changes over the course of a life, suggesting that most of us are pretty black and white (‘conservative’ in Americanese) at first- and in fact, we ought to be. It is important to decide where we stand, what we believe and who we are going to journey with.
But if spirituality is a journey home- then what? What do you do when you have formed your place of home? Do you just relax and play spiritual golf?
Or do you constantly replay the first-half-of-life journey? Rohr suggests that many Christians and many churches do just this- we play the same cycles of guilt/angst/truth/significance games. We continue to get caught up in comparing ourselves to others to find our own place of ascendancy- both as individuals and groups.
Rohr told a story of some old priest who said that he spent the first half of his life wrestling with the Devil- all that struggle with sinfulness- but as he got older, he described spending the second half of life wrestling with God, which was much harder. He started to ask questions, and encounter those things called mystery and doubt.
All this reminded me of many recent conversations with friends- including Paul, who told me about Fowler’s stages of faith development. The account as described on this link is all a bit mechanical- Paul told it better, so I am going to create my own version made up a bit of a mixture- some of Fowler, some of Paul and a lot of my own experience.
So, it goes something like this. I am not sure however that I would regard these stages as necessarily linear and progressive in nature, I wonder if we all move between different ones, whilst operating mostly out of one. Neither would I necessarily see these as a hierarchy, with the last one being superior to the others- although ultimately, we are all pilgrims, going home (wherever or whatever that might be.)
Primal faith
The world is a big and scary place- and if our primary need is for warmth, shelter, food and the security. The need for God is almost like a need to believe in the coming of spring during winter. So we make the God we need-from wood and stone if need be, or from individual portable components taken from the understanding of others. God is an invisible puppet master, or fairy god-father; mostly benign, but sometimes unpredictably wrathful and punishing. So we look for rhythmics patterns in the world about us, and transmit our hopes and dreams onto what we see.
Literal faith
The world is full of things that are RIGHT, and things that are WRONG. God is the bringer of justice- and is commissioned into a kind of faith that is made up of clear black and white boundaries. We, his followers, are active in our mapping of these boundaries, and in categorising those who lie outside of them. We then set up brightly lit gatehouses and invite those on the other side to travel through- in order that they might become just like us (right.)
Conventional faith
Safe within our boundaries, the question is- what next? We are ‘right’, but are some righter than others? Our task then becomes to conform. To homogenise. Faith as a journey is less important than faith as a process of ‘maturing’ spiritually- measured in terms of external conformity to the conventions of the religious institutions we belong to.
Reflective faith (crisis of faith?)
Is that all there is? Many of us find ourselves struggling with old certainties- re-examined by life. Faced with people whose experience challenges ours, or circumstances of suffering and loss, what had seemed so concrete is now revealed to be full of cracks and holes. Some seek to fill in these holes with remixed plaster- to make the whole seem whole again. Others pick at the cracks and overeemphasise them, alongside all the solid stones that they are embedded within. Some lose faith entirely. Others decide that the boundaries that seemed so secure need to be transcended.
Universal faith
By this, I do not mean necessarily faith that has no boundaries, no certainties- but for many, once the old ones become undermined, we have a reluctance to build new ones. We become captivated by the open, generous possibilities of the God of Mystery. Some call it enlightenment, but I think a better description is ‘being open to the falling of new light’. WHAT we believe becomes less important- as does the need to defend and protect what we once held as being ‘right’. Rather, let us become pilgrims again- heading towards as much as ever arriving. Grateful for company, and givers of hospitality.
this fragile tent 