William is 10 years old on this coming Thursday- and today we had a party in the garden.
This year the theme he chose was ‘sport’- so we had a tournament. Each guest took the name of a country and then built up points playing football, cricket, basketball, archery, ‘pin the ball on the footballer’, obstacle course and good old pass the parcel with sport related forfeits.
And I think they (and we) enjoyed every minute! How many kids parties can you say that about?
The other day William got to handle one of our garden visitors in these parts…
Don’t worry- I was not letting my son cuddle up to a snake. It is one of the lovely slow worms- which is actually a kind of legless lizard. They eat all sorts of things that you do not want near your vegetable patch, so they are doubly welcome here.
But it got me thinking about this-
“And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”
Mark 16:18 (although only in the later manuscripts.)
Mad.
Stark staring bonkers.
And yet, to anyone who has been part of a fundamentalist subculture- weirdly logical.
Who was it that said something like ‘Football is not life and death- it is more important than that’?
World cup mania is upon us. All over the world ordinary people are seized by a kind of quasi-religious madness. National flags are being festooned on cars and out of a million bedroom windows.
Apart from Scotland it seems. Here the national tone is driven by the fact that our national team did not qualify for the competition- through perennial inconsistency and an ability to snatch defeat from the brink of victory.
But the other overwhelming feature that dominates Scottish football is sectarianism. It is only possible to worship our team if we hate our main rival. And hate has a full spectrum- from a kind of fixed sneering prejudice right through to outright nasty violence and murder.
At club level, this has become mingled in with religion in an overt way- the Rangers/Celtic Protestant/Catholic stuff, which is a shameful stain on both football and faith.
At national level, this same process can be seen in the vitriol reserved for that old enemy- England. It is an instinctive, self perpetuating and self sustaining reaction- constantly re-enforced by repetition and peer pressure and sanctioned by school teachers, politicians and ministers of religion.
Of course, this is not just a Scottish phenomenon. After all, most great religious movements require the dual polarity of good and evil to drive passion and zeal. However, there is something particular Scottish about its application. It has becomes mixed with a thousand years conflict, of wounds both felt and dealt and of a kind of selective history that nurtures old enmity and perpetuates the possibility of more blood being spilt in the future. Is it possible that football has allowed us to ritualise these divisions in our national make up? Has it become a vehicle for the passing down of prejudice to the next generations?
Does this matter? Well I think it does. I believe that we Christians are called to bring blessing and healing to our communities- to be the embodiment, the demonstration and the very channels of peace.
Because we believe in the power of forgiveness.
And the call to love our enemies.
To be in this world, but not of it- which means that we are prepared to go against the cultural flow.
And the challenge to confront our own motives and motivations honestly before the God who knows all.
So here is a provocative challenge to those of us in Scotland who ascribe to this way of being. (I hope it does not get me into too much trouble!)
I want to invite you to participate in the spiritual discipline/practice of…
Supporting the English football team during the next world cup.
(If you are English- substitute ‘German’ for the word ‘England’.)
And if you think I am just being provocative and English- know this. I am simply not that much into football. My first allegiance is not to a flag, a country or a democracy, or clan. It is to a King and Kingdom.
Some Aoradh folk met today for our monthly time to eating a meal and worshipping. 18 of us sat around our garden table- including some of Michaela’s family who are visiting from Nottinghamshire.
As ever it was great. We ate, laughed, the kids played and danced.
And it was Paul’s birthday! Hope it is a good year…
After the meal we spent some time thinking about setting out on new journeys- letting the wind of the Spirit blow- and remembering the old practice of peregrinatio.
To help us visualise this, we made paper boats, wrote prayers on them, and set them sailing on the Clyde. Watching them disappear out on the mighty river was magical. We hope this compensates for the little bit of extra flotsam (or is it jetsom?) that we added to the old river.
We read some poems, and a prayer together. I loved this- borrowed from Mark Berry (here)–
Three loads I carry as I walk,
Three packs I balance on my back.
Each one I meticulously packed,
Each I carefully stowed and strapped down hard.
Not one I felt I could leave behind,
Not one could I do without.
Three weights I feel dig in my shoulder,
Each one present and distinct,
Pulling me in different directions,
Making my way harder than it seems,
Causing me to miss my step and trip,
Yet often they feel as one,
So tightly are they bound together,
So long have I carried them.
At times they feel alien jabbing and ripping me,
At times they are part of me.
They are things of great value to me,
Things that make me who I know I am,
Things that give me place and time,
Things that though at time they give me pain,
Are me.One great sack carries all I hold of worth,
All that I think I love,
All that I hope never to lose.
How could it be possible to leave this bag?
I could no more cut off my arm or leg!
This I bind closest to me,
I wear it next to my back,
This load gives me stability,
It sures me when I feel feeble.
It is my frame, yet still it is heavy.One carries all my certainty,
That which I have no doubt is ordained.
In each part a word or thought,
A prayer or poem which gives me purpose,
It is what keeps me on.
It holds my map, my itinerary.
How could I abandon all this,
For whom should I walk,
Which way should I go,
How would I know, how could I be sure?One load binds all three,
It wraps around the other two,
At times holding them,
At times pushing them sharply into my skin.
My fears I carry in this last bag,
My fear of losing the others,
My fear of walking alone,
My fear of being lost.
My fear of being pointless,
Of going nowhere, of being no-one.But,
All this speaks of me; my loves, my faith, my fears.
My scale of what is valuable,
My sense of what is good and right,
My insecurity.
I am content in each step and yet I count each mile,
I want to pass, to savour each view,
To go the places I could not plan to visit,
I want in each to leave something of me, something good behind.
Somehow, I don’t know how,
I know I must risk leaving parts of me by the road.
I must give up my load,
Lay down my pack.
Not in wild abandon,
But in faithful surrender.
A year or so ago, I put quite a lot of energy into trying to find connections with other individuals and groups that were involved in similar para church activities as we were- other people who might use words like emerging/missional/alternative worship.
To this end, I started a Facebook group, set up a few meetings, and began to make contact with some lovely folk.
Stewart then started a Ning site, which has seen some activity, and has over 100 members. There have been further meetings, and on line discussions. However, Ning are changing the way that they operate, and will be charging people to use their sites soon.
The question then arises- what next?
I thought I would reproduce my recent comment on the Emerging Scotland Ning site here. Any comments/ideas/thoughts welcome…
Hi folksI have been thinking a bit about the site, and what we might be its future…I started the facebook site a – which is here..Activity on the FB site has kind of dried up- perhaps because we replaced it with the ning site, but also perhaps this is a natural progression of all on-line networking. We tend to start well, and make some connections, but then move on to other stuff. The net tends to pull us constantly towards the next ‘new thing.’.There is a danger that the site becomes just a place to argue about theology- which quickly becomes boring and pointless for most of us, even if important to others..There is also the real question as to whether the ’emerging’ word still has any currency. It still might be something that enables people to gather around a vague set of questions- but increasingly, it is not a term that people are using. I am not sure what might replace it though- Missional? This word always seemed a little contrived to me..When I started the ES FB site, my hope was that we might see the development of a supportive ’emerging’ network in Scotland- facilitated by on line stuff, but not exclusively on line. This was partly about our own needs here to find partnerships, mentoring, encouragement, and cross-fertilisation of ideas, but also an idea that developed out of a number of conversations with others. People described isolation, and a lack of freedom and permission to do things differently..I hope and believe that this has been happening through some of the connections made through Emerging Scotland, but to be honest, I still wonder whether we could or should do this better.This rather depends on whether there are enough of us that want to do this- I know that many are busy with churches and organisations, and feel that they have more than enough networking, and perhaps no time/energy for more..However, if people are still interested in developing physical connections, then I would propose that we put a little more energy in developing some local meetings- as already began to develop for a while. A few ideas that occur to me ‘off the cuff’-.1. a meet up at SOLAS for those going there in a couple of weeks (some of us will be there on the Saturday?)2. specific interest meetings- worship, youth work, community building3. Developing partnerships around activities- sharing skills and resources4. Joining other networks- such a Emergent, or CMS.5. Setting up some kind of loose administration/facilitation process-or asking an established organisation to host this for us.I think the bottom line for me is that if we move to facebook, and the current low level of activity continues, then it would be no bad thing. I will probably call in from time to time (although I rarely use FB these days.) However it will be a missed opportunity- and I suspect that Emerging Scotland will kind of atrophy..Those of you who blog or have access to other information portals, perhaps it is worth broadening the discussion and asking people to consider what they need?.CheersChris
What a lovely day.
A house full of friends and family all day- people calling in, people coming to stay, food shared, music played…
The old house feels once again like a place of welcome and refuge- a kind of oasis- which is what we always wanted for our home.
By way of contrast, Dunoon has been a rather scary place over the past few days. There has been a murder, a serious road crash involving young people racing cars, a woman jumping from an ambulance and, more comically, the theft of an expensive yacht by a couple of drunk and bungling thieves. This resulted in a police search, and the millionaire owner taking off in his helicopter looking for his boat- only to crash into Loch Long when he found it (thankfully only sustaining minor injuries.) The police found the boat, with one of the would be pirates fast asleep in the scuppers!
As my mate Andy would say, the combination of sunshine, cheep booze and too much time on people’s hands is rarely a good one, and he should know as he has spent a lot of time trying to clean up the aftermath.
There is this contrast all the time with we humans- the beautiful creatures that we are, who are capable of doing such dreadful things to one another, almost on a weekend whim…
I wonder that we are surprised.
In my garden there is a tall tree, in which two magpies have built a nest. Over the past week or so, the branches of the tree have been the site of a battle between Mr and Mrs Magpie and a large black crow, who has been constantly trying to get into the nest and carry off the young chicks. For a while the Magpies seemed to be holding their own, despite one of them losing most of its tail feathers. But today, a half eaten chick lay on the ground.
It seems so cruel- but then it is a jungle out there, and birds need to eat.
All the more reason for us to hold to a different path, in the way of the Kingdom of God…
And to rejoice in the welcome and hospitality that we receive and give.
I started a new thing today.
I love the beginning of new adventures- the chance to allow new things to unfold.
This one involves a commitment to meet with my friend Paul on a regular basis, and spend some time doing some deliberately spiritual practices, and writing about them. The idea is that we take a few hours and walk into the wilderness, talk, think and meditate.
On a bench.
This was today’s bench, in the hills above Dunoon…
Today we used one of my favourite psalms-
1God, I’m not trying to rule the roost, I don’t want to be king of the mountain.
I haven’t meddled where I have no business
or fantasized grandiose plans.2 I’ve kept my feet on the ground,
I’ve cultivated a quiet heart.
Like a baby content in its mother’s arms,
my soul is a baby content.3 Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope.
Hope now; hope always!Psalm 131 (The Message)
As I reflect on these ancient words, I am concious of a soul that is not content, and a heart that is unquiet.
I am puzzled too as to what things David was writing about that were ‘too great’ for him (at least in the un massaged version.) He was a king after all- but perhaps a king all too aware of his failings.
And I wonder whether I really want to stop dreaming grandiose plans- it is part of who I am. I kind of believe that our dreams should lie just beyond our grasp- just outside our comfort zones…
But in all of this, I am so aware that I need to hold on to hope.
Hope for life lived in communion with good friends.
Hope for life that is rich and deep and saturated with the things of God.
Hope for life that measures it’s meaning not by a kind of success that rots the soul.
Hope for life that is life-giving to others.
And in awareness that in this life there are no guarantees- no easy short cuts. But there are moments when what has been grey can become saturated with new colour.
Like today, on this bench…
Will competed in the local inter school sports event today- representing his school- and much to our (and his) surprise, he won 4 (yes FOUR) silver medals!
Today’s offering from my faithful radio travelling companion- radio 4- was a discussion about one of the earliest surviving images of Jesus, which was the subject of a wonderful programme called ‘A history of the world in 100 objects‘.
This image was discovered not in Israel, or in Rome, but rather in the unlikely environs of Hinton St Mary, Dorset, by a local Blacksmith in 1963. It was laid down as part of a mosaic floor around 350 AD to decorate part of a building that some say was dining room, others believe may have been a chapel. It is a crude image, existing alongside pagan images of characters from Roman mythology, Bellerophon killing the Chimera. The idea of putting images of Jesus on the floor that we could then walk over was outlawed soon after- but by then the Romans had abandoned their colony in far off Britain and pulled back to warmer climes- which is how it survived.
The image dates from a time around 40 years after Roman Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, and suddenly a faith that had been persecuted and forced underground became the state religion- and so the powerful and affluent began to wear their faith like a badge of success and favour. Western culture (and the church) has been struggling with this unholy allegiance ever since.
The image sets me thinking about how we come to develop an image of the face of Jesus. We have no contemporary descriptions- and the only thing approaching a description in the Bible comes from long before the birth of Jesus in the words to the prophet Isaiah…
He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
Isaiah 53:2
What we are left with are images (like the one from Hinton St Mary) that arise out of a particular context. The face of Jesus is then employed as a means of somehow making more real our own ideas, hopes and prejudices about him. They mirror our failing, fumbling theology…
The rich traditions of iconography are deliberate about using such images as part of Spiritual discipline- something that has always been rather alien to my slightly colourless Protestant background.
(The oldest icon of Christ Pantocrator,encaustic on panel, c. 6th century (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Mount Sinai).)
The tradition that I come from does talk a lot about ‘The face of Jesus’ however- often in the context of rather sickly choruses. Here the face of Jesus in conjured up as a kind of shining radiant king looking down in love from on high.
For the rather unimaginative chorus writer- ‘face’ also conveniently rhymes with ‘grace’…
A much better example of this comes from one of my favourite Christian songwriters- Mark Heard, who sadly died in 1992. Here it is-
If I ever get to see Your face
And if You will spare me
I know that my allegiance to the human race
Will not ensnare meIf I ever get to know Your mind
And I survive it
I’m sure that I will leave a way of life behind
I won’t revive itLord, You know I need Your love so bad
I hardly even have the strength
To take Your handIf I ever get to hear Your voice
And I can take it
I’m certain that I will listen
To the better choice
And I will make itWritten by Mark Heard
© 1981 Bug and Bear Music
We are just back from the Proclaimers gig in Dunoon Queens hall. Ears still ringing.
A night with the Proclaimers is a peculiarly Scottish affair. They stand and deliver, lyrics half sung, half shouted- all in broad Scots. But there is a tenderness and thoughtfulness despite the style of delivery…
I wonder my blood
Will you ever return
To help us kick the life back
To a dying mutual friend
Do we not love her?
Do we not say we love her?
Do we have to roam the world
To prove how much it hurts?
When you go will you send back
A letter from America?
Take a look up the railtrack
From Miami to Canada
Bathgate no more
Linwood no more
Methil no more
Irvine no more.From ‘Letter from America’
So in the old story I’ll bet that I came
From Gael and Pict and Angle and Dane
And a poor migrant girl who could not write her name
It’s a common old story but it’s mine just the sameAll through the story the immigrants came
The Gael and the Pict, the Angle and Dane
From Pakistan, England and from the Ukraine
We’re all Scotland’s story and we’re all worth the same
Your Scotland’s story is worth just the sameFrom ‘Scotland’s story’
The whole night was a kind of tease- leading up to the orgasmic rendering of ‘I would walk 500 miles’- which has become a kind of Scottish unofficial anthem.
I kind of like this one though…
this fragile tent 