A Skinny Fairtrade Latte in the Food Court of Life

Today I've been writing my 'John's Portrait of Jesus' sermon, which uses as its its jumping off point the prologue to the Fourth Gospel (John 1:1 - 18).  I had a lovely time playing with my commenatries and even my Greek Testment, discovering the way in which the word 'word' might have been understood all those years ago and how God's word 'does what it says' in Genesis 1 (not sure I'd ever quite grasped that before (no this is not a myth/literal debate, just the idea that a word did more than simply express a thought)).

I had a lovely time finding all the seven signs and (re-)discovering that with one exception (healing the man born blind) they were done without contact, five being by command and the other (walking on water) involving an unpredicated ego eimi (woo, she knows the phrases!).  The power of word as doing what it says shines through.  I'd never before thought about why John doesn't have Jesus making the same physical contact that say, Luke, does with sick and dead people, or even bread, but now I get it (I think).

I got all excited, then I thought about my congregation and realised that I was incapable of expressing this in words - not because they are dense but because it's all a bit technical and far away from their experience.  Then a moment of revelation (hee hee, good Johannine theme) - I have to incarnate what I want to share: the excitement of the word becoming flesh and revealing the glory of God is something I have to try to 'be' on Sunday.

When I was training, one of my tutors after coming to see me preach comented that I was very serious and never smiled - not the person they were used to seeing in college at all.  Well, there were reasons... Anyway, they also said - and it has obviously stuck with me - that I am the face of Jesus people see on a Sunday.  This is part of what I want to get across this Sunday, that (in the words of Paul) "you are the body of Christ" and the word needs to be lived daily so that people we meet may encounter Christ in us.

I don't think the sermon as written is my greatest ever - it has been a slog - but I pray that my excitement at discovering more of the riches of this gospel (which, let's face it isn't my favourite) and another bit of support for James 2:26b will not get lost in translation.

Yesterday I used my narrative sermon based on Luke 14, which seemed to be fairly well received.  For some reason the whole service only lasted 50 minutes (less songs?  shorter prayers?  less interaction in the 'introduction to theme' bit?) so I suggested that people take the opportunity to have a longer chat with each other, and share a little more deeply before rushing off home.

As usual, feedback was nothing and not a lot, but one person said they thought that the sermon was more 'Biblcial' than usual.  I asked if they meant that its style was more like the Bible - i.e. a story - but they said no, then failed really to explain why they thought this.

I am intrigued, because the basic preparation, and my perceived level of hermeneutics (interpretation) and exposition (explaining), was no different from usual.  Was it that the style obscured this - that it was the 'character' rather than me who did (apparently) the interpretting and applying?

I wonder what a 'Biblical' approach to a sermon might be?  To sit down, as a first century rabbi would have done, rather than to stand?  To stir up mutterings in the hearers, as Jesus did?  (Though of course "he read it lovely" as they'd say round here).  To begin 'thus says the LORD' in the style of the prophets?

I'm not sure I have any answers, but it's nice to get compliments, however obscure they may be!

A couple of years back, a friend lent me 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time', and I recall noting the name of the author and thinking, how curious, there was someone of that name in my class for two years at primary school (the third primary school I went to, we moved house twice in six years) and thought no more about it.

Now he has another book out, 'A Spot of Bother' so I decided to check him out via Google - and discovered that he was none other than the person I sat opposite for two years.

I very much doubt he remembers me, but I can (smugly!) remember beating him in practically every subject - the obvious exception being English Composition, I was always better at writing 'fact' than 'fiction' - though he was one of the people who gave me a run for my money, so to speak.

So, I've just ordered his latest offering from Amazon.  Ah, but I remember him when he wore short trousers, played the recorder, 'worked' in the school bank, and had his poems published alongside mine in the Eldean Eye (annual school magazine).  Nostalgia!!

Having our services in the afternoon makes Sunday morngins quite strange.  Often I end up doing church work but summer means life is less busy and Iget to blob around a bit.  Some channel surfing picked up a fascinating conversation that drew me infor a few minutes.  It was E4's 'Big Brother Live' and a couple of people were having a discussion about religion (not a clue what their names were, I don't watch it) one turned out to be a nonpractising Jew from Finchley the other a stripper from Wales.

The conversation was about strands of Judaism, respectfully explained by the Jew, who said 'I'm sure all religions have their own magic' - interesting comment - who clearly had a good overview knwoledge of world faiths and traditions within them.  The other person then said, 'I'd like to be Jewish, I think its a really glamourous religion."

This made the temperature of the 25% of my blood that is semitic rise more than somewhat, but the Jew just smiled and said, really? before going on to explain how she might go about finding our more about what was involved in converting.

I was not impressed by the idea of Judasim (or any faith) as being glamourous.  Was this person really unaware of the 6 million Jews killed in the Shoah?  Was she really so unaware of the difference between culture and faith?  To be fair to her, she appeared quite genuine in her questioning and her comments, if maybe not thought through, were authentic.  Overall it was a positive experience to watch - if interrupted by the bird song they seem to have to play every few seconds.  This was a deeply respectful conversation between two people about questions of faith, culture and lifestyle.  The questioner even felt safe enough to ask if being a stripper would matter, and received a gentle, respectful answer.

I'm not a great fan of these reality shows that seem to thrive on showing people arguing, getting drunk or engaging in sexual activities, but to eaves drop on this little conversation felt like a privilege.  It also gave me an insight into the way that one person, at least, perceives religion, not as matters of faith but as attractive or otherwise cultures.

A bit more channel surfing took me to a discussion about the mooted Mega-Mosque (seating at least 12,000) which was far less respectful, though its participants were all very knowledgeable.  I had to smile at the idea expressed by one person that building a mosque four (or more) times the size of Liverpool's Anglican Cathedral (the largest Christian place of worship in the UK at 3k seats) was about triumphalism - doesn't he know that that's always been the case with churches and cathedrals - taller spires, more seats, more ornate decoration, etc.... Even dear old Dibley had a Baptist chapel for 600 (thin) Victorians when the population was never, ever going to sustain that.

Now, back to the unglamourous business of getting ready for this afternoon's service...

Yesterday I discovered that via the university library I could access a fair number of eighteenth century documents electronically.  What I like about the ECCO is that it does fuzzy searches - probably because spellings vary so much back then (three spellings of the same place name in one document I looked at) but it is so much better than the usual non-fuzzy searches in library catalogues.  Can we now also have seventeenth and nineteenth century equivalents please (a 1% cut on profits would do as a fee for suggesting this...!).

Anyway, tracking down my own congregation in old documents was quite fun.  And nothing, it seems, changes very much.  New Connexion Minutes...

1798 for a certain, no longer formally Baptist but still extant, church reads (spelling changed here to 21st century English)...

"We have erected a new meeting house at [Dibley] which cost more than £300.  We have about £100 to pay; towards the raising of this we must crave the assistance of our sister churches.  Further particulars will be laid before those who encourage us to apply.  Two reasons we just mention here, viz, 1st our old house was too small; and so ill constructed that it could not well be enlarged. 2. our burying-ground was also too small: we had not room to bury our dead.  To which we may add a third reason, the additional was proffered to be given, provided we would erect a new meeting house thereon.  State of religion sadly below the primitive standard, yet we hope we still enjoy the presence of Christ.  Oh! for love to God, and to each other; and zeal for every part of divine truth.

1800, same church ends...

 

NB [this] church is divided since the last Association, and has parted with about an hundred members (among whom are several of our most affluent and active) who are now connected together under the name of General Baptist Church at [Dibley].  Mr Orton pastor

 

Interestingly, the same entry records that service times are usually 2 p.m., 'save ordinance day' when it was 10:30 and they had a church meeting on the third Sunday of the month.  Even after Dibley separated, the parent church preached at six other places.  Speaking for themselves for the first time, Dibley said...

 

We are comfortable, well united, and trust the work of the Lord prospers in our hands; we preach at four places, and in general, are well attended with hearers at them all.

They were not shy, and brought a question to the Assembly...

 

We having separated from [-] church, upon certain conditions proposed and agreed to by us and to them when we were united in one Church; desire to know the opinion of this Association, whether either Church has a right, without consent of the other, to recede from, or alter those agreements, ratified by both, when we were united in one Church.

The answer was one word  - 'No.'  It sounds fair enough, but two centuries on a tiny charity continues to pay each church around £6 per year.  We'd happily wind up the charity, but they, bless them, won't.

So there we are, grotty buildings, precarious finances, feeling comfortable and not seen as ever so spiritual - not a lot's changed!

One of the odd things about being a Baptist minister in this area is the privilege of leading ecumenical services at Center Parcs, Sherwood Forest.  It is an unusual place, having  a proper church and the servcices of a chaplain.  The staff at Sherwood really value this provision, seeing it as something special to offer their guests.

Now Center Parcs has been taken over by a company who wish to replace the chapel with a retail outlet - whether this is a conversion (!) or demolition job I don't know.  The current intention is that services will now be transferred to the cinema.

I have mixed views about this.  I have long since relinquished any special attachment to church buildings - they are, for me, largely functional, the 'sacred space' being something created in the gathering of people encountering the divine.  Worshipping in a cinema or pub or the middle of field is all the same to me.  At the same time, it has been good to know that there was a quiet space at Center Parcs, a place people could just sit and be.  From my own perspective, to have made it a multifaith prayer centre would have been accpetable, if the argument had been over exlcusively Christain provision.  But it wasn't.  It was about mamon.  Why tie up several square metres of prime space in a chapel when you could be selling stuff...

I hope to join many others giving thanks for all that the chapel has meant at a special service on 2nd September.

My own special memories cannot be taken away - the RC couple with whom I shared communion at New Year, the lonely woman who found solace in Eeyore on Palm Sunday, the unashamed ecumencism that transcended left-right high-low labels and the foretaste of the eschatoclogical banquet.  Somethings money can by, but those that matter are often price-less.

Thanks to Jim Gordon's loan of an excellent little Habakkuk commentary, I have now got a couple of ideas for preaching on this short but powerful text.

Although I'd notionally planned on four sermons - and I'm sure there are four sermons in there - I've ended up deciding to have two and then pick another "minor" prophet for the other two weeks. 

In a departure from my usual quasi-expository approach, I think I'll be talking about themes that emerge: week 1 the theme will be "authenticity" - something that is haunting me a bit at the moment - and week 2 will be "theodicy" (or in plainer language, the defence of God, specifically, where is a good God when bad things happen?).

Firstly, authenticity, which, along with something about 'the word became flesh' that I have to preach on first, is rattling around my brain.  The commentary suggested that Habakkuk has echoes of psalms and wisdom literature hinting that it may include or have been a piece of liturgy.  This is quite challenging for us in our nice western Baptist churches, not only do we not do liturgy, we don't do much of this brand of authenticity either.

What do I mean be this?  It seems to me that when we hand in our brains at the door of the church, the token we get in exchange is the 'smiley Christian face.'  Yes, I know both are a parody, but how often do we in our worship do what the psalmists or Habakkuk did?  Just suppose the 'vicar' stood up at the start of the service and said 'dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to rant at God about the unfairness of life.'  We'd assume he/she had flipped because we don't come to church to do that.

On the one hand coming to church is meant to be about worship, so we focus on God's greatness and fidelity, we sing songs/hymns of praise and remind ourselves of eternal promises - we want to be positive and upbeat about faith.  On the other hand, I think it's utterly wrong that we don't express our struggles and questions, because we suppress/repress the realities of lived experience in favour of jolly smiley lies.  Surely there ought to be a place for both?

Playing hunt the hymns (I have to hand them over this Sunday because I'm away for the fortnight immediately preceding the first Habakkuk service) has been a salutory experience - it is mainly in the Victorian hymns that I have found the tension that I want to see expressed. 

In 'O Love that will not let me go' is this poignant verse

O joy that seeks for me through pain

I cannot close me heart to thee

I trace the rainbow through the rain

And feel the promise is not vain

That morn shall tearless be

Of the contemporary songs, the two I think best express some of this authenticity are Matt Redman's "Blessed be Your Name" and from the Nick & Anita Haigh of Northumbria Community "Kyrie Eleison" (Empty, broken, here I stand) which emerged from this couple's horrendous experience.

When my faith has all but gone, Kyrie eleison

Give me strength to carry on, Kyrie eleison

When my dreams have turned to dust, Kyrie eleison

In you, O Lord, I put my trust.

The whole thing about the authenticity theme in Habakkuk is the people of God are called to faithfulness - the 'even though life stinks, yet I will believe' attitude, perhaps expressed best by Job - and a God who is faithful even when seemingly absent.

To go with this means two things - firstly, we can't settle for the smiley Christian parody, which, if this is the token we swap for our brains, means we can't check them at the door either.  This is as well because if we are going to take theodicy seriously we need our brains as well as our experiences... and when I get that far I may post on it.

In the meantime, I am contemplating handing out paper tear drops in the service and asking people to write/draw/symbolise the pain they bring with them to church and which they need to be open about with God.  If we could then start to be open with each other...

Odd title, but I'm pondering...

There is a blog out there running a (spoof) 'driveby Baptisms' competition where people are invited to drive through puddles, soak people and claim it as a baptism.  Well, no, it's not proper immersion, but that's another story.

Normally I would find it funny.  But not this week.  This week I watch TV footage of places I've been, or where people I know live or work, under feet of murky flood water.  Suddenly soaking people with puddle splashes seems quite, well, sick really.

Andy Amoss picks up the some of the tensions that emerge as we observe the suffering of others at close quarters whilst getting on with comfortable lives - afterall, I am in my nice flood-free manse, high(-ish) on a hill able to blog about it all.

I don't want to become a Victoria Meldrew but sometimes funny just isn't.  I recall reading somewhere that what makes humour permissible (or not) is the context - if the joke is told from within a community/context it is OK, if it is about/against it it isn't.  So far, so good, but the driveby Baptism thing is totally outside of flood-soaked Britain, and is a joke within/"against" certain Baptismal traditions.  So maybe the context of the hearer/reader matters too.  If there were no floods here, I'd be laughing along with the best (or worst) of them (even if I think splashing pedestrians is a bad thing; making waves when there's no one to drench is fine).

Maybe it's just a fact of life that one person's funny is another's bad taste?  But maybe it's not a bad thing to ponder it now and then.

This picture is on the cover of UK editions of Paul Fiddes wonderful (if, for new readers of his work, fairly hard work to get into) book on the Trinity.  In the USA they have a nice plain red cover it seems.  I mean, all those naked women well, it's a bit distracting for male pastors, isn't it?!!!!

I have pinched the picture from the web because it captures something of the mystery and energy of the concept of perichoresis as divine dance (seemingly lots of people who read this blog thought "peri-chor-what" the other day when I mentioned it).

So here is my interpetation of it all...

Picture the Trinity as being engaed in a Divine "Reel of Three" (a la Dashing White Sergeant, or similar).  Each member of the Trinity whirls, and is whirled by, the other two as they move around creating wonderful patterns along the way.  Now imagine that the dance turns outward and others are drawn in (a divine lure for process theologians, irresistable grace for Calvinists, free will response for me) and are energised, whirled and twirled by the dancers.  Then they in turn reach outwards to draw in others (evangelism, mission, outreach) in what might be envisaged as a missional grand chain.

The dance whirls on through the great Ceilidgh of history and we find ourselves grasped by those who went before us (who are your heroes of faith?) and spun on again to reach out and touch more and more people...

Are there wallflowers in this Celidgh?  Are we reaching out to welcome them in? 

What's so great about this dance is that you can have two left feet (what a right-handed world this is, pah) or no sense of rhythm and it doesn't matter - it is the energy of the divine reel of three that drives it, the melody of divine love to which we dance and, if a caller is needed, it is the prevenient grace of the God beyond naming.

Today's BUGB News E-sweep says that next week they are starting a 'Baptist Blog of the Day' feature - where's that invisibility cloak gone!!!

I am trying to work out what I feel about this.  Obviously I am happy to post stuff for anyone to read, but there is a sense that blogland is a fairly safe space to play with ideas that might not always sit in the 'main stream' (not Mainstream) of things.  Those who visit are usually very gracious and there is a sense of mutual tolerance and respect for diversity (utterly Helwysian, to coin a phrase: let them be Jews, let them be Turks... let them be heretic bloggers...) but when 'officialdom' starts sending things our way I can't help feeling the dynamic changes.  I am sure that the e-sweep people think this will be an interesting and fun addition to what they offer, and if they send us to the good quality blogs of people like Jim Gordon or Stuart Blythe or Sean Winter, that's fine.  I'm just feeling a bit protective of my twaddle...