I typed 'perichorsis' into Google images and this is the picture that came up most often. It is a fascinating icon, beloved of many, and whilst I'm not sure how it relates to one year of DPT, I am happy to use it, if only because the concept of perichoresis is one I have come to value greatly.
I have just written a reflection on the year for my journal - it begins
"Much as I get hacked off with having to write all these reflection thingies, and much as this is my own precious free time, I do need to record some thoughts now, because in two year’s time when I have to write them up I won’t remember them!"
In thinking what to share with world, I have deliberately not simply reproduced what I wrote because it is personal, instead this is a new piece that I will print and keep.
It has been a mixed year - parts of it have hacked me off big time, other parts have been great fun, and I have enjoyed the reading, researching and meeting new people. Sitting down and reflecting on it all - what has annoyed me, what has inspired me, what I have (or have not) learned has been a useful experience.
One of the thoughts that strikes me today relates to what David Lyall said about perichoresis - and what he didn't say - and why my project is so immensely difficult for anyone to supervise. In yesterday's stuff I mentioned my own lack of knowledge of systematic theology, the sense of inferiority it gives me, and the fact that I see strength in being aware of one's weaknesses. I think that today I have realised the significance of the fact that my research project lies at an interface between 'traditional' theology (church history) and practical theology (church health). I think there does need to be some sort of 'perichoresis' of the two (and also, by someone, some time with systematics/dogmatics, Biblical studies, spirituality, etc etc) not just a face to face dialogue. But this fact of it itself is problematical - how do I ensure that my work does not simply fall into the gap that currently exists between the two fields? My dad used to have a favourite saying 'he who sits on two stools will surely fall between' - so how do I 'engineer' some perichoresis (or at least bridge the gap) so that this doesn't happen? I begin to realise the unfair task my supervisors face!
My guess is that there must be other people who are trying to play their part in this theological grand chain, seeing how the whole is so much greater than the sum of the parts.
As I begin to look ahead to next year's work, I have one or two ideas that I'd like to explore in a kind of empirical-textual way. James Hopewell in his book Congregations: Stories and Structures does a delightful slagging off of congregational histories as boring. I'm sure he is right, and I also think his assertion that they are lists of names and dates makes them of minimal use as a resource for change. But to argue this, I need to be able to subtantiate it - reading a whole pile of boring histories could, perversely, be quite interesting, as well as supporting my thesis that denomionational level is the right place to find the resources, even of they originate in discrete congregations. However, I think I'd also need to do more work with denominational histories not only to identify more clearly their trajectories and aims, but to see what their limitations are in terms of seeking evidence of process rather than detailed description of outcome.
Of course, time will tell what I end up doing, and I will need to keep at least one eye on the congregational studies side of it all.
So, at times it has been a going round in circles, at times it has been walking up blind alleys, and at times it has been the fun of a dance with the mystery of an icon. It has been an expensive year, costing around 2k if I include books, software, travel and so on but overall, yes, I 'm glad to have come this far...