This is (metaphorical) thinking out loud. 

This evening I half watched the Florence Nightingale dramatisation on BBC1, whilst completing a 'difficult' sudoko or two.  Whether this is a female multi-tasking approach to relaxation or just proof I'm stark staring bonkers I wouldn't like to guess.  What really struck me was how 'shot through' with God language the whole thing was, and how much blatant spirituality, if not theology, lay behind the story as told.  Needless to say, as I am pondering the potential for a more explicit writing of 'God' into denominational history, this broke through my stupor and got my grey cells whirring gently.

Obviously, this was a dramatisation under a broadly 'entertainment' banner, not an attempt at serious history or serious theological reflection, but it was based on Florence Nightingale's own journals and letters, so it had a solid basis in historical documents.  It was also biography - or autobiography - so to skip over the religious elements would have been to ignore a large chunk of Florence's self understanding.  Maybe it is more OK for biography to simply report the 'God stuff' than it is for history?  But there some big themes in there - about how one discerns God's will, about the permissibility or otherwise of human frailty and failure, about how God responds to prayer.  They weren't explored, they were simply laid open for the viewer to consider - or not.

So, if it is OK for (auto)biography to explicitly use God language and to explore, or tiptoe round the edge of, theological themes, then why not religious history?  I think there are lots of complex things to consider and combine in some way, shape or form.  I accept fully that historians have no independent of means of verifying whether God did or did not act/speak in a certain situation and therefore can't use blatant God language, yet as people like Paul Fiddes have suggested, sometimes we just catch a glimpse of God's back - something that a few theologies of history concede may be admissible, albeit having ruled out other explanations.  But - and here's where the boundaries start to get somewhat fuzzy in my muddled little brain - if 'history it a set of stories we tell about ourselves' (Rowan Williams) and if this is something about us being part of the story/stories as well as being shaped by it/them, then it has some sort of (auto)biographical character and maybe should be a bit more overtly 'Goddish'? 

Is there maybe some sort of continuum from autobiography via biography to family history to community history .... etc so that there comes a point when the spiritual dimension ceases to be something that a writer is confidently - or competently - able to express? 

Also, (I'm on a roll now!) what is the relationship of biography to oral history?  Presumably there is some sort of fuzzy boundary between the two?  If, in recording an oral history, people attribute actions or experiences to divine agency how does the historian then handle this?  And are more people like to talk of God's involvement than they are to write about it?

What intrigued me about the Florence Nightingale dramatisation was its post modern refusal to tell the viewer what to do with the image of her that had been portrayed.  We were left with the traditional Lady with the Lamp (as expressed via musical comedy) juxtaposed with her own sense of failure and guilt (coupled with a degree of collusion in not making public some of the findings).

Going off at a complete tangent, I was intrigued by the dramatised conversation with the nun who was recruited to go out with Florence to Scutari.  If this was an authentic portrayal of practical ecumenism all that time ago, it is a sad indictment that we have not moved further in a century.

I don't think any of this will help much with what I need to be writing at the moment, but it is all grist to the mill, and suggests that just maybe I am on to something worthwhile in what I am trying to achieve.

This is a question asked by my non-Baptist supervisor on reading my essay.  It's a good question - why does it matter?  We think it does (or we think it doesn't) but do we think about why?

From my perspective as someone who is pretty committed to being a Baptist, it does matter (though twenty years ago I'd have said it didn't).  It matters, I think, maybe more in our post everything age, and perhaps especially in a Christian tradition where local autonomy and freedom of conscience are foot stamplingly defended. 

It matters, for example, because we are a tradition that affirms the ordination of women but respects the freedom of local congregations not to allow women to hold preaching or teaching roles.  It matters because we see ordained ministry as having a translocal element (we are accredited by the Union) and that somehow creates a tension with congregational autonomy.  If we are to handle this tension well we need to understand ourselves and how we came to this strange situation.

It matters, for example, when ministers transfer in from other traditions - perhaps because they have shifted their views on Baptism - and bring with them, subconsciously the baggage of another tradition in which, for example, governance is not congregational.

It matters , for example, when individuals come from other traditions - perhaps because of a congregational fall out or perhaps because they like our worship style better - because they (as I did when I was part of a Methodist church) assume a whole heap of things that just aren't so.

But, is this enough of a reason for it to matter?  Does it help or hamper mission?  Was Jesus a Baptist?  No, (old jokes notwithstanding) he was a Jew.  I think that I think that it matters (yes there are two 'I think that's there) because I need to know who I think I am in order to be able to critique that.  How can I comment on the strengths or weaknesses of being a Baptist if I don't actually know what a Baptist is?  I do, like many others, cringe at the expression 'Baptist DNA' because I don't really think I know what it means.  I like 'Baptistness' better because, I think, it is a little less determinist (I don't think that needs -ic on the end) in its intent.  I'm not really sure there is 'Baptist DNA' - we are too interbred with ideas pinched from other traditions and ideas, and I think that is a good thing (everyone knows that to much inbreeding makes for mental incapacity.. Hmm.  Discuss!) but we do still, at least officially, hold to some central principles.

All of which gets me no further in addressing the comment on the essay, but does make me wonder what other people think.  So, why does denominational identity matter to you (or not)?

This morning was going to be a productive time as I worked through the comments on my essay and turned it into something so much better than it currently is.  But after an hour and a half failing to rewrite one paragraph, two cups of coffee and 50g of extremely dark chocolate I am no further forward.  The grey matter is clearly very dull today.  So I have opted for plan B which is to do some reflecting on the whole thing - which is one of the things I'm meant to do anyway.

The first observation is that the comments are really helpful, but it strikes me is that one of the threads is about style of writing, and how what I'm now being asked to do is what I spent four years being told off for doing!  If I'm honest, what I'm now being asked for is more the way I have traditionally written - tell them what you're going to tell 'em, tell 'em, and tell 'em what you've told 'em.  But for four years I was told 'remove all this connective stuff' or 'you don't need to to explain what you're going to do next.'  I find I am more bemused by all this than I would have anticipated.  Having adapted to one set of demands, it isn't so easy to change back even to what feels 'better.'

Related to - or maybe intrinsic to - this is 'know your audience' and this is tricky too.  Just who am I writing for this time?  Is it the group of Baptists who will be the ultimate recipients or is it the university for whom it is a requirement?  This creates a strange kind of tension in the writing, because the same piece of work has to serve two different functions and two different audiences.  What I can 'take as read' in one context I can't in the other.  Allied to all this is that this piece is meant to be part of greater whole, a portfolio of work that will ultimately demonstrate (or fail to) a level of competence as an academic researcher.  How much should it 'stand alone' within that and how much can it implicitly build on or draw from the work of last year?  In other words, how much can it 'take as read' in the context of the portfolio?  In the end, I think I am going to have explain stuff that in the context of the overall project ought to be able to be taken as read, simply because a unique piece of writing can't assume the reader has a clue where I'm coming from.  I find myself wondering quite what the university is measuring here - is it solely the quality of my argument or is there some recognition of targeting a piece at a specific audience who requirements may be other than those of the marker? 

There is something here, I think, about writing within a 'community' that relates to what I'm trying to research (and makes me think I should have opted for scientific research where I didn't have to ask this kind of questions in quite the same way).  I am wanting to challenge something about what seems to taken-for-grantedness in the audience and aims of writing denominational history, but I need some sort of taken-for-grantedness in which to be able to express my thoughts - no wonder my grey matter is so dull!

I think that somewhere in what I've written is a reasonably good essay trying to get out, but that lots of factors are conspiring to make that difficult to achieve.  There is more to it than trying to find a writing style and a target audience, and there is more to it than me being tired, not having much time or not the world's greatest wordsmith.  There is also a whole heap of accumulated/assimilated stuff that conspires to undermine.  There are the comments of some that 'practical theology' is not real theology, that if one could do 'proper' theology (by which I assume they mean dogmatics/systematics) one wouldn't bother with this stuff.  On top of this are comments that a professional doctorate is 'taught' and 'not really a doctorate at all', that it is easier than a real PhD and somehow lesser.  Different, it seems, is not an option.  I begin to gain a glimpse of how teenagers feel when my generation dismisses GCSEs and new style modular A levels.  When you work hard to do the best you can within a given system and with unique constraints, the last thing you need is someone else to demean the end product.  So when the words aren't flowing, you can feeling triply fikk.

I am really enjoying my work (even though the literature review last year was a bit of a drag!) and am learning lots of new things along the way.  I am enjoying working with a Anglican historian and a Baptist theologian, as each brings different insights and questions to my work.  I am enjoying finding out new information (the sort of 'banking' stuff that is sometimes disparaged by pedagogy people).  I am enjoying using my brain - even on the days it is very, very dull.

I am told most post grad students live in perpetual fear of being 'found out' for the frauds we believe ourselves to be.  When I hear 'real PhD' students talking about their work and reeling off complicated ideas I become the more aware of my own limitations.  When I talk to ordinary 'people in the pew' about what I'm doing and they seem to get it, I feel reassured that the important 'edge' of practical theology - that it relates to real people who don't have a whole string of letters before/after their name - is there in some measure.

Probably this amounts to several hundred words of self indulgent waffle that would better have been confined to a private folder.  But then I wonder, how many other people there are - competent, hard working, and some with amazing natural intelligence - who might actually benefit, as I do periodically, from hearing seemingly strong people admit to their struggles or insecurities?  One of the justified criticisms of Christians is our fake cheerfulness, of saying we are 'fine' when we are in fact Feeling Inadequate, Needing Encouragement.  My grey matter does feel rather dull today, and I still need to sort this essay into a better form before it can be submitted for marking. but I also know (i) that I remain convinced it is work worth doing (ii) that those who offer comments are 'on my side' and that (iii) if I'm honest, and with my past track record, I am capable of producing a decent essay!

This is a secondhand plea for help!

A friend of mine has rung to ask if I have a version of 'Spirit of God unseen as the wind' with more verses than (or different verses from) that in BPW/Sing to God/Mission Praise/Common Ground etc.

I have the Margaret Old version several times over and have found a version with two different verses by someone called Richard Irwin online, but nothing with more than two verses and chorus - my friend recalls it having 'loads of verses' - can any of you wonderful people help?  I have looked in all the above plus SOF/H&P/HTC/Youth Praise and my friend has tried cyber hymnal.

Thank you in advance!

I have a Sunday off this week then two weeks of relatively normal services, then an outreach event, and then a clear enough run for a couple of short series interrupted by a couple of joint services and such like before my summer hols (three weeks far away from church....).

I have been 'haunted,' in a good way, by the song 'Pretty Amazing Grace' and was very struck by watching the Radio concert with Neil Diamond via some 'press the red button now' thing on my freeview box.  During the course of said concert, he clearly attribute his singing ability to God's gifting (that's used correctly as verb by the way, in case anyone is checking).  I have also been been contemplating quite a lot how whenever the word 'justice' or 'judgement' pops up in the Bible the word 'mercy' is never far away.  Somewhere out of this has emerged the idea to explore these themes a little more in the next couple of services, one on grace, the other on mercy.

My big challenge is picking passages to preach on, and the lectionary is not proving too helpful (though grace does get a brief mention the first week in the Epistle).  Anyone out there got any thoughts?

Flipping through BPWs 'God's grace' section I came across a rather dated children's hymn which seems to have something useful to say about these two themes...

You can't stop God from loving you

Though you may disobey him;

You can't stop God from loving you

However you betray him;

From love like this no power on earth

The human heart can sever;

You can't stop God from loving you,

Not God, not now, nor ever.

final verse of You can't stop rain from falling down, John Gowans (c) Salvationist Publishing Supplies Ltd

 

Coupled with the likes of 'There's a wideness in God's mercy' and 'By gracious powers so wonderfully sheltered' I am anticipating a couple of weeks of singing some good theology, however simply expressed.