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Sounding the Divine
–
a sequence of theological poems and reflections
And where
do we start? Perhaps, like Barth, with the thundering Word of God; perhaps,
like Bultmann, with my personal existential experience; perhaps with a Marx=
ist analysis
of injustice. But I think we must start with questions and wonder – w=
hy
are things the way they are? How did everything come into being? It is not a
matter of answering these questions, but they might cause us to stop and th=
ink,
to stop pursuing the restless hunger of our desires, to begin to confront t=
he
perplexities of existence; not as an intellectual exercise but with everyth=
ing
that we are – soul and spirit, mind and body. It is here that theology
and poetry embrace – I wonder what the child of their intercourse will
be?
Yes,
phenomena can be counted
can be
described and analyzed
and felt
in the magic of thoughts and words and touch
But
lingering still
like,
perhaps, grandma's perfume in her widowed room
is that
uncertain question
Why?
Why
things?
Why
things and not just nothing?
Traditionally
these questions have led us towards God and this is still the case in many
parts of the world, but nowadays in the West we often, perhaps normally, tr=
eat
God as ‘a hypothesis I do not require’. That is we consider God=
to
be something which might restrict my personal freedom and therefore an idea
which is best marginalized, stigmatized or even entirely obliterated. In the
meantime God and those who take God seriously are useful scapegoats for all=
the
problems of the world ‘we are not the cause of our own suffering but =
God
and all ideas about God’. This is lyrically expressed in John
Lennon’s anthem to hopeless naivety ‘Imagine’. Despite th=
is
contemporary suspicion, I still find myself returning to God as the best
foundation for human life, for in this way I can take responsibility for my=
own
failures and inadequacies (or if you like sinfulness) and still have hope t=
hat
there is a better way, and that life is ultimately meaningful and worth liv=
ing.
It does not seem to me possible to acquire absolute certainty in these matt=
ers,
but we can, perhaps, acquire some wisdom and learn a way of life which util=
izes
scientific insights but also values the deep history of humanity and our own
lived experience of daily life. In this way we might be able to walk towards
the virtues of goodness, beauty, love and truth even while not always remai=
ning
within their gracious ambience.
In these
meditations I seek to put into words my own sense of God. As someone who se=
eks
to be a Christian and walk in the way of Jesus, the Christian tradition
naturally underlies everything which I give voice to here, but I also write
instinctively and explore my understanding of the God who enables me to find
life beautiful and meaningful. The underlying Christianity is perhaps most
obviously expressed in the movement towards love as expressing the fundamen=
tal
nature of God; in the Christian tradition and in my own experience God can =
only
be meaningfully encountered through and in love. The meditation on God in
mystery and wonder must, therefore, move towards a Christian outworking of a
life lived in love, for this is the hope and purpose of the life God create=
d.
God is the beginning before the beginni=
ng
the end of all endings
the source of being and life and love
Out of nothing something burst into bei=
ng
out of being life evolved
and the purpose of life is to learn how=
to
love
The mystery is why loving is so hard
why we turn to death so quickly
in order to solve the paradoxes of love=
But love, true, earthy love cannot flou=
rish
without a life which is evolving
without a being which is birthed in fre=
edom
And therefore love is God’s final=
gift
for the one who freely began the beginn=
ing
must be the one to consummate the endin=
g
in the gentle explosion of love
From this visceral, intuitive sense grounded in=
the
Christian tradition I find myself contemplating the nature of God and the w=
ords
we use to describe God. These are necessarily metaphorical and allegorical =
but
I think as we push and explore them we can gain some useful insight into the
nature of the God whom we are seeking and reaching towards. In particular we
encounter the extraordinary insight of Christianity that God is Trinity, th=
at
God is relationship: a relationship within God, a relationship with us and a
relationship with the whole universe of creation.
God
the Creator
who has been known as Father
or better Fatherly-Mother
Imagined everything into being
or, if you like, hammered it into existence
or birthed
or caused it to evolve
but
(and this is the thing)
not alone
There was the Son who, perhaps, danced
and there was the Spirit who, perhaps, sang
and the Relationship
imagined everything into being
I find this understanding of God as Trinity
essentially simple. It is not an abstruse calculation by academics, but a
simple and deep insight into the fundamental nature of things and I have fo=
und
myself experiencing it simply and profoundly in the natural world and the
ordinary passing of life.
I was
sitting on the hot rocks
Down by
the Mediterranean
Drinking
up the Sun
Like Life
itself.
Beauty
all about me:
Sea such
a blaze of blue
The
island shimmmering like dreams
And no one
near me, no one
All
around just Trinity
God in
total unity
Spirit in
blue sky
Beneath
Creator
And
Jesus, just silent - everywhere
Down by
the hot rocks
Near the
blazing sea
Drinking
up the Sun
Like Holy
Communion Wine.
And perhaps
we need to keep exploring our images and pictures of God – to push be=
yond
the conventional, to retrieve the forgotten and reimagine God in the images
which resonate in new ways within our longing hearts
If God is
not our mother
how can
we be born again?
How can
we be 'born of the Spirit'
if we do
not enter into the womb of the Spirit
if we do
not emerge,
screaming,
out of
our God-mother
into the
dangerous world?
And if we
do not feed at the breast
of our
God-mother
how are
we to be nurtured?
Are we to
drink some artificial milk
concocted
by men?
Or are we
to slurp greedily at the divine breast
huge and
brimming with the spiritual milk:
growing
healthy and strong
into the
men and women
we were
born to be?
It is a
commonplace of anti-theist discourse that religion and ideas of God are hum=
an
creations. I find this quite a helpful idea and have little doubt that all =
our
religions are essentially created by men (and it normally is men) for their own purposes. But I=
do
not see this as a negative thing, for my experience is that for all the
failures and disappointments of religions they do have the capacity to take=
us
into interesting and necessary places, to be, as it were, a ladder up to he=
aven
or a mine into the treasures of the spirit. That is we reach towards God:
lifting up our heads, peering into the deepest ground of our being, stretch=
ing
out our hands to our brothers and sisters, breathing the sweet air of creat=
ion
– and it is in doing this that we open ourselves up to the God who is
coming towards us with welcoming arms and fiery love. Religion might be an
unsatisfactory and sometimes difficult and distasteful thing, but it also p=
uts
us in a place where we can encounter God and so reach out into the full
possibilities of our humanity
We make God
Construct a useful being stronger than
ourselves
But subject to our prayers and sacrific=
es
Who needs us
To feed and water his theocratic majest=
y
Or, perhaps, her maternal generosity
Until the Prophet,
Our child, nurtured by our ritual
Fed at the shrine of our superstition
Guesses the more-than-God
Not just my provincial enforcer
But the beginning-beginning, the
beyond-beyond
Who remakes my religion
Turns it against me
Makes me question the greed by which we
created God
Seeing
That if God is good and,
Strange, but electrifying thought, lovi=
ng
Then everything changes.
I touch not my God
But the unimaginable Divine
The not-God
The yes-God
The irresistible for which my greed yea=
rned
And I find life
The thought beyond thought
The feeling behind feeling
As it was once said
I discover the image
In which I was made.
Or, perhaps, to put it more simply
We create healing stories
stories of hope
stories of faith
stories of love
Stories which mean
that the world can be known
that there is sense
that love persists
And in the pattern that emerges
in the colours woven
in the lives drawn
discover the great Surprise
that we call
God.
For me
the question of God always comes back to Jesus. In fact it might have been
better to have started this meditation with Jesus rather than more abstruse
ideas and feelings, this is certainly where my theology began and became al=
ive.
In fact my observation is that a belief or interest in God seldom makes much
difference to a person’s life unless it is rooted in an encounter with
Jesus or some other coherent religious tradition. Not that Jesus is easy.
Despite repeated attempts I have never been able to establish a fixed pictu=
re
of Jesus in my mind. On first reading the Gospel accounts seem straightforw=
ard
enough, but the more I read them the more difficult it seems to either pict=
ure
the character of Jesus or fit him into any particular box whether that be
contemplative mystic, revolutionary prophet or eschatological preacher.
Nonetheless Jesus is always intriguing and often compelling and if I want to
make sense of God or my life I always find myself drawn towards Jesus.
You can do God
uncreated
impassable
all-knowing
or the process in the worl=
d
nurturing
creative
fecund
But, in practice, it is be=
tter to
start with Joshua ben Joseph, better known as Jesus, being
practical
earthy
a human being
who builds a scaffold
to Eternity
That is, it is in Jesus th=
at the
idea of God begins to make sense for it takes shape as something we can
understand – a human being. And this human being takes our most cheri=
shed
ideas and convictions and reconstructs them into a new vision of what it me=
ans
to be human
I did not
want peace
for my
body wept tears of justice
longing
for the wrongs righted
and the
meek made strong
I did not
want peace
I chafed
at the cosy contented harness
longing
for the sparkling eye of freedom
and the
adventure of the turbulent way
I did not
want peace
having no
need for the easy grace
of a gospel
which made no demands
as it
smoothed my way to heaven
But then
I saw the tiny infant
and the
stamp of his petulant foot,
the eye
sparkling with danger
and the
long climb to the terrible cross
And knew
at last the whisper of peace
in my soul,
troubled and stormy
So in
seeking God I am suggesting that we look towards Jesus, and in the search f=
or a
spiritual path I suggest we might explore walking the Way of Jesus. It is t=
he
whole teaching and life of Jesus that is important and I believe that offic=
ial
western Christianity has tended to underplay the life of Jesus in its
concentration on his crucifixion. And yet I find myself drawn time and again
back to the visceral reality of the cross, for as I contemplate it I find m=
yself
drawn into an encounter with God – a God whose love is so intense tha=
t it
needed to be expressed in the flesh of a human body which knew defeat, fail=
ure
and death
We realized that there must be a God
That was as clear as sunlight
But God's nature?
But =
span>God's name?
But =
span>God's gender?
That required construction
And it was found to be useful
Could justify merciless acquisition
Could keep women and children and the lower classes in their place<= o:p>= p>
Could build temples touched with genius
It was all very convenient
Until that God
Artfully constructed
Manicured and idolized
Broke loose and became before our startled eyes
A baby
A child
A human being
Practicing mercy
Distributing grace
Prophesying universal equality
Crucifixion was the only answer
The crucifixion is, however, not the sole centre of Christianity
although Western Christianity has typically constructed its theology in this
way. It is not the crucifixion which builds a bridge between humanity and G=
od
but the whole life of Jesus that restores creation and unifies the universe=
There was a kindness in th=
e death
After anguish, gentleness<= o:p>
After insult, respect
And placed in a stone tomb=
:
No pauper's grave, no pit<= o:p>
Only the sweet smells of t=
he
garden,
The serenading of bird son=
g.
Yes, in the end, beauty le=
d him to
rest
Love wrapped him
Peace bound him
As the tomb swallowed her =
brief
guest
That is the crucifixion of=
Jesus
leads into the resurrection. The cruel historical reality of legalized murd=
er
by torture leads into the event which entirely changes history. For the
resurrection is not just something which might or might not have happened a=
s,
for instance, Caesar crossing the Rubicon or the murder of Archduke Ferdina=
nd
by a Serbian plot but something which changed the nature of reality. No lon=
ger
is history sliding into inevitable disintegration and disappointment, but it
suggests that beyond unavoidable death there is a new life waiting to be bo=
rn;
that there really is hope and that this is a hope which can transform the w=
ay
we live today
They had locked the door
A small boy had been posted look-out in the street below
James had fitted two heavy bolts to the thick door:
It might give a few extra minutes when the soldiers called
Finally an escape route had been planned:
out of the back window
across the roof of the baker’s
down into the crush of the swirling streets...
Many reasonable precautions had been taken
But it proved inadequate to in anyway
hinder the arrival of the Lord of Glory
However he came gently
In a crippled body
With the merest breath of wind
And with peace on his lips
For the strange events recorded in the final chapters of the Gospels
change everything and make everything much more uncertain. Previously life =
was
a grim but predictable struggle against the reality of death which might be
passingly enjoyable but ultimately rather meaningless. The resurrection
introduces a new imagination into the world, an imagination which if we emb=
race
it can fill life with joy and wonder
They tried to kill him
suffocate him under scorn
terrorize with scathing words
mock with scandal and derision
crucify
nail
and torture him
but
he would not die
he could not die
or rather died
(buried lifeless in the scarred earth)
and
rose
rebirthed
resurrected
resurrected <=
/span>in flesh
resurrected=
span> in lives of loyal friends=
resurrected=
span> in the imagination of a w=
orried
world
The story of Jesus’s passion is unsettling. Not everyone, hav=
ing
heard the story, embraces the joy and possibility which it unleashes but the
whole world has been unsettled by the appearance of this new imagination wh=
ich
suggests that everything is not as it seems to be
Why is the cross leafy?
Why does out of death, life spring?
Why does the path of wisdom always lie through suffering?
Why is the way rocky?
The path steep?
The mountain top radiant with the sunlight and the grass scattered =
with
the miraculous flowers?
Why is this the way life is?
And not the ideal city
The beautiful equation
The perfect sphere
Why has it emerged out of the rocks with squirmings and turnings and
multiplicity and everything unlikely?
Why is the cross leafy?
Why the raising terrible and full of fear?
Perhaps it is the very
mysteriousness of the life of Jesus that leads me to want to find Jesus in =
the
particularity of whatever context in which I happen to find myself. In these
two poems I seek to imagine Jesus in two very different contexts – fi=
rst
that of the urban London where I lived for 25 years and secondly that of the
Sussex Downlands in which are to be found my family’s roots.
I follow
but it is hard to keep the track
Round corners
Down alleys
Always in the most unlikely parts of to=
wn
On the hills it is easier
I can see him from miles around
But here it is always glimpses in the c=
rowd
Decisions at crossroads
Sight lines obscured by buildings
and encroaching buses
I follow the Urban Christ
but to the CCTV he is invisible
and of traffic lights he takes no notic=
e
But he is at home here
Knows all the one-way streets and dead =
ends
He is quick as a cat, sharp as light
and if I am to follow
I must be patient
waiting
with eyes lit and ears trimmed
A shabby man walks over the brow of the hill
Stopping briefly, he looks for a moment like a scarecrow, stretched
against the sky
Then he strides off into the dark woods
People say he used to come here often,
Was a woodsman, hard as iron, but gentle with the children
Used to preach in the old chapel before it was converted
Then he took to shambling into the back row of Holy Communion
Silent but neat as a pin.
I met him once, hat pulled down in the wind,
He talked to me of the woodcraft,
How they cut a stand and coppiced the young trees;
His hands gnarly and grained, but smile bright and I felt warm in t=
he
glow of the old wisdom
He was a shepherd too, they said, up on the hill with the sweet gra=
ss
Lived in a hut over the summer, knew all the herbs and the folksong=
s
Kept the sheep safe, taught the young men all he loved
And cared for the living things,
That’s what he did, year on year,
Never used a gun, just knew the way life grew
Following Jesus often leads into the embrace of
Christianity. This is something many are wary of doing nowadays. The critiq=
ue
of the Enlightenment has cut deep and most people do not want to identify
themselves too closely, if at all, with a religion that they associate with
conflict, bigotry and old-fashioned attitudes. David Bentley Hart in his
engaging Atheist Delusions ably
demonstrates some of the inaccuracies of the Enlightenment critique and per=
haps
the time will come, long after my death, when people will look back on the =
20th
and 21st centuries with shamefaced amusement at its laughably
inaccurate portrayal of Christianity. But in the meantime those of us who v=
alue
the Christian tradition and know that it is better to be part of something =
than
seek the insipid safety of an individualism which denies any kind of corpor=
ate
identity, need to find some way of articulating the Christian vision which =
is
not defensive and reactive but is able to engage with the challenges posed =
by a
domineering secular capitalism.
I
believe,
So I am
told, in fantastical things:
aqua-perambulations
tricks
with bags of skin and bones
interruptions
in terrestrial logic
But I
have never tried to believe these things
Never
practised on the healing of a mild nervous disorder
Before
moving on to the more intractable diseases of leprosy and death
Rather I have
lived inside the story and found that at every twist and squirm of everyday
events
the old
stories made sense
brought
contemporary wisdom
shed a
satisfying light, as an old lamp might in a power cut
And as to
the truth of the fantastical stories and archaic myths
They seem
true
But
concerning their contribution to scientific history and other such modern
fads... who knows?
Christianity takes concrete form in what the
Evangelicals call discipleship. Having spent some time in that tradition I =
find
the word remains meaningful for me, it seems to draw me back to Galilee when
Jesus called a group of young men (and, in their own way, women) to follow =
him.
Here Christian theology starts to get serious as we try to work out what the
amazing, beautiful vision of the Christian hope actually means in practice
– in the mess and confusions of ordinary life. This begins in the ete=
rnal
quest for forgiveness – that is acknowledging the hurt I have done to
creation, but still finding a way to carry on the journey of being human
Forgive me Holy God<= /span>
For Love I have forsaken
Save me Holy Love
For God I have forgotten
Chosen not Love
but my hurt= span>
Living not free
but in dirt= span>
Forgive me Loving One
Remake my crumbled heart
But Christianity is not primarily concerned with this sinfulne= ss: the failures and disappointments of life, above all it calls us into the challenges of a life lived for the sake of love=
If I loved
I would be a different person
I would not live the same life
I would change
Not into something perfect
Not into an angel with wings airy and full of grace
Not into a hero magnificent in tragic power
Not into someone who was never angry or never got tired
No, I would still be a human being
It would still be necessary to sneeze and sleep and have some time =
off
But I would be different
The child living on the streets of Kinshasa
Would not be a distant creature far away in an alien land
No! She would be righ=
t here
next to me
She would be my sister
She would be my daughter
Yes. I would treat he=
r in a
very different way
I would not ignore her
 =
; or
forget her
 =
; or
use money to keep her at a distance
Yes it would be very different if I loved
If I could manage, somehow, to be a truly loving person
If I was consumed by love
If love was the fusion of my entire being
If I was like, for instance, Jesus
Then, I would be a very different kind of person
I would change
Maybe, you would not recognise me
Maybe I would appear very, very strange.
I have
explored my spirituality previously in The Journey. But in this more prosaic work I also =
find
the need to address the issue of spirituality. Spirituality is a much more
contemporary word than theology, religion or discipleship and while some pe=
ople
would want to resist any notion of having a spirituality, for many others i=
t is
something which they at least aspire to. It is obvious that if Christianity=
is
going to flourish then it must become a more spiritual religion which is
genuinely able to help people develop spiritually and become more mature hu=
man
beings. There are certainly the resources to do this within the tradition a=
nd
they have been ably brought together by the likes of Olivier Clement in The Origins of Christian Mysticism and
Martin Laird in Into the Silent Lan=
d.
What is perhaps needed is for churches to become places of spiritual guidan=
ce,
able to lead people into a transformative encounter with God rather than ju=
st
trying to get them to assent to Christian doctrines. It is to be hoped that=
in
so doing they do not simply get drawn into Western individualism but are ab=
le
to create genuinely open communities which can embrace the world and work f=
or
the common good.
Spirituality
must, therefore, be open and questing – seeking beyond the safe
parameters of what the human mind can control and reaching inwards and outw=
ards
for the love which empowers us
To touch
the outer edge of God
To reach
beyond the orbit of our measured thought
and loose
a satellite to wander in uncharted space
To lose
control and safe restraints
To grope
after the uncensored thought which dwells within
To touch
the hem of his billowing cloak
and feel
the kiss of his words
returning
love
This is
the healing we seek
in the
inner breath of God
But this
seeking must always return to the ground of life, not floating in a remote
spiritual realm but part of the ordinary trudge of life
It must
always begin
with
Life:
this
which I taste
but not
with mind control
(understand)
just
live, and more,
explore
shape
let go,
free
into life
and more than life
(what I
taste, feel, see)
that
is...
Eternity
which
shapes time
breathes
life
enables
it to be
seen
clearly
heard
(the God
in the
midst of everything)
And this seeking is always difficult. We are always missing the divine, mistaking emotion for love, seeing what we want to see rather than = what is. Every day we fail to see the God who has come close to us.
If I met God one day;
on the street whilst doing=
my
shopping
or on a park bench
or on the top of a wild We=
lsh
Mountain as the wild winds blew
I would like to ask him
(although it might, of cou=
rse, be
a she)
politely,
to sort out the Middle Eas=
t
and why people enjoy killi=
ng so
much
and, perhaps,
for some help with a few
embarrassing personal problems.
But I imagine
if I did bump into him on
Chatsworth Road
or find a smelly old man s=
itting
next to me
or feel the strength of th=
e wind
on my face
I am not sure I would reco=
gnized
the Lord of all the Infinite Universes
and so might miss the oppo=
rtunity
It has happened before.
Christian discipleship and
spirituality, however, are not an individualistic pursuit. If they are about
love then they must involve other people and seek to create what has become
known as a Church. Church is, perhaps, even more unpopular than religion and
even as Christians we seem to find it increasingly difficult to live happily
within the confines of a religious community. The services are too boring. =
The
music is not to my taste. The liturgy is too modern, or too old-fashioned. =
And,
above all, the people are so difficult… and why should I waste my time
with these hypocrites and people who do not appreciate me!?! This, of cours=
e,
is the point: Christian spirituality is only of any value when it helps us =
love
these difficult and annoying people, that is when it draws us out of our
solipsistic obsessions and enables us to make a contribution to the flouris=
hing
of the earth. The many failures of the church to do this creates an endless
amount of ammunition for the criticism of Christianity from Tacitus to Dawk=
ins
and we should take notice of this criticism as it can be a valuable source =
for
self reflection, even if it often does seem partial and tendentious. As
Christendom dies and the church in the West seeks to find a new way of bein=
g we
need to find fresh ways of understanding who we are, and listening should b=
e an
important part of this. Yet caution is also required. There is a perfection=
ism
in contemporary culture which seeks to distance itself from failure and mea=
ns
we find it easier to criticize than live with the impurity and messiness of=
human
community. The consequence is increasing fragmentation and loneliness where
everything is mocked and living together in communities and institutions is
increasingly difficult. We should resist criticism that stops us taking the
risk of doing church.
Churchgoing
is a slightly disreputable occupation
nowadays
at least among the people who matter
For they are all Cathars, you see
pure and holy
untainted
by the irrational preoccupations of a fleshy faith
Eternal comedians
they float above the world
unattached
to anything that might sully them
And best of all
they can imagine themselves victims of
persecution
by the spectre of the Inquisition
But criticism of the church has a more positive aspect. It can,
perhaps, be seen as gradually freeing the church from the embrace of worldly
power so that it is more able to be the body of Christ rather than the
handmaiden of the state
For
centuries the Christ followers gave themselves for the world
Offered
up the Nazareth man for the sake of earthly Kingdoms
Lumbered
faith with the weight of absolute truth,
That
there might be something, some ballast
To
restrain the royal greed
Limit the
kingly ambition
Turn
conquering eyes to another heaven.
True they
received power
True they received wealth
True they received extravagant respect
But in
the Christ-economy
In the
mathematics of the beatitudes,
The
physics of the cross
These are
less than baubles
Not even
that,
To
receive them is the true gift:
A gift of
the very soul
Received,
that the world might come to know
The deep
centrality of love
The
essential freedom of each human person and
The
trustworthiness of the universe.
Now that
the gift has been given
Gratitude
recedes like Arnold’s tide
And the
Christ-lovers,
The Jesus
friends
Are set
free on an open sea, liberated into the wilds of the priceless Spirit.
But what
might this liberated church look like? I think it would be a mistake, often=
repeated
in Christian history, to earnestly pursue a purified church freed of everyt=
hing
I don’t like. We must always live with a complicated and messy church=
as
much as we must live with a complicated and messy world. Nonetheless it is
worthwhile remembering that all true reform of the church whether it comes =
from
the old men who escaped into the desert or contemporary beacons of hope suc=
h as
the L’Arche communities, emerges when serious people gather together =
in
order to pray and learn how to love. It is this rather than campaigns and
schemes and reports where the real theology is done.
Not State
Not Institution
Not Established Church
Not Corporations
Not Hierarchies
Not Structures of Command
These are not the seedbed of the Spirit
They may be necessary
May have some capacity to facilitate
May be better, or worse
But the Spirit grows here
in silence
in smallness
in prayer
That is, in the Communities of the Faithful
Who, recovering the ancient wisdom of the desert
here, in the mechanized, cosmopolitan world
doggedly
uncertainly
stumble towards love
The church is a pla= ce to worship. I believe this is health giving: as we look beyond ourselves to the author and the creator we are liberated from solipsism and enabled to embra= ce the world in a living and vivid way. Surrounded as we are by pain and disappointment we can still experience joy and articulate hope.
And God made known = the Name in all the earth
The Name of the Cre= ator
The Name of the Sus= tainer
The Name of the Beg= inning and the End
And every flower bl= oomed its praise
And all the Epynt r= aised its praise
And Irfon gushed its rushing praise
And great was the p= raise of the swooping Raven
And great was the p= raise of the diving Dipper
And intricate was t= he praising of the spinning spider
And every creature = croaked its praise
And every plant and= every rock sang its silent song of praise
And man emerging ra= ised his head
And every woman gaz= ed
On the cacophony of= praise
And knew in their g= ut the Nameless Name, the Silent God
Who was the Silence= behind the praising
Who was the meaning=
Who was the feeling=
Deep in their belly= called Love
Who began it=
And sang it<= /span>
And called it into = life
And never asked but received the praise
For in this way the= Earth is whole
Hangs together
Holds=
And becomes a home = for human life
In the praising
In the raising
In the silence
And the heart flung= open wide
The Church and its worship is central to Christianity but so, also,=
is
the Bible and, in contemporary culture it has just as uncertain a reputatio=
n.
For some people, such as the Welsh poet Menna Elfin, it is a cornerstone of
their life, a source of constant comfort and guidance but for others it is =
at
best irrelevant and at worst dangerous. Many Christians fall between these
polarities, liking some parts (typically the New Testament) but avoiding ot=
her
parts (typically the Old Testament). Personally I’ve always liked the
untidy, unruly nature of the Bible – inspiring and terrifying, lucid =
and
confusing, stimulating and boring but always a challenge to any simplistic =
or
antiseptic notions of what it means to be alive. I find Walter
Brueggeman’s description of the Hebrew Scriptures as a dominant narra=
tive
interlaced with contrary opinions and challenges, very helpful in understan=
ding
the nature of the Bible. It seems to me that in a very Jewish way the Bible=
is
constantly arguing with itself, proposing different points of view and
demonstrating different perspectives, and any attempt to harmonize these
different perspectives into a single, simplistic message is dubious and
unhelpful. We really begin to understand the Bible when we can hear its
polyphony. These poems are a few of my many meditations on the diversities,
perplexities and inspirations of Scripture
I eat the Bible
I have done so since child=
hood
It is good fare for eating=
Less good for:
Judicial
theology
Basic
science
or
prescribing morals
Certainly it inspires theo=
logy
indicates basic moral nece=
ssities
in general terms
and, perhaps, encourages t=
he
possibility of science
But I prefer regular consu=
mption
to intellectual dissection
Finding that this method of
digestion
encoura=
ges
imagination
indicat=
es
fruitful lines of reflection
and
challenges my flaccid praxis
The Bible carries the hist=
ory of
God while the people, the temples, the controversies have passed away. Even=
the
body of Jesus has vanished from the earth but in the words of Scripture
lovingly transmitted over time the ancient witness is preserved – alt=
hough,
of course, the exact nature of the preservation is hotly disputed!
The portable presence of G=
od
will leave no sign of its =
passing
No fossil footprint
No stones for archaeologis=
ts to
survey
No pillars scorched by the=
desert
wind
There will remain no castl=
e walls
No temple precincts
No foundations for the roy=
al
palace
You will search in vain fo=
r field
systems
Or the undulations of eart=
hworks
Even the shadows of postho=
les will
not remain
It has passed on into the =
stories
into the scraps of papyrus=
leaves,
The craftsman's work
The beaten gold
Transformed into the breat=
h of
words.
Legends will multiply
Myths emerge
and the portable presence =
of God
will whisper through the
centuries.
One of the problems with h=
aving words
rather than concrete institutions and artifacts through which to remember t=
he
history of God’s love affair with the world, is that we can over
spiritualize and over individualize the message of Scripture. It is necessa=
ry
to remember that it’s message is not one of merely individual salvati=
on
but is rooted in practical economics and politics
There was no wealth to be had in it
No accumulation
Even the rich had to scrabble on the ground
With the slave trash.
Money could buy nothing
You could pay them to gather for you
But the economics didn't work,
There was no technology of preservation
To pull off Joseph's trick:
Predict the futures and rule the world.
Nonetheless the Bible is personal. Many of the most engaging parts =
of it
are the individual stories of people who have had an encounter with God
She began the adventure
Opened herself to an unknown future
Said 'yes'
When 'no', or 'wait', or 'let me consider my options'
Would have been the wiser course
Sometimes she would have regretted her decision
As others berated her for her youthful folly.
He was so unpredictable this first child of her womb
So unfathomable
So impossible to parent
And when the end came
And she watched the final grotesque agonies
She must have thought the adventure a terrible mistake
Wishing that everything could be changed
That time could be transformed
And a New Reality born
My theologic=
al
meditations now plough more deliberately the furrow of human existence as I
seek to earth them in the daily practices of religion. Above all this is ab=
out
exploring what it means to love, for
it seems to me that learning how to love is the real core of theology. In t=
he
Christian tradition ‘learning how to love’ is rooted in the
experience of grace – th=
at is
we love because we are loved by God. This is the all determining reality of=
the
Christian life. Out of this experience of grace and its practical out worki=
ngs
in applied love, it is to be hoped that we might begin to make progress in
attaining wisdom, which is per=
haps
the desire and destination of all true theology.
A simple
love
Keen
edged
Warm
centred
Unaffected
Without
deceit
Not
secret
But
quietly vibrant
Humble
and
Gentle
and Valiant
A love
for a world wheezing
and
Sneezing
Struggling
For
breath
Addicted
to death
Looking
Seeking
Peeking
Into
every strange corner
For an
answer
To
questions complex
Heterodox
Perplexing
But
needing
Something
Simple
Gentle
Humble
Reasonable
but daring
A love
From
above
Reaching
below
Low
To the
ground
Of our
being:
Earth
round
but also
Heaven
bound
A simple
sharp love.
But it is
easy for love to become abstract and theoretical, as a wit once said “=
;I
love everyone, it’s just people I can’t stand”. Theology
perhaps comes alive when it enables us to love and appreciate this individu=
al
who is standing before me and blocking the path of my freedom
I am not different from yo=
u
You is I in different clot=
hing
but still made of the same=
flesh
You is a fresh expression =
of I
You is a possibility
A beauty I had not dreamt =
of
You is my brother
You is my sister
The same flesh differently
configured
You is the hero I could be=
The shining star, the ange=
l
The aspiration for holy ch=
ange
You is my fear
The I collapsed, denigrate=
d
Driven to a solitary despa=
ir
You is the possibility of =
humanity
A shared strength, a compr=
omise
The one flesh in the many,=
made
ours
And always there is someth=
ing
beyond the words. Words become tiresome – as you might well have
experienced if you have managed to read this far(!), we need and long for
something beyond words
I am tired, Lord, of the r=
estless
mind
of the quickness of though=
t
of the impatience of ideas=
I desire a mind mired in w=
isdom
soaked in the presence of =
beauty
swamped by the pattern of =
love
And so I wait in this damp=
place
where the field unexamined=
quickly returns to the bog=
and the
reed bed
Hoping that here
in the land of the warm ra=
in
and the running river
I might find that fertilit=
y
of the land loved
and long prayed for
But theology=
also
needs to reach out beyond the closed circle of humanity and our personal
relationship with God. It needs to embrace the whole earth. These poems are=
not
explicitly environmental, but they are rooted in a sense of the earth and s=
eek
to understand humanity in our connection with the earth. They are two of my
favourite poems and perhaps it is in such an ecological context that God
becomes most vividly alive for me. It is necessary for us to understand the
specific arena in which God becomes most vivid for us, but without thereby
rejecting other insights or experiences. Thus the idea of Jesus dying for my
sins and canceling my debt has never resonated with me, but this doesn̵=
7;t
mean I can’t accept that it is part of the tradition and deeply
meaningful for many people, and neither does it mean that I shouldn’t
question this theology and enter into dialogue with it. My own instinctive
sense of the salvation offered in Christ is more rooted in eastern Orthodox
practices of restoring the divine image (theosis),
probably because this seems to me a better foundation for an ecological
theology in which the whole of creation rather than just the human soul is =
the
arena of salvation.
Mary's
day in deep August
The
weather's hot
The skin
sticky
The trees
dark, heavy green
The
swallow sky filling with clouds:
Heaven's
blue slowly smothered
By the
rain-bringers
For today
Mary will not rise lighter than the air
But the mother
will stay with us
Heavy,
warm, fruitful
Buried in
the dark earth
An
ecological theology tends to become a sacramental theology – in this =
we
are, perhaps, able to move beyond a wordy theology into something simple but
profound, something embodied which reaches deep into our flesh and being
Here is the word: Receive
receive this all of you
The rain in its wettingness
The sun in its shinyness
The serenading of song thrush
The whirling of wind-rush
The cloud in black and gray
A wet Welsh day
Receive this, all of this
And flesh of the God-man
and blood of the Christ-man
and grace
and the divine face
and food from above
and extravagant love
Receive
and swallow
and ruminate
and contemplate
and digest
The divine gift
all black and earthy and raw
all white and holy and light
all gift
all love
Receive.
As someone w=
ho
suffers from chronic pain it has become essential for my theology to be
contextualized in my body. This continues my concern for a contextualized
theology rooted and earthed in actual human experience, only in this way, it
seems to me, are we likely to develop a theology which makes any kind of se=
nse.
The tediousness of much theology myopically rooted in academic contexts, but
unaware of this and using its cultural dominance to impose itself across the
world, needs constant challenging by theologies emerging from the depths and
margins of human experience.
My theology =
has
become deeply influenced by the Desert Fathers. I find their apparently sim=
ple
sayings speak deeply into my heart in a way which is much more penetrating =
than
most theologies. My theology is, perhaps, an attempt to recover their insig=
hts
into the nature of the gospel. In particular I have found the insight into =
the
way in which illness can be a path of holiness especially helpful
There was no choice<= /p>
no decision
no conversion
The fleeing from the world<= /span>
came in my body
with anguish
with angst
with wild anger
It flared in skin hostile and taunt
It groaned in muscles tight and trapped= span>
It came... in weariness
in the world-weariness of weak flesh
and I made the leap<= /p>
not with a mind clipped and clean<= /span>
not in a heart faint with fear
but here in the gut-self
body and flesh and eyes-weeping
A theology rooted in an experience of illness has the particul= ar benefit of rooting it in life rather than ideas, the body rather than the brilliant delusions of the mind= p>
I offer
without
words
without
interpretations
without or
analysis
my body
to his
body
stretched
on the cross
His body
pierced
broken
remade
in the
community of saints and sinners
I
breathe,
I breathe, drink,
I breathe, drink, swallow
the wine
of the Spirit
and
follow the narrow way
without
explanation or solutions
and without
any words
To
conclude this section, a prayer which I use regularly when reflecting on my
experience of chronic illness
Loving
God
I am
broken
and I
come before you in need of love
that love
which would lift me up in your eternal arms
and make
everything better
but it is
not so
sometimes
you bring healing
sometimes
illness is just a passing storm
but it is
not so for me
So loving
God
I pray
for these gifts:
Thankfulness
in the midst of sorrow
Openness
to healing however it might come, and, in due time,
Release
into your loving arms
Finally we m=
ust
confront death. We can know death in life, if we experience a trauma so deep
and profound that it overwhelms life. And it is not always possible to heal=
this
trauma. This, perhaps, is one good reason why Christianity does not limit i=
ts
perspective to this life, it also sees another horizon which like the sun
rising after a long night will eventually rise and smother the darkness with
its brightness. This is why martyrs are celebrated, their death is not the =
last
word, things grow out of their apparent defeat. And this is why, living in =
the
hope of the resurrection, we do ultimately look beyond death to the final
triumph of life and hope and love. Although life can be dark and overwhelmi=
ng,
it is still possible to hope, if we have faith in this final triumph of God.
Many feel this is a foolish belief and that hope is worthless, for them all
that remains is endurance and the passionate enjoyment of what life happens=
to
bring our way, but the truth experienced by Christians over the centuries is
that hope is not only a comfort in times of trouble but something which
transforms life here and now. Something which changes what it means to be
human.
Melangell in the valley
A winding road
Pheasants litter the way
The mountains rise
Tree-spread
Here where the saint lay
In holy solitude,
And about her feet
The little hares play
She from death
The dog's teeth
The huntsman's knife
The little creatures saved
And to their throbbing bodies
Gave life
Then she returns
To the silent forest
God's wife
I come
To this hidden place
Fringed with pine
And hold strong and sore
A hidden death
Which is mine
Sweet Melangell
I come, perhaps hopeful
to your shrine
We can bring our fe= ar of death and our experience of death in life to God, because we worship a crucified God who knows intimately the taste of death. But the sting of dea= th is drawn because it was a death which was not an end but a beginning
Without the death there would be no
Pentecost
Without the death there would be no Spir=
it,
filling the lungs with every language known to man
Without the death there would be no Spir=
it,
gently holding us in her mother's arms
For without the death there would have b=
een
no garden full of Angels
no gardener speaking the word
no Emmaus and the breaking of bread
no Peter pleading 'Yes Lord, you know th=
at I
love you!'
Without the death they would be no
Paul writing to Romans
there would be no
Christians thrown to the Lions
there would be no
Constantine and his holy empire
there would be no
Francis and his preaching to birds
there would be no
Luther hammering the door
there would be no
Wilberforce stopping the traffic
there would be no
Revival in backstreet churches
there would be no
King denouncing the racists
there would be no
Church on Powerscroft Road =
[2]=
span>
there would be no
Host
there would be no
Feast
there would be no
Funeral with half a thousand people
Without the death we would be alone
There would be no Spirit filling our hea=
rts
There would be no songs filling our lung=
s
There would be nothing but death and the
long loneliness.
Without that death on the cross
Who would we be?
That is we are returned once again to the
life of Jesus where the crucifixion segues into the unsettling, transforming
story of the resurrection. And in following the way of Jesus we incorporate
this story into our own biography
One day
this body will decay
Heart
fail
Gut split
Cancer
grab with malevolent claws
One day
this breath will stop
Eyes
blind
Tongue
still
Disease
fill me to the brim
But I
shall still live
God-filled
Life-brimmed
Raised
with the Holy One
Perhaps theo=
logy
needs ultimately to come to silence, as it is reported happened to the great
medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas – our words are, after all, entire=
ly
inadequate to our theme. And yet for both theology and poetry words are our
reason for being, our breath and our life and without them there would be no
theology and no poetry. We take the risk of using language. I can find the
post-Wittgenstinian obsession with language irritating, as if life was only
about the words we use to describe it, but nonetheless it is undoubtedly tr=
ue
that everything we are as human beings is mediated through language. We thi=
nk
in language. We act in language. We live and move and breathe in language, =
and
we would, therefore, do well to use it as well as we can. Ultimately theolo=
gy
and poetry make compatible bedfellows because they are both interested in
pushing language to the limits and even, perhaps, in speaking of something
beyond the limits of language itself. Here indeed is an exciting adventure.=
I meditate on God
But not in silence;
in a profusion of words, <= o:p>
a polyfest of syllables, <= o:p>
a chattering of consonants=
,
a river of rhymes
An articulation of human s=
ounds
Startling to life a sweet =
downpour
of images:
God's finger plunging raw =
into the
earth's belly
ripping the wet scar of
Tanganyika.
Himalaya shuddering to bir=
th:
squeezed to life from the =
earth's
mud.
Outpourings of rain veinin=
g the
earth with rivers,
the precious tricklings of=
life
and sparklings of water
And I feel her presence wr=
apping
me:
the Spirit's gentle kiss, =
the
Mother's love,
And beside me the strong a=
rm of my
Brother:
the presence of my blood-f=
riend
All that should have been<= o:p>
drenched in the rain of he=
aven
pray
being what the theologian
thinks
see
being what the theologian
acts
sing
being what the theologian
writes
when theology becomes poetry
it is liberated from words;
when poetry becomes theology
it is, at last, translucent
You ponder what it means
to be human
but the true matter is
doing human
it is in action we become
even if action
is only meditating
in a desert cell
(for that, in fact,
requires
much practical economics
and a tight network of friends)
Doing human
is the challenge:
how to act in the world
with practical love
you may have limitations:
a body which doesn’t work
a malfunctioning mind
dire and intractable poverty=
but the challenge
is still the same
and our response
the measure of our humanity<= /p>
This begins
with worship
and prayer:
the orientation towards Eternity
(it is easy as sin
for doing human
to become an exercise in
self-aggrandizement)
so we need
to learn humility
and the ability
to let life flow through us<= /p>
rather than
imagining
we are the generators
of our own salvation
What you do,
then, is,
as they say,
up to you
eco-activism
raising a family
in a household
of hospitality and love
theological education
rooted
in reflection
on human experience
building beautiful houses
singing songs of hope and courage= span>
caring for the dying
bringing to birth new life= p>
these
and many other things
are doing human
So be brave
learn the tradition
wait in your cell
choose words prayerfully
and at every opportunity
do love
© James Ashdown 2015
www.storyman.org.uk