The Children's Act

Challenging, harrowing, thoughtful, beautifully moving and subtle, just a few of my instant reflections on leaving  my showing of ‘The Children’s Act’  today.

It focuses on the challenges of a Judge in the Family Court, played by Emma Thompson., specifically the case of a 17 year old Jehovah Witness refusing a potentially life saving blood transfusion.  With a screenplay by Ian McEwan, based on his own novel, a writer renowned for thoughtful yet non dogmatic explorations on issues of faith  from his own atheist/humanist  standpoint, it’s a story stepped in the big questions, of life, love, meaning and God. 

As I reflect on it a few, fairly disparate, thoughts remain with me  ...

If your religion or faith, of any shade, is a means to hide from the reality of the world as it is, it’s pain or its opportunity.  If your dogma is so unflinching as to become as obstacle to obvious flourishing.  Then its certainly worth questioning and is most likely misplaced.  That’s true whether  your ‘faith’ has a ‘religious’ bent, or is in a humanism based on some sense of pure reason. 

If life is measured in the quality of its living, in poetry, song, and the travelling of the word with it’s ever extending horizons, what of those who can’t, or wont, read or sing or journey? 

If freedom is key, freedom to choose, what if the only choice is death?  If death represents some sort of ultimate finality is not our freedom somehow mocked?

If death, without faith, seems pointless and futile, yet the, oft repeated, loss of ‘an only son’ seems so profound, perhaps there’s a clue to the source of something more. 

To live life solely in the realm of reason, argument , duty, responsibility ... justice, even if perfectly and ably executed, is to fail to live life to the full.  

The final words, coming before a wordless cemetery, ‘will you still love me...?’ provides an ultimate challenge.  If life, fulfilled and meaningful, is to be an object of love, how might I live life with integrity, reason and purpose and still find love, be loved, love myself, just as I am?   If my circumstances seem to deny it, where might an unending, unconditional, life giving love be found?

Leipzig - Modern Day Revolution

My final destination, as I made my way home, actually had very little to do with Luther. He visited a few times and had a famous disputation with his arch enemy Johannes Eck here in 1519, but the main focus of my visit was to reflect more on the story I was reminded of on the banks of the Spree at the beginning of my trip. The story of how this city became the focal point for the peaceful revolution that reunited Germany and tore down the Berlin wall at the end of the 20th Century.

Every Monday since 1982, St Nicholas church here has held a ‘peace prayers’ service, an event that continues into the present day. In 1989 onwards the church became the focal point of non violent demonstration against the GDR regime. Then came the red letter day of 9th October 1989 when 600 members of the East German security force came to break up the demonstrations. However, extraordinarily, they instead joined the prayers of those inside. Within weeks the non-violent movement caused the collapse of the communist party, the end of their dictatorship and, on 10th November, the Berlin wall itself fell, bringing an end three decades of division.

There’s something of a closing of the circle here. One of Luther’s great interests and legacies was his political theology. His notion of separate jurisdictions of church and state that ought not impinge on each other has been powerful and significant, it’s commonly referred to still today whenever a Bishop is told to stick to preaching or a politician to cease moralizing. It was catastrophic in his own day and has seldom fared much better since, to my mind it remains a real threat to the integrity of the Church today. But the events of Leipzig, just 27 years ago, offer an alternative vision. A picture of the Church at the vanguard of social change, championing the consequences of a God of loving justice, concerned for the poor, lifting up the broken, exalting the marginalized while challenging the powerful and influential. For me this seems the logical extension of a gospel of undeserved grace and inclusive faith and so I still like to think it would find in a modern day Luther a powerful spokesperson and ally.

Wittenberg - Places & their Meaning

This beautiful little town is well known as the focal point of the Reformation and is where Luther lived most of his life; first as a monk and University professor, then as district vicar and finally as husband and father. As such it was the site of massive change, for him, for the church and the world – Reformation indeed.

Visiting today you still get a sense of the power and the passion of this upheaval and, for me at least, individual scenes, sites and places seemed to shed real light on some of the great themes that continue to resonate.

Door - Protest

Most famously of course, that door. The entrance to the ‘Castle Church, the church of the University, which also served as something of a notice board, certainly so in 1517 when Luther dramatically nailed his 95 theses to it, protesting the state of the Church in general, particularly its practice of selling indulgences. This act of Protest, more than any other single event, kick-started the Reformation as a whole and still stands as a testimony to the role of righteous indignation at injustice, that seeks not only to understand it and name it for what it is, but always to raise up a movement to put things right.

Oak - Courage

Then there’s the Oak tree at the entrance to the town. Naturally, one of the results of the whole door thing was to put Luther at odds with the established Church in general and the Pope in particular. Ultimately this resulted in a letter of excommunication to be sent to Wittenberg, a matter of serious and life threatening consequence. Luther’s response, on 10th December 1520, was to head to the city gate and build a bonfire, on it he would throw not only the letter but the writings of his opponents and the whole of the Church canon law! The oak, marks the spot of this extravagant and dramatic act and stands, rather incongruously in its pastoral gentleness today, as a vivid reminder of the courage and bravery sometimes needed to do the right thing.

Altar - Simplicity

There are 2 main Churches in Wittenberg, the rather grand ‘Castle Church’ with its famous door, where Luther’s tomb resides, and the much plainer ‘St. Mary’s’, where Luther preferred to preach and which is modelled rather more in his image. 

The contrasts are striking, essentially in the relative simplicity of St Mary’s and, consequently, the impact of the theology that undergirds it. Most explicit are the contrasting altar-pieces, the Castle church has a beautifully gilded feature that anyone who’s visited any major Church or Cathedral in Europe would not be surprised by, at St. Mary’s though the altar is distinctive and powerful, plain and simple, offering 4 separate images. A gathering around a large round baptistery, a communion scene, with disciples seated around a circular table, Luther himself praying for a kneeling worshipper while a Lordly looking chap turns away and Luther again, preaching, pointing only to the cross and Christ crucified. The symbolism seems clear; straightforwardness in sacrament and liturgy, a less hierarchical inclusivity, an engagement with personal pastoral need, a commitment to preaching and clear communication, all in all, a focus on Jesus. These values remain a lasting testimony to Wittenberg faith.  

Jewish Sow - Frailty

The most disturbing site in Wittenberg is the anti-Semitic carving on the exterior corner of St. Mary’s Church, barely ameliorated by the recent sculpture immediately underneath it, seeking forgiveness. It bears testimony to the vicious prejudiced expressed by Luther, against Jews, in his later years. For most of his life he was, by the standards of his day, a sympathetic advocate of understanding the Jewish nature of the foundations of Christianity. Over time though, his views darkened considerably, to the extent that they were copied and exploited by the Nazi’s of the 20th Century. 

These murky waters are important as they are a powerful reminder of Luther’s very real frailty. The most extreme example, of a number, where he was cruel, crude and just plain wrong. His bombastic character cannot cover his faults and he ought certainly not be put on a pedestal and worshipped. To revere theologies and theologians, leaders or ideologies, however ground breaking or significant, is always a dangerous business and a very real form of idolatry.

Dora & Philip - Family & Friendship

The statue of Luther’s wife, Dora, outside of their long term home in the town, and the nearby restored house of his good friend Philip Melancthon bear testimony to that profoundly personal part of Luther’s experience, in which he found love, comfort, solace, sometime heartache as well as real joy. As with all of us family and friendships are the often unseen landscape of our lives and yet, seemingly particularly so for Luther, and unusually too given his initial vocation as a monk, they frequently provide the springboard of our thoughts and deeds. Luther used Dora as a confidant and sounding board and Philip as a conscience and guide. He was wise enough not to believe the modern day myth of the necessary separation of the personal and ‘professional’

A Street of Doors - Legacy

The most recent addition to the Wittenberg tourist trail, I presume an exhibition looking towards, the 500th anniversary in 2017, is a series of 95 different doors lining the main street, each one painted by local children to depict something of Luther and his legacy. 

This is ‘Street Luther’, contemporary and relevant, the one who utilised the newly founded printing press to the maximum is depicted as being at the cutting edge of communication still, a radical and a revolutionary, all in the name of inclusive grace!  

Eisenach, Wartburg & Erfurt - Study, Family, Friends & Words

Eisenach was a pleasant surprise, uninspiring, as elsewhere, as you step out of the station but, once you navigate your way into the town centre, a delight. 

Luther stayed here for 4 years, from 1497, to finish his schooling. During that time he lived with foster families who made a real impression on him. Where his own family had been strict and austere, for the first time in his life he witnessed care and consideration that was both shared between family members and offered to him. It didn’t escape the young boys notice that the faith of these families made a real difference to their lives and revealed itself not in vengeful strictures, but in loving compassion. A real lesson in how seemingly minor players in anyones story can make a really significant impact, far beyond what they themselves were aware of I’m sure, simply be being themselves, showing kindness, expressing their faith in the everyday business of being at home.

20 years later Luther came through Eisenach again. On 4th May 1521 he was returning from his famous defence of himself before the Emperor at the Diet of Worms, when he was ‘ambushed’ by, as it turned out, supportive friends, determined to keep him safe from the threats that were increasingly prevalent. 

He was taken in secret to the imposing Wartburg Castle, above the town, and remained there, disguised as the mysterious ‘Squire George’ for 10 months. He kept himself busy though, most famously over the 11 weeks either side of Christmas, translating the whole New Testament, into the common language of the region, creating in the process the basis of modern German and establishing a new standard for the Bible’s ability to reach into people’s lives in their own words. 

A major town and academic centre, then and now, Erfurt was my base for the second half of my trip.

While Luther was a student here, studying first Liberal Arts and then Law, in accordance with his Father’s wishes, an event occurred that changed his life. In the summer of 1505, travelling back to the University after visiting his family, a thunderstorm hit and the young student was thrown to the ground by a bolt of lightning. Shocked and scared he cried out to the patron saint of miners from his home town, St. Anne, exclaiming ‘I want to be a monk!’ On July 17 he knocked on the door of the Augustinian Monastery in Erfurt and made good his promise. He was ordained in 1507 and began to study theology, much to his father’s displeasure. After a relatively brief period of initial study he was sent to Wittenberg and so the chain of events which was to transform Europe was begun.

Eisleben - Of Birth & Death

Travelling to Eisleben is pretty bleak; flat, uninspiring landscape, punctuated by industrial workings, passenger trains massively outnumbered by heavy goods rolling stock of the sort you rarely see in the UK these days, this is clearly a place of hard graft. The town itself, scared by generations of mining, isn’t pretty, nor particularly prosperous, and so is an unusual place to find 2 UNESCO World Heritage sites within 100m of each other.

Those sites are the birth house and place of death of Martin Luther, clearly this is the heart of Luther territory, hence the renaming of the town Lutherstadt Eisleben. The powers that be have certainly tried to make the most of their favourite son, the ubiquitous tourist audio guide rather bizarrely taking you beyond the 2 key houses on a Luther guided tour of recent town planning and improvement. It enthusiastically leads you through the back streets, pointing out how derelict buildings have been reclaimed by the installation of various Luther themed art projects, even, in one instance, taking you down a particularly run down street with nothing in it at all, the result, apparently, of the local council refusing a funding proposal, ‘such a shame’ bemoans a resurrected Luther into your ear! The local church was a scene of much commotion when I visited, the pulpit from which Luther preached his final sermon, 4 days before he died, was being ripped from the wall and boxed up, ready for shipping to Missouri where it was to be displayed as the centrepiece of a Reformation exhibition. The main memorial in the town square was covered, draped in tarpaulin, undergoing renovation in advance of next years 500th anniversary celebrations, or perhaps it was to shield his eyes!

Rather than detracting from my search for the origins of Luther, all of this peripheral amusement only served to amplify it. This is his town, his people, just a few weeks before he was born, in the Autumn of 1483, Luther’s parents moved here. His Father, a farmer’s son without inheritance rights had begun working in the copper mines and saw, in this place, the centre of the industry in the region, an opportunity. As it turned out he was one of many, and the supply of miners exceeded the demand, so he quickly moved on, but the young Luther maintained strong connections with the town all through his life. He died here as a result of being called in to settle a dispute between citizens, respected by all sides as he was, though ill and feeling particularly ill equipped for the task, he didn’t feel he could refuse. Within 3 weeks he brokered a deal, preached in his home church, was taken ill, and died. Luther’s life, theology and faith, it seems to me was rooted here. In an existence of ordinary people living tough lives. If the God of the Church of his youth felt austere, remote and demanding to him, a bright and earnest young man, then how much more must he have appeared so to those miners from whence he came? Luther’s life quest, to understand and express, in the often broad and coarse language of the miners of Eisleben, a God of graceful acceptance and a faith of meaningful living, echoes to the needs of today.

Germany - In the Steps of Martin Luther ...

I thought I'd share some musings on my recent trip to Germany.  Rather than a day by day, or blow by blow account, it's best I think to take you on a journey, place by place and, as we go, take some time to reflect on the impact that Martin Luther had, and continues to have, on our world, our continent and our church ....

Berlin - At the Heart of Things ...

Sitting on the steps of the river Spree, overlooking the shiny and modern new Government buildings, with the Reichstag illuminated at my back, clearly this is at the heart of things. I’m watching a multimedia presentation of the events of the last century, projected onto the landscape around me, the very arena that witnessed much of it. I’m sat in a large crowd watching, next to an elderly German couple, I’ve no idea what they’re saying to each other, but I wish I did. No country has had to face up to its past in quite the way that Germany has.

Berlin can’t be described as a pretty city like Florence or Venice, it’s not romantic in the vein of Paris or Rome, but it’s certainly historic, it feels like a place of significance, the canvas upon which great, powerful and poignant events have been played out. There was the eerie silence of the memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe, the lingering legacy of Jesse Owens 1936 triumphs at the Olympic stadium, the strange echoes of Nazi jack boots on the Maifield, the evocative ruins of the famous wall, together with the pertinent reminder of checkpoint Charlie, and, of course, the power architecture of the State, around the Reichstag and Brandenburg Gate.

On my recent trip there, resonances were everywhere, of how the past shapes our present, both in the cities we build and the circumstances in which we live but also, more importantly still, in how we think. In Berlin it was the 20th century that was most powerfully present. An era that, for me, especially the time of the cold war and reunification, seems very recent and real. I was in Germany though mostly to think about the 16th century, through the eyes of Martin Luther, much longer ago and more distant in all sorts of ways but, as I was to discover, still as powerful and pertinent.

Faith and Politics in a Divided Nation

Today seems like a significant day.  A referendum result that has been described as heralding the most significant political change for a generation, the resignation of a Prime Minister, strong views, on either side being expressed and reflected upon.

I’m a political person, I joined a political party as a teenager and remain in it today.  I’m interested in the ebb and flow of the drama that politics provides, but I also think it matters.  More importantly than that though I am a person of faith, my Christianity defines my politics as it does everything else about me, so I’ve had cause to reflect on how I might pray, and otherwise respond, to all that has gone on.

I am disturbed this morning, not because the democratic process produced a result different to the one for which I voted, I’m used to that, but because it seems to have painted a stark picture of a country, my country, profoundly divided.  Of course, the binary nature of a referendum, and a 52/48 outcome, means that is fairly obvious, but it seems to me to go deeper than that.  The campaign itself was a divisive one, I’ve no problem with robust political debating and campaigning but, on occasions, the last few weeks have seemed to go beyond that.  More important still, the outcome appears to have split fairly uniformly along lines of class, culture, geography, education and age.   I am an ABC1 London based graduate and so voted the way I did entirely predictably, I guess I ought to be flattered that the only way I bucked the trend was in voting younger than my years!   Given the significance of social media, and the way it so often serves as an echo chamber of our own prejudices, many people woke up this morning amazed that so many were so different to them – ‘Everyone I know was voting the same way as me’ has been a constant refrain. 

It seems then that the politics of the early 21^st century is a politics of disenfranchisement and of disillusion.  The product of a form of globalisation that is perceived to have benefited only a favoured few, the much scorned ‘elites’ ,  at the expense of the ‘ordinary person’,  particularly so if they are disadvantaged in any way.   People look around them and see their hopelessness, or their privilege, reflected back, it’s us and them.  Add to this the familiar issue of immigration and the easily induced fear of the’ other’ readily produces a rallying cry to rise up and be angry.  You don’t need to be a great historian to recognise the mix of economic pressure, rising nationalism and an increasing fear of the outsider can have ugly repercussions.

This is why I am disturbed.  My faith based politics is centred on social justice, a sense of God given irreducible human dignity, a seeking for peace, a universal commitment to take responsibility for each other and to share fairly both the benefits of prosperity and the hardships in times of challenge.   I am not naive or ignorant enough to think that everyone who votes differently to me are  opposed to those broad values, still less are they racist or bigots, but I am also convinced that yesterdays referendum would not have gone the way it  did but for an appeal to that darker side of all our human natures. Righteous political and community leaders, of all sorts, have a responsibility in the arguments they deploy and the language that they use to appeal to goodness not pander to fear. 

And so I will pray.  I will pray for unity and wisdom, for a minimal sense of anger and disenchantment and for peace.  But for Christians praying always goes in tandem with action, Godly activity, including in the political realm, that seeks to build the Kingdom values of the Sermon on the Mount.  So I will do what I can, to continue to promote working together rather than rending apart, to welcome the stranger, to encourage the young (for me the one positive aspect of the results) and to provide hope, especially for the too easily overlooked.  It won’t be much, like my vote, it may appear not to make to much difference but, as with my prayers, my faith convicts me towards seeking and striving with purpose for the things yet unseen.