Christmas Stories ... 4

It’s Christmas Eve and time for my final end of year reflection.  I’ve spread them out because, it seems to me, there have been a number of stories and issues over recent weeks that our Christmas faith, of incarnation, participation and involvement, relates to.  Perhaps the most long running and pertinent of them all though has been the ‘Occupy London’ encampment outside St. Paul’s Cathedral. 

Although not, of course, a specifically Christian protest, the unintended eventual location of the camp has given the entire story an interesting and appropriate theological twist.  It’s not every year that a national debate is stimulated by a large ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ banner outside of one of our major landmarks in a time of economic crisis! 

At first, almost inevitably, the Church seem to come out of it poorly.  Initial goodwill as a result of their welcome, hospitality, offer of sanctuary even, quickly dissipated as institutional factors began to loom large. Characterised most prominently by the dead-hand of ‘health and safety’ closing the church doors for the first time in a generation.  Internal squabbles, resignations and finger pointing followed, and you could almost hear the nationwide shoulder shrugging as the ‘church’ seemed to be following its oft repeated script, as a well meaning, but bumbling, incompetent, irrelevance.             

Since then however, albeit in not quite such a publically prominent way, some ground has been regained.  The delayed  ‘Value and Values’ report of the St. Paul’s Institute was published in early November, the Institute itself played anincreasing active role in engaging with, and facilitating, the debate, previously peripheral voices began to express themselves more clearly.  It began to be recognised that this particular protests appearance on the steps of a house of prayer was, perhaps, no accident at all.

From my perception, the church has struggled, in this debate as in others, to bridge the gap between two different strategies and attitudes.  On the one hand, through the work of the Institute most obviously in this case, it has become clear that the questions being raised, about the morality of the market and the spiritual efficacy of economics, did not take the church by surprise.  Christians in general, and St Paul’s in particular, have been grappling with, and troubled by, these issues for centuries.  In its role as ‘critical friend’ however, and by adopting a rather academic tone, its contribution has not been as widely heard as it might be.  Conversely, the church, in all its guises, is perhaps the only ‘institution’ that deals, face to face, with the real, profound, personal impact of these issues on every street corner of the country, every day of the week.  Even in our increasingly secular age, it is still the church that employs more youth workers than anyone else, makes more hospital and prison visits, maintains a physical presence in every community, with all that that entails.  (A fact movingly and poignantly portrayed in the recent hit comedy ‘Rev’, but that’s perhaps for another time.)  In other ways too, the church engages with these issues at a powerfully popular level.  The annual Greenbelt festival still addresses a wide cross-section of challenging, radical opinion in accessible, popular ways from a faith perspective. Indeed, had it been up to me, I might have suggested turning the ‘Occupy’ camp into an advent long ‘Greenbelt’ style festival, culminating at Christmas – throwing open the doors, not only of the church, but of it’s significant and ongoing conversations and involvements for all to see. 

For this is surely where Christmas and these protests meet.  The story we remember this weekend includes wise men and shepherds, movers and shakers and down and outs.  It celebrates not simply God’s reign over all, but His engagement with each, for His kingdom’s cause.  ‘What would Jesus Do?’  What has Jesus done?  He has come to such a world as this, been born in the midst of material need and real affluence, and continues to live among his people; all of them, everywhere, everyday.

Happy Christmas.  

Christmas Stories ... 3

Another death to mourn this week, and one that strikes an altogether different note from that of Christopher Hitchens, one an avowed atheist in a deeply religious country, the other decidedly religious in the midst of a formerly Communist society.  With a poignantly festive resonance, world leaders and  ordinary citizens will gather today in and around Wenceslas Square, Prague, for the state funeral of Vaclav Havel.  

A complex, in many senses almost romantic, figure Havel lived through turbulent times, as a playwright, dissident, politician and president, in the latter two-thirds of the 20th century in Eastern Europe.  Never a natural politician he was, essentially, a man of words and ideas, an imaginer of hopeful possibilities, a crafter of brighter dreams.  He was convinced by the view that artistic and philosophical creativity were the mainsprings of significant political change, and that the reality of God guaranteed the legitimacy of hope in that change.

By no means a classic Christian, Havel was always reluctant to too closely define the God in whom he believed. Yet his faith was the key to his hope which, in turn, was the rock from which he wrote, and acted. In this season of 'Good King Wenceslas', today, of all days, it would be no bad thing to reflect on some of the wise words of the last president of Czechoslovakia...

"I really do inhabit a system in which words are capable of shaking the entire structure of government, where words can prove mightier than ten military divisions."

"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good."

"The tragedy of modern man is not that he knows less and less about the meaning of his own life, but that it bothers him less and less."

"When we lose God in the modern world, we lose meaning, purpose, accountability, and responsibility."

Another passing thought on the, vaguely Christmas related, news items of the past few weeks … ‘The God Particle’ apparently has shown up, sort of, possibly.  Together with the ongoing head scratching over the apparently excessive speed of the neutrinos, it really does seem as if physics is the new rock n roll.

I do find this all fascinating, the world of quantum physics seems a bizarre and extraordinary place, but, inexpert as I am, I do still have some nagging questions.  If the existence of the Higgs-Boson has been assumed for a while now, its discovery merely confirms the current standard model – important for sure, but not as exciting, to the lay-person, as was, in some places suggested.  It seems that in much popular imagination finding the God particle is akin to discovering the ‘thing’ that plays the role hitherto granted to God in the whole beginning of the universe business, and we can now all move on, having finally sorted that one.  Of course no serious scientists really believe that, but when you look at some of the things that are said you can forgive the confusion.  In a statement which was presented as the ‘key conclusion’ of Stephen Hawking’s ‘The Grand Design’ he said ‘Because there are laws such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing.’  Now, it seems to me, that you don’t have to know anything at all about physics, just be able to attribute the usual meaning to each of the words in that sentence, to regard it as both self-contradictory and ridiculous.  In the words of another Oxford professor, ‘Nonsense remains nonsense even when it’s spoken by very clever people.’

One other thought, it does seem that levels of excitement in the scientific community, understandably, are in direct proportion to the time elapsed from the point of the big bang to the appearance of the most recent discovery.  Last week Professor Brian Cox breathlessly enthused that the potential discovery of the Higgs-Boson took us to within one billionth of a second of the big bang itself.  Now call me old fashioned but, impressed as I am by the smallness of that number, I would still be far more intrigued by some discovery relating to the moments before the big bang.  Professor Dawkins might call this a non-question, but what is this nothingness out of which something comes?  Is it just some pre-existent physical law, as Hawking’s suggests, if so to what does it relate? Might there be someone there after all?  And if they were to come down at Christmas, and be discovered closer to us than we think, wouldn’t that be something to get excited by.

Christmas Stories ... 2

Yesterday I mused upon the nature of commitment, as revealed by our Prime Minister.  Another recent story though shines a very different light upon the same theme.  Christopher Hitchens was a man of bold and outspoken commitment.  A more than able writer and journalist, his renown spread more because of his passion than, even, his eloquence.  He attacked many targets in his time but was consistently scathing towards those who held their position, any position, lightly.  Not for him the PR savvy, focus-group aware opinions that seek chiefly to hitch a ride with a prevailing wind. 

In recent years Hitchens became most well known as one of the ‘Four Horsemen’ of the so-called ’New Atheism’, together with Dan Dennett, Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins.  The least academic, but most florid of writers, in the group his book ‘God is not Great’ pulled no punches in describing religion, all religion, as, among other things, ‘violent, irrational, intolerant, racist, tribal, bigoted, ignorant, contemptuous, coercive and sectarian.’  Less concerned than some others with the detail of the philosophical arguments, he piled into the dark side of belief with anecdote, story and account, telling tales of, well religion giving rise to violence, irrationality, intolerance, racism etc etc. The upshot, for this reader at least, was to affirm with him my disbelief in these gods afresh. Critics too, notably the equally acerbic, and atheistic, Terry Eagleton, noted a somewhat glaring lack of substance.  No matter, Hitchens’s ongoing reputation as an iconoclast was further cemented.  One consequence of the books success was a publicity tour, which came to include a series of debates.  To his credit Hitchens never shied away from any opponent in these encounters but his most common adversary was Doug Wilson, as a consequence, his obituary was one of the most moving and reflective of all.      

Somewhat ironically, in this supposedly rational age, Hitchens’s approach seems to be gaining currency.  The obituaries were full of glowing admiration for his bombastic style and ‘take no prisoners’ attitude, despite his admitted insensitivity, crassness and even cruelty – including following the death of some of his ‘victims’.  If you’re eloquent enough, witty enough, can drink enough and, crucially it seems, have been to Oxford, the prizes still go to those who shout the loudest.  I’ve always been slightly confused by the attraction of this sort of controversialism in journalism, and comedy too.  It’s not difficult to be shocking and outrageous, it would only take seconds for any of us to think of any number of things which, if expressed, would fit the bill and make a headline.  Is ignoring the barrier, however constructed, that prevents us, usually, from spilling out every passing thought a sign of bravery, cleverness or wit?  Is a degree of self-control inevitably to be thought of as a repressive conservatism?     

So many difficult questions, ultimately, in the end, I’m with ‘Hitch’, what matters most when answering them is not reputation or vested interest, sales figures or popularity, wit or eloquence but truth – in life, and in death, it sets you free don’t you know.

Christmas Stories ... 1

It’s kind of traditional at this time of year to have a ‘religious’ story hitting the headlines.  The annual Daily Mail ‘Winterval’ outrage is as routine as Christmas pudding now and, even this morning I saw a quaint piece about an apparent shortage of frankincense, complete with footage of a middle-eastern nativity shepherd lookalike, looking suitably forlorn.

Yet this year many mainstream stories seem to have had that edge to them as well.  I thought, as we come to the end of the year, an appropriate time for reflection, I’d briefly comment on just a couple over the coming days …

Last weekend the papers were full of the Prime Minister’scall for a return to Christian values. The text of his speech didn’t quite say that, the relevant section was more a gentle criticism of the church for suggesting values which, although Christian, didn’t necessarily chime with his political convictions, about the riots in particular. But it was a big story none the less. 

It was conviction that seemed to be at the heart of it, yet oddly defined.  David Cameron boldly declared himself to be ‘committed … but only vaguely practising … and full of doubt’.  Now Christian commitment is a notoriously slippery thing to tie down, and certainly not inimical to doubt – a genuine Christian virtue, but, in my experience, those that declare commitment at least attempt to practise, if only to seek answers to their doubts.  Where there is ambiguity, as there often is, it seems to appear more frequently with those who practise, to some degree or another – try to engage in Christian community, open themselves to spiritual experience, grapple with Christian doctrine, be challenged by Christian ethics etc. and yet still would only declare themselves to be ‘vaguely committed’ at best.  Commitment, they rightly recognise, is a high bar.   The more cynical have noted that Mr. Cameron’s commitment here may be rather like his commitment to the ‘European project’ or the ‘green agenda’, a useful declaration yet strangely insubstantial when it comes to all the tricky practicalities.  That may be overly negative though, large parts of the speech were positive and genuinely reflective. It may be that his ‘commitment’ then is more akin to a desire to believe, a commitment to the idea of commitment if you like, a recognition that some form of firm foundation is necessary, for politics, morality, society as a whole, and a sense that Christian faith may be the place to look for this.  That’s encouraging to hear, and is commonly felt, but it’s only a start.  To be fair, it’s a key part of the role of the church to make that case persuasive, sensitively yet practically. As always, the practise will be vital. James, in his New Testament letter, confronting a previous generation who were tempted to think commitment always trumped practise, was straightforward; ‘faith without works’, he said, ‘is dead.’  For him, those works began with compassion to the poorest, it would seem reasonable therefore to start in the same place when assessing the virtue of any professed commitment today.                        

Culture Clash...

I had a busy time last week, for a week off! On the Saturday I spent a day at the BeThinking National Apolgetics Conference. 6 hours of lectures from some of the world’s foremost Christian philosophers, scientists and Biblical scholars. The over-arching theme was responding to the challenge of the so called ‘New Atheism’ – the converging ideals that faith is intellectually incoherent, science provides a more adequate world-view and that religion in general, and Biblical Christianity in particular, is immoral.


Through the middle of the week I spent a few days up in the North East, with the lovely people of the Northumbria Community, in their new ‘Mother House’. Days spent in silence, quiet reflection, fresh air, contemplation.

On my return it wasn’t hard to see just how different these two experiences had been, not only physically, at opposite ends of the country, one in the midst of one of the busiest cities in the world, the other scarcely a dot in a sea of white on my ‘Googlemaps’ printout, but also intellectually, emotionally … spiritually.

They were both Christian events, each stretched and enhanced my own faith, yet, I reflected, it is a strange faith that is engaged in two such disparate ways … and a million more in between. I felt, as I often do, a little schizophrenic. Naturally, I like to think of myself as quite the contemplative, I’m not scared of silence, am happy in my own company and if there’s a thought provoking visual image and a few Tea lights around then so much the better! I still want to ask the difficult questions though. My hackles are raised when it’s suggested I park my brain in some corner or, worse still, listen to some crude anti-intellectualism that sometimes passes for Christian commentary. These distinctions might be classified in many different ways; scientific versus artistic, activist versus reflective, right brain versus left brain or, perhaps most common of all, modern versus post-modern.

I guess I am a child of my time, born in the mid 60’s growing up in the ‘culture wars’ of the late 20th century, I am one of the first, now aging, ‘post-moderns’. But wait, can we just shrug our shoulders and leave it at that? Can Christian faith really have it both ways in the emerging cultural climate of the 21st century? Philosopher William Lane Craig, in the BeThinking conference, was straightforward and scathing. So called Post-Modernism, he claimed, was a sham, worse still, an intellectual deceit, employed by the enemies of faith, in order to disarm theists of their rational defences and claim for themselves exclusive rights over all the keys areas of public discourse. Leave subjectivity to the artists, he seemed to suggest, no-one denies the objective meaning of the text when reading the instructions on a packet of rat poison!

In Northumbria an entirely different agenda was in play. No questions here around historical accuracy or objective truth, talk instead of journey, connection, encircling and encounter. One of the community’s leaders, Roy Searle, in a sermon a few weeks earlier, described the urgent mission of the church as a whole as being to come to terms with a post-Christian world, and to learn again what it is to speak with a minority voice as we ‘sing the Lord’s song in a strange land.’. I suspect Professor Craig might consider that defeatist talk!

But I’m greedy and, schizophrenic though I maybe, I don’t want to make that choice. Furthermore I believe the mission call demands that we don’t fall too heavily on one side or the other of this question. I do feel that we fail our young people, especially, when we focus so much on the experiential and the relational that we leave them ill equipped to counter, or challenge, the reasoned and rational critiques that will come their way, if not at University, then soon after. If the Christian faith is to make significant strides in the coming years, than its challengers will have to be faced, reasonably. Those in the pews will have to be supplied with a new confidence in the coherence of what they believe and the public square will have to be addressed meaningfully.

Having said all that I’m not convinced that the drop-out rate among Christians in higher education, or the slipping away through the back doors of our churches, are entirely to do with earnest discussions with atheistic professors in profound tutorials, or as a result of a discreet reading of the works of Richard Dawkins respectively. Instead, a combination of moral struggle and a real absence of genuine, ongoing, transformative encounter, both in worship, and in the everyday are, I suspect, the chief culprits. The task of nurturing an ongoing intimacy with God has never been more urgent, and will never be found at the conclusion of a debate.

As ever then, we need both head and heart, word and Spirit, mind and body and always to resist the temptation to seek one without the other. Perhaps more weeks like my last one.

What Makes A Story Good? …A Reflection on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2

I’m no Harry Potter expert, having read only a couple of the early books and seen a few of the films as they’ve taken my fancy over the years.  Clearly though it has become a significant cultural phenomena and, especially in the early years, given rise to much debate within the church.  To be honest that whole controversy left me cold.  I sensed a depressingly familiar mix of excessive literalism and cultural denial in much of the negative Christian comment.  That was particularly frustrating when, from the very opening chapter of the first book and the initial scene of the film series, this was clearly something that could be engaged with, and reflected upon, productively from a Christian perspective. 

So, what to make of it now?  I wanted to see the final film, and so crammed in a few of the earlier instalments to get me up to speed.  Had Harry turned into a Satan worshipping lunatic, or, even an unsuspecting, benign advocate of witchcraft and dubious dabbling of all sorts? I suspected not.

What I found was the culmination of an epic fantasy in the greatest traditions of the genre.  Full of excitement, wonder and thrills for sure but never lacking in character, heart and emotion either.  Not only is it a ripping yarn, like all the best stories it has important things to say as well. 

As I watched there were clearly a whole number of scenes and incidents that called to mind Biblical parallels or at least prompted me to ‘think Christianly’ about what I was watching: 

-          when Harry returned to rescue the stricken Draco Malfoy, or tend to the dying Snape, I was moved by the challenge to love our enemies. 

-          as Neville Longbottom summoned up his last dregs of courage to play a final crucial role, while still the mocking laughter of his peers rang in his ears, I cheered at the thought of the meek inheriting the earth.

-           as Harry entered the forbidden forest I was, of course, inexorably drawn to Gethsemane, as he eschewed the trappings and instruments of power I was taken to the temptation wilderness and as he pondered perhaps the greatest decision of all at an ethereal ‘Kings Cross’ I reflected again on the significance of another King and another cross.

Slightly more abstractly, as I thought about the controversy around all of the spells and the sorcery, it came to mind that these things, for our heroes at least, were but the ordinary, relatively humble, means by which their greater goals might be achieved.  Not for them the petty arguments about who had the biggest wand, the most magnificent pyrotechnics or the cleverest enchantments. A significant lesson perhaps for Christians who, I’ve heard it suggested, are not immune from engaging in a bit of boasting about supernatural, spiritual prowess, forgetting that the gifts of the Spirit are tools for a higher purpose too.

Perhaps most of all though I was caused to reflect again on the nature of evil and the wonder of the atonement.  How the lust for power, and its associated characteristics of envy and greed, is a key root of evil at every level. How the sting of death is felt in that paradigm as the ultimate defeat of personal ambition.  And so how any lasting remedy must cut to the very heart of that endemic human condition. 

The atonement, demonstrated through this series, has some obvious particular parallels with the Christian account, after all it majors on salvation and resurrection enabled by sacrifice. The real story though is that this theme has permeated every episode, every book and film, each conversation and incident, the whole saga.  Redemption here is not the result of a ‘quick fix’ or even a single final battle, it has been played out through a lengthy love story, gradually being revealed, nuanced and complex, yet ultimately victorious.  ‘Salvation history’, that scholars like to talk about, has rarely been better depicted.  

In this final instalment though, the culmination of all that has gone before, the atoning act was positively Johannine.  In the Fourth Gospel the crucifixion of Jesus is described on several occasions as his being ‘lifted up’ (3:14, 8:28, 12:30-34). This act, for John both climactic and voluntary, is at once a victorious exaltation and an unmissable, ‘lightening-rod’ type of absorbtion of all the power of sin and death.  There’s even a serpent handy to make the image complete.  Carson’s commentary on John 12:31-32, with the replacement of certain words, could read like a film review…

“Although the cross might seem like Satan’s triumph it is in fact his defeat. In one sense Satan was defeated by the outbreaking  power of the Kingdom of God, even within the ministry of Jesus. But the fundamental smashing of his reign of tyranny takes place in the death/exaltation of Jesus … analogous to the apocalyptic scene in Revelation… Jesus was glorified, ‘lifted up’ to heaven, by means of the cross, enthroned, then too was Satan dethroned. What residual power the prince of this world enjoys is further curtailed by the Holy Spirit…”

It could be imagined, had John known of horcruxes, he may have reached for the metaphor himself. 

 

Ultimately though, what makes for a good, epic story?  The fantasy world of Hogwarts comes alive for us, just like Narnia and Middle-Earth before it, not merely because of the sense of wonder and enchantment, the strange and amazing sights, or even because of any, part-hidden, deeper message, but because it forms a backdrop for values to be displayed which we all warm to, and are thrilled by.

It’s the world-view behind these worlds that provide the lasting enchantment, and the most interesting legacy. A perspective understood by asking questions like; How is right/wrong good/bad determined and demonstrated?  By what means do the good guys (and girls) ‘win’ – if they do?  Where and what are the surprising (‘counter-cultural’) actions?  How are these films suggesting I ought to behave in my, sometimes less than magical, world?

At the end, as throughout, Harry and his colleagues overcome through courage, loyalty, friendship, faith and, above all, love. In a consumer culture where all to often, in so many of the stories we see, hear and tell without controversy or complaint, the spoils go to the prettiest, the cleverest, the strongest or the most manipulative, I know which ones I’d prefer my children to hear.