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.