Henri Nouwen on Prayer

I have just finished re-reading Henri Nouwen’s ‘With Open Hands’, a great reflection on the challenges and opportunities of prayer. In the book Nouwen explores what prayer is and how we go about it. “Praying is no easy matter. It demands a relationship in which you allow someone other than yourself to enter into the very center of your person, to see there what you would rather leave in darkness, and to touch there what you would rather leave untouched. Why would you really want to do that?” The book’s title comes from his use of the helpful image of an open hand as against a closed fist. So often we are taking the closed fist approach, but what we need is to open to hands, an image of our being receptive to God. We need to receive what God wants to give us. “Those who live prayerfully are constantly ready to receive the breath of God and to let their lives be renewed and expanded. Those who never pray, on the contrary, are like children with asthma: because they are short of breath, the whole world shrivels up before them. They creep into a corner gasping for air and are virtually in agony. But those who do pray open themselves to God and can breathe freely again. They stand upright, stretch out their hands, and come out of their corner, free to move about without fear.” Praying is about looking to and for God’s Kingdom. “Praying, therefore, is the most critical activity we are capable of, for when we pray, we are never satisfied with the world of here and now and are constantly striving to realize the new world, the first glimmers of which we have already seen.” “Praying, therefore, means being constantly ready to let go of your certainty and to move beyond where you now are.”

Nouwen as Mystic

I recently read Michael Ford’s “Lonely Mystic – A New Portrait of Henri J M Nouwen”. This is Ford’s second Nouwen biography. I read “Wounded Prophet” some time ago. I am fascinated by Nouwen and his writing. There is much to be said about – and by – him, and this particularly biography, as the title indicates, focusses on his ministry as a mystic, which reflects much of who he was – “Gustavo Gutiérrez called him “an exceptional human being”—and so he was. Yet despite his phenomenal gifts, he was also an enigma and a paradox, a man tortured by deep personal anguish, uncertainty, and self doubt. He shouldered a cumbersome insecurity, which took the form of a chronic need for admiration and a desperate fear of rejection.” As Ford says Nouwen “was was a deeply holy priest and a highly astute psychologist who tried to get to the roots of his own complexities by writing about them, turning his thoughts into paperbacks that, in turn, brought people closer to God and even helped transform their lives.” He adds “In his book In the Name of Jesus, he states simply and unambiguously, “A mystic is a person whose identity is deeply rooted in God’s first love.”” There is much in Ford’s writing to help us consider Nouwen in all his complexity and the way in which he draws things together. “In The Wounded Healer, published a few years before, Henri had explained that it was his growing conviction that in Jesus the mystical and the revolutionary ways were not opposites, but two sides of the same human mode of experiential transcendence: “Every real revolutionary is challenged to be a mystic at heart, and he who walks the mystical way is called to unmask the illusory quality of human society. Mysticism and revolution are two aspects of the same attempt to bring about radical change.” There were many points of interest for me in the book, but perhaps not least, especially since I have just visited Amsterdam, his recognising the impact of Van Gogh. “Few people influenced him more than van Gogh, whose deep wounds and immense gifts brought him in touch with his own brokenness and talents in a unique manner. He was restored and renewed by the endless hours he spent looking at paintings in a museum in the Netherlands and carefully studying Vincent’s letters to his brother Theo. In times of solitude, he heard a voice he felt he could listen to and make connections between van Gogh’s struggle and his own. The mystic in van Gogh guided the mystic in Henri, who claimed the former as his own wounded healer.”

Prepared for Easter

I have been reading “Preparing for Easter” through Lent. It’s a compilation of fifty extracts from the writings of C S Lewis, put together as fifty readings to take one through Lent. It is a fascinating and mixed selection, some I really enjoyed, though I found less in others to speak to me, and some, certainly, is of Lewis’s time. But it was a good way of having a reading discipline through Lent. Here’s just a few brief extracts. “How should we know what He means us to be like?” “We must all pin our hopes on the mercy of God and the work of Christ, not on our own goodness.” “Jesus asks those at the well who are sinless to cast the first stone. Paul says we have all fallen short and missed the mark. Let’s not gloss over our corruption but rather recognize it and confess it. Remember that he is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” “Real forgiveness means looking steadily at the sin, the sin that is left over without any excuse, after all allowances have been made, and seeing it in all its horror, dirt, meanness, and malice, and nevertheless being wholly reconciled to the man (sic) who has done it. That, and only that, is forgiveness, and that we can always have from God if we ask for it.” “Idealism can be talked, and even felt; it cannot be lived.” “When Christ stills the storm He does what God has often done before. God made Nature such that there would be both storms and calms: in that way all storms (except those that are still going on at this moment) have been stilled by God.” “The more we get what we now call ‘ourselves’ out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become. There is so much of Him that millions and millions of ‘little Christs’, all different, will still be too few to express Him fully. He made them all. He invented—as an author invents characters in a novel—all the different men (sic) that you and I were intended to be.” “And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

Transgressing Race

I have just finished reading “Transgressing Race: Readings, Theologies, Belongings” edited by Jione Havea, a very interesting, if at times challenging, read. The book offers Biblical and theological readings from that challenge the segregation caused by racism. “Racism—including racism inspired by Christian faith and by religious elitism—is bloody.” “Racism is the manifestation of a shitstem (to use reggae speak) that segregates, and discriminates against, some people—because of their race. This manifestation comes in many forms, but they share the common drive to deny resources and opportunities from people who are minoritized—because of their race.” The book challenges us to properly address issues, notably issues of race, that damage people, though, in so doing, makes some useful points that have a more general application. There are lots of footnotes and quoted scholars, and I struggled a little, but worth reading – and there were certainly some strong passages that spoke to me powerfully. For example, “Preaching is not so much about telling what we ought to do or what we ought not to do as about witnessing (seeing and acting) how God is at work in the world in front of our eyes and beyond our seeing. A homily becomes even more instructive when it shows how the Reign of God is already being practiced, even if the practice is only partial and far from being perfect. In that sense, preaching is an invitation to join the divine drama, a rehearsal.” “Mary sang her song as a lullaby to Jesus who is to be born 9 months later. The Magnificat defies despair. The Magnificat impregnates hopes. The Magnificat sings of the new world; it beholds a renewed future. The Song echoes in many voices today as many of us continue to sing and praise God who has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; who has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; and who has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”

Looking to Easter

I have just re-read “The Easter Stories” by Trevor Dennis, a great preparation for celebrating Easter in a few days time. I find Trevor Dennis’ style of writing, with its emphasis on story, very engaging and extremely helpful in reflecting on Scripture. I like the way in which he interacts different passages and stories, letting them speak to each other and illustrate each other, and that is a device that is prominent and helpful in this particular book. “The feeding of the five thousand is not a ticket-only affair, nor like the Last Supper is it behind closed doors. The men, women and children who are there do not have to prove themselves worthy to receive. The meal happens out in the open, with no boundaries, no walls, no fences, no doors. All the people have to do is turn up, and stretch out their hands to receive. Then the kingdom of God can come, and they can have their daily bread and God's name can be hallowed.” I also liked the way in which he draws the reader to look at the events being retold through the eyes of particular participants in the story. “So the women in Mark do not encounter the resurrection. Resurrection, of course, is not what they have come for. They have come for the marking of death. They have come for the wrong reasons, for when they reach the tomb they find that death has been undone. In any case they need not have bought their expensive spices for, so Mark has told us, an unnamed woman in the Bethany house of a leper called Simon, has already broken a ‘jar of very costly perfume, genuine nard’ and poured it all over his head, and Jesus has declared that she has anointed his body for burial (14.3-9).” All in all, these stories and reflections provide a great commentary on the events of Easter. “So when Matthew speaks of earthquake, the dead bursting from their tombs, an angel descending to a tomb and rolling away the entrance stone with his little finger (I cannot stop myself adding a little more drama still), he is trying to understand the momentous character of the events. They are truly of cosmic significance, and just as Jesus' birth in Matthew's Gospel is marked by the movement of a star, so Jesus' death and resurrection are accompanied by a movement of the earth.”

Walking The Camino

I have just finished reading ‘Camino Sunrise’ by Reginald Spittle, sub-titled ‘Walking With My Shadows: One reluctant pilgrim packs a weighty load on a 500-mile path’. In the book Reg tells the story of how he, together with his wife Sue, having recently retired, made the trip from the USA to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago. Though I have never walked any of it, I invariably enjoy books about the ‘Camino’ – and this was no exception. Unlike several books that I have read, this camino pilgrim does not enter the story (and the challenge) from a faith perspective, though it is interesting to see how faith makes its mark. In the end, when asked his reasons for walking, Reg says that it was partly personal, but also partly spiritual. There is no doubt that the experience had a big impact – and that comes through clearly as he reflects on his experiences on the camino and, in particular, Sue and he met and the friends they made. As he writes: “ The Camino wasn’t about getting to Santiago. It wasn’t about the miles we travelled. The journey was about people and the adventures we shared. It was about testing our limits, separately and together.” And there were a few good quotes. For example: “One revelation from this journey had become clear, and it sounded so simple: Nurture friendships with commitment and trust.” “The Camino confirmed another life lesson: “Take time.”” “What else was I taking home? I ticked off a list of lessons. Privacy is overrated. Never assume. Trust people. I am not a sissy. Take time. Never give up. Stay flexible. Pack light. Be patient. Use poles properly (thank you, Gitta). An important one: Don’t take myself so seriously. Have faith in the Camino’s magic. Another came to me: Cultivate friendships.” “There was really just one lesson. Acceptance. I must accept who I am and what I have done. I must live with the actions of others. My fellow pilgrims and I practiced acceptance daily. We persevered through struggles. We appreciated each other and celebrated common bonds as well as differences. We accepted the past, lived in the moment and moved forward.” All in all, a good read.

It's Important To Be Foolish!

I have just finished reading Brennan Manning's "The Importance of Being Foolish: How To Think Like Jesus". It's a timely reminder of the challenge of fitting God's Kingdom standards which do tend to turn things upside down. As Manning writes: "Jesus presents his heavenly Father as our model. As God rains peace and goodness on the just and unjust alike, so should we. Anyone can love their friends, those with whom we have a mutuality, a reciprocity. True godliness demands much, much more." One way in which we behave differently from normal convention should be our readiness to forgive (as God forgives us). Manning reminds us just how challenging, but how necessary, this is - "If we do not forgive our enemies, we ourselves are not forgiven (see Luke 6:37). For a long time the theology of the confession of sins has not been presented in this perspective. We have quibbled over the approximate number of times and the precise species of sin for which forgiveness might be warranted. We consider the boundaries crossed and the equal division of blame. When we do offer forgiveness, we do so too often with a spirit of superiority, using forgiveness as something to hold over the head of those we have deigned to let off the hook. The New Testament is relevant only if we grasp the fundamental meaning of the radical demands of the gospel while at the same time understanding that we can never completely fulfill them." He reminds us: "Contact with Christians should be an experience that proves to people that the gospel is a power that transforms the whole of life. Instead, our presence in the world is often marked by rank insincerity, a dilution of grace, and a failure to act on the Word." All in all it goes back to the idea of Jesus as our model. We may struggle with the call of the book's title 'How to think like Jesus' - but perhaps we can allow Jesus to model things for us and, if we can, it is probably worth remembering the open and receptive way in which Jesus approached everyone. As Manning says: "Jesus’s gentleness with sinners flowed from his ability to read their hearts and to detect the sincerity and essential goodness there. Behind people’s grumpiest poses or most puzzling defense mechanisms, behind their dignified airs, coarseness, or sneers, behind their silence or their curses, Jesus saw a little child who hadn’t been loved enough and who had ceased growing because those around him had ceased believing in him."

The Seven Storey Mountain

I have just finished reading Thomas Merton's "The Seven Storey Mountain", the fascinating autobiographical account of his quest for faith. Mderton has a very interesting 'early life' story, which this book recounts, ending with his admission to the Trappist Monastery at Gethsemani in Kentucky. He finished the book (published in 1948) in 1946 at the age of 31, five years after entering the monastery. Unsurprisingly, it describes many moments of exploration and of faith. Relatively near to the end of the book, Merton writes of his finding faith anc clarity on his call to the religious life: "It may seem irrational, but at that moment, it was as if scales fell off my own eyes, and looking back on all my worries and questions, I could see clearly how empty and futile they had been. Yes, it was obvious that I was called to the monastic life: and all my doubts about it had been mostly shadows. Where had they gained such a deceptive appearance of substance and reality? Accident and circumstances had all combined to exaggerate and distort things in my mind. But now everything was straight again. And already I was full of peace and assurance - the consciousness that everything was right, and that a straight road had opened out, clear and smooth, ahead of me." He also says: "I was free. I had recovered my liberty. I belonged to God, not to myself: and to belong to Him is to be free, free of all the anxieties and worries and sorrows that belong to this earth, and the love of the things that are in it. What was the difference between one place and another, one habit and another, if your life belonged to God, and if you placed yourself completely in His hands? The only thing that mattered was the fact of the sacrifice, the essential dedication of one's self, one's will, The rest was only accidental." A fascinating read with much of interest and many insights.

The Screwtape Letters

I recently re-read C S Lewis’s “The Screwtape Letters”, that fascinating construction of a conversation between an older and a younger devil, as they seek to lead their ‘clients’ astray. Despite its age, there is still plenty that is relevant there. For example, one might hope, but with a lack of certainty, that this picture of the church is somewhat inaccurate – “One of our great allies at present is the Church itself. Do not misunderstand me. I do not mean the Church as we see her spread out through all time and space and rooted in eternity, terrible as an army with banners. That, I confess, is a spectacle which makes our boldest tempters uneasy. But fortunately it is quite invisible to these humans. All your patient sees is the half-finished, sham Gothic erection on the new building estate. When he goes inside, he sees the local grocer with rather an oily expression on his face bustling up to offer him one shiny little book containing a liturgy which neither of them understands, and one shabby little book containing corrupt texts of a number of religious lyrics, mostly bad, and in very small print. When he gets to his pew and looks round him he sees just that selection of his neighbours whom he has hitherto avoided. You want to lean pretty heavily on those neighbours. Make his mind flit to and fro between an expression like “the body of Christ” and the actual faces in the next pew.” That suggests plenty to consider as to how we behave and how we are seen, and challenges us to present a rather different reality. We do need to get things right. As Lewis also reminds us through the correspondence, “To be greatly and effectively wicked a man (sic) needs some virtue.”

Church

We might define church as the ‘people of God’ and that has got to be good, but we human beings are fallible and, despite the wonderful influence of God’s holiness, that makes the church a damaged place. I recently read Barbara Brown Taylor’s “Leaving Church” in which she explores the complexities of her relationship with the church, in some ways summed up when she says: “Gradually I remembered what I had known all along, which is that church is not a stopping place but a starting place for discerning God’s presence in this world. By offering people a place where they may engage the steady practice of listening to divine words and celebrating divine sacraments, church can help people gain a feel for how God shows up—not only in Holy Bibles and Holy Communion but also in near neighbors, mysterious strangers, sliced bread, and grocery store wine. That way, when they leave church, they no more leave God than God leaves them. They simply carry what they have learned into the wide, wide world, where there is a crying need for people who will recognize the holiness in things and hold them up to God.” She adds: “What if people were invited to come tell what they already know of God instead of to learn what they are supposed to believe? What if they were blessed for what they are doing in the world instead of chastened for not doing more at church? What if church felt more like a way station than a destination? What if the church’s job were to move people out the door instead of trying to keep them in, by convincing them that God needed them more in the world than in the church?” Well, indeed – what if?

The Other Side of the Wall

I recently read Munther Isaac’s “The Other Side of the Wall”, sub-titled “A Palestinian Christian narrative of lament and hope.” It’s a fascinating and challenging read, starting from the basic presence of the Christian Palestinian presence. As Isaac points out: “Christianity in this land is as old as the Jesus movement. The first church was in Jerusalem and composed mainly of first-century Jews who believed in Jesus as the Messiah. Since then, there has always been a Christian presence in this land. Yet so often, as I already mentioned, people are surprised to know that there are Christians in Palestine. Rather, the surprise should come if we did not exist in Palestine! This is the place where it all started, after all.” He offers an entirely reasonable lament of the lack of recognition for those in his position. “Most pilgrims come to this land having only learned one narrative about this land—they see only Israel. In this version of the story, we do not exist, or maybe we do not matter. This is how the wall works; it diminishes both our history and our present.” Isaac explores the challenges facing Palestinian Christians. “We do not write theology in libraries; we write it at the checkpoint. We bring Christ in dialogue with the checkpoint. We simply ask, What would Jesus say or do if he were to stand in front of the wall today? What would he say or do if he were to stand at a checkpoint today for five or six meaningless hours? What would his message be to the Palestinian trying to cross it and to the Israeli soldiers stopping them? Answering these questions is one reason for writing this book.” He makes a fundamental point when he says: “In response to the contemporary question of whose land it is, we can say with confidence that the land does not belong to any people, nation, ethnicity, or religion. It belongs to God.” But he also says: “Remember the question, Where do I draw the lines? Jesus comes and removes the lines. There is no circle—there is no “us” and “them” when defining the neighbour! Everyone is a neighbour—and we are called by God to love them as ourselves. It is not a matter of choice. We cannot pick and choose our neighbours!” “Sharing the land is the biblical vision we see in the Hebrew Scriptures and thus must be the prophetic vision of the church in this land and all around the world. The reality on the ground is that of “walls,” yet what is needed is a vision of “bridges.” Palestinians and Israelis must think collectively in terms of a common future in which they cooperate with one another, not a divided future in which they are separate.” Of course, the book says a great deal more – and leaves one with, yes, a sense of both lament and hope. Surely there is a way to be found in which different groups can rightly be in such a special place.

Lenten Reflection

At the beginning of Lent, particularly on the first Sunday in Lent, traditionally is the time when we reflect on the temptations of Jesus. We are told that Jesus went off into the wilderness. We are actually told that the Spirit led him there. The wilderness is a bleak place, a lonely place, and there Jesus struggled as he reflected on the mission and ministry on which he was about to embark. How should it be approached? What were the priorities? When I was in the Holy Land, in December 2011, we drove from Jericho to Jerusalem and stopped on the way to get a brief experience of being in the wilderness. (Thus, the picture.) It was clearly very different from anything Jesus experienced to get off a mini bus and walk a couple of hundred of metres or so into the wilderness, but it was moving to spend that brief time there, and to reflect on the story of the temptations. The wilderness is a significant place. It can be a place of temptation or a place of reflective strengthening or, indeed, both. It is sometimes a struggle to get through it, but that needs to be done to get to the other side. It can be worth spending time in the wilderness, but few want to stay there too long. Interestingly, one of the other things I did in 2011, but earlier, in July, was to spend seven days at a Roman Catholic in centre on silent retreat. I had spent brief periods in silence before, but never more than a matter of hours. And, to be honest, I wondered how I would get on with seven days, my only conversation, twenty minutes or so each day, with a spiritual guide and attendance at a brief service of worship. That was my time of reflection and meditation, very different from Jesus’ wilderness experience, with good food and a comfortable bed apart from anything else, but an opportunity for a focussed time with God. And, by the way, I found it so helpful that it became the first of half a dozen or so such times across the latter years of my ministry, not always for as much as seven days, a couple were just three, though one was eight. Of course, most folk don’t get the opportunity for such an extended period of silence – and many would run a mile if it were offered, as I probably would have earlier in life. It is for us to each find our own way; but if Lent is about anything, it’s about really trying to find, even just a little, special time for God.

Speaking of Sin

I have just finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s “Speaking of Sin” and, as always, she has good things to say. Sin, as she recognises, has become an unfashionable theme, but that does not actually render it irrelevant. Part of the problem, though, is to fail to understand what it actually is, and another part is our inability to recognise the positive contribution that can be made when we recognise it in a good and useful way. As Taylor says, “I do not believe that sin is the enemy we often make it out to be, at least not when we recognize it and name it as such. When we see how we have turned away from God, then and only then do we have what we need to begin turning back. Sin is our only hope, the fire alarm that wakes us up to the possibility of true repentance.” She goes on to explore how we can engage with sin positively and how we might see it interacting with salvation. “Jesus might define salvation as recovery from illness or addiction, as forgiveness of debt, as peace between old enemies, as shared food in time of famine, or as justice for the poor. These are all outbreaks of health in a sin-sick world. Jesus saves because he shows us how to multiply such outbreaks, and because he continues to be present in them. Otherwise, we might call them good works or good luck. Instead, we have this sense that they come to us from outside of us. Our full participation is required, but that alone cannot explain the results, which are sometimes so astounding that we can only call them grace.” Perhaps the biggest problem with sin is that we don’t want to deal with it and its consequences in the way that we should. “Some Christians .. like to think of forgiveness as a giant eraser on the blackboard of life. But there is biblical precedent for the lasting effects of sins that have been forgiven. God forgave David for his murderous affair with Bathsheba, but their firstborn child still died. Jesus came to forgive the sins of the whole world, but according to his parable in Matthew 25, he will come again to separate the sheep from the goats. Forgiveness is a starting place, not a stopping place. It is God's gift to those who wish to begin again, but where we go with it gets up to us. … Most of us prefer remorse to repentance. We would rather feel badly about the damage we have done than get estimates on the cost of repair. We'd rather live with guilt than face the hard work of new life.” To quote the book’s title, ‘speaking of sin’ …..

Travels with a Stick

I recently read Richard Frazer's book “Travels with a Stick” in which he recounts something of his experiences walking a significant chunk of the Camino de Santiago. I always enjoy books about the Camino – I have read just a few, but it is encouraging to enter the experience of the pilgrims and inevitably hear something of their reflections. Richard is a Church of Scotland minister, now retired, but at the time of his pilgrimage and writing, the minister of Greyfriars Kirk in Edinburgh, so reflections with a distinctively Scottish and Presbyterian note which struck a particular chord with me. For example, I do like his reflection on Communion, with the interesting challenge that he throws in with the help of a friend of his. He writes: “The central part of the liturgy that most people know is the communion, the sharing of bread and wine that Jesus did on the night he was betrayed and arrested. Christians have been doing that since before they had Bibles, which is an interesting point to make to fellow Reformed Presbyterians who have often made a much bigger thing of the Bible than of the communion. In John's Gospel, on that last night before his arrest, Jesus doesn't share bread and wine; instead he washes his disciples’ feet. A priest friend of mine pointed out recently that the Christian church might have been quite a different organisation if we washed each other's feet every week!” One other example – I am also challenged by a reflection he offers on how folk see the church. He says: “In so many places the church has become an anxious institution, obsessed with its own self-preservation and nostalgic for a lost golden age. But here on the journey of the pilgrim, people just set off, not being sure, not being fettered by institutional boundaries, journeying with hope and even being prepared to get a little lost. Isn't this, I was beginning to think, a much more helpful approach to encounter mystery than the proscribed, dogmatic structure of institutions that often operate in a way that no longer makes sense to so many people?” Some interesting thoughts, inspired by what was clearly a fascinating and challenging experience. One last quote - “To be a pilgrim you don't have to jump through hoops or sign up to doctrines you'd rather question - you just have to set off! Indeed, that is what the first ever pilgrim, Abraham, did. Ripe in years, he just upped and left Haran with his equally ancient wife, Sarah, and the rest is history, as it were.”

Incarnational Ministry

I have just finished re-reading Sam Wells’ “Incarnational Ministry” – and so enjoyed its many words of wisdom. There are so many things to inspire. For example, on the Martha and Mary story, he writes: “Martha says she’s serving Jesus, but her notion of service is entirely on her own terms: she’s not giving him what he wants. Mary’s service doesn’t look like much, but it’s a statement of faith. Martha offers food; Mary shares communion.” Then, there are those things which are almost throwaway lines, like “I believe “with” is the most important word in the Christian faith.” There’s a lot there that is worth some reflection. Thinking about how we might interact with all that’s wrong in the world, he suggests, “Lament comes from a place of deep trust in the faithfulness of God and deep awe at the mystery of creation, which finds itself dismayed at the deep disgrace of events that surely reflect neither God’s character nor God’s will.” And then some words about engaging with the Bible – “Reading the Bible requires attention, delight, and enjoyment as well as entering into a mystery. The initial experience can be like reading a poem and finding oneself perplexed.” There is a lot more I would like to mention, but let me restrict myself to just one more, some great words of exhortation – “Wash one another’s feet, be the servant and slave of all, make every act of your life a sacrament of love to others and praise to God: for your existence is a miracle, and your redemption is amazing grace. And never cease from singing.” I can see this is a book I might well read yet again.

Michael Hollings

I recently read “Press On!” a book about Michael Hollings, his life and witness, which caught my eye in one of Hay-on-Wye’s many bookshops, when we were on holiday there earlier this year. Michael (1921-1997) was a remarkable man, a Roman Catholic priest for most of his life, after wartime service with the Coldstream Guards. He served in Soho, then as university chaplain in, first, London, and then Oxford, and then as parish priest in, first, Southall, and then Bayswater, that last from 1978 to 1997. He was particularly known for his availability to people, both through his firm open house lifestyle and his spiritual direction and letters, and also for his writing. The book, written by a number of friends and colleagues, commemorates his life by telling his story. The book reflects his wisdom and the wonderful way in which he pointed folk to God. For example, in a letter to his cousin Jock Dalrymple, when Jock was studying for the priesthood, he writes: “So long as you're striving after God, and fearing you're not getting anywhere, you are doing all right. Don't panic and don't over push; just keep going. It is when we sit back and get self-contented that we are slipping back and danger signals are showing.” Joan McCrimmon, for many years his publisher, speaks of how he demonstrated the Christian life: “Prayer for him was not only about making requests to God, it was about sharing our feelings, our fears, our guilt, our sadness, loss, anger and frustration. It was about coping with life situations. Nor was it all doom and gloom - far from it. Prayer was very clearly also about celebrating life's joys and achievements, and giving thanks.” Needless to say, I never met him, but I was certainly aware of him, especially in my early ministry, and three of his books – all of which I still have – were important and helpful to me – “I Will Be There”, a series of reflections on the ‘I am’ sayings in John’s Gospel; “Day By Day”, reflections on prayer; and, most especially “Living Priesthood”, in which he explores ministry and its various dimensions.

Celebrating Life

I recently read Jonathan Sacks' "Celebrating Life" in which he dips into all sorts of themes looking for, and finding, the positive. The book reflects its sub-title "Finding Happiness in Unexpected Places". Just a couple examples of the book's themes. One is faith. Sacks writes: "Faith is not certainty. It is the courage to live with uncertainty. It is not knowing all the answers. It is often the strength to live with the questions. It is not a sense of invulnerability. It is the knowledge that we are utterly vulnerable, but that it is precisely in our vulnerability that we reach out to God, and through this learn to reach out to others, able to understand their fears and doubts. We learn to share, and in sharing discover the road to freedom. It is only because we are not gods that we are able to discover God.” He also writes about change, something which we all seem to find challenging. “Change is not threatening, so long as we keep firm hold of the values by and for which we live. We can travel with confidence so long as we have a map. We can jump with safety knowing there is someone to catch us as we fall. It is when we lose these things that change creates anxiety. It is when we think that, because technology is changing, our values too must change that we create problems we cannot solve, fear we cannot confront.”

Defenceless Flower

I have just re-read Carlos Mesters’ “Defenceless Flower”, which has been on my bookshelf for many years, though it is also many years since I read it. Mesters explores the use of the Bible from a liberationist perspective in a highly engaging way, recognising the value of scholarship and traditional and academic techniques of interpretation, but juxtaposing these with, and recognising the equal value, of the Bible as the mirror of the people’s lives. Mesters says this: “The great majority of people in the basic ecclesial communities are poor or, more exactly, impoverished by the oppressive capitalist system; they are farmers, workers, people from the outskirts of the big cities, farmhands, day-labourers, occasional workers, migrants, domestic servants, laundry-women, squatters, and so forth. When these people deal with the Bible their attitude is not (yet) secularised. For them the Bible is the word of God giving them God's message today. ……. When they discuss a text the people at the same time discuss their own situation, without making much of a distinction, either on the level of methodology or content. Biblical history, without ceasing to be history, becomes a symbol or a mirror of the present situation as the people experience it in their community. Life and Bible mix. There is both mutual interference and illumination.” He also says: “In the people's eyes the Bible and life are connected. When they open the Bible they want to find in it things directly related to their lives, and in their lives they want to find events and meanings that parallel those in the Bible. Spontaneously they use the Bible as an image, symbol or mirror of what is happening to them here and now.” Here is a timely reminder to allow the Bible to engage appropriately with each and every context.

Revisiting 'The Shack'

I recently read C Baxter Kruger’s “The Shack Revisited.” It’s a while now since I read William Paul Young’s “The Shack”, his fascinating ‘story’ of relating to God. This was a timely reminder that it deserves another reading, but also an opportunity to delve into some of the theological themes and ideas that underpin ‘The Shack’, as that is Kruger’s purpose in his volume. In summary, perhaps inevitably, but certainly importantly, ‘The Shack’ is concerned with God’s amazing love. As Kruger says, “We are known, loved and delighted in by the Father, Son, and Spirit, just as we are, whether we believe in God or not. The truth is we have already been embraced by Jesus’ Papa and by the Spirit. That is what the coming of Jesus was all about. The blessed Trinity has already met us in our shacks. In Jesus they have pitched their tents inside our garbage cans. We belong to the Father, Son, and Spirit. We always have, and always will; Jesus has seen to that personally.” The gospel point is that God wants to connect with us. Kruger again – “The stunning truth is that this triune God, in amazing and lavish love, determined to open the circle and share the trinitarian life with others.” How fantastic is that!

Interpreting Mark

I decided to re-read some of the books that have been on my shelf a long time. First up on this particular project has been “A Poor Man Called Jesus” by José Cárdenas Pallares, sub-titled “Reflections on the Gospel of Mark.” The book is very much reflections, rather than commentary, but I enjoyed the insights of Pallares’ liberationist perspective. He clearly identifies Jesus’ ‘poverty’ and aligns him with those struggling and marginalised. As he states: “The cause of Jesus is the cause of a God who is inseparably united with all the exploited. The God of Jesus, and Jesus himself, are, before all else, liberation, measureless love, hope, and life.” There is a strong emphasis on poverty - “Jesus was a poor person, and he was committed to the poorest of the poor from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He spoke the language of the poor. He felt the sorrows and joys of the poor, and he met death in a manner reserved for the poor.” What I really liked about the book was the way in which it challenges us with what I might call real gospel stuff. The church is not in an easy place, but it is God’s church. As Pallares says, referring to Peter and indeed the whole incarnation story - “With Peter’s denial Mark shows us a church of sinners. of cowards and one which is not ashamed to admit it. The church Mark presents to us is a community well aware that it is never safe and secure, not even in its most selfless and disinterested members, and that the only thing it has to rely on is the forgiveness of Jesus Christ. He shows us a church that can switch from denial to repentance thanks only to a Christ crushed and tortured. Christ grants to this church a partial expense of his own pain and sorrow. The risen Christ gathers together cowards, renegades, and traitors to fill them with the indestructible force of his love.”