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.