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.”

Maktub

I have been reading Paulo Coelho’s “Maktub”, a collection of sayings, stories, parables, bits of wisdom. There’s a lot that provokes reflection, much of it inspiring and/or challenging. I was particularly struck by one entry: “A novice asked Abbot Nisteros in the Scetis monastery: “What should I do in order to please God?” The abbot responded: “Abraham welcomed strangers, and God was pleased. Elijah disliked strangers, and God was pleased. David was proud of what he did, and God was pleased. The tax collector in the temple felt ashamed of what he did, and God was pleased. John the Baptist went into the wilderness, and God was pleased. Jonah went to the great city of Nineveh, and God was pleased. Ask your soul what it wants to do. When our soul is in agreement with its dreams, that fills God with joy.””

Cancer and the Cross

Chris Kemshell’s “Cancer and the Cross” is a powerful and inspirational read. I found it intensely moving but that is, at least in part, because I have shared some of the journey with Chris and his wife, Lucy. I was the Synod Moderator when Chris was ordained in 2013, and so presided at his ordination, and held that role until the end of 2020 so shared something of the original trauma of the diagnosis and have watched Chris as he has dealt with what this has thrown at him. Of course, Chris has struggled, but I am incredibly impressed with how he has coped, and the book is very reflective of the Chris I know. I am so glad that he can say, as he does relatively near the beginning: “My weakness is almost becoming my strength in that I am becoming increasingly dependent on God due to my diagnosis. In a bizarre way, I am thankful for my situation and can relate completely to Paul’s claim in 2 Corinthians 12:10: “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”” Chris cites a lot of Scripture as he writes, but that’s no bad thing. What comes through is his trust in God. I was on a long plane journey, but it is still unusual for me to read a book from start to finish without putting it down, but that’s how it grabbed my attention.

The Dark Night

I recently read Gerald May’s “The Dark Night of the Soul: A Psychiatrist Explores the Connection Between Darkness and Spiritual Growth”, a helpful and thoughtful read in which May reflects on some of the things with which we struggle. As he says at the beginning: “The bad news is that bad things happen to everyone, and they have nothing to do with whether you are a good or bad person, how effectively you’ve taken charge of your life, or how carefully you have planned for the future. The good news, or at least part of it, is that good things happen to everyone too.” May draws on the thinking and writing of St John of the Cross and St Teresa of Avila, demonstrating the contemporary relevance of their perspectives. In particular, he makes the point that a so called dark night is not a one-off, but something that recurs. Things will neither be constantly good, nor constantly bad. As May puts it: “I have repeatedly suggested that, contrary to popular assumptions, the dark night is not a single event in one’s life that one undergoes and then somehow moves beyond. Instead, I have characterized the night as the ongoing spiritual process of our lives. We have periodic conscious experiences of it, but it continues at all times, hidden within us. We are aware of only the experiences that come to our consciousness. Thus what someone else might call “going through the dark night” I would call “having an experience of the dark night.” That’s worth remembering when things are not going well, but probably also when life is great!

A Cry for Mercy

I recently read Henri Nouwen’s “A Cry for Mercy”, one of the few of Nouwen’s books that I had not previously read, and quite different from others of his writings in that it largely consists of a collection of written prayers. The book is the fruit of one of his periods living with the Trappist Monks of the Abbey of the Genesee in upstate New York. This period of retreat took place in 1979, following on from an earlier such period in 1974. It clearly meant a great deal to Nouwen and the prayers reflect a lively, if at times challenging, engagement with God. He introduces each section, or theme, for prayer with a brief reflection. For example, he reflects: “I wonder if fear is not our main obstacle to prayer. When we enter into the presence of God and start to sense that huge reservoir of fear in us, we want to run away into the many distractions which our bust world offers us so abundantly. But we should not be afraid of our fears.” Another point of challenge is expressed as he prays: “Lord, I will not bind you with my own limited and limiting ideas and feelings. You can do so many things with me, things that might seem totally impossible to me. I want at least to remain open to the free movement of your Spirit in my life. Why do I keep saying to myself: “I will never be a saint. I will never be able to overcome my impulses and desires.” If I keep saying that, I might prevent you from healing and touching me deeply.”

I Julian

I recently read Claire Gilbert’s “I Julian”. It is a fictional autobiography of Julian of Norwich – if there can be such a thing! But the book demonstrated for me that there can – as Claire Gilbert’s skilful retelling of the imagined story of Julian of Norwich as from Julian’s own perspective offered plenty of food for thought and inspiration. It was well worth the read, offering a moving account of the very likely life and thoughts of Julian of Norwich. It certainly provokes the reader to reflect on the immensity of God’s love – “the failures are what make me, forge me, teach me, that if God loves me so much in my failures and my trying then I must love that child, that young woman, that weakling of a hermit that I am. Jesu thanks me, not for my success, but for my failure and my trying.”

Lydia

I recently read Paula Gooder’s “Lydia”, a fascinating and creative look at the possible context of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, focussing on the person of Lydia. Paula imagines what might have been the life and experiences of Lydia and how that might have fitted the life of the Philippian church. Though certainly identified as imagined, there is careful history and theology behind the account. It might well have been like this. The book is separated into two sections. In the first part she gives her account of what Lydia’s story might have been while, in the second, she offers a lot of history and theology with helpful notes on various people, situations and things of the time that are mentioned in the story. I found it a great read, especially enjoying the first part, and found it to offer valuable insights into the life and times of the apostle Paul. Notably, the focus on Lydia offers a useful reminder of the valued role of women in the early church.

Valuing the Dark

I have just finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s “Learning to Walk in the Dark”, a fascinating and challenging exploration of the value of darkness. Taylor points out the things that are missed in our tendency to emphasise the overwhelming value of the light and to avoid the dark. We tend to want to get rid of the dark, but Taylor reminds us of its value, pointing out: “I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.” We do need the light, but we also need the dark and trying to avoid that impoverishes our experience. But, as Taylor recognises, that is often how it is. She comments: “I realise that in a whole lifetime spent with seekers of enlightenment, I have never once heard anyone speak in hushed tones about the value of 'endarkenment'. The great mystics of the Christian tradition all describe it as part of the journey into God, but it has been a long time since ‘The Cloud of Unknowing’ was on anyone's bestseller list. Today’s seekers seem more interested in getting God to turn the lights on than in allowing God to turn them off.” The point is that the dark has a value that is not found in the light, and that is different from the light, but just as valuable in providing us with a whole experience of God. Reflecting on the contribution of St. John of the Cross to such ideas, Taylor stresses how valuing the dark keeps us on track with God. She says: “God puts out our lights to keep us safe, John says, because we are never more in danger of stumbling than when we think we know where we are going. When we can no longer see the path we are on, when we can no longer read the maps were brought with us or sense anything in the dark that might tell us where we are, then and only then are we vulnerable to God's protection. This remains true even when we cannot discern God's presence. The only thing the dark night requires of us is to remain conscious. If we can stay with the moment in which God seems most absent. The night will do the rest.”

Some Truth About Church

I have just finished reading Samuel Wells' "Speaking the Truth". It's sub-titled "Preaching in a Diverse Culture" and includes a multitude of fascinating insights about both preaching and culture, and indeed a whole bunch of other stuff. It's a great book of modelling for preachers, but also with a lot to say to all sorts of other people and, of course, that is just what the sermons which Wells quotes in the book originally did. There was lots that interested me, but particularly a few comments about church. Wells is highly realistic about church, but importantly recognises that church is how Jesus' way is expressed. For instance, he says: "Jesus didn't give us perfection, he gave us church. And church means facing up every day to the way we've failed God, failed one another and failed ourselves. Church means entering every day into the cycle of repentance and confession and forgiveness and reconciliation and healing." Of course, church is not perfect, but it's where we are called to be; it's what we are called to do. As Wells says elsewhere in the book: "Church isn't a place where we identify and lambast Pharisees while searching out and applauding tax collectors: it's a community where we meet one another, learn the complexity and texture of one another's stories, wonder at the grace and mercy by which our paths have crossed, realise with gratitude that our salvation lies in one another, and turn together in humility to recognise, like never before, our need of God."