Tag Archives: freedom

Chapter 29: readmittance of departed brothers

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A brother who has left the monastery, either through his faults or by expulsion, and wishes to return must first promise the complete amending of the fault.

Can we welcome back?

I am taking a short break from Riding Lights Summer Theatre School to write this post. Our theme at the summer school this year is ‘Peace: Make It or Break It’ and I want to write a bit more about ‘reconciliation’ in the light of ‘peace’.
In this week’s chapter, St. Benedict challenges us with even more radical hospitality and grace towards those that cause conflict and division. His compassion and grace is matched by a firm resolve to remain committed to those that hurt and upset him and he calls us to do the same. This resolve to welcome back a previously unrepentant monk is granting that brother the chance to experience grace and forgiveness.
I have written, in the past, on the social tool, ‘Open Space Technology’. This means of discussion has several principles to facilitate multiple creative conversations to occur and to be united together by a common goal or desire. There is also one ‘law’: the law of mobility that suggests that if a participant is not learning or contributing in a particular conversation they should leave and move else where,

In this way, all participants are given both the right and the responsibility to maximize their own learning and contribution, which the Law assumes only they, themselves, can ultimately judge and control. When participants lose interest and get bored in a breakout session, or accomplish and share all that they can, the charge is to move on, the “polite” thing to do is going off to do something else.

I had real difficulty with this aspect of Open Space Technology but I have come to realize, through experience, that it is not about self-autonomy but about the necessity for us to step out of the heat of relationship before it breaks irrecoverably, to gather some perspective, to admit weakness both on the part of ourselves and the others involved and to make a decision as to where to go next. We all are autonomous to a greater or lesser degree; God has given us free will to use, to choose what we do and where we go. Some people will abuse that freedom and cause harm to others or demand their choice is held in higher esteem than others but it is in that freedom we are advised to discover the beauty of real relationship; with God and with others.

Phalim McDermott, Artistic Director of Improbable and an Open Space practitioner, once talked with me about this law and said there’s a reason it is sometimes called the law of two feet (even if those feet are only metaphorical). The first foot is used to retreat from a place, to propel you out. The second is the more important foot for it is used to send you to the next place. That place could be back into the group you left, to repent, to turn back or it could be to go somewhere new. I once noted,

What the law of two feet does do is enable the whole to function and feed itself. The parts need to be attuned to where the information may need to be passed to in order to grow and develop and create. When this happens then the second foot is an important engagement of the individual with the whole. It is not clear, however, if this indeed is how it is used.

In order for community to function it requires the parts to freely choose to participate in the whole. This commitment will require a handing over of a certain amount of autonomy for the ‘common good’. It mustn’t, however, lose all traces of freedom of choice as that free element contains the free choice to commit and to love. Communities are healthy when they hold that tension between the individual choice and the relational imperative. St. Benedict has balanced this to give space for people to be removed without a door being locked to them.

The three strikes aspect maintains the need for the community to be protected so one person’s will is not encouraged and fed so they take the power on themselves completely; for relationships that are based around only one person’s desires are abusive and unbalanced. This aspect of St. Benedict’s Rule, I feel, allows the gracious hospitality of reconciliation without compromising the strong encouragement to challenge our selfish tendencies as fallen humanity. It is radical in that it challenges while, at the same time, welcomes.

Reflection

After a breakdown of relationship how do we give space to the possibility of reconciliation? Do we really hope and pray for such healing to happen? I can talk for ages on my desire to be reconciled to someone who has hurt me but do I actively give space and time for that to happen? It’s far easier to cut the ties with them and move on. To seek healing means to allow mess to exist close by and our lives to be impacted by it. The real path to reconciliation and peace is working hard at entering into painful and difficult spaces to take the battering of relationship breakdown holding onto hope. We, as Christians, enter into conflict with our sights fixed on the end promise that all things will be re-bound together through Christ who is the source of all things and the goal of all things.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.
And you who were once estranged and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death, so as to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him— provided that you continue securely established and steadfast in the faith, without shifting from the hope promised by the gospel that you heard. (Colossians 1:15-23)

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.(2 Corinthians 5:16-20)

Loving Father, I thank you for your grace that despite my many failings and stepping away from you you always welcome me home. The door is open. You do not force your will on us but call us to accept the task you desire. Transform my heart to be more like yours, flexible and open yet steadfast in love. Teach me to reconcile and to participate in your ministry of bringing all things together for good.

Come, Lord Jesus

Home

home-sweet-home

We search for home;
We fantasise, we dream.
We pass through its hearth and warmth
In the pursuit of another’s sweet embrace.
We knock at its neighbour’s door
Enquiring about their provisions,
Measuring to see if they will house.
Then we return home
To decide when we can move.
We sleep in home’s bed, dreaming
Of one day achieving the rest
Of an imagined pillow that holds our head.

We run and run to grass always greener
And quickly forget which shade we were comparing.
We search and journey to find the elusive
And have fallen in love with the motif of quest
When what we truly desire is a place to belong.
We travel around the globe
To experience the new
Because the old has got under our skin
And has found out what’s there.
The old uncomfortably knows us
And we are scared of what it might say.

The braver person is not
The one who breaks new ground
And travels the world,
Discovers fresh territories
And explores the unknown;
No. The braver person is
The one who stays and allows
Their inner world to reveal its hidden-ness,
The wide empty spaces,
The dark corners and the questionable characters
That will take you for a ride
And milk you for all you’ve got.
It is in this inner place
You discover a landscape
Of immeasurable beauty
And a tranquility that surpasses location.

To know the riches of beyond externals
Is the fruit of the noblest task.
Home is not found nor made
From the vapour of our own imaginings;
It is forged in the fire of commitment,
The pressure of staying
And the searing heat of vulnerability.
The risk of relationship costs
More than any flight, visa or relocation;
All these put together and more besides
But the pay off can not be contained
In a bank balance, travel guide or holiday snaps.

Home is not just where the ones you love are,
It is where the ones you have wrestled with
And have stayed are.
Home is where you learn
That real love surprises you
By hiding under discord and alienation.
Home is where the heart beats
In a rhythm that Time has trained and honed;
A tempo that when you are anywhere else
Jars and irks and begins to lose itself.

Home is where obedience
Is rewarded with freedom;
Where one can grow
Thanks to the roots
And flourish
Thanks to the soil.

Written after a weekly Burning Fences gathering at El Piano, York where we shared reflections on what we are looking for in our individual futures. The common theme of ‘home’ emerged. This was then read at a Burning Fences event called ‘Family’ on Sunday 11th May 2014.

Crucify-ID

It’s cold outside and the wind is fierce,
Even the sun burns our skin.
We gather up the scraps and the clothing
That generations past have walked in.
We protect ourselves with well worn characters.
We wear them like fashion well out of date
We fight back the feeling of desperate isolation
of being outside the bourgeoisie which we hate.
We grasp onto survival by waiting,
Holding out for the affirmation of ‘retro’
Worse still we cling to these dying idols
Straining to point out their elusive echoes.

We are so thirsty for self,
So parched for identity,
So mind numbingly, blind hungry for static,
Certain understanding of what the fuck is going on
That we sell ourselves to the highest bidder.

Humility, it has been said,
Is not thinking less of yourself,
But thinking of yourself less.
This is neat and catchy, sure,
But one man tried it and found that he was dead.
But this man is remembered because he also said,
He was the revealed character of God, that’s why he bled.

Now if this is true,
And it may not be,
And God strips his masks
Then so should we.
If this is the character
Written in our DNA,
Before the world began.
Then this is the way
For a character to never go out of fashion
Because it’s not even about fashion
But about freedom and compassion
To enjoy others with love and with passion
Free from the identities given in rations.

Crucify them,
I cry.
Crucify them.
Hang them to die.
Crucify them.
Follow the character who defied.
Crucify them.
Release them and sigh.
Crucify them.

Crucify them.

Crucify them…

Written for a Burning Fences on Wednesday 12th March 2014 as an introduction to a discussion on Peter Rollins ideas (Crucified Identities)

Freedom

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Freedom is a word,
Easily spoken,
Easily heard.

Freedom is a phrase,
Easily used,
Easily phased.

Freedom is an idea,
Often misunderstood.
We all think that we want it
But only because we should.

Because freedom is something
Surprisingly hard to live.
It’s thought in terms of how we take it
But no one considers how to give.

The forgotten secret is
It is we who oppress us,
It’s our self-identities, personal choice
and free wills that suppress us.

Before you baulk
And run a mile,
Consider this, pause,
Reflect a while:

We all love freedom
When it suits us best.
‘Surely freedom won’t challenge,
Upset me or test.’

It’s us with our fake freedom
Which ultimately binds us.
True freedom is what I wait for
And I hope to God, will find us.

If I am the captive
To whom He comes to free
Who are my real captors
And how have they bound me?

Our worldview and our culture,
Built from Reason, long ago,
Has led us to a place
Where depression’s our status quo.

I don’t want freedom
If it leads me to self harm,
Twisted confusion as to where we are
Lost beyond all calm.

This fake freedom stinks
It’s odour easily blinds us
Yes, true freedom is what I wait for
And I hope to God it finds us!

Written for a Burning Fences event called ‘Liberate’ on Sunday 9th March 2014

Lovers of Chains

They sat with their arms above their heads, the blood having drained from them weeks ago. Conversation had dried and their eyes hadn’t felt tears for months. Every crack of light was now a disruption of the darkness and no longer the desired contact with a world beyond the four walls. Every noise was an imposition on the silence, a silence filled with their comforting lists of hopes lost.

They had resisted arrest; they had fought against captivity but there was a moment when they weakened but they no longer remember the details. The barriers of self-preservation had crumbled once one brick of integrity had shifted. How quickly they had settled into routine! How easily they had embraced the chains that bound them!
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Whilst the shackles found the grooves in their skin to make their home, the two men impotently discussed release, escape and freedom. This conversation became as mundane as asking about the weather and the reality of it became a dream, became a fantasy, became rhetoric empty of power. They no longer imagined life outside although they spoke of nothing else.

Days became weeks became months became years and the chains began to keep their wrists warm. The gloom was their natural habitat and their eyes were native to the dimness and still the poetic proclamation of liberty echoed in the emptiness of the cold, hard walls of their imprisonment. Cycles of conversation and expressions settled into a rhythm of seasons and they no longer measured Time outside of these recitals of exchanges of dreams.

sep8Where he came from, neither of them knew. How he got past their captors; who could say? He was either a fraud, one of the warders provoking them for his own amusement; or their captors had fled leaving the cell unguarded; or it was a miracle. None of this mattered much as he walked over to them and spoke.

“Do you want to be free?”

His voice was soft. It was not a weak whisper but a powerful authoritative bass that seemed to hold all other voices in tune. It had no need to clammer to be heard or strain to carry any strength.

The simple answer became lodged in the prisoners’ throats, desperate to be released into reality. It remained, snared in its place as the silence enveloped and overpowered them. As muteness overwhelmed them, doubt took its grip and finally fear pinned them: What if it was a trick? How was this even possible? Where had he come from? Where would he take them?

“Do you want to be free?”

“How did you get here?” they stuttered.

“You have nothing to fear. I have been sent to set you free.”

By whom? For what? Why now and not before? Before they accepted any offer of liberty they wanted to know that where they were being led to would be better than this oppression. This stranger needed to earn their trust.

The two captives waited for him to make a move but he just stood there. There was no apparent rush, no captors running in to stop their release… where were their guards? Had they been overthrown? Had they fled? Or were they waiting outside? Their thoughts and questions were beholden on the condition of their captors but through all of the uncertainty bombarding their minds the stranger remained steadfast before them. His face showed no impatience. He waited for an answer. After a time he sat down.

“They can no longer keep you,” he said, as if reading their thoughts. “Do you want to be free?”

“Yes.”

The word hit the walls of their enclosure and echoed on the stone cavity despite being released weakly from the cages of their mouths.

They had spoken of freedom so often but now it seemed so real. The visitor stood and walked towards the first prisoner and pulled at his shackles. To their amazement they slipped easily off their wrists. The newly released man gasped, in part in relief but more so at the ease at which his chains fell. How had that not been possible before? He had tried, in the early days, almost every night to squeeze his hands through but they were tight around his skin. In the hands of their liberator, however, they crumbled like sand.

Once he had been freed the other came just as easily and in no time they both were standing in the darkened room, free of their chains.

“That was the easy part,” the man said with a smile, “Shall we?” he gestured to the door.

Through the door a soft light spilt into the room. It was not bright and the prisoners thought it must be a corridor with little to no natural light or it was night time. Then they were struck by the realisation that they no longer had any concept of Time; they were so programmed by their oppressors, that life, independent from them and the rhythm and restrictions governed by them, was alien to the prisoners; out of tune. How were they to function now? They no longer remembered reality as free-men.

“Follow me.”

The enigmatic emancipator began to leave. As he passed the threshold he turned and held out his hand. His wrists were scarred, marked with the shape of fetters long since freed from.

“You can hold onto me. You must be weak on your legs.”

It was true, they were out of practice and they stumbled towards the door and the gentle man who stood in its frame.
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File0042594Through the doors they saw their guards sleeping soundly. It seemed so strange – no – illogical that they could slumber during a rescue mission in the jail they were meant to watch. The whole incident was feeling so mysterious and implausible; a dream with no reason. Yet this man kept leading them down the corridor towards a bright light; the final exit to freedom.

As they finally reached the escape to liberation they turned back for one final sight of their home for the last years. They felt a fondness towards that place; the predictability, the certainty and steadiness of their life in the embrace of the enclosure. The two men had built a life together.

In the walk between their cave and the infinite unknowns that lay outside they began to consider the life they were about to embark on; a life they had talked and dreamt of for so long but never contemplated possible. It felt so scary and paralyzing now. Whilst salvation was a fantasy within their heads, it was guarded, protected, boxed in and manageable; in the stark reality it was vast, un-wielding and oh so debilitating.

As they looked back the guards began to wake and stand. They started to walk towards their prisoners. They seemed afraid, wary and disarmed. Their eyes were fixed on the third man who stood between oppressor and oppressed.

“Go. You don’t need to fear. Go,” he said but they could not.

They remained fixed to the spot staring at their masters as they came closer.

What happened next remains the most shocking and mysterious part of the whole story. One which I will never be able to explain.

My friend, companion and fellow slave turned and smiled. He said nothing but it was like he was pleading with me to stay. I stared back, unsure and helpless. His head dropped and he walked back to our cell. The guards embraced him and sent him on his way into the comforting darkness at the end of the corridor.

I called to him but he never heard me or he chose not to respond. My liberator faced me, looked me in the eye and said,

“I have come to set you free. Choose freedom.”

With that he followed after my friend. The jailers allowed him to pass but did not touch him. They showed no power over him and were clearly uncomfortable in his presence. Before the door was closed, the stranger turned and said words that echo in my head even today,

“Some people love their chains too much to be free. Others choose the chains of freedom and overpower all oppression.”