Tag Archives: holy

keno charis: ruptured for you (a liturgy for Burning Fences)

(Burning Fences is a small community based in York which is exploring how to sing a new song in the rubble of an old world. I led this as an evening exploring the Trinity for my
fellow ‘sparrows’.)

People enter a small upper room above the city. there is a low table and cushions surrounding it.

On the low table are three bowls each with a question by it and there’s a chalice and plate set up. People are invited to write on scraps of paper responses to the following questions and put them into one of three bowls:

What is your ultimate question?

What is your biggest doubt?

What is missing?

When all are settled drinks for the evening are ordered. This often individualistic action is challenged with the following, seemingly restrictive commands: Everyone is to be responsible for one drink order, it cannot be their own. They, therefore, must take responsibility for another’s order. That other person cannot be the one who is responsible for their own order; the two must find a third who then links to another group…

The evening begins when the drinks order is sent downstairs.

Three people begin by reading the following,

Person 1: In an upper room, not unlike this one, the Lord stood amongst friends and shared.

Person 2: In another upper room, not unlike this one, the Lord stood amongst friends and breathed.

Person 3: In a third upper room, not unlike this one, the Lord stood amongst friends and transformed.

Narrator: Tonight we’re going to explore a mystery through three stories of upper rooms. Three and yet one. It’s one story but three points. It’s three ideas that make up one narrative. Three parts to this one mystery…

Story 1. In a tight, cramped, claustrophobic space, in a darkened corner above the city, the prophet rabbi Jesus sat amongst friends. They would meet regularly and share stories, questions, songs. There was no pattern, no formula, no entry requirement, just a desire. It was not a shared ideology or philosophy that bound them together but a shared desire… to know what it was about this rabbi who had chosen to be with them.

Despite their doubts, despairs, disillusionment, they desired, above all, to discover. To discover a way to be free. Self help, private thoughts, individualism had led to self imprisonment and they were tired of being alone. They were like sparrows desiring a hedge to call home.

Liturgy of the Sparrows

We are the sparrows who are claiming back the hedges.

Response: We are the sparrows that will not be satisfied with twigs.

We are the sparrows that are crying out for our hedges.

Response: We are the sparrows that are weary from singing lonely songs.

In our hedge, where we feel safe again,

Response: we seek our social life back, and the sooner the better.

In our hedge, where we talk things over,

Response: we make decisions, laugh if we want to and sing.

This is our story, this is our song,

and we’ll live it till it’s our reality.

A song about home is shared.

Narrator: Story 1. In a tight, cramped, claustrophobic space, in a darkened corner above the city, the prophet rabbi Jesus showed them how to be a holy community…

The narrator gets a bowl and pours warm water into it. He invites someone to have their hands washed. The act of hand washing is a more culturally applicable version of foot washing in the near east culture of Jesus. There’s an element of cleansing and preparation for food as well as retaining the intimacy of foot washing. As the narrator washes the other’s hands he says,

You have to let me wash your hands in order for me to show you love. If you refused I would not be able to show you my care for you. Allowing me to bless you with this gift is a gift to me. You have allowed me to have a relationship with you. Thank you.

The narrator passes out bowls of water and invites others to sit and receive from one another. 

During all of this music is played.

When all have been washed one has left and returned with food and the drinks. Each member should pay more attention for another’s drinks than their own. All are invited to eat.

Who’d like to tell a story of a time when have you felt closest to someone else?

A time of storytelling.

Story 2. In a tight, cramped, claustrophobic space, in a darkened corner of the city, the friends sat. Huddled together in fear. Bereft. Present in body only. Absent in other respect. They had lost. Lost their nerve. Lost the fight. Lost the will. Lost Him. The prophet. Their rabbi.

He had said to them, when he was in the upper room, that he would give everything he had; he would give his life for them. He would not withdraw from the consequences of his love for them. He would be taken and drained of life. He would allow it to happen. He chose to allow it to happen. He chose to allow all people to do what they desired most because he loved.

And now he’s gone. They had lost. The thing that had brought them all together; the person who had called them to each other had left. They had hoped it was forever but he had disappointed. A vacuum now existed in their midst like empty plates where once was food. An absence where once was presence.

A song about loss is shared.

Story 2. In a tight, cramped, claustrophobic space, in a darkened corner of the city, the friends sat and embraced the abyss with all their questions:

One of the bowls that contains the responses to the question ‘What is your ultimate question?’ is passed round and the answers are read out.

The friends sat and embraced the abyss with all their doubts.

The other bowl with the responses to the question ‘What is your biggest doubt?’ is passed round and the answers read out.

The friends sat and embraced the abyss with all their emptiness and lack.

People are invited to read out the responses to the question ‘What is missing?’ from the third bowl.

Story 2. In a tight, cramped, claustrophobic space, in a darkened corner above the city, the prophet rabbi Jesus appeared to his friends. That which was lost had been returned but now a paradox… the friends still felt an absence but it felt like a presence beyond all presences; richer more fuller presence. It was like the last time he was with them but there was a deeper reality to him, to them.

He had been emptied; given all of himself. He who had said that he was God. God had given all things to him and he freely gave it all away to show them how much he loved them. His generosity knew no bounds. He had given everything, even his very self. Now he was back amongst them and showed that He was, in some way, unknowable to them, mysteriously, he was God, eternal, abundant source of all things, of life itself.

“Now do you see?” he said “All that I have I give to you… and I have a lot. I want to be emptied, again and again of all I have so that you have. All that you’re missing I give to you but the real trick is to discover that life is found when you empty of ‘having’ and satisfy the other’s need.”

“God gave to me,” he said “I give to you, but I can’t stay with you in bodily form, it’s too limited. I will return to my home and send to you the key to the Divine store cupboard. He will come and grant you access to the gifts but do not hold onto them for they, like manna in the wilderness will rot if kept in your grasp. Give, give away, give until you have nothing left and your hand will be refilled.”

“This is the secret to community. Each giving until they have nothing but, of course, this dynamic generosity creates from nothing. This is how the universe was built; generous, abundant, emptying love; love that seeks to have nothing so the other will have everything. God the Father showed His love for me by giving me the whole cosmos and more besides he continues to give until there is nothing left to give, when space and time has run out and beyond that. I showed my love to him by giving all I could and I still give… And now I give to you and call you to live with us, participate.”

“You’re all interested in what makes good human community? Humans are made in the image of God and when you live as if that were true, your actions and lives sing of eternity. You’ve dreamt of a place, a way of living that feels like the home you’ve always desired? I have considered your niche needs, disjointed designs and contradictory commands of communal contentment and this is what I offer; an urban landscape sprawling out to scenes of symbiotic existence; spaces of intimacy seeming epic. Small spaces stretch out into space unimaginable.”

“In the centre of this city is a stream sourced from a singular washing space where you can willingly wash away the weeping water from your eyes; wash away all the lies which twist distort and chastise; wash away the pain of missed goodbyes, the long held hurt when a loved one dies, all that contributes to our cries, from the inexpressible silent sighs to the African skin crawling with flies, the countless millions caught in disguise to those imaginations that devise instruments of torture that lead to our demise.

This washing water has supplies for all generations to surmise, from the one who accepts to the one who denies, yes, all are asked to step in and be baptized.”

As the friends looked at the Great Designer’s two dimensional doodles depicting detailed designs for districts of dreams; they were transported from 2D to 3D and they stood at the heart of this great project, this divine concept of collaborated dreams of home. As they scanned the scene with their senses searing with celestial resplendence, they saw it was their terrestrial city with its burnt out building bordered up, barren, broken, brittle skeletons, shells of second rate, suppressed statements of habitations, empty, abandoned, bereft of life. This vacuous void is all they’d envisioned, their vital improvements to the divine construction.

“All these buildings won’t be obstructions.” the rabbi said as He pointed to the destruction. “All of you will be part of this production; we’ll need some more. Can you get introductions? It won’t work if we resort to abductions but paint a portrait of perpetual seduction; Lilting lullabies of love. Meandering melodies of mercy. Holistic harmonies of hope. This is how we will win people to our cause. Sing to them simply of the Son who was sent to your city to speak out against injustice, racist hostility and stubborn statuses. “Sacrifice self” He said. Die to all you think defines, distinguishes, differentiate and divides. Die to all that makes you think ‘me’. That’s not how you are to be, its ‘we’, you see, us constantly, lovingly, eternally relating looking out celebratorily at creation, the manifestation of Our imagination which speaks of salvation. Stand against temptation. Participate in incarnation. Join Our nation.”

They were still in that upper room but now it seemed foreign. The rabbi was gone and they were free. They felt… called, with all creation, to participate in a Divine dance, dwelling with Him, deliberately drawing and deliberating over the debilitated definitions of themselves.

This divine creativity is now innate and it is to participate in a state where every breath is to create because the truth is we, humans can do nothing, we are pathetic, we are fragile, fragmented, foolish and frail. If it was down to us failure would frame our every fumbled attempts at life. But God doesn’t limit His giving of good gifts generously gathering His grace getting offspring and giving, blessing them with boundless benefaction and the ability to beautify the broken, black globe we abide in.

Creativity is the choice to catch the vision of His passionate parade of perpetual pleasure as He paints pictures in the palette of the sky and proclaims praises powerfully in proud oaks. Problem solving, parenthood, pottery, plumbing, all is creative in Papa’s production.

Do we care too much on product and not on process? Capitalism capturing our capability in creation. Yes, creativity is innate, equally distributed, designated, dished out. If we decide to delegate in this divine dynamism we decide to die for it is participation with His soul saving Spirit that gives life. Creativity is cooperating with our curiosity in creation, creating collaborations in community, making mutual memories made in mirth and misery shared. Stories singing through souls, sewing us, sculpting us, shaping us, scripting us into the narrative of the non-conforming Nazarene whose never-ending life and love lulls us into lucid lovers and alighting a light in our hearts, little wisps of wonder wilting the winter inside. All of us part of the process to paint the playground, perform the eternal play and promote partnership in people un-praised but packed with potential.

A song of hope and community is shared.

Story 3. In a tight, cramped, claustrophobic space, in a darkened corner above the city, Simon, who they called ‘Peter’, one of the group was stood amongst outcasts. This foreign group had not been a part of the original group of sparrows in that first upper room. They had gathered from elsewhere but he saw in them that sparrow song. He stood amongst them and remembered the night he had sat with the prophet rabbi Jesus and he had showed them God, divine community, love unadulterated and emptying of gift. Peter stood and spoke, he modelled love as he had known it, pure, from the heart of God Himself. The group were sparrows in a hedge; just for a moment. They sang, they laughed, they shared, they lived the life of communal God right in front of him.

I have shared my stories. I share them till I am empty, bereft.

Keno Charis means ‘emptying of gift’. It is the mystery at the heart of the Trinity; God in community, Father, Son and Holy Spirit; each one giving to the other attempting to be empty of all they possess in order that the other has more but in some mysterious way this creates more. God, the source of all things trying pass on all of it is the secret to life. When we live and participate in this activity we are caught in the basis of life itself and we experience God. Trinity. The Communal heart of creation from the Creator.

Liturgy of the empty and healed

Person 1: I have my music,

I give it to you,

I give it till I’m empty.

Response: We thank you. We love you till you heal.

Person 2: I have my thoughts,

I give them to you,

I give them till I’m empty.

Response: We thank you. We love you till you heal.

Person 3: I have my words,

I give them to you,

I give them till I’m empty.

Response: We thank you. We love you till you heal.

Person 4: I have my voice,

I give it to you,

I give it till I’m empty.

Response: We thank you. We love you till you heal.

Person 5: I have my heart,

I give it to you,

I give it till I’m empty.

Response: We thank you. We love you till you heal.

Person 6: I have my identity,

I share it with you,

I share it till I’m empty.

Response: We thank you. We love you till you heal.

One member of the group leads the following to close,

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone:

Response: my hope comes from Him.

We come this night to the Father,
We come this night to the Son,
We come this night to the Holy Spirit powerful:

Response: We come this night to God.

The Sacred Three
to save
to shield
to surround
the hearth
the home
this night
and every night.

Keep Your people, Lord,
in the arms of Your embrace.

Response: Shelter them under Your wings.

Be their light in darkness.

Response: Be their hope in distress.

Be their calm in anxiety.

Response: Be strength in their weakness.

Be their comfort in pain.

Response: Be their song in the night.

In peace will we lie down, for it is You, O Lord,

Response: You alone who makes us to rest secure.

In The Rubble We Will Sing

20133118111695840_8This morning I woke to the news of the government drafting legislation for three person IVF treatment to allow parents to protect babies from defective mitochondria which leaves them ‘starved of energy, resulting in muscle weakness, blindness, heart failure and death in the most extreme cases’ (BBC News page) by having the DNA from a third party used in the creation of their child. This opens up a vast set of issues on the very nature of life, family, society, etc. After this item there followed the news that surgeons’ individual performance is to be publicised to enable to help patients make informed decisions. This too holds so many much much larger questions about our lack of trust, social contracts, etc. These items come on the back of the issue of gay marriage, banking reform, energy sources, etc.

The Western world is in turmoil. There is no denying that. Change is in the air and most, if not all, people are feeling unsettled, chaotic and scared. The world is always changing; look at Heraclitus (Greek philosopher of 5th century B.C.) who is famous for saying

You never step into the same river twice.

What is scary for me (trying as best as I can to take an overview) is how lost we all are. I use the word ‘lost’ deliberately and I use the word ‘we’ with equal seriousness.

We are lost because we have no direction or rather we have no shared direction when it comes to ethcial discussions. There is an ever-increasing number of options and subjective choice as to which direction we should take that no one view can be held as better or worse than another. This is the fruit of individualism and subjectivity. I have been saying it for so long I’m tired of hearing myself say it. We have got a culture where “What I think and feel is right because it’s what I think and feel.” This unquestioning subjectivity of reality leads to a break down of society. Descartes has a lot to answer for!

We are lost in an ethical abyss with no firm footing or basis by which to discern right from wrong. Our laws and government no longer know how to speak ‘truth’ because ‘truth’ is not shared or agreed upon. The legal system now just protects us individuals from hurting other individuals by our holy, sanctified individuval lives. And we are surprised by the rise in loneliness, depression, a deep seated experience of isolation from fellow human beings, relationships hard to find and sustain and the language we use is so fluid that any meaningful expression is lost and misunderstood. At the heart of this is the current discussion on marriage. This is the sole, most important issue which is unlocking all other issues.

I am seeing this ethical debate on the nature of marriage (both the contents and the way in which it was undertaken) as a piece of dynamite ready to explode the constructs already teetering on their foundations. I say this because it cuts to the core of our discomfort and uncertainties; identity, society, trust, relationships, love, truth, the place and reality of un-tangible concepts within our society, etc. Again (and I really mean AGAIN!) I am not putting a value on either view of the outcome of this particular debate. I do not want to add to that discussion. I am trying to see the underlying issues at work and discuss those.

All around us is wobbling. We are unsure that what we’ve built our lives on is a firm and secure as we first hoped. Then this piece of dynamite is placed along side the cracks already forming and it is blown.

It feels that, in search of freedom we have become enslaved to our own feelings, emotions. Beliefs are based on hunches and gut reactions rather than wisdom.

Wisdom. Where are you, Wisdom? We have built our replica of you and parade it about while you silently watch on from the wings. We make this pathetic imitation dance and move and are deceived into think that it lives but it is but a puppet representation of your life and being.

When will we learn that this individualism and self-seeking, self-constructed framework of society is a sham of the most dangerous and destructive kind?

We have no ethics because we no longer understand the most important fact that lies, unrecognised at the core of our existence: human beings are imperfect, unknowing, ignorant fools. Each and every one of us is skewed in our perception of reality. We are drunk, hazed over with our inner selfishness. Even me. I am guilty of that most hideous of crimes: self-delusion, pride even in my own self-disgust. I am trapped and imprisoned in my own ego. My ego lashes out defensively and subtly twists all I see and do into ‘right-ness’, justifications of thoughts, ideas, policies. My ego distorts, degrades and destroys reality for self-protection. That is why I use ‘we’! I stand in the dock and am guilty!

We. We are lost. Lost in this pathetic state of life. Once the explosion happens and all comes down, as it will and should what will we do?

Firstly, I suggest, acknowledge our weakness, our shortcomings, the ethical mess we are in. To admit the devastation around us. To pick up the pieces of rubble and weep over the brokenness. To silence all voices and to stand in the reverential place of pure and painful humility.

After this we must sing sombre songs of lament. In this place of seeing ourselves as the pathetic creatures we can become we must sing a song of sorrow from our hearts with the tears of truth streaming down our faces. Allow the melody of a minor key to stir us into deeper reality and begin to experience a healing. This healing cannot come from any human source for all those fountains are corrupted and diseased; what comes from them is the fruit of a poisoned tree. No. This healing is found by those who enter this place of reality with humility and fear, reverence and care. Its source is a fearful and un-nameable place which we all would rather forget and push to one side but its reality is sure. We have buried this source with our humanistic, concrete-like concepts of progress and intellect. It is been stopped by force by us. Silently and subtly we have continued to block it up with small incremental steps and we did it all in the name of ‘liberty’ and happiness. Now all our constructs are rubble, the plug has been freed and the pure waters can be drunk from again.

Finally, I want to shout, in the silence, after the songs of lament, confession, sorrow and disgust there is a space to, together, open our eyes. In the cracks of the devastation where the water of healing, life and hope trickles fresh, new things are growing. We recognise them but have lost their names. None of us will dare move in case we trample on the young buds sprouting. The purer ones of us, the ones well versed in lamentation and self-surrender, they will move first and welcome the new arrivals on our landscape. They will smile and will speak first, naming them afresh and reminding us of their beauty and truth. We will hear it; some recalling quicker than others and we will finally share the story of reality.

At the moment this is not and never can be possible in the way we are progressing now. We are blind to the truth and we are doomed together.

The Pope Is Dust Just Like You

popeap_2477349b

As the evening approached I began to get more and more excited. I haven’t been as expectant and excited about a service since the Midnight Communion a few months ago. Ash Wednesday had arrived!

This day, more so than most other feast day, gets to the core of my theology and spirituality. A preacher and minister has to work very hard to fudge the the central message of this celebration and act of worship.

Remember you are but dust and to dust you shall return. Turn from sin and be faithful to Christ.

Ash Wednesday marks the start of the season of Lent, a period of 40 days (plus Sundays) dedicated to repentance and re-dedication to discipleship. This season is known for the tradition of giving up/fasting from certain luxuries or habits that distract us from the work of discipleship and our journey to holiness. The restraining from luxuries, in the modern day, has become seen as some self-inflicted punishment and has betrayed the true reason for participating in such activities: to re-dedicate your life and attention towards Christ, to clear our mind of striving after short-term pleasures and receive the eternal pleasure of knowing God.

But this post is not about fasting and Lenten disciplines.

I approached Ash Wednesday this year with Pope Benedict’s resignation very much on my mind. I, like many others, have been struck by the timing and the manner in which the pope’s statement was made. Through this short and concise proclamation of intent, the pope communicated one thing: humility.

True humility is about naming the truth of one’s status. It is a fine virtue to public live out just before the celebration of Ash Wednesday because humility has its roots in humus (of the earth). The pope’s public declaration clearly spoke of his weakness, a self-awareness of his defects and mortality and limitedness in fulfilling the role to which God called him. In a world obsessed with promoting the strength and potential of humanity, this public resignation sings of our true nature: we are dust.

The pope’s conviction stands powerfully against the lie of this age which says humanity is the source of transformation in the world. We, as a race, need no one else to be great. If we could harness some metaphysical goodness and our inner strength we can achieve all we want and imagine. There is no god but us; we are the source of our own destiny. In this environment it is no surprise that the pope’s resignation and the humility expressed in his statement confuses and baffles our culture.

And so it is with Ash Wednesday! We stand prophetically against the humanism of our society, which, in many forms (Christian as well as non-Christian), grips our philosophy. We reject the temptation to stand on our own and name ourselves ‘good’ and beautiful, worthy of praise and adoration. We deny the powerful narrative that suggests that, if we work hard and gather together we can muster up ‘love’ (whatever that means!) and build a bright future for ourselves. This is a lie!

As Christians we must start with the humility that the pope lived out in making the public statement: we are limited, we are mortal, we are dust.

But the Christian story doesn’t end there, in the fatalistic nihilism that this truth can lead us to. The Christian message is that we are dust (and not God) but, by the grace of God alone, we are able to become living beings. We are not born as living beings, as things worthy of attention and praise. We are born as dust.

Prior to the pope’s announcement our attention was captured with the debate over equality. At the heart of this conversation was the bill of Human Rights which I spoke about in ‘The Hunch, the Compulsion and the Overwhelming Pain’. It begins with the statement: ‘All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights…’ On Ash Wednesday and through Lent we, as Christians, proclaim a different truth which sounds seductively similar but distinctive: ‘All human beings are born dust and equally in need of God.’

We are equal in the sense we are equally dust, limited, mortal, nothing but we can receive the grace of God if we turn to Him and receive His gift. We cannot deny the giver and receive the gift, allowing its power to transform and change to manifest itself in our lives.

The pope shouted above this view that we, human beings, are the source of significant and lasting transformation of the world, a different view. The Catholic Church doesn’t need Pope Benedict to be the Body of Christ. The Catholic Church, as it has done through out history, needs God, the sole source of transformation and change.

Ash Wednesday begins a narrative in the Church’s calendar that journey’s through Good Friday into Easter and won’t end until Pentecost. There, in the upper room with the first  disciples we become aware of our dust-ness but then the Spirit of God moves and causes our lifeless bodies to sing of life, not just existence, but eternal life. The Spirit of God, like a breeze, blows through that room and causes those heaps of dust dance, refracting the light that shines from Christ, the risen Lord.

There’s two failures we as Christians can make: inadvertently deny our dependence on God by promoting humanity as essentially ‘good’ and able to change the world, the other is to deny the power of God to use us, limited and mortal as we are, to show Himself as the sole source of eternal transformation. We so often speak too much of God’s love for us and fail to speak against the notion that we are worthy of that love. We can react to this by pushing too much the sin and darkness of humanity and fail to acknowledge that God has chosen to use our frail bodies.

The pope, in humility, made a bold statement against the humanism of popular culture and proclaimed our absolute dependence on God’s free, unmerited grace on us, unworthy as we are. He proclaims God is good and His love endures forever. We remain powerless until God’s power manifests itself through us. We must clear our lives of our own striving to hold power and receive afresh the gift of God’s presence that transforms us into something.

We are nothing made something by God’s everything.

We are dust caught in the wind of God’s Spirit, dancing in His Light.

A Bell Tolls

Just come back from a placement with the Northumbria Community. This time has been so affirming and essential to my personal journey I haven’t felt able to write any reflections here. I return so excited about my call and refreshed in passion for life.

I did write a poem whilst on placement as part of a short retreat led by the community and I thought I could at least share that. It is a form of ‘beat’ poetry. I was fortunate and privileged to be asked to participate in the Beat Eucharist at Greenbelt Festival this year and it involved writing several poetic, prayers/ sermons/’prophetic’ rants. I have begun to use this poetic style to express myself. The thing I find helpful is it is like a train of consciousness and allows my web style thinking to be expressed in a linear format.

A Bell Tolls

A bell tolls in the distant sky, rings out a call to consider, contemplate, to cry out to Christ our King, a call to climb out of the cave and into intercessory prayer, where, we care, despair, tear down the walls of separation, segregation and sanitation of our own pleas. Here we join with voices echoing out through time, space, history and in this wind swept landscape of solitude our sighs sing with the Psalmist who says: “From aching pit of my dark, dank, daunting depths a soul shattering scream, a piercing pitch capable of breaking the sinews of any hearer, echoes out to you the Spirit source of unspeakable prayers. Can you hear it, my God? Can you feel it, my Lord? Listen! Listen to this broken, brittle, barefoot disciple of Yours, this minuscule amount of matter, turn Your gaze on my meagre matter. If you, Faultless Father, should mark, record, consider, remember my shaken steps of sinful saintliness, steps so steeped in self-centredness, steps in sands swept by sea-sent cyclones, steps mis-placed, mis-directed, misshapen, missed the mark, who could stand? Who could stand? Who could bear the shame so solid, so dense it’s hard to stand?”1 Stories of saints standing on islands swept by sea salt sent from Scotland to speak of peace,
gentleness,
authenticity,
prayerful presence in pagan lads, piece by piece, person by person, preaching, proclaiming grace.
Grace.
God-sent, God-glorifying giants of faith humbly humming harmonies of hope home to hearts of helpless, hardened, harsh inhabitants. The balance of life; cell to connacle, alone to others, monastery to mission, Aidan praying: “Leave me alone with my Lord as much as may be, As the intemperate tide draws the tempestuous waters close into the shore, make me an island, set apart, solitary with You, God, holy. And then, with the turning of the tide, teach me to take your presence to the tired, time orientated tribes beyond. The world where world weary eyes weep, the world that wants me, calls me, rushes in on me till the timely tide treads again across the causeway and folds me back to you.”2 My poem intercepted, interspersed, interacting with Psalms and prayers, where their voice stops mine begin unbroken beats bubbling up behind bold but barren beliefs. Their story, spirituality seeping so softly into my spirit. “The Sacred Three our blessing be.”3 Songs sewing us together, stories stitching us into one sign of God’s faithfulness. “Encircle us, Lord.”4 Secure our steps on these trodden paths. “Come wind, Come rain, Come pelting storm, Whatever it may be. Be my shield, my refuge, Come walk beside me.”5 Songs of praises, shouts of Psalms, unstoppable strength sourced from the stream of solitude.
A bell tolls,
for friendship, food, fellowship in our Faithful, Faultless Father, bearing fruit of enfleshed favour of Him who send us out from refectory to road. Clear, distinct and yet the same. “I love to serve”6 you, my guest, Christ in the other, at home, hospitality, being available for you, my guest, Christ in the other and away, availability for you, my host, Christ in the other. “Don’t wash my feet!” “I must.”7 He says humbly inviting humility in my heart. Availability leading to Vulnerability.8 Open to other’s honesty, questions of motive, critique of meaning but all the time testing, refining, eyes of others, eyes of Him. Who could stand? Who could stand? “With Him there is assurance, steadfast, shame-reversing passion and with Him there’s the source of strength to stand!”9 Stand alone on distant islands, hopeful hermit. Stand with others reluctantly in refectory, faithful friend. Stand for others in King’s courts, ancient apostle. Stand in the shadow of Celtic saints, ride the rule, the regulus, the rhythm of prayer everywhere. Stand, sing, shout,
whisper words of wholeness to a world weary of religious rhetoric.
Recite the written stories, the spoken stories of ancient times afresh. A bell tolls in the distant sky, rings out a call to stop,
silence,
sit with saints,
stop.

1. a poetic re-hash of Psalm 130: 1-3
2. a poetic re-hash of the prayer of St. Aidan (why not read the Monasticism and Ascesticism posts)
3. from a song used as ‘grace’ at meal times in Northumbria Community.
4. from a song used by Northumbria Community.
5. from a song I sang whilst walking.
6. a phrase that had led to a conversation with one of the guests on retreat.
7. from John 13:8.
8. The two aspects of the Rule of Life for the Northumbria Community.
9 a poetic re-hash of Psalm 130:4.


In The Minster (part II)

They all gather in the locker room, their kits hung ready for the event. The banter flies freely and the regular rituals begin. Theirs positioning, roles and tactics are explained and they prepare themselves to go out and ‘perform’…
I am talking, of course, of the scenes before a service at York Minster!

From my privileged position as placement student (or ‘interloper’, ‘apprentice’, ‘dogs-body’ and any other term to use to describe my temporary role at the Minster) I have watched the daily routine of services with the usual processionary positioning, reading allocations and general choreography. All of which have a more than fleeting similarity to those of a football match, except there’s no ‘opposition’! I can’t seem to fully sign up with the need for such detail and the rubrics (the written guides for how worship may be done.) I understand the need for order and guidelines to stop worship and public expressions of faith becoming sloppy and incoherent, ‘un-Common Worship’ would divide rather than bring some gravitational unity. What is sometimes communicated, however, is that legislation is keeping some people in positions of glory and power who should be the symbol of humility.

Take the interesting issue of having specific seats marked for Canons in the Cathedral (at the heights overlooking the congregation.) What could be communicated is they get reserved seating because they are important. Immediately the Scripture

‘…do not sit down in a place of honour… but when you are invited, take the lowest place’ (Luke 14:8,10)

I understand and can appreciate the many facets of this issue; what are the places of honour and how are they distinguished? The seats are at the back and not the front, for example. I am aware of the need for those members of the community to have a sense of ‘home’ in the place of prayer; to not be distracted in prayer by the interest on who’s sat where. It may come down to the way a position is treated and understood. The seat marked ‘Dean’ is seen as, perhaps, the best seat because it is designated for the Dean, a perceived position of power. When the Dean sits there (most services because it’s his ‘church’) people see that as him sitting in the position of power but actually people are judging the role and not the position.

This is particularly interesting when you consider the ‘role’ of priest within a congregation.

As many regular readers will know I have a both a high view of priesthood (sacramentally) but a low view of individual ‘leadership’. My time here at York Minster has helped me to articulate the exact call on me to be a ‘priest’. I have had for a long time a need to reject the ‘leader’ title because I don’t see that call in the New Testament nor the benefits of designating one person to decide and direct a group of people. What is communicated in leadership manuals and guides is a leader who is coming up with ideas and influencing people’s decisions. The language is slippery and falls into dubious responses to collaboration. I want more clarity in our use of leadership language.

For me a good ‘leader’ is a faithful ‘follower’. Jesus has called me to be a disciple and a servant of people. A servant rarely speaks to their master in a dominating manner, demanding their views to be heard; they may be asked for opinion but they are not there to offer it, necessarily. How do we exercise wise counsel in a radical flat leadership style?

Take the practical example of the chapter here at York Minster. The chapter is the governing body of the cathedral and is made up of clergy, administrative staff and laity. It is the chapter who make the decisions on how the cathedral is run and what responses or activities to make and engage with. The Dean is the ‘leader’ of the chapter. What may be inferred by this is that he is in charge; he makes decisions and holds the power. The impression I get and what I’ve been told by members of the chapter is that he is one among equals. His seat in the Chapter House is deliberately not central; it is not different from any of the other seats there. He is not positioned in a favourable place to ensure he is the focus. He has no deciding vote on issues. When I described this impression to his wife she immediately said, “But the buck ends with him!”

This is essential to my understanding of priestly leadership (if such a term could be coined!) A priest is an ambassador for Christ; someone who, by their life and discipleship calls the people of God to be Christ-like as they are Christ-like. Christ was a servant who lead as a servant. This radical and baffling paradox is perfectly shown in His journey to the cross. Christ followed the will of those he served to death. John’s prologue speaks of His people not accepting Him and nailing Him to the cross. Christ took the consequences of the decisions made by His people even if He may not, individually, have wanted Himself. We’re discussing issues of willingness to be crucified and I want to emphasise Christ was willing to do it because He was committed to being lead by the actions of His people, whatever form that takes.

Let me de-theologise this and use a hypothetical situation in a hypothetical chapter with a hypothetical Dean. This Dean is sat in a chapter meeting and a decision needs to be made about disruptive members of the community in worship. The Dean, personally thinks they should remain and not be abandoned. The chapter are tired of trying to deal with the disruptive member and wants them to pass them onto a parish church. The Dean knows that if they reject this member of the congregation that the press, the community and the local people will be very upset and angry. The vote is taken and the chapter votes majoritively to sensitively send the member elsewhere.

The Dean, as figure-head and spokesperson of the chapter, communicates this decision to the public despite him, personally, believing there’s another way. He, as figurehead and spokesperson of the chapter, also commits himself to suffer the consequences of that chosen action; taking the brunt of the ‘backlash’ on himself. Is this not a sacrificial act of servanthood? Is this not part of priestly ministry? To be a priestly leader is to be nothing more than a spokesperson and figurehead of a community.

This is not to say that as a priestly leader you do not state an opinion nor hold a position on matters but to follow Christ before the need to lead in a traditional sense is to die to your own opinion to serve others. This is painful and uncomfortable but it is this model of leadership that is being called upon us as disciples of Christ. No wonder Paul warns those who have positions of ‘authority’. This is the distinguishing mark, for me, from secular leadership.

So back to the Minster and positions of power!

The Dean, the canons and, for a time, I will sit in the places designated to us for a whole range of reasons, some good and some bad. It does not matter where we sit, however, but rather the attitude and the manner in which we sit there. A  position of power must be held by someone but it can and should be held by someone who seeks always to take the consequences of actions made by that role before the need to exert influence from it.

This has wider implications on how I see myself as a future priest but I have taken up too much time already! Must go and reflect on Archbishop Rowan Williams address to Synod which I believe covers lots of these issues and more on how we speak of ‘church’. I’ll try and link it more with theatre as this blogs remit is straying too much from that passion!

Monasticism and Asceticism (part III)

The previous year I spent the night reading the book of Isaiah, from chapter 1 verse 1 to its climactic finish in chapter 66 verse 24. Afterwards I read the book of Acts, went to an early morning prayer meeting then onto a the Quiet Day on Holy Island to read Peter Brook on Artaud. This year myself and TMBI (Monastic Ball of Intensity) decided to do a night of Psalms. We would start the evening by doing Compline and read every Psalm through the night interspersing them with prayers of Cuthbert. Having been inspired by the Northumbria Community recently I used the Compline for the day (Tuesday) which happened to be a compline in dedicated to St Cuthbert…this was apt!

There were four, barefoot men who took it in turns to read all 150 Psalms; some softly, others shouted. What struck me as I spoke out prayers, laments, praises and sorrows was how quickly the tone changes in the Psalms, one moment you’re proclaiming the love and grace of God the other you’re stating that God has left you.

The other interesting thing I discovered was there were several times when I didn’t connect, personally, with the prayers of the Psalmist. I wasn’t sure where I was spiritually or emotionally as I went into this vigil but I found myself expressing things and thinking “I don’t really feel this right now.” However, the more I tried to inhabit the Psalm the more I felt the pain or joy or whatever emotion drove the particular psalm. Reading them and inhabiting the prayers gave me an opportunity to develop emotional memory. I have never feared for my life like the psalmists have but by placing myself in their position and delving into their emotional prayers I was able to empathize with them. As the night went on I began to really connect with the sentiments and human experiences painted throughout this collection of songs.

When we got to the final 4 chapters at 3.30am the four of us stood around the Bible by candlelight, watching the light begin to appear behind the stained glass window of depicting the crucified Christ.

Praise the LORD. Praise the LORD, O my soul.

As the praises built to their exultant crescendo, our voices raised to hoarse shouts as we all battled to shout louder than the others. The incense had filled the chapel, the candles’ smoke licked the air and we stood, four disciples praising God, cold, tired but joyful.

We left in the early morning light and walked home together discussing what we had experienced. Some common phrases came through for us. One was The Message’s translation of ‘his steadfast love endures forever.’

His love never quits!

Despite all the isolation, rejection we may feel from God ‘His love never quits.’ What remained for me, though, was how the prayers continually asked for mercy to be shown to us who have strayed or made mistakes and how quickly the psalmists pray that God shows no mercy to our enemies. I still find it difficult to pray that our enemies’ children’s skulls get smashed against the rock! As I arrived home I realized that the Psalms articulate every human emotion even vengeance, this doesn’t mean that God will answer those prayers but He will allow us to state them and for us to feel them because as soon as the psalmists pray for destruction on their enemies they soon realize that they themselves are also corrupt and deserve punishment and so the mercy shown to them is to be shown to all who are corrupt and,

Who is blameless before the LORD?

Sarah, not expecting me home, had left her key in our front door and I didn’t want to wake her up (I was also very tired and not thinking logically) so I decided to have a nap in our car. This was a bad mistake! I woke after a disturbed nap of an hour and rang our house phone (Sarah had turned her mobile off!) I was cold… really cold. I slipped into our bed shivering and with muscle spasms.

I woke again an hour later and got up to walk back into college to tidy up and prepare for the Quiet Day away.

When we got to Holy Island we were led through The Northumbria Community’s Morning Prayer and were re-introduced to Cuthbert and Aidan. I had spent the night with the memory of St Cuthbert but really felt called to walk this day with Aidan.

St. Aidan was called to Nortumbria by King Oswald after a failed mission trip by another missionary. Aidan became a popular and much loved Bishop because he focussed on relationship and meeting people where they were. Aidan was more of a missionary than a hermit but lived a life of balance; using his times alone to fuel his times with others. His life and prayers have been, in recent weeks, sources of great encouragement and inspiration.

I sat for some time on Cuthbert’s Island, the screams of the seals absent, staring at the mainland. I was struck, again, by the gulf of sea separating me from the millions of people living their life in England. I felt torn. Spiritually do I want to sit here, isolated and alone praying and ensuring my own house is sorted before heading out? Or do I cross the gulf and live amongst people? Aidan’s prayer (see Monasticism and Asceticism (appendix i) post) helped me to reflect on this. and again the psalms came to mind. I am a worm, nothing, but God’s steadfast love endures forever. There are times when people do my head in and I want everyone to leave me alone, stop demanding so much from me and give me space to be but as I pray for ‘justice’ and punishment to be brought upon them I remember that His love never quits!

Monasticism and Asceticism (part II)

As I walked towards the place of wailing seals and separation I remembered that the tide was in. Do I turn back because the spiritual experience I had been waiting for for five days was not accessible or do I go and see what happens distanced from the detachment?

I plodded on round the houses to the back of the church and out towards Cuthbert’s Island. I stood on the coast, the North Sea filling the gulf between me and the ‘holy place’. I was last here in June (see Monasticism and Asceticism post) and as I stood, my feet on a shifting stone shore, I thought about the time that had past.

There, almost a year ago, I had a moment with God that punched me in the stomach. Now as I finish my second year at college I am well accustomed to that feeling. Over the year, almost incessantly, I have gone from one beating to the next. The story of Jacob wrestling with God has become more and more ingrained in my spirituality; the loving, merciful aggression of God always holding back from using His full force which would leave me reeling into an abyss of non-existence and yet interlocked in an embrace.

To be honest I’m knackered! The white flag is waving and yet He stares as I catch my breath, smiling at me.

“Finished?”

“Let me catch my breath, Papa.”

“We don’t have to…”

But as I signal the end, admit defeat, a new energy arrives. I can do another round. Why? Because I feel myself getting stronger, resilient, more able. This round will be mine! As I engage again I remember that with each round He up’s the stake and reveals His ever increasing ability to overthrow me.

As I think of the endless tussling between me and my Maker I smile. I think of St Cuthbert sat, alone on this island in front of me. The tide ebbing and flowing, at times allowing people to cross and speak with him and him needing a more deserted sanctuary to be alone with God and their wrestling matches.

I continue to reflect on whether I am an introvert or extrovert. The restlessness and banality I turn to after spending too much time in conversation with people; to the deepest battering I receive when I spend too much time on my own. When I went through a Myers Briggs’ evaluation it told me I was right in the middle needing both solitude and companionship.

My place was truly on that island. At times the tide high forcing me to be alone to face my sinfulness and my merciful King, at others the tide allowing a causeway to community, hospitality and friendship. This leads me back to my reflections on the Northumbria Community who I visited on the same day as my last visit to Holy Island.

I have organised with Pete Askew to go on placement with the Northumbria Community in September. Sarah and I had gone a talked with Pete the day before and I was struck by how much their approach to spirituality and living a Christian life fitted with my own discoveries over this year.

This is the Rule we embrace. This is the Rule we will keep: we say YES to AVAILABILITY; we say YES to VULNERABILITY.
We are called to be AVAILABLE to God and to others:
Firstly to be available to God in the cell of our own heart when we can be turned towards Him, and seek His face;
then to be available to others in a call to exercise hospitality, recognising that in welcoming others we honour and welcome the Christ Himself;
then to be available to others through participation in His care and concern for them, by praying and interceding for their situations in the power of the Holy Spirit;
then to be available for participation in mission of various kinds according to the calling and initiatives of the Spirit.
We are called to intentional, deliberate VULNERABILITY:
We embrace the vulnerability of being teachable expressed in:
a discipline of prayer;
in exposure to Scripture;
a willingness to be accountable to others in ordering our ways and our heart in order to effect change.
We embrace the responsibility of taking the heretical imperative:
by speaking out when necessary or asking awkward questions that will often upset the status quo;
by making relationships the priority, and not reputation.
We embrace the challenge to live as church without walls, living openly amongst unbelievers and other believers in a way that the life of God in ours can be seen, challenged or questioned. This will involve us building friendships outside our Christian ghettos or club-mentality, not with ulterior evangelistic motives, but because we genuinely care.

As I walked away from Cuthbert’s Island and into the town I thought about God’s call on my life. Who am I? What’s God forming me into? Is it God who is forming me or my own self-delusions? I am close to God or far from Him? Is this wrestling one of discipline or formation? But above all of these the question arose again, as I looked at the picture of the island cut off from the shore, Am I missing the tides that will unite me with a community and cut me off for contemplation?

This year has been a year of ‘right thinking at the wrong time’. I’ll catch a glimpse of God and rush to tell people but it’s too early because as I step onto the shore of others and the tide does its thing I find myself trapped and needing to go and be alone. Or I’m on the island too long and friends and family get worried and concerned by my isolation.

Is the monastic life one of complete isolation from the world? Where is the mission? The spreading the good news?

The ebb and flow of ‘the mixed life’ of the contemplative and active, of monastery and mission, withdrawal and engagement, solitude and Community, together makes the Northumbria Community ethos.

Theatre Church (part XI)

I’m sat in Sanctuary 21 after another introductory meeting for my placement. Two people came tonight but instead of being disappointed I am overjoyed. Why?
I have come to realise that this small ‘drip-drip’ approach to the start of this group is more in keeping with the ‘organic’ nature I felt was needed. The big flashy, explosion onto the scene was never going to work. As I approached tonight I was struck by how Jesus started his ministry; by gathering one or two and focussing on getting to know them and building them up and the rest followed suit. I was particularly drawn to John’s account where the first two went and invited others to come.

I’ve been thinking about the way in which people begin to belong. I’ve returned to my months of deep listening that I’ve done since a year ago. It’s important for me to note the changing understanding of what this group may look like. My vision is not perfect and to look back over the common themes and points of interest is important to see clearly what is developing. Throughout my journal I have written a need to model community, natural, raw and organic. One of my notes has the quote from ‘Organic Community’,

We need to bear in mind that the most accurate word to describe the process of forcing intimate connection is rape.

This may sound harsh and ‘over the top’ but to force people to be community is never pastoral and is not godly. This connects with one of the things I noticed about the DST. I want to clarify, before I note the things that I have become important in the last week, what I really think and feel about DST as an organisation with the people involved. I love the DST. I love the work they’re producing. It is full of talented, passionate and intelligent people who are very successful, both here in Durham and across the country. I want to lift them up as a great example of student theatre and the potential is really exciting. What follows are three things that I felt was lacking in the DST and ‘gaps in the market’ where I feel the new group developing here at Sanctuary 21 will fill.

The first thing I noticed and have re-read in my journal, marking my deep listening, is a sense of how many auditions there are each week.
Most of the people I have come to know, and admire, will go from audition to audition, some successful and some not. This cannot be healthy for a person’s sense of self. I have seen this in professional theatre as well. An individual will just travel round and put themselves on the line so often that sooner or later they will forget who ‘themself’ is. As a defense mechanism an actor will quickly begin to perform and say what they think a director wants to hear or see. I experienced many people come to auditions for my theatre company and they will be performing the whole time. I wanted to know who people were, what they were about but all I got was a walking CV with what they have done or what they can do (juggling, acrobatics, accents,etc.). Auditions force artists to say and do things that may not fully describe what they are about and soon they will lose sight of what they have to truly offer.

I must remember that auditions must never play a part in this group. I want to truly discover what each individual has to offer and to honour their unique creative voice. I want to encourage everyone to know they are a part of the group not because of their aptitude to perform but because they are uniquely made. Any conversation where I am welcoming someone into the group must be clearly a welcome to the community rather than a test/interview/audition. I have begun to tell the people who are now becoming this group to voice this in any conversation; “We don’t audition, you are welcome if you want to join.”

The second thing I have noticed in my journal is my interest in the speed at which shows are produced. The usual rehearsal period is three weeks, at times its two. This has its benefits; it means people get lots of experience of a wide range of plays and meeting lots of people. I will not deny that it does get people mixing and it means people get a packed CV for future careers. Again I see an unhealthy aspect to this approach. If you were an actor and you were digging into your emotional memory to perform a character and then the show just finished and you moved straight onto the next thing without giving that emotional journey closure and you repeated this again and again then what does this create in you. There’s a pastoral issue here of managing your emotions. Relationships are never given enough time to grow deep and so, although your meeting lots of people, you’re not investing fully into them as you know you’ll be finishing the show in two or three weeks. Due to funding cuts the professional theatre has adapted this model of work where an individual actor may move from one company to another without developing long term relationships.

This has been a big drive to the creation of this group. At this time we have no need for funding and so we can be extravagant and explore what happens when a real ‘company’ is created and those relationships are as much a part of the creative process as the individual. The group, therefore, must be committed long-term with each other. Any ‘product’ does not mark the end of the relationship but a shared experience from which we can grow together.

The final thing that I have been reminded of this week is what I’ve witnessed in terms leadership. In individual companies there’s a sense of hierarchical power play. There is a producer and a director who drive the rehearsals and the actors who follow that vision. Due to the shortness of the rehearsal period an actor just turns up and does what the director wants and the choice of story/script is down to the director. Obviously an actor will choose if they want to be a part of that play but, from my observations, most people don’t actually care about the play they just want to do anything. This puts a lot of pressure on directors and also builds for them a pedestal on which some love and others hate. Directors and producers become the ‘gods’ of this community. People talk to them because they have something to offer (a part) and this makes it a lonely existence. I’m not saying that it’s this extreme but I’m painting a picture.

This image mirrors what is happening in churches and something that I don’t want to model… but that’s another issue!

This group must have, in its DNA, a flat leadership or rotational leadership. The group is the responsibility of each member not just me who suggested its inception. The existence is based around each giving themselves and steering it. This allows the potential for sustainability and flexibility in future.

I want to finish by stating one final thing. I’m still fairly open to see where God will fit into this. I know He will be present but I don’t want to cut out His role, I’d prefer He just took His place. Does this require all of them to be Christian? No. Would God exist even if all His creation denied Him? That’s a big question to leave you with!

London Calling (part V)

Two weeks into my placement and I’ve had very little time for personal reflection but the time I have had has, looking back, a very similar thread: ‘home’. I have tried, as much as possible, since starting this blog, to keep my personal life and personal spiritual journey separate from my ministerial reflections. At times this is very difficult but at this time the two reflections have collided and so I’ll be sharing some personal feelings and how it relates to the theatre community and the call of the Church.

Growing up I was always a ‘nester’. When going on holiday I liked to take all my clothes out of the suitcase and put them in the drawers and cupboards. I’d take out the book I was reading at the time and put it on my bedside table and I’d try and take with me as much of ‘home’ as possible. I didn’t cope well being away from home for long periods of time. Being an introvert I treasured my cave to retreat to, the place where I could be myself and say and think all the things I wanted to.

As I grew up this became less important and I adapted to be more relaxed about home and, as a teenager, it wasn’t cool to be so attached to home. While my brother, sister and friends dreamt of leaving home, I was there forcing myself to want to leave the familiar. In the end I did leave home and set out on my own and it was painful as I tried to make completely new things, familiar and to find a place where I was given permission to be myself. I put on personas that allowed me to be accepted and lived a life that meant I survived in the outside world.

After a period of time I was alone, confused and desperately ‘homesick’. ‘Home’ had become not a stationary place but an ideal a state of mind. It was now a memory of that feeling where I knew who I was what I thought and felt and the knowledge that, in the end, I was safe and… complete? Yes complete. In Hebrew thought there’s the understanding of ‘shalom’ which is not just peace but it’s wholeness, rest in completeness. Home was ‘shalom’.

In my desperation I returned to the house I grew up in, to the town of my youth in search of ‘home’ but it wasn’t ‘home’ anymore, life had moved on and I was left, homeless.

When I discovered God, in Riding Lights Summer Theatre School, I found a home; a place in the immaterial. At the same time I found relationships that were ‘home’, where I could kick off my immaterial shoes and relax in safety.

‘Home’, this ‘shalom’, these relationships where I can take off the masks and pretense and be real and honest are very important to me and, I think, to all human beings. As I spend time, separated from my wife, away from the familiar smells and routines of my house, parted from the community that has begun to sustain me in Durham, I find no rest; I’m exhausted but I can’t sleep.

I walked around Earls Court on Saturday and was reminded of my initial feelings about this part of London; there’s no sense of ‘home’. This community, along with large parts of the capital, is made up of people for whom other places are home, be it another country or another part of this one, or where they have yet to find a ‘home’. The word used to describe the people living in this area was ‘transient’. You look at the buildings and they are not cared for they are sleeping pods for people working or spend long times away. The scripture that came to mind as I looked at the people and the buildings and their relationship with each other was.

‘My soul find rest in God alone.’ (Ps 62:1)

In most of my conversations with vicars, members of communities and friends what they want in a church is ‘home’. This is particularly important for members of the theatre community (see ‘Theatre Church (part VII)‘ post). As the church here in Earls Court steps out in mission, to some extent, this creation of ‘home’ is something that has been sidelined slightly.

I visited ‘grace’ on Saturday night. ‘grace’ is a community in Ealing who are striving to be a real, honest community. Jonny Baker, whose blog can be found in my blogreel, has been a part of the team at ;grace’ for some time and his reflections on it would be worth reading. On Saturday night I stepped into a foreign space with strangers all around me and I was amazed how much of a welcome I felt just being in the space. There was no specific ‘welcome team’, there was no big pointing at the newcomer and asking everyone to make them feel welcome it was an acceptance of a fellow traveler allowing me to be me in the space for the time I am there and them engaging in conversation as much as I wanted to engage.

The whole experience of ‘grace’ reminded me of needing sanctuary, rest, ‘home’. For me this is the central, most important part of a community, acceptance of the individual and allowing them to be real with themselves, with each other and with God. Unwrap your bandages and and show your wounds. It is interesting that it is Jesus’ wounds that make him recognizable to his disciples.

Part of the evening at ‘grace’ was spent traveling around three stations; cave, refectory and road. The idea, admitted by Jonny, was stolen from Ian Adams’ book named after these three principles. In the book it looks at the monastic tradition of needing a cave, a refectory and a road. The cave is a place of sanctuary, where you rest, where you are alone and refreshed. The refectory is a place where you can share stories with others and the road is a place of work, of journeying and of striving towards a goal with others.

I made two commitments on Saturday; one was to commit to working from a place of ‘home, rest, ‘shalom’. I have found being away in London, separated from my wife, without the familiar smells and routines of my house, distanced from the community in Durham which have sustained me, difficult because these are things that make ‘home’. ‘Home’ is being in relationship, in a place, where I am known and loved. I’m exhausted because I have no home here. The second commitment was a commitment to the new community that will be forming in Durham. I committed to creating a ‘home’ with and for them. A place which can be both a cave for some and a refectory for others so all can face the road together. I love the fact that we will be meeting in a place called ‘Sanctuary 21’. I hope and pray that we will remain a place of sanctuary and a ‘home’.

London Calling (part IV)


Starting my second week in Earls Court, I was full of expectation and excitement about what’s going on with this community and what I’m learning and discovering about myself and ministry. To start with, I’m being continually challenged and reminded of how big God is and how easily we limit Him to the work we’re involved in but so often this week I’ve been made aware of what God is doing all over London in different people’s lives and sometimes those things have nothing to do with the intentional and active work of the Church. God is already out working in people’s lives; all we have to do is go and get involved and help people to see Jesus as Lord!

Anyway… enough of that.

One of the main activities I’m involved in is an ‘Art Cafe’ which was set up by a passionate vicar in training (V.I.T.) already serving in Earls Court. His original idea behind it was making the church a space where Christians could invite their friends to engage in art and ask questions about faith. This was something I was very interested in but I saw a greater opportunity. This would be a great chance to reach out to artists who may not necessarily be invited or interested in a general event like this. V.I.T. and I have been creating a space where Christian artists (a painter, an urban photographer, an singer/songwriter and the homeless community) can display their work and present it as worship so people can see and, hopefully, find God in it.

The discussion we’ve been having throughout this week has been around who do we aim this event at? Do we need to have a specific audience in mind when it comes to events like this? If we specifically invite artists we need to aim to give them top quality art and discussions on the issues surrounding spirituality and art.

V.I.T.’s original desired audience was anyone who wants to come, interested in art or not. This broad target audience is great and all should be invited because God wants all to know Him and meet Him but does this mean we need to keep the content vague? Does this mean we should not explore deep issues and complex thoughts and ideas in order to not alienate people? If we are to have deep, meaningful and profound conversations with those who are deeply involved in the arts scene then we need to cause them to ask questions and to engage with the topic afresh on a deeper level. It’s like inviting a renowned scientist to come and engage in a conversation about physics and sitting them in a room with a small child and explaining why an apple falls to the ground with picture books. V.I.T. and I deeply want to engage in conversation, open and honest dialogue, with artists to explore the spiritual side of art with them in genuine and truthful way but we don’t want to go too deep that we lose the other side of the audience. Do we put aside the artist focussed event for another time and do it to the best of our ability or do we try and mix the two audiences?

This connects, also, with my experience in this multi-national area. As an English speaking (attempting to be) academic communicating to 25 different nationalities all of whom vary from non Christian visitors to lifelong disciples, I’m finding it difficult to find the right level at which to pitch a sermon/talk on discipleship. How do you engage in a discussion with people on several different levels at once without short changing one group and losing another?

In both these instances it is matter of who is it for? If the Art Cafe was solely aimed at ‘artists’ then the art part of the content can be deep and presume knowledge in this area and we could offer something genuinely challenging and thought provoking for them. The Art Cafe is not aimed solely at ‘artists’ and therefore we cannot speak as in depth about art or faith due to the non Christian visitors. The video prepared for the event (see ‘London Calling (A Little Interruption)’ post) presumes a certain knowledge of art and understanding of the language used but it was commented on that the audience will be various nationalities, stages of faith and involvement in the arts world. This means that something that, hopefully, will inspire conversation amongst some people needs to be diluted to engage more people. Would it then lose some of its impact?

But I want to engage with all people not just artists and I want to inspire conversation in all people. The vicar, quite rightly, suggests,

I think in an evangelistic setting it is entirely appropriate to preach as if no-one there knows anything (Nicky Gumbel’s old maxim – never underestimate intelligence, or overestimate knowledge) and you are explaining faith to a total non-Christian (albeit a seeker). Even if there are only two non-Christians there out of an audience of 100. Cos the aim is outreach.

The same is true of the art content for artists. It is right in this context to not overestimate knowledge of the art world or underestimate the intelligence of the public.

So it comes down to a question; should we presume no knowledge of the art world? If we do are we shying away from a great opportunity to discuss faith with artists in a challenging way?

Through these questions we’ve arrived at some final decisions for this event; The video will be there for those who want to engage on a deep level along with some of my introductory thoughts. The introductory thoughts will try and presume intelligence but not knowledge of arts. The theatre piece, which I will perform, has been tested in front of a ‘non arty’ and ‘arty’ crowd and both have loved it. The artist and the musician, along with the brief talk by the vicar will be accessible to all and hopefully will further feed those who want to discuss further the topics raised.

The event is going to be great and there’s going to be plenty of opportunity to ask questions and there’ll be a group of people ready to engage with the any issue on any level. The Art Cafe will be open from 3pm to 9pm on Thursday 16th and Friday 17th September in St Luke’s Church, Redcliffe Gardens, and there will be a short presentation by an artist, musician and me discussing the relationship between art, faith and our work. The presentation will start at 7pm. Come along on the day for coffee, tea and/or cake, or the evening for the presentation and live music. If you are aware of anyone who’s interested in art and faith/spirituality why not invite them too!