Tag Archives: honesty

Reconciliation Is Not Sitting On The Fence

I rarely write a script for my sermons but due to the contentious issues raised during this one I felt I needed to. Many people have asked to see a copy and so I publish it here in full.

The reading for the day was Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
(It also is inspired by the epistle as well: Romans 8:12-25)

This week has seen several momentous debates take place. It started with the Church of England’s General Synod discussing the issue of allowing women to become bishops and finished with the House of Lord’s debating the controversial ‘Assisted Dying Bill’. It has been a week of heated opinions and difficult conflict. To add to these there’s also been renewed conversation around the Israel/Palestine conflict to manoeuvre. All in all it could have left many of us feeling overwhelmed and confused.

Which side do I stand on?

How do I know what is right and wrong?

Who can I trust?

I wouldn’t blame anyone for just keeping your head down and not engaging because it’s tiring, isn’t it?

Print When I was at school we often staged debates on moral and ethical issues. These debates were put on to help us to develop our persuasive writing technique and for this reason I was always quite good. You see, to succeed in a debate you must defeat your opponent’s argument and not, necessarily, with facts. Most of the time they were won by playing with language. If you can bring into question the use of a word you can subtle destabilise any argument.

The truth is language is complicated and the english language is so steeped in history that it is one of the hardest to fully grasp and therefore easiest to manipulate. The meaning of words have been adapted so many times through the centuries that the original meaning doesn’t usually match its common usage. Debates end up being caught in details over language (or semantics). The game in debates is to attack weakness of understanding of words until you judge the right time to play the ‘simplify’ card. A debater will suddenly grab the confused and tired mood of the crowd and state the thought now running through most listeners heads:

“We can spend all day discussing semantics but at the end of the day this is all about people and all people need is…compassion. Compassion is not allowing suffering, therefore, assisted dying is the right thing to do”

No one will have the energy to argue the definition of compassion and it sounds plausible enough and, let’s be honest, we don’t have time to debate this anymore… To no one’s surprise, therefore, these staged debates always ended in a stalemate.

To be honest many of us don’t care as much about somethings as other people and so debates are often won by the most energetic arguers. To persuade others is more of a marathon of campaigning, slowly wearing opponents out. As victims of these campaigns it’s easy to tire and to give in rather than try and stand and engage.

Take the issue over Israel and Palestine for a moment:

israel-palestine-gaza-390x285 Who has the right to the land of Gaza and the West Bank? We could start by going into all the history and legalities over this issue. The use of words such as ownership can then be brought into question. Historical facts could then be muddied by interpretation of events and phrasings and then there’s the insurmountable obstacle of personal stories and the tangled web of historical violence from both sides.

Who started it? What were the real motives behind each attack? Who are the secret players behind the scenes, the hidden investors? We could easily end up just throwing your hands in the air and saying,

“I don’t know.”

It’s in this tired, apathetic position that you are a prime target for lobbyists with an agenda to come alongside you and gently and nicely persuade you to just subtly ‘understand’ their point of view. They say,

“I know, it’s complicated, right. All you need to know is… Israel are seeking complete control of their ‘Promised Land’”

“You just need to realise that… there was never a state of Palestine in the first place.”

The work of reconciliation, of bringing people into true understanding and real peace, is hard. In fact, I’d go as far as to say, it is humanly impossible.

In those school room debates the problem was that the point of the exercise was not to discover the truth but to win an argument at any cost. Success was judged not by the right outcome being found but a majority of people agreeing with you at the end. You didn’t have to be right; you just needed to be popular. I was always good at standing up, observing the room, and re-phrasing the emotions; twisting them and manoeuvring them to sound very similar to my motion and, therefore, encourage them to feel like I was speaking for them; I was a born politician. This, I soon realised, was a very useful tool in life. I could get what I wanted!

I discovered, however, that getting what I want isn’t always the best thing. I could manipulate anything except the truth. I didn’t know what was good for me, I still don’t. I don’t always know what is right. I had intelligence but not wisdom. The poverty of wisdom was always my (and I suspect all of our) undoing and I soon realised that building my life on intelligent manipulation of facts was like building a house on sand and it soon began to crumble and harm me. I had made decisions based on what I wanted. I had made my bed and now I slept in it. It was then, I was convicted of my lack of wisdom and found my need for God, the source of real wisdom.

The problem is I still have to wrestle with how much I argue about anything, particularly issues of faith, knowing that I have the ability and the sinful desire to ‘win’ at any cost. I am acutely aware of my own personal need for wisdom over and above intelligence and rhetoric.

Whilst on holiday I was enticed into a debate with a fellow traveller on the coach tour. The issues being debated were wide and various; the existence of God, matters of ethics, political discourse. It was tiring. I landed a few fine tuned points which won ground but ultimately it was a thoroughly unsatisfying encounter. Why? Because in the end both parties, him and me, were unwilling to listen. We didn’t seek wisdom, we sought success.

295_Conflict_4 Winning arguments is easy if you can just wear down your opponent and the easiest way to do that is keep moving the goal posts; re-define the terms of the argument until it gets too complicated and they get confused and worn out. You don’t need truth to do this; all you need is stamina and intelligence.

It is easy to look at the world with all the complicated issues brought out by relationships and be overwhelmed and confused. The instinctive position at this point is to succumb to the ‘live and let live’ view or the “there is no ‘right’ answer”. This is problematic when it comes to creating laws, governance and guidance as to how we live together. This approach only ends with lots of people doing what they like trying not to hurt others which ultimately won’t happen as we need to interact with each other; our personal desires will always conflict with someone else’s. The only way we can all be happy and not upset others is by not living together.

So how then do we live together?

Wisdom.

And how do we gain wisdom?

I want to suggest it’s ‘time’ and despite what many in our culture and society believe, we know we have time. God is a god of eternity. He is timeless, far above our concept of it. He holds all things in his everlasting existence. We proclaim that His kingdom will have no end. This means we have time; time to stop, time to listen, time to pray and invite God to work, time to wait for God to emerge and reveal Himself the source of wisdom.

Impatience and urgency are dangerous when making decisions. Yes, there’s a need for pragmatic decisiveness but should only be done in God’s timing.

Here’s where the General Synod has succeeded this week and where the House of Lord’s failed.

Members of the Church of England's Synod join in morning prayers In November 2012 General Synod’s motion to vote female bishops failed, only just but enough. What was clear back then was that the debate had been established on the principle that there was an ‘us’ vs. ‘them’. The aim was not to discover wisdom but to ‘win’ at any cost. Both parties on the extremes didn’t seem to care how they would win just as long as they did. This week, however, the tone of the debate was not on winning points and persuasion but a genuine, heartfelt desire to seek wisdom and to trust one another. The debate stopped being about party politics but more about seeking genuine peace and wisdom only found in the Spirit of God.

At Friargate Theatre back in May there was an evening entitled ‘The Stones Cry Out’ where two men from the Holy Land came and shared their stories. One was a Palestinian the other Israeli. Both men had lost daughters in the conflict and now they were travelling around together witnessing to the power of their relationship across the great divide.

The Palestinian father suggested the true route to peace is not to be pro-Israel or pro-Palestine but to be pro-peace. In order for real reconciliation and peace one must hold both parties in critical tension. To commit to both in equality and to be pro both and, at the same time, pro neither. This is not sitting on the fence! The problem with sitting on the fence is that the fence still exists. Real reconciliation is destroying the fence and stretching across to both sides.

berlin19-1 To dismantle such a fence of division takes time, building trust and relationship something sadly lacking in our politics in this country. My very public critique of the Same Sex Marriage Bill was not based on some personal, moral judgement on homosexuality but on the way a decision was being sought. It was rushed. The lobbyists pressured opponents with the supposed lack of time and bullied people into making a response; to choose a side of the fence. Rather than taking the fences down they were happy to keep them there. People were forced off the fence onto one side or the other and it was all done by the manipulation of language. The same is being done with The Assisted Dying Bill.

When Lord Falconer was asked to give people time to engage and for a thorough exploration and facilitated discussion to take place he said there was no time. We need to make the decision now.

Why? Because he is afraid. He is afraid to wait. He is afraid of the suffering. He is afraid of what he might find when he stops and listens to the secrets of his heart. I sympathise with those who can see no hope in the future and want to take control of the confusion that surrounds them but the correct Christian response is to witness to our trust in the miraculous hope of God to bring peace and comfort. When all you have to look forward to is meaningless abyss then suicide may well feel like the best option; why wait?

We wait because, through the lens of Christ’s gospel we have lots to wait for.

Our gospel reading today calls us to deliberately and intentionally challenge our instinctive desire to act decisively ‘now’ to separate and divide; to judge ‘now’. God has time and so do we. God’s Kingdom will outlive every other lobbying group, political ideology and revolution. We are to look to Him for our wisdom not some human campaigner. This will mean we must exist in the painful complications of difference but it is in this field we call life that we grow. We live in peace when we accept God’s rhythm, God’s timing. Seeking relationships over and above position and power.

Peace is only achievable when we stop and let God work. To wait, often uncomfortably, in hope. This will often feel as if nothing will ever change, how it is is how it always will be but God waits for us to invite Him in and we should wait for Him to work. So let’s pray in God’s eternity for His hope and wait for His peace to rule.

Chapter 27: the abbot’s care of the excommunicated

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The abbot must show great concern for the wayward brother

How do we deal with failure?

I am always amazed when a football team doesn’t do very well and the Manager is called to resign or step down. There was a period a few years ago when it seemed like the moment a team lost a game they’d change their Manager! The same is true in politics. Sometimes these removals from roles is for the best but other times it is a knee jerk reaction to the experience of ‘failure’.

Failure is not allowed in our culture. It is a sign of weakness and our survival depends on us “winning” (as Charlie Sheen put it). The problem is, of course, we’re not perfect… not even me (particularly not me!) Sooner or later we’re going to make a mistake and if we live in a climate of fear about failure it becomes increasingly stressful the more you have success because the more you succeed the higher the stakes are and the further you have to fall.

I want to reflect on a very local issue for me for a moment.

The Leader of the City of York Council, Cllr. James Alexander, has been in post since 2011 and has been on a mission to deal with long standing issues in the city. One of these long standing issues is congestion. Being a small city with historic walls surrounding the central area and a large amount of pedestrian precincts for tourists and shopping, our roads in York get clogged very quickly. There are some who could use public transport more (or cycle) allowing many necessary drivers to get where they need to go in the city. The problem is, no one is willing to admit that they don’t need to drive.

To attempt to do something about it, James Alexander, after discussion, instigated a trial to close Lendal Bridge, a prominent transport passageway across the River Ouse. It was always going to be controversial and it was always going to be complicated to communicate the change but the Council faced an onslaught of criticism. There were some (like myself) who had no strong views either way but were willing to see the trial through and ride the wave of discomfort experienced in any sharp change. The criticism did not cease and many people were penalised with the fine used to police and enforce the restriction.

Cynics went out in force to accuse the council, and James Alexander personally, of attempting to increase their pay packets by gathering the money accumulated by the fines. Everyone had a personal story of why they needed to drive through the zone at a given time and the fine was a sign that the council were heartless and un-compassionate.

At the end of the trial, the cynics and opposers had managed to sustain their complaint and continued to demand a retraction of the restriction. The council decided to extend it further and promised to revisit the issue. There was strong opposition on the grounds that the way the council had enforced the restriction was unlawful and the council reversed their decision, opening the bridge for traffic.

James Alexander had failed! The only just action was for him to leave office with his head down and admit that everything he thinks and does is wrong. His opponents could then, in the glory of being right step in and take on the role of power.

I have to admit a personal interest in this. I respect James Alexander. I don’t agree with all his choices. I could name some of his failings and mistakes but I have always felt that he has deep desire to serve the people of York and to keep promises he made in an election. I also happen to like an opponent of his, the previous head of the council, Lib Dem councillor Andrew Waller. Andrew and I sit in many meetings together and continue to work together. So James’ failure is Andrew’s success.

After the re-opening of the bridge the council agreed to repay the fines, after advice from an outside agency was involved. This was the ultimate admission that the whole closure was a mistake and must have been deeply embarrassing for James and his councillors. I was more upset, however, when his opponents were not satisfied with his embarrassment but wanted his resignation. It was never just about this particular issue it was about the annihilation of an opponent!

Mistakes are made. Failures happen. I am reminded of an interview with Russian theatre director, Lev Dodin when he said,

Failure… leads to quite artistic things, because if you are not afraid of failure you can try, you can experiment, you can search for new ways, whereas when you are afraid of failure you wouldn’t do it, you would do it the way you did it yesterday… (Lev Dodin in conversation with Robin Thornber at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 23rd April 1994, Michael Stronin (tr.), cited in Maria Delgado and Paul Heritage (eds.), ‘In Contact With The Gods?: Directors Talk Theatre’ (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996) p74)

In an interview, James Alexander admitted his mistake and explained he was trying to solve a problem that continues today; that of congestion. He asked for the alternatives to eleviate this problem and promised to search for the solution. The interviewer was not satisfied and pressed him to acknowledge his embarrassment further and even decide to resign.

I felt for him. Over the last two years I have got to know James a little bit and I know how much he cares about his work. I get tired of cynics. Cycnicism is yet another sickness our culture suffers from. It is addictive and damaging. It kills hope and encourages bitterness and resentment. It stems from a competitive spirit which engulfs us and brings nothing but death. There are some in the city of York who seem to be particularly cynical and spiteful. The way people speak of public figures is violent and horrible. The pressure felt by many of those who try and serve the citizens is immeasurable and I feel for them. I long to be able to help them in their distress. No one deserves the sort of treatment they receive at times.

Imagine that every time you make a mistake people turned round and dismissed you, stopped talking to you and forced you to give up parts of your life. Imagine that you upset a partner and you were forced to leave your home and children. Imagine if you upset a colleague at work and were forced to leave your job. It is easy to get rid of someone who has succumb to weakness or made a mistake. This is an easy punishment but this is not excommunication!

In this chapter it is made clear that excommunication is aimed to be a temporary state where the abbot can give his utmost care for a member of the community who is struggling. This is not about enforcing more embarrassment and pain. It is not about taking some strange pleasure in rubbing salt into a wound. This is about caring for ‘the sick’.

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The church is for sinners

St. Benedict quotes Matthew’s gospel,

those who are well do not need the physician, but those who are sick. (Mt 9:12)

In their chapter on the Church in ‘Red Letter Christianity: living the words of Jesus no matter what’ (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2012), Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo quickly begin talking about hypocrisy,

[SHANE:]Here’s what I’ve come to realize: people do not expect Christians to be perfect, but they do expect us to be honest. The problem is that much of the time, we have not been honest. We’ve pretended to be perfect and pointed fingers at other people.

[TONY:]While Saint Francis recognized the church’s failures and hypocrisies, he still saw it as a community of faith where Christ could be encountered. When young people say to me, “I can’t be a part of the church because the church is full of hypocrites,” I always say, “That’s why you are going to feel right at home among us.”… In the end, we’re all hypocrites.

I’m always struck by the issue Jesus tackled lots: hypocrisy. He does not condemn the Pharisees. He never sought to destroy them or eliminate them; he always sought to name the issue – hypocrisy. The Pharisees were not un-saveable, beyond redemption; they were sick like everyone else and Jesus named their sickness. Jesus loved and respected them and wanted to see the Pharisees flourish. Jesus says that many of the Pharisees are close to the Kingdom of God (Mk 12:28-34).

It is easy to dismiss failures but harder to live with them because when we see them being forgiven and redeemed by God and are forced to ask,

Can I too be forgiven?

It is easier to condemn than to hold and seek healing. It is easier to end suffering with a quick decision than wait and seek surprising hope. This is my ultimate issue with the Assisted Dying Bill; it’s easier to die than to hope. I do not blame those who suffer great pain to want it all to end ‘now’; I know that desire to succumb to the abyss for it surely is a comfort compared with the searing pain of this life. If you look around you and there is nothing to live for why bother? Why continue?

I’ll finish on a painful and personal truth: I often ask if it would not be better just to end my life. What a mess the world is in. How much pain I cause without even knowing it. All my attempts at improvement fall and I am weak. If there is no hope of me achieving the perfection which is demanded upon me then I should end it all now. I feel this in the darkest points of the night. I feel the desire of the countless number of people who look at this world and the failures of us all and think we should just end it all now; why wait?

It is not compassionate to agree and encourage that action. Compassion is acknowledging that thought, feeling that pain and the reality of that desire but, to be Christian is to proclaim hope. To look at the world through a different lens. The lens of Christ says it is worth holding on. It is worth the wait.

I was deeply struck by Lord Falconer’s response to the church requesting a Royal Charter to look into the issues raised by the Assisted Dying Bill. Falconer is quoted as saying, that the matter must be discussed urgently.

Why rush? The same was said two years ago in General Synod about women being allowed to become bishops; in the impatience of a motion we rushed it and it fell. Now, after time and facilitated discussion a better, strong case is formed and led to healthy commitment to one another.

Reflection

Yes it’s easy to push ourselves and others into the abyss of rejection and loss but that is not what God does to us. He judges us but commits to the healing and redemption as well. He will not reject nor abandon us in our weakness, hypocrisies or failures. He knows that failures shape most of what we do and that fear is crippling. He speaks hope of renewal and new life to us; that is the Christian message.

For my friend James Alexander I say, ‘Do not be afraid. God gives you a second chance and you’re still loved.”

To those struggling in the temptation of making a clean break and retreating from those they have disappointed or let down, either through moving or death, I say, “Do not be afraid. God is the Good Shepherd and he will find you, wherever you run to, and he will comfort you and restore you.”

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us sinners.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 24: the measure of excommunication

It is ironic that after beginning to reflect on forgiveness and modes of reconciliation I should be in need from you, my dear reader, for forgiveness. I am disappointed with my self that I was unable to meet my deadline for publishing a post last week. I have my excuses! I am set to fly to Portugal in a week or so and to take some time out of public ministry takes an equal amount of time to prepare. I’m off for two weeks and so the last fortnight has been almost none stop; every moment available to work has been filled and, I’m sorry to say, one of my rest time has been taken over too. I’m also trying to think of the time I can carve out to write the next two weeks reflections in lieu of me going away. Maybe I should leave it until I get back…

Anyway please forgive my tardiness and lack of writing. I hope you understand.

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For minor faults a brother should be kept from eating at the common table

Why are we not afraid of excommunication?

I have been reflecting on the nature of excommunication and why it is not used all that much anymore. The banishment of a member from a community is not all that big a deal in our society. We excommunicate ourselves so often that to banished by someone else is a familiar experience. In our highly individualistic culture many of us are already starved of meaningful relationships and community that to be told not to participate is of no great significance. In fact maybe our equivalent is to be forced to stay in community as penance!

It was Billy Ocean who once wrote,

When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

I’ve never fully understood that lyric but I’m inclined to disagree. When the going gets tough, the tough dig in It takes boldness and strength to stay even when relationships are sour and there is a breakdown of communication. It is path of suffering and heartache to walk that way and no one will walk it without ending up with scars but we walk it because God chose to walk it and it is in his shadow that we journey.

In olden times when we were more aware and appreciative of the worth and value of community, families and our social aspect to be cut off from other humans, to experience the complete lack of connection with an other would be a shocking and terrible thing. Today, when loneliness is so rife, this experience is not a punishment but almost an accepted reality. To be self-sufficient, self-reliant is an expectation and to be dependent on another is weakness of the highest order. This lie is a sickness that needs a drastic healing.

Excommunication, being refused a place at a common table, is in no way a punishment or a fear in our age; it is an expectation and assumption of millions of people. Mother Teresa famously said,

The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty — it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There’s a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God. (Mother Teresa quoted in REACH, col.27, no.4 (Grand Rapids: Christian Reformed Home Mission, 2001)

I’ve been reading Ian Mobsby’s and Mark Berry’s excellent book, ‘The New Monastic Handbook: from vision to practice’ and reached a chapter on practicing healthy communities. When talking about trust and belonging in new monastic communities they write,

The formalised virtues and spiritual practices become the bedrock for developing trusting and accepting relationships in the ecclesial community. Some new monastic communities encourage people who have to work hard at maintaining a healthy relationship, meeting regularly to ensure that communication difficulties or problems do not occur or escalate over time.

When a breakdown of relationship happens the punishment is not excommunication anymore but super-communication because loneliness is now a default not relationship. It pains me to write or acknowledge that but it is so true.

Reflection

The challenge today when living in community is not about how to get people to come, it’s about how to get them to stay! Everyone wants to be in community. There is an ideal community they hold to and the reality soon strips that romantic vision away. When the reality of living with others’ brokenness hurts (and it will hurt) staying feels like a punishment; it is no longer easy or expected.

Relationships of love, however, require a choice, to stay or to leave. This choice must be present at all times and must be genuine. To keep people in community is no longer loving but you hope that each member will find the strength to stay and bear the fruit from trust and belonging. The healing of our individualistic culture will come from people living the life of committed relationships of love. This is how we, as Christians, reveal the reality of God, to live in the supernatural strength of His love, grace and forgiveness and allow Him to shape us, as His body, into His likeness, God in community.

Holy God, Three in One, how beautiful is your love and fellowship! We desire to know and participate in the Triune strength of community. We need your strength to help and hold us at those times when our weakness breaks others and divides us. Save us from our selfish ambitions and vain conceits.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 23: excommunication for faults

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If a brother is found to be stubborn, disobedient, proud or a murmurer…

When is enough enough?

As we head towards the middle of the year and, having prayed through the Rule of St. Benedict for 24 weeks, I have begun to ask:

What happens when someone fails to live in accord with others?

We all hold some ideals of behaviour and moral decisions, however loose they are. We are all soon aware, after spending any time with other people, that we all fall short of our own expectations and the expectations of others. It is easy to beat ourselves up over our repetitive failures and disappointments and easy also to point out the faults of others. Even if the ‘law’ does not exist in concrete terms there are always guidelines or expectations within a group of correct ways to behave and when those expectations are not met there is a cry for justice or a lesson to be learnt.

Having reflected a lot on discipline over the last two weeks and how I respond to different forms of it being exercised on me personally, I have found that I appreciate it when people package criticism or complaint within a reminder of deep and real relationship. I wrote two weeks ago about the need to be known; to be in a long term trusting relationship, where character formation can happen. Our deep changes in character cannot be done in a vacuum or in some distant, business-like environment but in deep and loving relationships. I respond to people who have committed to me before they tell me my faults.

It is important not to automatically jump over the first stage of St. Benedict’s guidance to admonition. The Bible suggests if one hurts or causes conflict within the Body of Christ then they should be told, privately, on two occasions. This is harder than many of us are willing to give credit for. To go and tell someone directly and in love, in case of falling into reproof ourselves, is tough and vulnerable. It is easier to gossip and moan behind their back and then gang up with others and expel them… I sadly speak from experience.

The ‘failings’ of a fellow Christian is easier to speak about when the matter is small but we put it off and imagine it will be a one off. Rarely, if at all, are the large indiscretions not preceded by smaller minor offences. There is always that first sign of trouble. Take the story of Cain as an example.

After Cain and Abel take their offering to God and God prefers Abel’s to Cain’s, Cain’s ‘countenance fell’ (Genesis 4:5); he gave up. It was that small thing that shows he had allowed envy and jealousy into his heart. It was this small moment when he gave in to that voice in his head which said,

God loves Abel more than you because you’re… and he’s… It’s not fair.

That small paranoid voice that demands more attention or interprets others actions wrongly is a small seed which can fester and grow. It can quickly escalate into bitterness and anger and then to murder.

The question is when do you say something? When is enough enough?

In my family I was taught it was easier to talk about a small, relatively isolated issue before it embeds within someone’s character/personality and before it gets tightly woven into multiple and varying examples of actions and choices; before everything gets complicated and muddied. I was also taught it was easier to apologies at this stage rather than having to go back over many incidents. If you can acknowledge a problem early on it is easier to manage/‘master’ (Gen 4:7) It’s as God says to Cain,

If you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.

Resisting selfish instincts is hard work and to keep watch over them is a full time occupation that is why we are put in communities, into families. The correction, however, must be done with love, which is patient and kind, not envious or boastful, etc. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) To face wrongly expressed ‘truths’ is often painful and unhelpful in developing in character. What is needed is both grace and truth.

So when is enough enough? I’d say when it is easier to say something gently and patiently rather than when it is out of control and ingrained.

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Ministry of Reconciliation

After a year of being an ordained priest I have already had my share of conflict and need for reconciliation. This aspect of priestly ministry has been important in my personal understanding of vocation. The ordinal states,

Formed by the word, they [priests] are to call their hearers to repentance and to declare in Christ’s name the absolution and forgiveness of their sins. (The Ordination of Priests, Common Worship: Ordination Services, The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England: The Prayer Book as Proposed in 1928; The Alternative Service Book 1980; both of which are copyright © The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England)

To reconcile warring parties is to stand between them and hold them together in peace. This position means that you can become enemy to all sides as you try to mediate between them. Reconciliation is painful but it is to follow Christ in His ultimate work on the cross. Paul writes in Colossians,

For in him [Jesus] 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. (Colossians 1:19-20)

Over the next six weeks we will be reflecting on judgement, punishment and forgiveness but I want to begin by saying that the severity of punishment of excommunication must be understood and exercised within the complete mercy and grace of God who has reconciled all things in Christ. What that means is that all things are held in their correct place and relationship by Christ. Without this acceptance that God is working out that reconciliation, that bringing together of all things into harmony and right relationship with one another, then excommunication is a further severing of relationship.

Reflection

Conflict is hard and gut-wrenchingly painful. I have sat through break downs of relationship in churches, in marriages, in families and in businesses. I have been divided within myself as I see two friends or groups that I care for turn their backs on one another and vow never to speak again. I have tried to sit between people and encourage dialogue and peace and I have failed on many occasions. For me, peace and reconciliation can only occur when relationships are deep; deeper than the superficial exchanges we now label ‘relationship’. We, as a society, now settle for second rate relationships and miss out on sustaining and life-giving intimacy because we are afraid of the risk that it takes to enter such a commitment.

Loving Father, Prince of Peace, thank you for being the source of peace. Thank you for the blessed Trinity, community of love and commitment, our epitome of relationship. We are sorry for the times we cut ourselves off from others by our attitude, actions and words. Forgive us and bring us back to your love where we are held and transformed.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 22: how the monks are to sleep

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All the monks shall sleep in separate beds.

Why are you making this more complicated than it needs to be?

When I first read this chapter I was struck by how context is important when reading this document.

What is being described by St. Benedict in this chapter seems very odd to my modern brain and to enforce this on modern day monks would be a bigger deal than St. Benedict seems to be giving it credit.

If possible they should all sleep in one room.

They will sleep in their robes, belted but with no knives.

The younger brothers should not be next to each other. Rather their beds should be interspersed with those of their elders.

Each suggestion brings with it big questions:

Why do you need to even mention that monks sleep in separate beds or even that they not take knives to bed?

Why sleep in one room? Surely then you’d not need to be concerned about elders interspersing younger monks; I’m guessing they are likely to talk into the night!

So here is some context that has helped me to feel settled and to hear what God is saying through St. Benedict.

In Europe in those days it was uncommon for average people to have their own bedrooms. Families slept in one room. It was a luxury even for parents to have their own private room. Monasteries were a spiritual family and did pretty much the same thing… By our modern standards nothing was terribly private in Benedict’s cenobitical monasteries…They also slept fully clothed. This was to keep them ready to rise to meet Jesus in prayer at vigils around two or three o’clock in the morning…Few people actually had nightclothes in those days. The average person slept in regular clothes and used his cloak as a cover. The monks were no different. (John Michael Talbot, Blessings of St. Benedict (Minnesota: Order of Saint Benedict, 2011) p.23)

In those days sleeping arrangements were different and therefore the view of bedrooms was different. Today we see a bedroom as a private space, one that, generally speaking, is considered deeply intimate and personal. Teenagers become possessive over this space, demanding privacy and solitude. The clutter and mess is allowed in that space because they have authority and ownership over it.

None of these issues of privacy and solitude would be raised in a monastery at the time of St. Benedict but other concerns were being addressed. These seem so alien to us and from our different culture/context it seems the solution would be to change in line with our modern approach. Indeed that is what modern monasteries have done. The issues being raised here, I think, are the probability of younger, un-disciplined monks talking together late at night and then not being able to get up to pray. Also the issue of unity and familial understanding of the monastery; the fact that this chapter follows the chapter on the appointment of deans with its implicit sense of hierarchy beyond Abbot and monk is telling, I think.

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The Family not The Business

I am more convinced that the major issue with the Church of England at the moment is that we are discovering the cost of treating the Body of Christ like a business/institution. I have explored this distinction between organism and organisation before and continue to see how this conversation needs to be had and acted on. The monastery, in the Rule of St. Benedict, is seen more in terms of organic and familial. This does not mean that there is not structure or guidelines but these are more flexible and therefore useful.

If we treat a church in the terms of business then hierarchy rules and is the structure in which we exist. This brings with it questions of power and authority and people’s roles define them rather than their character and relationships with others. Someone is treated a certain way because of what they do rather than how they are known and they invest in relationship. Leaders then become figures treated with suspicion and thus are forced to assert authority or earn trust and respect. From this sense of needing to justify their position we get the whole culture of models of leadership that are systematised and objective.

I find the thought of hierarchy and the way authority is expressed within it difficult and, at worst, abusive. I baulk at its imposition upon me and obedience is not easy. Obedience in the familial settings seems more understandable to me and I wonder if others in my generation feel the same. I wonder if this is at the heart of why ‘millenials’ (or whatever you want to call people my age) struggle with the church (see ‘Chapter 5: obedience‘ post). I wonder if it is not the content of our worship or the beliefs we explore and journey with but the way we structure ourselves that put them off. What if they were invited to be a part of a community akin to a large family? There would be the authority figures within that community which were not enforced but emerged like any family. There would be those that were elected to teach and those who were looked to to organise but all would be natural and organic.

It is natural, when entering a new community or family, to be tentative and inquisitive. It feels wrong to enter it and demand you are heard and that everything should change to fit you but equally there is an organic process that is usually assumed within families that new members are accommodated but there is a natural order to family life as to authority and power. This image of the church as family comes naturally to me but it has been abused by the church as we stress the ‘family of God’ image but live out a ‘business of God’ model.

I’ll finish with this short piece written by the Lindisfarne Community:

Leadership in monastic communities was traditionally by the Abbot or Abbess (in the desert tradition Abba and Amma), meaning father or mother. In other words, leadership was seen to be of a familial relationship rather than, say, the hierarchy of military order or, as we would have it today, the bureaucratic efficiency of the modern business corporation. Monastic community is more akin to an extended family with parental care and oversight.

Of course, in the ancient world obedience to parental authority was a primary requirement and in the ancient Rules were rigorously enforced. Modern sensibilities find those practices too strict, not to say psychologically damaging. Nonetheless, the notion of spiritual parenting remains valid if reinterpreted through the lens of our modern social construction of the parental task: unconditional love and care, setting an example, creating boundaries in which to exercise freedom, a wise and gentle correction when necessary.

Abbots and Abbesses in their turn, were in relationship with bishops who acted as spiritual advisers to the monastic community. This practice of mutual accountability is much needed as a counter to contemporary radical individualism.

Reflection

How do we recapture the organic understanding of the church? How does a parish church become, for those without a family environment to flourish within, ‘home’, with all its instinctive distribution of authority and participation? How do we re-structure or re-imagine the church to release these natural gifts of God as He portray in Scripture? I would suggest it starts with those who currently sit in authority.

For those who find themselves higher on the hierarchical ladder to step down and take the bold move of following Christ who did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. It takes someone who is perceived by others to hold power to relinquish and hand it over, to surrender it and live out, radically, vulnerability and intimacy in relationship. This is highly costly but I get the sense that it is what God wants of His church for today.

Loving Father, you welcome us into your family as heirs of your Kingdom and as adopted children. You encourage us to take our place and to participate in the working of this family. You hold us and teach us as we grow and learn. We are sorry for what we’ve made your church. Help us, particularly those of us who perpetuate the hierarchical divisions that have seemed necessary, to risk relationship above position and to live out the organic and familial images that you spoke through your Son Jesus Christ, who said the Kingdom of God is like a Father who had two sons…

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 21: the deans of the monastery

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In a large community respectable and devout brothers should be chosen and designated deans.

Why Deaneries?

The term ‘dean’ comes from the Latin ‘decanus’ which meant ‘leader of ten’. It was a Roman military term which was adopted by Benedict and other monastic orders as role within a community. Deans were appointed to assist the Abbot in the oversight of monks. In large communities with a number of members it would be a challenging, if not impossible, task for a single Abbot to know each of the members to the degree needed to advise, direct and discipline each one in spiritual formation. It is pragmatism that births this role but I am aware of the importance, particularly after the week I have had.

It is not right to go into the details of what happened and what was said but by the end of last week, after several conversations and encounters I was bruised. I had faced several meetings in which I felt singled out and accused based on assumptions and mis-interpretations of who I am and what I want. My actions and words were taken and misread. I was faced with words like ‘aggressive’, ‘threatening’ and ‘disruptive’. These words bite and in repeated experiences through the week I felt like people who I thought knew me were intervening to save me from ‘causing any more damage’. I needed to be stopped.

This was difficult not least because of the shock and surprise. There was no indication in any of these encounters that I was doing anything wrong. After the second or third meeting one must (if they hadn’t already) begin to ask themselves where these impressions are coming from. I began asking that question after the first one so keen am I to learn and grow.

By the end of the week and after lots of reflection, pray and discernment (both alone and with others) I found myself realising that I need to be known. We all need to be known. What I mean by that is not just people who know what we want them to know, like the identities we build on social media, but know us beyond that, know us deeper than we sometimes know ourselves. In this kind of relationship you are held with great care and are watched over by those who know what you’re capable of; good and bad. This knowledge is the kind that God has of us and, as the Psalmist writes,

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. (Psalm 139:6)

This is where the importance of a monastic-like community comes into the picture for me. I have found, after all that happened last week, a stronger and deeper call to live in an intentional committed community that can hold and support me as God develops and forms me. In these places of vulnerability I find that I am more useful to God in serving others because I know his protection and care through other people.

I have realised afresh this sense of isolation in ordained ministry and I don’t think it’s healthy. In the parish system with the model which was has been throughout the 20th century and continues today the minister is expected to be both part of and yet distant from a community whom he/she serves. There is a necessity, in order to survive, to have a public/private divide.

Don’t be friends with your parishioners!

I have never liked this aspect of public ministry and I have seen and experienced the pain and rupturing that this causes people. It makes me sick in the stomach to stand up the front of a gathering and to be forced, out of fear, to be smiles. It is a lie and it is not what people want or need.

The church does itself a devastating disservice when the ministers and pastors are taught to keep their doubts, their formations, their pain and struggles hidden out of fear that people may lose respect for them.

If those in a community really knew who I was then they’d realise I’m no different from them…

I’d love to quote Henri Nouwen from his famous book ‘The Wounded Healer’ but there are so many that I cannot choose. That book opens up the portrayal of a future leader who is able to articulate his own roundedness to invite people to face up and deal with the inner confusion of the human condition. Leaders are not there to promote ideas but to encourage people to share lives. How can this be done when the leaders/ministers feel isolated and lonely and unable to speak out their experience of this.

This is where I see the potential of deaneries.

Deaneries in the Church of England have varied success and failures but it is a common problem that they have very little purpose. Below the Deanery Synod is the PCC a singular local meeting of members of one congregation. Above the Deanery Synod is the Diocesan Synod a collection of representatives from the multiple congregations to meet and discuss things with a bishop and his staff. The Deanery Synod is an added level which has little purpose except to vet items from a singular congregation to the larger multiple meeting of the whole Diocese.

The monastic view of ‘deaneries’ is, in my reading of it, based on the need for monks to be known. Deaneries play a part in ministers/leaders (lay and ordained) being known. Deans, therefore, take on the role of knowing them, praying for them, advising them and disciplining them. When that function is taken away and they no longer are encouraged by the ‘abbot’ (bishop) then what are they for?

Reflection

I see great potential in deaneries but, as they are, they are purposeless. To see the church grow and find a deeper faith and spirituality we need to seriously reflect and shift the structures so that they are used for the furtherance of that goal. Whilst we keep this historic structure as it is without a clearly defined role then the more we will fumble about in the dark. I am grateful for the deep questions and exploration of my Rural Dean and Deanery Synod Standing Committee but they have a thankless task whilst people remain cynical, tired and disappointed by experience and would rather just close it down than breathe new life into it.

I offer this reflection not with a definite vision but with the hope of re-discovering values. What if there was a place for ministers and leaders, representatives who take on responsibility of leading congregations to be known, to speak honestly and to be supported. What if the Rural Deans were released and encouraged to have the capability of ‘sharing the abbot’s responsibilities’ rather than just plugging the gaps. What if power and authority was given to deaneries to be a place where the leaders (lay and ordained) of a particular collection of churches come together to pray and to be known. What if we begin to see ministry based not on individual autonomous parishes but in deaneries? What if ordained ministers were placed to work in a large team, under the direction of a dean, to serve the people of those parishes?

Lord of the Church, we are struggling to adapt to the changing landscape and to see where you are leading us. We thank you that you have already faced these issues countless times before and it is from the monastic tradition in the past that you have re-ignited faith in this land. I pray for Rural and Area Deans and pray that they may be encouraged and released to lead your Church. Grant unto us all wisdom and discernment as to how to move forward. I pray also for all who are burnt out and tired, isolated and lonely in leadership. I stand with them and weep. Surround them with people who know them who can strengthen them by your Spirit.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 20: reverence in prayer

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If we wish to ask a favour of those who hold temporal power, we dare not do so except with humility and respect.

How do we pray?

At the end of this section on the Divine Office it is interesting that St. Benedict decides to end on the topic of humility. The chapter before this section was also about humility. It seems this is of the deepest importance to St. Benedict and is at the very heart of the Rule for community life. It has been this revisiting that has made me re-read my reflections on humility.

I still struggle with this. I wrestle in my inner life trying to work it out and allowing God to shape me free from my resistance. I am increasingly aware that one cannot do this work in isolation; one always needs a community around them to help in the practice of humility. This community must, together, commit to the work of supporting and holding one another as each one enters into the process of going deeper with God.

St. Benedict uses the experience of being in the present of humans who hold significant power and how, when we are with them, we are aware of our our own power (or lack of it). We naturally compare ourselves with one another and this is most definite when the contrast is large. It is only when the difference between us and others is clear that we are forced to acknowledge it to ourselves. It is in these times we know where we stand in the ‘pecking order’.

At the end of this week I will visit Archbishop John Sentamu of York. He has recently taken on the role as Episcopal oversight of the Deanery of York of which I am a part. He now is my bishop to whom I go to for clergy review, discipline and support. I have always really appreciated ++Sentamu’s ministry and we have shared many good conversations together. He ordained me both as a deacon and a priest and we have served together on the Step Forward conference run each year at Bishopthorpe Palace.

Despite having shared some social time together, as well as more formal occasions, I am always deeply aware of the weight of his presence and his authority. I may have questions or doubts as to how he uses that power but nonetheless I am acutely aware of his abilities to wield it both for good and (potentially) for bad. When we talk I rarely talk at great length due, in the most part, to my awareness of lack of knowledge and authority on subjects. On both legal, spiritual, theological and ethical matters ++Sentamu has more experience and expertise than I and should bow out of any debate. I did try once to argue that St. Aidan was to be given more credit than St. Paulinus and St. Augustine for the evangelisation of England… I tried but I think I failed!

This respect, forced or deserved, that I feel in the presence of ++Sentamu is not debilitating nor destructive of a relationship. As well as feeling inferior I also feel respected and cared for by him. My respect for him as a person is, I hope, mutual. I know he is interested in me and my ministry. I think he wants to see me flourish and wants to support me. I am listened to by him and, as much as he can, he looks out for me and holds me in some esteem. I am thankful for this relationship and thank God for our partnership in the Gospel.

St. Benedict uses this experience to portray our relationship with God. God is much more worthy of respect and awe than ++Sentamu. God alone is to be feared but, along with this fear there is also a deep sense of the safety and love God has for us, his children. When we go into his presence in pray we are to balance these emotions.

Some of us err, too much on the side of familial and breeze into God’s presence with conversation and chit chat. There’s nothing wrong with that. God loves to speak to us and have relationship with us but we should never take such relationship for granted. At times a colloquial relationship with God can lead to forgetting the heavy price paid for such a relationship which we should always be mindful of and thankful for. This awareness of the weighty grace shown to us should lead us into a deep awe and amazement at what he has done in order to have the conversation you so easily can have with him.

Others, however, err on the side of fear and trembling and see God so high and lofty above us that he remains distant from us with little affection between us. Christianity is unique in its understanding of God as, Abba Father. Jesus revealed a desire of God to be intimately involved in our lives like a good father is. Most religions see God as Creator and all powerful, and rightly so, but they miss out on that close and caring father image. Christians, following the example of Christ, emphasise this fatherly image because God has shown he cares for us by his death and resurrection.

God, in the Bible, is described as both a Lion and a Lamb. He is a lion because he is fierce and dangerous, ferocious. He is also known as a lamb, led to the slaughter, pastoral and innocent. The lion image creates in us a caution; no one would walk into a lion’s cage free from fear and respect but it would take something particularly peculiar for someone to be afraid of a lamb. Our approach to prayer and our relationship with God should be as C.S. Lewis describes it in his Narnia series. When the children enter Narnia for the first time, Aslan, the God figure in the series, is described by Mr and Mrs Beaver. Lucy asks whether Aslan is safe,

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.

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The different kinds of prayers

I am aware of the different types of prayer that we participate in and yet we only use one word for them all. We say prayers in church services, and at Divine Offices. We pray alone, in pairs and in small groups. We pray out loud and in silence. We pray requests to God. We pray for discernment. We listen. We talk. We pray out of duty and we pray out of need. Contemplation is prayer just as much as extemporary, charismatic prayers. All of these have something different about them but they’re all called ‘prayer’.

It is wrong to suggest one is superior to another but equally it would be wrong to not use one type by telling ourselves they are all the same. To say, “I don’t pray out loud because it’s just the same as praying in silence.” leads you away from praying with others and sharing the public side of our faith; it would be like saying, “I don’t talk to my friend when other people are in the room.” It’s weird! In this chapter, St. Benedict is speaking specifically about prayers in the Divine Office. Philip Lawrence, OSB, Abbot of Christ in the Desert, suggests,

The admonition on short prayer in community comes from the way in which our ancestors looked at prayer. Quite often the saying of prayers was seen as distinct from the prayer itself. After saying a prayer, then one prayed in the heart and this was considered “prayer.” So in some of the early traditions, after each Psalm there was a short period for this spontaneous cry from the heart to the Lord. It is this type of prayer that must be kept short and pure–and not prolonged because it really cannot be prolonged. Attempts to prolong such prayer are usually just show and not reality. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 20: Reverence in Prayer”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, May 20 2014, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/890.html)

Reflection

I continue to reflect on the place of prayer in communities. I’d be interested to know if research has been done on how the frequency and nature of prayer changes a communities experience and understanding of God. I am currently part of two particular communities with very different views on prayer. One, my parish church, has a broad understanding of prayer and each member seems to have a different view on what it is and how it should be done. This emphasis is not bad and, as a minister and teacher in the community, it is part of my role to encourage people to develop their prayer life to all the different types of prayer. The other community is Burning Fences which used to read a liturgy from Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community, at the end of our weekly gathering and now finds another kind of prayer. It was noted during a discussion last week that the inclusion of prayer has slowly morphed into a reflection on spirituality rather than a direct prayer. The place of prayer, i.e. talking directly to God, in Burning Fences is an interesting topic which we will need to raise as we move forward.

Abba Father, Glorious and Majestic Creator of the cosmos, I thank you for being my lion, defending me from foes and being able to fight for me the powers that seek to oppress me. I thank you also for being the lamb that was slain. I thank you that I can meet you in the Temple, where you sit on a throne high and lifted up and that I can meet you in the street, in the face of the poor and down cast, that I know you close by in my home and work.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 19: how the Office should be performed

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We believe that God is everywhere, and the Lord sees both good and evil in all places.

Why go to church?

As we come into land on the specific matters of prayer in a monastic community, like that of the previous section on ‘matters of authority’ (chapter 1 – 7), St. Benedict ends on an idealistic vision; a goal to aim for. He begins this picture by affirming

God is everywhere.

He does this to acknowledge that, yes, we don’t have to go to a particular place with a particular group of people to pray. You, as an individual, can pray in any place at any time but there is a time and place to specifically go to where his presence is particularly felt. This reminds me of words from Common Worship’s Eucharistic Prayer A which says,

It is indeed right, it is our duty and our joy, at all times and in all places to give you thanks and praise, holy Father, heavenly King, almighty and eternal God, through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.

It does not take long for St. Benedict to highlight an often forgotten aspect of this argument; that, just as you can be in contact with God at any time and in any place you wish, so can he be with you seeing

…both good and evil in all places.

It is surprisingly frequent that I hear people proclaim their belief that you don’t need to go to church to be a Christian. Although I agree with that statement the assumption is not correct. What the person often means (you discover after some further questions) is that to be Christian is a matter of belief alone, ascribing to some statements as true or false or ‘hedging your bets’. To go to Church is seen as an unnecessary waste of time when you’ve already signed to say you are willing to be identified and ‘protected’ as a Christian (until it gets tough). The people I hear this from often cite the truth that God is everywhere and they can pray (if they want to) wherever they are. Indeed many people admit they pray, i.e. they say some words and, as much as they can tell, if God does exist, they think he hears and will act on their behalf.

What these people don’t always care to realise is that those moments when they are not aware of God, when they don’t consider God’s presence with them, God is still everywhere and he ‘sees both good and evil in all places.’ God can become an agent who is commanded to turn up when we ring our prayer bell and depart when we do not require his services. What this means is, that if you want to take seriously the belief that God is everywhere and this means you don’t have to go to church to be a Christian then you must also admit that God is part of every aspect of your life. Being a Christian is not about going to a particular location at a set time but it is about a genuine relationship; a relationship that is two way.

What makes someone a Christian is an active desire to be continually shaped into the likeness of Christ. We do this by reading Scripture and seeing the character of God, perfectly revealed in the person of Jesus in the Gospels. We do this by gathering with other people who are desiring the same change into their lives and discerning together what it means and looks like to be like Jesus. Church then becomes not a place you have to go to but a place where Christians gather to share, to be encouraged, to see Christ in other people and to re-commit themselves to the task of transformation. It is a hospital where the continual healing of our lives can be done in a safe space. We also get shaped into the likeness of Jesus by prayer. Prayer, in this instance, is about inviting God to enter into your life and begin the work of transformation and change. Prayer is the way we open up the wounds of our life to God who can heal us and set us free.

Change is always painful because there is some loss involved. Change can be exciting as well as new things begin to emerge but, as St. Paul says in Romans,

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:22-23)

Prayer is a two-way relationship one where we are invited to speak and share, to cry out for change, but it is where God is invited, by us, to speak and share, to cry out for change, often starting in our own lives. When prayer is only seen as a formal request to an unknown agent who delivers what we order then it falls and rarely satisfies. Prayer is about relationship and that is why it is harder than most people think because prayer asks something of us; it invites us to change and to lose something, an addiction to something that distracts or comforts us apart from God. We don’t care to admit it but we love the chains that holds us and imprison us (see ‘Lovers of Chains‘ post). We are all addicts to something and need healing and liberation. We rarely ask for it because the process is tough and the thought of letting that thing we deify, we hold up as our God, to go is inconceivable.
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Blind to Addiction

It is in R Kelly’s questionable song that he says,

My mind is telling me no but my body my body’s telling me yes

We are torn, as human beings, between that which we might consider noble and that which is more ‘instinctive’. Our conscience is trained to know what is right but our issue, increasingly, in our culture is that there is less shared ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. We do, however, continue to talk as if there is but everything is up for questions as authority is moved and changes. The difference between that which is ‘noble’ and that which is ‘instinctive’ is about that which raises us out of purely materialistic desires, the tangible and the animalistic into a realm of rationality and consciousness. These should be united but they are not always so.

We are creatures that can justify action. There is a wealth of opinion and countless beliefs we can articulate and ascribe to and any action can be explained. We are also in a culture of precedent so if someone else has done it then it is possible for someone else to do it too. This means when barriers are pushed and moved, they are irrevocably pushed and moved. We hope that our beliefs will inform our action but I think the other way is more true; our need to justify, to ourselves as well as to others, our actions shape our beliefs (if I did x I must believe y).

You will see this insight when you live with an addict. Their dependency on a particular substance is rationally justified. It is the extreme cases of alcohol and drugs that we are more aware of it but this justification that comes out of the mouth of those addicts comes out of all our mouths at some point. We may phrase it differently but it is the same,

I can’t help myself.

I need that person to feel secure.

Surely if this makes me happy it’s not wrong.

We justify to ourselves why we need the props and crutches in our lives and religion can be one of them. Having crutches is not necessarily a problem; if you have a broken leg it is helpful for a time of healing but the aim is to let go of the crutch and be free. Religion is a crutch while we heal, the aim is to be free.

My brother in law gave an image, which I find helpful. He was talking about the Law of Moses as St. Paul talks about in Romans. He sees the Law of Moses as a cast which you place over a broken part of our body; the cast does not heal the break but it protects it while it heals. The healing comes from the Spirit. The same is true, I think, of crutches. What is important is not the crutch but the healing.

The problem is we have an odd relationship with crutches. The analogy breaks down after a while so maybe it would be easier to talk about pain-killers. These are helpful and help us live with illness and pain but they can also become something we rely on and therefore blind us from our awareness of the need to heal. The initial problem may disappear but we don’t know and we become addicted to the pain-killers and we justify it to ourselves that we believe we still need them.

Reflection

St. Benedict ends this chapter with an interesting sentence,

Let us rise in chanting that our hearts and voices harmonise.

The aim in prayer is that our hearts and voices harmonise; so what we say is what’s in our heart but also what’s in our hearts is what we say. This extends, I think, to our actions too.
To be Christian is not about going to Church, about saying the right things, but is it is about allowing and inviting God into your lives to transform you into the likeness of Jesus. To be like Jesus is to have your voice and heart harmonised and that your heart is instinctively noble; that which you do without thinking is pure and Godly. We don’t perform Jesus but we become Jesus. We know what Jesus is really like by Scripture, by other Christians and saints and by prayer and the work of Holy Spirit through that relationship. Our authority then must be on three things: Scripture, Tradition and Reason.

Heavenly Father, you are indeed everywhere, you are with us at all times and in all places and you stand at the door to our lives and knock. You never force yourself in but you are wanting to be in our lives to make all things new. I’m sorry for the times that I have sent you back out of the door to hide parts of my life from you. I lie to myself and train myself to believe that you are in it all and you bless all my thoughts and actions but I know that that isn’t true because I’m not yet like your Son, Jesus.

Come, Lord Jesus

Struggling with No-Man’s Land

I have, in the past, been a fan of the part ii’s, the part iii’s, etc. I was going to name this post ‘Fleeing to No-Man’s Land (part ii)’ but I realised that the verb was wrong. I am calling this ‘Struggling with No-Man’s Land’ because that better describes my honest, if not entirely correct, emotion at the moment. This post comes from my continued reflection on the community which I love, Burning Fences.

If you have not read my first reflection, which I remain completely committed to, then please read it here before proceeding…

…

Nomansland …Ok. Since I wrote that reflection there has been a growing sense of some footing being lost amongst us. We have felt, at different moments, that we have lost our way or the passion has waned. This has been due to various small events in the life of our community which have combined to create not a destruction or a despair but a niggle, a question to arise: what are we doing?

I, in a broken and fumbled way, attempted to voice this concern to my fellow fence burners to see if I was alone; I was not. I tried then to gauge where this ‘dis-satisfaction’ was coming from. It was not clear. We all had different theories and, therefore, different solutions. We gathered together for a weekend away and I ‘hosted’ the space. I didn’t do a perfect job but I tried my best but even at the end of this wonderful time together there was a niggle; quiet but persistent, like a headache which has become habitual, not debilitating but present, sometimes forgettable but, in the still times returns to remind and prompt attention.

After the weekend away I sent out an email to some to see if people thought it might be good to have an open meeting to discuss this ambiguous question of how to acknowledge what Burning Fences is.

This desire to define and name came with a great heaviness for me as I still believe that there is a danger in this course of action. With definition come boundaries to cross, requirements to meet, entitlement to battle with, etc. The temptation to do so is great and most follow it but seem to come unstuck by it. I wonder whether this is our challenge, as a community, to pioneer the narrow path away from it and lead others to a secret place of truly organic and free space. Is such a place possible?

And this is why this post is called ‘Struggling with No-Man’s Land’ because I am deeply torn. The call/demand on my inner being to follow suit and define this community is great. I have justified how we can do it without damaging the freedom we have enjoyed in not defining or acknowledging. Most of these justifications come from a deeply held understanding that with no markers we must be prone to float from one thing to another and there is no defence against any ‘spirit’ or idea which could equally destroy than strengthen, enslave as to liberate. There is, in this non-demarcated space no source of discernment accept our flawed concepts of reality and shifting judgments.

the_clearing_by_crossie A wise brother amongst us wrote a deeply honest and profound response to my call for a discussion. He named the beauty of Burning Fences as ‘a clearing’. He writes,

We run into problems when any one group tries to colonise the clearing.

That sentence struck me as deeply important. How? I’m not sure.

In a discussion about Burning Fences with someone on the periphery looking in we were described, by them, as either,

A secular space in which Christians inhabit and live out their faith.

Or,

A space created by Christians and where anyone and everyone is invited to come and inhabit.

Both have strengths and weaknesses. The first image has the strength of describing the Christian as a resident alien, a guest who honours the code of hospitality that guests have. It’s weakness is that it can easily be seen as an invasion or takeover. The second image develops a sense of hospitality. There is a basic assumption in good hospitality that the guest is free to make the space their own and the host serves them and welcomes. The problem comes when the power is mis-read and, no matter how much it is expressed, the space is never owned by the guest.

There are big questions here of our understanding of hospitality and one which we must wrestle with but both these images are not apt descriptions of Burning Fences because the space in both has an ownership by one party. Hospitality requires a power-game between host and guest. My wise friend and fellow fence burner is closer: it is a clearing which is not owned by anyone. It is ‘no-man’s land’.

The beauty of No-Man’s Land is that it is neutral territory where everyone is simultaneously both host and guest. The different parties come together and build together.

It reminds me of Vincent Donovan’s approach to his mission to the Masai described in ‘Christaianity Rediscovered’. He writes this,

…the unpredictable process of evangelization, [is] a process leading to that new place where none of us has ever been before. When the gospel reaches a people where they are, their response to that gospel is the church in a new place, and the song they will sing is that new, unsung song, that unwritten melody that haunts all of us. What we have to be involved in is not the revival of the church or the reform of the church. It has to be nothing less than what Paul and the Fathers of the Council of Jerusalem were involved in for their time – the refounding of the Catholic church for our age. (Vincent Donovan, Christianity Rediscovered (London: SCM Press, 2009) p.xix)

It was in No-Man’s land that peace came, for the briefest of moments during the Great War. It was in the middle of the deeply dug trenches that people were free to meet and experience peace in a simple game of football; neutral, no power games, shared. This is the beauty of such a clearing.

I begin to realise that my issue at the weekend away was the locus of hospitality was skewed. I, along with a select few others, were ‘hosting’, and others considered themselves ‘guests’. This has a definite dynamic in the relationship and how people respond to the space created. What I wanted was a shared ownership but I attempted to achieve this by ‘hosting’. This is where the invitation to a radically different hospitality comes into its own. One which I consider godly; where the host is the guest, the guest the host and service is from all to all in a beautiful mutually loving community.

But is it sustainable?

In this space, what is the source of discernment? What is the shared authority? What fosters peace and reconciliation? What is it that guards against colonisation? For me, as a Christian, what does it mean to see God’s Kingdom extend and grow in this place where no name can be spoken over it? Where does No-Man’s people move to?

orthodox-priest-in-kiev-jan-22-2014 This is our quest: to inhabit, together, No-Man’s Land. To share the space making no claim on it for ourselves or the parties, agendas and personal empires which we are tempted to enforce. We desire, however, to build our home there for to be at peace one must feel a sense of belonging. To what are we committing and how can that be spoken in this between place?

I am convinced this is our challenge and one which, if manifested, will break a temptation that many groups have suffered under. There is a great weight to the task that lies before us and I pray to God for wisdom and boldness to enter in.

Chapter 17: the number of psalms said in the Day Office

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If the monastic community is numerous, the Hours shall be sung with antiphons; if small, without.

What is the place of artistic expressions within a community?

I have been on a community weekend away with Burning Fences where I was privileged to be able to organise/lead the input. I was acutely aware that, we, as a community, are experiencing some of the natural friction to life in relationship. There are multiple desires and visions to balance and contend with, there is the encouragement to bring brokenness and struggles into the public sphere in order to be known more deeply. All of this brings a highly volatile space and one that has, simultaneously both great potential for liberation and great risk of suffering and pain. We are not the first nor are we alone to experience some of this; it is the natural risk of relationship which commitment demands you fully enter and grasp.

I introduce this week’s reflection like this merely to highlight how this beloved community, who I consider to be the place from which I speak, the people with whom I speak and the situation to which I speak, is continually leading me into an deeper understanding of what a monastic apostolic community looks like. It also is proving to be the practical out workings of my reflections on the Rule of St. Benedict and I find that both inspiring and encouraging.

The other reason I begin by discussing Burning Fences is because, on the weekend away, we used Open Space Technology to hold conversations about that which is important to us as a collective. One of those discussions was on the place of creativity in community and explored (for the parts I was there for) the specific part of Burning Fences’ life; artistic expression/performance.

All of Burning Fences appreciate art in it’s many forms but not all of those who gather are able to contribute or, feel that they would like to. For some, Burning Fences is a place where they can explore new artistic endeavours, to try out and collaborate, but for others they don’t feel they are ‘creative’ in this way. Although I would not use that word for what they are expressing, choosing rather to use the word ‘artistic’, I do agree that there are some who are more competent and able to perform/present art in our group while others question what they have to offer to feel a part of Burning Fences.

On the Friday evening of our weekend away we held a ‘community circle’. This ‘community circle’ is a combination of haflat samar, story circles (traditionally held in the old celtic church) and Caedmon Evening (currently practiced by the Northumbria Community). The framework of the evening is everyone is invited to bring something to share as an expression of any kind. This contribution can be a simple joke, an epic poem, a song, a quote, anything that they think will inspire or facilitate reflection. I, as host, began by reading a story to frame the evening. I read a rewriting of Bede’s account of Caedmon who, loved listening in on such evenings but never felt able to contribute until, one night, he found himself dreaming about God giving him the gift of song. When he awoke he was able to sing beautifully. After this story, the group then participate in a collective act of art/liturgy. In this context liturgy acts as a binding together and bringing people together and encourages the group to express a shared desire or identity.

After this shared act the space is open for anyone to speak into it. People are encouraged to listen and respond how they feel is appropriate. The order of presentation is completely self-governed and each person places their contribution where they feel it fits best. By the end of the evening everyone had contributed something and it had flowed beautifully. There were some performances which may have been judged ‘better’ than others but in the light of day I could not tell you which was which because in that space of community it was not the objective quality that was important but the way in which we (and our offering) interacted with others. (You can read a poem which I wrote during our ‘community circle’ here.)

So what is the place of artistic expressions within a community?

For many communities the use of music and song is central to their community gatherings. Rituals and liturgical frameworks use music and rhythm. A community at its most basic is a social group whose members share a commonality of some kind. In order to maintain a cohesion to any community there needs to be an expression of that shared commonality, be they beliefs, locality, ideas or any other identifiers. This most profound way of doing this is through the evocative and emotive use of music. Artistic expression, therefore, takes an important part of many communities.

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The place of art

What I find interesting about this chapter in the Rule of St. Benedict is the directions for when a community is small.

If the monastic community is numerous, the Hours shall be sung with antiphons; if small, without.

This is music to my ears (excuse the pun). I do not have a strong singing voice and I am very self conscious. I love to listen to singing and particularly choral harmonies but I struggle to participate. I join in singing if there is enough noise to drown me out and I am confident no one can hear my unstable voice. If I am leading a small group and I would love to worship in that context then I must rely on others’ abilities to lead in sung worship or otherwise we don’t get to enjoy that experience. Even when there is someone else leading the singing I struggle to join in and end up mute hoping no one notices that I am singing and feeling concerned that I am distancing myself from the group.

One phrase that stands out from the discussion on the place of creativity in community, particularly a group like Burning Fences, was that,

Artistic expression is affirmed/valued but not enforced.

We, as a community, appreciate artistic expression and will encourage anyone, whatever level of competency they have, to contribute but we do not enforce it as a necessary part of membership. This does mean that the more experienced artists are more prominent when it comes to the times for artistic expression but that does not equate to being more valued within the community. We appreciate that offering because, for some, we cannot make it but we want to enjoy it as a gathering activity but that does not mean that those members who can are in some way more important. If there is no offering in this way then you adapt, for the act must primarily be a communal expression and only then must we consider the practicalities of how we make it happen.

Artistic expression is appreciated but it is not a marker of your place in the community.

Reflection

Community should be a space where people feel safe and free to let down forced personas and be vulnerable. This makes community a difficult place because there is a high risk of it getting very messy very quickly and this kind of life should not be entered into lightly. It does require a level of commitment from a number of people or it will never achieve the level of trust and intimacy required for this vulnerability to be life-giving. It is only in a safe, trusting, committed community where people are free to explore new expressions of themselves and embrace the risk of failure in working out relationships and connection. This can be done through artistic expressions and, indeed, it is a special kind of expression, but it is not the only way.

We at Burning Fences, appreciate and affirm the musical and poetic expressions of beauty and we enjoy them together, even though not every member can directly contribute. We, the more experienced/confident artists are only able to express our shared commonality by listening and knowing all members. Membership is not measured by the artistic contributions one makes but by the depth of relationships you participate in.

Creative God in Trinity, you make us to know and enjoy beauty with others. We thank you for the ability of some to create beautiful music and song, images and poetry. We thank you for others who create beautiful relationships with equal skill. We thank you for others who support the beauty of life in their skills to construct order and stability in practical ways. We thank you for all of this as expressions of your immeasurable creativity in all things.

Come, Lord Jesus.