Tag Archives: space

In The Minster (part IV)

I was in marketing for five years but wanted to do something away from computer screens.

After the decision to find her vocation Vic started her training which began with a residential course which gave her an academic foundation for her work. After two years she was placed in an apprentice scheme which enabled her to put into practice the theory of her previous study.

Those first few months were both exciting and scary. The work demanded so much of me; physically and emotionally… It highlighted my weaknesses and that’s always frustrating but slowly I grew stronger and more confident of my capabilities.

Vic now stands at the top of the East Window of York Minster painstakingly restoring old, decayed stones and sometimes replacing the ones who have ‘passed on’ with new, fresh ones. She washes stones that have been mistreated by past conservers and lovingly restoring stones left to the elements.

The truth is the similarities in the training of stone masons and of clergy is by no means the end of the parallels. I was struck as I walked round the workshops how much the two vocations speak to each other. The attitude and commitment towards their work, the holistic impact the work has on the person and the humility developed by working in a tradition established over centuries and the call to play a part in building the legacy further, all map one onto the other.

I want to acknowledge first the clear connections between working with the Tadcaster stone in restoring a building like the Minster and working with the ‘living stones’ that make up the Church of God. I want to briefly highlight the loving care that a stone mason takes over one stone to make it sing with beauty and the call for us as ministers to spend time in helping a child of God sing of God’s beauty in them. All these connections are wonderful and amazing but I want to hone in on the masons themselves.

Dave showed me round the Stoneyard with a quiet and generous spirit. He took me to meet John, a man who has worked for 30 years with the Minster. He knows this building, its history, its quirks. He can predict the anomalies in the design before anyone else. He can tell, from looking at a stone whether it is an original or a stone from one of the many restorations over its long history (and which restoration it’s from!) When I asked him,

So, you must be something of an expert of the building?

I don’t feel like one. Every day I learn something more about the building. In some sense I’m always an apprentice.

What a beautiful sentiment. Even those who have worked for so long in building the Church should understand themselves always as an apprentice.

Dave then took me down to look at the untouched stone which will soon be prepared to go into the colossal building over the road. He told me about yellow veins. The yellow veins are the places where the rock hasn’t bonded together in the ground. One strike of a chisel and the whole piece will break into two. He took me into his workshop and showed me one stone that he has been carving for six weeks.

At anytime I could come across a yellow vein. I won’t know until it’s too late.

Six weeks work could come to nothing as the rock gives up and breaks.

It really humbles you. Every chip has the excitement and fear. Could this be the time it breaks… You’re no longer in control.

There’s no amount of technical training that will develop Dave into a mason who will never find a yellow vein in his work. He can learn all things and still be at the mercy of the complex and hidden forces that have got that piece of rock to that place at that time. There’s an element of trust on something that is beyond him.

He showed me the plans of that stone. A necessarily detailed design which he needed to follow to the letter or the building would be unstable because of that one stone. I asked him about the sense of connection with the masons of the past who carved the original design in the stone.

I’m just one mason in a long line of masons who have been involved in this building. It’s like they speak to us through the stones. It’s hard to explain… I can look at a stone in the Cathedral and get a sense of what that individual mason was feeling or what kind of day he may have been having when he carved his stone. We’re connected over the centuries… in a way.

I guess that makes your work seem dauntingly important.

I asked.

Yes to know that in centuries time some mason of the future looks at this stone I’m carving now and can tell so much about how I approached the stone. Makes you think about your attitude to the work, kind of calming yourself down before picking up your tools.

As a future member of a priesthood given the authority and responsibility of Holy Orders, I too will be joining a long line of priests who have gone before me. The difference for me as a priest is my legacy won’t be as tangible as Dave’s. That connection with tradition, however, does help me appreciate the need to prepare every time I minister to God’s people, for my attitude will affect how that ‘stone’ is, in response to my care.

I was then shown into the carver’s workshop. Here is where the intricate detailing is done. The two men stopped their work and asked me lots of questions about my training. After each stage was described they nodded and exclaimed,

That’s just like us.

They are clearly excited about the connections between their work on the outside and the work of the clergy inside the building. I asked them whether the Stoneyard is like a family.

Yes with all the family issues. We have rows.

Dave chipped in,

One of the masons, Les, is ill at the moment and we all take it in turns to visit him and help each other out to cover his work.

The problems usually occur when someone has an opinion about how you should handle a particular stone. But if you just concentrate on the stone you’ve been given responsibility for then we all support each other. Does that make sense?

How we as a Church could learn from that sentiment. As a parish priest I will be given responsibility and care for a small section of the Kingdom. We enter into disputes when everyone steps above their station and takes on the role of oversight of the whole building too soon. There’s a call to trust in those in authority knowing that it’s, by far the most difficult jobs. I witnessed that in Synod early this week; so many members, given half a chance, want to tell fellow workers how they should and shouldn’t treat their stones. The ‘masons’ questioning those who have been given the difficult task of keeping track of the meta-narrative and in a way taking their eyes off their stone. I remember John, up in the studio, pawing over the plans of the whole building knowing each stone but in relation to the much bigger building. Being responsible for the task of making sure the individual aspects fit together cohesively and will stand the test of time; entrusting the detailed work to the masons. I remember his humility and gentleness as to how he holds his responsibility. It reminded me of ++Rowan Williams.

Any final reflections that will help me get a sense of your work?

I asked.

We find it important to know that it’s no one person’s building… it’s everyone’s building.

Dave then took me to Vic, who I spoke of before. She took me up the scaffolding to the top of the largest window in Europe (I think!) She showed me the work they had done on one of the spires; beautifully carved and crafted work. Then she showed me the window itself and, again, the intricate detail that the masons of the original Cathedral had created. Then it struck me; the masons work on painstakingly carving the intricate detail would never be seen by those hundred feet down. The only people who may see that six or seven weeks of work would be themselves and, potentially, future restorers (and, of course, God Himself). The extravagance of the craft!

As a man called to participate in the building up of His Church I must remember the extravagant, secret and private work of the diaconal priest. I guess I want to end on the reading of yesterday from John’s gospel.

The story of Jesus washing the disciple’s feet has become the story of the diaconal order. What does this story say to my role as a deacon? The work of cleaning the dirt from people’s feet is a work done away from the crowds in a private space. The cleaning of the dirt is a necessary work. It’s a work that requires humility of the one washing but also vulnerability of the one being washed.

It is necessary and it is a privilege to see the fragile, stone behind the layers of corruption and decay and to be called to restore them and make them sing!

In The Minster (part III)

So what’s the point of cathedrals?

The more time I spend looking at Cathedrals, their communication and mission activity, the more I am convinced that they play the most significant part of our evangelism. It is interesting to me that these archaic, monuments to the past hold the potential key to our future.

I have worked closely with Durham Cathedral and now York Minster and have asked the question “How do we create in the heritage tourists a desire for faith tourism?” Millions of people visit our Cathedrals each year as historical monuments; they enter into a building used for worship, without us awkwardly befriending them and trying to time our invitation to come along. They come, almost, at their own volition and ask questions of the space, experience whatever is there. This is an enormous opportunity if only we could translate and interpret the space effectively.

As part of my placement in the Minster I have explored the ‘York Minster Revealed’ project being undertaken by Lottery Heritage Funding and the Dean and Chapter of the Minster. The idea is to invest millions of pounds into this heritage site to encourage more visitors to the Minster and, therefore, to the city itself. This may come across, to some, as selling out but I believe is a great mission opportunity and, I have to say, reading the Interpretation Plan, is clearly aimed at guiding people to experience the living, growing, life affirming faith and the God for whom the whole space is offered to in praise and worship each day.

Back in Durham, I am privileged to be a part of a team of ordinands who inhabit the Cathedral space there once a month. Our aim is to frame the space so that people can explore and encounter God there. We try and minimise the heritage signage, taking out donation boxes, stripping back to the walls and to the history of prayer soaked into the building. The atmosphere of the place is different for a number of reasons from the day time trade of tour buses and historical interest groups to the silent, meditative pilgrims encountering God in powerful ways in the evening. None of these reasons seem to sum up exactly what that difference is but the attitude in which people explore the space helps them to worship and pray for themselves.

Here in York, they have really simplified, as much as possible, and kept signage out of the space. Part of the Interpretation Plan is to use digital media such as Augmented Reality and QR Codes to inform people without layering it, physically, onto the building. This will help to keep the building as place of worship for the regular congregation. This will allow people to experience the space separated from the noise of the factual past and free them to experience the prayer and spiritual past and present.

In a conversation with the team who look after the heritage side of the Minster’s work it is clear that their aim is to use the building to tell the story not just of the past but the continuing life of the Minster as a community of worshippers.

I don’t care why they come but I do care that they leave knowing why they came.

An interesting idea which, I’m sure is shared by many missional leaders in parishes across the country. How do we use our heritage and history not to keep people thinking we’re past it but that we are present and we have an exciting future?

The undeniable truth is that Cathedrals get visitors! Parish churches struggle. Why? Well, Cathedrals dominate the skyline for one but they also have a clear story. I visit numerous heritage sites and love them. I judge them, not on their size but on the stories they tell. Warkworth Castle in Northumbria has no roof, very little walls and no guides but it tells a great story and has tried to tell it in interesting ways. Our parish Churches have stories or links to stories. We need to become more competent and confident to tell the story of the spaces we use for worship.

Take the parish church in Croxdale, County Durham. I did a placement there and visited the church of St Bartholomew’s. Still an active church but there’s an atmosphere about the place that is dark and cold. This has no relation to the community that worships there. The space is silenced by a whole number of things. During my time there I learnt that there was a community artist working in the hall next door. She rented that space from the church to use as a workshop and teaching space. I requested a meeting with her and suggested using the church as a gallery for local artists (who are currently struggling to find places to exhibit their work). This needs fleshing out but the potential to resurrect such a dark space into one of life and art and inspiration would lead, surely, to a reinvigorated life of faith.

Cathedrals don’t need to advertise more to get people into their worship buildings but they can work harder at translating the space from a heritage site to a place of encounter with the living God. The data informs us that people stay for services in York Minster and these events greatly change the whole experience of their visit. The realisation, surely, that this is not a static, dying building but one that grows and lives! Add into the visit Twitterfalls to help people communicate for the Cathedral unplanned, new, exciting discoveries as they happen to other visitors and suddenly the tourists become the guides and, who knows, the evangelists telling anyone connected to the Twitter conversation that they have encountered God in the Quire, Nave, Crypt, where-ever!

The thing I’ll take away from my time here in York is a sense of my passion and love of Cathedral mission. This is not an old building which needs to be sold but the greatest resource for communicating an historical faith alive and well in the heart of all our cities. Jonathan Draper and his team of ‘interpreters’ are passionate people naturally connected to millions of people each year all of whom are potential witnesses to the powerful love of God!

Let’s dig down deep and root ourselves in our past so that we see growth in the present and be a towering strength of hope in the future!

In The Minster (part I)

At the end of day two of my placement at York Minster there seems to be one big question running through my head and the conversations I’ve been having; “What’s the difference between Cathedral ministry and parish ministry?”

Canon Glyn Webster describes his role at the Minster as “The Parish Priest of the community” despite the Minster not being a ‘parish’. He sees his role as overseeing the pastoral needs of those who work and worship in the hallowed Gothic building in the centre of York. The staff here are amazed (and glad to tell me) that the Minster congregation is growing. Early morning Matins and Evensong every day and all Sunday services have increased their regular number over the last decade or so. This has not surprised me. Having spent the last two years working with Durham Cathedral and listening to many who work in Cathedrals across the country, this trend is shared by most of the Cathedrals. Why is this?

I had a very encouraging conversation with an ex arch-deacon of Cleveland, Ron Woodley today. He spoke passionately about parochial ministry and encouraged me by stating that “It’s the greatest life you’ll ever live. It’s hard but on balance I have never known of a more joyful life!” What a ringing endorsement from someone who had 40 years of active ministry. In the midst of our conversation he said something that rang true and has been helpful in my reflections. He suggested the difference between parish ministry and the ministry of the Cathedral is the Cathedral offers worshippers anonymity where parish life doesn’t.

I believe that to be true but is that a benefit or problem?

I have no doubt that there is a strong sense of community here in the Minster. I sat through a very touching funeral of a staff member and the sense of community was palpable. The packed quire at both the funeral service and at Evensong last night speaks of a committed worshipping community. During the worship, however, you just fade into the milieu of faces. I, personally, love that. I am not important to be individually picked out but I am just one, tiny speck, in a sea of people all worshipping and praising the almighty God.

In parishes, I have experienced a cry to ensure everyone is welcomed and identified and spoken to and acknowledged. This is very important if people are to feel part of a community. Too often we become insular and cliquey isolating and rejecting the new-comer. The sign of peace is a time to speak to and individually welcome each member of the community into worship. There is no anonymity. People want to and need to talk to you, know how you are, who you are before worshipping. There is no fading into the background and having time with God.

Here is the strange paradox; In order to have a personal moment with God, un-hindered by the concern that people might be looking at you, you need to fade into the sea of people. But to make people feel part of the sea of people we feel the need to personally meet and greet each person.

I find it interesting that Cathedral congregations are growing. Is it because that anonymity is important? That sense of a private experience in the protection of the mass of people is an aspect of our culture at the moment, is it not? In the development of evangelism of the last couple of hundred years we have seen a journey from up the front delivery to conversational, didactic forms of evangelism. The issue we face at the moment is no one even wants to ask the questions or engage in conversation. Many people have researched and studied the trends and we find ourselves in a culture that no longer asks questions of faith. I’m not saying that the Alpha model of evangelism, answering the questions of life, is outmoded but the research shows that it is increasingly difficult to get people wanting to even go to the meal!

What Cathedral worship offers which parish ministry doesn’t nor shouldn’t offer is the chance of a private, personal, surprise encounter with God. This may well lead onto the need for Alpha or any conversation with people of faith.

We have been trying to wrestle with this in our ‘Fresh Expression’ in Durham Cathedral (UR32B.wordpress.com). At the heart of this service is the desire to encounter God in the space; un-intrusive, anonymous, private encounters. We have struggled with the issue of how we create community with people who only want to experience God privately and not in community. How do you establish a Eucharistic community in this individualistic environment?

I’m not sure I can, yet, answer that question but what I can say is I believe that this anonymity in worship is what many unchurched people would be happy with rather than being thrust into a gathering where everybody knows everyone else and you are clearly the ‘stranger’; where in the worship you feel judged and on display. Where you are so busy worrying that you do and say the right thing that you don’t have the chance to experience something transcendent.

Cathedral worship allows you to ease into an experience of God whilst, at the same time, being part of a big group of people, all experiencing the same thing as you. Although nothing is said or physical contact made you still feel a huge sense of a united community, sharing the spiritual realm.

It is this truth that seems to be resonating for me at the moment in my last couple of posts. So I pray that as I continue on this placement that God will bring more revelations that will help me to articulate these thoughts!

MediaLit (part III)

Digital ‘space’?

In our final session on our final day at the MediaLit Conference we began a massive conversation with Prof. David Wilkinson. Although his seminar was on Theology and Apologetics it led to a heated debate about whether we can call the internet a ‘space’. We often use language of inhabitation of the internet leading to the image of a space in which to exist. Andrew Graystone, Director of the Churches Media Council, tried to helpful distinguish between digital ‘space’ and digital ‘environment’. He has stopped using the term ‘space’ as it leads to the confusion, but digital environment confuses me! How do I relate to environments? What is the analogy that will help in my understanding?

This discussion lead me to ask questions of the nature of ‘space’.

Earlier in the week we discussed online Eucharist. This is an online experience where people, inhabiting separate spaces join together through the digital media and share in the sacrament of Communion. This unsettled me from the start! Partly because one example was given that people broke their own, individual piece of bread, in their separate spaces. How our individualistic culture has even impacted the communal experience of faith!

Before anyone begins the discussion of physical restrictions on parts of our society through medical or circumstantial issues, I want to stress that I appreciate the complexities some people face trying to belong to a sacramental community. Allergies, Fears, Mobility; all of these shut down any possibility for some people to get to a certain space at a certain time to feel they belong and can participate in the life of a community. But there are big issues here!

Two main points to raise in the limited space and time I have had to reflect on this. One of them, interestingly, is about space and time.

To be ‘present’. What do we mean by present? To answer that I should ask it in a different way; what do we mean by ‘absence’? Absence is the state of being away from a place or person. In this definition absence is marked by spatial measurements, is it not? Let’s not begin to deconstruct it (at the moment at least) into the emotional absence of a person but let us affirm the shared idea that if I am not in the same geographical area as you I am absent. To be present, therefore, is, in some way, to share the same geographical location. This is a traditional understanding of the term. The problem arises when we try to experience ‘presence’ through digital media. Can this experience ever be achieved if people are separated by geographical locations?

In MediaLit (part II) we explored the idea that, through prayer we can become a community which is not defined by shared geographical space. This issue is compromised if we extend the same definitions into the sacramental act. My theological assumptions come into play here so I will state them clearly. I believe in the presence of Christ, particularly during the sacramental act. This presence is based on both a temporal aspect (i.e. He shares the time in which we exist) and spatial (i.e. He shares the space in which we exist.) Having said that, however, I begin to question what I mean by that. When we claim ‘His Spirit is with us.’ in the liturgy what are we proclaiming? That His Spirit exists in the same spatial reality as us? The truth of the incarnation ‘complexifies’ this by suggesting that God does not compete in space with us…

The Sacraments are both communal and reality changing. Reality is measured both in time and space. In order to change reality it must change both of these aspects. Christ must be present both in time and in space. This can still be affirmed within the context of the solo Eucharist. The communal aspect of the sacrament is important here. We are brought together, through the Eucharist, into the Body of Christ. What does this mean? Maybe I could be bold in suggesting that, He is present because we are present. I mean this in its widest possible way! Your physical presence changes the reality of the whole community and, likewise, the presence of the community changes your reality. Christ is spatial present through the Holy Spirit in the community, gathered in the same time and space (reality).

If we take out the spatial aspect of the Eucharist do we remove, in some way, the ability of reality to be fully changed ?

The second point I want to reflect on is the role that affirmation of self plays within the sacraments. I have begun to write a chapter on the need in community to affirm self-expressions by adopting them into communal-expressions (i.e. the expression of who/what the community is.) Our culture has reduced self-expression down to whatever you think or feel is truly authentic to you. This is impossible,

If your life is centred on yourself, on your own desires and ambitions, then asserting those desires and ambitions is the way you try to be true to yourself. So self-assertion becomes the only way of self expression. If you simply assert your own desires, you may have the illusion of being true to yourself. But in fact all your efforts to make yourself more real and more yourself have the opposite effect: they create a more and more false self. (Christopher Jamison, Finding Sanctuary)

Community is necessary in self-expression. This is, like a lot of aspects of community, both a potential blessing and a potential abuse.

Sacraments are communal events because any self-expression of faith needs to be affirmed by a community of others. This is highlighted in Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow’s latest book ‘A Grand Design’. where they suggest particles only have definition if they are observed where as the unobserved past is full of possibilities. It is the observation of reality that gives it definition. This has huge implications to the sacramental changes in reality.

I am suddenly aware of the hugeness of this issue. I don’t envy Dr. Pete Phillips as he discusses this at Methodist Conference later next week. I wonder if anyone is discussing it in the Anglican church?

MediaLit (part II)

Prayer.

As I prepared the Morning Prayer for yesterday’s MediaLit Conference I immediately decided to use the Northumbria Community’s liturgy. I was struck by the dilemma I faced; do I use the readings and meditations set down for the Community or do I choose ones that would lead people to reflect on our unique setting of the Conference? I thought about what readings would be appropriate and then it struck me. The monastic life is a reflection on social media, connectedness, communication and shared ethereal life which is not based on geographic location.
I chose to use the readings of the community and asked the gathered group, in the geographical location of that chapel, to hold in their minds that there are people across the country sitting in different places sharing our prayers and engaging with the same Scripture. This community (local) was being connected to a community (wider) through the means of a ‘media’; prayer.

What a lot of questions are rushing into my mind as I write that! Is it prayer or shared life, shared intentions, shared focus? ‘Shared’… Community is about gathering around that which is common to those people; the shared. Is this inclusive or exclusive? Probably both!

The internet and all forms of social media and broadcast media are open shared space. Anyone can access it (if they have the portal and desire to) it becomes impossible to police and to articulate the commonality. Can the internet hold a common principle? Is the internet community if there is not a commonality apart from the inhabitation of the same space?

But before we continue down this argument to end on the great proclamation that the internet is not ‘community’ let’s ask the question; Does shared prayers mean ‘shared’? or to put it another way; Can prayers ever be shared?

The Northumbria Community is a disparate community joined together by the Rule of life and the liturgical rhythm of prayer. The Rule of life consists of principles not prescriptive but more like a lens through which can guide you to ethical and relational decisions. The nature of the Rule, based around questions, allows for multiplicity of thought and articulation but the commitment to shared approaches and intention.

I wonder if we could discover something of the same within the internet.

The Early Church was made up of many expressions of faith connected by many things; apostles’ teachings, written communications through communication routes and a shared intention and approach to life. What is our ‘teaching’? How do we use communication routes to connect? and do we have shared intention and approach? And, I guess the caveat question is, do we need any of these?

We finished that same day with a prayer activity where we linked our prayers together visually with the use of wool. One person would say a prayer and throw the ball of wool to another. This created a web of the wool. Again the questions come; did I share all the prayers? Was that the point? What do we mean when we talk about being connected in prayer?

After all this I can be assured that the same problems surrounded the monastic life and the Early Church that face us now in how we connect whilst not sharing geographical location.

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!

Deadly Theatre Deadly Worship?

I’m aware I haven’t written about theatre for a long time so I want to unpick some thoughts I’m currently wrestling with as I continue the long process of writing the book ‘God of the Gods’.

My placement this year has been focused on being in a ‘creative’ community and seeing what one might look like. (You can follow the placement through the ‘Theatre Church’ stream by searching this site.) My reflections have concentrated on the capitalist mentality that flows through both the process of theatre and our understanding of Christian community. I have written extensively on this theory but thought I might share aspects of it as it relates to thoughts on theatre from the man himself, Peter Brook.

The act of creating a piece of theatre should be a journey of discovery for all involved. The current economic climate, however, forces the focus away from the search for discovery to a mechanical, predictable process aimed at achieving the highest income for the lowest cost.

A producer, who holds the finances, in order to increase that potential investment, funds a startup productions in the hope of building both a portfolio, artistic clout and financial capital to further that aim. In order to gain the most income they need to produce a sellable product, something popular and so they invite ‘creative’ directors and/or writers to invent a concept or write a script that will meet those criteria. These ‘creatives’ are therefore conditioned to develop concepts or write scripts to pitch to a producer who decides whether it will make a return on their investment. Theatre is, therefore, often driven by the marketability of the product rather than the necessity of the expression itself. The creative act is done by a solo agent and is completed before the pitch is made in order that a clear ‘vision’ is communicated to the financier. The process to construct the product must be planned carefully in order that it is the most successful (success being both how well it embodies the original concept and the amount of people who consume it.) Auditions are held to get the right people for the right job/role. Actors are tested and interviewed to see who has the right skills to undertake the role in the shortest period of time. Rehearsals are characteristically one sided. Directors ensure that the actors are doing what needs to be done to create the product as the director/writer see it. The actors ask for clarification and performing the role as prescribed and not participating in a journey of discovery; they’re cogs in a machine.

Peter Brook notes,

…a theatre where a play for economic reasons rehearses for no more than three weeks is crippled at the outset. Time is not the be-all and end-all; it is not impossible to get an astonishing result in three weeks…But this is rare… No experimenting can take place, and no real artistic risks are possible. (Peter Brook, The Empty Space)

‘Deadly Theatre’, as Brook calls it, is one that lacks life. This, he suggests, is not as easily discerned as you might expect. For something dead can be dressed up to look alive like the lifeless puppet manipulated to imitate life. Can our Churches experiment? Can they, what theatre practitioners call, ‘play’? Can they take real ‘artistic’ risk? I’d argue ‘no’. If every Sunday, or what ever day the community worships, is a ‘performance’ to lure in seekers then there is no space for risk. If something ‘fails’ then it will impact potential clients. If we can begin to call the seeker-friendly service a performance then our ‘rehearsal time’ is one week! Brook continues,

The artistic consequences are severe. Broadway is not a jungle, it is a machine into which a great many parts snugly interlock. Yet each of these parts is brutalized; it has been deformed to fit and function smoothly… In such conditions there is rarely the quiet and security in which anyone may dare expose himself. I mean the true un spectacular intimacy that long work and true confidence in other people brings about – in Broadway, a crude gesture of self-exposure is easy to come by, but this has nothing to do with the subtle, sensitive interrelation between people confidently working together. (Peter Brook, The Empty Space)

This kind of theatre is like a disease spreading through our culture. The big West-End musicals are all veneer with no substance of necessary expressions of human beings. Audiences are fooled into thinking that the more jolly, colorful and expensive the design the more ‘theatrical’ it is. No one questions this shallow performance style which has seeped into classic works such as Shakespeare making words that have so much potential life become boring. We have all become accustomed to it and so no longer crave the pure, life giving theatrical art.

In churches, regular congregations have become accustomed to the lifeless worship that is dressed up to imitate life. These imitations take on may forms depending on a particular tradition. The pentecostal inspired charismatic services need only to increase the volume and emphasize the rhythm to bring on their ‘spiritual’ highs. Watchman Nee says,

We have heard people say that…the moment they hear the sound of the organ and the voice of singing their spirits are immediately released to God’s presence. Indeed, such a thing does happen. But are they really being brought to the presence of God? Can people’s spirits be released and drawn closer to God by a little attraction such as this? Is this God’s way? (Watchman Nee, The Latent Power of the Soul)

What are we aiming for in community? In Christian community I’d suggest that we are aiming to share the fruit of the Spirit in the character of Christ to be reconciled to God and one another. In our worship, therefore, we need to be praying and living in the power of the Spirit. That Spirit will then go out from us to the others and unite us all together and bring us resurrection life; life that will not end. In theatre community I’d suggest the aim is similar. We are looking for a life that inspires each person to express themselves in a communal expression. Our self expressions can be affirmed as holding ‘truth’ by inspiring something within the whole community. Thus, that which is life to the individual participant is shared and encourages the other to experience life themselves. How do we discern whether a piece of theatre or an act of worship has ‘life-giving life’? Watchman Nee distinguishes between the life of the soul and the life-giving life of the Spirit,

“The first man Adam became a living soul; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit.” (1 Cor 15:45)… The soul is alive. It has its life, therefore it enables man to do all sorts of things…The spirit, however, is able to give life to others and cause them to live… “It is the spirit,” says the Lord, ‘that giveth life; the flesh profiteth nothing” (John 6:63) (Watchman Nee, The Latent Power of the Soul)

Here it is important to state, one can perform a piece of theatre with life but it stops at self expression if it does not hold life-giving life or that which brings life to the observer/ the rest of the community. We are not searching for self expression but self expression within communal expression.

Christian community should pay attention to Brook’s warnings to theatre. We must discern carefully whether our self expressions don’t stop at the self but give life to others. We must be careful that our worship is not resuscitating our dead bodies for a moment but rather giving resurrected life. We can achieve this, I’m beginning to believe, by ‘playing’ constantly, feeling comfortable with others to experiment and to reject crude self expressions and aim for the self expression within communal expression that marks life-giving life to all. Feeling comfortable with others can only be achieved if we create space for vulnerability and commitment to community as a verb and not as a noun.

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 VIII a)

So the start of term is well under way up here in Durham; Freshers fill our streets wearing togas, academic gowns and other varieties of fancy dress, songs identifying them with their college ring in the air and the traditional rivalries are back! In our quiet, more ‘mature’ part of the university system our college, not the typical undergraduate college, has begun lectures and we returning students begin to build a new community from the shattered remains of the previous year. This process is fun, exciting, full of potential but exhausting for an introvert like me. Meeting so many new people and always judging ‘how much do I commit to this relationship?’As I watch from a relative distance this new community forming, with its intricate dynamics and power plays (some of them involve me I have to admit) I wonder what makes a community.

As I step ever closer to the first utterance in public of the seed of an idea that is my placement, I have begun to feel ‘pre-launch jitters’. The two questions I have for myself are: ‘How do I invite people to something I don’t know?’ and ‘how does this community organically grow if I have created a forced introduction?’

Let’s start with the first question. Communicating the vision is an important part of the establishing of any community but how clear is any vision if you don’t know the people who will form your community? We can have hypothetical people with hypothetical needs and create something for them in our imaginations thus constructing a vision for the trajectory but it’s based on hypotheticals. I’m left with the same question that I have played through in my mind for some months. I sought the advice of two friends and advisors. One of them suggested that the invitation should be honest and intriguing “Come along on Monday nights to explore, play and see what happens!” … interesting concept. Creative people will love the space for creativity and it’s certainly different from the usual “I’m doing such and such a play and I need you to take on the role of so and so with these lines.” It also doesn’t limit the possibilities. It also helps me to remain honest about where I’m coming from; I’m a trainee vicar whose only aim is to meet some people passionate about drama and to see what happens. My other friend/advisor suggested a slightly more prescriptive approach but one that equally has benefits. “I have a process of theatre theory that I believe in and would like to share it with whoever wants to hear it.” Another interesting approach. What I like about this approach is it narrows the criteria but not too much that it will be alienating.

This first question forces me to face an issue that needs to be addressed; what is my aim? The original vision was deliberately vague to take into consideration the complete unknown. Now, however, I’m at the stage where I have processed a lot of information, I’ve reflected on where I feel passionately called to and what I feel God wants to do. I have arrived at a place where the things around me are coming into focus, instead of looking far off into the horizon I’m seeing things close up. I have been able to arrive at this place by way of negation. I don’t want my Monday night workshops to be busy, I want the group to be small so I can form relationships with people. I don’t want Monday nights to be director led, I want there to be an ensemble feel which I am a part of. I don’t want Monday nights to be planned, structured and full of material, I want to be led by the spirit responding to the needs of the group. What I have concluded is I’d like to gather a group of people who are committed to exploring the nature of theatre and how they as an individual can, through this exploration, discover what it means to be human.

This sounds like a good mission statement. There are some issues in it which need to be worked out, i.e. what does commitment look like and how realistic is this within an artistic, student community. The interesting thing, however, is that there’s no mention or prescription of spirituality and or religion allowing people the freedom to engage in whatever they want. This leads me to Acts 17 where Paul goes to Athens and preaches to the philosophers there about ‘the unknown God’. This passage as served as a basis of most of my theological reflection on my placement and it struck me that Paul never mentions Christ and yet people come to believe in Him. The powerful thing about this is that I don’t have to force Christ into the room because he is there already. As we discover what it means to be human we discover more about Christ…discuss!

As the new community in college is being shaped I am conscious of the people who I welcomed last year as they looked around the college discerning whether to come here or not. I remember talking about ‘this community’ but now that they have entered into ‘this community’ it has changed, people have left and new, unknown people have arrived. I was inviting people into a community that no longer exists and I couldn’t guarantee what ‘that community’ would look like. At the time, however, I had an idea of what a community in this place with these aims would look like. It turns out to be different but I hope the central idea and concept still remains. To invite someone to something that you don’t know is impossible because the truth is if you’re inviting them to it its because you have a vague understanding of what it could be and that must be worth an invitation!

So I guess I do know what this placement looks like, in theory. I must press forward with this but be alert to the fact that it may not, indeed it probably won’t, look anything like that! Should the invitation be open to all or should I be specific? I guess that leads me into my second question…

Join me tomorrow as I reflect on ‘how does a community organically grow if it has begun by a forced introduction?’

London Calling (part VIII)

As I got home from my long placement in London I was relieved and surprised. Most of my reflections from my placement, on a personal level, revolved around the concept of home and what it means and the impact it has on ministry (see ‘London Calling (part V)‘ post). Having said all that about ‘home’ being a relationship or a state of mind where you feel safe to be vulnerable where you are known and allowed ‘to be’, I found myself associating home with a geographical location; I found myself saying “I just need to get home.” (meaning I need to go to a building in a place.) When I got there I was surprised that a) my home didn’t feel right or relaxing but b) I felt at home. My wife had been with me for five days and still I felt at sea but the moment I saw Durham Cathedral towering into the sky I was restful. My home was different but I still was restful.

As an introvert I put an emphasis on my place, my quiet time, my study! When I got there it had been taken over by my wife, who had been living in our house without me for 25 days. I didn’t feel bitter or shocked by the fact that she needed to go into this room and use the computer and the printer or that she needed to use it as space to put things out of the way. (I did feel upset that this space, this sanctuary had been defiled by alien and idolatorous objects like Body Shop products!) (That’s a joke!) I was remarkably calm about it because I felt close to people who had seen and been a part of a massive shift in my vocational journey and I was now surrounded, even though I hadn’t seen or spoken to them, by people who knew me, as I am now not how I was. I didn’t need to be in a space, talking with them, but I knew they were close and it reminded me of what I was doing.

Then it struck me. My big issue and conflict with my placement was not that what this community were doing was bad or wrong, necessarily, but that I had moved on and I hadn’t realised it. It had been like looking in a mirror after fifty years and not recognising yourself.

All my difficulties, my thoughts and reflections clashing with the people around me, my concept and passions being questioned, My ideas not fitting in with the ministry of the church, all it came down to was this church was what I had known and worked in but I had been formed and shaped for different things.

During my time down in London I had visited my ‘sending’ church, a place where I had served for a year, full-time. When I got there I found myself frustrated and restricted, ‘home’ had changed, or rather I had changed. The person I was is no longer and I had been shaped into something else. When did this change happen? I do not know but all I know is that it has happened.

C.S. Lewis tells the parable of two men travelling over the border from France to Belgium. One is awake at the crossing and could tell people the exact time of the change from France to Belgium, how he felt and how it happened. The other man is asleep and so doesn’t know those details, the only thing he is certain about is that he is now in Belgium. This parable describes the act of conversion but is useful for this scenerio as well… I am now in Belgium! (this analogy must stop here because I’ve been to Belgium and it’s not the same feeling being in Belgium as being in this new mindset!)

So what has changed?

The churches I had been a part of in the past were in a model of Church that was still set in a Christendom mindset. “What is Christendom?” I hear you ask. Well I had a vague understanding of this concept but I felt I needed to go and do some reading to help me process the frustration, difficulties of the placement in London and was recommended a book by Stuart Murray, ‘Post-Christendom’.

Before I go any further I’d like to give a brief review of the book and talk about the concepts it raises. If you’re anything like my wife and think that philosophical and theological debate is a little dull and you read these blogs for the story and personal touches then you may want to skip this bit!

‘Post Christendom’ is really insightful, well researched and has, on the whole, a balanced and fair assessment of the history of the Established Church, finding positives as well as negatives of the growth and changes of the Church in Europe (mainly) over the centuries. One problem I think I have with it is its Anabaptist bias. Anabaptists are a denomination of church that grew out of the Reformation and were, apparently, modelling post-Christendom structures and principles of church. This is the weakness of the book but I’m unsure how great this Anabaptist model of church was without further research.

The basic idea of Christendom, being put forward by Murray, is it is a geopolitical structure established, in part, by Constantine in the 4th century and was built around the Roman Empire and was translated for the Latin culture across Europe into the medieval period. Christendom was the development of a Jewish sect into, what we now know as, the established church of Christ. Christendom is the developed hybrid of state politics and institutional religion. There is a whole biblical interpretation that has grown up as ‘orthodox’ in this system along with an established way of doing church and mission. Murray goes through these and charts the development of ideas such as infant baptism becoming the normal practise, compared with the Early Churches favoured lengthy induction programme for those choosing faith.

Many theologians are now looking at the shift in Europe and the UK from Christendom to an unknown era, currently called ‘post Christendom’. Post Christendom is uncharted territory but needs careful consideration and thought as to how we structure church, engage in mission and interpret scripture. There are many thoughts on how this could be done but the main direction this thinking is taking is towards smaller communities that has a voluntary membership and induction, that prefers dialectic preaching which focuses on exploration of faith. When it comes to mission, so Murray suggests, this ‘post Christendom’ model of church will have a greater emphasis on priesthood of all believers to the extent that it is natural for all members to engage in mission because there will be little distinction between clergy and laity. leaders will be chosen from within the community based on spiritual maturity rather than academic and intellectual prowess.

Those of you who skipped that last bit you can start reading again!

I want to stress that the Christendom model of church (one that is leader led, clergy focussed, monologue based sermons, front led services, etc.) has its strengths. Christendom models of church emphasise a great call for networking, sharing resources and knowledge. The size and stretch of the ‘established/inherited’ church means that a faster impact can be made on our culture and those congregations that struggle financially are supported by others. Christendom is great at attracting those in the world who appreciate the heritage of England and the UK; the truth is Christendom is in this countries DNA whether we like it or not and so it’s important to acknowledge that and to maintain the strengths and positives of that heritage.

My personal issues with my placement church are that I don’t get excited nor do I see myself serving in this model of church. Up front leaders speaking monologue style at their congregation is too much like performance in a theatre. It gets complicated when trying to say that preachers aren’t ‘performing’ a sermon but sharing ideas and reflections on the world and the Word. From my experience leaders in this model of church sometimes pile a lot of pressure on themselves to drive the mission and vision of the church where I see a greater call for the community to drive things and the leader to be like the divine director (see ‘Divine Director (part I and II)‘ posts)

In the final days of my placement I was drawn to look at my journal which i have had since the start of my exploration of vocational ministry. I was struck by two things;

1) Words and pictures given to me years ago before I came to college clearly see me being ‘a part of a new movement’, a call to plant and grow communities and a sense of freshness to my ministry.

and 2) Ezekiel 3 (which has been a passage that has always struck me as important for my personal ministry) has a call to prophetic struggles from a prophet on the inside. It marks out the role of the prophet to call back to the margins those who are secure in the centre.

There’s a lot more reflections needed on my ministry but this new avenue of exploration has released me from a confusion that has clouded my thoughts throughout the placement and afterwards. As I head towards the beginning of my term time placement, I spend less time concerned with what this community will look like but whether I am a humble, sacrificial leader who is able to focus on Jesus as the perfecter of my faith. My discipleship is essential to my leadership.