So What?

Working with Your Hands

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I am reading The case for working with your hands: or why office work is bad for us and fixing things feels good by Matthew Crawford.  I'll possibly review it later but here's a passage, from page 91:

Countless times since that day, a more experienced mechanic has pointed out to me something that was right in front of my face, but which I lacked the knowledge to see.  It is an uncanny experience; the raw sensual data reaching my eye before and after are the same, but without the pertinent framework of meaning, the features in question are invisible.  Once they have been pointed out, it seems impossible that I should not have seen them before.

This is a common observation and many people will recognise it.  But it is also something we don't necessarily acknowledge as a matter of course. 

To put it negatively we often fail to pay attention and it is being attentive that is at the core not only of working with our hands but also of spirituality.  Indeed, spirituality is essentially paying attention.  You can have something pointed out to you but someone must have paid attention at some point in order to be able to point it out.  Paying attention is hard work, often the experience of being stuck leads to someone paying attention to some detail after hours of frustration.

Paying attention is at the core of prayer.  When we pray, it is not God who is revealed to us but reality through God.  I think it was Anthony de Mello who said something like, asking God to reveal himself is like asking a knife to cut itself.

Prayer is about encountering reality, as it is, independent of our plans and strategies.  It is not hectoring God about what we need in order to do our thing, but simply being aware of what is there and needing our attention.  Indeed the god who needs to be hectored is no god, just a fantasy.  God is never revealed but always reveals.

In my other blog, Exploring Ecumenism, I have frequently visited the idea of conversation and its power to transform.  The mistake we make in too many religious debates, is to expect the world to be final and perfect.  What we find is a world not of unchanging perfect entities but of many things in relationships, in conversation, imperfect, sometimes free, sometimes imprisoned, extremely complex and always stumbling across new things.  This is what makes the universe the place where we encounter life, because all is in relationship with God.

We are conscious beings and it is through prayer our consciousness becomes disciplined enough to apprehend the genuinely new amongst the pointless frustrations of our fantasies.

Sheffield Street Art

I went to a very small book launch last night.  Sheffield Street Art is a set of images by Hedley Bishop and Jim Lambert.  I believe it is possible to purchase it on Ebay but I can't find it.  I suggest if you would like to purchase it (£5), you follow the link and leave a comment.

I am impressed by the amount of street art that's around us in Sheffield.  Perhaps the best known street artist in Sheffield is Kid Acne (bottom left above), who has an exhibition currently at the Millenium Galleries.  (On until 23 October upon which date this link will presumably die.) 

My favourite artist is Phlegm (top left above) who has a fantastic piece of work not far from where I live at Riverside.  This can be found on a website called Sheffield Street Art, which just to confuse everyone has nothing to do with the book and although it features some of the same artists covers mostly different works.

The book was expensive to produce and so won't make much money.  The authors are hoping to use the proceeds for a future 'Pictures of Sheffield Old and New' publication and they hope the proceeds from that will be substantial enough to go to the Alzheimers Society.

Homocide: A Year on the Killing Streets

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I've just finished reading Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets by David Simon, one of the script writers for the television series, The Wire.  This book is the result of a year's placement he had with Baltimore's homicide police in 1988.

I found this passage, which struck me as apt for its time and for the present day.  It comes towards the end of the book (page 635) where Simon is writing about his time on placement in retrospect.  He writes of the changes he's seen in the Baltimore police since 1988:

I came to realise that there was something emblematic here: that in postmodern America, whatever institution you serve or are served by - a police department or a newspaper, a political party or aa church, Enron or Worldcom - you will eventually be betrayed.

It seemed very Greek the more I thought about it.  The stuff of Aeschylus and Sophocles, except the Gods were not Olympian but corporate and institutional.  In every sense, ours seems a world in which individual human beings - be they trained detectives or knowledgeable reporters, hardened corner boys or third-generation longshoremen or smuggled eastern European sex workers - are destined to matter less and less.

Simon wrote these words in 2006 and I think they reflect exactly the situation we find ourselves in today.  We have seen it in the financial crisis, MPs' expenses, News International and the various scandals that have rocked the police in London.  And we've seen it in the riots and the response of decent people to the riots, who have lost any sense of the gains made by previous generations whereby bullets are not fired at crowds, whatever they are doing (except in N Ireland during the Troubles).

It is partly a cult of the young.  It seems inconceivable experience might count for anything.  Short term funding schemes mean communities cannot build a resource of people who know the area and its history.  They are recruited and after 3 years have to move on.  As there is no career structures, the best move onto other things so few garner experience over a lifetime's career.  This is reflected in all walks of life; we are told it is foolish to assume you are in a job for life.  Who can say this is not true?

The Tao of Who

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I've named this post after the title of a book; The Tao of Pooh was an interpretation of Taoist spirituality through A A Milne's 'Winnie the Pooh'.  It would be an exaggeration to say this book is an inspiration for this series of posts (I haven't read it!) but it makes for an eye catching title.

I'm planning a series of posts about Dr Who.  The plan is to review some of the episodes of the new Who era and reflect on some  emerging themes.  I may from time to time dip into the classic series too but we shall see how it goes.

These posts will not be reviews; their purpose is threefold and I will explain them further in the next three posts.

I watched Dr Who religiously from the very beginning in 1963, although I slowed down  during the late Pertwee era, watching fewer episodes and stopping entirely at the end of the Tom Baker era.  In recent years I've seen a few of the episodes I missed and so I have a fairly good idea of what has happened during the history of the the programme.

William Hartnell is still 'my Doctor' and I tend to compare all the others to him, or him as I remember him.  The point is the Doctor is a hero and at that, a British hero.  He bears comparison with Robin Hood or King Arthur.  So he tells us something about ourselves as a nation, how we understand our role in the world and what we value.  The comparison is sometimes made with Star Trek.  In the Star Trek universe everything is clean, tidy and disciplined.  The muddle and confusion with the Doctor has been there from the beginning.

From the very beginning the programme has been about science but not science as we know it.  It is usually optimistic about science as a means to solve problems.

Finally, I want to use this series as a means to reflect on public spirituality.  It seems our values and our science say something important about our relationship with God.

Ways of Seeing

Cover of Awareness

This is from my handout for the Study Year in October.  For various reasons, we didn't actually meet to study but I circulated this short reading list.

In my last handout I wrote:  “Whilst much of the information and ideas might seem technical, this section of the course leads naturally into prayer and contemplation.  It is profoundly about how we perceive the world.  The Christian faith does not take us out of the world but leads us into deeper commitment.  As our faith deepens we learn to see more and how to respond to what we see.”

The following are books I have found helpful in understanding perception and of observing reality.  Some take a  spiritual approach, whilst others are more philosophical or theological.  Let me know if you read any of these books so that I can find time later in the course to discuss some of the issues.

This first book, I would identify as essential reading:

Awareness by Anthony de Mello, on Amazon £6.28 new and a lot less second hand.

De Mello was a Jesuit Priest who lived in India and studied other religions.  He is well known for his collections of short stories, eg The Song of the Bird and The Prayer of the Frog.  This book comprises notes from his retreats.  He takes a psychological approach to spiritual direction and you will find from the start that he takes a different approach to most other spiritual writers.  He shows how easy it is for us to deceive ourselves through our dependency on the things we cling to in order to keep ourselves happy.

The following are all helpful:

Finding Sanctuary: Monastic Steps for Everyday Life by Christopher Jamison.  This book is written for secular people, based on Benedictine spirituality.  Father Jamison is the Abbot of Worth Abbey and he wrote this book as a response to the interest in the BBC TV programme ‘The Monastery’.

The Human Touch: Our Part in the Creation of a Universe by Michael Frayn.  This is a philosophical book about the nature of reality and how it is based upon the way we perceive it.

Does It Matter?: The Unsustainable World of the Materialists by Graham Dunstan Martin.  An exploration of the nature of consciousness. 

Naming the Powers: Language of Power in the New Testament (The Powers : Volume One); Unmasking the Powers: The Invisible Forces That Determine Human Existence; Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination by Walter Wink.  These three volumes are included here because they develop a theme found in the other books about how our illusions ensnare us.  These books are a more sustained theological approach to perception.

Related articles

• Study Year Redux (chrississons.typepad.co.uk)

What have they done with Jesus?

What have they done with Jesus? Beyond Strange Theories and Bad History - why we can trust the Bible is a book by Ben Witherington III.  I've just finished reading it; it is worth a look if you are interested in the authority of the New Testament.

This book could have been written from a conservative perspective, as its aim is to defend the authenticity of scripture.  Witherington argues those closest to Jesus (his mother, his brothers, Peter, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, the beloved disciple and Paul), knew him well and the New Testament can be traced to their witness. They are the texts written closest to Jesus' time and so our most reliable sources.  Witherington uses modern critical approaches and I think he makes a persuasive case.  

Certainly, I have grown impatient with much modern critical work on Scripture, not because I disagree with it particularly bu it seems too often to start with presuppositions that themselves need examination.  

So, Witherington argues there are no grounds for the distinction between the Jesus of History and Christ of Faith, many claim to find in the New Testament.  These early witnesses experienced both.  They saw no distinction between them.  Jesus was both a man they had known and the Son of God.

This of course does not apply to Paul, who never knew Jesus the man.  But Witherington shows there is no significant difference between Paul and the others.  Where there were differences they were over incidental matters, such as circumcision.  James was not one of those who insisted on the Gentiles adhering fully to the Torah and agreed with Paul, the relatively mild injunctions to have nothing to do with pagan temples.

(I suspect these injunctions to keep away from pagan temples are an unfortunate source of Christian homophobia.  What seem to be condemnations of homosexuality are actually condemnations of pagan religion.)

One last thing, Witherington presents a fascinating theory as to the identity of the beloved disciple.  I've no idea whether he is right but it is an interesting proposal and there seems to be substantial evidence in its favour.

On Religious Authority

Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, reviewed Philip Pullman's new book, The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ  in The Guardian Review, 3 April 2010.  I have mentioned this new book before  but still not read it!  Here are a couple of quotes from the review:

Pullman's Jesus is scathing about "smartarse priests" who talk about God's absence really being his presence.  Well, yes: Christians use this kind of language.  But not to let themselves off lightly; they're arguing that you only get anywhere near the truth when all the easy things to say about God are dismantled - so that your image of God is no longer just a big projection of your self-centred wish-fulfillment fantasies.

They (Francis of Assisi, Bonhoeffer, Romero) have seen through the surface froth of religion and heard the voice Pullman himself obviously finds so compelling.  That should make us pause before deciding that the New Testament is quite as successful in sanitising an uncomfortable history through religiously convenient truth as Pullman implies.  It is aware of its own temptations.  It trains its readers in self-questioning.

The late Ed Kessler, lecturing about parables at the Urban Theology Unit , captured the point of the parable of the Wheat and the Tares in unforgettable fashion.  He formed his fingers into a gun and pointed at his own temple.  He said, 'I'm going to shoot the tares.'

You remember the story of the landowner, who finds tares are growing with his wheat?  His servants ask whether they should pull up the tares.  As any fool knows, this would pull up the wheat too. 

It seems, as I read atheist critiques of Christianity, they are enthusiastic tare removers.  I agree with 99% of what they're saying and yet ... and yet I'm always left with the feeling they have missed the point.

Of course we should question what religious people say.  The world is full of people who want power and try to get it through claiming a hotline to God.  But if you consistently deny the existence of all gods (as atheists do and the first Christians did), what are you left with?

Atheists claim nothing.  They need to take a long hard look at what they mean by nothing.  I suspect nothing is their god.

And what do Christians who reject all gods find?  How do you speak of something where if you speak of it, you misrepresent it?  For it to be real, we have to deny the reality of the nothing we find ...

Alice in Wonderland?

I saw Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland last week.  If I was doling out stars, this would receive one out of five, for the special effects.  Strictly speaking, I should deduct that star because the Jabberwock does not wear a waistcoat but I'm feeling generous (relatively speaking).

Where to start?  If you haven't seen it, you need to understand this film is not based on Lewis Carroll's books.  A few characters and ideas are riffed upon by ... who exactly?  I see in this film, the dead hand of a team of script writers with all eyes fixed upon audience expectations.

I re-read the Alice books a few years ago and what struck me about them, something I didn't notice as a child, is how bad tempered all the characters are.  Including Alice, there is not one sympathetic character; both books are whirlwinds of intemperance.  Carroll's characters are also funny and memorable.  They are probably how adults seem to children.  All except Alice, who is the intemperate child trying to make sense of the misperceptions of the adults around her.

All this is entirely absent from the film, which takes the same old, same old walk through sentimentality on the one hand and violence on the other.  Carroll's characters are either not violent or their violence is comical.  Whatever we think of the Queen of Hearts' 'Off with their heads', it feels as if she doesn't really mean it.  It is her ill temper speaking.

Burton's Alice is an adult and has stumbled upon a Manichean world, bearing a striking resemblance to Hollywood's finest insights into the human condition.  There are good characters and evil characters.  A few characters journey from one pole to the other but all in the timeless tradition of the American Imperialist worldview.

In Carroll's universe everyone is united in their bad temper.  In Burton's, there is no we, 'we' are divided into good (white of course) and bad (red like communists).  So, the script clunks along in a sub-C S Lewis kind of a way.  Alice gets her suit of armour and it feels like Hollywood's Narnia (this was not C S Lewis' best outing into popular culture, Aslan sounded like every American's dream of what God sounds like). 

So, Burton has taken out the humour (that waistcoat is important) and substituted violence.  Poor Alice would have been better off marrying the man lined up for her in the surrounding story, than spending five minutes in Underland (yes, that's its real name apparently - is this ground to demand my money back?).

I am at a loss to know why actors such as Mat Lucas and Stephen Fry took part it in.  Didn't they read the script?  Why did they lend their name to such tosh?  The actress who plays Alice at least gets to wear some decent costumes (one star for that) until we get to the suit of armour (lose the star).

Does it matter?  If you watch the film as an exercise in identifying America's imperial agenda, this film is worth watching.  But we have to say to the world's number one Christian nation, where have these ideas come from?  Even the most radical atheist in Europe can see this is propaganda.  It isn't wholesome entertainment for children.  It is patronising and radically misleading about the nature of good and evil.

Easter 47: John

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  (From: John 1:1 - 5, NRSV)

This is the passage with which I first started blogging  over a year ago.  I prefer this account of the creation to the Genesis version because it implies God is not alone.  (Actually, God has company in the Genesis account but that's another story.)  Logos, the Greek word translated here as Word can as easily be translated as conversation.  This makes sense because a word on its own is absurd; words imply conversation.  I continue to explore this theme in my other blog, Exploring Ecumenism .

In my other blog, I argue ecumenism, or perhaps it's better to use the Greek Oikoumene, is a conversation that aims to reconcile, not only the various Christian traditions, but the whole of creation to God.  This is the idea I have chosen to end this Lent sequence (which is by now an Easter sequence).  The thrilling idea is that we all have a role, as co-creators with God, in bringing this reconciliation into reality.  A good place to start is four recent posts about evolution and cosmology, starting here .

Passiontide 46: Luke

Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing.  He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on.  He replied, "Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound."  Then he became angry and refused to go in.  His father came out and began to plead with him.  But he answered his father, "Listen!  For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.  But when this son of yours comes back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!"  Then the father said to him, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.  But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours is dead and has come to life; and has been found."  (From: Luke 15:25 - 32, NRSV)

Luke is the master of parables, although we often struggle to interpret them.  This parable suffers as it is too often treated as a parable of two halves.  It is the first half that gets all the attention, which means when read in church this second half is omitted.  But it is not a parable of two halves; it is a single parable.  To redress the balance I omit the first half!

It's a lovely story, isn't it?  How the father (obviously God) forgives and welcomes the younger son.  Rubbish!  The older brother is the point of this story.  He raises a raft of issues around forgiveness; our inability to forgive, the impact on others when we do forgive.  We are left with the tension between father and son unresolved.  What conclusion are we being led towards?  How are we tempted to hold to the elder brother's viewpoint?