Conviction: Gospel, Political or otherwise

A general sentiment from last weeks CU mission seemed to be, when expressed in prayers at least, that conviction is good. More specifically it was the "conviction of sin" and the implicit follow-ons, repentance and salvation. And I have no problems with that, although I must express slight qualms about the phrase which I'm sure I heard, but may have created - the Gospel of Conviction.

Whether I've made it up or not, it's a rather worrying phrase - a linking of "the good news" with guilt. Guilt can be a pretty poor motivator - but that's for another post...

As I sit and ponder here it strikes me that conviction can be addressed in several ways. We have the phrase about having the courage of our convictions, something which I was wresting with a little this week. If I truly believe that change for the parish lies in the engagement with the majority population group who have very little to do with the church then I need to respond, and to encourage the congregations to respond too. The difficulty of course is that the changes of practice, and maybe more importantly changes in attitude, which might be required would certainly lead us out of our "comfort zone" and further into a "risky adventure" of faith.

It takes a serious degree of courage to step out from the familiar and the expected. It doesn't matter whether it's personal or institutional, it still means being open to dramatic change.

One illustration of this I discovered browsing the BBC news website earlier this week about the plans of the One Laptop Per Child initiative. It would appear that this laudable goal is being stifled, perhaps inevitably, by politics.

"You've got to be big, you've got to be bold. And what has happened is that there has been an effort to say 'don't take any risks - just do something small, something incremental'."

"It feels safe but by definition what you are ensuring is that nothing happens."

The words of Professor Bender might well apply to any number of issues, not least the Church of England, at both a national as well as a parochial level. It partly explains why I sometimes feel that the only way ahead for the Church of England is for it to die. As the example of the Cross shows, for Resurrection there has a to first be a death - with all the pain and grief that comes as part of the package. Another risky question is to ask whether that death has to be a lingering one or should be speeded up by an act of mercy.

The Gospel reading on Sunday (Luke 23: 33-43) reminded us of Jesus words on the Cross to the thief who had the clarity of insight, maybe spurred by the impending inevitability of death, to recognise Jesus for who he was, so prompting him to ask "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus' promise of paradise didn't remove the thief from his cross. It didn't stop the suffering - but it did transform the context.

Any comforts we might take from our faith, that the victory is won, still take their place within the context of an ongoing struggle. The greater need for wisdom lies in knowing which parts of the struggle are relevant in the economy of the Kingdom, and which are actually a waste of resources. To prune the butterfly bush down to the stump each winter looks cruel and excessive, but without it it fails to grow properly. Even the act recorded in John 19: 31-33 of the soldiers breaking the legs of the crucified is an act of mercy. It's not an infliction of needless pain but a means of speeding a long-drawn out death.

If I truly am convinced (convicted) about the rightness of a fact or a course of action then that needs to be set in motion. Conviction of sin, or of the rectitude of a policy or statement, demands a response. It is not enough to say something, but to do something. The thief on the cross expressed it as a request. Overseas governments need to honour the promises they have made to the OLPC program.

To enable action there has to be a reason, an incentive, a "carrot". I have to not only be convinced that a radical change of course is necessary, but to have a clear vision of the benefits, enough to outweigh any personal or institutional resistance to such a change. That is my stumbling block.

Likewise, my worry about the "Gospel of Conviction" that can so easily be heard in Mission activity, is that too often it becomes closer to the declaration of guilt and judgement by a court, where the condemned has nothing appealing to look forward to, rather than acknowledging that for many people they are already weighed down by a conviction of guilt, real or imagined. The Gospel has to offer a means of transformation and escape. It has truly to be seen as Good News. And maybe for that we need to work rather harder at unpacking the value and relevance, in contemporary terms, of the salvation, the healing of the human-divine and human-human relationships, brought about by the life, death and resurrection of the Son of God, and rather les on the burden of sin.

A little intimidating...

I know that I'm often a little slow in writing the obligatory "Christmas Letter" but receiving 2 today, before Advent even begins, and from fellow clergy families, is a little intimidating!

I mean, it's nice to hear the news, but even so... :)

In the absence of a piece of theological reflection...

... which I've left on my USB flash drive in the Chaplaincy, here's a brief record (no pun intended) of my current listening.

For the first time in months I bought a new CD recently - or more specifically a double CD, Long Road Out Of Eden, by The Eagles. It's a slightly scary thought that I'm rather too young to appreciate much of the original material they did, before they all got fed up with each other, but I do have fond memories of their "Best of.." collection. So, having heard that, and a litle artsy piece on Radio 4 I went out of my way to buy the new one.

In some ways I was vaguely disappointed at first, since I'm not so hot on the "sorry girl it's over" sorts of songs which seem to dominate the first CD, but with further thought I rather like it. The wistfulness of tracks like "No more walks in the wood" and "I love to watch a woman dance" are rather good, especially the first, with hints of regret at the past that has gone (maybe something corporately felt by the band?) But if I don't like some of the "lovey" stuff, then I do appreciate the questioning and gentle world-weariness of "Business as Usual" and "Frail Grasp of the Big Picture" How could I fail to appreciate words like this?

"And we pray to our Lord, who we know is American.
He reigns from on high; he speaks to us through middlemen.
And he shepherds his flock
We sing out and praise his name.
He supports us in war; he presides over football games.
And the right will prevail; all our troubles shall be resolved.
We hold faith above all, unless there's money or sex involved."

Best of all, by a long way to my mind, is the title track and its questioning of American involvement in Iraq. Ten minutes of beautiful production and insightful lyrics. Listen to it and make you own mind up.

Is it the best thing since sliced bread? No. But it mixes easy melodic listening with biting insight, perfect guitar with a touch of faded hippydom and weighs in at a very reasonable price.

But it's fine to agree with the critics of the nation the world loves to hate... can we see the planks in our own eyes? Wwe too, are on the Long Road Out of Eden, and probably driving away...

A sad reflection?

No, I'm not particularly upset (although some might say I was a sad individual!) In fact I wonder if a reflection can have any emotions after all, since it is virtual. But that's not the point either.

I was just idling away the time reading something on the BBC web-site, to wit, some information trailing the new BBC series "The Blair Years" which starts tonight (2215 GMT). Information about how the former PMs faith influenced his politics.

What prompted my musings was the following quote:

The public might have been less willing to give him the triumph of three consecutive general election victories if they'd known the extent to which ethical values would overshadow pragmatism," Sir Menzies said.

Now, I'm very aware that I can be cynical. But I find it a very sad reflection on the state of our collective identity, and "health" as a nation, if Ming is right. Then again, the prevailing post-modern mantra that 'if it works for you then it's right' is surely, if nothing else, a triumph of pragmatism over conviction. A bit like those who pinch lead off church roofs in pursuit of fast money. Most of my congregation can't really get their heads around the phenomenon, so it must be a generational thing. I expect nothing less, they find it hard to conceive that anyone would do such a thing. Another away win for pragmatism...

A Good Day

I don't think I have ever received a phone call from the Police before. Not, you might think, very good news.

Now, there are very few things which are unadulterated good news. After all, even the Good News, involved death, grief and separation as a necessary part of the package. So, having more of the South Aisle awash on a rainy day cannot be construed as especially good.

But for the ladies and gentlemen of the Northamptonshire Constabulary (or whatever their "correct" term may be) to nab five individuals and their stolen van red-, or should I say, lead-handed, is most definitely good news!

So thank you to the eagle-eyed member of the community for your vigilance, and when I know who you are I will be turning on your doorstep to say that personally.

Well, I did pray half-seriously yesterday morning for some angles to be stationed on the roof, and some of my clergy colleagues joined in prayer later in the day too. Now all I need to pray for is a dry spell... or some more buckets.

Who? Me?

I've decided to de-anonymise myself. St. Z's will still be afforded a degree of protection, as will EMUT. Continuing bloggers already know me, and anyone who tries hard enough can get round the pseudonymity, so what's the point? The vast majority of my readers (who understand this strange twin beast of faith and church) don't find anything new, anyway.

Do they mean me?

Went to a very worthwhile "Bishops' day for Clergy" today - the EMUT one, not the Small University City one. I had a New Incumbents Induction thing last week (I may have commented on it) at which I expressed mild concern about appearing to be the youngest there. So today I was very politely asked my age by the DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands, I you must know)... which I did - after all it may be impolite to ask a lady her age, but it may also be impolite to refuse when asked!

Her response was one of near-delight. Something like "O good, we may have to have a talk..."

It turns out that I could help in their drive to scare-off, sorry, to recruit "young ordinands." I do not think of myself as "young" - but the diocese apparently do. "Anyone under 45."

Oh deary, deary me....

Lest we forget

Remembrance has been and gone again for another year - and this year was the first time I've conducted such events on my own and in a church. First there was the curacy and then there was the whole business of being building-less.

So here are some points as a sort of aide-memoire and reflection, which I hope I'll remember, and may be useful for any soon-to-be-first-time incumbents.

First though: the general principle. It will be presumed that you, as the vicar, know what you are doing. This is a double-edged sword. It reflects the community's trust in you, while at the same time making it potentially difficult to actually ask. Despite the fact that nearly all churches will claim to be the same everywhere is different, of course.

If you have a 10'o'clock service and the expectation of being at the War Memorial for 11am, the following may be of use. (Bearing in mind the perils involved with changing anything, which is a general clerical hazard in the first place!)

- do you really need all three readings? Could you get by with only two, especially bearing in mind that the sermon may well need to be truncated?

- unless your channels of communication are especially good (text messages from the choir, perhaps) don't rely on the Sunday School being able to hear the bell sounded during the consecration. In fact, do you need Sunday School that day?

- can you escape with shorter hymns (leaving aside some of the potential theological questions inherent in some of the words)?

Maybe the biggest question of all: Given the emotional resonances for many in the congregation and very real memories of friends, parents and loved ones' involvement and sacrifice in conflict (although these are generally declining as a simple function of ageing) how do you sensitively address the issue that Remembrance Sunday is not a Christian Commemoration per se? The Lectionary and Calendar make passing reference in allowing variation of the Collect, but the readings are part of the "Before Advent" series.

But maybe that's for another day.

Mixed Blessings

Isn't it strange how many ways and contexts there are in which the word blessing or blessed crops up? Maybe more often than not it can be a euphemism or a platitude. To a sneeze we reply "Bless you!" We use it to substitute for something like blasted or damned, and make the problem sound like it's welcome. I'm not quite sure of the reasoning, unless it's simple Bowdlerism. Possibly trying to sanctify something and bring it to the attention of the power of God. Maybe Jesus is the ultimate Blessed Nuisance - certainly in the eyes of the First Century Religious Establishment, and maybe even for ourselves and our own.

As a priest I am empowered to pronounce God's blessing. It isn't mine to give after all... I stand in loco Deorum. (I trust my Latin is up to scratch!) Which makes me wonder why we use oils blessed by the bishop (or should it be blessed through the agency of the bishop?) when a word uttered by the priest would do. I suspect it's a matter of ecclesiology and a recognition of the primacy of the bishop.

In the last couple of weeks I've had two very different offices of blessing to perform, both at relatively short notice and both slightly euphemistic in origin. One for and over a relationship in what is technically referred to as an Act of Dedication after a Civil Marriage - a most definitely desired relationship between two persons. And the other over an unwanted presence of relationship in the form of a house blessing - a request for an outpouring of God's cleansing power and the eviction of any other-worldly and negatively-orientated presence.

In both cases they were "firsts", if you don't count trying to bless my previous Vicarage - and even that was more often in the form of words closer to those allegedly used by Cromwell to dismiss the Rump Parliament: "Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!"

Interestingly enough my curacy prepared me for neither of these eventualities, despite proving of great general value.

However, I suppose I should depart from this virtual location - and head back to the more practised, but rather less-interesting, act of sermon preparation...

Well, things are beginning to hot up here in EMUT, with this week having my first external preaching slot, my first attempt at doing something a little more pro-active in the Chaplaincy, and that old mainstay of Anglican ministry - funerals - beginning to appear. Stir in Halloween and a Chaplaincy Guest Lecture and it's quite a potent mix.

St. Z's has a close link with the adjoining parish, which once upon a Victorian time was actually a daughter church, so in the great tradition of good neighbourliness when I was invited to preach there I jumped at the opportunity, and then fretted and struggled to produce something for All Souls - a celebration that I see as pastorally valuable but sometimes theologically dubious. An occasion for those who have lost a loved one (or any or, often, no apparent, faith) to seek solace and comfort in the bosom of the church they don't attend. Please excuse my slight cynicism as I betray my rather intolerant evangelical roots, but there's no point in denying it. Ultimately it all went rather well, a chance to act like a curate again, having a part, but not the lead role in the great drama of the liturgy. Several hours of fretting had produced two-thirds of a sermon, or to put it the other way, left one third inspiration required. And praise God he delivered and didn't let me down. I set great store on careful preparation, and know that I don't always reach the standard I set myself, but sometimes just "reading" the congregation can tell you so much, as can listening to the hymns chosen and the words used, especially if you've not been part of the process.

Chaplaincy can still only be described as mixed. The ministry of hospitality and encounter is rewarding, like the 2 dozen students who turned up for free tea in the foyer of the arts campus 5 minutes before I was going to wheel my trolley away. Good for community presence and feel-good factor, good for showing practical Christian love in action, but rather less, at least as yet, for meaningful engagement. Likewise, having, decided based on observation and a little discussion, to start up "Thursday Soulspace", providing an explicit chance for tea and chat followed by a simple opportunity for prayer together I sat alone in the Chaplaincy for a complete 2 hour period. It's easy to say that "it takes time" but rather harder to sit through it A bit like being "stood up" by the representative of a charismatic evangelical group of mixed repute busy trying to re-enter the Christian mainstream on Friday lunch time. The fact I was feeling distinctly unwell probably didn't help, but even so. (And to be charitable, they could have emailed an apology, but since the Wireless Access Point the Chaplaincy uses has gone down we wouldn't have received it!)

Halloween proved a delightful damp squib from the domestic viewpoint, although a house lakccng a sign and possessed of a decent gate, not to mention official No Trick or Treat posters, might have something to do with it. As it happened I was out (on my day off) at an excellent Chaplaincy Guest Lecture on "Sexuality, Scripture and Psychology". The turn out was better than I anticipated, but primarily drawn from the town rather then the uni, which is a shame. It would have been nice to have a good mix. The speaker, coming from the Roman Catholic tradition, took some material I'd heard before, but never really engaged with, and produced a compellingly-argued synthesis about relationships, both human and divine, in the context their application to the two great commandments. I'm now eagerly awaiting the book to be published next year by Gracewing. It reminded me that I don't really do enough "proper" theology.

On the funeral front I'm going to have to cope with twin issues of the long-term association of individuals with the former incumbent and their desire for his involvement alongside the fact of only working half-time and finding a list of willing substitute clergy for those occasions when I'm not available. It will work through, in time, just like the requests for marriages from outside the parish based on "pretty-building-syndrome."

Do I have enough hours in the day? No. Do I have enough energy? No. Do I have enough experience? Don't know. Am I enjoying it, and sure that God has called me here? Oh, yes!