Living Wittily

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  • James Denney, ‘asserting our origins….’

    Eyrwho121 Amongst the real treasures of Scottish theology, any responsible student of Scottish Christianity would be compelled to set the writing of James Denney, the quintessential Edwardian Scottish minister and scholar. I know. I’ve been known to mention this before! And it wasn’t only Denney – there was James Orr, A. B. Bruce, Henry Drummond, T. M. Lindsay, Alexander Whyte, George Adam Smith, James Moffatt, and in England P. T. Forsyth. What a galaxy of theological talent. Now and then I’ll post some brief reminders of those broad minded but Christ-centred thinkers. Denney was, in my entirely biased opinion, the most lucid, precise and in every important sense, one of the most evangelical of writers.

    The Christian Religion is identical with Jesus Christ; if there is no accessible Christ, there is no Christianity. It is the Church’s being to trust in Christ;it is her vocation to bear witness to Christ; if the shadow of uncertainty or of unreality falls upon Christ, her testimony is paralysed, the breath of her life is withdrawn. (British Weekly, 1902, p.73)

    The primary function of the Church is to assert its origin: it is to bear witness to Christ as the author of all the blessings it enjoys. Its first duty, as its primal impulse, is worship; and worship is the adoring confession of the God revealed in Christ and possessed in the Spirit as the Redeemer of sinful men. There is nothing so characteristic of the Church’s life as doxology.

    (The Church and the Kingdom, p.7)

  • Raging with Compassion

    Johnswinton John Swinton’s book Raging with Compassion is unusual, and unusually good. Because he combines nursing, pastoral and theological disciplines he approaches the problems of evil and suffering as a practical theologian – a theologian who seeks to apply Christian belief to Christian practice in ways appropriate to context and faithful to the Gospel. Early in this book he is uncompromising in his criticism of theoretical theodicies, intellectualised solutions to the problem of evil. Evil is not a philosophical conundrum or a challenging test of theological ingenuity. Indeed the attempt to solve ‘the problem’ of evil as a mental / philosophical / theological exercise, so reduces the realities of human experience to ideas and theory, that such intellectualised distancing contributes to the problem by excusing God or blaming the victim. it then exacerbates the problem because theorising is isolated from both the expereince of the sufferer and from responsibility to respond to and resist evil in practice. Philosophical and academic theodicy merely ‘solves’ the problem by a logically coherent argument within the framework of theism.

    080282997x_01__aa240_sclzzzzzzz__1 Swinton’s alternative is to pursue a practical and pastoral theodicy, a way of responding to evil that is not based on adjusting the pieces of an intellectual board game. The practical theodicist is concerned, not about logical coherence but about pastoral consolation of the sufferer, and developing practices of resistance to evil and suffering wherever it is encountered. So Swinton identifies certain practices which in their interconnectedness, create communities of resistance to evil, and assume an understanding of the human being that is affirmative, protective, supportive and ultimately rooted in the love of the Triune God. This is one of the most satisfying considerations of ‘the problem of evil’ I have read (from Hick’s Evil and the God of Love [1966] to McCord-Adams Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God [1999]. This book isn’t so much a theodicy of intellectual apologetic, but a theodicy of Christian responses to evil that are essentially and redemptively Christlike.

    The four core practices are lament, forgiveness,thoughtfulness and friendship and they make up over half the book. They are preceded by a critique of classic theodicy, a careful chapter defining evil, and an account of practices of redemption which are inherently resistant to human suffering and the evils that add to it. But practices of resistance have an interconnectedness that give them cumulative and embodied effectiveness – in that sense Swinton is arguing for

    i) a form of ecclesiology defined by Christian practice rather than doctrinal distinctives;

    ii) the church as a community that expresses in a practical and pastoral theodicy, the resistance of God to evil and suffering;

    iii) and a community which does so by reflecting in lament, forgiveness, thoughtfulness and friendship, the mercy and grace of God in Christ;

    iv) and persists in such practices because they are deeply rooted in the nature of the Christian God, and the Christian expereince of God as loving creator, incarnate redeemer, active sustainer.

    Next few days I’ll post several key quotations – but near the end of the book is a sentence which summarises the books argument, and indicate the qualities of its writer:

    Learning to practice in the ways described in this book is much more than just human striving. It is an ongoing task carried out in the power of the Holy Spirit and within a community of thoughtful holy friends who recognise whose they are and remain open to the dangerous possibility of meeting Jesus in the multitude of ways in which the stranger comes to us.

  • A heart-broken God?

    Speakersmoltmann Jurgen Moltmann according to his critics is discursive, non-systematic, at times reliant on theological resources which are marginal rather than mainstream, his theology often fuelled by emotive rhetoric rather than substantial intellectual cogency. Much of which could be conceded – and his best work would still tower above many of the more systematic, non-discursive, safely orthodox and at times emotionally under-developed theologies of the 20th Century. I say this because I know of few theologians who have sought as he has, to restore to christian thought and worship, a sense of the tragic triumph that lies at the heart of the cross, that is rooted in inexhaustible resources of self-giving love that pulsate in the heart of the Triune God, and that radiates into creation a hopefulness and purpose by which God will bring all things to completion in Christ.

    Yesterday at worship we sang the praise song ‘Filled with compassion….’ As we sung the first verse and chorus I became aware of a slight dissonance, a feeling that the words didn’t quite say what was there to be said – and I wondered if Moltmann would  have made a small edited change. Here are the words we sang:

    FILLED WITH COMPASSION for all creation,
    Jesus came into a world that was lost.
    There was but one way that He could save us,
    Only through suffering death on a cross.

    God, You are waiting,
    Your heart is breaking
    For all the people who live on the earth.
    Stir us to action,
    Filled with Your passion
    For all the people who live on the earth.

    If invited, I think Moltmann would want to make one slight change to the words, and by doing so a significant change to the theology. Moltmann is passionate about the cross as the place where God’s love is revealed as passionate, suffering love – and while Jesus suffered and died, the Father suffered the death of the Son.  So in line 3 of the verse, if we had sung:

    There is but one way that God could save us

    the song would have acknowledged without embarrassment, the suffering of God. But historically theology is uneasy with this thought as it seems to diminish the otherness and unchangeable nature of God who is not subject to passions. Maybe so – but the chorus goes on to talk about God’s heart breaking, a theme that is deeply rooted in the biblical narrative, which Abraham Heschel calls the pathos of God.

    0802822274_02__bo2204203200_pisitbdp500a For pastoral and personal purposes I am reading through a book called The Incomplete One. It is a book of sermons and extracts from funeral services for children and young people, and reflects on the  experience of suffering that a child’s death brings to a parent. This isn’t devotional anodyne or pastoral cliche. These are sermons by Karl Barth on the death of his son Mathias in a climbing accident, by Friedrich Schleiermacher at the grave of his child, by William Sloane Coffin following his son’s death in a driving accident. They are theologically responsible words shaped out of raw suffering experienced at the extremes of human grief. And they are very near to Moltmann’s sense of the pain of God, and the chorus line, ‘God you are waiting, your heart is breaking’…..

    These theological mysteries of love, suffering, relationship and death, are crucial in Christian theology, and in pastoral accompaniment of those whose hearts are breaking. Moltmann’s theological exposition of the death of the Son and the bereavement of the Father and the Spirit, captures in Trinitarian terms, the reality of the deepest family griefs.

    And I wonder if a theology that acknowledges the suffering of God as implied in Moltmann’s The Crucified God is more capable of the creative, redemptive ministries of reconciliation that our world desperately needs, and the church is charged with embodying? Omnipotence unqualified by love is an odd way of thinking about God the Father…how can we think of love in any terms we could recognise, if it doesn’t have the capacity to be so affected by the suffering of others, that it shares that suffering?

    The questions take me out of my depth – no bad place to be for a theologian I suppose. But I remain convinced that Christian worship must be able to bring to our minds and hearts the reality of a love that is so passionately for us that the cross was not only thinkable, but endurable as redemptive suffering for purposes that are eternal and hope-filled.

    Heidegger in one oh his pessimistic moments described death as ‘the possibility that threatens all my other possibilities’. By contrast, for Christian faith, the cross and resurrection of Jesus are certainties that brings all other possibilities into being.

    O cross, that liftest up my head,

    I dare not ask to fly from thee;

    I lay in dust, life’s glory dead,

    and from the ground there blossoms red,

    life that shall endless be…..

  • 49832_big_1 The pen is mightier than the keyboard and printer. For several years I’ve been the proud owner of a special edition Waterman Fountain Pen which I use to sign letters, and when I want to write something carefully, neatly and personally. It was a gift from the congregation at Crown Terrace Aberdeen. Who knows, maybe my handwritten letters will one day be rare enough to become collectors items – or maybe not.

    My birthday this year coincided with family commitments that meant my birthday present from Sheila had to wait till we were both free to go to the pen shop again – this time for a Waterman ballpoint to match the Fountain. We had to both be free ‘cos I had to be there to choose, and Sheila had to be there to pay! Said pen is the one shown above. It has weight, balance, deep coloured lacquer and writes with a smoothness that makes me embarrassed about how scrawly my handwriting has become after years of keyboard tapping – actually, I don’t so much tap the keyboard as practice martial arts on it with two index fingers which move with lightning speed and variable accuracy.

    I’m off to play with my pen – coloured deep lacquer green, and on the day the Irish won by 19 -18!

  • Confessions of a Bibliophile – Swithering

    Yesterday sneaked into a second hand bookshop and picked up the Hauerwas Reader in near mint condition for a fiver! Then Barth’s  The Word of God and The Word of Man, for not a lot more, came neatly wrapped in old fashioned brown paper with handwritten name and address. I still like olde worlde courtesies of this London bookseller (Pendlebury’s), in contrast to the 21st C jiffy-bag or cardboard sleeve marketing efficiency of the major online retailers.

    Spent ages in Waterstones unable to make up my mind what to do with Waterstone book tokens generously given. Too much choice? Or not in the mood? Or retail paralysis brought on by knowing whatever I choose is already paid for? Needed a latte to ponder profoundly on what might be life-changing options – a soft seat in the gallery, a couple of paperbacks to sip along with the coffee.

    Then back to the task of choice. There’s an involuntary inner trembling at the thought that I can have virtually any book in the shop for the asking – and the token of course. Richard Baxter the Puritan once likened heaven to a library where we would learn all the truth of God and ourselves – so to stand in a bookshop and choose books already paid for, is at least to stand just outside the door, of the vestibule, of heaven! So why the uncertainty, the dithering and swithering and browsing?

    1904598269_02__aa240_sclzzzzzzz_ Norman McCaig’s Collected Poems was a serious temptation and in Scottish vocabulary McCaig would recognise, I ‘swithered’.

    But then Niall Ferguson’s The War of the World is another biggie that I want to read – few people grasp better, the macro-issues 1594201005_01__aa240_sclzzzzzzz_ of 21st century global power plays.

    1845377001_01__aa240_sclzzzzzzz_ Or a superb photographic celebration of Antarctica – coffee table size so long as it’s a big coffee table!

    So after all that I came away to think about it – when I have book tokens for a specific shop that ain’t theological, then I don’t buy theological. There’s only so much theology any person needs, and can read – anyway some of the best theological reflection isn’t found in theology books…but in poetry, history, natural history, in fact, books like the ones I mentioned above and can’t make up my mind about.

    There’s a whole different take on God, life, love, morality, human relationships, in novels,(narrative theology?) travel books,(life as pilgrimage – journey?) biographies,(lived commitments). So no rush – well, no immediate rush – that is, I can wait another day… or two…, I think.

    On the radio the other day a long debate about the cost of removing spat out chewing gum from Glasgow’s pavements (about £2 per paving stone!) – reminded me of the complaint by the American critic Elbert Hubbard:

    This will never be a civilised country until we expend more money for books than we do for chewing gum.

    Most of my life I’ve been doing my bit for civilisation – buying loadsa books, and not spitting out chewing gum!

  • Barthian Haiku

    With reference to the previous post, and especially Graeme’s comment, a little 5x7x5 micro biography!

    Triune Barthian Haiku

    Neo-orthodox,

    Theological donkey-

    Karl spells out the Word

    …

    Markus the builder-

    Ephesian exegete-

    Tamer of donkeys.

    Abbey2_2 …

       Iona’s glory-

    Natural theology’s

    God, glimpsed in beauty.

    …

  • Markus Barth – Hee Haw…

    Abbey2 My friend Anne Muir has recently completed a major project on an oral history of the early days of the Iona Community.

    She sent me the following snippet which is a good illustration of why oral history is irreplaceable as a source of gossip, perspective, and testimony.

    Speaking of Karl Barth, here’s a wee extract from one of my  Iona interviews. It’s with a mason called Adam Campbell who was one of the first craftsmen to work on the re-building of the abbey during the war. He’s telling me about the young ministers who used to come and labour for him.

    We got permission, through the Church of Scotland, to work the glebe at the manse, and some of the young ministers went out to cultivate it. They had a cart with a donkey – ‘Nebo’.  If I mind right, it had to work every second day, and I think the beast knew it, because it was stabled in one of the ruins, and it  would get out of there easy enough, and away up the road, braying. “Hee-haw! Hee-haw!”  You heard it in the Evening Service in the summer time. The chap that took charge of the donkey was a minister. Marcus. Marcus Barth. I think his father was a theologian – Karl Barth was it?  Aye, Marcus was the only one that could make that donkey work.’

    Anne will be the keynote speaker at the first meeting to launch the Centre for the Study of Scottish Christian Spirituality, on March 24, from 10.00a.m. till 1.00p.m.

    The theme for the meeting is ‘Persepctives on George Macleod and the Iona Community’.

    The venue is the Scottish Baptist College, Block K, University of Paisley, at 10 o’clock. Email me if you want more details.

  • Hopeful Imagination day

    Today’s main contribution to blogdom is at hopeful imagination 

    396274_1  But last night’s reading included this Barthian broadside against any marginalising of preaching by the church.

    "… the sermon as the exposition of Scripture, becomes fraught with meaning, when it is a preaching of the Word of God. It is simply a truism that there is nothing more important , more urgent, more helpful, more redemptive, and more salutary, there is nothing, from the viewpoint of heaven or earth, more relevant to the real situation than the speaking and the hearing of the Word of God in the originative and regulative power of its truth, in its all-eradicating and all-reconciling earnestness, in the light that it casts not only upon time and time’s confusions but also beyond, toward the brightness of eternity, revealing time and eternity through each other and in each other – the Word, the Logos, of the Living God. Let us ask ourselves – and as we do so think of Jesus Christ – whether the will of God does not drive us, and the plight of man….does not call us, toward this event?

    Karl Barth, The Word of God and the Word of Man (London: H&S, 1928), 123-4.

  • enemies are important people

    HOW SHALL WE DEFEAT THE ENEMY?

    How shall we defeat The Enemy>

    We shall defeat The Enemy by making alliances.

    Who shall we make alliances with?

    With people in whose interests it is to be enemies with The Enemy.

    How shall we win an alliance with these people?

    We shall win an alliance with these people by giving them money and arms.

    And after that?

    They will help us defeat The Enemy.

    Has The Enemy got money and arms?

    Yes.

    How did The Enemy get money and arms?

    He was once someone in whose interests it was, to be enemies with our enemy.

    Which enemy was this?

    Someone in whose interests it had once been, to be enemies of an enemy.

    Michael Rosen, 2001. (Writer of Chidren’s Poetry)

    0099287226_02__aa240_sclzzzzzzz__3 The logic is impeccable – it is the opaque logic of self-interest, of fluid loyalties and cynical alliances. The depersonalised abstraction dominating the consciousness, throughout the poem, is ‘The Enemy’. And ‘The Enemy’ is identified with upper case, definite article, certainty and finality. No possibility that we are mistaken then, no recognition that there might be another possibility – of reconciliation, of peace, of friendship.

    So this poem with ironic wit and relentless rationality exposes the closed mind that hardens hate into a categorical imperative. Few terms are more depersonalising than that two word abstraction, ‘The Enemy’. It’s when we depersonalise human beings, that we move into the realm of the morally, politically, pragmatically justifiable attack.

    060611_dianne_talking_with_soldiers Now as a Christ follower I happen to believe that my enemies are important people. So important that Jesus used personal pronouns when he spoke about them – he never objectified people as ”The Enemy’. They are people, like me, subjects capable of response, human beings with the same possibilities of change as me, and even if they don’t or won’t cease being my enemy, they are still not a disposable abstraction called ‘The Enemy’. So Jesus makes enmity personal, and in some of his most demanding yet grace-filled words, he rehumanises enmity and helps us recover our perspective, the human perspective originating from the divine perspective! And he does so by using the personal pronoun, second person, possessive – your enemy belongs to you, and is therefore your responsibility. How scary is that?

    Matt 5.44, But I say to you, love your enemies…..

    Luke 6.35, Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you….

    Rom.12.20 If your enemy is hungry feed him….. (Paul echoing the words of Jesus?)

    Prayer

    Lord may I recognise in my enemies,

    your image,

    their humanity,

    my unknown friend.

    Forgive all dehumanising abstractions,

    that reduce personal humanity to impersonal hostility.

    Forgive the willed blindness to the truth of ‘the other’;

    open my eyes

    to see their face

    open my mouth

    in the saying of their name,

    open my arms

    in welcome to their presence,

    open my heart

    in honouring their humanity.

    In the name of Jesus the Lord

    Who died rather than kill his enemies,

    Amen.

  • You are the lens in the beam….

    Hammarskjold Dag Hammarskjold is one of my spiritual heroes. Diplomat, statesman, ambassador, politician, arbiter, peacemaker – and a man of granite integrity. His book Markings I’ve bought three times. The first volume, a Faber paperback, eventually split into a pile of pamphlets as the glue dried out. The second I gave to an older friend who loved the oblique wisdom of someone who looked steadily into mystery without jumping to easy conclusions. The third I’ve lost, and don’t know where – and I will buy a fourth copy! Hammarskjold famously identified the radical differences that modern life imposed on our understanding of Christian sanctity and goodness: "In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action".

    But it is one of his more astringent comments on a life of self-disciplined service that I have often gone back to as an ideal of ministry – though I’d want to live this goal with a sufficient and divine grace presupposed.

    You are the lens in the beam. You can only receive, give, and possess the light as the lens does. If you seek yourself, you rob the lens of its transparency. You will know life and be acknowledged by it according to your degree of transparency, your capacity, that is, to vanish as an end, and remain purely as a means.