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  • A Week of Heschel: Sunday


    2






     

    God is not an hypothesis derived from logical assumptions, but an immediate insight,

    self evident as light.

    He is not something to be sought in the darkness with the light of reason.

    He is the light.

    A J Heschel, Man is not Alone, page 75

  • A Week of A J Heschel: Saturday


    Asgood


    Surely God will always receive a surprise of a handful of fools –

    who do not fail.

    There will always remain a spiritual underground

    where a few brave minds continue to fight.

    Yet our concern is not how to worship in the catacombs

    but rather how to remain human in the skyscrapers.

    A J Heschel, Insecurity of Freedom, page 23.

  • Disappearing comments – an apology and explanation.

    There are currently a number of problems relating to comments disappearing which Typepad are currently trying to fix. If you left a comment in the past week or so and it hasn't appeared, then something in the software has eaten it! Apologies for this, and also from Typepad who are trying to sort it.

    There is also a problem with the edit function which means I am currently stuck with this font and size. Sorry for all of this. I'm hoping it will be resolved soon. Chris and Geoff and Catriona – your comments are amongst the recent casualites. If you still want them posted, then please resend them and I'll get them up. The problem arises when I want to delete spam – it seems deleting one knocks out other approved comments.

    Will let you know when it is fixed. Meantime keep commenting and I will simply stop deleting anything till the problem is resolved by the very good team at Typepad. That ain't flattery – they are very good.

  • Guernica – the novel and the painting


    519gvyUvh8L._SL500_AA300_ Guernica, Dave Boling, (Picador)

    This is a
    carefully researched novel about Basque village life in the 30's seen through
    the eyes of three generations, culminating in the atrocity that was Guernica.
    Picasso's presence is woven throughout, and the novelist  makes him neither hero nor villain, but
    simply what he is; an artist who lives with the ambiguity of his own life story
    and the politics of his time. His painting of the raids on Guernica (which is
    brilliantly repulsive in conception and creation) is an example of art as moral
    outrage and political protest – and of how the representation of human anguish
    when it is well done as in Picasso's Guernica, is potent not by its power to
    attract, but by its power to repel. The medium conveys exactly human recoil
    from the evil the painting depicts.

     


    Guernica It’s an interesting
    thought, that art, so naturally identified with the creation of beauty, grace
    and human loveliness, is equally potent in depicting ugliness, violence and
    human suffering. There are some paintings that are hideous both in their
    content and in their execution, and that makes them great art because they
    compel attention to the human experience of that which dehumanises, degrades
    and violates. In class last year when looking at artistic representations of
    Jesus on the cross, there were several images which students found repulsive,
    even upsetting, there was “no beauty that we should desire him”. Crucifixion is
    utter unremitting cruelty, and some artists refuse to surround such inhumane
    infliction with light or hope or theological concessions. Likewise, Picasso in
    his painting of the atrocity of Guernica, was unsparing of the sensitivities of
    the public viewers of his art. There are times when art speaks truth, the
    representation of a subject contributes to its reality, the medium successfully
    conveys the message, the viewer is forcibly confronted with what we would
    rather not see and think, and thus moral judgement is demanded by the stark
    uncompromising portrayal of moral evil.



    Spirit-picasso18 There is no
    comfortable distance from which to view Picasso’s Guernica. It is an offence,
    searingly effective, and the depth of negative reaction to its images and
    overall composition is precisely the intent – a jolt in the nerve centre of our
    moral perceptions and political complacency. This novel doesn’t operate at this
    kind of level, at least not self-consciously. But by giving human face and
    character to the villagers, by drawing us into the family life of the Basque
    people, and by making us care for the outcomes in the stories of their lives,
    such personal and moral reactions are inevitably evoked. Near the end, there is a beautifully conceived insight into how human beings deal with loss and love. It comes as a comment on how two men coped with the violent deaths of their wives and children in the bombing raid:

    "…if you lose someone you love, you need to redistribute your feelings rather than surrender them. You give them to whoever is left, and the rest you turn towards something that will keep you moving forward."

    So the novel is a romance and a lament, a celebration of human courage and consolation, an affirmation of the love that humans have for each other and the finite miracle of love that survives brutal death; but all this set against the chronic capacity of human beings to hate, or worse, to not care about the consequences for other human beings of military action and political violence. And Picasso's painting, now an iconic image, an artistic monument of 25 feet by 12 feet, ensures that the name of a the small historic town of Guernica is not forgotten. And Picasso's poignant image of the dove flying over broken weapons of war is also a necessary and urgent reminder that human creatvity, industry and reason, can also be persuaders and builders of peace. This is a fine novel, about a remarkable painting, a flawed artistic genius, and an act of human barbarity that changed the nature of war.

    The book ends with the following few lines. It isn't a spoiler to quote it. The opposite in fact, it's an invitation to read the book, and enter with moral imagination the experience that inspired a masterpiece of poltical protest, moral outrage and symbolic resistance to war.

    Picasso is sitting in his favourite cafe in Paris. He is approached by a German officer.

    "One officer who considered himself culturally advanced approached the artist as he sipped his coffee at a table beneath the green pavement awninga. The officer held a reproduction of the mural Guernica, barely larger than a postcard size.

    'Pardon me', he said, holding the card out. 'You did this didn't you?'

    Picasso put his cup delicately on its saucer, turned to the picture, then to the officer, and responded, 'No. You did.'

  • A Week of A J Heschel: Thursday


    C21_heschel

    Everything depends on the person who stands in front of the classroom. The teacher is not an automatic fountian from which intellectual beverages may be obtained. the teacher is either a witness or a stranger. To guide a pupil into the promised land, she must have been there herself. When asking herself: Do I stand for what I teach? Do I believe what I say? she must be able to answer in the affirmative.

    What we need more than anything else is not textbooks but textpeople. It is the personality of the teacher which is the text that the pupils read; the text that they will never forget. 

    The Insecurity of Freedom, 39-40

  • A Week of A J Heschel : Wednesday


    24conn

    What do most of us know about the substance of words? Estranged from the soil of the soul, our words do not grow as fruits of insightas, but are found as sapless cliches, refuse in the backyard of intelligence. To the man of our age nothing is as familiar and nothing as trite as words…we all live in them, feel in them, think in them, but failing to uphold their independent dignity, to respect their power and weight, they turn waif, elusive, a mouthful of dust….

    Words have ceased to be commitments.

    Man's Quest for God, pages 23, 25.

  • A Week of A J Heschel : Tuesday


    Heschel-at JTS
    Let justice roll down like waters

    and righteousness like a mighty stream (Amos 5.24)

    Righteousness as a mere tributary, feeding human interests, is easily exhausted and more easily abused. But righteousness is not a trickle; it is God's power in the world., a torrent, an impetuous drive, full of grandeur and majesty. The surge is chokedm the sweep is blocked. Yet the mighty stream will break all dikes…. In the eyes of the prophets, justice is more than an idea or a norm: justice is charged with the omnipotence of God. What ought to be shall be!

    The Prophets, 212-213.

     

  • A week of A J Heschel: Monday


    Heschel_king_web

     We live by the conviction that acts of goodness

    reflect the hidden light of His holiness.

    His light is above our minds

    but not beyond our will.

    It is within our power to mirror his unending love

    in deeds of kindnes

    like brooks that hold the sky.

    God in Search of Man, page 290

  • The biggest book I’ve ever bought! :)) – and the artist as alternative exegete

    41QmtJ45YCL._SL500_AA300_ Two books recently bought. One huge, as in mega-big. I didn't look at the dimensions when I clicked. (36x43x3). Don't care. It's a coffee table book, which could also mean put legs on it and it is big enough for a coffee table! But it is a gorgeously produced, outrageously sized, sumptuously heavy, ridiculously unwieldy, impossible to read in bed, but impossible not to read, study of Johannes Vermeer and His World. And the price is £15 from Amazon! There are 10 posters for framing included and I reckon any half decent print shop would charge you more than £15 for one of them, let alone the book and the set.

    There is one painting in particular I want to spend some time with – Vermeer's interpretation of the Martha and Mary story. Of which more in a later post. But this volume is a labour of love; each of the confirmed Vermeer paintings is reproduced, with good background notes, exposition of key details, and building up to an education in the understanding and appreciation of artistic development from gift to genius. What becomes progressively clearer in studying the paintings is the way the eyes of the subjects are portrayed. How they look, the direction and focus, the use of light, each draw the attention of the viewer, and thus influence the way we look, and point us towards what we ought to see. In other words the artist is providing his own hermeneutic, and with Vermeer that includes provoking and directing emotional attentiveness "by rendering visible particular moods and feelings". One of the unmistakable responses to a Vermeer masterpiece is precisely this, the artist setting the emotional climate in which the painting can best be appropriated, and doing so by taking control of how the viewer looks and what it is the artist wants the viewer to notice.

    Christ_in_the_house_of_mary_and_martha Exegesis of a text requires, and is inevitably accompanied by, a set of hermeneutical assumptions, strategies, principles – which are themselves influenced by the capacity of the text to speak for itself. There is an equivalent process, when the text is not in words but in image. Visibility, seeing and reading the non-verbal text, is with an eye to apprehending the truth, the is-ness made visible and comprehensible not in words but in that emotional and spiritual intuition of the viewer that recognises the rightness, the fittingness, the yes factor in what is being viewed. 

    This is an important resource for theological nourishment, as well as a crucial insight for theological understanding. Much hermeneutical activity which surrounds the exegesis of words composed into texts, strongly focuses on meaning and truth. The equivalent hermeneutical activity in art focuses on the response of the viewer to beauty, and the search to understand the process by which the apprehension of beauty opens the mind to truth of another order. This painting is a pictorial exegesis of a gospel incident that has been deeply influential in the development of Christian spirituality, especially the unhelpful distinction between the active and the contemplative life. Vermeer portrays both women as having Jesus' attention, and there is little sense of one being preferred to the other. The active and the contemplative, the kitchen and the prayer stool, food and conversation, Martha and Mary, are equally disciples, and feeding the hungry Jesus is as important as listening to Jesus' words. Dag Hammarskjold, that surprisingly perceptive Christian and Secretary General of the UN, understood the given and creative tension of Christian obedience, that "the way to holiness lies through the world of action".

    And Thomas Merton, who to my knowledge didn't write on this gospel incident, though one of the greatest apologists for the contemplative life in silence and solitude, nevertheless linked these spiritual disciplines of passive waiting (Mary) to the richer textured realities of active obedience in the world (Martha), and to demonstable Christian practices which embody and enflesh the virtues of peacemaking, love and social compassion. His finest writing is found in the collision, or perhaps the conflation, of contemplative and political theology, the fusion in his spirituality of prayer and protest, the insistence that true communion with God and love for the world are to be found both in the inward cohesion of a contemplative community, and in the outreaching and scattering of that community in Christian witness to a broken God-loved world. And it is not unimportant that some of his most telling statements are not in words, but in photographs, poems and calligraphic art. And some of his most piercing images are literary and in his best known essays. For Merton, word and image are equally effective conduits of those truths that shape and inspire patterns of behaviour and practice that are demonstrably Christian.  

  • Holidays and the homeward flight of the goose

    Came across this in a book I didn’t intend to
    look at today, but which was in a box I was moving. Some time ago I’d
    marked this sentence about holidays.
     

    “a time of physical and emotional well-being
    when the self’s normal defences of tension, focus, image and desire are
    in abeyance, a time when everything that has been planted can safely
    creep up through the soil and begin to live in our consciousness."

    Another wise writer spoke of the frustration and waste of what she called "unassimilated experience", by which she meant, too much living with no time for reflection, learning and adjusting our inner world to the happenings of the oputer world as they impinge on us.

    Holidays have always been a mixture for me. I don't quickly adjust to being off. Some call it workaholism, but that isn't how it feels. More a way of life that is engaged, involved, structured and focused, and if a holiday is about change it means making time to disengage, reduce involvement, step outside of structure and widen focus – and that can take some time. A bit like taking off your specs and letting your eyes adjust; or coming to the end of a long run and slowing down, then walking, before stopping.

    Kylie Minogue, not renowned for metaphysical gymnastics, once quipped, "I have had a holiday and I'd like to take it up professionally." I don't doubt she could afford it, but could she live with it. I could neither afford nor live with it. But I do recognise the need to create time and space to assimilate the experience of a busy life; and I too have planted thoughts that need a chance to "safely creep up through the soil".


    Canada-geese-flying So this year a longer than usual holiday, much of it spent in and around our new home here in Aberdeen. A sense of place, of roots, of connectedness, breaking in the new home like new shoes and the same aim – to feel comfortable walking the journey. Whe Jesus said "Come ye apart", it wasn't a statement about life falling to pieces or personal disinitegration. It was an invitation to step aside for a while; to stop long enough to ask what it is we are doing and why; to recover a sense of proportion and perspective and understand again that the world, even our own small worlds, get along quite well without us. Indispensability is the temptation of the proud, and I reckon most of us have a rich seam of that running through our egos.

    Mary Oliver knows what I'm talking about:

    You do not have to be good.
    You do not have to walk on your knees
    For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
    You only have to let the soft animal of your body
    love what it loves.
    Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
    Meanwhile the world goes on.
    Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
    are moving across the landscapes,
    over the prairies and the deep trees,
    the mountains and the rivers.
    Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
    are heading home again.
    Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
    the world offers itself to your imagination,
    calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
    over and over announcing your place
    in the family of things.

    If our searching and longing, our waiting and hoping, our desring and expecting were distilled into one phrase, for me that would be it – finding and "announcing our place in the family of things." O for the wings of a dove? Nah. I prefer the beating purposefulness of the Canada goose, honking its way home and using its wing-beats to make it easier for the others around it.

    This weekend the holiday starts.