Aberdeen 2 – Bayern Munich 2
Just spent a couple of hours sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking at the TV screen between my fingers, from behind the cushion, and sometimes squinting through near closed eyelids. Most of us were prepared for a hard lesson in due humility, or even overdue humiliation. But the boys done good. And the return is next Thursday on my birthday – so I get to choose the food for our meal, and the entertainment for the night.
Come on you reds!!!!!!!!!!!
On my way to a funeral I was conducting and had to cross the Kingston Bridge at 8.30 am. Those who have to do this regularly have stamina, patience, and an abuility to endure tedium way beyond my meagre reserves.
But it wasn’t as bad as I thought and I was able to go into the Garden Centre off the motorway at 9.01 am. Which was a bit early for the counter staff who were still putting on the aprons and getting ready to serve us customers. I was there for a latte and a scone just coming out the oven, when I was given the best excuse / explanation / reason for being a wee bit late I’ve heard for a long while.
"Sorry I’m a bit later" she said. "Ah had that many Valentines tae open".
I’d just been listening to the radio and the news that to send an e-valentine is now considered by many employers to be an unwanted advance, and could lead to dismissal. I mentioned this to my Valentine delayed friend who snorted, (and I quote her exactly) " Whit? Valentines by email? Ah’d juist delete them. They’re beneath contempt! Naw. Ah like the Victorian wans, hand made, and wi’ the price still on them tae let ye see how much they spent!"
I hoped she was indeed late for work because of the volume of Victorian hand-made cards, with the price visible.
As I left she shouted, "Have a good Valentine’s day yersel".
St Valentine’s day is a celebration of love. I suppose a lot of what we say and buy and sing and do to declare our love can be transient and flippant, or funny and affirming, and maybe even genuine and sincere. Cards, flowers, daft verses, jewellery, romantic meals – a whole industry based on romance, and why not?
The funeral I was conducting was of a family friend, and he and his wife had been married for 60 years and 6 months. Now when it comes to declarations of love, I think 60 years of passionate caring, faithful companionship, shared journeying, and well kept promises, is a demonstration of what human love is capable of. Faithful friendship that grows out of the passionate yes of two people to each other sixty years ago, is a beautiful gift, both to those who make such commitments, and to those of us around them who see what love looks like when we are given the long view of it.
"Have a good Valentine’s day yersel" I was wished. For all the sadness that is inevitable in the separation of a lifelong relationship, that’s just what I’ve had. These three abide – faith, hope, and love – but the greatest of these is love. And sometimes its most beautiful face is old.
In an age of theological rationalism when the Trinity was seen as a form of manufactured speculative metaphysical maybe, but so what, doctrine, Charles Wesley produced a series of hymns that some argue did much to conserve Trinitarian orthodoxy by embedding it in hymns. Doxology became the durable form of theology, because Wesley’s genius was to take theological truth and spiritual conviction and turn them into the prayers and praises of hymns. In 1767 the Wesley brothers published Hymns on the Trinity, and gifted to the church some of the best theological reflection on why Christian spirituality must have a Trinitarian foundation.
Fountain of Divine compassion,
Father of the ransomed race,
Christ our Saviour and salvation,
Spirit of consecrating grace;
See us prostrated before Thee;
Co-essential Three in One,
Glorious God, our souls adore Thee
High on Thine eternal throne.
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While we in Thy name assemble,
Overshadowed from above,
Let us at Thy presence tremble,
Holy Triune God of Love;
Father, Son and Spirit bless us,
Who the true Jehovah art;
Plenitude of God in Jesus,
Enter every contrite heart.
The first verse places theological reflection within an attitude of adoring contemplation. The second verse moves from adoration to petition, and from contemplation of the Divine beauty to petition for the Divine presence in the human heart humble enough to welcome the Holy Triune God of love. Charles has little interest in speculative analysis, though he treats the doctrine here and there in his sermons. But as Geoffrey Wainwright pointed out, in the hymns he moves from the calm prose of his written sermons, to the ‘incandescent orthodoxy’ of hymns intentionally experiential; analysis yields to adoration, and speculative thought is transmuted into spiritual response.
The two verses of this hymn would be an interesting call to worship – doxology as adoring contemplation, and as humble petition.
Much of my research time is now taken up preparing lectures I’m scheduled to deliver at South Wales Baptist College in a few weeks time. Given the general title Evangelical Spirituality, I’ve chosen to explore the role of Charles Wesley’s hymns in helping give shape and content to emergent Evangelical spirituality. The combination of experience, theology, scriptural discourse and rhetorical skill are all evident in the remarkable literary achievement of A Collection of Hymns for the Use of the People called Methodists.
Edited by his brother John, Charles wrote most of the hymns gathered and orgainsed into a handbook of the spiritual theology and theological experience of the Evangelical Revival; it is a key source of early Evangelical theology. Charles Wesley is too easily eclipsed by John, but in recent years there has been a revival of scholarly activity focusing not only on his hymns, which are magnificently presented in the Bicentennial Edition, but on other aspects of Charles life and contribution to the Evangelical revival. The critical notes, Introduction, and comprehensive indices of the Bicentennial Edition have made this book one of my most cherished possessions, especially since mine is the early Oxford Edition, beautifully bound in Oxford blue and decorated with John Wesley’s monogram. This month S T Kimbrough and others publish the first full critical edition of Charles’ Journal in two volumes; and a few years ago Oxford printed a critical edition of his sermons. Then too, several important biographical and theological studies add to the growing list of monographs and secondary studies. It’s a good time to be studying the hymns of Wesley, and I’ll do a post soon of the key resources, primary and secondary.
My own specific interest at present is the rhetorical and polemical use of language, poetic skill and device, and the pastoral strategy that can be discerned in Charles’ work. Theological imagination, speculative mysticism reined in by biblical constraint, doctrinally definite assertion having to accommodate bold even reckless aspiration for all and every blessing made available by an infinite grace. Charles’ theology is not for the faint hearted conservative scared of overstating the divine readiness to bless. Amongst his more adventurous efforts are a number of hymns on the Triune God, in the form of prayers that the eternal Trinity come in renewing power to indwell and renew the human heart. The renewal of God’s image in the redeemed, renewed and perfected heart is the definitive goal of Charles Wesley’s theology. He never, ever, underestimated the possibilities of divine grace and eternal love as they worked on fallen, fallible human nature with redemptive intent. If that gave his hymns an unsettling note of extravagance, Charles would have preferred that to a theology always wanting to qualify and limit grace to the reach of human reason, even the sanctified reason of the theologically timid.
Come, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Whom one all-perfect God we own,
Restorer of thine image lost,
Thy various offices make known;
Display, our fallen souls to raise,
The whole economy of grace.
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O that we now, in love renewed,
Might blameless in thy sight appear;
Wake we in thy similitude,
Stamped with the Triune character;
Flesh, spirit, soul to thee resign
And live and die entirely thine!
To reduce all aspects of life to a valuation indexed to usefulness, profitability, functionality, is to fall into the utilitarian nightmare. Such valuations see everything as a means to an end; now most things are, in fact, a means to an end; but a human being can never be reduced to such valuations based on usefulness, functionality, the status of means to other people’s ends, or an organisation’s ends, or a State’s ends. What sets a human being apart in moral and theological terms is that a human being is an end in herself, or himself. Yet at the same time the first question of the catechism immediately provides an important qualifying perspective. A human being not only is an end in herself, but has a chief end – to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.
It is because we are given our essential value, our enduring identity, our unique calling as gifts bestowed by God that we can never be ultimately reduced to mere means. We are created as those whose end is to love, serve and worship God. Heschel’s theology of human existence, draws nourishment from a root system plunged deep into the Hebrew Bible, which is why he is so resistant to any view of the old person as burden on society, or as one whose provision should in any sense depend on ongoing usefulness and economic contribution to society. Here is a word whose prophetic note reverberates through four decades with compelling relevance:
There are alleys in the soul where man walks alone, ways that do not lead to society, a world of privacy that shrinks from the public eye. Life comprises not only arable, productive land, but also mountains of dreams, an underground of sorrow, towers of yearning, which can hardly be utilised to the last for the good of society, unless man be converted into a machine in which every screw must serve a function or be removed.
All of which leaves me wondering about the level of provision made for the elderly in our own society; the refusal to benchmark the Old Age Pension to a reasonable subsistence level and then index it; the recognised epidemic of loneliness amongst the oldest members of the population; the relatively small amount of money invested in research into some of the ailments of human ageing; the impatience of motorists at traffic lights which are already set with the green man at such a short time frame that it takes levels of agility to get across in time that some of the motorists would themselves struggle to beat; the sheer complexity of applications for benefit, rebate, relief from all kinds of costs – not least Council Tax; the bewilderment and sense of being left behind by rapid technological changes that in any case presuppose significant funds to access them – broadband, mobile phones, digital TV. And just to avoid stereotyping, I know a nonogenarian who recently took delivery of the new laptop so that it could download quicker!
No society can do everything; and the Scottish Government intends well towards our older people, even if local government expressions of policy and commitment to fulfilling free care vary wildly. But I still think that within the Church that is the Body of Christ, there is a need for outspoken alertness on behalf of those older members of our community and society, who remain valuable, wanted, needed – not for what they do or did, but for who they uniquely, preciously, and at times expensively, are.
There are few more important ways of wasting time, than visiting old people – I use the word deliberately, in the way Dr Sheila Cassidy uses it – to waste time with people is to give them non-productive time in order to give your self, to gift them presence as a sign of their worth. I know about strategic planning, dynamic leadership, anointed preaching, every person ministry, purpose driven this and that. But I have a feeling Jesus would have found time to spend, waste, give, and in so doing would de-marginalise one of the pushed to the fringe groups of our cost/benefit analysis culture. In fact I rather like the term – de-marginalise.
For years now I’ve been a contributor to the Aberdeen Press and Journal, one of the few papers I know that has a God slot – a Saturday Ssermon, no less. Here’s the one the good people of Aberdeen will be reading today.
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“There’s an epidemic of apathy, and I don’t care.”
“When people complain about a culture becoming complacent, I shrug my shoulders.”
These aren’t humorous remarks, they’re more like the resigned cynicism of a society so unsure of its future it’s hard to know what to care for. They’re the language used by paid up members of NMP – Not My Problem.
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In Alan Paton’s novel of South Africa, Ah ! But your Land is Beautiful, there is a conversation between a white school headmaster, and Emmanuel Nene, a local leader of the black community. Following the ban on white and black children playing cricket together the headmaster resigned his job, because he said, “ I think it is time to go out and fight everything that separates people from one another”. Both of them, white and black together, accept they will be wounded and hurt, that such passionate caring for what happens in their society will be dangerous. Their conversation ends like this:
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“Yes, and I’m going to get wounded, too. Not only by the government, but also by my own people as well.”
“Aren’t you worried about the wounds, Mr. Nene?”
“I don’t worry about the wounds. When I go up there, which is my intention, the Big Judge will say to me, Where are your wounds? and if I say I haven’t any, he will say, Was there nothing to fight for? I couldn’t face that question.”
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It’s hard to see how, by acting faithfully and living obediently to the words of Jesus, we can avoid those moments when we have to fight. They’re fair questions – where are your wounds? Was there nothing to fight for? Fair and just questions, because justice and righteousness are core values of a Christian worldview. And there’s plenty to fight for, and against.
For truthfulness, and against the pervasive dishonesty of much in public life;
for friendship, and against bullying that only thrives where it isn’t confronted;
for open trust, and against the creeping backstabbing nastiness that invades office space;
for commonsense, and against irresponsible front door promotions of buy one get one free multi-packs of booze in supermarkets;
for human dignity and diversity, and against racism, latent and blatant; against, well against whatever diminishes and devalues human beings and human life. ‘Let justice roll down like water and righteousness like an ever rolling stream’ – not mere aspiration, but worldview, lifestyle, prayer that leads to practice.
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It’s Lent. Maybe complacency would be harder to give up than chocolate, wine, TV. It might be worth deciding what to fight for….and against. If we can be bothered!
The Scottish Baptist College now has its own blog, set up by Stuart and a place where we will post news, articles, reviews and open up discussion on areas of theology and ministry, both in a Baptist context and with openness to wider views and experience. We will also do book reviews in areas in which we teach, or have an interest, and for those who engage in a preaching ministry some suggested reading, shared experience, ideas.
The link is on my sidebar amongst the Blogs I Regularly Read. I posted there yesterday and you can find it here. The post asks whether we are entirely right to say the raison d’etre of the Church is mission. One witness who sees the Church’s role from a different perpsective is P T Forsyth who prefers the word mediatorial to missional.
Gerontology is the scientific study of ageing. Growing old is the existential reality of ageing in people’s experience. Heschel’s remarkable essay, ‘Growing in Wisdom’ is remarkably prescient, given its date in 1964, and that this plea for a theology of ageing first appeared in a publication Geriatric Institutional Management. Even in the 60’s he recognised the dangers of celebrating youth at the expense of age. ‘Youth is our God and to be young is divine….The cult of youth is idolatry.’ Sounds like overstated rhetoric, but Heschel had already identified the impatience a consumer society with the less productive, less economically powerful. For many older people old age comes to be seen as defeat, a chronic form of capital punishment, because life, excitement, vitality, productivity now seems to be consigned to memory. The compassion and passion Heschel had for human beings, especially vulnerable human beings, gives his words an essential moral authority.
By what standards do we measure culture? It is customary to evaluate a nation by the magnitude of its scientific contributions or the quality of its artictic achievements. However, the true standard by which to guage a culture is the extent to which reverence, compassion, justice, are to be found in the daily lives of a whole people, not only in the acts of isolated individuals. Culture is a style of living compatible with the grandeur of being human.
The emphasis is his, and the statement is a searching performance indicator for our own culture, now, here. On free care for the elderly, Heschel asks, ‘Is there anything as holy, as urgent, as noble, as the effort of the whole nation to provide medical care for the old?’ His choice of words is odd, for a consumer society. Not a hint about affordability, budget constraints, waiting lists; instead care for the old as holy purpose, comfort of the old as humanly urgent, support for the old as noble task.
‘The aged may be described as a person who does not dream anymore…’ This for Heschel is a spiritual matter. To grow old should not mean the loss of dreams, but opening up of the self to whatever future awaits as goodness and mercy surely follow us, all the days of our lives. For that reason heschel insists that the spirituality of ageing is less important than the spirituality of the aged. With poignant impatience he observed, ‘to be retired does not mean to be retarded’. he identified three spiritual ills of old age that need to be addressed: i) The sense of being useless; ii) the sense of inner emptiness and boredom; iii) loneliness and the fear of time.
The essay title, ‘To grow in wisdom’, explains the profoundly biblical substratum of this way of thinking. To study, to grow, to toil and to mature, to work and worship, to live life in its fullness, both celebration and sorrow, achievment and failure, and to do so nourished by prayer and honoured in our humanity, that is something of the rich meaning of shalom. And for old people, that shalom will require a culture which honours the grandeur of being human.
Discussion the other day about reflection as a form of listening. Is listening a gift, a skill, an art, a discipline, or a combination of some or all of these? What would reflective listening feel like? A very good friend, of an older school of Evangelical formation, good naturedly pulled my leg about overuse of the word reflect. he felt that too much time reflecting, got in the way of doing. I know what he meant, and as one of the most skilled workers of wood I know, trained as a ship’s carpenter, he knew about the importance of doing, of practical, manual making a difference. Till I pointed out that the good carpenter (and he is one of the best I’ve watched) is a reflective practitioner, thoughtfully working with tools and material to create a solid object that witnesses to his skill and thought. So, I’m yet to be convinced we would ever be in danger of reflecting too much. More likely we have educated ourselves out of reflection as slowed down thought, considered opinion, informed judgement, balancing considerations with evidence. And maybe it isn’t we have educated ourselves out of reflective listening, as that we never really learned it.
Now when it comes to theology, theologising, and theologians, I am entirely persuaded that theological reflection is an important form of listening, reflective listening. And in that conversation we identified two ways of listening that we all practice, and we aren’t often aware of the difference it can make to a conversation, a relationship, an outcome, which one we use. There is receptive listening and there is interceptive listening. Receptive listening is when our attitude is open, our presuppositions and prejudices silenced, our attention is given, and the other is the guide to where the conversation is going. Interceptive listening is when the word clothed thoughts of the Other are intercepted by our own thoughts impatiently waiting to be clothed in words as soon as we get a word in edgeways. The first, receptive listening is interested in what the other thinks, how they think, why what they think is important, and so their words are gifts that make possible communication and understanding. Whereas interceptive listening is a defensive stance, anticipating the earliest moment available for regaining cotrol of the conversation.
The good theologian is a receptive listener – whether to the human voice in discussion, argument, testimony – or to the voice of a text which informs, persuades, challenges, contradicts, affirms, – or to the choral voice of the Christian tradition, recognising the harmonies and movements, the points and counterpoints, and responding to the textured sound of theological music as it is composed, practised and performed. I suppose what I am asking you to be receptive to, is the idea that a receptive mind and heart is one skilled in the art of reflective listening; openness of spirit to what is new and different, humility before the careful thought of others, docility that is the attitude of the teachable ( and reachable) soul, hospitable to the truth that will always be more than we can safely contain. A lot of theological writing, quite a lot of contemporary preaching, and maybe even too much of our usual ways of conversing, lean more towards an interceptive form of listening, when our own presupposed rightness is more important than the off chance that the Other may have something life-enhancing or life-saving to say to us.
Amongst the habits I’ve grown into over the years is reflective reading – a long, slow, meandering walk with someone whose voice, at least during those pre-arranged appointments, is always to be considered more important than mine. It may be that reflective, receptive listening describes those times when we let others get their words in edgeways. One further thought from that discussion – talking of theology and imagination, we moved to the word speculation. Why does speculative theology get such a bad press? As if God’s immensity, mystery and overwhelming mercy were in some sense threatened by our thinking! A far greater threat to the vast mysterious truth of who God is, is that guarded timidity that wants our talk of God to stay within already confirmed parameters, a process of interceptive listening that is in danger of making what we already think, know, or think we know, a final position to be defended.
Theological reflection can only take place if there is a willed vulnerability, a determined openness, a receptive attentiveness, to voices other than our own.
Hain defends job for mother 80.
That’s the headline at the end of a week when polls suggest MP’s are unpopular, are in the relegation zone of the public trust league, when an MP has been suspended for employing his two sons for £45,000 worth of work for which there is no paper trail, and Mr Hain himself just over a week into a police investigation about undeclared donations. In the light of very dodgy forms of nepotism (promoting or rewarding on the basis of family connection rather than talent, entitlement or right) what offends me about the headline is the number 80.
Of what relevance is the age of a secretary who still does efficiently the job she began in 1991, and possibly better than younger alternatives when it comes to life experience, literacy, discretion and overall reliability? An octogenarian does a good, honest job, all above board, and is sucked into a row about dodgy deals involving MP expenses, and family connections.
Apart from the murky machinations of MP’s financial choices, it’s also been a week of widespread debate about massive shortfalls in future funding for care of the elderly. As each year passes our impartiality is undermined by the realisation that one day we’ll be old too. Given that we need a radical overhaul of policy, and a realignment of public and Government attitudes, and a recovery of the moral values that underpin a humane society, I am also in search of a theology of ageing. Such a theology grows out of the kinds of values that expose the above headline for what it is – a piece of engrained prejudice based on a narrow, utilitarian view of human capacity. And it disguises itself as a morally defensible enquiry about whether or not an elderly woman should be employed by her son and paid by taxpayer’s money.
At different stages of the church’s history specific doctrines have played a major role in overall theological restatement. Christological and trinitarian controversies dominated the first few centuries; at other times ecclesiology, the doctrine of justification and / or the doctrine of Scripture, the work of the Holy Spirit and again in the last couple of decades further review and reflection on the nature of the Triune God. But in an age of genetic technology, ecological crisis, globalised consumerism and religious transmutation from radicalism through extremism, it may be that the Christian understanding of the human will become a crucial counter narrative.
The dignity and value of each human person, the God-givenness of existence and identity, the common humanity of all and yet the scandal of particularity witnessed to in the incarnation of Jesus, makes a Christian anthropology an important line in the sand when we talk about how we treat the elderly, protect the vulnerable, cherish human life, resist dehumanising politics and protest against the bar-coding approach to the cost of caring for and nurturing human life throughout the life cycle. Practical issues of funding and resources may become acute; economic choices will have to be made, and that may not be to our economic advantage in the global market; and human welfare is sustained by finite resources just as our economies and communities are.
But what a Christian anthropology seeks to provide is a nexus of values that secures a reverence for human life, a respect for all who share this planet, and a working assumption for Christians that every human being is one for whom Christ died, who bears the image of God however dishonoured, and who lives in the tragic ambiguity of a fallen world. But a world invaded by the grace and truth that came by Jesus Christ. Jesus the Jew was immersed in the spiritual wisdom of the Torah, the instruction of God that shaped and gave texture to the shared life of Jewish communities.
Which brings me to my favourite rabbi, Abraham Joshua Heschel, who wrote a quite remarkable celebration of age, wisdom and humanity. After fifty years, his essay carries the moral rebuke of a prophet who knew the importance of an anthropology rooted in the values of the Hebrew Bible. Here are the first two paragraphs:
I see the sick and the despised, the defeated and the bitter, the rejected and the lonely. I see them clustered together and alone, clinging to a hope for somebody’s affection that does not come to pass. I hear them pray for the release that comes with death. I see them deprived and forgotten, masters yesterday, outcasts today.
What we owe the old is reverence, but all they ask for is consideration, attention, not to be discarded and forgotten. What they deserve is preference, yet we do not even grant them equality. One father finds it possible to sustain a dozen children, yet a dozen children find it impossible to sustain one father.
I’ll come back to this essay. In its indictment of a culture impatient of the elderly, resentful and grudging of the resources that will be needed to care for the old, it offers an altogether different vision – in which octogenarians go on doing a good job without their age being held against them.