Tag Archives: Lev Dodin

Into Culture: The Empty Space

For the last month we, the Senior Management Group of Bradford Cathedral, have been fine tuning the high-level vision document (read here) that was offered to the congregation and wider community with whom we have been listening and discerning at Pentecost. The process leading to this point has been long, intentional and in-depth. We have met with various groups of people from all levels of engagement and investment asking questions of perceived values and repeating patterns in the long history of the Cathedral. Some common threads became evident in our many discussions, positive and negative. The two main, negative stories that were told again and again were a narrative of scarcity and a narrative of being ‘passed by’/overlooked. Both need, I believe, hearing, tending to and transforming.

The narrative of scarcity can lead to two opposite outcomes: one is towards risk aversion, the other is the embrace of innovative use of resources. The narrative of being passed by can also lead towards two different options: the first is towards a lack of motivation, the alternative, to disregard the fear of judgement as no one is watching anyway. These dynamics will now, no doubt, be played out as we enter the next phase. We will need to reflect together on how we navigate between the two options and we respond to these named stories that we tell ourselves.

These narratives and their possible futures, mixed with the ongoing reflections about the way in which a cathedral engages in the cultural life of a 21st century, intercultural, UK city at a time of great social upheaval and change, have caused me to return to an old friend; Peter Brook’s, ‘The Empty Space’.

For long time readers of this blog you will know of my love for this book. Search for Peter Brook in the bar at the top and read over my reflections on ‘Theatre Church’ from way back in 2011 as I shaped my BA dissertation thesis on creative Christian communities. You can track how the theory behind my theatre making pre-2009 transitioned into my emerging Church leadership post 2012. You will see how I cited Brook’s writing on the power of theatre and its need for reform to continue to shape culture to explore how the Church too might reform to continue to also shape our culture.

For this month’s reflections, then, I turn to ‘The Empty Space’ and ask: how might we, at Bradford Cathedral, avoid ‘Deadly Mission’ and, instead, ensure we look always to ‘Holy Mission’?


Those two titles do not come from nowhere and are not my invention. Peter Brook begins his book by describing and exploring what he terms, ‘Deadly Theatre’. Yes, he does, at the simple level mean ‘bad theatre’ but what, in his mind, makes it ‘bad’? The whole chapter is a slow but achingly profound attack on commercialisation and capitalism at work in the 1960s. It is the way in which finance and economic need kills off risk in favour of secure ‘success’ and a return on investment. At times of scarcity, the money to pay for time to explore and develop meaningful and beautiful work becomes more contested and financiers want to limit the risk by ensuring that they’re able to make the books balance. This requires, therefore, a proven way to know what will attract the audience who will pay for the product put on sale and cover the cost of development. Art becomes a product to sell rather than a vehicle for re-enchantment and social transformation.

Deadliness always brings us back to repetition: the deadly director uses old formulae, old methods, old jokes, old effects… A deadly director is a director who brings no challenge to the conditioned reflexes that every department must contain.

Peter Brook, The Empty Space (London: Penguin Books, 1990) p.44

When money is tight there is little room to experiment. As part of our developing strategy at the Cathedral we have had to express an aim to be financially sustainable. It’s not the main headline but it is significant. We cannot do any of the exciting things we feel called to do if we cannot keep the lights on and the staff paid. This can lead, if we are not careful, however, to turn to that deadliness that, in the long run doesn’t excite or sustain the engagement of the ‘audience’ we long to inspire.

Lev Dodin, a brilliant director of the 20th century wrote about how his unsupported theatre company was enabled to create the inspiring work they did.

Failure… leads to quite artistic things, because if you are not afraid of failure you can try, you can experiment, you can search for new ways, whereas when you are afraid of failure you wouldn’t do it, you would do it the way you did it yesterday…

Lev Dodin in conversation with Robin Thornber at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 23rd April 1994, Michael Stronin (tr.), cited in Maria Delgado and Paul Heritage (eds.), In Contact With The Gods?: Directors Talk Theatre (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996) p74

Bradford Cathedral has a history of being an embodiment of that Yorkshire spirit of ‘make do and mend.’ Whether it is the pioneering way of recycling old bricks to reshape the building, evolving it for a new context, or using wool sacks to protect the tower against shelling during the civil war. We have never been an asset rich, or even a financially rich cathedral. We may never be a glitzy place with historic reserves on which to rely, but we have always shown ourselves, like the beautiful people of Bradford, as resilient survivors. Our history is a tale of scarcity, but we have chosen, at some key moments, to be innovative and creative with what we have.

I want our contributions to City of Culture to not be safe, secure and risk light. I do not believe that there is, at this time, such a thing. The tribute bands and the franchise installations that do the rounds across the various cathedrals are just as risky financially as well as reputationally, I personally believe, and so if we are going to take risks let’s do it properly and aim for something that doesn’t pretend to be lively but is actually full of life and connects an audience with something transcendent.

…the notion that the stage is a place where the invisible can appear has a deep hold on our thoughts.

Brook, The Empty Space, p.47

This is how the chapter on Holy Theatre begins. It is what I spoke to the gathered artists at the Outdoor Arts UK Conference earlier in the year. We can, at the Cathedral, return to being the place where the Invisible appears, because the rest of our culture has lost its confidence in the Invisible. Our worship, our concerts, our envisioned co-productions should all be shaped by our pursuit to be embodiments of that Invisible Truth to which we commit our lives. Brook describes the work of Jerzy Grotowski, who I also have reflected on previously (read here).

The theatre, he believes, cannot be an end in itself… the theatre is a vehicle, a means of self-study, self-exploration, a possibility of salvation… the act of performance is an act of sacrifice, of sacrificing what most men [sic] prefer to hide – this sacrifice is his gift to the spectator.

Brook, The Empty Space, p.66-67

I see, in our vision at Bradford Cathedral, an opportunity to be an exciting workshop for the re-enchantment of the cultural life of Bradford and, in time, the UK and the world. We have expressed our ambitious aims to be reaching out to the world and encouraging experiences within our space of encounter with the Holy Truth. This is not just aesthetic beauty of the well performed choral music for which we strive or the excellent engagement with heritage and history that we wish to continue to develop but to be a place where new expressions will be forged giving people fresh insights into who they were created to be.

Interestingly, Peter Brook discusses Coventry Cathedral situated in the City of Culture 2021/2.

In Coventry, for instance, a new cathedral has been built, according to the best recipe for achieving a noble result. Honest, sincere artists, the ‘best’, have been grouped together to make a civilised stab at celebrating God and Man and Culture and Life through the collective act. So there is a new building, fine ideas, beautiful glass work – only the ritual is threadbare. Those Ancient and Modern hymns, charming perhaps in a little country church, those numbers on the wall, those dog collars and the lessons – they are sadly inadequate here. The new place cries out for a new ceremony, but of course it is the new ceremony that should have come first.

Brook, The Empty Space, p.50-51

I have ambitions to create within the historic space of the Cathedral an expectation that whoever comes in, for whatever reason, may be struck by the Invisible-Made-Visible. It is this incarnational mission that requires little speech but an enactment of intentional ritual and experience, a public spectacle of true sacrifice that all society yearns for in their deepest being, that will make us more accessible, more visible and more sustainable as we seek to weave Jesus into the rich fabric of the city and beyond. It is this striving towards Holy and not Deadly worship and mission that, I believe, will change the narrative of the Cathedral, Bradford and the world.

Chapter 27: the abbot’s care of the excommunicated

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The abbot must show great concern for the wayward brother

How do we deal with failure?

I am always amazed when a football team doesn’t do very well and the Manager is called to resign or step down. There was a period a few years ago when it seemed like the moment a team lost a game they’d change their Manager! The same is true in politics. Sometimes these removals from roles is for the best but other times it is a knee jerk reaction to the experience of ‘failure’.

Failure is not allowed in our culture. It is a sign of weakness and our survival depends on us “winning” (as Charlie Sheen put it). The problem is, of course, we’re not perfect… not even me (particularly not me!) Sooner or later we’re going to make a mistake and if we live in a climate of fear about failure it becomes increasingly stressful the more you have success because the more you succeed the higher the stakes are and the further you have to fall.

I want to reflect on a very local issue for me for a moment.

The Leader of the City of York Council, Cllr. James Alexander, has been in post since 2011 and has been on a mission to deal with long standing issues in the city. One of these long standing issues is congestion. Being a small city with historic walls surrounding the central area and a large amount of pedestrian precincts for tourists and shopping, our roads in York get clogged very quickly. There are some who could use public transport more (or cycle) allowing many necessary drivers to get where they need to go in the city. The problem is, no one is willing to admit that they don’t need to drive.

To attempt to do something about it, James Alexander, after discussion, instigated a trial to close Lendal Bridge, a prominent transport passageway across the River Ouse. It was always going to be controversial and it was always going to be complicated to communicate the change but the Council faced an onslaught of criticism. There were some (like myself) who had no strong views either way but were willing to see the trial through and ride the wave of discomfort experienced in any sharp change. The criticism did not cease and many people were penalised with the fine used to police and enforce the restriction.

Cynics went out in force to accuse the council, and James Alexander personally, of attempting to increase their pay packets by gathering the money accumulated by the fines. Everyone had a personal story of why they needed to drive through the zone at a given time and the fine was a sign that the council were heartless and un-compassionate.

At the end of the trial, the cynics and opposers had managed to sustain their complaint and continued to demand a retraction of the restriction. The council decided to extend it further and promised to revisit the issue. There was strong opposition on the grounds that the way the council had enforced the restriction was unlawful and the council reversed their decision, opening the bridge for traffic.

James Alexander had failed! The only just action was for him to leave office with his head down and admit that everything he thinks and does is wrong. His opponents could then, in the glory of being right step in and take on the role of power.

I have to admit a personal interest in this. I respect James Alexander. I don’t agree with all his choices. I could name some of his failings and mistakes but I have always felt that he has deep desire to serve the people of York and to keep promises he made in an election. I also happen to like an opponent of his, the previous head of the council, Lib Dem councillor Andrew Waller. Andrew and I sit in many meetings together and continue to work together. So James’ failure is Andrew’s success.

After the re-opening of the bridge the council agreed to repay the fines, after advice from an outside agency was involved. This was the ultimate admission that the whole closure was a mistake and must have been deeply embarrassing for James and his councillors. I was more upset, however, when his opponents were not satisfied with his embarrassment but wanted his resignation. It was never just about this particular issue it was about the annihilation of an opponent!

Mistakes are made. Failures happen. I am reminded of an interview with Russian theatre director, Lev Dodin when he said,

Failure… leads to quite artistic things, because if you are not afraid of failure you can try, you can experiment, you can search for new ways, whereas when you are afraid of failure you wouldn’t do it, you would do it the way you did it yesterday… (Lev Dodin in conversation with Robin Thornber at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 23rd April 1994, Michael Stronin (tr.), cited in Maria Delgado and Paul Heritage (eds.), ‘In Contact With The Gods?: Directors Talk Theatre’ (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996) p74)

In an interview, James Alexander admitted his mistake and explained he was trying to solve a problem that continues today; that of congestion. He asked for the alternatives to eleviate this problem and promised to search for the solution. The interviewer was not satisfied and pressed him to acknowledge his embarrassment further and even decide to resign.

I felt for him. Over the last two years I have got to know James a little bit and I know how much he cares about his work. I get tired of cynics. Cycnicism is yet another sickness our culture suffers from. It is addictive and damaging. It kills hope and encourages bitterness and resentment. It stems from a competitive spirit which engulfs us and brings nothing but death. There are some in the city of York who seem to be particularly cynical and spiteful. The way people speak of public figures is violent and horrible. The pressure felt by many of those who try and serve the citizens is immeasurable and I feel for them. I long to be able to help them in their distress. No one deserves the sort of treatment they receive at times.

Imagine that every time you make a mistake people turned round and dismissed you, stopped talking to you and forced you to give up parts of your life. Imagine that you upset a partner and you were forced to leave your home and children. Imagine if you upset a colleague at work and were forced to leave your job. It is easy to get rid of someone who has succumb to weakness or made a mistake. This is an easy punishment but this is not excommunication!

In this chapter it is made clear that excommunication is aimed to be a temporary state where the abbot can give his utmost care for a member of the community who is struggling. This is not about enforcing more embarrassment and pain. It is not about taking some strange pleasure in rubbing salt into a wound. This is about caring for ‘the sick’.

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The church is for sinners

St. Benedict quotes Matthew’s gospel,

those who are well do not need the physician, but those who are sick. (Mt 9:12)

In their chapter on the Church in ‘Red Letter Christianity: living the words of Jesus no matter what’ (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2012), Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo quickly begin talking about hypocrisy,

[SHANE:]Here’s what I’ve come to realize: people do not expect Christians to be perfect, but they do expect us to be honest. The problem is that much of the time, we have not been honest. We’ve pretended to be perfect and pointed fingers at other people.

[TONY:]While Saint Francis recognized the church’s failures and hypocrisies, he still saw it as a community of faith where Christ could be encountered. When young people say to me, “I can’t be a part of the church because the church is full of hypocrites,” I always say, “That’s why you are going to feel right at home among us.”… In the end, we’re all hypocrites.

I’m always struck by the issue Jesus tackled lots: hypocrisy. He does not condemn the Pharisees. He never sought to destroy them or eliminate them; he always sought to name the issue – hypocrisy. The Pharisees were not un-saveable, beyond redemption; they were sick like everyone else and Jesus named their sickness. Jesus loved and respected them and wanted to see the Pharisees flourish. Jesus says that many of the Pharisees are close to the Kingdom of God (Mk 12:28-34).

It is easy to dismiss failures but harder to live with them because when we see them being forgiven and redeemed by God and are forced to ask,

Can I too be forgiven?

It is easier to condemn than to hold and seek healing. It is easier to end suffering with a quick decision than wait and seek surprising hope. This is my ultimate issue with the Assisted Dying Bill; it’s easier to die than to hope. I do not blame those who suffer great pain to want it all to end ‘now’; I know that desire to succumb to the abyss for it surely is a comfort compared with the searing pain of this life. If you look around you and there is nothing to live for why bother? Why continue?

I’ll finish on a painful and personal truth: I often ask if it would not be better just to end my life. What a mess the world is in. How much pain I cause without even knowing it. All my attempts at improvement fall and I am weak. If there is no hope of me achieving the perfection which is demanded upon me then I should end it all now. I feel this in the darkest points of the night. I feel the desire of the countless number of people who look at this world and the failures of us all and think we should just end it all now; why wait?

It is not compassionate to agree and encourage that action. Compassion is acknowledging that thought, feeling that pain and the reality of that desire but, to be Christian is to proclaim hope. To look at the world through a different lens. The lens of Christ says it is worth holding on. It is worth the wait.

I was deeply struck by Lord Falconer’s response to the church requesting a Royal Charter to look into the issues raised by the Assisted Dying Bill. Falconer is quoted as saying, that the matter must be discussed urgently.

Why rush? The same was said two years ago in General Synod about women being allowed to become bishops; in the impatience of a motion we rushed it and it fell. Now, after time and facilitated discussion a better, strong case is formed and led to healthy commitment to one another.

Reflection

Yes it’s easy to push ourselves and others into the abyss of rejection and loss but that is not what God does to us. He judges us but commits to the healing and redemption as well. He will not reject nor abandon us in our weakness, hypocrisies or failures. He knows that failures shape most of what we do and that fear is crippling. He speaks hope of renewal and new life to us; that is the Christian message.

For my friend James Alexander I say, ‘Do not be afraid. God gives you a second chance and you’re still loved.”

To those struggling in the temptation of making a clean break and retreating from those they have disappointed or let down, either through moving or death, I say, “Do not be afraid. God is the Good Shepherd and he will find you, wherever you run to, and he will comfort you and restore you.”

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us sinners.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 4: the instruments of good works

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…If we always remember and use them, and give them up only on Judgement Day, the Lord shall reward us as he promised…

How do we live this?

How we could meditate and reflect on each of the 72 ‘instruments’ independently and bear much fruit from doing so. Many more experienced and suitable scholars and practitioners have divided this lists of thoughts up into manageable chunks and I commend them to you (search for them online). I, however, want to continue my more general reflections on reading the chapters of the Rule of St. Benedict and this week I will try and voice my overview of this chapter. I must remind you, the reader, and myself of my task in doing these reflections: I am wanting to discern how monasticism may factor into parish ministry and what that approach to the life of faith, lived out by monks/nuns, has to say to those outside traditional monastic communities.

With that in mind my first thought about this chapter is how overwhelming each short ‘command’ is. Few of them don’t leave a mark of some description on my conscience and all of them challenge the state of my inner life. To hold them all and to ‘always remember and use them’ is an added challenge and I could easily stop reading the Rule of St. Benedict until that is obeyed but I continue to feel as I pray through this reading that there is an understanding of grace that is rarely mentioned but is necessary if this life is to be lived.

We have explored before the basic premise that we begin the spiritual life, humbled by God, our ultimate Master and Judge. That we throw ourselves on His mercy and from there be thankful for the work He does in our lives. Through this lens, reading these 72 commandments is like the Sermon on the Mount in that you are forced to ask,

How can we be saved?

Surely all of these are impossible to sustain and achieve.

The reply to that feeling is it does indeed seem impossible to achieve all of this on our own, for your own benefit. This sense of futility is another invitation to enter into humility and stand in the strength of God’s mercy and grace alone. Let’s be honest we all need a daily dose of grounding in the true state of our humanness.

I was reminded this week of our tendency to err on the side of one of two extremes when it comes to self-analysis: either we see ourselves as complete failures, deserving of nothing but the destruction that comes from our own mistakes and characters, or we deserve all privileges and ‘blessings’ for we are wonderfully and fearfully made. Neither of these are quite correct on their own. We should be mindful of both our inherent ability to self-destruct and to hurt others in the process whilst holding onto the truth of the gospel; God is merciful and just and His steadfast love endures forever.

It may be my Roman Catholic upbringing but I have preference to speak of my sin, my dirty junk that I carry in my life. I seek out punishment for the blatant and harmful mistakes I make. I call others to balance the current popular notion that human beings are essentially good and we are the solutions to our own problems. Despite my counter-cultural proclamations against humanist philosophy I cling to grace.

Bono was quoted as saying,

You see, at the center of all religions is the idea of Karma. You know, what you put out comes back to you: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, or in physics—in physical laws—every action is met by an equal or an opposite one. It’s clear to me that Karma is at the very heart of the universe. I’m absolutely sure of it. And yet, along comes this idea called Grace to upend all that “as you reap, so you will sow” stuff. Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff…I’d be in big trouble if Karma was going to finally be my judge. I’d be in deep s—. It doesn’t excuse my mistakes, but I’m holding out for Grace. I’m holding out that Jesus took my sins onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to depend on my own religiosity. (Bono, excerpt from, ‘Bono: in conversation with Michka Assayas’, Christianity Today, January 28th 2014, http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2005/augustweb-only/bono-0805.html?paging=off)

If I am to read, and even begin to attempt to live out, all 72 instruments of good works then I’m going to have to know grace and to trust it.

For all of my readers who err on the side of seeing themselves as ‘junk’: judgement is not from you but God, the merciful Judge, and if you call on the name of Jesus, that Judge will look on Him instead of you. You will be judged with Christ.

For all my readers who err on the humanist side seeing themselves as their own solution and to continue to try and live the perfect life all by yourself: you will be judged in that way. If you live by karma you will be allowed to be judged by karma… I wish you well.

If a community is going to embrace the message of the gospel of Christ then each member should follow Christ’s example and obey His commands fully trusting and knowing that discipleship is done in the strength of grace and mercy and nothing else. Without a message of grace then all ‘good work’ is rendered moot.
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The Seclusion of the Monastery

Aside from reflecting on the necessity of grace whilst living the life of faith and growing in the spiritual discipline of conquering our own thoughts; I was struck by the final sentence of the chapter,

But the workshop in which we must diligently perform all these things is the seclusion of the monastery and our stability in the community.

For those of us not based within a secluded monastery, living and breathing a monastic life, this final sentence leads us to feel even more stranded. It is true that in order to diligently perform all these things you need to give yourself time and space. Everday life does not lend itself to spiritual discipline. Why not? From my experience there’s no ‘let up’.

When we begin any new hobby or craft or practice, we need the space and time to allow the inevitable failures to happen. One does not pick up a violin and become Niccolo Paganini, it takes work and failures to develop sustainable skill and aptitude. In the busyness of everyday and in our culture so afraid of failure we are called to be in control of our development. There’s no forgiveness for not attaining maturity overnight; one is either mature or not, there seems to be no process encouraged.

A true community is like a loving family; each member is allowed to grow and develop over time. Forgiveness should offered continually and inter-generational leading is encouraged. Those that have been through the early stages of frustration and mistakes must encourage and support the novices. True community, based on the humility being encouraged through the Rule of St. Benedict and the grace at the heart of Christian faith, is a place where failures are not only expected but encouraged for,

Failure… leads to quite artistic things, because if you are not afraid of failure you can try, you can experiment, you can search for new ways, whereas when you are afraid of failure you wouldn’t do it, you would do it the way you did it yesterday… (Lev Dodin in conversation with Robin Thornber at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 23rd April 1994, Michael Stronin (tr.), cited in Maria Delgado and Paul Heritage (eds.), ‘In Contact With The Gods?: Directors Talk Theatre’ (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996) p74)

Where is such space in parish ministry? How do we encourage this approach to life together? My BA dissertation* explored this idea in great detail (now is not the time to outline my proposal. If you would like to know more contact me and let’s chat!)

Reflection

As we grow into a deeper spiritual life we must hold onto one thing, grace, and seek out another, community. With these two things we can begin to live out the Kingdom of God to which we have all been called.

I suspect most of us shy away from a deep acceptance of grace and resist a deep experience of community. I wonder what a focus on these two concepts and experiences would do to a parish church? I wonder what transformation or revelations would occur if a parish church scrapped all other activity and committed to a life governed by these two principles?

Most Merciful Judge, thank You for Your grace. Thank You that I am judged not on the law of karma but the law of grace. lead me to experience community which holds me, as I am to grow into Your likeness and to only cease in that search on Judgement Day, when You will look on Christ and pardon me.

Come, Lord Jesus.

*The title was, ‘The Divine Collective: how modern ensemble theatre practice can help establish creative Christian communities.’