Tag Archives: placement

Chapter 64: election of the abbot

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He must be knowledgeable in Divine Law so as to know when to “bring forth new things and old”

Should we be trained and ordained locally?

I have written a lot on leadership and ordained ministry on my journey through the Rule of St Benedict. As I read this chapter on the election of an abbot I can see some of my own personal journey to ordained ministry in it but there are differences which mainly focus on the Benedictine understanding of leadership within a local context. It calls me to ask questions about our understanding of leadership:

Is it better to be called from and to a local community? Should we be training people to serve in their local church?

Currently in the Church of England one is called to ordained ministry to the national Church. It is the laity, on the whole, who are called to the local church. There is a growing sense, however, of the local call of ordained ministers with the rise of training programs offered by St Mellitus and St Barnabas Centres and other local training courses. I have mixed views about these.

I still fundamentally believe that residential training for ordained ministry is the ideal due to the opportunities and space for deep reflections and theological study. The local training is fantastic in preparing deacons and priests for the practical work of ministry but, from conversations with those trained in these ways, there is little time and space given for the possibility of adaptation and growth in personal theologies.

For me training was done in the common room where I learnt to hear opposing views of theology in the context of a lived out community. There was little escape from having to eat and serve those who you disagreed vehemently with. It was in the common room experience where I learnt the practical way to love in disagreement; something the Church of England desperately needs to explore and work out.

The residential model of training does leave gaps in training particularly, as I say, in the more practical experience of leading, preaching and long term pastoral work and mentoring. Yes, curacy picks up these gaps but expectation gives little room for mistake and genuine learning on that. The local forms of training, with the long term placements of over two/three years, give more space to learn such skills.

It is here that the difference between monks and ordained ministers in the Church of England must remain distinct. A monk chooses stability and their life is one dedicated to a community over their life time. Clergy dedicate themselves to itinerant ministry going where God calls them. Their stability is to the order of deacon and priest and to the institutional church.

Treasures Old and New

Having reflected on how an abbot is chosen in Chapter 2: the qualities of the abbot, I was struck, when reading this chapter, the instruction that an abbot ‘must be knowledgable of Divine Law so as to know when to “bring forth new things and old” (Matthew 13:52).’

This passage from Matthew was used for the title of a conference which gathered traditional and emerging communities within the Anglican tradition (Treasures Old and New). The couple of days in Whitby earlier last year was an important gathering for those of us who are sensing a movement of the Holy Spirit to a renewal of religious life in different forms.

I was sad not to be able to make it to these days but continue to hear from many of my friends who went about what God is beginning to reveal amongst us. I have had the privilege of journeying with many of those present and gaining from the wisdom gleaned together.

The title says something important for me of where God is speaking to us in the Church of England.

As I wrote in Parish Monasticism: a conference, I have an unsettling feeling about our current culture within the Church to create new groupings, new labels, to be new, fresh, relevant, cutting edge, etc. Yes, God creates and brings new things to birth but for me new comes from the old. I said,

In our desire to be relevant to the present, I feel, we have sold our inheritance and we have no sight on our descendants.

I am deeply concerned that we are throwing babies out with bath water in our desperation to remain in step with the world. The Church, particularly the Anglican Church, is feeling much pressure to keep up with the world, its ‘wisdom’ and its progress. We make knee jerk responses to questions and challenges posed by the people outside the Church, whom we serve in love. We have a selective replacement theology in every wing of our broad family, and a view of Jesus as someone who came and said,

So that Jewish thing hasn’t really worked, so let’s start again.

Yes, Jesus preached a ‘new’ commandment but ‘new’ is ironic because what he preaches is right at the heart of the Hebrew Scriptures: Love God, love your neighbour.

The sound system in one of our churches was quite old and temperamental and there had been cries for a new one for over four years. I had often joined with these calls to throw this old system out and get a brand new one. I was asked to look at the system and make some recommendations. In looking at it and studying it careful I realised that it was perfectly fine as it was. The problems stemmed from not using it right. The wrong cables were plugged into the wrong inputs and the speakers are not powerful enough for the amplifiers but when you use the system as it is meant to be used it works well. The problem was we wanted to throw it out and get a brand new one without asking the question: are we using it right?

I think there’s a similar problem with the Church.

We are not spending enough time thinking and studying how the Church is meant to work and we all presume it’s no longer fit for purpose. In fact, I think a lot of what the Fresh Expressions movement has discovered is what we knew before but had forgotten. The New Monastic movement (or whatever name you want to give it) has discovered what Martin Luther and Dietrich Bonhoeffer and many others already identified.

This does not mean that I am suggesting blindly clinging to the old, the fatal choice to remain faithful to a potentially sinking ship. There is much need of re-newing and discovering how God is adapting his plans to accommodate the world’s freely chosen direction. The world is changing and we can’t allow our world to become so alien to us that we can no longer communicate with it. Jesus shows us God is a being who loves us enough to enter into our lostness in order to be with us and save us. We must go to where people are, often places and situations where the Church has not been before because people have not been before.

The danger is allowing the new situations to change who we are in Christ. The danger, as it has always been, is to return to the life of the flesh and darkness when we have been given a life in the Spirit and of light.

I have been reading the biography of Oscar Romero and the following quote sums up what I feel God calling me to say in this generation,

The Church, then, is in an hour of aggiornamento, that is, of crisis in its history. And as in all aggiornamenti, two antagonistic forces emerge: on the one hand, a boundless desire for novelty, which Paul VI described as “arbitrary dreams of artificial renewals”; and on the other hand, an attachment to the changelessness of the forms with which the Church has clothed itself over the centuries and a rejection of the character of modern times. Both extremes sin by exaggeration. Unconditional attachment to what is old hampers the Church’s progress and restricts its “catholicity”… The boundless spirit of novelty is an impudent exploration of what is uncertain, and at the same time unjustly betrays the rich heritage of past experiences… So as not to fall into either the ridiculous position of uncritical affection for what is old, or the ridiculous position of becoming adventurers pursuing “artifical dreams” about novelties, the best thing is to live today more than ever according to the classic axiom: think with the Church. (Oscar Romero quoted in Morrozzo Della Rocca, Roberto, Oscar Romero: prophet of hope (London: Dalton, Longman and Todd, 2015) p.22-23)

Reflection

At this point in the Church of England’s history with so many questions over our inner polity and interactions with the world in mission, we desperately need leaders who are knowledgable of Divine Law, who are virtuous, sober and merciful, prudent, moderate and humble. Above all of these things spiritual men and women who are wise in administering the Rule of Life for all disciples. Servants of the gospel who can bring forth treasures old and new so that the Kingdom of God can establish itself amongst us.

Loving Father, the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of your children who grow in the likeness of your Son are who are led by your Spirit. You did not give a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear but you gave us a spirit of adoption to future glory. Elect men and women from amongst us who will guide us through temptations and live out a stable and pure life.

Come Lord Jesus

Parish Monasticism: an update

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Suscipe me, Domine, secundum eloquium tuum, et vivam; 
et non confundas me ab expectatione mea.

Receive me, O Lord, according to your word, and I shall live: and let me not be ashamed of my hope.

I started this blog at the end of 2013 as a learning project. I had no plans of what I would learn but would journal an intentional study programme of the Rule of St Benedict. I called is ‘Parish Monasticism?’ The question mark was important as I didn’t know if such a concept would work or be helpful to frame my reflections.

Well, 1 year and 9 months later and ‘Parish Monasticism’ is a thing! Who’d have thought it. By ‘a thing’ I mean other people are using the term independent from me. I had a parish priest who met me at a training event early this year use it and ask if I had heard of the idea. I asked him where he had heard it and he told me he had been told about it by a friend and that there was a Facebook group called ‘Parish Monasticism’ (no question mark). It’s funny how things develop…

I began this blog with a hunch; a hunch and a challenge laid down by Rev. Pete Askew at the Northumbria Community during a placement I did at Nether Springs in Felton. He said to me,

It’s impossible to live the way of life we live here at Nether Springs and be a parish priest. You’d have to be very stubborn to achieve it.

I don’t know if it is my stubbornness or something else but an increasing number of parish priests and ministers are not only discovering the benefits of monastic principles to ministry but also feel a sense that God is calling them to commit to the location in an intentional, communal way with other disciples.

This is at the heart of what ‘parish monasticism’ is, I feel. What I’ve been discovering in theory and, only in some parts, in practise is a way to effectively minister and transform neighbourhoods and communities through these basic monastic principles. No, it’s more than that. Parish monasticism is about reformation of the parish system to an explicit commitment to discipleship. I’ve discovered that the lack of effective mission and evangelism is a result of faulty discipleship. As I wrote before,

If a community is not engaged in mission then their discipleship is faulty; mission is the fruit of the tree of discipleship. There is no point in just forcing a community to ‘do mission’ and expect it to work. It would be better to go back to the basics of discipleship, correcting that and the fruit of mission will grow. You judge discipleship by the mission. (Ned Lunn, ‘Chapter 49: observance of lent’, Parish Monasticism? (Jan 17th 2015))

As the Church we have lost sight, as it did in Germany before World War II, of the cost of discipleship. Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s observations and reflections on the antidote to this is what has fuelled the New Monastic movement and I think we are now beginning to discover that it must be planted within the parish system.

It must be within the parish system because there is something deeply counter-cultural for the increasingly urbanised 21st century Britain where transport is easy and more people consume worship and community rather than create/live it. Where we have no strength to withstand the temptation to make everything into our own image and just as we want it we justify or sanctify our freedom to choose where we go and what we do/allow in our lives. The parish system challenges that ego-centric part of each and everyone of us who refuses to allow something external to change our inner life.

This journey of discovery has unearthed the interconnected roots of the saints of old who speak so clearly to me; St Aidan, Thomas Merton, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Shane Claiborne to name a few. In focussing my reflections I have discovered a call deep down within me that sings of a theology rooted in Ash Wednesday and the creation story; we are made of dust, we must fully grasp humility and acknowledge we are nothing without the tender touch of our Loving Father God, humanity needs transformation and grace. From this root it grows into an acceptance of God’s mercy and love reaching out to lift us up from humble beginnings to healing and salvation as God adopts us and works on us so we can conform to His Son, the perfection of humanity, Jesus Christ. When we give ourselves totally to this process of redemption in every part of our life He seals us with His Holy Spirit to equip us for the task of heralding in His Kingdom in our lives and the lives of those around us like the first discipleship at Pentecost.

It all begins with humility.

It all demands obedience.

It all leads to community.

Parish monasticism, for me, is an emerging call to intentional, radical discipleship that seeks to convert our entire life to that of Jesus and heals us of our capitalist consumer, neoliberal culture that Stanley Hauerwas critiqued 34 years ago. Are we willing to be a stumbling block to both poles of the political and moral map found in the UK today? Parish monasticism is not about being ‘relevant’ which is banded about so much, it is about being faithful to the distinctive call to follow Christ who came to heal and healing means things change! We look at the complexities and crisis facing us on every side of our world today and we keep kidding ourselves that we know how to solve them: we don’t! We desperately want our situation to change but Jesus changes situations by changing us… and that means you and me.

Thomas Merton, who I return to whenever I reflect on our self-identity crisis in our society, continues to inform me,

The reason we hate one another and fear one another is that we secretly or openly hate and fear our own selves. And we hate ourselves because the depths of our being are a chaos of frustration and spiritual misery. Lonely and helpless, we cannot be at peace with others because we are not at peace with ourselves, and we cannot be at peace with ourselves because we are not at peace with God. (Thomas Merton, The Living Bread (London: Burns and Oates, 1976) p.9)

This is the root of our problem. This is where real conversion and deep discipleship works out the healing and salvation of God’s grace, mercy and love for us.

So let us humbly acknowledge our total need for change. Let us obediently follow our healer’s instruction towards salvation and let us be adopted, by grace, into his family and live in true peace with him, ourselves and with others.

A Bell Tolls

Just come back from a placement with the Northumbria Community. This time has been so affirming and essential to my personal journey I haven’t felt able to write any reflections here. I return so excited about my call and refreshed in passion for life.

I did write a poem whilst on placement as part of a short retreat led by the community and I thought I could at least share that. It is a form of ‘beat’ poetry. I was fortunate and privileged to be asked to participate in the Beat Eucharist at Greenbelt Festival this year and it involved writing several poetic, prayers/ sermons/’prophetic’ rants. I have begun to use this poetic style to express myself. The thing I find helpful is it is like a train of consciousness and allows my web style thinking to be expressed in a linear format.

A Bell Tolls

A bell tolls in the distant sky, rings out a call to consider, contemplate, to cry out to Christ our King, a call to climb out of the cave and into intercessory prayer, where, we care, despair, tear down the walls of separation, segregation and sanitation of our own pleas. Here we join with voices echoing out through time, space, history and in this wind swept landscape of solitude our sighs sing with the Psalmist who says: “From aching pit of my dark, dank, daunting depths a soul shattering scream, a piercing pitch capable of breaking the sinews of any hearer, echoes out to you the Spirit source of unspeakable prayers. Can you hear it, my God? Can you feel it, my Lord? Listen! Listen to this broken, brittle, barefoot disciple of Yours, this minuscule amount of matter, turn Your gaze on my meagre matter. If you, Faultless Father, should mark, record, consider, remember my shaken steps of sinful saintliness, steps so steeped in self-centredness, steps in sands swept by sea-sent cyclones, steps mis-placed, mis-directed, misshapen, missed the mark, who could stand? Who could stand? Who could bear the shame so solid, so dense it’s hard to stand?”1 Stories of saints standing on islands swept by sea salt sent from Scotland to speak of peace,
gentleness,
authenticity,
prayerful presence in pagan lads, piece by piece, person by person, preaching, proclaiming grace.
Grace.
God-sent, God-glorifying giants of faith humbly humming harmonies of hope home to hearts of helpless, hardened, harsh inhabitants. The balance of life; cell to connacle, alone to others, monastery to mission, Aidan praying: “Leave me alone with my Lord as much as may be, As the intemperate tide draws the tempestuous waters close into the shore, make me an island, set apart, solitary with You, God, holy. And then, with the turning of the tide, teach me to take your presence to the tired, time orientated tribes beyond. The world where world weary eyes weep, the world that wants me, calls me, rushes in on me till the timely tide treads again across the causeway and folds me back to you.”2 My poem intercepted, interspersed, interacting with Psalms and prayers, where their voice stops mine begin unbroken beats bubbling up behind bold but barren beliefs. Their story, spirituality seeping so softly into my spirit. “The Sacred Three our blessing be.”3 Songs sewing us together, stories stitching us into one sign of God’s faithfulness. “Encircle us, Lord.”4 Secure our steps on these trodden paths. “Come wind, Come rain, Come pelting storm, Whatever it may be. Be my shield, my refuge, Come walk beside me.”5 Songs of praises, shouts of Psalms, unstoppable strength sourced from the stream of solitude.
A bell tolls,
for friendship, food, fellowship in our Faithful, Faultless Father, bearing fruit of enfleshed favour of Him who send us out from refectory to road. Clear, distinct and yet the same. “I love to serve”6 you, my guest, Christ in the other, at home, hospitality, being available for you, my guest, Christ in the other and away, availability for you, my host, Christ in the other. “Don’t wash my feet!” “I must.”7 He says humbly inviting humility in my heart. Availability leading to Vulnerability.8 Open to other’s honesty, questions of motive, critique of meaning but all the time testing, refining, eyes of others, eyes of Him. Who could stand? Who could stand? “With Him there is assurance, steadfast, shame-reversing passion and with Him there’s the source of strength to stand!”9 Stand alone on distant islands, hopeful hermit. Stand with others reluctantly in refectory, faithful friend. Stand for others in King’s courts, ancient apostle. Stand in the shadow of Celtic saints, ride the rule, the regulus, the rhythm of prayer everywhere. Stand, sing, shout,
whisper words of wholeness to a world weary of religious rhetoric.
Recite the written stories, the spoken stories of ancient times afresh. A bell tolls in the distant sky, rings out a call to stop,
silence,
sit with saints,
stop.

1. a poetic re-hash of Psalm 130: 1-3
2. a poetic re-hash of the prayer of St. Aidan (why not read the Monasticism and Ascesticism posts)
3. from a song used as ‘grace’ at meal times in Northumbria Community.
4. from a song used by Northumbria Community.
5. from a song I sang whilst walking.
6. a phrase that had led to a conversation with one of the guests on retreat.
7. from John 13:8.
8. The two aspects of the Rule of Life for the Northumbria Community.
9 a poetic re-hash of Psalm 130:4.


In The Minster (part IV)

I was in marketing for five years but wanted to do something away from computer screens.

After the decision to find her vocation Vic started her training which began with a residential course which gave her an academic foundation for her work. After two years she was placed in an apprentice scheme which enabled her to put into practice the theory of her previous study.

Those first few months were both exciting and scary. The work demanded so much of me; physically and emotionally… It highlighted my weaknesses and that’s always frustrating but slowly I grew stronger and more confident of my capabilities.

Vic now stands at the top of the East Window of York Minster painstakingly restoring old, decayed stones and sometimes replacing the ones who have ‘passed on’ with new, fresh ones. She washes stones that have been mistreated by past conservers and lovingly restoring stones left to the elements.

The truth is the similarities in the training of stone masons and of clergy is by no means the end of the parallels. I was struck as I walked round the workshops how much the two vocations speak to each other. The attitude and commitment towards their work, the holistic impact the work has on the person and the humility developed by working in a tradition established over centuries and the call to play a part in building the legacy further, all map one onto the other.

I want to acknowledge first the clear connections between working with the Tadcaster stone in restoring a building like the Minster and working with the ‘living stones’ that make up the Church of God. I want to briefly highlight the loving care that a stone mason takes over one stone to make it sing with beauty and the call for us as ministers to spend time in helping a child of God sing of God’s beauty in them. All these connections are wonderful and amazing but I want to hone in on the masons themselves.

Dave showed me round the Stoneyard with a quiet and generous spirit. He took me to meet John, a man who has worked for 30 years with the Minster. He knows this building, its history, its quirks. He can predict the anomalies in the design before anyone else. He can tell, from looking at a stone whether it is an original or a stone from one of the many restorations over its long history (and which restoration it’s from!) When I asked him,

So, you must be something of an expert of the building?

I don’t feel like one. Every day I learn something more about the building. In some sense I’m always an apprentice.

What a beautiful sentiment. Even those who have worked for so long in building the Church should understand themselves always as an apprentice.

Dave then took me down to look at the untouched stone which will soon be prepared to go into the colossal building over the road. He told me about yellow veins. The yellow veins are the places where the rock hasn’t bonded together in the ground. One strike of a chisel and the whole piece will break into two. He took me into his workshop and showed me one stone that he has been carving for six weeks.

At anytime I could come across a yellow vein. I won’t know until it’s too late.

Six weeks work could come to nothing as the rock gives up and breaks.

It really humbles you. Every chip has the excitement and fear. Could this be the time it breaks… You’re no longer in control.

There’s no amount of technical training that will develop Dave into a mason who will never find a yellow vein in his work. He can learn all things and still be at the mercy of the complex and hidden forces that have got that piece of rock to that place at that time. There’s an element of trust on something that is beyond him.

He showed me the plans of that stone. A necessarily detailed design which he needed to follow to the letter or the building would be unstable because of that one stone. I asked him about the sense of connection with the masons of the past who carved the original design in the stone.

I’m just one mason in a long line of masons who have been involved in this building. It’s like they speak to us through the stones. It’s hard to explain… I can look at a stone in the Cathedral and get a sense of what that individual mason was feeling or what kind of day he may have been having when he carved his stone. We’re connected over the centuries… in a way.

I guess that makes your work seem dauntingly important.

I asked.

Yes to know that in centuries time some mason of the future looks at this stone I’m carving now and can tell so much about how I approached the stone. Makes you think about your attitude to the work, kind of calming yourself down before picking up your tools.

As a future member of a priesthood given the authority and responsibility of Holy Orders, I too will be joining a long line of priests who have gone before me. The difference for me as a priest is my legacy won’t be as tangible as Dave’s. That connection with tradition, however, does help me appreciate the need to prepare every time I minister to God’s people, for my attitude will affect how that ‘stone’ is, in response to my care.

I was then shown into the carver’s workshop. Here is where the intricate detailing is done. The two men stopped their work and asked me lots of questions about my training. After each stage was described they nodded and exclaimed,

That’s just like us.

They are clearly excited about the connections between their work on the outside and the work of the clergy inside the building. I asked them whether the Stoneyard is like a family.

Yes with all the family issues. We have rows.

Dave chipped in,

One of the masons, Les, is ill at the moment and we all take it in turns to visit him and help each other out to cover his work.

The problems usually occur when someone has an opinion about how you should handle a particular stone. But if you just concentrate on the stone you’ve been given responsibility for then we all support each other. Does that make sense?

How we as a Church could learn from that sentiment. As a parish priest I will be given responsibility and care for a small section of the Kingdom. We enter into disputes when everyone steps above their station and takes on the role of oversight of the whole building too soon. There’s a call to trust in those in authority knowing that it’s, by far the most difficult jobs. I witnessed that in Synod early this week; so many members, given half a chance, want to tell fellow workers how they should and shouldn’t treat their stones. The ‘masons’ questioning those who have been given the difficult task of keeping track of the meta-narrative and in a way taking their eyes off their stone. I remember John, up in the studio, pawing over the plans of the whole building knowing each stone but in relation to the much bigger building. Being responsible for the task of making sure the individual aspects fit together cohesively and will stand the test of time; entrusting the detailed work to the masons. I remember his humility and gentleness as to how he holds his responsibility. It reminded me of ++Rowan Williams.

Any final reflections that will help me get a sense of your work?

I asked.

We find it important to know that it’s no one person’s building… it’s everyone’s building.

Dave then took me to Vic, who I spoke of before. She took me up the scaffolding to the top of the largest window in Europe (I think!) She showed me the work they had done on one of the spires; beautifully carved and crafted work. Then she showed me the window itself and, again, the intricate detail that the masons of the original Cathedral had created. Then it struck me; the masons work on painstakingly carving the intricate detail would never be seen by those hundred feet down. The only people who may see that six or seven weeks of work would be themselves and, potentially, future restorers (and, of course, God Himself). The extravagance of the craft!

As a man called to participate in the building up of His Church I must remember the extravagant, secret and private work of the diaconal priest. I guess I want to end on the reading of yesterday from John’s gospel.

The story of Jesus washing the disciple’s feet has become the story of the diaconal order. What does this story say to my role as a deacon? The work of cleaning the dirt from people’s feet is a work done away from the crowds in a private space. The cleaning of the dirt is a necessary work. It’s a work that requires humility of the one washing but also vulnerability of the one being washed.

It is necessary and it is a privilege to see the fragile, stone behind the layers of corruption and decay and to be called to restore them and make them sing!

In The Minster (part III)

So what’s the point of cathedrals?

The more time I spend looking at Cathedrals, their communication and mission activity, the more I am convinced that they play the most significant part of our evangelism. It is interesting to me that these archaic, monuments to the past hold the potential key to our future.

I have worked closely with Durham Cathedral and now York Minster and have asked the question “How do we create in the heritage tourists a desire for faith tourism?” Millions of people visit our Cathedrals each year as historical monuments; they enter into a building used for worship, without us awkwardly befriending them and trying to time our invitation to come along. They come, almost, at their own volition and ask questions of the space, experience whatever is there. This is an enormous opportunity if only we could translate and interpret the space effectively.

As part of my placement in the Minster I have explored the ‘York Minster Revealed’ project being undertaken by Lottery Heritage Funding and the Dean and Chapter of the Minster. The idea is to invest millions of pounds into this heritage site to encourage more visitors to the Minster and, therefore, to the city itself. This may come across, to some, as selling out but I believe is a great mission opportunity and, I have to say, reading the Interpretation Plan, is clearly aimed at guiding people to experience the living, growing, life affirming faith and the God for whom the whole space is offered to in praise and worship each day.

Back in Durham, I am privileged to be a part of a team of ordinands who inhabit the Cathedral space there once a month. Our aim is to frame the space so that people can explore and encounter God there. We try and minimise the heritage signage, taking out donation boxes, stripping back to the walls and to the history of prayer soaked into the building. The atmosphere of the place is different for a number of reasons from the day time trade of tour buses and historical interest groups to the silent, meditative pilgrims encountering God in powerful ways in the evening. None of these reasons seem to sum up exactly what that difference is but the attitude in which people explore the space helps them to worship and pray for themselves.

Here in York, they have really simplified, as much as possible, and kept signage out of the space. Part of the Interpretation Plan is to use digital media such as Augmented Reality and QR Codes to inform people without layering it, physically, onto the building. This will help to keep the building as place of worship for the regular congregation. This will allow people to experience the space separated from the noise of the factual past and free them to experience the prayer and spiritual past and present.

In a conversation with the team who look after the heritage side of the Minster’s work it is clear that their aim is to use the building to tell the story not just of the past but the continuing life of the Minster as a community of worshippers.

I don’t care why they come but I do care that they leave knowing why they came.

An interesting idea which, I’m sure is shared by many missional leaders in parishes across the country. How do we use our heritage and history not to keep people thinking we’re past it but that we are present and we have an exciting future?

The undeniable truth is that Cathedrals get visitors! Parish churches struggle. Why? Well, Cathedrals dominate the skyline for one but they also have a clear story. I visit numerous heritage sites and love them. I judge them, not on their size but on the stories they tell. Warkworth Castle in Northumbria has no roof, very little walls and no guides but it tells a great story and has tried to tell it in interesting ways. Our parish Churches have stories or links to stories. We need to become more competent and confident to tell the story of the spaces we use for worship.

Take the parish church in Croxdale, County Durham. I did a placement there and visited the church of St Bartholomew’s. Still an active church but there’s an atmosphere about the place that is dark and cold. This has no relation to the community that worships there. The space is silenced by a whole number of things. During my time there I learnt that there was a community artist working in the hall next door. She rented that space from the church to use as a workshop and teaching space. I requested a meeting with her and suggested using the church as a gallery for local artists (who are currently struggling to find places to exhibit their work). This needs fleshing out but the potential to resurrect such a dark space into one of life and art and inspiration would lead, surely, to a reinvigorated life of faith.

Cathedrals don’t need to advertise more to get people into their worship buildings but they can work harder at translating the space from a heritage site to a place of encounter with the living God. The data informs us that people stay for services in York Minster and these events greatly change the whole experience of their visit. The realisation, surely, that this is not a static, dying building but one that grows and lives! Add into the visit Twitterfalls to help people communicate for the Cathedral unplanned, new, exciting discoveries as they happen to other visitors and suddenly the tourists become the guides and, who knows, the evangelists telling anyone connected to the Twitter conversation that they have encountered God in the Quire, Nave, Crypt, where-ever!

The thing I’ll take away from my time here in York is a sense of my passion and love of Cathedral mission. This is not an old building which needs to be sold but the greatest resource for communicating an historical faith alive and well in the heart of all our cities. Jonathan Draper and his team of ‘interpreters’ are passionate people naturally connected to millions of people each year all of whom are potential witnesses to the powerful love of God!

Let’s dig down deep and root ourselves in our past so that we see growth in the present and be a towering strength of hope in the future!

In The Minster (part II)

They all gather in the locker room, their kits hung ready for the event. The banter flies freely and the regular rituals begin. Theirs positioning, roles and tactics are explained and they prepare themselves to go out and ‘perform’…
I am talking, of course, of the scenes before a service at York Minster!

From my privileged position as placement student (or ‘interloper’, ‘apprentice’, ‘dogs-body’ and any other term to use to describe my temporary role at the Minster) I have watched the daily routine of services with the usual processionary positioning, reading allocations and general choreography. All of which have a more than fleeting similarity to those of a football match, except there’s no ‘opposition’! I can’t seem to fully sign up with the need for such detail and the rubrics (the written guides for how worship may be done.) I understand the need for order and guidelines to stop worship and public expressions of faith becoming sloppy and incoherent, ‘un-Common Worship’ would divide rather than bring some gravitational unity. What is sometimes communicated, however, is that legislation is keeping some people in positions of glory and power who should be the symbol of humility.

Take the interesting issue of having specific seats marked for Canons in the Cathedral (at the heights overlooking the congregation.) What could be communicated is they get reserved seating because they are important. Immediately the Scripture

‘…do not sit down in a place of honour… but when you are invited, take the lowest place’ (Luke 14:8,10)

I understand and can appreciate the many facets of this issue; what are the places of honour and how are they distinguished? The seats are at the back and not the front, for example. I am aware of the need for those members of the community to have a sense of ‘home’ in the place of prayer; to not be distracted in prayer by the interest on who’s sat where. It may come down to the way a position is treated and understood. The seat marked ‘Dean’ is seen as, perhaps, the best seat because it is designated for the Dean, a perceived position of power. When the Dean sits there (most services because it’s his ‘church’) people see that as him sitting in the position of power but actually people are judging the role and not the position.

This is particularly interesting when you consider the ‘role’ of priest within a congregation.

As many regular readers will know I have a both a high view of priesthood (sacramentally) but a low view of individual ‘leadership’. My time here at York Minster has helped me to articulate the exact call on me to be a ‘priest’. I have had for a long time a need to reject the ‘leader’ title because I don’t see that call in the New Testament nor the benefits of designating one person to decide and direct a group of people. What is communicated in leadership manuals and guides is a leader who is coming up with ideas and influencing people’s decisions. The language is slippery and falls into dubious responses to collaboration. I want more clarity in our use of leadership language.

For me a good ‘leader’ is a faithful ‘follower’. Jesus has called me to be a disciple and a servant of people. A servant rarely speaks to their master in a dominating manner, demanding their views to be heard; they may be asked for opinion but they are not there to offer it, necessarily. How do we exercise wise counsel in a radical flat leadership style?

Take the practical example of the chapter here at York Minster. The chapter is the governing body of the cathedral and is made up of clergy, administrative staff and laity. It is the chapter who make the decisions on how the cathedral is run and what responses or activities to make and engage with. The Dean is the ‘leader’ of the chapter. What may be inferred by this is that he is in charge; he makes decisions and holds the power. The impression I get and what I’ve been told by members of the chapter is that he is one among equals. His seat in the Chapter House is deliberately not central; it is not different from any of the other seats there. He is not positioned in a favourable place to ensure he is the focus. He has no deciding vote on issues. When I described this impression to his wife she immediately said, “But the buck ends with him!”

This is essential to my understanding of priestly leadership (if such a term could be coined!) A priest is an ambassador for Christ; someone who, by their life and discipleship calls the people of God to be Christ-like as they are Christ-like. Christ was a servant who lead as a servant. This radical and baffling paradox is perfectly shown in His journey to the cross. Christ followed the will of those he served to death. John’s prologue speaks of His people not accepting Him and nailing Him to the cross. Christ took the consequences of the decisions made by His people even if He may not, individually, have wanted Himself. We’re discussing issues of willingness to be crucified and I want to emphasise Christ was willing to do it because He was committed to being lead by the actions of His people, whatever form that takes.

Let me de-theologise this and use a hypothetical situation in a hypothetical chapter with a hypothetical Dean. This Dean is sat in a chapter meeting and a decision needs to be made about disruptive members of the community in worship. The Dean, personally thinks they should remain and not be abandoned. The chapter are tired of trying to deal with the disruptive member and wants them to pass them onto a parish church. The Dean knows that if they reject this member of the congregation that the press, the community and the local people will be very upset and angry. The vote is taken and the chapter votes majoritively to sensitively send the member elsewhere.

The Dean, as figure-head and spokesperson of the chapter, communicates this decision to the public despite him, personally, believing there’s another way. He, as figurehead and spokesperson of the chapter, also commits himself to suffer the consequences of that chosen action; taking the brunt of the ‘backlash’ on himself. Is this not a sacrificial act of servanthood? Is this not part of priestly ministry? To be a priestly leader is to be nothing more than a spokesperson and figurehead of a community.

This is not to say that as a priestly leader you do not state an opinion nor hold a position on matters but to follow Christ before the need to lead in a traditional sense is to die to your own opinion to serve others. This is painful and uncomfortable but it is this model of leadership that is being called upon us as disciples of Christ. No wonder Paul warns those who have positions of ‘authority’. This is the distinguishing mark, for me, from secular leadership.

So back to the Minster and positions of power!

The Dean, the canons and, for a time, I will sit in the places designated to us for a whole range of reasons, some good and some bad. It does not matter where we sit, however, but rather the attitude and the manner in which we sit there. A  position of power must be held by someone but it can and should be held by someone who seeks always to take the consequences of actions made by that role before the need to exert influence from it.

This has wider implications on how I see myself as a future priest but I have taken up too much time already! Must go and reflect on Archbishop Rowan Williams address to Synod which I believe covers lots of these issues and more on how we speak of ‘church’. I’ll try and link it more with theatre as this blogs remit is straying too much from that passion!

In The Minster (part I)

At the end of day two of my placement at York Minster there seems to be one big question running through my head and the conversations I’ve been having; “What’s the difference between Cathedral ministry and parish ministry?”

Canon Glyn Webster describes his role at the Minster as “The Parish Priest of the community” despite the Minster not being a ‘parish’. He sees his role as overseeing the pastoral needs of those who work and worship in the hallowed Gothic building in the centre of York. The staff here are amazed (and glad to tell me) that the Minster congregation is growing. Early morning Matins and Evensong every day and all Sunday services have increased their regular number over the last decade or so. This has not surprised me. Having spent the last two years working with Durham Cathedral and listening to many who work in Cathedrals across the country, this trend is shared by most of the Cathedrals. Why is this?

I had a very encouraging conversation with an ex arch-deacon of Cleveland, Ron Woodley today. He spoke passionately about parochial ministry and encouraged me by stating that “It’s the greatest life you’ll ever live. It’s hard but on balance I have never known of a more joyful life!” What a ringing endorsement from someone who had 40 years of active ministry. In the midst of our conversation he said something that rang true and has been helpful in my reflections. He suggested the difference between parish ministry and the ministry of the Cathedral is the Cathedral offers worshippers anonymity where parish life doesn’t.

I believe that to be true but is that a benefit or problem?

I have no doubt that there is a strong sense of community here in the Minster. I sat through a very touching funeral of a staff member and the sense of community was palpable. The packed quire at both the funeral service and at Evensong last night speaks of a committed worshipping community. During the worship, however, you just fade into the milieu of faces. I, personally, love that. I am not important to be individually picked out but I am just one, tiny speck, in a sea of people all worshipping and praising the almighty God.

In parishes, I have experienced a cry to ensure everyone is welcomed and identified and spoken to and acknowledged. This is very important if people are to feel part of a community. Too often we become insular and cliquey isolating and rejecting the new-comer. The sign of peace is a time to speak to and individually welcome each member of the community into worship. There is no anonymity. People want to and need to talk to you, know how you are, who you are before worshipping. There is no fading into the background and having time with God.

Here is the strange paradox; In order to have a personal moment with God, un-hindered by the concern that people might be looking at you, you need to fade into the sea of people. But to make people feel part of the sea of people we feel the need to personally meet and greet each person.

I find it interesting that Cathedral congregations are growing. Is it because that anonymity is important? That sense of a private experience in the protection of the mass of people is an aspect of our culture at the moment, is it not? In the development of evangelism of the last couple of hundred years we have seen a journey from up the front delivery to conversational, didactic forms of evangelism. The issue we face at the moment is no one even wants to ask the questions or engage in conversation. Many people have researched and studied the trends and we find ourselves in a culture that no longer asks questions of faith. I’m not saying that the Alpha model of evangelism, answering the questions of life, is outmoded but the research shows that it is increasingly difficult to get people wanting to even go to the meal!

What Cathedral worship offers which parish ministry doesn’t nor shouldn’t offer is the chance of a private, personal, surprise encounter with God. This may well lead onto the need for Alpha or any conversation with people of faith.

We have been trying to wrestle with this in our ‘Fresh Expression’ in Durham Cathedral (UR32B.wordpress.com). At the heart of this service is the desire to encounter God in the space; un-intrusive, anonymous, private encounters. We have struggled with the issue of how we create community with people who only want to experience God privately and not in community. How do you establish a Eucharistic community in this individualistic environment?

I’m not sure I can, yet, answer that question but what I can say is I believe that this anonymity in worship is what many unchurched people would be happy with rather than being thrust into a gathering where everybody knows everyone else and you are clearly the ‘stranger’; where in the worship you feel judged and on display. Where you are so busy worrying that you do and say the right thing that you don’t have the chance to experience something transcendent.

Cathedral worship allows you to ease into an experience of God whilst, at the same time, being part of a big group of people, all experiencing the same thing as you. Although nothing is said or physical contact made you still feel a huge sense of a united community, sharing the spiritual realm.

It is this truth that seems to be resonating for me at the moment in my last couple of posts. So I pray that as I continue on this placement that God will bring more revelations that will help me to articulate these thoughts!

Deadly Theatre Deadly Worship?

I’m aware I haven’t written about theatre for a long time so I want to unpick some thoughts I’m currently wrestling with as I continue the long process of writing the book ‘God of the Gods’.

My placement this year has been focused on being in a ‘creative’ community and seeing what one might look like. (You can follow the placement through the ‘Theatre Church’ stream by searching this site.) My reflections have concentrated on the capitalist mentality that flows through both the process of theatre and our understanding of Christian community. I have written extensively on this theory but thought I might share aspects of it as it relates to thoughts on theatre from the man himself, Peter Brook.

The act of creating a piece of theatre should be a journey of discovery for all involved. The current economic climate, however, forces the focus away from the search for discovery to a mechanical, predictable process aimed at achieving the highest income for the lowest cost.

A producer, who holds the finances, in order to increase that potential investment, funds a startup productions in the hope of building both a portfolio, artistic clout and financial capital to further that aim. In order to gain the most income they need to produce a sellable product, something popular and so they invite ‘creative’ directors and/or writers to invent a concept or write a script that will meet those criteria. These ‘creatives’ are therefore conditioned to develop concepts or write scripts to pitch to a producer who decides whether it will make a return on their investment. Theatre is, therefore, often driven by the marketability of the product rather than the necessity of the expression itself. The creative act is done by a solo agent and is completed before the pitch is made in order that a clear ‘vision’ is communicated to the financier. The process to construct the product must be planned carefully in order that it is the most successful (success being both how well it embodies the original concept and the amount of people who consume it.) Auditions are held to get the right people for the right job/role. Actors are tested and interviewed to see who has the right skills to undertake the role in the shortest period of time. Rehearsals are characteristically one sided. Directors ensure that the actors are doing what needs to be done to create the product as the director/writer see it. The actors ask for clarification and performing the role as prescribed and not participating in a journey of discovery; they’re cogs in a machine.

Peter Brook notes,

…a theatre where a play for economic reasons rehearses for no more than three weeks is crippled at the outset. Time is not the be-all and end-all; it is not impossible to get an astonishing result in three weeks…But this is rare… No experimenting can take place, and no real artistic risks are possible. (Peter Brook, The Empty Space)

‘Deadly Theatre’, as Brook calls it, is one that lacks life. This, he suggests, is not as easily discerned as you might expect. For something dead can be dressed up to look alive like the lifeless puppet manipulated to imitate life. Can our Churches experiment? Can they, what theatre practitioners call, ‘play’? Can they take real ‘artistic’ risk? I’d argue ‘no’. If every Sunday, or what ever day the community worships, is a ‘performance’ to lure in seekers then there is no space for risk. If something ‘fails’ then it will impact potential clients. If we can begin to call the seeker-friendly service a performance then our ‘rehearsal time’ is one week! Brook continues,

The artistic consequences are severe. Broadway is not a jungle, it is a machine into which a great many parts snugly interlock. Yet each of these parts is brutalized; it has been deformed to fit and function smoothly… In such conditions there is rarely the quiet and security in which anyone may dare expose himself. I mean the true un spectacular intimacy that long work and true confidence in other people brings about – in Broadway, a crude gesture of self-exposure is easy to come by, but this has nothing to do with the subtle, sensitive interrelation between people confidently working together. (Peter Brook, The Empty Space)

This kind of theatre is like a disease spreading through our culture. The big West-End musicals are all veneer with no substance of necessary expressions of human beings. Audiences are fooled into thinking that the more jolly, colorful and expensive the design the more ‘theatrical’ it is. No one questions this shallow performance style which has seeped into classic works such as Shakespeare making words that have so much potential life become boring. We have all become accustomed to it and so no longer crave the pure, life giving theatrical art.

In churches, regular congregations have become accustomed to the lifeless worship that is dressed up to imitate life. These imitations take on may forms depending on a particular tradition. The pentecostal inspired charismatic services need only to increase the volume and emphasize the rhythm to bring on their ‘spiritual’ highs. Watchman Nee says,

We have heard people say that…the moment they hear the sound of the organ and the voice of singing their spirits are immediately released to God’s presence. Indeed, such a thing does happen. But are they really being brought to the presence of God? Can people’s spirits be released and drawn closer to God by a little attraction such as this? Is this God’s way? (Watchman Nee, The Latent Power of the Soul)

What are we aiming for in community? In Christian community I’d suggest that we are aiming to share the fruit of the Spirit in the character of Christ to be reconciled to God and one another. In our worship, therefore, we need to be praying and living in the power of the Spirit. That Spirit will then go out from us to the others and unite us all together and bring us resurrection life; life that will not end. In theatre community I’d suggest the aim is similar. We are looking for a life that inspires each person to express themselves in a communal expression. Our self expressions can be affirmed as holding ‘truth’ by inspiring something within the whole community. Thus, that which is life to the individual participant is shared and encourages the other to experience life themselves. How do we discern whether a piece of theatre or an act of worship has ‘life-giving life’? Watchman Nee distinguishes between the life of the soul and the life-giving life of the Spirit,

“The first man Adam became a living soul; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit.” (1 Cor 15:45)… The soul is alive. It has its life, therefore it enables man to do all sorts of things…The spirit, however, is able to give life to others and cause them to live… “It is the spirit,” says the Lord, ‘that giveth life; the flesh profiteth nothing” (John 6:63) (Watchman Nee, The Latent Power of the Soul)

Here it is important to state, one can perform a piece of theatre with life but it stops at self expression if it does not hold life-giving life or that which brings life to the observer/ the rest of the community. We are not searching for self expression but self expression within communal expression.

Christian community should pay attention to Brook’s warnings to theatre. We must discern carefully whether our self expressions don’t stop at the self but give life to others. We must be careful that our worship is not resuscitating our dead bodies for a moment but rather giving resurrected life. We can achieve this, I’m beginning to believe, by ‘playing’ constantly, feeling comfortable with others to experiment and to reject crude self expressions and aim for the self expression within communal expression that marks life-giving life to all. Feeling comfortable with others can only be achieved if we create space for vulnerability and commitment to community as a verb and not as a noun.

Monasticism and Asceticism (part II)

As I walked towards the place of wailing seals and separation I remembered that the tide was in. Do I turn back because the spiritual experience I had been waiting for for five days was not accessible or do I go and see what happens distanced from the detachment?

I plodded on round the houses to the back of the church and out towards Cuthbert’s Island. I stood on the coast, the North Sea filling the gulf between me and the ‘holy place’. I was last here in June (see Monasticism and Asceticism post) and as I stood, my feet on a shifting stone shore, I thought about the time that had past.

There, almost a year ago, I had a moment with God that punched me in the stomach. Now as I finish my second year at college I am well accustomed to that feeling. Over the year, almost incessantly, I have gone from one beating to the next. The story of Jacob wrestling with God has become more and more ingrained in my spirituality; the loving, merciful aggression of God always holding back from using His full force which would leave me reeling into an abyss of non-existence and yet interlocked in an embrace.

To be honest I’m knackered! The white flag is waving and yet He stares as I catch my breath, smiling at me.

“Finished?”

“Let me catch my breath, Papa.”

“We don’t have to…”

But as I signal the end, admit defeat, a new energy arrives. I can do another round. Why? Because I feel myself getting stronger, resilient, more able. This round will be mine! As I engage again I remember that with each round He up’s the stake and reveals His ever increasing ability to overthrow me.

As I think of the endless tussling between me and my Maker I smile. I think of St Cuthbert sat, alone on this island in front of me. The tide ebbing and flowing, at times allowing people to cross and speak with him and him needing a more deserted sanctuary to be alone with God and their wrestling matches.

I continue to reflect on whether I am an introvert or extrovert. The restlessness and banality I turn to after spending too much time in conversation with people; to the deepest battering I receive when I spend too much time on my own. When I went through a Myers Briggs’ evaluation it told me I was right in the middle needing both solitude and companionship.

My place was truly on that island. At times the tide high forcing me to be alone to face my sinfulness and my merciful King, at others the tide allowing a causeway to community, hospitality and friendship. This leads me back to my reflections on the Northumbria Community who I visited on the same day as my last visit to Holy Island.

I have organised with Pete Askew to go on placement with the Northumbria Community in September. Sarah and I had gone a talked with Pete the day before and I was struck by how much their approach to spirituality and living a Christian life fitted with my own discoveries over this year.

This is the Rule we embrace. This is the Rule we will keep: we say YES to AVAILABILITY; we say YES to VULNERABILITY.
We are called to be AVAILABLE to God and to others:
Firstly to be available to God in the cell of our own heart when we can be turned towards Him, and seek His face;
then to be available to others in a call to exercise hospitality, recognising that in welcoming others we honour and welcome the Christ Himself;
then to be available to others through participation in His care and concern for them, by praying and interceding for their situations in the power of the Holy Spirit;
then to be available for participation in mission of various kinds according to the calling and initiatives of the Spirit.
We are called to intentional, deliberate VULNERABILITY:
We embrace the vulnerability of being teachable expressed in:
a discipline of prayer;
in exposure to Scripture;
a willingness to be accountable to others in ordering our ways and our heart in order to effect change.
We embrace the responsibility of taking the heretical imperative:
by speaking out when necessary or asking awkward questions that will often upset the status quo;
by making relationships the priority, and not reputation.
We embrace the challenge to live as church without walls, living openly amongst unbelievers and other believers in a way that the life of God in ours can be seen, challenged or questioned. This will involve us building friendships outside our Christian ghettos or club-mentality, not with ulterior evangelistic motives, but because we genuinely care.

As I walked away from Cuthbert’s Island and into the town I thought about God’s call on my life. Who am I? What’s God forming me into? Is it God who is forming me or my own self-delusions? I am close to God or far from Him? Is this wrestling one of discipline or formation? But above all of these the question arose again, as I looked at the picture of the island cut off from the shore, Am I missing the tides that will unite me with a community and cut me off for contemplation?

This year has been a year of ‘right thinking at the wrong time’. I’ll catch a glimpse of God and rush to tell people but it’s too early because as I step onto the shore of others and the tide does its thing I find myself trapped and needing to go and be alone. Or I’m on the island too long and friends and family get worried and concerned by my isolation.

Is the monastic life one of complete isolation from the world? Where is the mission? The spreading the good news?

The ebb and flow of ‘the mixed life’ of the contemplative and active, of monastery and mission, withdrawal and engagement, solitude and Community, together makes the Northumbria Community ethos.

An Idea! (part II)

We’ll start by beginning to gather the five questions we finished with and making some possible links between them.

I think the first question, ‘who are ‘artists’?’, is a key question.

At the heart of this is who is creative? What makes some people creative and others not? The research that showed that the same act of recalling our episodic memory is similar to the act of imagining future episodes and creating a construct in our ‘mind’s eye’ show some correlation between the act of remembrance and creativity. In remembering an incident or episode we are involved in a creative act. Our brains are being creative. As human beings, therefore, in any act of remembering, recalling past events, we are being creative. I would suggest we are all, naturally, creative. There is, of course, some extreme cases of damage to this part of our brain where people can’t remember but, on the whole, we are creative.

In Genesis we read that God made us in His image. What this means is a massive concept but I want to draw on the creativity of God. I believe God created everything, He constructed it in His mind (if He had one) and constructed it in reality… wow the complexity is frightening! As humans we have been given the faculty, from God, to do likewise. His first command to us is to go forth and multiply…create. Now, creation of a child does not take any brain activity. When most people approach sex they don’t imagine the future child! God, however, seems to give humanity a special task of managing and subduing creation, this is a creative act. God asks us to be creative with His world to adapt it and grow it. The term ‘bara’ used in the creation narrative is the verb ‘to create’ and it is only used with God as the subject. Only God can ‘create’. As humans we are able to re-create. The research seems to suggest that we have an innate creativity in all of us.

For some this is easier than for others but I don’t think we can divide up humanity into those who are creative and those who aren’t. All of us are creative and all of us are able to be part of a creative act.
This may answer the second question, ‘how is the act of remembrance connected with creativity?’, and goes on to connect with this understanding of exile as ‘fertile ground’.

When we go into exile we are forced to participate in an act of collective recollection. This is an act of creativity. A group of people are forced to be creative and, therefore, participate in an act of humanity ‘made in the image of God’ and, therefore, are imitating God.

This may then answer the question, ‘Why does God seem to turn up in the time of exile?’ God turns up in exile when we start to, by recalling and being creative, etc., act in a way that is God-like.

This all has massive implications in the original question, ‘how does the church connect with ‘displacement deniers’?’.

I have for some time felt called to ‘artists’ and in particular theatre artists. This category has been extended as my understanding seems to be that all people are creative and therefore artists. This is un-helpful for me. My definition needs to be addressed. Artists must be restricted to describe a person who engages in art, a certain type of creative act. Everyone is able to engage with art but some choose not to and others do. Artists (those who choose to engage with art) tend to be more spiritually aware than those who do not choose to engage with art. Is art, therefore, key to spiritual awareness?

I’d like to suggest that it is and if we take this on board, with the body of evidence given previously, then to engage those people who deny their spiritual side we need to engage them in artistic endeavour for a
period of time.

Why is it some people don’t like art? There must be a hundred and one reasons why some people don’t but I’d like to be naive and suggest there is a fear or confusion as to how one engages in art. I need to look into this area!

What if the way we, as the church, connect with ‘displacement deniers’ is to put them into exile? Put them into a place where they are forced to recall the past, ache for home, emotionally engage with episodic recollection? Exile is the place where stories are told. Story-telling the basic creative act; it’s the act where we consciously recall episodes. When we do this we are also able then to imagine future constructions and be ‘creative’ and produce art; painting, theatre, music, etc. It is in this act of creativity that in some mysterious way God appears and/or we become aware of our spiritual life.

In my placement I’m excited by what we are discovering together about how we are creative, the correlation between nostalgia, exile and community… Thank you God for beginning this journey and thank you for bringing me such creative people to explore with.