Tag Archives: creativity

Creativity is My Faith

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder… If this is the case then you must all be terribly fond of me!
I’ve been on our annual UK tour visiting different people, catching up and falling in love again with friends, family and places. This year we had three legs of our tour; York (Riding Lights Summer Theatre School), Tunbridge Wells and the Kent coastline. All of these excursions took up time and focus and I couldn’t find much space to take myself way to write and be creative on my own.

I managed to keep one deadline, enforced from an external source, whilst at Riding Lights Summer Theatre School. I want to briefly reflect further on my experience of ‘creativity’. (Read ‘Creativity in Community’ post)

I tried, whilst in Folkestone last week, to get some writing done for my ‘god of the gods’ book. As I sat down to write out some of my theories on what it means to be ‘christian’, I clammed up. I got writer’s block.

I have experienced writer’s block before but this time was different. Before, the sensation was one of not having anything to say. The mind goes blank and you have no original thought to express. You are acutely aware that your mind is currently just ticking along with nothing of any great worth going on. This is difficult, particularly when there is a pressure to produce or be creative, either from an internal or external source.

This time, however, there was a different sensation, one where I had lots of things to say but no way of expressing them. I could, if asked, talk on the topic for a long time and draw all the sources I needed to express what was going on in my head. Instead, I just sat there,

“Where do I begin? How do I say…?”

I tried writing everything out in mind map. I tried speaking ideas into a dictaphone. I tried asking questions in a philosophical argument structuring way. I thought about how I write blogs, sermons and other creative writing exercises and then it occurred to me…

I had forgotten how to do it.

It seemed that, having stopped being creative, I actually stopped being able to be creative.

Creativity, for me, is participation in the life of God. Is everyone creative? No. Is that because they can’t be? No. It’s because they choose not to be. I don’t mean this in a condemnatory manner. Creativity is available to us all, i.e. the life of God is available to us all and some choose to participate and others don’t.

Creativity can borrow language of faith here. If you choose not to participate in a relationship with God you will discover that you can’t relate to God. You will find it difficult to understand any possibility of having a relationship with God. This then becomes your barrier to having that relationship with God which was available to you before. You then begin to say “I can’t have a relationship with God” as if it was a question of logic. I would say that anyone can have a relationship with God but some don’t want to and choose not to. So instead of saying “I can’t” (which I believe to be a fallacy) one can only say “I don’t want to/ choose not to.”

No one can say “I can’t be creative.” The perception is too timeless for it to be correct. You may not be able to be creative now but you can be creative because you are human and creativity is a possibility for all. You choose not to be creative and so it is difficult for you to see you being creative, you have forgotten how to be creative.

Trying to stay on track before I spurt out all my dissertation research…

Creativity, like a relationship with God, is made possible via a choice. This choice opens up both a growth in a competency as you allow the ‘creative power’ to move you and a transformation in self perception as you allow the process of creativity to impact your view of yourself from ‘non-creative’ to ‘creative’. We are correct when we say “I am not creative” but the understanding of what that term means is wrong. Ontologically we are not creative; we are but dust. We are able to participate in creative acts, however, and so, in the world’s eyes’, we can ‘be creative’.

What I experienced was a forgetting of how to be creative. I could have started to believe I was incapable of being creative. This would have led to a death to that which excites me and brings a sense of life to me. Creativity is, at its most profound, the participation in life. Not existence but life. Life as the quickening of the heart, the discovery of purpose, the eyes opening to dazzling beauty. The truth is many have forgotten how to participate in life and they believe this is not available to them. I believe they have just forgotten.

As a Christian I see participation in creativity as the same thing as my participation in God. For Creativity gives me life and the product of that creative process seems to give life to others. The fruits of creativity inspire others to participate in creativity. Many feel they cannot move beyond the desire to participate because they ‘can’t’.

You can and you must.

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!

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.

Thinking Outside of the Box


I’m fascinated by mother’s, when asked about the early signs of pregnancy, who say “You kinda know there’s a baby in there somewhere.” This sensation is, of course, always going to remain alien to me due to my lack of a womb but it’s interesting because a friend of mine said the same thing about writing books; “You just know you have a book in you.”

I love writing. I love to think through concepts and play with words and try and communicate the jumble of ideas going on in my head but I have to ask myself the question: “Do I have a book in me?”

I have tried, on a number of occasions to try and write books. When I was about 7, I remember sitting at my Nan’s typewriter writing out the title, centering and underlining it. Increase the font size, change the font, setting in place the right format to save me a job later. The title? Simple: The Vikings. I had done an ounce of research for a school project and read an article in National Geographic magazine my Mum collected. I was an expert! I was going to write a book on the subject and so I started. I had done this a number of times; The Aztecs, Incas, Egyptians, Victorians, Tudors. Gravity, Volcanoes, Earthquakes, Oceans. Foxes, Voles, Whales, Sharks, Tortoises. Fiction, Non Fiction, Encyclopaedias (yes I was that ambitious!)

At school, each Monday, we would have ‘creative writing’ which consisted of us writing an acount of our weekends. I would begin with waking up on Saturday morning, an exciting time, the faint scent of anticipation, maybe touched with a tinge of frustration. The familiar smells and sensations of my surroundings all needed to be captured in this piece. My teacher’s began to get frustrated with me.

“He never gets out of bed in his creative writing, Mrs. Lunn. Look here.” My creative writing book, a small 30 page A5 notebook, was brought out. “He has filled this book with his contemplations while lying in bed on a Saturday morning! he spent an hour and a half writing about five minutes!”

The truth is I am a prolific writer already; I just can’t seem to finish them.

I’ve tried in recent years to split a book up into several smaller chunks. So, before I start writing, I think about what I’m passionate about and then split it off into sub categories. This has failed also to produce any finished work. I currently have three books two not even half way through waiting to be finished. Why don’t I finish them? Because by the time I’m two or three months into writing I’ve moved on. My brain is onto something else or I’ve changed my views on a subject that I stated at the beginning.

Do I have a book in me?

I have hundreds but I can’t write them quick enough!

I’m currently working my way through economic theory books on Capitalism and it has made me reflect on how I’m approaching this need of mine to write a book. I love the process of writing, I love the wrestling and coming up with ways of expression but I very quickly begin to turn my attention to the final product. I ask questions like: “What will the cover look like?” “What clever titles can I come up with for chapter headings?” “HOw will it look on the page?” “How many words do I need?” All valid questions but all of them stop me from actually fully participating in the writing process.

Blogs are much easier. Blogs can be written in half an hour and published. A complete packaged item with no stress. I write for as long as I want and then I finish when I finish. I can come back to an idea and develop it but I equally don’t have to.

I hate writing books because of the pressure to finish the product on time and packaged…sellable.

Do you have to produce art to be an artist?

Do you have to have a creation to be called creative?

These questions have plagued me for months. I have come to loathe the need to produce because it’s suffocating. People’s nice requests of, “Ned, can you come up with something creative?” I want to shout, “Not now that you’ve asked!” Don’t ask me to create something because the pressure stops me being creative.

To be nice I say ‘yes’ and go away. I struggle and wrestle; “What am I going to do that’ll be ‘creative’?” I end up just regurgitating some old piece of rubbish and updating it or changing it.

Take two recent examples:

I was asked to ‘do something creative’ for a conference. A set of responses to help people into worship. I sat and I prayed and I thought. I had nothing. I asked the key questions; “Why are we doing this?” “What are we doing?” “What does God want us to do?”. I came up with one answer which, in itself is a question: “Is just doing it normally not good enough?”

I guess what I’m trying to say is; is the need to be ‘creative’ actually just another way of saying “I want to be different because I need to be different.” The truth is when you’re being ‘creative’, ‘innovative’ for the sake of being ‘creative’ and ‘innovative’ then you end up doing nothing of the sort.

I’m asked all the time to ‘be creative’ and I’m getting to the stage where I want to say; “I am.”

I just ended up bringing out some old ideas and re-branding them. Is that creative? It didn’t feel creative. It felt like hard work.

In a Pioneer Ministry module this year we talk a lot about ‘being creative’ or ‘thinking outside the box’; “We need to be innovative, entrepreneurial, creative.”. It feels like, as new ministers, we’re being asked to ‘do something creative’. but what do we actually mean by this? What is creative? The big question is:

‘What is the box that you want me to think out of?”

This is a fundamental issue with the current ‘creative’ conversation. Lots of people sit around tables and say; “We need to think differently. We need something new.”

Silence.

To fill the awkward silence someone says those dreaded words; “I once saw… that seemed to work.”

And the ball is rolling…

Stop! Then it’s not new. Someone has done something like it before. “No but we’ll change the name.” “No. Instead of doing it for old aged pensioners we’ll do it for mum’s. It’s totally different”

Let’s back up a little more. If we’re sitting around and asking ourselves to be creative and new with the church then what about church isn’t working? What is the box that we need to think out of?

So we end up bringing out some old ideas and re-branding them. Is that creative? It doesn’t feel creative. It feels like hard work!

Two quotes have haunted me during this struggle:

If your life is centred on yourself, on your own desires and ambitions, then asserting those desires and ambitions is the way you try to be true to yourself. So self-assertion becomes the only way of self expression. If you simply assert your own desires, you may have the illusion of being true to yourself. But in fact all your efforts to make yourself more real and more yourself have the opposite effect: they create a more and more false self… people cannot simply assert their true self; they need to pray for the strength to find that self beyond their desires. (Finding Sanctuary – Abbot Christopher Jamison)

and

Many poets are not poets for the same reason many religious men are not saints: they never succeed in being themselves. They never get round to being the particular poet or the particular monk that they are intended to be by God. There can be an intense egoism in following everybody else. People are in a hurry to magnify themselves by imitating what is popular – and too lazy to think of anything better. Hurry ruins saints as well as artists. They want quick success and they are in such haste to get it that they cannot take time to be true to themselves. And when the madness is upon them they argue that their very haste is a species of integrity. In order to become myself I must cease to be what I always thought I wanted to be. (Seeds of Contemplation – Thomas Merton)

And so back to my issue of writing a book.

I haven’t written in weeks; due to essays, work, illness… the list goes on. I think I don’t want to write this book anymore because it’s not creative. I’ve put too much pressure to write a book. I want to write. If it becomes a book, then great. If I set out to write a book I’ll never write a book because that’s not creative it’s just feels like hard work.

You see, for me, the life, the excitement comes from writing, not writing a book. The process and not the product. I’m not suggesting we don’t produce but that our products come from our process and we relish and love and get life from the process.

Do I have a book in me? Possibly… I don’t want to push the comparison between conceiving child and a book too much but what happens to a process if you just focus on producing a product?

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.

An Idea! (part I)

I’d like to start by apologising for my absence from this blog site. This is due to a whole load of issues culminating in a very busy period at college. Thankfully that season has gone and I head into a winding down for the Christmas break.
During my short break from writing there have been a lot of reflections buzzing around my head that, in some way, connect together and I’ve been struggling (without the blog to help) to connect them up. Yesterday, however, I had a moment where several hunches collided together and I started to travel on journey of creativity… and creativity sits at the heart of the idea.

Before I begin the story I want to add a preface: This is still incomplete and, as usual, would be open to engagement from you, the reader.

Where do I begin?

I have two starting points for the same proposal; one is from the initial spark of the idea, the other is from the point where all the little hunches have come together into this idea…or I could go from the middle and allow everything to network onto that… that’s three… I’ll choose the third!

Ian Mobsby, the ordained leader of the Moot community (see ‘Sacramental Theatre (part IV)‘ post), visited our college on Tuesday to speak on New Monasticism and how those researching this form of missional church is connecting with ‘unchurched’ people in this hybrid context of pre-modern, modern and post-secular culture. What do all those terms mean? Unchurched defines those who have never had any contact with church. Pre modern describes those aspects of culture that pre-date the printing press, e.g. the sense of self and purpose often expressed via a faith in a deity or deities, a lack of emphasis on the individual preferring the understanding of communal. Modern are those aspects of culture that have come in after the invention of the printing press, e.g. scientific objectivity, the need or desire for evidence to prove arguments, a disregard of that which cannot be quantified or set. Mike King defines post-secular as

• a renewed interest in the spiritual life
• a relaxation off the secular suspicion towards spiritual questions
• a recognition that secular rights and freedoms of expression are a prerequisite to the renewal of spiritual enquiry
• a spiritual and intellectual pluralism, East and West
• a cherishing of the best in all spiritual traditions, East and West, while recognising the repression sometimes inflicted on individuals or societies in the name of ‘religion’

Mobsby sub categorised the ‘unchurched’ category into groups of differing spiritual awareness all of which are, in some way, being connected with by the church through different relationships. One, however, has been overlooked; ‘displacement deniers’.

This category is for those in our society who deny their need for spirituality or God and displaces that hunger with activity. This describes, to greater and lesser extents, the majority of people I come in contact with. Are artists in this category? I’d say “generally no”. Artists, as I have said before, are spiritual people, aware of that aspect of their life but I have begun to notice that ‘artists’ although aware of their spirituality can also be sub categorised into two parts; ‘engagers’ and ‘deniers’. That seems to be saying that artists are like everyone else and they are! What a surprise!!! But to say all artists are spiritual does not fully describe the group, in fact by dividing this group in this way I begin to see that the grouping ‘artist’ is unclear and complex…

Michael Sadgrove, Dean of Durham Cathedral, came to speak at college a couple of weeks ago on the topic of ‘Laments in the Psalms’ but focussed on the themes of remembrance, memory and exile. I’ll start with the theme of exile. I’ve been interested in this idea for some time now, since reading ‘Exiles’ by Michael Frost and hearing Rob Bell preach on the first chapters of Ezekiel (which have had a big impact on my call to ministry!) Frost argues that the church finds itself in exile; a group in an alien culture like Israel in Babylon. Some could argue that, in this multi-cultural, facetted, predominantly secular society of the UK, most people could describe themselves as exiles. Sadgrove discussed his observations of Rememberance Day; an act of collective remembering, a time when we deliberately reflect on the past. This day, Sadgrove observed, has become increasingly popular in recent years and he could not explain why. I’d like to suggest that it is this has something to do with the sense of exile most people, both inside and outside the church, connect with…

What is exile? I’d define exile as a place or mindset of unsettledness, a place where you do not feel ‘at home’. It is also a place where we are forced to look and reflect on where we have come from, home. To think about what ‘home’ means to us. Exile is, Sadgrove said, ‘fertile ground’. There is something in this place of exile that causes creative growth and powerful transformation. Biblically, also, exile has always been a place where God has moved. We think of the wilderness in Egypt, Babylon, post-exilic Jerusalem for Israel. It is in these places (particularly the latter) where ‘God turns up’. Let me take Ezekiel as an example. His home, both spiritual and physical, is destroyed and he is dragged out from there. He is forced, in Babylon, to reflect on his home. It is while he is reflecting, remembering, that God comes in a powerful vision and Ezekiel falls face down and worships…

In the group that I’m a part of for placement, we’ve been discussing the topic of ‘home’. We’ve been telling stories of ‘home’ and common themes have been appearing; family, comfort and shared history. This final idea has struck me as important.

Sadgrove spoke on the idea of ‘nostalgia’ and defined it as ‘an aching for home’ which is an interesting definition compared with the accepted understanding as ‘a yearning for the past, often idealised.’ Is there something in that comparison between ‘home’ and ‘the idealised past’?

As the group has discussed ‘home’ and shared history there will inevitably be a glossing of the facts, an idealising, an interpretation of the past. Rowan Williams, in his book ‘Why Study the Past?’, suggests that the past can never be seen objectively, historians cannot remain aloof from the telling of history. One member of the group said they’d been present at a lecture on memory and heard the suggestion that the act of remembering occurs when the brain recalls a sensation, previously experienced and then attempts to paint the individual sensations that made up that experience, i.e. the visual, the audible, the tangible, etc. Memory is a complex thing and research is still being done on how the brain ‘remembers’ but what most psychologists do agree on is that the act of remembering a specific episode is deeply interrelated to the act of future episodic construction in the brain (see ‘Using Imagination to Understand the Neural Basis of Episodic Memory’ article)…

We currently have five major questions; how does the church begin to connect with ‘displacement deniers’? who are ‘artists’? how is the act of remembrance connected with creativity? Why does God seem to turn up in the time of exile?

I’ll pause there so you can gather your thoughts.

I’d usually publish the next part tomorrow but I’ve published the two parts together so, if you are up for it, you can continue to read today and not lose your flow of thoughts and ideas.