Last time I wrote about going through a door and shutting it behind you. Now I want to take my reader through just one particular door: one which is, by convention, almost always shut behind the entrant. This week I'm in the bathroom, a place where - with the possible exception of mothers of toddlers - one is usually alone.
I want to draw your attention to two common household items often found there. The first one is a mirror, the prime function of which is to reflect a near-perfect image of the one looking into it. The prime function of the second item, a sponge, is to soak something up, usually water or soap, hopefully in order later to discharge its contents in the course of washing a body. Unfortunately the second stage of this operation is not essential, as can sometimes be discovered on cleaning the bathroom, when a sponge might be found somewhere inconvenient in a cold and saturated condition!
I think it will be readily agreed that these two are opposites, in that one is hard while the other soft; the function of one is both instant and constant while that of the other is delayed and finite. They have one thing in common, however, in that they can teach us something about human relationships.
If, in your childhood, you read Revd. Charles Kingsley's book The Water Babies - or had it read to you - while you may have, like me, forgotten the plot completely, the names of two characters will surely come to mind: Mrs Do-as-you-would-be-done-by and Mrs Be-done-by-as-you-did. Considering the vocation of the author, it won't surprise you that these have a biblical foundation, to be found in Jesus' teaching on active goodness and mercy in Matthew 7:9-12.
My bathroom-based reminder focuses on just one tiny aspect of this very broad topic. Suppose you meet someone whom you know quite well, but not intimately. You might well greet them with, "Hello, how are you?" or, "How do you do?" To either of these an acceptable social response is to repeat the question, which achieves nothing for either party. Sometimes a brief answer is offered, such as "Fine, thanks" or "Not too bad.", which again convey very little, and often terminate the exchange. If you know the person a little better, you might enquire, "This is a pleasant surprise, what brings you here?" Here, now, is a direct question that demands an answer. The nature of that answer will depend on all manner of things, most of which will be determined by the circumstances, feelings, demeanour or other inclination of the one giving it. There might be a dismissive, "nothing special." or at the other extreme the enquiry might prompt a lengthy explanation that could, in turn, lead to expressions of sympathy or practical advice. You will probably notice how the shorter sentences are colder and crisp like a mirror, while the final lengthy example more closely resembles the sponge's absorbing and discharging properties.
The descriptions above are very much given from the point of view of the confident initiator of the exchange. Suppose though, you are - whether by nature, or as a result of particular circumstance - going into this encounter in a more timid or fragile condition. You might not want to enter into any conversation at that time, or with that particular person. You might not wish to appear impolite, so prepare one of the short crisp rebuffs and respond, breaking your journey as little as possible <acting like a mirror>. At the extreme, you might ignore the enquiry completely, not stop and say nothing at all <acting like a broken mirror!>. At the opposite end of the spectrum, you might be pleased with the encounter, feel that this is just the person to whom you could unburden your situation or problem and you're delighted that they have greeted you in a way that invites your, perhaps lengthy, explanation. <acting like a sponge> If you continue your unburdening beyond the point where the enquirer would dearly love to move on, then perhaps your attitude could be likened to the cold, saturated sponge on the bathroom floor!
Somewhere in the midst of these examples is another scenario. You're the more vulnerable of the two, but you draw up from the depths the courage and confidence to speak first. "Hello, how are you?", you ask, hoping - perhaps, based on your knowledge of the other person, expecting - that the answer will be, "Fine, thanks ... and you?", which gives you the 'in' to an unburdening.
In a short piece like this, I'm not seeking to assign 'right' or 'wrong' labels to any of these behaviours. I'm simply suggesting that there are many different ways of meeting friends and acquaintances, and that they may vary between the same two people from one time to another ... and that we all ponder, regarding both ourselves and those we meet, "am I a mirror or a sponge today?"
Saturday, 15 February 2020
Saturday, 1 February 2020
Behind Closed Doors
The aim of Gospel Around Us has always been to link faith to the common things of life and, in this post, I'm exploring links with something most of us do many times in a day ... never mind in the whole of life. How often do you go through a door and close it behind you? It may be when you pass from one room to another in your home, or at work; the door may have a self-closer, so it shuts automatically behind you. It might be to join others, or to be alone away from them; it could be that, at the end of a hard day, you pass through your front door, lean back on its strength and say, "Thank goodness that's over!"
'An Englishman's home is his castle', so it is said. It was established in common law in the seventeenth century and William Pitt (the elder) said in 1763, "The poorest man may, in his cottage, bid defiance to all the forces of the crown. It may be frail, its roof may shake, the wind may blow through it; the storm may enter, the rain may enter, but the King of England may not enter!" It's every young couple's dream, as they prepare for marriage, to have a home of their own, a front door that they can enter and lock behind them, secure from the rest of the world.
My attention was drawn recently to King David, and the Lord's promises related to him by Nathan the prophet, of which we can read in 2 Samuel ch. 7. Verse 10 has particular significance just now: "I will provide a place for my people Israel and will plant them so that they can have a home of their own and no longer be disturbed." In discussion at the time, we appreciated that this verse is held to support Israeli claims on the West Bank and justify their settlements there, in contravention of a UN Resolution.
There is another political, and even more topical relevance, as Brexit takes effect and potentially hardens the borders of our own country against the rest of the world. We also related the verse more generally to the security offered by 'a home of our own'.
Paul, writing to the Corinthians, spoke of 'less honourable or unpresentable parts', that were 'treated with special honour or modesty' (1 Cor. 12:22-23). Was he talking about anatomy or elements of our behaviour? Either way, there are certainly things we would only do in the secure privacy of our own home. I won't embarrass my reader by offering a list. In centuries past, monarchs would invite nobles to attend their 'levée', or dressing. This started in France and Louis XIV raised it to a ceremonial level. It spread to England under Charles II, and thence to America, but had all but died out by the end of the eighteenth century.
You'll be glad to learn I'm not advocating the revival of the levée, but I wonder whether we might guard too carefully the secure nature of our homes. I recall a time in my accounting career when I had been accorded the privilege of an office of my own on the first floor. Not only did my position bring responsibility for a room full of people on the ground floor of the same building, but also for similar offices in two other towns. I found the isolation of my own office very counter-productive and it was easier to control the two outlying offices by driving there and working on the side of someone else's desk than it was the people at my 'home base'.
Perhaps there are times when we should think 'outside the box', as it were, both as individuals and as a nation. By valuing too highly the privacy of home, are we overlooking the potential benefits of having visitors? Instead of holding meetings in a public hall or across the table at the pub, should we consider inviting the participants to our lounge? I realise that for some of us, by virtue of our domestic situation, this would be impossible, but for others, it might prove beneficial. At a national level, have we forgotten the humanitarian kudos we earned in 1939 with Kindertransport? Should we be opening our borders to more refugees, rather than 'battening down the hatches'?
Are security and isolation two opposing sides of the same coin? Can we be paying too high a social price for our security?
'An Englishman's home is his castle', so it is said. It was established in common law in the seventeenth century and William Pitt (the elder) said in 1763, "The poorest man may, in his cottage, bid defiance to all the forces of the crown. It may be frail, its roof may shake, the wind may blow through it; the storm may enter, the rain may enter, but the King of England may not enter!" It's every young couple's dream, as they prepare for marriage, to have a home of their own, a front door that they can enter and lock behind them, secure from the rest of the world.
My attention was drawn recently to King David, and the Lord's promises related to him by Nathan the prophet, of which we can read in 2 Samuel ch. 7. Verse 10 has particular significance just now: "I will provide a place for my people Israel and will plant them so that they can have a home of their own and no longer be disturbed." In discussion at the time, we appreciated that this verse is held to support Israeli claims on the West Bank and justify their settlements there, in contravention of a UN Resolution.
There is another political, and even more topical relevance, as Brexit takes effect and potentially hardens the borders of our own country against the rest of the world. We also related the verse more generally to the security offered by 'a home of our own'.
Paul, writing to the Corinthians, spoke of 'less honourable or unpresentable parts', that were 'treated with special honour or modesty' (1 Cor. 12:22-23). Was he talking about anatomy or elements of our behaviour? Either way, there are certainly things we would only do in the secure privacy of our own home. I won't embarrass my reader by offering a list. In centuries past, monarchs would invite nobles to attend their 'levée', or dressing. This started in France and Louis XIV raised it to a ceremonial level. It spread to England under Charles II, and thence to America, but had all but died out by the end of the eighteenth century.
You'll be glad to learn I'm not advocating the revival of the levée, but I wonder whether we might guard too carefully the secure nature of our homes. I recall a time in my accounting career when I had been accorded the privilege of an office of my own on the first floor. Not only did my position bring responsibility for a room full of people on the ground floor of the same building, but also for similar offices in two other towns. I found the isolation of my own office very counter-productive and it was easier to control the two outlying offices by driving there and working on the side of someone else's desk than it was the people at my 'home base'.
Perhaps there are times when we should think 'outside the box', as it were, both as individuals and as a nation. By valuing too highly the privacy of home, are we overlooking the potential benefits of having visitors? Instead of holding meetings in a public hall or across the table at the pub, should we consider inviting the participants to our lounge? I realise that for some of us, by virtue of our domestic situation, this would be impossible, but for others, it might prove beneficial. At a national level, have we forgotten the humanitarian kudos we earned in 1939 with Kindertransport? Should we be opening our borders to more refugees, rather than 'battening down the hatches'?
Are security and isolation two opposing sides of the same coin? Can we be paying too high a social price for our security?
Wednesday, 15 January 2020
A Hymn for All, and for All Occasions!
A few weeks ago I
attended the funeral of a member of our church who, with her husband, had moved
to our town from Cardiff a few years ago; the funeral was thus a meeting of
cultures as well as a celebration of her life.
The final piece of music was a recording of Cerys Matthews singing Calon
Lân. Inevitably, it seemed, some in
the congregation joined in with the chorus and I have since tried
to discover why it’s such an emotive song.
So deeply is it
embedded within the Welsh culture that it could easily be believed that it’s
far older than is actually the case. The
words were written in 1891, allegedly on a cigarette packet, by a poet known
for excessive drinking, who would sit in the King’s Head pub in his home town
of Treboeth and exchange verses for ale (‘poems for pints’).
Daniel James was born
on 23 January 1848, one of five children; he became known as the ‘bad boy’ of Mynyddbach Chapel in Swansea. He worked at Morriston
Dyffryn steelworks, and later at a tinplate works. When that closed, he moved to the Cynon
Valley. Here he was employed at a
succession of three coal mines until, through ill health, he left the mines at
the age of 68 and returned to live with his daughter in Morriston and died on
16 March 1920. In later life he used the
bardic name ‘Gwyrosydd’ (Man of the Moors), which appears on his tombstone in
the Mynyddbach Chapel graveyard.
The tune was written
on James’s invitation by a younger man, John Hughes. He was born in 1872 at Pen y Bryn, Pembrokeshire and had already
written ‘Cwm Rhondda’ for William Williams’ great hymn ‘Guide me O
thou great Redeemer’. The
Irish-American writer Sean Curnyn claims that the combination of James’s syllables
and Hughes’s notes results in something very profound and able to affect the
emotions with absolutely no idea of what the words mean. Little wonder, then, that it is sung in
churches and chapels, at eisteddfodau, rugby and football matches and in stadiums
and pubs across the country wherever Welshmen – and women – gather.
So much for the tune. What about the words? What is it about the words of one of the most
diversely sung songs in the world - although rarely, if ever,
sung in English - that strikes directly to the hearts of Welshmen everywhere? It's not the land itself; that has its own song, 'Land of My Fathers'. And it's not the brave feats of Welsh heroes of the past like Owain Glyndŵr. Here’s
a link to Katherine Jenkins’ recording, useful because it shows an English translation
as the Welsh words are being sung. What, then, do those words have to say to us today?
In December my regular
Bible readings featured Peter’s second letter and I found a number of thoughts there
that echoed the singular and fundamental message of Calon Lân (A Pure Heart). The letter was written when Peter realised
that he was close to death (1:13-15), and it has thus been described as his ‘last
will & testament’. Peter exhorted
the church to accept the teaching of the Prophets (among which he probably
included the early Christian writers such as St Paul (3:15-16)) and to reject attempts
by false teachers to undermine the belief that Jesus would return.
Modern Christians
tend to understand and interpret the Bible in ways that are determined by their own traditions and persuasions but we
can find common ground in understanding that, through it, God speaks to each of
us in the context of our own experience and location. Whatever that context might be, it will
include a variety of ‘false teachings’ that we must discern and resist.
The essential need,
Peter says, is for spiritual maturity, recognising that, through our knowledge
of Him, God has given us everything we need for a godly life (1:3). Peter gives us a list of key qualities that we
should add to a basic faith: goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverence,
godliness, mutual affection and love.
John Wesley referred to 'means of grace', and expounded (simplified?) the
list as ‘engagement with the Bible, prayer, fellowship, spending time in
silence and doing acts of mercy and kindness'.
As he teaches about
the danger to Christians of false teachings, Peter expresses his concern for
the purity of the church. Pure is the word
most translators have chosen for the Welsh (g)lân. It’s a word for which it’s difficult to
find an exact English equivalent; other words offered by Google’s translator
inlcude ‘clean, complete, utter, holy, spotless, dear and fair’.
The message purveyed
by these false teachers comes in modern ways to modern Christians, but is essentially the same
as ever. It is a message of
permissiveness, the offer of present pleasure, material possessions and the
complete denial of the existence of sin.
Peter describes the futility of this permissive freedom as a spring that
is found to be dry (2:17). In his first
two lines, Daniel James writes, ’Nid wy’n gofyn bywyd moethus, Awr y byd na’i
berlau mân’ (‘I don’t ask for a luxurious life, the world’s gold or its fine
pearls’) and in the second verse he acknowledges that, ‘Pe dymunwn olud bydol, Chwim
adenydd iddo sydd’ (‘If I wished for worldly treasures, on swift wings they fly
away.’)
It has been suggested
that Calon Lân is neither a hymn nor a spiritual song; why then should it have such a strong emotional appeal? The third
verse is a complete and constant prayer for the spiritual maturity that Peter encourages
in his letter, ‘Hwyr a bore fy nymuniad Gwyd i’r nef ar adain cân Ar i Dduw, er
mwyn fy Ngheidwad, Roddi i mi galon lân.’ (‘Evening and morning, my wish,
rising to heaven on the wing of song, is for God, for the sake of my Saviour,
to give me a pure heart.’) for, as the chorus repeats, 'Dim ond calon lân all ganu, Canu'r dydd a chanu'r nos.' ('None but a pure heart
can sing, sing in the day, sing in the night.')
What songs bring you
that ‘back-of-the-neck’ tingle of emotion?
Sources:
Curnyn,
Sean: The Cinch Review, 23.5.2013
Felinfach.com
Higgs,
Gareth: comments on 2 Peter (Scripture Union: Word Live, December 2019)
Sotejeff-Wilson,
Kate: Found in Translation, 6.7.2016
Walesonline.co.uk,
11.4.2019
Wednesday, 1 January 2020
Singing a New Song
I have the privilege of singing in a small choral group in my church. From time to time we're confronted by a fresh piece of music that looks - to be frank - quite baffling. There are notes everywhere; parts splitting, changes of key, it's as if a spider has crawled all over the page. How do we turn this confused 'mess' into beautiful music?
Fortunately, we have a skilled and patient leader, under whose guidance we're slowly led to see our own part separately from the whole. Gradually, we become more familiar with it and then learn to blend our notes with the others until, just at the crucial point, it all comes together and a wonderful offering of praise is presented, to the welcome admiration of those listening, as well as to the glory of our Living Lord. It's a far cry from the puzzled apprehension with which we first greeted the sheet music.
Life itself is like that sometimes. Indeed, it has been thus since the beginning of time. Look at the ancient Israelites whom Moses led out of Egypt to the Promised Land. When they crossed the Red Sea, they hadn't a clue where they were going; they simply knew that living under the Egyptian yoke couldn't carry on. Once they were out in the desert, it was a different story; they began to experience difficulties, and grumbled often to Moses, comparing the food they now had to the comparative luxuries they had had in Egypt.
When they finally arrived and sent spies to explore the land, they still couldn't accept the story that Joshua and Caleb brought back of a land flowing with milk and honey (Numbers 13:27). All they saw was the potential difficulty of overcoming the present occupants, who were rumoured to be giants. They threatened to choose an alternative leader and make their way back to Egypt (Numbers 14:4).
Even in Jesus' day, attitudes had changed but little. One day, he asked his disciples who they thought he was. Peter - always the bold and outspoken one - said, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matt. 16:16). Jesus then began to explain to them what this would mean, how he would suffer, be killed, and be raised to life on the third day. Peter took Him aside and told Him He'd got it all wrong, that this couldn't happen to Him, only to receive the severest of all rebukes, to be told that he was the Devil incarnate (Matt. 16:23).
Peter couldn't see the bigger picture. He hadn't grasped what the Messiah had actually come to earth to do: to save all of mankind from its sinfulness. He saw the Messiah only as one who would deliver the Jews from the grip of their Roman oppressors.
What about us: what's the bigger picture around our lives? Where do we fit into it? These are questions to which we rarely see the answers completely. The results of last month's General Election brought shocks to many. Some will undoubtedly question, 'how did this happen, what went wrong, how can we do better?' Some will be fearful for their future in one of a dozen different ways.
However, if we are constant in prayer and persistent in seeking God's will for us, it's possible to view differently what may seem to those people to be a bad situation. There may be a glimmer of light in the darkness. The blessing is when we recognise that glimpse for what it is, and have the courage and imagination to seek God's strength to take it further. We can only sing that new song when we follow the right notes.
Fortunately, we have a skilled and patient leader, under whose guidance we're slowly led to see our own part separately from the whole. Gradually, we become more familiar with it and then learn to blend our notes with the others until, just at the crucial point, it all comes together and a wonderful offering of praise is presented, to the welcome admiration of those listening, as well as to the glory of our Living Lord. It's a far cry from the puzzled apprehension with which we first greeted the sheet music.
Life itself is like that sometimes. Indeed, it has been thus since the beginning of time. Look at the ancient Israelites whom Moses led out of Egypt to the Promised Land. When they crossed the Red Sea, they hadn't a clue where they were going; they simply knew that living under the Egyptian yoke couldn't carry on. Once they were out in the desert, it was a different story; they began to experience difficulties, and grumbled often to Moses, comparing the food they now had to the comparative luxuries they had had in Egypt.
When they finally arrived and sent spies to explore the land, they still couldn't accept the story that Joshua and Caleb brought back of a land flowing with milk and honey (Numbers 13:27). All they saw was the potential difficulty of overcoming the present occupants, who were rumoured to be giants. They threatened to choose an alternative leader and make their way back to Egypt (Numbers 14:4).
Even in Jesus' day, attitudes had changed but little. One day, he asked his disciples who they thought he was. Peter - always the bold and outspoken one - said, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matt. 16:16). Jesus then began to explain to them what this would mean, how he would suffer, be killed, and be raised to life on the third day. Peter took Him aside and told Him He'd got it all wrong, that this couldn't happen to Him, only to receive the severest of all rebukes, to be told that he was the Devil incarnate (Matt. 16:23).
Peter couldn't see the bigger picture. He hadn't grasped what the Messiah had actually come to earth to do: to save all of mankind from its sinfulness. He saw the Messiah only as one who would deliver the Jews from the grip of their Roman oppressors.
What about us: what's the bigger picture around our lives? Where do we fit into it? These are questions to which we rarely see the answers completely. The results of last month's General Election brought shocks to many. Some will undoubtedly question, 'how did this happen, what went wrong, how can we do better?' Some will be fearful for their future in one of a dozen different ways.
However, if we are constant in prayer and persistent in seeking God's will for us, it's possible to view differently what may seem to those people to be a bad situation. There may be a glimmer of light in the darkness. The blessing is when we recognise that glimpse for what it is, and have the courage and imagination to seek God's strength to take it further. We can only sing that new song when we follow the right notes.
Sunday, 15 December 2019
They Just Don't Get it!
I'll confess it up front ... I'm guilty of diverting from my stated aim. This blog doesn't specifically refer to an everyday article, theme or circumstance. Instead, I'm hoping my illustration will prompt a parallel thought in the minds of my readers that will, in turn, focus their minds on the fundamental point.
One of my great hobbies is bell-ringing; I've been at it for fifty years or so, off and on, and - as I admitted to someone recently - I find it difficult to appreciate what it's like not to know things that to me are, after that length of time, second nature. If you've never tried, it may surprise you that one of the most difficult aspects of learning to ring is the language! If you visit a foreign country, aware that they speak a different language, you might well seek out a good dictionary and do some homework in advance. This isn't a different language, however, it's all English ... but a lot of everyday words have different from everyday meanings.
To make things worse, there are instances where the same thing is known equally by two or more different words: had you ever considered that both 'over' and 'to' could mean 'after'? Or that 'in', 'down' or 'to the front' could actually mean 'earlier'. And then there are normal English words, that not only preserve their 'proper' meaning, but also have a specific and totally different one as well, such as 'lead': it appears in its literal meaning as in 'take the lead in doing something'; but a lead (pronounced in exactly the same way) is also the name given to the basic unit of a method, or pattern, of ringing.
Two intelligent learners who trained with our local band last year focused my attention on this problem ... one that I'd never really appreciated before. In the days when I learned to ring, a beginner remained largely silent and absorbed these things rather by osmosis than by being told. Not so in today's world ... and all the better for that!
This isn't a new phenomenon, of course, and one that is far from confined to bell-ringing. Most hobbies and interests have a jargon all their own that has to be understood by newcomers in order to gain the most satisfaction from them. We can take encouragement from the example of St Paul. In about AD 50, he visited Thessalonica in the north-eastern part of what today is Greece. As a result of a riot, his friends sent him to nearby Berea for safety but the trouble followed him there, so he went further south to Athens, and waited for his friends to join him there later.
Making good use of his time while he was waiting, he chatted to Jews and Greeks in the market place. There he was overheard by some Epicurian and Stoic philosophers who enjoyed the challenge of debating with him. Some called him a babbler; others didn't understand what he was saying about Jesus and the resurrection, and thought he was talking about two foreign gods. It was a far cry from Paul's intended message about the One True God! (You can find the whole story in Acts 17:10-21).
During the autumn, I took part in a ringing outing, and overheard a conversation between our organiser and the man who had met us at one of the churches we visited. He was explaining about a young learner he'd taught a while ago. "He just didn't get it," he said, "He couldn't see how we knew which bell to follow when we were ringing a method. Then one day, he realised what we meant, what we'd been trying to explain one way or another for ages. He suddenly shouted, 'I get it!' and then there was no holding him. In a few months he was ringing stuff I could never master!"
Just like that trainer, and St Paul, those explaining the Christian faith are faced time after time by folks who simply can't grasp the fundamental but far-reaching simplicity of faith. We don't have to earn our salvation ... it's already been won, once for all, by Jesus on the Cross. All we have to do is accept that, for what it is ... a gift.
At Christmas time, we celebrate the gift of Jesus arriving on earth in the form of a tiny, vulnerable baby, born to a humble family in the Middle East. Each year our church is transformed for a living tableau illustrating 'The Christmas Journey'. Over the course of a week hundreds of primary school children, along with their teachers, pass through our doors to see a portrayal of the real story of Christmas. It's surprising how many of them had no idea what this great festival time is all about ... and sometimes quite moving to witness their emotional reaction!
If you have been trying for years, whether in terms of Christmas, Easter or purely in everyday conversation, to explain your faith to someone close to you, take heart from the example of Paul. Think how many thousands - millions, even - owe their faith to his determination not to give up.
One of my great hobbies is bell-ringing; I've been at it for fifty years or so, off and on, and - as I admitted to someone recently - I find it difficult to appreciate what it's like not to know things that to me are, after that length of time, second nature. If you've never tried, it may surprise you that one of the most difficult aspects of learning to ring is the language! If you visit a foreign country, aware that they speak a different language, you might well seek out a good dictionary and do some homework in advance. This isn't a different language, however, it's all English ... but a lot of everyday words have different from everyday meanings.
To make things worse, there are instances where the same thing is known equally by two or more different words: had you ever considered that both 'over' and 'to' could mean 'after'? Or that 'in', 'down' or 'to the front' could actually mean 'earlier'. And then there are normal English words, that not only preserve their 'proper' meaning, but also have a specific and totally different one as well, such as 'lead': it appears in its literal meaning as in 'take the lead in doing something'; but a lead (pronounced in exactly the same way) is also the name given to the basic unit of a method, or pattern, of ringing.
Two intelligent learners who trained with our local band last year focused my attention on this problem ... one that I'd never really appreciated before. In the days when I learned to ring, a beginner remained largely silent and absorbed these things rather by osmosis than by being told. Not so in today's world ... and all the better for that!
This isn't a new phenomenon, of course, and one that is far from confined to bell-ringing. Most hobbies and interests have a jargon all their own that has to be understood by newcomers in order to gain the most satisfaction from them. We can take encouragement from the example of St Paul. In about AD 50, he visited Thessalonica in the north-eastern part of what today is Greece. As a result of a riot, his friends sent him to nearby Berea for safety but the trouble followed him there, so he went further south to Athens, and waited for his friends to join him there later.
Making good use of his time while he was waiting, he chatted to Jews and Greeks in the market place. There he was overheard by some Epicurian and Stoic philosophers who enjoyed the challenge of debating with him. Some called him a babbler; others didn't understand what he was saying about Jesus and the resurrection, and thought he was talking about two foreign gods. It was a far cry from Paul's intended message about the One True God! (You can find the whole story in Acts 17:10-21).
During the autumn, I took part in a ringing outing, and overheard a conversation between our organiser and the man who had met us at one of the churches we visited. He was explaining about a young learner he'd taught a while ago. "He just didn't get it," he said, "He couldn't see how we knew which bell to follow when we were ringing a method. Then one day, he realised what we meant, what we'd been trying to explain one way or another for ages. He suddenly shouted, 'I get it!' and then there was no holding him. In a few months he was ringing stuff I could never master!"
Just like that trainer, and St Paul, those explaining the Christian faith are faced time after time by folks who simply can't grasp the fundamental but far-reaching simplicity of faith. We don't have to earn our salvation ... it's already been won, once for all, by Jesus on the Cross. All we have to do is accept that, for what it is ... a gift.
At Christmas time, we celebrate the gift of Jesus arriving on earth in the form of a tiny, vulnerable baby, born to a humble family in the Middle East. Each year our church is transformed for a living tableau illustrating 'The Christmas Journey'. Over the course of a week hundreds of primary school children, along with their teachers, pass through our doors to see a portrayal of the real story of Christmas. It's surprising how many of them had no idea what this great festival time is all about ... and sometimes quite moving to witness their emotional reaction!
If you have been trying for years, whether in terms of Christmas, Easter or purely in everyday conversation, to explain your faith to someone close to you, take heart from the example of Paul. Think how many thousands - millions, even - owe their faith to his determination not to give up.
Sunday, 1 December 2019
Give us a King!
Squabbles over gender equality and gender superiority are nothing new. I learned as a child a little rhyme, "Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can: Often in a woman, but never in a man!" Depending who used it and their strength of feeling, those adverbs 'often' and 'never' could be exchanged for 'seldom' and 'always' to reverse the meaning completely. My cousin and I would argue to and fro about this, until our attention was diverted by one wise mother or the other. As an adult, I don't believe patience is gender-specific, but it is one of the facets of the 'fruit of the Spirit' that Paul lists in Galatians 5:22 (sometimes disguised as 'long-suffering' or 'forbearance').
Although it's elusive, patience is essential in many areas of life. I understand, for example, that the early opening of the oven door to see whether the cake is cooked can lead to its ruin and, in carpentry, cutting the wood without careful measurement and marking is equally disastrous. I once had a friend whose decorating skills were in great demand; he always said that a good job was 90% preparation and 10% application.
The same is true in politics, it seems. One of our leaders has repeatedly stated his aim to 'get Brexit done' so that attention can be focused on matters that are vital to our nation's livelihood. Many sources agree, however, that parliamentary approval of a deal will be not the end, but the beginning of several more years of negotiation to secure trade deals to replace those we will abandon.
When encouraging me to be patient, my father used to say that on his school exercise books was written, "If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well." Another of our leaders seems to have used the same books. He advocates (another) re-negotiation. When asked for his personal view, he seems to evade the question and argue that the reason for doing this is simply that 'it's what the people want'... or at least what they wanted a few years ago.
If you read 1 Samuel, chapter 8 (it's not that long), you will see that the people of Israel asked Samuel to give them a king. In his wisdom, Samuel knew this would be a bad move but, after prayer, words of caution and more prayer, he gave in and did what they wanted. It didn't end well. In the centuries that followed, one disaster seems to have followed another and the one thing that was missing was what the people had given up ... following God's ways.
I've recently been reading from the penultimate book of the Old Testament and discovered this verse. "Then I broke my second staff called Union, breaking the family bond between Judah and Israel." (Zechariah 11:14). This was part of one of the prophet's many visions of the future. A few lines further on, I read of "a [foolish] shepherd over the land who will not care for the lost, or seek the young, or heal the injured, or feed the healthy, but will eat the meat of the choice sheep, tearing off their hooves." (v.16).
It seemed to me that the first of these parallels Brexit, breaking the family bond between this country and the rest of Europe, and the second underlines the way that our country has been neglected by its 'shepherd' as those in authority have focused all attention on Brexit, to the exclusion of wise government in many areas.
I'm reminded of my father once more and on this occasion, as a comparatively uneducated man, of his correct use of the subjunctive. I had done something wrong and was being interrogated as to my reasons for this. Trying to pass the blame onto someone else, I pleaded, "... because (my friend) told me to." My father dismissed my excuse, "And I suppose if he were to tell you to jump in the Mere, you'd do that, too?" (The Mere was the lake in the middle of our town, in which many have drowned over the years.) My defence having failed, I was duly punished.
So, what do we learn from all this? Two things, I suggest. Firstly, if we really want Brexit, we have to be patient and realise that it won't 'get done' quickly, but will mean many more years' uncertainty in addition to the last three-and-a-half. Secondly, that 'what the people want' is not sufficient justification for poor judgement on the part of government. St Paul wrote, "I will show you the most excellent way." (1 Cor. 12:31). In the often-quoted chapter that follows, he defines the meaning of love. Two verses jump out. "love is patient, love is kind ... it does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking" (1 Cor. 13:4-5).
Zechariah's 'foolish shepherd' met an unpleasant end because of his irresponsible conduct; Samuel saw the hazards involved in giving the people what they wanted. If we get what (it appears that) we want, it may well not be to our advantage. Applying these truths to our individual lives, the moral seems to be 'have patience, seek what God wants.' Maybe we should ask ourselves where we lack patience.
Although it's elusive, patience is essential in many areas of life. I understand, for example, that the early opening of the oven door to see whether the cake is cooked can lead to its ruin and, in carpentry, cutting the wood without careful measurement and marking is equally disastrous. I once had a friend whose decorating skills were in great demand; he always said that a good job was 90% preparation and 10% application.
The same is true in politics, it seems. One of our leaders has repeatedly stated his aim to 'get Brexit done' so that attention can be focused on matters that are vital to our nation's livelihood. Many sources agree, however, that parliamentary approval of a deal will be not the end, but the beginning of several more years of negotiation to secure trade deals to replace those we will abandon.
When encouraging me to be patient, my father used to say that on his school exercise books was written, "If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well." Another of our leaders seems to have used the same books. He advocates (another) re-negotiation. When asked for his personal view, he seems to evade the question and argue that the reason for doing this is simply that 'it's what the people want'... or at least what they wanted a few years ago.
If you read 1 Samuel, chapter 8 (it's not that long), you will see that the people of Israel asked Samuel to give them a king. In his wisdom, Samuel knew this would be a bad move but, after prayer, words of caution and more prayer, he gave in and did what they wanted. It didn't end well. In the centuries that followed, one disaster seems to have followed another and the one thing that was missing was what the people had given up ... following God's ways.
I've recently been reading from the penultimate book of the Old Testament and discovered this verse. "Then I broke my second staff called Union, breaking the family bond between Judah and Israel." (Zechariah 11:14). This was part of one of the prophet's many visions of the future. A few lines further on, I read of "a [foolish] shepherd over the land who will not care for the lost, or seek the young, or heal the injured, or feed the healthy, but will eat the meat of the choice sheep, tearing off their hooves." (v.16).
It seemed to me that the first of these parallels Brexit, breaking the family bond between this country and the rest of Europe, and the second underlines the way that our country has been neglected by its 'shepherd' as those in authority have focused all attention on Brexit, to the exclusion of wise government in many areas.
I'm reminded of my father once more and on this occasion, as a comparatively uneducated man, of his correct use of the subjunctive. I had done something wrong and was being interrogated as to my reasons for this. Trying to pass the blame onto someone else, I pleaded, "... because (my friend) told me to." My father dismissed my excuse, "And I suppose if he were to tell you to jump in the Mere, you'd do that, too?" (The Mere was the lake in the middle of our town, in which many have drowned over the years.) My defence having failed, I was duly punished.
So, what do we learn from all this? Two things, I suggest. Firstly, if we really want Brexit, we have to be patient and realise that it won't 'get done' quickly, but will mean many more years' uncertainty in addition to the last three-and-a-half. Secondly, that 'what the people want' is not sufficient justification for poor judgement on the part of government. St Paul wrote, "I will show you the most excellent way." (1 Cor. 12:31). In the often-quoted chapter that follows, he defines the meaning of love. Two verses jump out. "love is patient, love is kind ... it does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking" (1 Cor. 13:4-5).
Zechariah's 'foolish shepherd' met an unpleasant end because of his irresponsible conduct; Samuel saw the hazards involved in giving the people what they wanted. If we get what (it appears that) we want, it may well not be to our advantage. Applying these truths to our individual lives, the moral seems to be 'have patience, seek what God wants.' Maybe we should ask ourselves where we lack patience.
Friday, 15 November 2019
Not Just Poppies!
A couple of weeks before the Remembrance commemorations last weekend, I read a review of Armistice celebrations from past years in which it was pointed out that, alone among the countries of Europe, Britain has, for many years, seen the event only from its own point of view: 'Britain standing alone against the foe', and has ignored fact that, at those times, we did have the continuing co-operation of our colonies, often at a disadvantage to themselves, and of other nations under government-in-exile.
A few years ago, the Royal British Legion had a slogan, 'Wear your poppy with pride'; but just what do we mean by 'with pride'? Is it pride for a victory in war, a gesture of triumph? Or is it pride in the sacrifice of heroic lives? Some were so disgusted at these possibilities that they took to wearing white poppies, simply symbolising peace.
Last year's commemoration focused on the centenary of the end of the Great War and now, following an enquiry from a distant cousin challenged by a school project "World War I and my family", my thoughts have turned once again to the number of lives wasted; four years of slaughter in the mud, a generation destroyed ... and for what? Peeled back to the bare bones, I suggest, it was to satisfy national pride, or even - thinking of the circumstances surrounding the Kaiser's birth - the ultimate result of a midwife's mistake!
But I want this post to be forward-looking ... what comes after the conflict? I've recently been reading the story of the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC, as reflected in the writings of Jeremiah. For centuries, Jeremiah and other prophets had warned the people about their lifestyle, which was contrary to the Covenant God had made with them when He brought them out of slavery in Egypt. At last the penalty had to be paid; they lost their precious temple and their city. But, amidst all the threats and warnings, there is an indication of what will follow. Despite what appears to be a devastating end to the relationship, there is hope for the future in the promise of a new Covenant (Jer. 31:31-33).
A J P Taylor and other historians have suggested that the very one-sided Treaty of Versailles at the end of the First World War was a contributory cause of the Second. It heaped all the blame on Germany and imposed swingeing reparation terms in addition to the loss of territory and of its colonies. Certainly, it gave Hitler a cause that he could exploit to persuade sufficient of the population to elect him to power in 1933.
Contrast this situation with the way that God dealt with the people of Judah. Even before the invasion by the Babylonians, there was a promise of reconciliation. This is, after all, what God always desires, that his people can dwell together in unity (Ps. 133:1). In our Remembrance service on Sunday there were prayers for the recognition of the sins and shortcomings of the world: pride, selfishness, greed, evil division and hatreds; and of our share in what is wrong and failure to seek and establish the peace that God wills for His children.
This search for reconciliation is relevant to so much in our lives today. It's not just the poppies and all they stand for, but present-day areas of strife and conflict as well. At a personal level there is often discord between and within families, and within our communities there are clear needs for understanding, co-operation and reconciliation, and especially following Brexit ... whichever way things turn out in the coming months.
Each of us must answer the question, "What reconciling action are you being called to right now?"
A few years ago, the Royal British Legion had a slogan, 'Wear your poppy with pride'; but just what do we mean by 'with pride'? Is it pride for a victory in war, a gesture of triumph? Or is it pride in the sacrifice of heroic lives? Some were so disgusted at these possibilities that they took to wearing white poppies, simply symbolising peace.
Last year's commemoration focused on the centenary of the end of the Great War and now, following an enquiry from a distant cousin challenged by a school project "World War I and my family", my thoughts have turned once again to the number of lives wasted; four years of slaughter in the mud, a generation destroyed ... and for what? Peeled back to the bare bones, I suggest, it was to satisfy national pride, or even - thinking of the circumstances surrounding the Kaiser's birth - the ultimate result of a midwife's mistake!
But I want this post to be forward-looking ... what comes after the conflict? I've recently been reading the story of the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC, as reflected in the writings of Jeremiah. For centuries, Jeremiah and other prophets had warned the people about their lifestyle, which was contrary to the Covenant God had made with them when He brought them out of slavery in Egypt. At last the penalty had to be paid; they lost their precious temple and their city. But, amidst all the threats and warnings, there is an indication of what will follow. Despite what appears to be a devastating end to the relationship, there is hope for the future in the promise of a new Covenant (Jer. 31:31-33).
A J P Taylor and other historians have suggested that the very one-sided Treaty of Versailles at the end of the First World War was a contributory cause of the Second. It heaped all the blame on Germany and imposed swingeing reparation terms in addition to the loss of territory and of its colonies. Certainly, it gave Hitler a cause that he could exploit to persuade sufficient of the population to elect him to power in 1933.
Contrast this situation with the way that God dealt with the people of Judah. Even before the invasion by the Babylonians, there was a promise of reconciliation. This is, after all, what God always desires, that his people can dwell together in unity (Ps. 133:1). In our Remembrance service on Sunday there were prayers for the recognition of the sins and shortcomings of the world: pride, selfishness, greed, evil division and hatreds; and of our share in what is wrong and failure to seek and establish the peace that God wills for His children.
This search for reconciliation is relevant to so much in our lives today. It's not just the poppies and all they stand for, but present-day areas of strife and conflict as well. At a personal level there is often discord between and within families, and within our communities there are clear needs for understanding, co-operation and reconciliation, and especially following Brexit ... whichever way things turn out in the coming months.
Each of us must answer the question, "What reconciling action are you being called to right now?"
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