In [Jesus Christ] God has entered forever into coexistence with us. The name is no longer just a word at which we clutch; it is now flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone. God is one of us.
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.135
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Barth on Monday
To pronounce the name of Jesus Christ means to acknowledge that we are cared for, that we are not lost...
Anything that is left can be no more than the discovery of this fact. We do not exist in any kind of gloomy uncertainty; we exist through the God who was gracious to us before we existed at all.
It may be true that we exist in contradiction to this God, that we live in remoteness from Him, indeed in hostility to Him. It is truer still that God has prepared reconciliation for us, before we entered the struggle against Him.
Anything that is left can be no more than the discovery of this fact. We do not exist in any kind of gloomy uncertainty; we exist through the God who was gracious to us before we existed at all.
It may be true that we exist in contradiction to this God, that we live in remoteness from Him, indeed in hostility to Him. It is truer still that God has prepared reconciliation for us, before we entered the struggle against Him.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Yeah! Come On! Uggh!
Radical grandmothers who take glee in shocking a younger generation will rush to buy this year’s Christmas number one single for their own children’s offspring.
Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name Of” is very different to the typical Christmas concoctions purveyed by Cliff Richard or a vacuum-packed star of reality television.
The song is a work of blistering indignation at the alleged presence of Ku Klux Klan members in American police forces.
It is unlikely the Tabasco-fiery lyrics will win a place on the GCSE English Literature syllabus anytime soon. However, frontman Zack de la Rocha‘s wonderful line “Yeah! Come on! Uggh!” is a more eloquent and effective appeal to listeners to free themselves from the shackles of conformity than those found in many purple-prosed protest songs of the 1960s.
The profusion of cross words in the later stanzas render this an unsuitable song to be played in supermarkets during the final lurches of December’s orgy of spending. But, oddly, the Zapatista-supporting band may have crafted a song which is more in keeping with the historic spirit of Christmas than any Mistletoe and Wine malarkey.
The Gospel of Luke records that Mary burst into song shortly after the angel Gabriel had told her of the miraculous birth in which she would play so pivotal a role. Her response was to sing of redistributive economics and social transformation:
“He puts forth his arm in strength
And scatters the proud-hearted.
He casts the mighty from their thrones
And raises the lowly.
He fills the starving with good things,
Sends the rich away empty.”
This is a sentiment which Zack de la Rocha might consider merits a “Yeah! Come on! Uggh!”.
Bob Dylan earlier this year released a Christmas album which was seen by many as the latest flourish of surreal contrarianism which has characterised his epic career. But hearing a voice as rough as the bark on an old tree sing carols strips these songs of choirboy kitsch.
In an interview in the Big Issue, the legendary music writer Bill Flanagan said to Dylan: “There’s something almost defiant in the way you sing, ‘The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.’ I don’t want to put you on the spot, but you sure deliver that song like a true believer.”
“Well,” Dylan replied, “I am a true believer.”
At the end of the noughties we have reason-a-plenty to rage against the machine.
Yet the idea that the perfect expression of cosmos-defining power might be found not in oppressive imperial might but in the vulnerability of the manger astounds in any century.
When the character of a deity is revealed not by what it can take or destroy but what it gives, then love, tenderness, generosity and mercy are revealed to be revolutionary acts which work with the grain of the universe.
Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name Of” is very different to the typical Christmas concoctions purveyed by Cliff Richard or a vacuum-packed star of reality television.
The song is a work of blistering indignation at the alleged presence of Ku Klux Klan members in American police forces.
It is unlikely the Tabasco-fiery lyrics will win a place on the GCSE English Literature syllabus anytime soon. However, frontman Zack de la Rocha‘s wonderful line “Yeah! Come on! Uggh!” is a more eloquent and effective appeal to listeners to free themselves from the shackles of conformity than those found in many purple-prosed protest songs of the 1960s.
The profusion of cross words in the later stanzas render this an unsuitable song to be played in supermarkets during the final lurches of December’s orgy of spending. But, oddly, the Zapatista-supporting band may have crafted a song which is more in keeping with the historic spirit of Christmas than any Mistletoe and Wine malarkey.
The Gospel of Luke records that Mary burst into song shortly after the angel Gabriel had told her of the miraculous birth in which she would play so pivotal a role. Her response was to sing of redistributive economics and social transformation:
“He puts forth his arm in strength
And scatters the proud-hearted.
He casts the mighty from their thrones
And raises the lowly.
He fills the starving with good things,
Sends the rich away empty.”
This is a sentiment which Zack de la Rocha might consider merits a “Yeah! Come on! Uggh!”.
Bob Dylan earlier this year released a Christmas album which was seen by many as the latest flourish of surreal contrarianism which has characterised his epic career. But hearing a voice as rough as the bark on an old tree sing carols strips these songs of choirboy kitsch.
In an interview in the Big Issue, the legendary music writer Bill Flanagan said to Dylan: “There’s something almost defiant in the way you sing, ‘The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.’ I don’t want to put you on the spot, but you sure deliver that song like a true believer.”
“Well,” Dylan replied, “I am a true believer.”
At the end of the noughties we have reason-a-plenty to rage against the machine.
Yet the idea that the perfect expression of cosmos-defining power might be found not in oppressive imperial might but in the vulnerability of the manger astounds in any century.
When the character of a deity is revealed not by what it can take or destroy but what it gives, then love, tenderness, generosity and mercy are revealed to be revolutionary acts which work with the grain of the universe.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
A Monday in the Snow with Two Dogs
This Christmas we're hosting a delightfully neurotic dog named Lyra.
Very slowly, she's becoming more sociable.
Andrew provides some unique therapy.
The arrival of snow has set things back a little bit.
But it's been terrific fun for the rest of us.
Snow in Northern Ireland isn't the powdery dust that falls on the Alps. This is solid, crunchy ice. But it's been tremendous fun to throw it around.
Ratzinger on Tuesday
Israel insisted it had no god of its own but only the God of all people and of the whole universe; it was convinced that precisely for this reason it alone worshipped the real God. I do not have God until I no longer have any god of my own but only trust the God who is as much the next man's God as minem because we both belong to him.
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.136
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.136
Monday, December 21, 2009
Barth on Monday
Resurrection means not the continuation of this life, but life's completion. To this man a 'Yes' is spoken which the shadow of death cannot touch...
The Christian hope does not lead us away from this life; it is rather the uncovering of the truth in which God sees our life.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p.145
The Christian hope does not lead us away from this life; it is rather the uncovering of the truth in which God sees our life.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p.145
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Cabin Fever
We live in a deeply strange world in which you cannot board an aeroplane with a pair of nail-clippers but you can carry on a screaming two-year-old who harbours a desire to dismantle the aircraft and stick his rusk into the pilot’s ear.
Yet, in the days on either side of Christmas thousands of strangers will squeeze onto planes with their iPods turned up to the volumes last heard during the eruption of Krakatoa to drown out the exclamations of thrilled infants in the early stages of language development.
The days of smoking cabins are long gone but inexplicably nobody has come up with the idea of a zone in which babies and toddlers could frolic en masse away from grown ups, who could use the time seeing if it is possible to sleep without drooling on the shoulder of an accountant from Chepstow.
Public relations experts have no doubt talked airline executives out of pursuing such concepts on the grounds it would unleash the accusation of not being “child friendly”.
But such a furore could be avoided by decorating this section of the plane with images of Winnie the Pooh covering world landmarks in honey. And perhaps the steward could dress as a Viking?
It is not that modern adults have any objection to bouncing a youngster filled with chocolate and Haribo on their knee at 36,000ft – but the experience is less traumatic if he or she is a cherished young relative and not the miniature anarchist who has just dropped out of the overhead cabin.
But perhaps airline operators have a moral onus to make flying as horrendous an experience as possible in these days of carbon-counting?
In the coming year we should not be surprised if zealous MPs introduce private member’s legislation so that only those desperate to travel would climb a gangway. Would you ever board a plane if you knew it was compulsory to place your feet in cold jelly?
But the wonder of being able to fly still startles humans who as a species have spent centuries looking at pterodactyls, condors and puffins with envy and wished we could take to the skies.
If new ways of powering planes are discovered in the near future and we can fly again with a happy conscience, then we should grasp the incredible opportunities for social advancement created by air travel.
The seats should be rearranged so we face each other and the great problems of our international age are debated.
Each jumbo is a mini-United Nations. If planes become tools for, not just transit but border-busting empathy and creativity, then the wild-haired three-year-old to your right will have less to scream about when he grows up.
Yet, in the days on either side of Christmas thousands of strangers will squeeze onto planes with their iPods turned up to the volumes last heard during the eruption of Krakatoa to drown out the exclamations of thrilled infants in the early stages of language development.
The days of smoking cabins are long gone but inexplicably nobody has come up with the idea of a zone in which babies and toddlers could frolic en masse away from grown ups, who could use the time seeing if it is possible to sleep without drooling on the shoulder of an accountant from Chepstow.
Public relations experts have no doubt talked airline executives out of pursuing such concepts on the grounds it would unleash the accusation of not being “child friendly”.
But such a furore could be avoided by decorating this section of the plane with images of Winnie the Pooh covering world landmarks in honey. And perhaps the steward could dress as a Viking?
It is not that modern adults have any objection to bouncing a youngster filled with chocolate and Haribo on their knee at 36,000ft – but the experience is less traumatic if he or she is a cherished young relative and not the miniature anarchist who has just dropped out of the overhead cabin.
But perhaps airline operators have a moral onus to make flying as horrendous an experience as possible in these days of carbon-counting?
In the coming year we should not be surprised if zealous MPs introduce private member’s legislation so that only those desperate to travel would climb a gangway. Would you ever board a plane if you knew it was compulsory to place your feet in cold jelly?
But the wonder of being able to fly still startles humans who as a species have spent centuries looking at pterodactyls, condors and puffins with envy and wished we could take to the skies.
If new ways of powering planes are discovered in the near future and we can fly again with a happy conscience, then we should grasp the incredible opportunities for social advancement created by air travel.
The seats should be rearranged so we face each other and the great problems of our international age are debated.
Each jumbo is a mini-United Nations. If planes become tools for, not just transit but border-busting empathy and creativity, then the wild-haired three-year-old to your right will have less to scream about when he grows up.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Ratzinger on Tuesday
[Israel's faith] is simultaneously a renunciation of the attempt to keep one's own possessions safe, a renunciation of the fear that tries to tame the mysterious by worshipping it, and an assent to the one God of heaven as the power that guarantees everything; it signifies the courage to entrust oneself to the power that governs the whole world without grasping the divine in one's hands.
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.111-112
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.111-112
Monday, December 14, 2009
Nobody Expects to See An Angel in the Morning
Churchgoing is not put in the same category as hang-gliding, snow-boarding, or free-climbing.
It is not an activity associated with the word “extreme”.
We do not think of the Sunday morning practice of coming together to sing hymns and hear a sermon as a fundamentally risky thing to do.
In fact, church – with its comforting blend of ritual and routine – could almost be called predictable.
And yet,
In Matthew 18:20, Jesus – God incarnate – tells his disciples:
“For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.”
Christians love the idea of one day entering heaven and seeing Jesus amid a cloud of angels.
Yet how utterly terrifying it would be to arrive at church early one morning,
Unlock the front door,
Turn on the lights,
Turn round,
And see an angel.
We would leap out of our skin in fear at this encounter with the supernatural.
Sure,
We are comfortable reading and singing about the realms of heaven.
Over the years we craft in our imagination a picture of its landscape and its creatures.
It is a place we associate with the afterlife,
Not with the now.
Encountering the reality of the heavenly in the everyday
Is as great as the difference
Between going to the zoo to see a tiger one morning
And waking up one morning in the tiger’s cage.
The acclaimed nature writer Annie Dillard has regularly written about religion.
She has been astonished at this gap between the wild wonder of the God the church testifies to and the easygoing nonchalance of our rhythms and rituals.
She wrote in 1982:
“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of the conditions.
Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke?
Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it?
The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning.
It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church;
we should all be wearing crash helmets.
Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares;
they should lash us to our pews.
For the sleeping god may wake some day and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.”
The Gospel-writer Luke opens his story with a supernatural encounter in which a religious man and woman are pulled into a world of miracles.
We are introduced to Zechariah, a priest,
And his wife Elizabeth.
We read in chapter 1:
“Both of them were upright in the sight of God,
Observing all the Lord’s commandments and regulations blamelessly.
But they had no children,
Because Elizabeth was barren;
And they were both well along in years.”
We meet Zechariah on a major day in his life.
According to the NIV Bible commentary:
“As one of about 18,000 priests,
Zechariah serves in the temple twice a year,
but only once in his life does he get to assist in the daily offering by going into the holy place.
This honour had fallen to him by lot.
His job was to offer incense, a picture of intercession rising to God.”
Zechariah exists in a world where rituals operate with the finely-tuned precision of a Swiss watch.
This is the era of “Herod the Great”.
He ranks alongside the Sheriff of Nottingham and Darth Vader
In popular memory as a despicable character.
Yes, he rebuilt the Temple where Zechariah worshipped a God of justice and power,
But the Herodians lived a decadent life,
And they were experts at manipulating religion for political ends.
This is the Herod who will order the slaughter of all boys aged two and younger.
The people of Israel are not living in a golden age.
But something astonishing happens this day.
God knows that Zechariah is a man for whom religion is more than performance art.
He sends the angel Gabriel to interrupt his reality.
We read:
“[An] angel of the Lord appeared to him,
Standing at the right side of the altar of incense.
When Zechariah saw him,
He was startled and was gripped with fear.”
All of us have probably felt the spooky sensation of being in a silent building and then wondering if we are alone.
Every culture seems to have folk stories of ghosts appearing.
So it is a very human response to leap with fear if an angel is suddenly standing in front of you.
It is also a very human response to become immediately conscious of your sin and shame when encountering the holy.
Just as the dirt and grime on your fingertips shows up under UV light,
We never feel filthier than when we meet someone who can exist in the presence of a holy God.
A few chapters later,
Luke tells the story of when Jesus gives a group of fishermen a miraculous catch of fish.
What is Peter’s reaction?
We read in Luke 5:8:
“When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!’”
We buy bleach to kill germs and wipe surfaces clean.
When we compare our puny and so-fallible selves with the power and purity of God,
It seems logical he should treat us as if we were bacteria on a work-surface.
God who created life, by definition,
Has the power to end it.
It seems right that when he is confronted with sin
He should torch it from his creation.
There is a sense in which God’s power is the most dangerous force in the universe.
But it is this God who time and time again draws us into his presence.
The message of the Gospels is that he does deal with sin.
But instead of destroying the creatures who are infected with this disease –
In the way that Government officials might wipe out herds of cattle carrying foot and mouth disease –
Through the death and resurrection of Jesus God cures us.
Not only that,
In the present day,
He pours out his Holy Spirit on his people.
The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 6: 19-20:
“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit,
Who is in you,
Whom you have received from God?
You are not your own;
You were bought at a price.
Therefore honour God with your body.”
Incredible as it is to read of Zechariah’s meeting with the angel in the Temple,
Even more amazing is the revelation that God now makes us his dwelling.
This is a wonderful but frightening prospect.
CS Lewis portrayed the mighty majesty of the God of the Bible through his allegorical depiction of the lion Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia.
In The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe,
The children Susan and Lucy ask Mr and Mrs Beaver to describe Aslan and ask if he is a man.
Mrs Beaver replies:
“‘Aslan a man? Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the woods and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion.’
‘Ooh!’ said Susan. ‘I’d thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.’
‘That you will, dearie, and make no mistake,’ said Mrs. Beaver, ‘if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.’
‘Then he isn’t safe?’ said Lucy.
‘Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver. ‘Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.’”
And what message does the angel who serves the God who is the definition of good deliver to the future father of John the Baptist?
We read:
“[The] angel said to him:
‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah;
Your prayer has been heard.
Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son,
And you are to give him the name John.
He will be a joy and a delight to you,
And many will rejoice because of his birth,
For he will be great in the sight of the Lord.’”
God promised a gift, great honour and healing to Zechariah and Elizabeth.
The God who had crafted Adam from dust
Would make the barren Elizabeth a mother.
He would give them joy and delight.
And 2,000 years later,
We would still be telling the story of these parents of a prophet.
Their son, John,
Would dedicate his life to preparing the way for Jesus to deliver his message.
Christ would give his very life to create a people who could be healed of sin and filled with the Holy Spirit.
Here is a gift, an honour, healing, joy and delight which should define our lives and our world.
The angel tells Zechariah that his son will be “filled with the Holy Spirit even from birth”.
And when John is born,
We read that his father “was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied”.
He exclaims a spectacular work of poetry which predicts that John’s life as a prophet will bring the story of the Jewish people towards a moment of glorious climax when God will honour his oath to the patriarch Abraham “to enable us to serve him without fear”.
Zechariah addresses the infant John with these words:
“And you,
My child,
Will be called a prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on to prepare the way for him,
To give his people the knowledge of salvation
Through the forgiveness of their sins,
Because of the tender mercy of our God,
By which the rising sun
Will come to us from heaven
To shine on those living in darkness
And in the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the path of peace.”
This knowledge of salvation has been given to us.
God’s tender mercy is being revealed in our lifetimes to more people
In more languages
Than at any time in history.
People in their millions are touched by the light of the risen son
And new members of the family of God are streaming onto the path of peace.
The might and holiness of God should still make us tremble,
But in comparison with the glory and power of Yahweh,
There is no natural threat or human authority which should make us quake.
God is the only one worthy of reverent fear.
When the British naval hero Nelson perished,
A proclamation was issued:
“Britons!
Your Nelson is dead!
Trust not in an Arm of Flesh, but in the Living God!
What said the brave Nelson, Duncan, Howe?
‘God hath given us the Victory!’
His Arm is not cold in Death, nor shortened, that it cannot save.
Britons!
Fear God,
Fear Sin,
And Then Fear Nothing!”
Without wishing to make a theological judgement on British foreign policy during the Napoleonic wars,
These words do contain stirring and wise advice.
As David wrote in Psalm 27:
“The LORD is my light and my salvation -
Whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life -
Of whom shall I be afraid?”
James Cameron, the director of modern epics
Including Titanic and Avatar
Has a reputation as a fearsome master of his craft;
Film crews sign-up to work for him in a high state
Of excitement and trepidation.
A popular t-shirt worn on his film sets reads:
“You Can’t Scare Me – I Work For Jim Cameron.”
The visionary genius of God
Eclipses any projections
Of a filmmaker’s imagination.
Not only does God want us as part of his crew,
He wants us in his family.
As the writer of Hebrews said in 2:11:
“Both the one who makes men holy
And those who are made holy
Are of the same family.
So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers.”
The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is one of the least remembered elements of the Nativity narrative.
Yet it is this story with which Luke chooses to open his account of Christ’s work.
It immediately foreground Gabriel’s visit to Mary.
When meeting the young woman who will soon be the mother of Jesus,
The angel exclaims:
“Do not be afraid, Mary,
You have found favour with God.
You will be with child and give birth to a son
And you are to give him the name Jesus.
He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.
The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David,
And he will reign over the house of Jacob forever;
His kingdom will never end.”
Here again, the angel is overturning the laws of nature and transforming someone’s world.
With Elizabeth, a barren womb would soon bear a son.
And Mary, a virgin, would conceive.
Each event was miraculous,
And accompanied by a prophecy that their children would play a defining role in God’s plan for the cosmos.
The cosmos?
Yes,
This was not just good news
For the Hebrew people
But was a cause for joy beyond the realms of human experience.
In chapter two of Luke,
An angel appears to a group of shepherds with the words:
“Do not be afraid.
I bring you news of great joy that will be for all the people.”
The sky is then fills with an angelic choir singing:
“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace to men
On whom his favour rests.”
And in Luke’s second book,
The Acts of the Apostles,
The story opens with Pentecost
And we see how God’s favour comes to rest on men.
This was the day when the Holy Spirit descended in the form of tongues of fire on the disciples.
We read in 2:4:
“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit
And began to speak with other tongues
As the Spirit enabled them.”
They were given the vocabulary to tell the people who had gathered from
Across the world in Jerusalem
About the wonderful work God was doing in their midst.
Fishermen such as Peter lost any fear of public speaking
And preached sermons which spurred the conversion of about 3,000 people that day.
As the story continues,
The disciples will lose their fear of defilement and bring Gentiles into the heart of the church.
Luke wrote his Gospel, he explained,
So the reader would know “the certainty of the things you have been taught.”
We are part of the story.
New chapters are added in each generation.
Angels are never far away
The ancient Spartans had a proverb:
“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.”
The pioneering psychologist CJ Jung
Had this enscribed over the doorway of his house.
We should do well to remember it…
Not as a reason to live in fear.
Not because we live under the close examination of a celestial CCTV system.
But because the one who loves us fiercely,
And who is daily leading us deeper into his presence
Is alive and present
And we do not need to be afraid.
It is not an activity associated with the word “extreme”.
We do not think of the Sunday morning practice of coming together to sing hymns and hear a sermon as a fundamentally risky thing to do.
In fact, church – with its comforting blend of ritual and routine – could almost be called predictable.
And yet,
In Matthew 18:20, Jesus – God incarnate – tells his disciples:
“For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.”
Christians love the idea of one day entering heaven and seeing Jesus amid a cloud of angels.
Yet how utterly terrifying it would be to arrive at church early one morning,
Unlock the front door,
Turn on the lights,
Turn round,
And see an angel.
We would leap out of our skin in fear at this encounter with the supernatural.
Sure,
We are comfortable reading and singing about the realms of heaven.
Over the years we craft in our imagination a picture of its landscape and its creatures.
It is a place we associate with the afterlife,
Not with the now.
Encountering the reality of the heavenly in the everyday
Is as great as the difference
Between going to the zoo to see a tiger one morning
And waking up one morning in the tiger’s cage.
The acclaimed nature writer Annie Dillard has regularly written about religion.
She has been astonished at this gap between the wild wonder of the God the church testifies to and the easygoing nonchalance of our rhythms and rituals.
She wrote in 1982:
“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of the conditions.
Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke?
Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it?
The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning.
It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church;
we should all be wearing crash helmets.
Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares;
they should lash us to our pews.
For the sleeping god may wake some day and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.”
The Gospel-writer Luke opens his story with a supernatural encounter in which a religious man and woman are pulled into a world of miracles.
We are introduced to Zechariah, a priest,
And his wife Elizabeth.
We read in chapter 1:
“Both of them were upright in the sight of God,
Observing all the Lord’s commandments and regulations blamelessly.
But they had no children,
Because Elizabeth was barren;
And they were both well along in years.”
We meet Zechariah on a major day in his life.
According to the NIV Bible commentary:
“As one of about 18,000 priests,
Zechariah serves in the temple twice a year,
but only once in his life does he get to assist in the daily offering by going into the holy place.
This honour had fallen to him by lot.
His job was to offer incense, a picture of intercession rising to God.”
Zechariah exists in a world where rituals operate with the finely-tuned precision of a Swiss watch.
This is the era of “Herod the Great”.
He ranks alongside the Sheriff of Nottingham and Darth Vader
In popular memory as a despicable character.
Yes, he rebuilt the Temple where Zechariah worshipped a God of justice and power,
But the Herodians lived a decadent life,
And they were experts at manipulating religion for political ends.
This is the Herod who will order the slaughter of all boys aged two and younger.
The people of Israel are not living in a golden age.
But something astonishing happens this day.
God knows that Zechariah is a man for whom religion is more than performance art.
He sends the angel Gabriel to interrupt his reality.
We read:
“[An] angel of the Lord appeared to him,
Standing at the right side of the altar of incense.
When Zechariah saw him,
He was startled and was gripped with fear.”
All of us have probably felt the spooky sensation of being in a silent building and then wondering if we are alone.
Every culture seems to have folk stories of ghosts appearing.
So it is a very human response to leap with fear if an angel is suddenly standing in front of you.
It is also a very human response to become immediately conscious of your sin and shame when encountering the holy.
Just as the dirt and grime on your fingertips shows up under UV light,
We never feel filthier than when we meet someone who can exist in the presence of a holy God.
A few chapters later,
Luke tells the story of when Jesus gives a group of fishermen a miraculous catch of fish.
What is Peter’s reaction?
We read in Luke 5:8:
“When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!’”
We buy bleach to kill germs and wipe surfaces clean.
When we compare our puny and so-fallible selves with the power and purity of God,
It seems logical he should treat us as if we were bacteria on a work-surface.
God who created life, by definition,
Has the power to end it.
It seems right that when he is confronted with sin
He should torch it from his creation.
There is a sense in which God’s power is the most dangerous force in the universe.
But it is this God who time and time again draws us into his presence.
The message of the Gospels is that he does deal with sin.
But instead of destroying the creatures who are infected with this disease –
In the way that Government officials might wipe out herds of cattle carrying foot and mouth disease –
Through the death and resurrection of Jesus God cures us.
Not only that,
In the present day,
He pours out his Holy Spirit on his people.
The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 6: 19-20:
“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit,
Who is in you,
Whom you have received from God?
You are not your own;
You were bought at a price.
Therefore honour God with your body.”
Incredible as it is to read of Zechariah’s meeting with the angel in the Temple,
Even more amazing is the revelation that God now makes us his dwelling.
This is a wonderful but frightening prospect.
CS Lewis portrayed the mighty majesty of the God of the Bible through his allegorical depiction of the lion Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia.
In The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe,
The children Susan and Lucy ask Mr and Mrs Beaver to describe Aslan and ask if he is a man.
Mrs Beaver replies:
“‘Aslan a man? Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the woods and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion.’
‘Ooh!’ said Susan. ‘I’d thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.’
‘That you will, dearie, and make no mistake,’ said Mrs. Beaver, ‘if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.’
‘Then he isn’t safe?’ said Lucy.
‘Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver. ‘Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.’”
And what message does the angel who serves the God who is the definition of good deliver to the future father of John the Baptist?
We read:
“[The] angel said to him:
‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah;
Your prayer has been heard.
Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son,
And you are to give him the name John.
He will be a joy and a delight to you,
And many will rejoice because of his birth,
For he will be great in the sight of the Lord.’”
God promised a gift, great honour and healing to Zechariah and Elizabeth.
The God who had crafted Adam from dust
Would make the barren Elizabeth a mother.
He would give them joy and delight.
And 2,000 years later,
We would still be telling the story of these parents of a prophet.
Their son, John,
Would dedicate his life to preparing the way for Jesus to deliver his message.
Christ would give his very life to create a people who could be healed of sin and filled with the Holy Spirit.
Here is a gift, an honour, healing, joy and delight which should define our lives and our world.
The angel tells Zechariah that his son will be “filled with the Holy Spirit even from birth”.
And when John is born,
We read that his father “was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied”.
He exclaims a spectacular work of poetry which predicts that John’s life as a prophet will bring the story of the Jewish people towards a moment of glorious climax when God will honour his oath to the patriarch Abraham “to enable us to serve him without fear”.
Zechariah addresses the infant John with these words:
“And you,
My child,
Will be called a prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on to prepare the way for him,
To give his people the knowledge of salvation
Through the forgiveness of their sins,
Because of the tender mercy of our God,
By which the rising sun
Will come to us from heaven
To shine on those living in darkness
And in the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the path of peace.”
This knowledge of salvation has been given to us.
God’s tender mercy is being revealed in our lifetimes to more people
In more languages
Than at any time in history.
People in their millions are touched by the light of the risen son
And new members of the family of God are streaming onto the path of peace.
The might and holiness of God should still make us tremble,
But in comparison with the glory and power of Yahweh,
There is no natural threat or human authority which should make us quake.
God is the only one worthy of reverent fear.
When the British naval hero Nelson perished,
A proclamation was issued:
“Britons!
Your Nelson is dead!
Trust not in an Arm of Flesh, but in the Living God!
What said the brave Nelson, Duncan, Howe?
‘God hath given us the Victory!’
His Arm is not cold in Death, nor shortened, that it cannot save.
Britons!
Fear God,
Fear Sin,
And Then Fear Nothing!”
Without wishing to make a theological judgement on British foreign policy during the Napoleonic wars,
These words do contain stirring and wise advice.
As David wrote in Psalm 27:
“The LORD is my light and my salvation -
Whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life -
Of whom shall I be afraid?”
James Cameron, the director of modern epics
Including Titanic and Avatar
Has a reputation as a fearsome master of his craft;
Film crews sign-up to work for him in a high state
Of excitement and trepidation.
A popular t-shirt worn on his film sets reads:
“You Can’t Scare Me – I Work For Jim Cameron.”
The visionary genius of God
Eclipses any projections
Of a filmmaker’s imagination.
Not only does God want us as part of his crew,
He wants us in his family.
As the writer of Hebrews said in 2:11:
“Both the one who makes men holy
And those who are made holy
Are of the same family.
So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers.”
The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is one of the least remembered elements of the Nativity narrative.
Yet it is this story with which Luke chooses to open his account of Christ’s work.
It immediately foreground Gabriel’s visit to Mary.
When meeting the young woman who will soon be the mother of Jesus,
The angel exclaims:
“Do not be afraid, Mary,
You have found favour with God.
You will be with child and give birth to a son
And you are to give him the name Jesus.
He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.
The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David,
And he will reign over the house of Jacob forever;
His kingdom will never end.”
Here again, the angel is overturning the laws of nature and transforming someone’s world.
With Elizabeth, a barren womb would soon bear a son.
And Mary, a virgin, would conceive.
Each event was miraculous,
And accompanied by a prophecy that their children would play a defining role in God’s plan for the cosmos.
The cosmos?
Yes,
This was not just good news
For the Hebrew people
But was a cause for joy beyond the realms of human experience.
In chapter two of Luke,
An angel appears to a group of shepherds with the words:
“Do not be afraid.
I bring you news of great joy that will be for all the people.”
The sky is then fills with an angelic choir singing:
“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace to men
On whom his favour rests.”
And in Luke’s second book,
The Acts of the Apostles,
The story opens with Pentecost
And we see how God’s favour comes to rest on men.
This was the day when the Holy Spirit descended in the form of tongues of fire on the disciples.
We read in 2:4:
“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit
And began to speak with other tongues
As the Spirit enabled them.”
They were given the vocabulary to tell the people who had gathered from
Across the world in Jerusalem
About the wonderful work God was doing in their midst.
Fishermen such as Peter lost any fear of public speaking
And preached sermons which spurred the conversion of about 3,000 people that day.
As the story continues,
The disciples will lose their fear of defilement and bring Gentiles into the heart of the church.
Luke wrote his Gospel, he explained,
So the reader would know “the certainty of the things you have been taught.”
We are part of the story.
New chapters are added in each generation.
Angels are never far away
The ancient Spartans had a proverb:
“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.”
The pioneering psychologist CJ Jung
Had this enscribed over the doorway of his house.
We should do well to remember it…
Not as a reason to live in fear.
Not because we live under the close examination of a celestial CCTV system.
But because the one who loves us fiercely,
And who is daily leading us deeper into his presence
Is alive and present
And we do not need to be afraid.
Barth on Monday
The Christ message is, let me repeat, not one truth among others; it is the truth. In thinking of God, we have from the beginning to think of the name of Jesus Christ...
So we confront God. God really encompasses us in Jesus Christ 'on every side'. Here there is no escape, But there is also no drop into nothingness. In pronouncing the name of Jesus Christ we are on a way.
'I am the way, the truth and the life.' That is the way through time, the centre of which He is; and the way has an origin which lies not in darkness...
[T]he very future bears His name, Jesus Christ.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p.60-61
So we confront God. God really encompasses us in Jesus Christ 'on every side'. Here there is no escape, But there is also no drop into nothingness. In pronouncing the name of Jesus Christ we are on a way.
'I am the way, the truth and the life.' That is the way through time, the centre of which He is; and the way has an origin which lies not in darkness...
[T]he very future bears His name, Jesus Christ.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p.60-61
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Bob & Belief
The Big Issue recently featured a sporadically fascinating Bob Dylan interview with the mighty Bill Flanagan, a legend among music writers. One extract:
You really give a heroic performance of ‘O’ Little Town Of Bethlehem’. The way you do it reminds me a little of an Irish rebel song. There’s something almost defiant in the way you sing, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” I don’t want to put you on the spot, but you sure deliver that song like a true believer.
Well, I am a true believer.
Dressing-gown Dancing
Do you hunger for music which rings with the splash of truth and beauty in torrent?
I don’t want to hear a 19-year-old with a string of Antisocial Behaviour Orders and a recording contract singing about what he plans to do with my hub-caps. I want to hear melody and poetry fuse into something which will enthuse the soul.
I raided my musically-literate brother’s iPod in search of authentic musicians who record songs played on a two-stringed banjo in kitchens lit by flickering lightbulbs.
The hitch was that, while I like the idea of listening to a pipe-smoking sheep-rustler from West Virginia with one-leg, I’ve learned that such artists are unlikely to produce songs which make you want to leap around before breakfast on a Saturday morning.
Feeling like a weary argonaut beginning to doubt the existence of golden sheep, I flicked on the bathroom radio expecting to hear nothing more stimulating than the sound of a cat-flap rattling in the wind.
But out of the plastic speaker came music of surging melody, tunefulness in excelsis. “This is it!” I thought. “Music that roars with ancient beauty in the electricity age!” Was this a new work by a Montreal band with a knack for avant garde orchestral exploration?”
Nope. To my horror, when the lyrics kicked in I discovered this was the nine-year-old single, Reach, by S Club 7 – a group of sunny singers in various stages of advanced adolescence cobbled together by the former manager of the Spice Girls.
I leapt in terror as if a scorpion the size of a bendybus had appeared in the bath.
This experience still unnerves me. Is music which tickles the ears of billions actually a greater work of communicative genius than the strummings of a critically acclaimed scarf-wearing backwoodsman?
A friend recently played me his favourite number by uber-literate songsmith, Nick Cave.
The lyrics were terrific:
John Willmot, penned his poetry riddled with the pox,
Nabakov wrote on index cards, at a lectern, in his socks.
But what made the song so rollicking was an infectious tune which reminded me of the rhythms of Robbie Williams’ Let me Entertain You.
And when in a car recently in which a Sarah Brightman CD was playing, I heard at least one track which I keep humming like a bee that dreams of Broadway.
In fact, while Christmas shopping, for the first time in my life I bought an album from the Easy Listening rack. I crossed that rubicon to buy a Katie Melua CD – but – believe me! – only because I liked her cover of a Leonard Cohen song.
I have yet to ever go to bed with a mug of Horlicks, but I’m sure that kettle is boiling.
I don’t want to hear a 19-year-old with a string of Antisocial Behaviour Orders and a recording contract singing about what he plans to do with my hub-caps. I want to hear melody and poetry fuse into something which will enthuse the soul.
I raided my musically-literate brother’s iPod in search of authentic musicians who record songs played on a two-stringed banjo in kitchens lit by flickering lightbulbs.
The hitch was that, while I like the idea of listening to a pipe-smoking sheep-rustler from West Virginia with one-leg, I’ve learned that such artists are unlikely to produce songs which make you want to leap around before breakfast on a Saturday morning.
Feeling like a weary argonaut beginning to doubt the existence of golden sheep, I flicked on the bathroom radio expecting to hear nothing more stimulating than the sound of a cat-flap rattling in the wind.
But out of the plastic speaker came music of surging melody, tunefulness in excelsis. “This is it!” I thought. “Music that roars with ancient beauty in the electricity age!” Was this a new work by a Montreal band with a knack for avant garde orchestral exploration?”
Nope. To my horror, when the lyrics kicked in I discovered this was the nine-year-old single, Reach, by S Club 7 – a group of sunny singers in various stages of advanced adolescence cobbled together by the former manager of the Spice Girls.
I leapt in terror as if a scorpion the size of a bendybus had appeared in the bath.
This experience still unnerves me. Is music which tickles the ears of billions actually a greater work of communicative genius than the strummings of a critically acclaimed scarf-wearing backwoodsman?
A friend recently played me his favourite number by uber-literate songsmith, Nick Cave.
The lyrics were terrific:
John Willmot, penned his poetry riddled with the pox,
Nabakov wrote on index cards, at a lectern, in his socks.
But what made the song so rollicking was an infectious tune which reminded me of the rhythms of Robbie Williams’ Let me Entertain You.
And when in a car recently in which a Sarah Brightman CD was playing, I heard at least one track which I keep humming like a bee that dreams of Broadway.
In fact, while Christmas shopping, for the first time in my life I bought an album from the Easy Listening rack. I crossed that rubicon to buy a Katie Melua CD – but – believe me! – only because I liked her cover of a Leonard Cohen song.
I have yet to ever go to bed with a mug of Horlicks, but I’m sure that kettle is boiling.
Sinead O'Connor v. Joseph Ratzinger
As you may have noticed in recent weeks, I've enjoyed reading Joseph Ratzinger's Introduction to Christianity. In fact, as this week's quote demonstrated, he has insightful things to say about the distinct terrains of religion and politics.
Yet now, in his role as Pope Benedict XVI, he is both the head of the world's largest faith group and the leader of a political body with a seat at the United Nations. And while his writings as a theologian are frequently moving and exciting, the 82-year-old's record as the head of a bureaucracy is more debatable.
The revelations that child abuse was systematically covered-up by the Catholic church in Dublin until the mid-1990s is devastating. Previous scandals in the past two decades have rocked Ireland and the church, but this is not a shaking of the establishment - it is more of an atomic blast.
The 720-page report said that instead of making child welfare the paramount priority, this was placed below "maintenance of secrecy, the avoidance of scandal, the protection of the reputation of the Church, and the preservation of its assets."
This makes this year's political scandal of MPs' merry abuse of the expenses system seem utterly trivial in comparison. But in that case, the phrase used by politicians from all parties who wanted to show they understood the gravity of the situation was "We get it".
Has the Catholic church "got it"? If Joseph Ratzinger can demonstrate in his remaining years in the Vatican that he does, then he can play a heroic role in tackling these crimes which have devastated congregations in so many countries.
The Irish songwriter and singer Sinead O'Connor has entered the fray, which should surprise no-one. In 1992 she responded to the latest child abuse discoveries by tearing up a photograph of the Pope while making a guest appearance on Saturday Night Live.
She has called for the resignation of the present Pope, and it is unlikely that this particular demand will prompt Ratzinger to retire to Germany. O'Connor is hardly a member of the Catholic establishment, given her love of Rastarfarianism and her ordination by Bishop Michael Cox of the Irish Orthodox Catholic and Apostolic Church.
O'Connor may have eccentricities, but she should not be written-off as as a self-publicist or an arch-controversialist. Her letter, and her music, reveals an engagement with the faith in which the fury is not dime-store anti-clericalism but outrage at true blasphemy.
She states:
As the leader of the denomination which has taken the story of Jesus to more people than any other faith group, Ratzinger is now in a moment when he needs this "calm composure". He must accept the challenge of the responsibility with which he is entrusted and needs to cleanse his house.
His predecessor, Pope John Paul II, confronted the tyranny of Communism with conviction and courage. The politics Ratzinger must now confront are the systems of power within his own church.
In the meantime, the scandal in Ireland will either complete the country's transformation into a European secular society or spur the greatest moment of reformation in the nation's spiritual history so far.
The country's banking system was rescued through a Government bail-out when the Republic seemed to teeter on the brink of bankruptcy. But the spiritual bankruptcy revealed by the Commission of Investigation needs a bail-out which neither the state nor the cardinals and bishops can provide; it will have to come from the grassroots, from the spiritual wealth of hundreds of thousands who still fill the pews each week.
One reason for hope this winter is that Christianity is about recognising sin and repenting - not just saying sorry, but turning 180 degrees and pursuing the right course of action with energy and joy. Every generation has to repent of its sins for the Gospel to be lived out; if this does not happen all churches have is self-righteous and prideful apathy, occasionally interrupted with the performance of rituals which have lost their meaning. The institutional crisis should thus be seized and embraced as an opportunity to repent and reform by all who believe in redemption.
Ireland has been the place where religion at its worst has been seen on so many occasions - from the atrocities of Cromwell right through to the sectarian slaughter of the Troubles. But despite the clear horror of tribal conflict and institutional corruption, corporate faith has survived even while religion has floundered. People from different strands of belief have all understood that for the healing of the island spiritual renewal is essential.
O'Connor looked to the Rastafarian experience and saw hope for her own divided nation, singing with brilliance and passion on her superb Faith & Courage album:
Yet now, in his role as Pope Benedict XVI, he is both the head of the world's largest faith group and the leader of a political body with a seat at the United Nations. And while his writings as a theologian are frequently moving and exciting, the 82-year-old's record as the head of a bureaucracy is more debatable.
The revelations that child abuse was systematically covered-up by the Catholic church in Dublin until the mid-1990s is devastating. Previous scandals in the past two decades have rocked Ireland and the church, but this is not a shaking of the establishment - it is more of an atomic blast.
The 720-page report said that instead of making child welfare the paramount priority, this was placed below "maintenance of secrecy, the avoidance of scandal, the protection of the reputation of the Church, and the preservation of its assets."
This makes this year's political scandal of MPs' merry abuse of the expenses system seem utterly trivial in comparison. But in that case, the phrase used by politicians from all parties who wanted to show they understood the gravity of the situation was "We get it".
Has the Catholic church "got it"? If Joseph Ratzinger can demonstrate in his remaining years in the Vatican that he does, then he can play a heroic role in tackling these crimes which have devastated congregations in so many countries.
The Irish songwriter and singer Sinead O'Connor has entered the fray, which should surprise no-one. In 1992 she responded to the latest child abuse discoveries by tearing up a photograph of the Pope while making a guest appearance on Saturday Night Live.
She has called for the resignation of the present Pope, and it is unlikely that this particular demand will prompt Ratzinger to retire to Germany. O'Connor is hardly a member of the Catholic establishment, given her love of Rastarfarianism and her ordination by Bishop Michael Cox of the Irish Orthodox Catholic and Apostolic Church.
O'Connor may have eccentricities, but she should not be written-off as as a self-publicist or an arch-controversialist. Her letter, and her music, reveals an engagement with the faith in which the fury is not dime-store anti-clericalism but outrage at true blasphemy.
She states:
We need to take back the church which is ours, not theirs. They are not fit to call themselves representatives of Christ. They never believed that God was watching, and they still act as though they don't think God is watching. But every one of them will have to meet their maker in the end, even the Pope himself. And if I were them I would be very afraid.The irony of sad scandal is that Ratzinger the theologian was at his best when describing how God is not just watching but present in all moments of life, and the consequences of this fact. He wrote: "[Christian belief] is an avowal of the primacy of the invisible as the truly real, which upholds us and hence enables us to face the visible with calm composure - knowing that we are responsible before the invisible as the true ground of all things."
As the leader of the denomination which has taken the story of Jesus to more people than any other faith group, Ratzinger is now in a moment when he needs this "calm composure". He must accept the challenge of the responsibility with which he is entrusted and needs to cleanse his house.
His predecessor, Pope John Paul II, confronted the tyranny of Communism with conviction and courage. The politics Ratzinger must now confront are the systems of power within his own church.
In the meantime, the scandal in Ireland will either complete the country's transformation into a European secular society or spur the greatest moment of reformation in the nation's spiritual history so far.
The country's banking system was rescued through a Government bail-out when the Republic seemed to teeter on the brink of bankruptcy. But the spiritual bankruptcy revealed by the Commission of Investigation needs a bail-out which neither the state nor the cardinals and bishops can provide; it will have to come from the grassroots, from the spiritual wealth of hundreds of thousands who still fill the pews each week.
One reason for hope this winter is that Christianity is about recognising sin and repenting - not just saying sorry, but turning 180 degrees and pursuing the right course of action with energy and joy. Every generation has to repent of its sins for the Gospel to be lived out; if this does not happen all churches have is self-righteous and prideful apathy, occasionally interrupted with the performance of rituals which have lost their meaning. The institutional crisis should thus be seized and embraced as an opportunity to repent and reform by all who believe in redemption.
Ireland has been the place where religion at its worst has been seen on so many occasions - from the atrocities of Cromwell right through to the sectarian slaughter of the Troubles. But despite the clear horror of tribal conflict and institutional corruption, corporate faith has survived even while religion has floundered. People from different strands of belief have all understood that for the healing of the island spiritual renewal is essential.
O'Connor looked to the Rastafarian experience and saw hope for her own divided nation, singing with brilliance and passion on her superb Faith & Courage album:
Out of history we have come
With great hatred and little room
It aims to break our hearts
Or wrecks us up and tear us all apart
But if we listen to the preacherman
He can show us how it can be done
To live in peace and live as one
Get our names back in the book of life of the lamb
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Ratzinger on Tuesday
[Faith] is not a matter of playing with ideas but a very serious business; it says no, and must say no, to the absoluteness of political power and to the worship of the mighty in general...
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.113
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.113
Monday, December 07, 2009
Barth on Monday
Everything that deserves to be called knowledge in the Christian sense lives from the knowledge of Jesus Christ.
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p.58
Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p.58
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Thursday, December 03, 2009
The Strange Case of Karl Barth
I don’t know if you’ve read Susannah Clarke’s book Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell? It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I found it a fantastic allegory for the development of theology in the 20th Century. Basically, it describes a world where magic has become stale and purely theoretical before the arrival of a couple of ‘practical’ magicians arrive on the scene. The same is true in theology: after the rigours of modernist thinking, theology became simply theoretical – a ‘talking about’ theology rather than a ‘doing of’ theology. After Barth, who simply got on with it and wrote what he thought, rather than tendering it with methodological caveats, theologians realised that the Enlightenment critique was actually not to the detriment of theology, it simply clarified the theological task to a greater degree. Why is Barth great? Because without Barth, we might not be ‘doing’ theology now – we might simply be ‘talking about’ theology.
Jon Mackenzie at Exiled Preacher
Federal Britain
One of the most stinging insults frequently fired across the debating chamber of the National Assembly is that an AM is behaving as if he or she were in Westminster.
This put-down is usually used if someone is braying or jeering in the style regularly witnessed during Prime Minister’s Questions. The Assembly is not known for verbal pyrotechnics of any kind.
The admonition can carry an extra sting if it implies that the member would secretly rather be sitting on Westminster’s green benches but has so far failed to be selected for a winnable seat.
As pressure grows across the party spectrum for the Assembly to gain new law-making powers and be firmly established as the natural place to create legislation shaping Welsh life, it may become more difficult for a Westminster-inclined politician to make the argument that he or she wants to head east.
However, if the United Kingdom is evolving towards a federal state, the devolved assemblies and the Scottish Parliament may increasingly be seen as the breeding ground for the top parliamentary talent.
In France, becoming a powerful mayor and proving that you can run a city constitutes a jump on the trampoline towards highest office. President Nicolas Sarkozy was mayor of Neuilly-sur-Seine from 1983 to 2002 where he pioneered some of his most cherished policies.
In Germany, this career path is firmly established. Former Chancellor Gerhard Schröder was Minister-president of Lower Saxony.
It is not seen as an act of abandonment to follow a successful career in a federal region by moving to the centre of power.
Indeed, in the United States voters have proven more willing to trust people who have been governors with the presidency than those who have spent years churning legislation in the. Senate.
There are now alternatives to the House of Commons for the ambitious UK idealist.
In a 60-seat Assembly, a member of a governing party stands a terrific chance of getting ministerial experience. And if they prove that they have a genius for sorting out Wales’ finances, reforming the health service or engaging citizens, a Prime Minister in London should covet such talent.
One retired Labour figure this week mused that if new Labour leader Carwyn Jones serves a decade as First Minister he will leave office while still in his early fifties. If he was in a country with a federalist tradition, a spell at the heart of the central government would seem the logical step.
In the meantime, the luminously ambitious London Mayor, Boris Johnson – the most senior elected Conservative in Britain with executive power – might venture back to Westminster and prove how useful the experience of leading a devolved region can prove to a political career; especially when many of his peers have never run a parish council.
This put-down is usually used if someone is braying or jeering in the style regularly witnessed during Prime Minister’s Questions. The Assembly is not known for verbal pyrotechnics of any kind.
The admonition can carry an extra sting if it implies that the member would secretly rather be sitting on Westminster’s green benches but has so far failed to be selected for a winnable seat.
As pressure grows across the party spectrum for the Assembly to gain new law-making powers and be firmly established as the natural place to create legislation shaping Welsh life, it may become more difficult for a Westminster-inclined politician to make the argument that he or she wants to head east.
However, if the United Kingdom is evolving towards a federal state, the devolved assemblies and the Scottish Parliament may increasingly be seen as the breeding ground for the top parliamentary talent.
In France, becoming a powerful mayor and proving that you can run a city constitutes a jump on the trampoline towards highest office. President Nicolas Sarkozy was mayor of Neuilly-sur-Seine from 1983 to 2002 where he pioneered some of his most cherished policies.
In Germany, this career path is firmly established. Former Chancellor Gerhard Schröder was Minister-president of Lower Saxony.
It is not seen as an act of abandonment to follow a successful career in a federal region by moving to the centre of power.
Indeed, in the United States voters have proven more willing to trust people who have been governors with the presidency than those who have spent years churning legislation in the. Senate.
There are now alternatives to the House of Commons for the ambitious UK idealist.
In a 60-seat Assembly, a member of a governing party stands a terrific chance of getting ministerial experience. And if they prove that they have a genius for sorting out Wales’ finances, reforming the health service or engaging citizens, a Prime Minister in London should covet such talent.
One retired Labour figure this week mused that if new Labour leader Carwyn Jones serves a decade as First Minister he will leave office while still in his early fifties. If he was in a country with a federalist tradition, a spell at the heart of the central government would seem the logical step.
In the meantime, the luminously ambitious London Mayor, Boris Johnson – the most senior elected Conservative in Britain with executive power – might venture back to Westminster and prove how useful the experience of leading a devolved region can prove to a political career; especially when many of his peers have never run a parish council.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Ratzinger on Tuesday
He is not the god of a place but the god of men: the god of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob... God is seen on the plane of I and You, not on the plane of the spatial. He thus moves away from the transcendence of the illimitable and by this fact shows himself to be he who is always (not just at one point) near, whose power is boundless.
He is not anywhere in particular; he is to be found at any place where man is and where man lets himself be found by him.
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.123
He is not anywhere in particular; he is to be found at any place where man is and where man lets himself be found by him.
Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, p.123
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