A Right Old Ding Dong... Or Is It?

In the past 24 hours I have, like everybody else in The British Isles, been totally smothered by the news blanket surrounding the death of Lady Thatcher.

What surprised me most was how much Russell Brand's article resonated with me. Like Brand, the vast majority of my childhood was spent growing up under the shadow of Margaret Thatcher... and like Brand, childhood insulated me against much of what was going on during much of that time.  I was also far more interested and preoccupied in things like Knight Rider, The A-Team, Airwolf, Transformers and Star Fleet to really notice.  I can tell you that my tender protozoic grasp of politics in the early 80's was limited to an understanding that "The Government are the good guys because... well they are the Government, it's their job" and an absolutely morbid gut-wrenching fear that I would be called up to fight in The Falklands War if it carried on until I was 16... because all I knew of relatively modern war was limited to what I had been taught about the World Wars, at school.

However, again like Russell Brand I have grown and have developed my own ideology and political world view... and I have my own understanding of what Lady Thatcher did to and/or for this country.

None of which I really want to focus on in this post.

Instead I want to look at the way that people have reacted to her death.  Without going into detail, I'm not a massive fan of a lot of Margaret Thatcher's policies... so from a political perspective, I'm unable to deeply mourn her loss.  As much as Thatcher has become the subject of hagiography through the granting of a ceremonial funeral and an emergency recall of Parliament to pay tribute and discuss her legacy, she has equally been the subject of demonising... such is/was her divisive nature. I see images of people throwing parties... placards, graffiti and tweets calling on Thatcher to "rot in pieces" or "burn in Hell", and heard the story of how there has been an active campaign to thrust Judy Garland's "Ding Dong The Witch is Dead" to the number one position in the music charts. These are things that turn my stomach. I was raised with the old fashioned idea that you should not speak ill of the dead - De mortuis nil nisi bonum. This puts me at odds with those who believe that  sentiment is just an old superstitious throwback to the notion that the dead could somehow retain power or influence over the living, and that while the tradition is still appropriate in the presence of people we have known privately... it doesn't need to be applicable to people who have lived in the public eye and had massive impact on the lives of everyone.

I'll let you into a little secret though.  It is not superstition... but a very real truth. You don't even have to believe in an afterlife to know this either. The simple fact is: if you allow yourself to be consumed by hatred and anger for any person - even after they are gone, then they do retain power and influence over you... because they are affecting your behaviour in a negative way. There have been many people throughout history who have committed atrocities worthy of utter loathing... and it is absolutely right that when we see acts of injustice and deep political wrongdoing, we treat them with the contempt they deserve.  Yet as a Christian I personally can't see how I can justify holding those feelings for a person while maintaining a belief that such an attitude is in any way compatible with a place in the Kingdom of God. I cannot see how continual hatred for a person (however disagreeable), is reconcilable with a relationship with the God of love.

Some might argue that 1 John 4:20 tells us that this is only so with respect to those whose beliefs we share, but I would argue that the parable of the Good Samaritan shows us that actually, the love God requires us to assume and the hatred he requires us to discard... go way beyond that. After all in the time  and culture of Christ, the Samaritans were regarded with utter hostility and yet it is the mercy of the "enemy" that is the key point of the story.

In fact God even illustrates his attitude to "bad people" in the Old Testament:

"Say to them, ‘As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways!"

Ezekiel 33:11a

If God takes no pleasure when the wicked decline or fall... why should we? Where is our justification?

Like it or not, however monstrous her policies were and no matter how her reputation or legacy present her... Margaret Thatcher was in fact just as human as you or I... as her decline into frailty so adequately demonstrated.

Russell Brand described Thatcher's end in these terms:

"The blunt, pathetic reality today is that a little old lady has died, who in the winter of her life had to water roses alone under police supervision. If you behave like there's no such thing as society, in the end there isn't."

If anything, if we consider a person to have died under a spell of evil... they are to be pitied... not loathed. So the question I find myself asking is this: If God does not express hatred towards a person (however bad), and is calling us to walk with him in love for the unloved and unlovable... then what good does hating do to a victim, especially when the subject of their hatred is no longer around to answer to it? How do they benefit from such rage? I do not mean to say that the pain and injustice felt by the many people who lost livelihoods or loved ones is not justified. I just wish to reemphasise that point I made earlier... that if we hold on to hatred for people... and let our actions be motivated by that negativity, then it is those people who are controlling us - not ourselves... and not God.

So what are we to do when we find ourselves confronted with such feelings?

Having been watching the third season of Babylon 5 recently, I keep finding my mind drifting back to the episode Dust to Dust. In this episode G'Kar - the renegade leader of a race called the Narns, takes a drug that grants him telepathic ability temporarily.  Whilst under its influence he seeks out his nemesis - Londo Mollari, who is the representative of a race of aliens who have bombed his world back into the stone age, slaughtered millions of his people and forced many survivors into slave camps.  He has every reason to be angry... he has lost everything. Yet in his rage, he has a quite unexpected epiphany:

 

I think the lesson G'Kar learns here is very relevant to us and teaches us a better way to react to gross injustices.  Does it matter who wounded society? Who is right and who is wrong in terms of ideology? Is it not more important to recognise the needs of those who have been caught up in the wake of those ideologies and are suffering because of them? Rather than be angry and bitter to a person who cannot be changed or reasoned with.  Is it not better instead to devote that energy into something positive to help those who remain? To save by hook or by crook anyone we can?

 

What if all those people who have bought "Ding Dong The Witch is Dead", had instead bought "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" by the Justice Collective? That is a song that praises the kind of selfless Good Samaritan spirit that if we all adopted in the face of oppression, would see us through many a dark hour and more than that, it raises money for a cause that recognises one of the injustices in the Thatcher era.

 

What if rather than celebrating the death of a person or hurling abuse at the mortal remains of an old, dead woman who can no longer bring either pain or joy to anyone - what if people instead decided to channel that energy into something better and brighter. To make that day the start of a knew philanthropic journey... not to moan at the perceived injustices caused by what somebody's ideology stood for... but to actually work contrary to it by being a goodwill ambassador... doing what we can, wherever we can to help others?

 

You have the opportunity here and now to choose, to become something greater and nobler and more difficult than you have been before. The universe does not offer such chances often... don't waste it on spite, use it for good. Walk the path of the Good Samaritan.

If you are short of a few ideas, you can visit this site which provides links to charities that support groups and individuals who suffered in the wake of Thatcherite policies. I don't necessarily endorse all of these charities... but I feel it important to facilitate the free choice of anybody reading who feels motivated to act in this way.

 

Doctor Who: The Rings of Akhaten - What Should Have Been

It's been a while since I've blogged on the topic of Doctor Who, but I felt tonight's episode held some exceptional points that I wanted to reflect on. Now I know some of the physics was a bit dodgy to say the least... and the main antagonist very much reminded me of Wilson the volleyball from Cast Away, but  the acting and philosophy in the episode were great.

 

The essential plot revolved around a group of alien species who inhabit a cluster of asteroids that nestle within the rings that surround a red sun. Every thousand years the species gather to pay emotional tribute to a sleeping "god". The most important person in the ritualistic festivities is the Queen of Years, whose job it is to lead the gathered pilgrims in a song of lullaby that keeps the god asleep... thus allowing life in the Rings of Akhaten to continue. The current Queen of Years is a little girl named Merry, who is afraid of her inadequacy in the role thrust upon her.

 

Her fears appear to be justified when she is pulled into the pyramid on the asteroid where the god is presumed to sleep and confronted by a vampiric alien that is stirring from slumber, hungering for her song - her soul. Burdened with the knowledge that her people may die if the god is not appeased, she is petrified and yet willing to sacrifice herself to the beast. The Doctor recognises the beast for what it is however, a parasite that leeches on emotion and will not allow Merry to throw her precious and unique life away, to merely satiate the creature for a time.  The creature is apparen00tly defeated when it releases a beam of some kind of energy into the sun... and The Doctor, Clara and Merry prepare to make their escape.

 

There is unfortunately a catch.

 

The creature was not the "god". In fact the god is the sun itself, that hungers for the souls and songs of the people... and The Doctor realises the enormity of his error as it begins to become unstable, threatening the life of all who inhabit the rings.

 

 The Doctor tells Clara to get Merry to safety and attempts to face off against the parasite god.  From a distance, Merry decides to do what she can to help and sings melody to try and quell the sun.  The Doctor is invigorated by the voices of Merry in the pilgrims as they sing in the face of doom.  Knowing that the entity feeds on emotion and experience... and that he has over a millennium of such things under his belt, the Doctor gives an impassioned speech - challenging the entity to be satiated with all that he has seen, known and become:

"Can you hear them? All these people who lived in terror of you and your judgement; all these people whose ancestors devoted themselves... sacrificed themselves to you. Can you hear them singing? Oh you like to think you're a god.... but you're not a god, you're just a parasite eating now the jealousy and envy and... longing for the lives of others, you feed on them. On the memory of love and loss and birth and death and joy and sorrow. So... so... come on then.  Take mine. Take my memories. I hope you've got a big appetite because I have lived a long life and I have seen a few things.  I walked away from the last great Time War. I marked the passing of the Time Lords; I saw the birth of the Universe and I watched as time ran out, moment by moment until nothing remained - no time no space... just me. I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a mad man. I have watched universes freeze and creation burn. I have seen things you wouldn't believe. I have lost things you will never understand and I know things... secrets that must never be told and knowledge that must never be spoken... knowledge that will make parasite gods BLAZE! SO COME OOON THEN! TAKE IT! TAKE IT ALL BABY! YOU HAVE IT ALL!"

Yet it is not enough... and as the Doctor slumps, the sun expands once again.

 

Clara has an epiphany and realises that she possesses something even more precious. She holds an autumn leaf whose falling brought her parents together and was regarded by her father as "the most important leaf in human history". She remembers her mother's promise to come whenever she was lost... and how that promise had been snatched away from her when her mother died. Flying back to the pyramid asteroid (I'm assuming the space scooters have some kind of ambient oxygen life support field), she holds out the leaf and points out what it represents - not memories of a life lived, but an eternity of what if's - possibilities that never came to pass because of what happened to her mother - days that should have been and never were. Completely overwhelmed by the influx of experiences and emotions that never were and gorged beyond its ability to satiate itself, the sun collapses in on itself... never to demand sacrifice ever again (major physics goof as the sun's destruction would result in the end of all life in the system).



Clara & The Doctor confront the parasite god at Akhetan

As the Doctor put it: "Infinity is too much... even for your appetite"

 

I know that with its theme of a jealous false god who greedily consumes the sacrifices and faithfulness of his followers, many saw the episode as a vitriolic attack on religion - particularly as The Doctor gives gentle digs at the people's belief that Akhetan is where the universe began... citing it as a "nice story" and reiterating the scientific explanation for the birth of the universe (something that I as a Christian have no problem with). However I found myself quite spiritually inspired by this story.

 

Just a week after commemorating the events of Holy Week, I saw parallels with the story of salvation that I felt compelled to share. We are like the people of Akhetan. We live our lives under the gaze of an entity that longs to consume us... that feeds off our pain and sorrow and unfairly revels in our eventual perishing... but that entity is not God. That entity is our broken human nature that we helplessly orbit, unable to escape. It doesn't matter how good we are... how wondrous our achievements, how noble our beliefs and intentions. Nothing within us is capable of satiating the hunger of the sinful nature. Just as the Doctor's vast storehouse of experience was incapable of staving off the hunger pangs of Akhetan... even the most reverent and devout of humans falls prey to the universal phenotype of our condition. We are all sinners, we all make mistakes.... it is an inherited condition:

Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.

Romans 5:12-14

Into this hopeless fray stepped hope itself.

Jesus is a human - He shared in our sorrows and our sufferings and yet being in very nature God, He was not automatically subject to our brokenness. Jesus Christ represents everything we should have been, everything we could have been if we had not followed the pattern of the World. Jesus represents the obedience of all humanity... that never was.

 

In Jesus there's quite a difference isn't there? There's an awful lot of sin but there's an infinity of righteousness on offer. Infinity is too much, even for death's appetite.

 

The unjustness of the Righteous One giving his life - an eternal abundance of obedience and goodness, for us in our corruption... completely satisfied the previously unending hunger of sin:

 

"Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous."

Romans 5:18-19

Not for nothing did Jesus use the Greek word "Tetelestai" (which the English usually translates to "It is finished"), as he died on the cross. It is a word that means debt is paid in full.

 

That's our debt... we can have it paid. All we need to do is put our trust in the risen Jesus and accept what he did for us.

 

Jesus is too much... even for sin and death's appetite.

 

Everything Changes?

Happy Easter everybody - He is risen!

 

I have a confession to make...

From a personal perspective, I'm a little disappointed in the Church of England's choice of hashtag to promote its Easter tweets - #everythingchanges.

Now let me make it clear, I'm not going to be aggressively snarky about it, I'm absolutely grateful that the C of E bothers to engage on Twitter and has actually put some thought into a campaign at all. I also completely theologically agree with what I perceive to be at the heart of that statement. Easter is a game changer; as the sun dawned on that fateful first century Sunday morning, humankind went from being outcast... to family member, darkness... to light, death... to life. The hashtag absolutely reflects themes that prevail throughout Easter.

So what exactly bugs me about it?

Well for me, it is primarily an aesthetic thing. I don't like to think of myself as fundamentalist and in fact if anything, in a broad church I've turned running with the foxes and hunting with the hounds into something of art form. However #everythingchanges aside from being culturally reminiscent of a cheesy Take That song, feels a little vague and understated to me. Without something tying it into the events of Easter Sunday, it's easy for people who are not tweeting on topic to come in and subvert it (either accidentally or purposefully). This aside, we live in a world of constant flux... everything changes all the time; you might not think it if you look out of the window and still see snow and frost, but everything - the weather, our position in time and space and the fundamental elements that drive our universe - matter and energy are in a constant state of change.

When Jesus happened (I'm not sure I even wish to describe it as "what happened to Jesus" because He was the catalyst), it was an event like nothing ever seen before. People had been raised from the dead before (3 by prophets in the Old Testament and 2 by Jesus himself), but in those cases it was merely a case of the odometer being set back a few notches. Those people lived out the lives that had been given back to them... but in time, death would return to claim them.

 

Christ's resurrection was very different:

The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my Father.”

John 10:17-18

 

Jesus was resurrected by his own authority he didn't just temporarily survive death... he went beyond it, travelling through it and coming out on the other side:

 

"Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.  For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him.  The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God."

Romans 6:8-10

 

Death no longer has mastery over him.... and the amazing thing is that Romans tells us  in that same excerpt that His death covers the cost of the wrongs we have committed... and that we have the unconditional offer to live his risen life. 1 Corinthians tells us that death has lost its sting... yes it still claims us from this life, but its effects are only temporal and not eternal.

 

So yes the rules, the game, the very nature of humankind's destiny have changed. Yet the changes are so much immeasurably higher, wider, deeper and truer than anything our humanity could conjure, ask or imagine... that to just say everything changes feels somewhat like living in a world where Apollo 11 is blasting off for the moon in the days of the cavemen... who as they celebrate the invention of their stone tools and wheels and fire, categorise the wonder they have just witnessed piercing the clouds in the same bracket.

 

So yes I'm sure that #everythingchanges will be a numeric success and I pray for it and wish it well in terms of outreach.

 

But let's remember that the resurrection of Christ is a concept so mind blowingly wonderful, with such a powerful message... that we need to make every effort to convey it in terms that do justice to its concept.

Cheesus.... or Jesus? A Response to Giles Fraser.

I entered pretty late into the furore surrounding Giles Fraser's latest article for The Guardian, only picking up on various exchanges about it on Twitter, yesterday evening. Nevertheless, having now read the article I decided to make a couple of observations.

 

First off, let me point out that I have no axe to grind... I respected the moral principle behind his resignation from St. Paul's Cathedral and I'm sure we have our differences on the theological spectrum... but in a broad church you take those things on a case by case basis... or at least,  I believe spiritual maturity requires us to do so.

 

I believe Fraser was attacking the superficial spirituality and language of cliché that sometimes plagues the Church. Quite why he singled out the evangelical wing of the church on this issue is beyond me... perhaps *he* had an axe to grind, perhaps not. Nevertheless I think his article comes across as portraying a syllogistically flawed argument, something like this:

Some Christians are evangelical

Some Christians are clichéd and superficial

Therefore all evangelicals are clichéd and superficial.

 

As a teenager, the youth group I was a member of had a pretty evangelical outlook. As we grew in faith and maturity... we recognised that some of the terminology was clichéd and a little alien to the outsider: Terms like "saved", "washed in the blood of the lamb", "slain in the Spirit", were among these. Whenever a brainstorming chart was being used in a seminar/preaching session, you could bet your bottom dollar that among the first responses would be "Jesus", "the Bible" or "peer pressure".

 

Never once would I have said that all my contemporaries were superficial Christians. It is just that sometimes, just sometimes if you hang around the same people often enough you pick up the trappings of a language. This is true in all walks of life.  It doesn't invalidate the principles behind the terminology, it just means that sometimes the terminology is unhelpful.

 

Fraser takes issue with the term "personal relationship". I get where he's coming from on this... the term is used so very often that it has become a bit of a cliché. However it is not like the word "Inconceivable" in The Princess Bride. In most cases people who invoke the term know *exactly* what it means and how important it is.  What is important though, is that the principles behind what a personal relationship with God means, and why it is so vital in Christian development are equally covered.

 

I dare say I have an evangelical outlook, I try not to use the terminology when I preach or talk... but I hope to God I get the principles across.

 

I don't like the idea that Fraser implies that I see Jesus as "buddy Christ". Yes I, do see him as the closest companion in my life journey... but if that truly means anything it has to have an effect on us and not just be a term. It leads to some pretty strange emotional places. For the apostle Paul it meant contemplating the desire to lose his own salvation if it  meant that others would gain it (he obviously knew that was not a place he would or even could go to, but it was a feeling he was expressing). For a friend of mine (and indeed myself), it sometimes means getting worked up when seeing a representation of The Passion - yes, theologically you know the crucifixion is the absolutely essential and inescapable destiny of Jesus... and you know that your own salvation (and that of others), depends on it happening... but as a developed Christian one who truly has a "personal relationship" with Christ... you kind of get pretty upset when you see someone representing him suffering.

 

This week, on Maundy Thursday... I'll be making my annual midnight pilgrimage up a local hill. I go there every year because I remember that on the night he was betrayed, Jesus's friends fell asleep and left him to suffer in anguish on his own... as he awaited the inevitable fate that awaited him. 2,000 years after the event, this does not sit well with me. There's precious little I can do but that which I can... I do. So just for an hour I try and get myself as close to the events as I can. I head out onto a remote hill overlooking town - in the cold... alone and vulnerable, and I read through the gospel accounts and I pray for Jesus.

 

As I said... "personal relationship" when genuine can lead you to strange places.

 

And as a Christian I have to say, I know how shockingly poor and bankrupt a Christian I can be sometimes... I know how dependent on God's grace I truly am. I have no place or time to patronise people because I know only too well how pitiful I am. I'm just as broken and in need of God's compassion as everybody else on this God favoured planet.

 

But this was not all Giles Fraser said and its not the part that upset most people I conversed online with.

 

He went on to suggest that the evangelistic position is one that somehow hardens a person against empathy towards the suffering of others.... but this is utterly wrong. I'm not saying this is not a possibility... but I will say that in my experience most evangelicals I know are most passionate about the concept of personal relationship because of tragic cost - always the tragic price that Christ paid and often the tragic cost of personal circumstances that the nearness of Christ's presence helped them through in a very real way.

 

Fraser suggests that the newly enthroned Archbishop of Canterbury - Justin Welby may be "inoculated" against evangelical cheesiness because he has suffered the bitter blows of personal tragedy, yet in the same paragraph expresses the fear that this merely masks a latent evangelism picked up from Welby's theological heritage.

 

I am greatly encouraged by Justin Welby (not least after meeting him last week). Aside from Fraser's comments, he's not without his critics in the evangelical wing either and personally I see this as a good thing. He strikes me as a man willing to listen and share the concerns of all those he is pastorally responsible for, not least those he theologically disagrees with. He seems assertive about his own beliefs and doesn't fall into the pitfalls of aggression or passiveness. This is what the church needs - to openly talk about its disagreements in a frank uncondemnatory way... and I suspect Welby may have a gift for this.

 

I'm reminded of the parable Jesus told a Pharisee named Simon, after receiving his criticism for being anointed by a "sinful" woman. The point that Jesus drove home was that the amount of affection we display is a response to the amount we realise we have been forgiven. This isn't just about sin though, is it? Jesus does not merely promise forgiveness... but life in abundance. When we are in the midst of the fiercest storm and the deepest spiritual need... He is there. When we have known times in our lives where clinging to that promise has meant absolutely everything to us... it fundamentally changes us and makes us more loving to those on the outside.

 

I know that thus far, I have by God's grace avoided the most tragic of personal circumstances... but I also know that there was a very long, dark time in my life when I felt trapped in a situation and had nobody I could talk to about it. In those times I know God did not give up on me and I know in the fullness of time it was He who directly delivered me out of that place. That experience and the knowledge of the patience and love of God for me during all that time changed everything for me... and having been faced with the insufficiency of my own ways, I know that my debt to Christ is immeasurably supermassive and that tempers any illusions I might ever had of being somehow superior.

 

In conclusion, it is not our various theological positions that define the depth of our relationship with God and our compassion towards others... it is our understanding of how dependent we are upon the vast storehouses of all that God provides in the harshest and fairest of seasons alike.

 

One more thing. Giles Fraser expressed fears for Justin Welby on the basis of his spiritual history with Holy Trinity Brompton. Let me redress the balance by reminding you of another part of his history.  For many years, Welby was on the frontline of the Ministry of Reconciliation at Coventry Cathedral. Perhaps then, it is fitting that following the fallout this article has caused... whatever our views, we contemplate together the litany of reconciliation... and remember that when we judge one another we mar God's image within us and need to be reconciled to one another... and to Him:

 

All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God...

The hatred which divides nation from nation, race from race, class from class,

Father Forgive.

 

The covetous desires of people and nations to possess what is not their own,


Father Forgive.

 

The greed which exploits the work of human hands and lays waste the earth,

Father Forgive.

 

Our envy of the welfare and happiness of others,


Father Forgive.

 

Our indifference to the plight of the imprisoned, the homeless, the refugee,


Father Forgive.

 

The lust which dishonours the bodies of men, women and children,


Father Forgive.

 

The pride which leads us to trust in ourselves and not in God,

Father Forgive.

 

Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.





If you wish to read more of what others have contributed, I am adding links below that I have discovered on the topic that provide additional commentaries:

God and Politics UK
Peter Ould
Hannah Mudge
alwaysperhaps
 

The Cathedral & The Crucible

Due to my inability to book holiday without procrastination I've been able to benefit from a fair bit of time off in recent days and as luck would have it, it transpired that events had unfolded to provide me with a unique opportunity.

 

Justin Welby - The new Archbishop of Canterbury, has been progressing through the country on a prayer pilgrimage ahead of his enthronement on the 21st March 2013. The second sojourn of his journey led him back to Coventry - the diocese where he had spent roughly 15 years of ministry, culminating in his tenure as Sub Dean and Canon for Reconciliation Ministry.

 

Having the day off on Friday, I decided to take part in the event - both the church I worship at and the church I grew up in  are part of the Diocese of Coventry and its cathedral is therefore in "old money" terms, my mother church. I decided that I was going to make as much of a day of it as I could and found myself strolling into Broadgate at the early hour of 8:30am. As I was early I wandered back and forth, to and fro as the market was being set up and the PA system was being rigged for the welcome address. I approached some local dignitaries... who promptly backed off, apparently intimidated- maybe it was a bad idea for a 6'4" leviathan to wear a hoodie, or maybe they were just picking up on some kind of Alcestrian aura emanating from me.

 

Drummers Leading Archbishop Justin to the Cathedral.

Eventually the Archbishop arrived and after a meet and greet with the local media followed by a welcome by Coventry's mayor and a brief prayer of blessing, those of us who had gathered made our way to the ruins of the old cathedral... led by some drummers. As we arrived, it became apparent that larger throng had gathered outside the cathedral and together we prayed through the Litany of Reconciliation.  Following this we all made our way into the cathedral, which had been divided up into a series of 9 prayer areas with different formats for different people to use.

 

I love Coventry Cathedral; for those of you who don't know, it is a relatively new building that is nestled among the ruins of its predecessor... which was devastated during the destruction of Coventry by the Luftwaffe. I like the distribution of stained glass windows... on the inside it looks very much like something that you might expect to find on the Minbari homeworld in Babylon 5.  I'm also extremely fond of the star and circular shaped chapels at each end. When you look back from the nave, the entrance window is filled with frosted figures of angels and saints that seem to hover above the ruins... keeping watch over the cathedral and the city.

 

Praying Amidst the Ruins of the Old Cathedral

As previously mentioned, I was there for the whole event and decided to work my way around the various stations as best I could... and aside from praying for the Archbishop made the day something of a prayer retreat... something I haven't done for a good while. Being fond of Celtic expressions of prayer, I made my way to the round Chapel of Christ the Servant. and sat there working through a few prayers.  I must have looked a little odd because I'd taken my shoes off... it's a biblical practice that I've adopted when seeking a deeper focus in prayer... and I guess I've picked it up off my old vicar, Steve Burch. Straight away I felt my thoughts being tugged towards issues that periodically cycle from latency to active burden in my heart. I felt very much hemmed in and awestruck.

 

Following this period, I made my way to a Powerpoint station which split the Lord's Prayer up in segments with a particular focus for each line... designed to take 15 minutes to work through. I then made my way down the nave and bumped into some folk from my hometown. I chatted with them briefly and tried not to draw too much attention to my shoeless condition (no luck there), I then made my way to a Labyrinth that had been laid out in the centre of the nave. Funnily enough, this actually required me to be shoeless and having read through the gist of the prayer format, I started out. It was not to be however, as I was yanked out by one of the people from Alcester because the hourly prayer led by Archbishop Justin was starting. I know he thought he was doing the right thing... but I was seriously getting in the zone and it disrupted me - he should have left me to it really... but never mind. A bit like not being able to get back to sleep having been woken by something, I joined the other people in the nave and prayed the hourly prayer.

 

Once this was finished, I made my way back to the Labyrinth... and what followed was by far and away the most profound experience in my day. The idea is that you make your way along a winding path towards the centre and eventually out along another path. There are stations along the route and there are no dead ends. After a period of focused reflection I made my way inward - the first part of which invited me to invoke God's mercy. Gradually I made my way along until I came to the Ignatian Examen... which had some techniques based on a paraphrase of Isaiah 48:

 

Come near and listen to this:
from the beginning I have never spoken to you obscurely,
and all the time these things have been happening, I have been present
Thus says Yahweh, your redeemer, the Holy One:
I, your God, teach you what is good for you,
I lead you in the way that you must go.
If only you had been alert...

 

The meditation required me to examine which part of the text jumped out most vividly to me (I've highlighted what I experienced for you). I felt extremely challenged by this... I'm very guilty of being the kind of Christian who looks for signs and desires wisdom before committing to a path... and I felt that I was being advised that I already know what I need to know... the silence that I have assumed to be in place... has not been real at all.  When you reach the centre of the Labyrinth, you are supposed to just get comfortable and allow God to have you... and not do it at "drive-through" pace... but to be still and wait for God.

 

The final station I came to as I was working my way out, was a biblical meditative vision quest; I'm very fond of these... and I think people should be aware they exist, because they are a powerful area of spirituality that largely remain untapped in the Western church while people flock to similar such things that are available from the more questionable sources in Eastern mysticism.

 

The passage used was the account of Jesus appearing to disciples on the Road to Emmaus. It invited me to breathe the air, to hear the dusty road beneath my feet, to see the hooded stranger and to communicate with him and talk about the kind of feelings that were associated with the people in the passage. I remember very strongly at the end of this meditation seeing Jesus give a wry smile and a wink before vanishing. I felt his reassurance and that he was filling me with hope for the road ahead.

 

As I drew to the end of the Labyrinth, a period of contemplative worship was being performed by a man called Jimmy Lawrence. I felt deeply moved and sang along solemnly. This drew  the next hour to a close and we prayed again with Archbishop Justin.

 

For the next hour I kept drifting towards the accompanied prayer area... but there never seemed to be anyone to pray with. I felt like I could have done with that at that time.  so for the next hour I sat and gazed at the baptistery window in silent contemplation.

 

Eventually hunger got the better of me and I made my way down to the refectory to grab some sustenance. As there were no empty tables, I found myself talking to one of the cathedral chaplains and a visiting couple. Halfway into our chat, the old lady asked me if I was a vicar. I said that no, I wasn't... and I had a familiar strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 

Just before 2.00pm I returned for the final hour of prayer and after Archbishop Justin had prayed with us... I decided with a small group of others to go forward and meet him.  Upon greeting him, I took the opportunity to pray over him for his ministry and he in turn prayed for me.  Following this I tied a prayer to the prayer tree and submitted some prayers to the prayer text service that was scrolling on a screen on the right of the cathedral.

 

It was an amazing experience. I truly feel God took a cacophony of emotions and experiences and forged them into something immensely powerful and awe inspiring.

 

I also think I know what that feeling I get when people ask me *that* question, is about.

 

It's embarrassment. I feel it may be akin to the feelings that Peter must have felt when people asked him if he was one of Christ's disciples in the early hours of Good Friday.

 

I think that gives me something really challenging to look at.... and requires me to act perhaps more swiftly than I might appreciate.

 

All in all, my time at the cathedral felt very much akin to being in a crucible.