30 April 2021

Not what you think – 30 April 2021

 

Fr Laurence Freeman tells how, when he was a speaker somewhere, someone in the front row was wearing a T-shirt with the words, “Meditation is not what you think”.  Just about everything is right with that statement.  Christian Meditation is not what most people assume “meditation” to be… neither is Christian Meditation a process of thinking, anyway… the slight humour, moreover, or gentle paradox, is often a good way of seeing something true…  But what appeals to me is how contemplatives often grasp something better by saying what it is not.  Meditation is not what you think.

So this session is a reminder.  It’s too easy to replace the work of silence and stillness with thoughts we are having about meditation, what we last read, what someone said they do, what the speaker just talked about… or worst of all, what we think we should be doing, feeling, or what we should be like.[1]  We sit there thinking about ourselves meditating, comparing with our last performance – all of which is simply the ego, predictably, elbowing back into the front seat.  We are not trying to be good meditators – we are simply being present, at this time and place, fully present and still, warts and all, for once.  The mantra, whatever mantra we use, exists as something to return to.  It is a choice we make over and over again, to turn away from the thoughts, the distractions, the various emotions, and return to the simplicity – what some teachers call the poverty – of the mantra.  I can’t really put it better than this passage from Fr Laurence in his talk at a retreat:

If meditation changes our life it is because it helps us to see the true value of living faithfully.  It shows what being faithful in small things means, not just believing in big abstractions, or holding tenaciously to the comfort zone of certain ideas because we have always done so or because they shape an identity for us.  Meditation develops the muscle of faith, integrity begins to matter more, not as a prescribed moral code but as a sense of what wholeness means…  Being a faithful human being, keeping our word, acting truly in all our relationships intimate and professional, trying to tell the truth as it is, being just and compassionate in small daily matters becomes increasingly linked to our sense of meaning.  Faithful to what, we might ask?  Just faithful, faithful in all we do—faithful in the way we love, faithful in the way we work, but faithful also in the way we walk and talk and walk the talk, faithful in the way we sit still in meditation, faithful in the way we accept the gift of life by using our time mindfully and treating our own body and others and our world with respect. 

So Christian Meditation is a process of returning, turning away from self, but always gently and without recrimination… and with respect for what we are turning away from.  “Returning” is such a good biblical word.  In returning and rest you will be saved, says the Hebrew prophet, in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.  The Prodigal Son, in Jesus’s parable, returns home to his father’s house[2].  Returning is what the scriptures mean by repentance[3] – feeling sorry, however sorry we may be feeling, is not the issue… turning around is very much the issue.  In returning and rest you will be saved, in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.sz



[1] I am on a personal crusade to expunge the modal verb should, and its accompanying guilt, from life… but most certainly from spiritual practice. 

[2] Isaiah 30:15; Luke 15:3-32

[3] The Hebrew shuv , usually translated “repent”, basically means “return”.  The Greek metanoia (μετάνοια), “repent” means literally a change of mind.

23 April 2021

Barefaced – 23 April 2021

 

Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, former Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge, theologian, linguist, poet, Welsh Druid, Baron Williams of Oystermouth, attended St Clement’s, one of the smaller parish churches of Cambridge -- a rather useful parishioner, one might think.  When the long Covid lockdown came, Dr Williams started to write regular brief items for the St Clement’s newsletter.  Some of these have been published[1]

…and in one he writes about “face”, the face we present to the world.  When you think about it… we do talk about losing face, saving face, putting a brave face on things, facing up – as though face is something we work on and polish until it shows what we want it to show.  Face is there, we think, in case we need to conceal the reality. Some people will not go out the door until they have put on their face, what they wish the world to see.  The trouble is that, if we take notice of the Bible, God is seriously unimpressed by Max Factor or mascara, Botox or braids, or silly baseball caps on back to front.  The self that we put on display is at least in part a construct, a demonstration model… reaching its nadir, one might think, in the posturing on the red carpet of the Oscar awards and the like.  One of the cruellest items I have seen in the media was a comment on a woman who had spent eye-watering sums on her gown and shoes, her jewellery, her makeup and her coiffure… and the writer said it was a triumph of the embalmer’s art.  But appearance is paramount for many.  It can also be arranged to have negative impact, to shock us, to be aggressive… with bodily mutilation, or resident dirt, or T-shirts with offensive slogans… 

All of this is wasted on God, according to the Hebrew scriptures.  God tells Samuel to choose one of the sons of Jesse to be king; he was about to choose the most presentable one, and we read: But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or the height of his stature… for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart”.[2]  Jesus informs us that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as well as a single lily.[3]  For Paul it is a matter of, eventually, being transformed until with unveiled face – he means, as we really are without masks or adornment – we become the true self God always intended.[4]

“Transformed” in the Greek is a passive verb formed from the word metamorphosis… it is a process.  It is easy for us to stall or inhibit this process, over the years, or even to make change itself the enemy.  But in the disciplines of silence and stillness we are opening the door to this metamorphosis, and the masks, the persona, begin to attenuate.  We regard their vestiges with amusement – they may even disappear.   



[1] Rowan Williams: Candles in the Dark – Faith, Hope and Love in a Time of Pandemic (SPCK 2020)

[2] I Samuel 16:7

[3] Matthew 6:29

[4] II Corinthians 3:18. The Greek “transformed” is metamorphosis (μεταμορφόομαι).

16 April 2021

Witnesses of these things – 16 April 2021

 

You are witnesses of these things (Luke 24:48).

There are devout Christians who actually find Easter quite difficult.  Christians all around them are joining in joyous affirmations – but like Thomas Hardy, these others find it more a matter of hoping it might be so.[1]  They suspect that underlying these strange resurrection stories and the big credal statements there is indeed something vital about God, about creation and life, about suffering, death and evil, something about the meaning of Jesus… if we could pin it down.  But we can’t – and we hang in there, somehow sustained by it. 

Let’s look at the narrative in Luke’s Gospel.  The disciples are huddled together, Jesus, who had been killed, appears in their midst, shows them his wounds, eats some fish, teaches them from the Jewish scriptures… and then tells them, You are witnesses of all these things.[2]

But what am I witnessing to?  Being a witness is a weighty thing.  Jews in Auschwitz and many other such places, who knew they would not survive, solemnly charged those who could:  Your task is to survive! Bear witness! Tell what happened.  You are witnesses, says Jesus.  But of what?  To some people the answer is as plain as day.  We witness to the resurrection – God raised his Son from the dead, is the classic statement.  On Easter morning the church proclaims: The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!  To Paul it is clear – but now is Christ risen![3] The old has passed away, all has become new.[4] 

We are in a powerful line of witness down the centuries, of something which cannot be proved… or disproved.  It is always a statement of faith.  It is a witness borne by Helmut Rex, a young German pastor, imprisoned by the Nazis – and he later told us, his students, how Resurrection filled and sustained him during that time.  Creation, love and meaning are not wiped out by tyranny, mindless relentless evil, or death.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, also thrown in prison, was steadied and sustained, he knew, by the Risen Lord.  We witness to life – L’Chaim, in Hebrew[5] -- the conviction that God’s overarching Creative Word, God’s Logos, is Life… life restored, life renewed, life whose pathway is lit by love.  I think of Moses, as portrayed in the Book of Deuteronomy, giving his final charge to the people of Israel: I call heaven and earth to witness… today, that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.  Choose life… that you may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, holding fast to him, for that means life to you… that you may live in the land…[6]  It is a choice, and it is a choice of faith.  And then, somehow, for us – I can’t explain it – there is a light on the path, the light of Hope, the abiding, sustaining Spirit of the Risen Lord.  We are witnesses of these things.


[1] Thomas Hardy poem, The Oxen.

[2] in Greek the word martus (μάρτυς) – witness -- means also a martyr.

[3] I Corinthians 15:20, etc…

[4] II Corinthians 5:17

[5] לחיים

[6] Deuteronomy 30:19-20

09 April 2021

One heart and soul – 9 April 2021

 

In one of the readings next Sunday, in the Book of Acts, Luke gives us a glimpse of life in the neo-natal resurrection church in Jerusalem:  Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.  (Acts 4:32-35)

Well, this is not quite what you might read at the annual church parade of the Real Estate Institute, or Stockbrokers for Jesus.  Professor E M Blaiklock, my teacher of Greek long ago, was of the view that this selling and sharing of property was the church’s first big mistake, and that is why Paul later had to run around Macedonia collecting relief funds for the impoverished church in Jerusalem.[1]  The lectionary moreover coyly leaves out what follows, the dreadful story of Ananias and Sapphira – they tried to hide part of their property, but Peter exposed their deceit, and each of them fell dead.  Satan filled your heart, said Peter.  This is not one of the church’s finest moments. 

However, there are a couple of things to learn from Luke’s snapshot of the very early church.  The first is… just that: property, possessions and ownership.  Mature faith does reset our relationship to possession.  We are not defined now by what we own, or how we appear, lifestyle or reputation.  St Paul later says, I may give away all I possess, or even give my body to be burned, but without love it profits me nothing.[2]  

The other is the comment that they were all of one heart and soul – and they made sure that no one was in need.  They were soon however to discover what we know very well, that the company of Jesus is rarely if ever of one heart and soul… the church defaults with terrible ease to fallible, sinful, divided and wounded – even if we can still stand up and sing with a straight face: We are not divided / All one body we / One in hope and doctrine, / One in charity.  The resurrection miracle is not that we are perfect in grace and unity, one big happy family, but that God chooses, inspires and uses such frail and erratic material.

Jesus’s resurrection, whatever we understand by that, is the sign and the empowerment of our resurrection, daily, willingly, into Christ (as Paul puts it) – into the way Jesus teaches and forms in us.  Born anew, writes Peter, into a living hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.[3]  Benedictines describe this as conversatio – conversion, anew, each day, fuelled and inspired in silence and stillness and in our heartfelt consent to God, amid all the mystery of it… a living hope.



[1] See I Corinthians 16:1-2;  II Corinthians chapters 8 & 9

[2] I Corinthians 13:3

[3] I Peter 1:3