Tag Archives: David Herbert

YOU MAY NOT HARM

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I'VE WALKED A LEARNING CURVE again this summer. Unexpected illness and ensuing weakness begets a strength all of its own. Weakness is a gift. An education. And I've been blessed by both weakness and the strength that flows into and out of it.

I'm an optimist. I believe in God and I believe in people so I generally default to “the upbeat” rather than “the downside”. But eternal optimism can be exhausting in the face of all-too-human earthy reality. Christians and many other women and men of goodwill can be tackled to the ground by the very Church or institution they seek to love and serve.

The Church is not exempt from the selfish gene, or the self-satisfied one either. Indeed there are certain religious “types” that at times appear more selfish and self-important than most; certain religious types who seem to have forgotten the Divine call and imperative to compassion and all encompassing embrace, much more concerned with personal tastes and pick 'n' mix preferences (the ones they call “biblical” usually being the most distasteful) than with the challenge to a different kind of “choice” flagged up, even unto death, by the hunted and haunted Jesus. Some of the inconsequential tripe that people argue about in and around my parish beggars belief – whilst issues of real consequence like war, greed, racism, selfishness and vanity appear almost entirely to escape their attention.

I remember a similar “churchy” conversation-going-nowhere the night before 9/11.

So I have a huge appetite for the loving offerings of any and all who, recognising the desperate need for a deeper compassion in the heart of humanity – in Syria, for example, or in the suffering and despair of an impossibly huge raft of outcasts and the shunned – call humankind to pay attention to its actions and allegiances, offering the loving hand of companionship and goodwill for the journey.

And tonight I want to name three wonderful people (amongst the very many others that all of us, if we put our minds to it, could name) who have a gift for affirmation and embrace, and for pointing us to the gifts in others. Not all of them would think of themselves as acting in the name of “Gospel” in any religious sense, but each is an agent of “Good News” – which is what “Gospel” is supposed to be all about. I'm heartened and encouraged by these recent offerings:

Richard Rohr who offers Daily Meditations here

It seems to me that it is a minority that ever gets the true and full Gospel. We just keep worshiping Jesus and arguing over the exact right way to do it. The amazing thing is that Jesus never once says, “worship me!”, but he often says, “follow me” (e.g., Matthew 4:19).

Christianity is a lifestyle—a way of being in the world that is simple, non-violent, shared, inclusive, and loving. We made it, however, into a formal established religion, in order to avoid the demanding lifestyle itself. One could then be warlike, greedy, racist, selfish, and vain at the highest levels of the church, and still easily believe that Jesus is “my personal Lord and Savior.” The world has no time for such silliness anymore. The suffering on Earth is too great.

Compassionate Action Fr Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation, 8 September 2012

David Herbert who blogs at The Jog here

Richard Beck posts a quote from a recent interview given by Sr Joan Chittister for the Jackson Free Press. The question was:

“So, as a woman of faith, as a monastic, how do you see your role and the role of other people of faith in the world?”

Sister Joan's reply:

It's a simple one: To see injustice and say so, to find the truth and proclaim it, to allow no stone to be unturned when it is a stone that will be cast at anyone else. It's just that simple. There is nothing institutional, organizational, political about it. It says: “Where I am, you may not harm these people. You may not deride them; you may not reject them; you may not sneer at them, and you certainly cannot blame them for their own existence.” 10 September 2012

Mimi at Waiting for the Karma Truck here (who today offered me this encouragement)

I delight in this young woman’s talents, but honestly find cause for celebration in seeing your post and feeling your strength returning. Can that be celebrated next Sunday?

Affirm God in one another. That's the call of Jesus of Nazareth. You may not harm these people. Being warlike, greedy, racist, selfish, and vain at the highest levels of the church, [whilst still easily believing] that Jesus is “my personal Lord and Savior.” – The world has no time for such silliness anymore. The suffering on Earth is too great.

Heaven on Earth is delivered by the hands and hearts of those who minister affirmation, compassion, grace and hope to others – whatsoever the human detail of their religious faith (or lack of it) and wheresoever they may be. “You may not harm”. I thank God for any and all who, hearing that yearning call, seek instead to upbuild and to affirm. That's the brightest and best “religion”, the brightest and best kind of “drawing, or binding together, and making whole”. Wholeness and holiness amount to the same thing.

 

THE WORLD NEEDS CRAZY!

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DAVID HERBERT has done a favour for more than just those who are to be ordained in Chester Cathedral on Saturday (though it will be a most particular joy for me to take part in the laying-on-of-hands at the moment of Patches’ ordination as a priest) …

For those being ordained

I wanted to write a post for those who are being ordained at Chester Cathedral on Saturday. They are Avril Ravenscroft, Collette Jones, Grant Cohen, Heather Buckley, Heather Pang, Lorraine Reed, Nikki Eastwood, Patches Chabala, Paul Cumming, Rob Wardle, Sandra Langerhuizen, Stephen Callis, Steven Hildreth, Tim Watson and Trevor Legge. They will be preparing for this great event in God’s mission over the next few days. My own priesting was in Sheffield 38 years ago. I have to say that I am as enthralled today as I was then …

… God’s call and his gifts are all God’s ministry to the world and his way of serving the needs of his creation. They are also God’s ministry to us personally. Ordination focuses on God’s ministry in and to his church, and on his ministry to and through us. The joy in this realisation is, for me, personified in the great laughter of Desmond Tutu.

… done a favour by posting this glorious little video interview with Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

Archbishop Tutu presents the meaning of paradox to us in his very person; he shows us a way to stand both short and tall in a world comprised of marvellous and extraordinary diversity, love, service and wonders – “Rainbow People” amongst these – and shocking and dreadful atrocities and evil.

In Tutu there’s a deep chuckling, giggling, irrepressible confidence in the truth that sets humankind free. There’s a deep and heartfelt yearning for Truth and Reconciliation. There’s a warm, tangible, touching, hand-holding intimacy in the Archbishop’s invitation to radical hospitality and inclusion. And the giggling and the invitation bring tears to people’s eyes, and wide, wide delighted smiles of welcome and applause – by reason of delighted joy on the one hand and deep recognition of human agony on the other. Some of our young people will be blessed by the privilege of encounter with the (similarly chuckling) Dalai Lama on Saturday. I can’t wait to hear what they report of that encounter afterwards.

Look at the little (huge) guy! Listen to him. Where does Tutu get that giggling from? It seems as though it’s coming from his feet sometimes, and at other times through the pores of his skin. Oh, David, if we, and all who are to be ordained in the future, could learn a few lessons from Dr Tutu we’d see a great deal more of the reign of God. God bless this year’s ordinands, and God make all of us as generous and compassionate as the joy-filled former Archbishop of Capetown.

ART & FAITH NETWORK

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Would-be sculptor | photo/lucybroadbent

BREATHING SPACE – an event to launch the new Chester Diocesan Art & Faith Network, at the home and studios of sculptor Stephen Broadbent and his wife and family, has been an absolute joy.

Some photos are here (with the kind permission of Stephen Broadbent)

My most sincere thanks to those who kindly invited me to participate: to Stephen and Lorraine, for fabulous hospitality and for the sculptures created by Stephen’s hand; to the living sculptures; and to Lucy Broadbent for kindly turning my camera upon me!

Art & Faith …

What I would see
Mid all the stress and tension of these days
What I would see beyond my pain and, seeing, praise
Is how life works its way upon
Our thick, opaque obduracy
Presses down and pulls us out
To tissue-thin transparency:
Yes, praise.

extract from Parker J Palmer, What I would see and praise

See also: Sarah Anderson at  The Art of Moodling (how can you resist? …)
& David Herbert’s Surplus of Meaning

VULNERABILITY

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(thanks to Graham Turner who drew my attention to this presentation)

JESUS WEPT. Three people, each of whom had lost a precious relative in the past week, homed in on those two words in today’s Gospel account of the raising of Lazarus: Jesus wept. One lady said: “It’s like God knows exactly where I’m at this morning”.

And isn’t that exactly what’s so deeply healing about our deepest and most truthful encounters with God? Isn’t that just exactly what Jesus personifies for us? Isn’t that just exactly what Jesus appears most to love in those around him? A ready and willing vulnerability – to life in general – with all its attendant joys and risks – and to those who live that life, those joys and those risks, alongside and with us. Like God knows exactly where we’re at?

And isn’t that exactly what’s so deeply healing about our deepest and most truthful encounters with one another? Isn’t that just exactly the gift we can personify for others? Isn’t that just exactly what we most love in those around us? A ready and willing vulnerability – to life in general – with all its attendant joys and risks - and to others who live that life, those joys and those risks, alongside and with us. Like we know exactly where God’s at?

Life and love are indeed about risking openness, in God’s case to us, in our case to God – to Life itself – and to one another. Joy and pain, and losing and finding, are all to be found in both kinds of encounter.

Sometimes too quick to grasp at joy, and sometimes too quick to run from pain, it seems that we human persons must learn how to hold the two in proper tension – drawing always and deeply upon Love’s “wells of salvation” that it may, some day be said of us: “she/he is forgiven much because she/he has loved much”. Or, yet more gloriously, “she/he is Risen!”

COME FORTH!

(and thanks to David Herbert for drawing my attention to this “Lazarus Blessing“)

9 ENG LIT 9.45 MATHS 11 HAPPINESS

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DR ANTHONY SELDON, Master of Wellington College gave Church Times its Back Page interview this week.

… We started the “happiness classes” at Wellington in 2006, grounding them on the Positive Psychology of Professor Martin Seligman. He tried to move people from a sort of minus five state of fear and loneliness and unhappiness to a sort of OK state, and then to a plus-five kind of flourishing state. We try to build up children’s resilience, because you can’t stop bad things happening to them.

We try to change their mindset to one of being grateful — which involves things like thinking of three things to be grateful for before going to sleep. We encourage them to pay serious attention to their physical body because with a healthy body it’s easier to have a healthy mind. And we encourage young people to give to others, because the core of our model is looking after others …

Truly, there are some marvellous and extraordinary people in the world today. In the last few days alone (to keep this post brief) I’ve been awe-struck by the grace, ease and “possibilities” of – and advocated by – Benjamin Zander; by the prophetic imagination of Dee Hock and friend, David Herbert, who recognised it early; by the poetic inspiriting of the poets Rachel Mann, and Jo Shapcott and Daljit Nagra, (to whom Rachel brought my attention), and Sally Purcell (to whom Fr Roger Clarke brought my attention).

I’m still reeling from having delighted in the artistic majesty in The King’s Speech; and Maggi Dawn tweeted her friends in the direction of what will doubtless be a blockbuster, The Insatiable Moon, in British Cinemas from March.  And I see, every day, the marvellous and the extraordinary in the family, friends, parishioners, fellow citizens all around me.

And today the Master of Wellington College speaks of happiness classes, of Martin Seligman and Lord Layard. Imagine: 9 English Lit; 9.45 Maths; 11 Double Happiness. Day after day there’s something new and glorious to get stuck into. As the old hymn has it: “New every morning is the love …”

When all is said and done, there’s yet more to be done and said. Some world-changing to be brought about, some world-creating to be engaged in, some justice and peace to be striven for, some hunger and thirst to be satisfied, some shelter to be provided, wells to be plumbed, and gardens to be raised up, good earth to roam, and seas and skies to be traversed; all that is really Real. Truly, it’s a wonderful life.

ANOTHER JOG …

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ISN’T THIS PRICELESS? Yes, the Golden Rule is at work out there already.

[Ken Dodd's] tickling stick reminds me of Dee Hock’s maxim:

You can’t tickle yourself. It’s a social act.

So, who’s tickling me today? I think it haas to be Hock’s reflection on his efforts to develop a new sort of organisation (from the same page as his maxim – p284: Birth of the Chaordic Age):

In the darkest times, and there were many, I could never look out at so many wonderful people and engage with them in laughter and give and take without walking from the room filled with wonder at the human spirit. They could do anything! Anything! And so can everyone, everywhere, if our minds are open enough, and our spirits strong enough to conceive of institutions that enable us to do so.

I’m not giggly, but giddy with that. It’s very ticklicious.

via The Jog.

You can’t tickle yourself. It’s a social act. Marvellous! Good News! And unforgettable!

DREAM BLOSSOMS

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DAVID HERBERT wrote chitter-chatter yesterday. I loved his post, not least for the reference to Lark Rise to Candleford and the lovely winning entry to the said Candleford’s recent poetry competition. But I think that David and I have both been reaching out, more and more over the years, to the joys of silence. Neither of us are strangers to the joys of conversation. Neither of us are ostriches, and our daily working lives see us processing reams of information cheerfully enough. But, but, but … the wisdom David alluded to in Lark Rise (soon to be challenged by the advent of the railway) and – I would say – the equally enchanting Cranford (also soon to be challenged by the advent of the railway) is something we yearn for in our day. Anne Morrow Lindbergh spent weeks alone at the shore one summer. And I’m thinking tonight of her Gift from the Sea:

We seem so frightened today of being alone that we never let it happen. Even if family, friends, and movies should fail, there is still the radio or television to fill up the void. Even day-dreaming was more creative than this; it demanded something of oneself and it fed the inner life. Now, instead of planting our solitude with our own dream blossoms, we choke the space with continuous music, chatter and companionship to which we do not even listen. It is simply there to fill the vacuum. When the noise stops there is no inner music to take its place. We must re-learn to be alone.

My grandmother died well into her nineties. Her last years were not easy. Poor circulation led to the loss of both her legs and a high degree of dependency on others, yet I truly believe that she died happy. Long confined to a wheelchair in a sunny nursing home room, I would visit her there, arriving to find her dear head bent over a book. My heart used to leap with anguish about her littleness and frailty. And its thumping was always stilled with words like these:

The Church has given me the greatest of the gifts I thank God for dear. Family, of course, at home, and in the wider world. And then I think of how she taught me to be silent. And then of how she taught me to read. And having a strong sense of family, and having learned to be silent, and having learned to read, I have, by and by, learned to pray. And so I am happy. Here, anywhere, with or without company, with whatever comes my way. – Norah Keating

Like Anne Morrow Lindbergh alone on the beach, planting dream blossoms, so my long dead grandmother even now stills my heart’s thumping, still quietens anguish, still teaches me to love, to be silent, to read … and by and by to pray. Still, I think David might say, my quiet and Grace-filled grandmother points me to ways of wisdom.

 

THE CHAORDIC AGE

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VICAR & WARDENS meeting this afternoon, reviewing last year and looking ahead to this year’s Growth Action Planning exercises. I’m blessed with marvellous (ordained and lay) colleagues here. We’re working together on what twenty-first century leadership in the Church is about, acknowledging a need for leadership whilst taking collaborative ministry seriously. There couldn’t be any other kind of ministry in this parish of ever-widening circles. Vicar-on-his-tod would have to be Vicar-with-no-time-for-God. So I’m not juggling precarious finances on my own (though they are precarious, even in this “larger” parish), and mine are not the only pair of ears trying to get attuned to the Divine word for our times.

My friend David Herbert shares my enthusiasm for a similar collaboration between mission minded people on the web, too. I check out his blog, and a dozen or so more, most days to see what friends and colleagues are up to. And I was rewarded over at David’s today by his Blackbirds and Hock from which I’ve nicked the following Dee Hock snippet. I’ll be taking this along to our next Growth Action Planning meeting. Cracking New Year questions as we begin to map out our aspirations for the next year or two. Thanks David. I’ve ordered the book … and we’ll doubtless swap notes …

What is this chasm between how institutions profess to function and how they actually do; between what they claim to do for people and what they actually do to them? What makes people behave in the name of institutions in ways they would never behave in their own name? Church, school, government, business – all the same…. Nothing in nature feels like church or school. There’s no ‘principal’ blackbird pecking away at the rest of the flock. There’s no Super frog telling the others how to croak. There’s no teacher tree lining up the saplings and telling them how to grow….

Nothing in the early years prepared me for the shock of institutions. With school and church came crushing confinement and unrelenting boredom … It was as though everyone began to shed wholeness and humanity at the door, along with coats and overshoes, and, one by one, to cut the threads of connection to the inner spirit, the world of nature and the humanity of others.

Dee Hock – Birth of the Chaordic Age via The Jog.