It was great to be at
St Martin in the Bullring today for the latest
HeartEdge conference entitled 'Christ in the Stranger' with input from
Bishop Guli Francis-Dehqani and
Sam Wells. It was also great to catch up with HeartEdge and other friends that I hadn't seen in a long time.
The foundational conviction of HeartEdge is that God gives us everything we need but we need to be willing to receive it in the form in which God sends it. Matthew 25 and Luke 10 show us some of the forms in which God sends it – and both refer explicitly to the stranger. The conference focused on how congregations can most appropriately receive the gifts of God in the stranger and how in particular they may respond to the Christian-influenced voices in this country expressing hostility to migrants today.
The day also included interactive workshops on the HeartEdge 4 Cs. I contributed a workshop on 'Christ in Creatives'. The introduction to this workshop was as follows:
I want to talk today about dialogue with creatives as a
means the kind of constructive and respectful relationship that the Church has
discovered in the arena of interfaith dialogue. A conversation is only possible
when all the conversation partners agree that each can say what they see, with
the others listening before discussing synergies and differences. That
foundation of respect and attention enables genuinely insightful conversations
to occur. That, I think, is the primary aim for churches in engaging with
creatives. When churches do this, they discover that conversation connects –
with artists, with the Art world, with those who regularly view art and with
the casual visitor (by enhancing the depth and variety of their experience in
the space).
The artist and theologian Makoto Fujimura has advocated for
a spirit of generosity that awaits genesis moments that have generative
capacity when engaging with creatives. In describing such approaches, he
arrives at the image of an estuary, where salt-water mixes with fresh, in a
confluence of river and tidal waters.
An estuary is an environment not of protection but of
preparation. Estuaries are a critical nursery area, for example, for young
salmon, striped bass, and other fish that come downstream after hatching. Life
in semi-protected estuarial wetlands during a critical period in their
development readies these fish for life in the ocean. The purpose of estuaries
is not so much protection as preparation. Each individual habitat strengthens
its participants to interact with the wider environment, making for a diversity
that is healthy enough for true competition.
Sam Wells has suggested that Fujimura’s image of an estuary
offers a humble but intriguing reassessment of what the church thinks it’s
doing when it engages with culture. One might say the church has long assumed
it was the sea, to which every river led. Or it might be said to have
identified with the pure water of the river, in contrast with the salty water
of the sea. But the image of an estuary is helpful for a church regarding
itself as a meeting place of human and divine, gospel and culture, timeless truth
and embodied experience, word and world.
‘… the metaphor of a transitional place where
cross-fertilisation can take place and creativity can thrive amid diverse
conversation partners may be apt. Churches work hard to make themselves
inspiring locations where people are drawn into a sense of the presence of God;
but they can work equally hard to make themselves hospitable locations where
people of varied backgrounds may gather in a spirit or mutual appreciation,
generous regard and constructive challenge. The two purposes of church need not
be mutually exclusive.’
Sam also shows how: ‘Art is a perfect example of how such an
estuary space may flourish. A congregation may encourage art on three levels.
One is the participatory: a local church may host an artists’ and
craftspeoples’ group; it may take participants of all abilities; there’s no
reason why it can’t host members of all faiths and none; perhaps each month a
member of the group may be invited to exhibit their work in a valued and
visible place, and be given the opportunity to write or speak about it.
Another is the aspirational: a competition might be held for
an artefact to be placed permanently in the church building, tenders invited,
donors sought, publicity encouraged, visitors attracted. Similar approaches
might apply for temporary art installations.
A third level is the commercial. A church building might be
a suitable venue for a display and sale of artworks; yet another host of new
faces drawn in, conversations triggered, relationships made; and the church
perhaps taking a 20% cut of all piece sold.
In a short time, a secluded, secretive space may be opened
out to become a centre of community activity, energy, and creativity. Much the
same principles and categories would apply for choral music or drama or
literature. What’s needed is for a church to let go of the need for direct
outcomes and linear trajectories and to let the Holy Spirit govern the
interactions and catalyse its own surprises.’
This workshop was based on my case study on Churches and Cultural Programming which can be read by clicking here. I will be giving a talk on this topic at St Andrew's Wickford on Friday 17 July at 7.00 pm.
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