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Showing posts with label isolation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label isolation. Show all posts

Saturday, 21 June 2025

Sermon for the first Sunday after Trinity, Sunday 22 June, titled ‘Release and change’



Here's the sermon for the first Sunday after Trinity, Sunday 22 June, titled ‘Release and change’, that I've recorded for the weekly sermon series of the Diocese of Chelmsford. 

All the sermons in the series can be found on the 'Weekly Sermon Videos' playlist. My earlier sermons in the series can be viewed here and here.

Imagine for a moment what it must be like to hear many voices in your head. Some of us will have had such experiences when events have overwhelmed us and, in our anxiety, we cannot see a way through and so the issues and options we experience run round and round in our minds without finding a resolution. Others of us may have had diagnosed mental health conditions which have included the experience of hearing competing voices. Each of these experiences are distressing and are hard to deal with.

Such experiences give us some insight into the story told in today’s Gospel reading (Luke 8.26-39) and the experiences of the man that Jesus healed, all described in the understandings of Jesus’ time rather than the understandings of today. The man describes his experience in terms of having a legion or mob of voices in his mind and the distress caused leads him to live in a distressed state away from his local community.

Our society, too, sometimes responds to the mental distress that people experience by isolating people from their communities, although, generally, we try to support people as much as possible within their homes, families and communities.

When confronted by this man, Jesus stops, listens and then responds him. Similarly, as Jesus’ followers, we also need to be those prepared to give time and space to any who are anxious or distressed, and especially to listen in ways that enable people to unpack their experiences and those things that are a source of distress for them.

In our Parish, Kintsugi Hope Wellbeing Groups are one of the ways in which we offer such space. Kintsugi Hope Wellbeing Groups provide a structured yet flexible program designed to help participants accept themselves, understand their value and worth, and grow towards a more resilient and hopeful future. These groups are places where people can experience:
  1. Safety and support, where there is no shame in struggling
  2. An increase in self-worth, confidence and wellbeing
  3. A deeper understanding of the reality of God's love for them
  4. Clear pathways to receive additional support if needed
As a result of the groups that have run in our Parish, I am aware of people who have been able to discuss past experiences in their families that hadn’t been talked through previously and others that have been empowered to begin to address issues that have needed addressing for some time.

Many of us respond to uncertainty, anxiety or distress by bottling up our thoughts and feeling; keeping them inside, rather than sharing them with someone else and thereby allowing them to be expressed, explored and understood. Our bottled-up feelings have to go somewhere – they have to expressed – because, if that doesn’t happen, they build up and build up inside us until they finally explode and, by exploding, do more damage that would have been the case if they had been expressed earlier.

It may be that this is what is being depicted for us in the strange part of today’s Gospel reading where the many strong forces in the life of this man are sent, by Jesus, into a herd of pigs which then rush down a steep bank into the lake and are drowned. His pent-up emotions needed to come out – to be expressed – in order to leave him and go elsewhere.

The man needed to see something that symbolised his full and final release in order to believe that he was finally free and that is what the episode with the pigs provided for him. A key part of what happened for them was that their pent-up emotions found a different kind of release which then enabled him to be free of them and to begin to share positively out of the experiences he had had.

I wonder what is bottled-up inside of us that we need to express and release in order to begin to become free from its negative effects on our lives. Again, our Kintsugi Hope Wellbeing Groups can potentially offer safe spaces in which that sort of disclosure is possible but talking to counsellors or psychologists might also be helpful.

This man was able to walk away free from all that had been tormenting him through his encounter with Jesus. More than that he began to share positively out of the difficult experiences he had had. That is also the experience of several from our Kintsugi Hope Wellbeing Groups.

When we are able to address the difficult experiences in our lives – express, explore and move beyond them, so they no longer constrain and limit or harm us – then these wounds in our lives can become the places from which we are able to support and help others. We become wounded healers in the same sort of way that Jesus through his suffering became the source of salvation for each one of us. It is by his wounds that we are healed and, once we have received healing, as with the man in our Gospel reading, then we are often able to support and help others going through similar experiences because of our personal knowledge of what they are currently going through.

Kintsugi Hope works with the centuries-old Japanese repair technique which uses urushi (Japanese lacquer) dusted with powdered gold to restore broken ceramic and porcelain vessels. Rather than masking fractures, kintsugi highlights them with gold to tell an object’s story. Items which have been restored using the kintsugi technique are often considered even more precious than they were before. It is the same with those who receive healing as did the man in today’s Gospel reading as, by becoming wounded healers, we become even more precious than we were before.

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Graham Kenrick feat. Natasha Petrovic w/ mental wellbeing charity Kintsugi Hope - Jesus Of The Scars.

Sunday, 21 January 2024

The fundamental human problem is isolation

Here's the sermon that I shared in tonight's Healing Eucharist at St Andrew’s Wickford:

A group of people brought a paralyzed man lying on a bed to Jesus and Jesus responded to their faith (Matthew 9. 1 – 8). We often read of Jesus responding to people’s faith when he heals and also of Jesus limiting his healing in places like Nazareth where a lack of faith was shown. A lack of faith would have meant that people simply didn’t ask Jesus to help them. Faith, by contrast, opened up the possibility of change, of something new or different occurring. In Hebrews we read that without faith it is impossible to please God, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

Those who brought this man to Jesus believed and were rewarded but not initially in the way they anticipated. They came to Jesus hoping for healing but Jesus responded by forgiving the man’s sins. At the time illness and sin were often equated those who were ill were accused of being punished by God for their sins. Jesus, however, on another occasion, specifically rejected that argument. As a result, we can be sure that Jesus is not making that connection here.

Instead, he could be saying that, for each of us, addressing our sinfulness is of more importance than any other issue or aspect of lives. Whatever the presenting issue in our lives, even something as significant as total paralysis, each pales into insignificance compared to the issue of sin which ultimately cuts us off from relationship with God. Sin is fundamentally living without God. It is being in that place where we don’t have faith, don’t believe and therefore close off the possibility of relationship. Sin means we cannot know we are with God because we don’t believe, and without God we are ultimately cut off from all that is good. Paralysis is an appropriate metaphor for this experience because, when you are paralyzed, you cannot go to be with anyone else. Paralysis is, therefore, an isolating experience unless others come to you or, as in this instance, bring you to others.

Maciej Hoffman’s new exhibition in St Andrew’s shows us what this experience of isolation from God leads to, in the experiences of trauma and conflict that he depicts so powerfully. His paintings confront people with the reality of sin in human life. Alongside his paintings, we have also unveiled David Folley’s equally powerful descent from the cross, which shows what Jesus needed to endure as he entered into to the full reality of a sinful world in order to bring change and healing.

Jesus’ whole life was geared around reversing sin and the isolation it causes. Through his incarnation and nativity he became one of us, moving into our neighbourhood to be Emmanuel, ‘God with us.’ As Sam Wells has stated, “Jesus gives everything that he is for the cause of being with us, for the cause of embracing us within the essence of God’s being.” Ultimately, on the cross, he takes our sin and isolation onto himself to the extent that he loses his own being with God the Father. When he cries out on the cross, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,’ Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, was choosing between being with the Father or being with us. Here is astonishing good news; at the central moment in history, Jesus chose us. “That is the epicentre of the Christian faith and our very definition of love.”

As a result, Jesus can forgive and overcome sin and isolation for each one of us. He can restore us to relationship with God, because he has broken down every barrier that stood between ourselves and God. His incarnation, death and resurrection give him authority to restore relationship with God for all who are separated from God. That is what he offers to the paralyzed man, that is what he debates with the scribes, and that is what he demonstrates by returning to the paralyzed man the ability to overcome isolation by proactively going to be with others.

“If the fundamental human problem is isolation,” Sam Wells argues, “then the solutions we are looking for do not lie in the laboratory or the hospital or the frontiers of human knowledge or experience. Instead the solutions lie in things we already have — most of all, in one another.” Instead of needing others to be with him, the previously paralyzed man can now: be “with” people in poverty and distress even when there is nothing he can do “for” them; be “with” people in grief and sadness and loss even when there is nothing to say; be “with” and listen to and walk with those he finds most difficult rather than trying to fob them off with a gift or a face-saving gesture.

In other words, he can bring the kingdom of heaven to others. That is a heaven which is worth aspiring to, “as it is a rejoining of relationship, of community, of partnership, a sense of being in the presence of another in which there is neither a folding of identities that loses their difference nor a sharpening of difference that leads to hostility, but an enjoyment of the other that evokes cherishing and relishing.” “The theological word for this is communion.” That is what the previously paralyzed man has been enabled to achieve.

To what extent, I wonder, is that something to which we aspire or seek? Does sin paralyze and isolate us or are we freed up to be with others in relationship?

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Moral Support - Sin.

Sunday, 14 May 2023

I have not left you as orphans

Here's the sermon that I preached at St Andrew's Wickford this morning:

In his poem Flood: Years of Solitude, Dionisio D. Martínez raises a glass:

“To the one who sets a second place at the table anyway.
To the one at the back of the empty bus.
To the ones who name each piece of stained glass projected on a white wall.
To anyone convinced that a monologue is a conversation with the past.
To the one who loses with the deck he marked.
To those who are destined to inherit the meek.
To us.”

Bob Dylan famously asked “How does it feel to be on your own?” and Martínez captures the experience perfectly in the opening lines of his poem by conjuring up for us “the one who sets a second place at the table anyway” and “the one at the back of the empty bus.”

Jesus spoke to his disciples about the fact that he would shortly leave them. Firstly, he was about to be killed and they would be left bereft as a result. Secondly, after his resurrection, he would ascend and return to God his Father. He would be gone, yet he would not leave them, and would not leave them orphaned. His discourse at the Last Supper is intended to show how those two seemingly contradictory things can both be true and how, as a result, they would not find themselves in the situation described by Martínez.

Jesus promised that, following his ascension, he would send his Spirit to be with his disciples and be in them (John 14:15-21). That is what happened on the Day of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit is sent to act as a helper for them. The Greek word used is paracletos. There is more than one way of translating this – ‘comforter’ or ‘helper’ (providing whatever is needed to fulfil God’s plan), ‘advocate’ (one who will speak up for us), or ‘intercessor’ (one who will pray and mediate between us and God).

The Holy Spirit can be all of these things for us. Jesus has sent the Spirit to us and so we can ask for his comfort and help in our need, for his advocacy with God when we need to repent, and for the Spirit to give us the words to pray to God when we don’t know what to say. Jesus knew that life would be tough for the disciples after he returned to the Father, so he provided for them at their point of need and does the same for us too.

The Spirit is Jesus with us and in us forever, as well as the one who continues to reveal Jesus to us. As the disciples found after Pentecost, when we have the Spirit of Jesus in us and reminding us of all that Jesus did and said, we are increasingly able to live as Jesus did.

This is where Jesus’ words about his commandments come into play. Jesus said, ‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments’ and ‘They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me’. What are his commandments? When Jesus was asked to give his summary of the law, he said: ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” Then, at the last supper, he said: ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’

Therefore, his commandments are simply that we love; love God, love one another and love ourselves. And these commandments are taken up and repeated throughout the New Testament. In the first letter of John we read: “The command that Christ has given us is this: whoever loves God must love his brother also.” (1 John 4: 21) Similarly, St Paul talks about obeying the law of Christ. How does he describe the law of Christ? “… the whole Law he says is summed up in one commandment: ‘Love your neighbour as you love yourself.’” He goes on to say that we obey the law of Christ by bearing one another’s burdens.

Christianity then has a simple core, which is love. It is not about a lengthy list of do’s and dont’s. It is not about a detailed set of laws covering each and every eventuality. It is not about rules and regulations. It is not about those things, but it is about love. At the heart of all the laws and commandments which the Bible contains there is love and if we are not loving in the way in which we understand and apply the laws and commandments found in the Old Testament then we work against the thing which is at their heart, which is their spirit, which is love.

When he summarised the law for the Pharisees, Jesus was saying that there are three loves; love of God, love of neighbours (by which he meant particularly those in need and those who are our enemies) and love of self. All three are legitimate but all three are not equal. The greatest commandment is to love God with all that we have and are. The second is to love ourselves and to love others in the same way that we love and accept ourselves. The second follows from the first because it is only in a love relationship with God that we are able to accept ourselves as we really are and therefore are able to accept and love others as we accept and love ourselves.

As ever, we see this lived out by Jesus. In John chapter 13 we read about the occasion on which Jesus demonstrated his service of his disciples by washing their feet. John tells us that: “Jesus knew that the Father had given him complete power; he knew that he had come from God and was going to God. So, he rose from the table … and began to wash the disciples’ feet.” It was because Jesus knew and accepted who he was that he was then able to love and serve his disciples. When we know that we are unconditionally loved by God then we are set free for the risk of loving others in the same way.

The particular kind of love that is at the heart of Jesus’ life and which is at the heart of the Bible is a love that serves. Jesus said: “The greatest love a person can have for his friends is to give his life for them.” Likewise, Paul says to the Galatians: “let love make you serve one another.”

This gives us another reason why we will not be alone although Jesus is no longer with us in the flesh. That is because he is also to be found in those we love and serve. St Martin of Tours followed in the footsteps of Jesus by getting off his horse and cutting his cloak in two to give half to a beggar shivering outside the gates of Amiens on a cold day. That night, Jesus appeared to Martin in a dream to say that Martin had clothed him. Martin met Jesus in the beggar to whom he gave his cloak and we, too, will meet Jesus in those we serve.

We are not left orphaned by Jesus because he gives us his Spirit within us, because his Spirit reminds us of all that he did and said so we can live in him and become like him and, when we do so by loving and serving others, we discover that Jesus also comes to us in the form of those we love and serve. In this way, we can be swept up in Jesus and surrounded by him; receiving his Spirit, living the Jesus life of love, and receiving him in those we love.

Gillian Welch sings a song called ‘Orphan Girl’ in which she is “an orphan on God’s highway” with “no mother no father / No sister no brother.” She prays:

“Blessed Savior make me willing
And walk beside me until I'm with them
Be my mother my father
My sister my brother”

That prayer comes true as we receive Jesus’ Spirit, the Advocate, who is given to be with us for ever. Amen.

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Gillian Welch - Orphan Girl.

Tuesday, 21 July 2020

A prayer for the easing of lockdown

God of being and doing, of waiting and renewal 
your Son's disciples locked themselves in the upper room after the crucifixion 
and responded in different ways and at different times to his resurrection return.
As Jesus responded to each individually, assuring each of his love and presence, 
may we know your presence with us now, 
each in our different places following the easing of lockdown.
For those now able to leave their homes, 
we pray for wisdom in their use of regained freedoms.
For those who continue shielding at home, 
we pray for a increased connection and community.
For those for whom isolation and restriction are ongoing reality, 
we pray their voices and experience will now be heard, understood and valued.
As community was found in our shared experience, 
so may unity be found as our experiences now diverge. 
And in our diversity, hold us together within the embrace of your love. 
Amen.

With thanks to Fiona MacMillan for ideas and editing.

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Arvo Pärt - Kanon Pokajanen: Prayer After the Canon.

Thursday, 2 July 2020

The fundamental human problem is isolation

Here's the reflection I shared in today's lunchtime Eucharist for St Martin-in-the-Fields:

A group of people brought a paralyzed man lying on a bed to Jesus and Jesus responded to their faith (Matthew 9. 1-8). We often read of Jesus responding to people’s faith when he heals and also of Jesus limiting his healing in places like Nazareth where a lack of faith was shown. A lack of faith would have meant that people simply didn’t ask Jesus to help them. Faith, by contrast, opened up the possibility of change, of something new or different occurring. In Hebrews we read that without faith it is impossible to please God, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

Those who brought this man to Jesus believed and were rewarded but not initially in the way they anticipated. They came to Jesus hoping for healing but Jesus responded by forgiving the man’s sins. At the time illness and sin were often equated those who were ill were accused of being punished by God for their sins. Jesus, however, on another occasion, specifically rejected that argument. As a result, we can be sure that Jesus is not making that connection here.

Instead, he could be saying that, for each of us, addressing our sinfulness is of more importance than any other issue or aspect of lives. Whatever the presenting issue in our lives, even something as significant as total paralysis, each pales into insignificance compared to the issue of sin which ultimately cuts us off from relationship with God. Sin is fundamentally living without God. It is being in that place where we don’t have faith, don’t believe and therefore close off the possibility of relationship. Sin means we cannot be know we are with God, because we don’t believe, and without God we are ultimately cut off from all that is good. Paralysis is an appropriate metaphor for this experience because, when you are paralyzed, you cannot go to be with anyone else. Paralysis is, therefore, an isolating experience unless others come to you or, as in this instance, bring you to others.

Jesus’ whole life is geared around reversing sin and the isolation it causes. Through his incarnation and nativity he became one of us, moving into our neighbourhood to be Emmanuel, ‘God with us.’ As Sam Wells has stated, “Jesus gives everything that he is for the cause of being with us, for the cause of embracing us within the essence of God’s being.” Ultimately, on the cross, he takes our sin and isolation onto himself to the extent that he loses his own being with God the Father. When he cries out on the cross, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,’ Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, was choosing between being with the Father or being with us. Here is astonishing good news; at the central moment in history, Jesus chose us. “That is the epicentre of the Christian faith and our very definition of love.”

As a result, Jesus can forgive and overcome sin and isolation for each one of us. He can restore us to relationship with God, because he has broken down every barrier that stood between ourselves and God. His incarnation, death and resurrection give him authority to restore relationship with God for all who are separated from God. That is what he offers to the paralyzed man, that is what he debates with the scribes, and that is what he demonstrates by returning to the paralyzed man the ability to overcome isolation by proactively going to be with others.

“If the fundamental human problem is isolation,” Sam Wells argues, “then the solutions we are looking for do not lie in the laboratory or the hospital or the frontiers of human knowledge or experience. Instead the solutions lie in things we already have — most of all, in one another.” Instead of needing others to be with him, the previously paralyzed man can now: be “with” people in poverty and distress even when there is nothing he can do “for” them; be “with” people in grief and sadness and loss even when there is nothing to say; be “with” and listen to and walk with those he finds most difficult rather than trying to fob them off with a gift or a face-saving gesture.

In other words he can bring the kingdom of heaven to others. That is a heaven which is worth aspiring to, “as it is a rejoining of relationship, of community, of partnership, a sense of being in the presence of another in which there is neither a folding of identities that loses their difference nor a sharpening of difference that leads to hostility, but an enjoyment of the other that evokes cherishing and relishing.” “The theological word for this is communion.” That is what the previously paralyzed man has been enabled to achieve.

To what extent, I wonder, is that something to which we aspire or seek? Does sin paralyze and isolate us or are we freed up to be with others in relationship?

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T. Bone Burnett - Trap Door.

Sunday, 17 May 2020

Artlyst: Home Alone Together Twenty Five Artists

My latest article for Artlyst is a review of Home Alone Together, an online exhibition at Image Journal:

'The shared, bounded environment in which people now live can be a space of refuge – representing safety from a nebulous, deadly threat, but can also be a pressure cooker. The exhibition recognises that we are all caught up in a strange experiment of uncertain duration, and even those fortunate enough to escape direct loss and trauma are being forced to reckon with new realities – economic, emotional, spiritual – from the (dis)comfort of their own home. In this unsettled moment, the exhibition’s curators – S. Billie Mandle and Aaron Rosen – suggest that artists can help draw our experience into focus.'

My other Artlyst pieces are:

Interviews:
Articles:
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Blessid Union of Souls - Home.

Thursday, 16 April 2020

God of the visible and the invisible

Here are intercessions that I wrote for today's Eucharist at St Martin-in-the-Fields:

God of the visible and the invisible, God of the incarnate Christ and the ascended Christ, God of the Son who lived and died in 1st century Palestine and God of the Spirit that blows where it chooses in every time and culture, we come before you today acknowledging all your different guises and ways of being. We cannot fully understand you, we cannot constrain you, and yet we can know you, love you, and know your love and life in us. In awe and wonder at your diversity and variety, we ask that we might encounter you in as many ways as we can bear and, especially, within the challenges and changes brought by Covid-19. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of presence and absence, we ask that in this time of physical distancing we may learn from the insights of those that have sought isolation in order to pray allowing our cells to teach us everything, as the city truly becomes our monastery. We ask, too, that, although physically separate, we will not neglect to meet together but encourage one another, and all the more as we face together the challenges of this day and time. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of affirmation and negation, we ask that, in this time of loss, we will discover what is truly central to our lives and loves, praying for all who have lost loved ones that the memories of all that was shared will come to outweigh the sudden bleakness of loss. In our loss of liberty and movement, may we see afresh and affirm all that we had overlooked and ignored in the haste and hurry of our previous lives; the beauty of birdsong, the clearness of air and sky, the peace and rest encountered in the still and the slow. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of touch and distance, we pray that we may understand our social distancing as an act of love to protect others from danger and maintain this discipline until no longer necessary. We pray for those whose touching of others is essential for the saving of life – all medics, paramedics, care workers and all in other emergency services – praying that they might be given the PPE and testing needed for their own protection. We pray, too, for those who are the recipients of their care praying for many that care will enable recovery. We pray, too, that our physical distancing at this time may become a spur to acts of greater love, support and service towards others, in ways that, while virtual, are nevertheless full of care, concern and meaning. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God of sight and insight, we pray for those we only see virtually giving thanks for the technology that enables us to see others without their being physically present and for those that invented, maintain and develop that technology. We give thanks too for all who have preceded us in using this technology well – often those who have been on the edge of society and church – praying that we will learn from their experiences and value all they have to share. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

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The Innocence Mission - St Francis And The Future.

Friday, 27 October 2017

The isolating paralysis of sin

Here is my sermon from yesterday's Eucharist at St Stephen Walbrook:

A group of people brought a paralyzed man lying on a bed to Jesus and Jesus responded to their faith (Matthew 9. 1 - 8). We often read of Jesus responding to people’s faith when he heals and also of Jesus limiting his healing in places like Nazareth where a lack of faith was shown. A lack of faith would have meant that people simply didn’t ask Jesus to help them. Faith, by contrast, opened up the possibility of change, of something new or different occurring. In Hebrews we read that without faith it is impossible to please God, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

Those who brought this man to Jesus believed and were rewarded but not initially in the way they anticipated. They came to Jesus hoping for healing but Jesus responded by forgiving the man’s sins. At the time illness and sin were often equated those who were ill were accused of being punished by God for their sins. Jesus, however, on another occasion, specifically rejected that argument. As a result, we can be sure that Jesus is not making that connection here.

Instead, he could be saying that, for each of us, addressing our sinfulness is of more importance than any other issue or aspect of lives. Whatever the presenting issue in our lives, even something as significant as total paralysis, each pales into insignificance compared to the issue of sin which ultimately cuts us off from relationship with God. Sin is fundamentally living without God. It is being in that place where we don’t have faith, don’t believe and therefore close off the possibility of relationship. Sin means we cannot be know we are with God, because we don’t believe, and without God we are ultimately cut off from all that is good. Paralysis is an appropriate metaphor for this experience because, when you are paralyzed, you cannot go to be with anyone else. Paralysis is, therefore, an isolating experience unless others come to you or, as in this instance, bring you to others.

Jesus’ whole life is geared around reversing sin and the isolation it causes. Through his incarnation and nativity he became one of us, moving into our neighbourhood to be Emmanuel, ‘God with us.’ As Sam Wells has stated, “Jesus gives everything that he is for the cause of being with us, for the cause of embracing us within the essence of God’s being.” Ultimately, on the cross, he takes our sin and isolation onto himself to the extent that he loses his own being with God the Father. When he cries out on the cross, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,’ Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, was choosing between being with the Father or being with us. Here is astonishing good news; at the central moment in history, Jesus chose us. “That is the epicentre of the Christian faith and our very definition of love.”

As a result, Jesus can forgive and overcome sin and isolation for each one of us. He can restore us to relationship with God, because he has broken down every barrier that stood between ourselves and God. His incarnation, death and resurrection give him authority to restore relationship with God for all who are separated from God. That is what he offers to the paralyzed man, that is what he debates with the scribes, and that is what he demonstrates by returning to the paralyzed man the ability to overcome isolation by proactively going to be with others.

“If the fundamental human problem is isolation,” Sam Wells argues, “then the solutions we are looking for do not lie in the laboratory or the hospital or the frontiers of human knowledge or experience. Instead the solutions lie in things we already have — most of all, in one another.” Instead of needing others to be with him, the previously paralyzed man can now: be “with” people in poverty and distress even when there is nothing he can do “for” them; be “with” people in grief and sadness and loss even when there is nothing to say; be “with” and listen to and walk with those he finds most difficult rather than trying to fob them off with a gift or a face-saving gesture.

In other words he can bring the kingdom of heaven to others. That is a heaven which is worth aspiring to, “as it is a rejoining of relationship, of community, of partnership, a sense of being in the presence of another in which there is neither a folding of identities that loses their difference nor a sharpening of difference that leads to hostility, but an enjoyment of the other that evokes cherishing and relishing.” “The theological word for this is communion.” That is what the previously paralyzed man has been enabled to achieve.

To what extent, I wonder, is that something to which we aspire or seek? Does sin paralyze and isolate us or are we freed up to be with others in relationship?

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Mark Heard - Rise From The Ruins.

Friday, 6 May 2016

Review - Recording Britain Now: Society

My latest review for Church Times is of “Recording Britain Now: Society”, the 2015 John Ruskin Prize exhibition:

"[John] Ruskin believed that, to achieve the highest artistic ideals, the artist must understand the God given laws of nature by paying attention to minute details as well as spectacular effects. Accordingly, [Susie] Hamilton, like others in the show, observes from the sidelines, “scrutinising tourists, shoppers, holidaymakers, diners, hen nights and other scenes of leisure”, working quickly to catch particular poses that say “something about human vulnerability and about the pathos of those who process or trudge or consume or travel in the quest for meaning or excitement”.

In this way, her paying attention to minute details results in the poetry and prophecy of which Ruskin spoke. Similarly, Simone Weil believed that to pay attention in this way was prayer. If we see clearly with these artists and this exhibition, then we will be praying, and, when we pay attention to the issue of isolation, which is what they see so clearly, we will be focusing on the very mission of God."

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Gregory Porter - Take Me To The Alley.

Friday, 22 April 2016

The whole purpose of a political leader is to make successful alliances

Last Sunday The Observer published an interview with Neil MacGregor in which he made what seem to me to be some of the most pertinent observations that I have heard to date on the issues surrounding the EU referendum and the possibility of Brexit. In the interview he talks about acts of memory as a defining difference within Europe:

'In Germany, he says, “the thing I continue to find striking is that in the centre of Berlin you keep coming across monuments to national shame. I think that is unique in the world.”

Did they really have an option but to confront what had happened though?

“Well,” he says. “Austria hasn’t done it. Post-Soviet Russia hasn’t done it. Japan hasn’t done it.”

And, he would suggest, Britain and France have never really done it. “If you compare the way we remember, the perfect example was the opening ceremony of the Olympics, that selective national memory: all true but not looking at any of the difficult bits.”

Two things, he says, in the past couple of months have highlighted that complacency. The Cecil Rhodes statue debate “shows that we still cannot look at the past dispassionately, even a hundred years on”. Likewise, the centenary of the Easter Rising. “There is still no appetite to look hard at British behaviour in Ireland. What I find so painfully admirable about the German experience is that they are determined to find the historical truth and acknowledge it however painful it is. You can’t be an informed adult – or an artist – in Germany without doing that.”

The great thing a museum can do is allow us to look at the world as if through other eyes

That reflexive act of memory also colours the great political schisms of our times. Much has changed in Europe in the 18 months since the British Museum’s Germany show and the first publication of his book. It contains many chapters of forensic storytelling, but the one that stands out reading it now is MacGregor’s analysis of a simple refugee cart. That cart was representative of one of the most forgotten events of the last century: the forced “repatriation” of German speakers from eastern Europe after the war. About 30 million people were “ethnically cleansed” and 12-14 million returned to a devastated homeland they didn’t know, and became absorbed into a society that was rebuilt and reordered within a decade.

“If you try to explain why Germany has taken its unique stance on Syrian refugees in Europe you can’t ignore this,” MacGregor says. “Some argue the policy is another way of atoning for the Nazi era. But another absolutely central motivation, rarely mentioned, is that almost everybody now in Germany in their 20s or 30s has a grandparent or great-grandparent who has been a refugee. Pretty well every German has direct family experience of knowing what it means to be welcomed.”

The other debate that has become more charged since the book first appeared is the notion of sovereignty. MacGregor believes that the British and Germans mean completely different things when they use that word. Partly because of its own traumatic experience of nationalism and partly because of the history of shifting borders and alliances during the Holy Roman Empire, in Germany, he says, sovereignty always means an appetite for coalition and compromise. “Any German knows that as well as the Bundestag there are 16 other parliaments making laws within its borders. In Britain we don’t have the language for that.”

The European debate in Britain looks so strange if you are a German for precisely this reason, he suggests. “German people see the whole purpose of a political leader is to make successful alliances. The proper use of sovereignty is all about pooling it to achieve your aims. The British idea that you should entirely do these things on your own and try to assume total control over your environment is unthinkable.”'

This, it seems to me, explains, in part, the shortcomings of the argument currently being made by anti-EU campaigners that Barack Obama is guilty of double standards when he encourages the UK to remain part of the EU. What those campaigners fail to acknowledge is that the USA is, as it says on the tin, a Union of States. Obama recognises the importance of cooperation rather than isolation and interdependence rather than independence because that is built in to the existence of America, part of its raison d'être. By contrast, the anti-EU campaigners believe, as McGregor notes, that we should entirely do these things on our own and try to assume total control over our environment. In my view it is this refusal to recognise the value of cooperation and interdependence that causes the shallowness in the arguments made in favour of Brexit.

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Woody Guthrie - This Land Is Your Land.

Monday, 1 June 2015

A Nazareth Manifesto


'At the interface of critical academic reflection and faithful church theology, we have no better voice than that of Sam Wells. He invites us to rethink, from the ground up, our abiding temptation to condescending “help and service” to others. He compellingly renders a more excellent way toward the transformative “with.”' Walter Brueggemann

Last Friday I was at the launch of Sam's latest book, A Nazareth Manifesto, which is an eloquent and impassioned ecumenical proposal for re-envisioning Christianity’s approach to social engagement away from working “for” the people to being “with” them. The book questions the effectiveness of the current trend of intervention as a means of fixing the problems of people in distressed and disadvantaged circumstances. Sam argues that Jesus spent 90% of his life simply being among the people of Nazareth, sharing their hopes and struggles, therefore Christians should place a similar emphasis on being alongside people in need rather than hastening to impose solutions.

This is a particularly significant book because Sam maintains 'that the word with is the most important word in theology.' The book 'is an enquiry into whether with is the pervading theme that runs through Trinity, creation, incarnation, atonement, the sending of the Spirit, ecclesiology, and eschatology.' Additionally, Sam argues that the human project in the West has been to secure life against limitation in general and mortality in particular, but that such efforts have only deepened the true predicament, which is isolation.' 

A Nazareth Manifesto comes out of Sam's experience of trying to lead influential institutions in ways that bring about empowering and dignifying relationships with people experiencing social disadvantage.

Jean Vanier said in his Templeton Prize acceptance remarks: 'A Nazareth Manifesto reveals that Jesus came to teach us, not just to do things for people who are homeless, but to be with them. Yes, that is the real secret of the church, and the secret of our communities, and hopefully one day it will be the secret of all humanity, to be with.

To be with is to live side by side, it is enter into mutual relationships of friendship and concern. It is to laugh and to cry together, it is to mutually transform each other. Each person becomes a gift for the other, revealing to each other that we are all part of a huge and wonderful family, the family of God.'

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Sydney Carter - I Come Like A Beggar.

Saturday, 28 March 2015

Visual meditation: 'Solo' by Marlene Dumas

My latest visual meditation for ArtWay focuses on Marlene Dumas' Solo, a crucifixion image which can currently be seen in Dumas' retrospective at Tate Modern entitled The Image as Burden.

In this meditation I say that:

'Solo, and the other Crucifixions from this show, are images of aloneness. Christ and his cross exist in voids of darkness or light. In Solo the dark cross fills the white void, while Christ is compressed and condensed at the pinnacle of the painting and at the point of death; a defeated, forsaken, tragic figure. As with many of Dumas’ images, these Crucifixions are meditations on the depths of human suffering; homo homini lupus est, ‘man is a wolf to man’.'

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Torres - New Skin.