Do you and I walk on holy ground all the time?

Here's the sermon on Exodus 3.1-15 that I shared at St Andrew’s Wickford this morning:

"A man named Moses is tending his sheep in the land of Midian when he comes across a burning bush. He moves closer to see more and hears the voice of God, speaking to him about his people and their need to be delivered from the land of Egypt. God tells Moses to take off his sandals, for the ground he is standing on is holy.” (R. Bell, Velvet Elvis, Zondervan, 2005)

Holy Ground is an art installation by Paul Hobbs which includes a collection of shoes and stories from Christians all around the world. The stories are short statements about what it means for each person to believe in Christ in their particular situation. Among those represented are: a thief, a refugee, the despised, the rejected – people who Jesus specially sought out – as well as those who have known great opportunity, wealth and success. There are those who are beautiful, those who are disabled, those struggling to make a living and raise a family, those who have known great loss and tragedy, and those asking the deep questions of life. All have encountered the living God, arriving at a place of holy ground; where they must, metaphorically at least, remove their shoes in acknowledgement of God’s holiness.

For some the idea of giving up their shoes for this project seemed amusing and culturally odd. For others it was costly to give their only pair of shoes in exchange for another. For some it was an honour to be featured in this way, to have their story told to represent others from their situation. For many, it was an expression of thankfulness to be able to share their stories with others.

At the burning bush, God said to Moses, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground” (Exodus 3/2-5). Similarly, acknowledging God’s holiness is the beginning of life as a Christian. What, I wonder, would your story be of metaphorically taking off your sandals in acknowledgement of God’s holiness?

Here is a very different figure; this time a sculpture by the Canadian artist David Robinson. “Dressed in his finest uniform (suit, tie, pants perfectly pressed) the bronze figure would blend in well with the teeming businessmen of the city. He is tidy. His hair is groomed. Not too young, not too old, he is in his prime, at the top of his game. One expects his head to be held high and it is. Is he, like everyone else, focused on the horizon of his ambition?

Thousands might note in passing that this is no hero, no grand general and no great statesman; in fact the crowds of the morning rush might not find him notable at all. Yet, though in business there is never a minute to spare, allowing him even a moment’s notice would pay off a hundredfold. Would some turn aside and see that he is not rushing as they are? Would anyone take time to look at his hands, to look at his feet?

Bare feet. What has caused this perfectly dressed businessman to humbly remove his shoes? In the stillness of the erect figure, face looking upward, we do not see what he sees but we can perceive a heavenly and personal encounter. Perhaps it is a gesture of repentance that he holds his shoes so lightly?”

These details should bring to mind that “man of another era who similarly, while busy at his workday job, had an encounter which changed his life forever.” As we have heard, “while minding his father-in-law’s sheep in the desert, this man came upon a contradiction: a green bush aflame but not consumed. He could have hastened on his way but for some reason did not.”

“As the story goes, when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, he called to him from out of the bush by name, saying, “Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” David Robinson’s sculpture says that, under the bare feet of this everyday man, there is holy ground.

Reflecting on this sculpture Irena Tippett concludes, “So here is the truth: There is no time or place immune to the intrusion (if you will) of the living God. Even in a city strident with buying and selling, God is able to reveal himself to people.” 

American Pastor Rob Bell makes a similar point: "Moses has been tending his sheep in this region for forty years. How many times has he passed by this spot? How many times has he stood in this exact place? And now God tells him the ground is holy?

Has the ground been holy the whole time and Moses is just becoming aware of it for the first time?

Do you and I walk on holy ground all the time, but we are moving so fast and returning so many calls and writing so many emails and having such long lists to get done that we miss it?" (R. Bell, Velvet Elvis, Zondervan, 2005)

So, in the words of Woody Guthrie:

“Take off, take off your shoes
This place you’re standing, it’s holy ground
Take off, take off your shoes
The spot you’re standing, its holy ground

Amen

The whole world is holy ground

"A man named Moses is tending his sheep in the land of Midian when he comes across a burning bush. He moves closer to see more and hears the voice of God, speaking to him about his people and their need to be delivered from the land of Egypt. God tells Moses to take off his sandals, for the ground he is standing on is holy.” (R. Bell, Velvet Elvis, Zondervan, 2005)

Holy Ground is an art installation by Paul Hobbs which includes a collection of shoes and stories from Christians all around the world. The stories are short statements about what it means for each person to believe in Christ in their particular situation. Among those represented are: a thief, a refugee, the despised, the rejected – people who Jesus specially sought out – as well as those who have known great opportunity, wealth and success. There are those who are beautiful, those who are disabled, those struggling to make a living and raise a family, those who have known great loss and tragedy, and those asking the deep questions of life. All have encountered the living God, arriving at a place of holy ground; where they must, metaphorically at least, remove their shoes in acknowledgement of God’s holiness.

Some contributors are persecuted and despised for their faith, yet retain confidence in the living God. Several people need to be anonymous due to the lack of religious freedom in their lands. For others, anonymity allows them to speak more easily. Jesus said, “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 5/10).

For some the idea of giving up their shoes for this project seemed amusing and culturally odd. For others it was costly to give their only pair of shoes in exchange for another. For some it was an honour to be featured in this way, to have their story told to represent others from their situation. For many, it was an expression of thankfulness to be able to share their stories with others.

At the burning bush, God said to Moses, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground” (Exodus 3/2-5). Similarly, acknowledging God’s holiness is the beginning of life as a Christian.

What would your story be of metaphorically taking off your sandals in acknowledgement of God’s holiness?

Hobbs goes on to say that “as a believer follows Jesus Christ, he or she finds that this holy God is also a servant king, humbly and lovingly attending to one’s needs, just as when he washed his disciples feet (John 13/3-5).

As testified in many of the stories, Christians are encouraged to bring this gospel to others with “feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace” (Ephesians 6/14-15) and thus they realise the prophecy of Isaiah, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation” (Isaiah 52/7).”

So he “trusts that this collection of shoes and stories will show the rich variety of believers across the world, their strength of faith despite hardship, and their joy in knowing Christ. The collection also demonstrates God’s love to all types of people, and is a testimony of how the gospel has spread - often at great cost - throughout the world over the last two thousand years, and how it is reaching every part of the globe.

Please pray for people like these – many of whom make great sacrifices and take great risks to follow Christ where they live.” In this way he reminds us of those, such as Christians in North Iraq at present, who need our prayers, our giving and our action on their behalf. He says, “I am struck, in looking at these shoes, by Jesus’ words, “Many who are first will be last, and the last first” (Mark 10/31).”

Here is a very different figure; this time a sculpture by the Canadian artist David Robinson. Irena Tippett writes: “Dressed in his finest uniform (suit, tie, pants perfectly pressed) the bronze figure would blend in well with the teeming businessmen of the city. He is tidy. His hair is groomed. Not too young, not too old, he is in his prime, at the top of his game. One expects his head to be held high and it is. Is he, like everyone else, focused on the horizon of his ambition?

Thousands might note in passing that this is no hero, no grand general and no great statesman; in fact the crowds of the morning rush might not find him notable at all. Yet, though in business there is never a minute to spare, allowing him even a moment’s notice would pay off a hundredfold. Would some turn aside and see that he is not rushing as they are? Would anyone take time to look at his hands, to look at his feet?

Bare feet. What has caused this perfectly dressed businessman to humbly remove his shoes? In the stillness of the erect figure, face looking upward, we do not see what he sees but we can perceive a heavenly and personal encounter. Perhaps it is a gesture of repentance that he holds his shoes so lightly?”

These details should bring to mind that “man of another era who similarly, while busy at his workday job, had an encounter which changed his life forever.” As we have heard, “while minding his father-in-law’s sheep in the desert, this man came upon a contradiction: a green bush aflame but not consumed. He could have hastened on his way but for some reason did not.”

“As the story goes, when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, he called to him from out of the bush by name, saying, “Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”

It is by no means certain that everyone would catch the allusion to Moses’ powerful call in the wilderness or know how in that place he met the living God face to face. Nevertheless, David Robinson’s sculpture speaks clearly. Today, under the bare feet of his everyday man, there is holy ground.

Like Barbra Streisand in her song ‘On Holy Ground’ we’re much more comfortable with the concept of God’s being limited to churches or other sacred spaces. Yet the universal message of the sculpture is clear: the whole world is potentially holy ground. Look how the globe extends beneath those shoeless feet.”

Reflecting on this sculpture Irena Tippett concludes, “So here is the truth: There is no time or place immune to the intrusion (if you will) of the living God. Even in a city strident with buying and selling, God is able to reveal himself to people. And a corollary is this: There is no one immune to an encounter with him. Through Jesus Christ God’s great mercy extends to all who hear his voice.”

American Pastor Rob Bell makes a similar point: "Moses has been tending his sheep in this region for forty years. How many times has he passed by this spot? How many times has he stood in this exact place? And now God tells him the ground is holy?

Has the ground been holy the whole time and Moses is just becoming aware of it for the first time?

Do you and I walk on holy ground all the time, but we are moving so fast and returning so many calls and writing so many emails and having such long lists to get done that we miss it?" (R. Bell, Velvet Elvis, Zondervan, 2005)

One of my favourite quote comes from David Adam. You will no doubt have heard me use it before, but it bears repeating: “If our God is to be found only in our churches and our private prayers, we are denuding the world of His reality and our faith of credibility. We need to reveal that our God is in all the world and waits to be discovered there – or, to be more exact, the world is in Him, all is in the heart of God. Our work, our travels, our joys and our sorrows are enfolded in His loving care. We cannot for a moment fall out of the hands of God. Typing pool and workshop, office and factory are all as sacred as the church. The presence of God pervades the work place as much as He does a church sanctuary.” (Power Lines: Celtic Prayers about Work, SPCK, 1992)

So, in the words of Woody Guthrie:

“Take off, take off your shoes
This place you’re standing, it’s holy ground
Take off, take off your shoes
The spot you’re standing, its holy ground

These words I heard in my burning bush
This place you’re standing, it’s holy ground
I heard my fiery voice speak to me
This spot you’re standing, it’s holy ground

That spot is holy holy ground
That place you stand it’s holy ground
This place you tread, it’s holy ground
God made this place his holy ground

Take off your shoes and pray
The ground you walk it’s holy ground
Take off your shoes and pray
The ground you walk it’s holy ground

Every spot on earth I trapse around
Every spot I walk it’s holy ground
Every spot on earth I trapse around
Every spot I walk it’s holy ground

Every spot it’s holy ground
Every little inch it’s holy ground
Every grain of dirt it’s holy ground
Every spot I walk it’s holy ground”

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The Klezmatics - Holy Ground.

Cynicism and grace

For various reasons I've been reflecting recently on aspects of ministry that can be perceived as or predicted to be failures in that there are no tangible positive results from our input (such as, for example, pastoral visits to those with dementia).

It seems to me that investing time, effort and energy in people and situations which do not yield tangible positive results or even where it can be anticipated that such results are unlikely to be achieved is an inevitable element of ministry. This is because ministry is essentially creating or offering an opportunity for grace to be received and, because we have free will, such opportunities are often rejected.

While there is a real sense that discouragement is likely to follow if all we experience is the rejection of those grace opportunities we are involved in creating, nevertheless it seems to me that we cannot pick and choose those to whom grace is to be offered and therefore need to be willing and able to offer opportunities for grace to be received to those whom come our way.

As a result, while seeking to be wise about the motivations of those with whom we come into contact, it seems wrong to me to be cynical about the motivations of others and to withhold ministry and the opportunity for grace to be received for that reason.

I've finally got around to reading Rob Bell's excellent Love Wins, long after the controversy it caused has blown over, and, with the above thoughts in mind, was particularly struck by the following:

"Cynicism we know, and skepticism we're familiar with. We know how to analyze and pick apart and point out inconsistencies. We're good at it. We've all been burned, promised any number of things only to be let down. And so over time we get our guard up, we don't easily believe anything and trust can become like a foreign tongue, a language we used to speak but now we find ourselves out of practice.

Jesus invites us to trust that the love we fear is too good to be true is actually good enough to be true."

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Gungor - Dry Bones.

Greenbelt 2011: Dreams of Home

Four days spent with some of my best friends among some great art, wonderful music and stimulating seminars; Greenbelt 2011 was a little taste of heaven.

They say many of the best Greenbelt moments are unplanned - when you stumble upon something extraordinary or inspiring on your way to somewhere else - and that was true for me this year in discovering the multi-talented Canadian band, The Geese, and hearing the exquisite acoustic set by Lisa Gungor.

The Geese performed 'The Voyage of St Brendan' on the first night in their The Filid format; "a dynamic service of original music, liturgy, poetry, and images designed to facilitate contemplative prayer and openness to God." In line with their subtitle of "apophatic performance for aesthetic contemplation," the show dealt with the darkness and mystery of faith in a world of too much certainty. Later in the Festival, the band played a second set with each band member taking turns to lead the group, seamlessly trading instruments and roles between songs. In drawing on a range of folk stylings and in the changing leads, with each band member being a songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, they remind of the ultimate band, The Band. Mavis Staples also recalled The Band during her set, thanking them for involving the Staple Singers in The Last Waltz, after singing 'The Weight'.

Lisa Gungor performed together with her husband Michael, who leads the band Gungor (of which she is also part), but performed songs from her solo albums together with some Gungor material. Gungor had played mainstage earlier in the day, a set I hadn't gone to see. I hadn't planned to go to Lisa's set either but was very glad I did catch it and bought the current Gungor album as a result. The title track 'Beautiful Things' was what really attracted my attention:

"You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us"

Michael Gungor says, “This album is an expression of hope that God will make beautiful things out of the dust in our lives, that God will somehow use us, use our obedience and love, our feeble human effort, and build Himself a kingdom.”

For me, this was essentially the theme which seemed to emerge from the Festival as a whole. Rob Bell's mainstage talk was on the theme of being fully ourselves; owning who we are - creativity and failures - and throwing ourselves into doing the next right thing. His talk seemed primarily anecdote based and often felt like that which might be given by a motivational speaker. Nadia Bolz-Weber's sermon at the excellent Communion Service was, by contrast, grounded in both her text (John 1. 1-5, 9-14) and her personal experience of significant back pain. She attacked the botox culture of idealised bodies and argued that the incarnation leads to the acceptance and valuing of our human flesh.

Michael Mitton quoted John O'Donohue and Sister Stan saying similar things as part of his talk on 'The Homing Instinct':

"Home is where the heart is. It stands for the sure centre where individual life is shaped and from where it journeys forth. What it ultimately intends is that each of its individuals would develop the capacity to be at home in themselves." (O'Donoghue)

"Home is the place where we discover who we are, where we are coming from and where we are going to. It is where we are helped to establish our own identity." (Sister Stan)

Interestingly and surprisingly, Peter Rollins arrived at a similar place albeit without Mitton's confidence that home forms our real identity. By contrast he began on a tack that mirrored Philip Larkin's, "they fuck you up, your Mum and Dad." He argued that we are imprisoned by separation, alienation, and misrecognition. Separation, through the sense of loss that we feel at three months old as we begin to develop a sense of self. Alienation, as we respond to this sense of loss by trying to possess our primary care giver while being aware that we cannot do so. Misrecognition, as we take on the alterego that our parent(s) want to give to inhabit. These three, Rollins argued, form the walls of the prison in which we are trapped; a prison where we endlessly seek idols to fill the existential void that we think is fundamental to our existence. The Church is part of the problem is that by offering God as the solution to our angst, it delivers a purified version of this false life structure and makes God a product among other products.

Christianity in its purest form, he argued, is the alternative to this imprisonment, rather than being the answer to it. Jesus did not experience this sense of separation being without sin and without idolatry. In this, he shows what it is like to be fully human. On the cross he became sin - became the concrete manifestation of our idolatry - revealing the falsity of the three walls to our prison. In the resurrection, he becomes present in the act of our loving others. Love is not an object to be sought but is what enables existence and meaning. As we lay down our desire to be fulfilled and embrace those around us - accepting their brokenness and ours - we find God in community. The role of the Church, therefore, is not to say this is how you can be fulfilled but instead to be the place where we go to experience and accept ourselves as broken, as outsiders, so that we can then find God in the service we do. The truth of who we are is found in what we do.

Generational conflict also formed the theme of Ann Morisey's session on 'Borrowing from the future' in which she described the perfect storm approaching us as a result of the disadvantaging of younger generations and asked, as a baby boomer, how those who have 'had it good' could act imaginatively to lessen the resentment that will be felt by future generations. Luke Bretherton went back to the medieval period to suggest that differing approaches to current government policies derive from medieval debates about limits and freedom. Voluntarism prioritises freedom of choice for the individual and favours marketisation, while Communion emphasises our participation with God working in creation and favours mutualism and cooperatives.

Billy Bragg's Friday night headlining set unsuprisingly also dealt dealt with political issues and conflicts. I arrived at the set appropriately as he was singing 'The Battle of Barking,' covering the fight against the BNP in Barking and Dagenham to which I and others in the Chelmsford Diocese successfully contributed during the last General Election. He spoke movingly about being inspired by the Rock against Racism movement to become a political songwriter and in terms of his belief in people like us to stand up and be counted in the ongoing fight against discrimation.

The wonderful closing set by Mavis Staples was an object lesson in overcoming generational barriers. The 72 year old needed a rest and a cup of tea midway through her high energy set but either side of this instrumental break shared a lifetime's faith and commitment to Christ and civil rights through the blend of gospel, soul and social action which characterised the oeuvre of the Staple Singers from their links with Dr Martin Luther King to their Stax classics and beyond. The celebration and challenge of her set and songs was summed up in the closing 'Eyes on the Prize' from her classic album We'll Never Turn Back, which uses the story of Paul and Silas' miraculous release from prison as enouragement to hold on in our search for freedom now:

"Well, the only chains that we can stand
Are the chains of hand in hand
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Got my hand on the freedom plow
Wouldn't take nothing for my journey now
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!"

In between all this, I also: took part in the Photo Flash Swap; viewed the Angels of the North, Lumia Domestica, and Methodist Art Collection exhibitions; discovered the poetry of Padraig O'Tuama; listened to Phyllis Tickle on Emerging Church, Jari Moate on his Paradise Now novel, Meryl Doney on curating exhibitions, Mark Pierson on curating services, and Luke Walton and Nick Park on film; saw the Ikon performance 'based on a true story'; and saw stellar sets from Milton Jones, Rob Halligan, Gordon Gano and the Ryans, Duke Special, Beth Rowley, Kate Rusby and The Unthanks. 

The thoughts and reflections of some of my friends who were also there can be found here, here and here.

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The Geese - Cola Cans.

Greenbelt diary (4)

Sunday morning I was offsite as we attended the main service at St Giles in Uley, the village where we were staying. Revd. Ian Gardener, from Dursley Parish Church, led the service and preached an excellent sermon on having the courage to ask the difficult questions - very appropriate for a Greenbelt weekend! Ian was also interested to hear something of our experiences of ministry when we talked after the service.

Some of those difficult questions were being asked when I did get back to the Festival later in the day. There was a large crowd to hear Gene Robinson speak on sexuality and spirituality. His was a very considered contribution which highlighted the earthy ever-present nature of sexuality in the Hebrew scriptures and the Jewish tradition generally, most notably in the Song of Songs. He spoke about each of us as sexual beings and emphasised that the incarnation means that Jesus too was a sexual being. Jesus understood the need we have for a soul mate (i.e. 'the disciple that Jesus loved') and was criticised for his radical respect of women. At the heart of both the incarnation and a wholesome, holistic sexuality is the making of ourselves vulnerable with another. Sex, at its best, is a learning laboratory for vulnerability and a means of becoming good steward's of another person's vulnerability.

Robinson needs to be heard, particularly by his opponents, as he, and what he has come to stand for in the Anglican Communion, is grounded in an understanding of scripture and the Christian tradition. His opponents often characterise him as playing fast and loose with scripture and present their interpretation of scripture as being God's word on the issue of homosexuality but the reality is that on both sides of the debate what we are grappling with are our interpretations of scripture which are not definitive. Hearing Robinson unpack his understanding of scripture is to hear a man with a real and live spirituality.

Alistair McIntosh in this photo appears to have a minimal audience but we had all retreated to the stands by this stage because of the cold. McIntosh presented a dystopic vision of the future by arguing that our response to climate change is too little too late and that it is probable that there is now insufficient time as well as insufficient political will to make the changes that are required. He cited Abbé Pierre's understanding of the atonement as explanation of where we are in relation to climate change; seeing ourselves as addicts who have imprisoned ourselves. He spoke movingly about premature death of his baby and linked this to our need as human beings to look death in the face in order to look through death into life. We need the spirit of Jeremiah, he suggested, as we face the consequences of our consumerist addiction and seek, through community with others, our world and with God, to recover what it means to be truly human.

Margaret Barker, although a Biblical scholar as opposed to an activist, is deeply concerned to highlight the environmental implication of understanding the Temple theology which she argues underpins both the teaching of the Old Testament, Jesus and the Early Church. In her session she gave a brief synopsis of Temple theology. In her view, the structure of the tabernacle and Temple are based on the six days of creation revealing the different relationships in creation itself. Barker's ideas suggest that eternity is an ever-present reality, the kingdom, into which Jesus understood himself to be bringing us, through his death on the cross which completes the New Creation. Having come through the veil into the Holy of Holies, we are now angels and saints, in Barker's view.

This is the second time that I have heard Barker speak (click here for a post about the first occasion) and I keep waiting for more radical consequences for the way in which Jesus understood himself and his teaching from this model than actually seems to arrive in what Barker says. Perhaps I need to go beyond her introduction to Temple Theology in order to find this.

I then finally heard Rob Bell, along what must have been the biggest crowd that any speaker drew over the weekend, when he was interviewed at the Jerusalem stage by, I think, Martin Wroe. I described Bell to someone who hadn't heard him as intelligent on the scriptures, post-modern in his presentation, and evangelical in his theology. That seemed a reasonable description of his contribution to this conversation. What stayed most in the memory was his commitment to living a 'normal' life despite the popularity of his book, church, and film ministries and his summary of Christianity in 10 words or less (which was roughly): whatever tiny signs of hope you find are real.

Chris Dingle's argument that music stops time seemed to be borne out with the contrasting concerts which ended Sunday. The Greenbelt Festival Orchestra played a selection of works by Sir John Tavener, by intercutting the seven sections of The Protecting Veil with a selection of his choral works drawn mainly from The Veil Of The Temple. This was blissfully beautiful music in which the sense of time passing was suspended. On a more intellectual level, however, I do question the appropriateness of sectioning up a work like The Protecting Veil which, although moving through seven sections to its completion, features an almost continuous cello line that was broken by the decision not to perform the work as a continuous whole.

Duke Special was the polar opposite of the Tavener; gothic theatrical vaudeville with a compassionate core, a dramatic high energy set that was never less than engaging. His MySpace page describes him as "the fucked up ringmaster of a broken down circus, the lead dancer in a forgotten ballroom of ghosts, the loudest singer in a midnight choir and the first on his knees in an old time revival tent" and all of those facets were on show in this performance. "Everybody wants a little something good," is what he sang and that's exactly what we got.

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Duke Special - No Cover Up.

Greenbelt diary (3)

Alistair McGrath

Pete Rollins

I queued to hear Rob Bell first thing and didn't get in but did see Sam Norton who was also in the queue. From there I went to hear Chris Dingle speak on music and faith. He argued that all music is inherently sacred and provides a glimpse of eternity as we lose our sense of time while listening to exist for a time in the eternal now. Clearly this depends on the extent to which we lose ourselves in the music but I've certainly had that experience and once read an interesting interview with Van Morrison who, at that time, viewed his music and concerts as inducing that experience and taking the listener into the heart of silence.

The next item on my schedule was the Simone Weil celebration with Grahame Davies and Michael Symmons Roberts. This rapidly became less of a celebration and more of a critique as, while the contributors were challenged by Weil's attempts to eliminate the gap between how she lived and what she believed, they were also disturbed her martyr complex, jewish self-hate, and egotistical impersonality. She had a brilliant mind and it is fascinating to see someone so intellectually rigorous come to faith in Christ. She also wrote beautifully and this is perhaps the clue to the loss of celebration from the debate as, while we heard about Weil from the two contributors and from their writings about her, we never actually heard from Weil herself. Her writings were not read or quoted at any length, so we never heard her beautiful writing or the reasoning of her brilliant mind and, therefore, it was possible for us to focus on the issues that we have with her death at the expense of celebrating her work.

I hadn't intended to hear Alistair McGrath but, on arriving at the wrong venue, decided to stick around and appreciated his debunking of Richard Dawkins (although much of it I had already read in The Dawkins Delusion). A very structured speaker, he neatly summed up his argument in this talk as being that the New Atheism represents a sense of anger that religion is very much still here when, by the reckoning of secularists, it should have died out years ago. The arguments of Dawkins et al have actually made it easier to talk about God now than was the case ten years ago and we should have confidence to engage in the debate because of our understanding that Christianity was gifted to us by God and of the interest that there is i our culture to talk about God.

Mark Vernon would have been unlikely to agree with McGrath's sense of confidence. He is both a former priest and former atheist who as an agnostic is a tutor at 'The School of Life', a new organisation offering short courses on life, love, work, play, and politics. Vernon argued that agnosticism has always been a part of Christianity and offered seven tips for being a religious agnostic; the practices of questioning, love, knowledge, writing, negation, suspension, and wonder. However, if we accept that these practices (which acknowledge the existence of doubt in faith and of limits to our human knowing) have consistently been a part of Christianity, where is the need to practice them outside of Christianity itself. It seemed to me that in this session Vernon was essentially describing his return to a nuanced faith as opposed to any sort of journey away from it.

Vernon's session was followed by a fairly uproarious panel session on the theme of art, propaganda and evangelism. Uproarious, primarily because Billy Childish was playing the lovable anarchist to the hilt ably assisted by Angie Fadel. One felt for Adrienne Chaplin and Rita Brock gamely trying to make their serious academicly rigorous contributions in the face of Childish's faux 'I no nothing' stance coupled with occasional shafts of wit and profundity. There are times when the dryness of logic, reason and catagorisation are revealed and this seemed like it might be one of those occasions. A concensus of sorts was cobbled together around the notion that communicating a pre-conceived message or idea through art doesn't do justice to art and that, currently, conceptual artists are those most inclined to deliberately and cheerfully throw themselves into this faultline.

There was more iconclasm to be had as Pete Rollins took to the stage to argue that identification with Christ is dereliction, as we identify with one who, at the cross, is stripped of identity and meaning. 'Religionless Christianity' sees Christ resurrected in the community which bears his name as our identification with him enables us to escape the system that defines us and take responsibility for the dreaming of new possibilities. Rollins uses Slavoj Žižek and 'Death of God' theology to flesh out what Dietrich Bonhoeffer may have meant by 'religionless Christianity'. In doing so, he argued for a closing of the gap between how we live and what we believe that was at least as radical as that of Simone Weil.

Rollins argues that we often treat Church as a sop to the lack of radicality in our lives i.e. that hearing about the need for loving sacrifice becomes a subsitute for actually living sacrifical and loving lives. It is, of course, entirely possible that, for those of us present, listening to Rollins is a part of the same game giving us the frisson of radicality without the need to follow through but the challenge was to the real transformation of rebirth.

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Sex Pistols - Anarchy In The UK.