In all my writings it has been impossible for me to say one word about all that music has meant to me in my life. How then can I hope to be understood?
(Wittgenstein)
Author Archives: Elizaphanian
FEMME MENTALE
FEMME MENTALE / San Francisco neuropsychiatrist says differences between women’s and men’s brains are very real, and the sooner we all understand it, the better: “Thoughts about sex enter women’s brains once every couple of days; for men, thoughts about sex occur every minute. Women use 20,000 words per day; men use 7,000 per day.”
Fascinating. (HT Arts and Letters Daily)
Velveteen theology
(A wedding sermon from the weekend. The text of the Velveteen Rabbit can be found here.)
It is traditional for a preacher to base his remarks upon the reading from scripture – well that’s one tradition I’m going to ignore today – I would instead like to discuss with you the deep theological truths shared in the story of the velveteen rabbit, the velveteen rabbit who wants to be real, and in the end becomes a real rabbit, in a lovely image of the resurrection – that hope on which all other Christian hopes are grounded. Because this language of becoming real is very important in today’s culture, which is so profoundly unreal and has made an art of forgetting all that makes us into real people
To begin with the velveteen rabbit is a gift to a small child – and at the heart of the Christian understanding of the world is the idea that everything is a gift, for which we give thanks. Now there are some obvious ways in which that is true today, for today we give thanks that the world is such a place that two people have found someone to pledge their life to, to love – that the world allows this happiness. And it is important to give thanks for this, that two people have met someone else who is, in truth, God’s gift to them – a phrase that might be misunderstood. Normally if someone thinks that they are God’s gift to the world, it means that they’re arrogant and think they’re much more important than they really are. That’s not what I mean. I don’t mean that this other person is the answer to all your dreams – not in a shallow sense although in a profound sense I pray that that is true. I mean that this other person is from God to you, and so your marriage is a place where you meet God, the sacred, and in meeting God you in turn are made sacred, because it is the place where God’s grace can enter your life. This is why the church calls marriage holy matrimony for calling it holy means that God is present – officially it is a ‘sacrament’ – it is something sacred that makes you sacred – makes you sacred because of the love shared.
This is what the skin horse knows – the skin horse tells the rabbit that to become real he must be loved, and, because he has to tell the truth, because only the truth is real, he tells the rabbit that it can be painful – the sharp edges get removed – stitching might come undone… This is what happens in the married relationship – a softening needs to take place – sharp edges often rooted in our personal histories need to be worn down by love – it’s the truth underlying the phrase about ‘loving each other to bits’ – and as with the velveteen rabbit it is more true with each passing year, as I’m sure the long-married couples here can confirm – as the bits don’t work so well or lose their shape – and we should all ponder the truth that the skin horse speaks – that “it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept”.
It is when you face those sharp edges that you are brought up against the reality of the other person. You have to pause, take stock, and face this wondrous, marvellous, beautiful human being whom today you are committing your life to. And that applies especially when it isn’t as obvious as today that this person is wondrous, marvellous and beautiful. When their sharp edges do stick in, or when their fragile nature becomes clear. This is where the real work of love begins, it is where the loving work of being real begins, and it is here that marriage becomes sacred, for in learning to truly love one another, you begin to know what it means to share in the love of God – that love which is the most real thing in the world.
This is god’s gift in a marriage – there is a theological phrase which the church uses to talk about these things: ‘loved into being’ – it describes God’s call on each of us – leading us to life – we are called by love, we are formed from love, we are formed for love – we are each loved into being – and that is something at the heart of a real marriage, where you love each other into being – this other person with whom you are now bound together, and who shall be the most real thing you are exposed to.
N____ and N_____ – love each other to bits – love each other into being – and above all be real – don’t get distracted by the world, teaching you that the stick out handles and whizzy bits matter – which is, of course, how the skin horse describes nice cars and big houses and well paid jobs – don’t believe the world that these things are important, that they are real. They’re not. The only real thing in life, the only true thing in life, is love. Remember this day; remember the promises you have made; and remember to give thanks for this gift of a real person to become real with, until your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. These things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.
I believe in hell
In our gospel reading today, we have the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain. Jesus and three disciples, Peter James and John, ascend the mountain, rising up into the heavens both literally and metaphorically. And Jesus is transformed in their sight, so that his glory is revealed. He is joined by Moses and Elijah, representing the law and the prophets, whom Jesus is unifying in his own person. And you are free to imagine the heavenly choirs of angels singing, for this is a foretaste of the glory of the resurrection: Jesus is revealed in his true nature, the light shining in the darkness.
Today – paradoxically – I would like to begin by saying something about the darkness – for being exposed to the blinding light of Christ can be painful – imagine waking up, opening the curtains and having the sun shine straight in your face – if you’re not expecting it it dazzles, it hurts the eyes. Or even walking along the beach recently, in the middle of a summers day – brightness hurts the eyes. It’s why we use sunglasses. What I’m trying to get at is something which has been understood within the Christian tradition from the very beginning – that sometimes the light hurts, and sometimes people turn away from the light.
So now it is time for the Rector to come out – this has been growing on me for quite some time as my experience compels me to consider it – amd now I’m going public – I believe in hell! But this does need a little unpacking – two ways in particular:
The first way that I would like to unpack a little relates to our present choices, for the language of hell can rapidly become a spiritual burden. Sin is not the sun around which the Christian system circles, indeed, for the Christian, sin is always fighting a losing battle. More than that, a focus on sin tends to lead to self-obsession, and we presume too much responsibility onto our own shoulders – Jesus said ‘come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light’. We never earn our way to salvation – nothing undermines the truth of God’s grace – but grace enters in when we recognise the truth that Christ is Lord of heaven and earth – when we see him transfigured, as both human and divine – it is the light that sets us free, to concentrate on the promise of the kingdom, of life in all its fullness.
The second thing is that an exclusive concern with ‘eternal consequences’ is wrong, that is, thinking of hell as something which only kicks in after we die. Hell is part of life in the present as well as life to come – just as the kingdom is something that is breaking in upon us at this very moment, so too is hell, and some people endure hell in this life – I’m sure you can all think of examples. And it is this very present-day sense which I think Jesus was concerned with, as often as not. Let us not get too distracted with the literal language of fiery furnaces and torments etc. The Inuit have an understanding of hell that sees it as being incredibly cold; whereas middle eastern cultures saw it as incredibly hot – because in each case what was associated with hell was what destroyed life. It is not the imagery itself that is crucial so much as the underlying reality – that what we do matters, that it is of eternal significance – and that the consequences of a wrong life are indeed terrifying and horrible. Jesus uses the language of gehenna – the rubbish tip outside of Jerusalem – also place of child sacrifice – represents all that is opposite to God, opposite to kingdom.
The thing is that this language of hell offends against some modern sensibilities – the idea that we are all victims, so really nobody deserves to go to hell – in part that’s sentimental nonsense, in part it is simply a biblical insight – Ps 130 “If you, LORD, were to note what is done amiss, O Lord, who could stand?” – we cannot judge where people are, but it is possible to turn away from the light, to refuse the truth – and the consequences of that are painful, in this life and in the next. That is what I understand hell to be – and I don’t believe it is possible to believe in the kingdom without also believing in gehenna
For this language does describe the concrete outcomes in our lives – revelation 20.12: we will be ‘judged according to our deeds’. Again, this is not about earning salvation – the point is that salvation is something present and real and shareable within this life – it is not just pie in the sky when we die – it is the bearing of fruit that will last. The point about hell is that hell too is present and real and shareable in this life – and in the life to come – the righteous works of the faithful, which Revelation refers to, are the working out in them of the light of Christ, in whose image we are made; in other words, the process of sanctification – when we are transfigured, when we become the creatures of light that is God’s intention for us.
Because that is the positive side – today talked about the darkness, but only because of the light is that revealed – God is light and in him there is no darkness at all – the disciples have the windows opened and they see the glory of God revealed in the face of a human being. They are able to see this glory because they have fallen in love with Jesus. That is what makes them disciples – they love the Lord, they have responded to his call, their hearts are on fire with love for him. They see the truth, and they accept the truth.
That is our calling too. For the miracle of the transfiguration isn’t just that it reveals who Jesus is. The transfiguration is something which happens in us. We are the ones who are transfigured – if we see the face of Christ revealed then the face of Christ within our deepest selves wakes up and seeks expression too. If we accept the pain of turning towards the light – if we allow God’s searching light to reach in to our innermost hearts and unearth all the things which disfigure and wound our souls – then God will work with us – the grace of God will go before us and help us share in his glory. For remember what St Paul writes – the creation waits with eager longing for the glorious liberty of the children of God. That’s us. That’s you and me here and now. Glory is what we were made for, Glory is what we are called to, Glory is what we most want to be.
We do still have a choice, a freedom to choose between sleep and wakefulness. The world would like us to sleep – to continue to spend our days working all the hours God sends, to raise the money to pay the bills which keep the wheels in motion. To spend our time consuming – and that need not involve too much time spent in the shops. To not pay any attention to what comes for free in life. To pay attention to our wants and desires rather than our needs. That is to sleepwalk through this life, to not notice the things that are truly important, to fall into a rut of comfortable habits, safe from the bracing fresh air of reality. To stay within our tents. To not see the light.
This is not the life that God has planned for us. For God sent his Son in order that we might see the light, that we might start to share in the glory that is promised to us on a mountainside, on a hill far away. Then – and only then – we might start to take responsibility for this glorious world we have inherited, and work to make God’s glory manifest in the world. If we let God do his work, if we don’t try and capture it in forms that we feel comfortable with, if we hold fast to the light that has been revealed to us – then we shall see God, and we will truly be his children.
Eating and Drinking in John 6
alastair.adversaria » Eating and Drinking in John 6: “The evocative language of Scripture demands to be read with something other than the emaciated imagination of the scientific exegete. The consciousness that has been drenched in the rich symbolism of the liturgy will be attuned to such things; the consciousness that see symbols merely as secondary appendages to the clear literal message of the text will not. It will fail to appreciate the weight of allusions that constitute most of the text’s message….The Scriptures and the sacramental life of the Church are mutually interpretative. Abandon one and you will gradually lose the other.”
More good stuff from Alastair. I’m greatly enjoying his blog at the moment (a recent discovery) and this one.
Surely not
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You scored as Calvin. You are John Calvin. You have a Nestorian Christology and separate the Divinity and Humanity of Jesus. You believe only those who have faith are united to Christ, who is present spiritually, yet you call this “Real.”
Eucharistic theology |
Hmm. I’m pretty sure I’m not a Nestorian – I think this betrays some assumptions in the quiz that I disagree with. I’ve got a post to do on Corpus Christi which will explain – but not before the end of the month.
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(This reminded me of a sermon that I gave for the Transfiguration in 2004 – extract below)
One of the things which I try to do in my new life here is to walk along the beach to evening prayer if I have got sufficient time – normally about once a week I manage it. I love to be exposed to the estuary, to get some sense of an environment which isn’t wholly dominated by the human scale of roads and houses. And the view is always wonderful. Sometimes it is obviously wonderful, as with a spectacular sunset, but even when the skies are grey, and its cold, and the wind is biting, it is still providing a sense of something raw and uncivilised – it helps to root me in the created order.
One evening last week I was walking along the beach and I saw a small mound of ashes up ahead. It was clearly the remnant of a fire that someone had been burning on the beach, and there was a grey pile of ash about a foot high, with what appeared to be red ribbons on it. Of course, as I got closer I realised that the red ribbons were in fact gaps in the ash covering the fire, which was still burning. It was raining, and the ash and the rain had formed a grey crust over the fire. But through the gaps you could see bright red flames flickering.
As I continued walking, I wondered whether this was an image of our faith. The core of faith is red hot; it burns; it consumes; it is something which we fear because it changes us out of all recognition, and, as with the Israelites in the desert, it can mean that our peers see us as strange. To be touched by God is, in our culture, to be seen as mentally suspect. So our culture is like the rain falling on that bonfire – it combines with the burnt off residues that the living flames of faith leave behind, and they slowly coagulate into a crust which will suffocate the fire, preventing it from breathing the air which keeps it alive – which keeps the fire burning.
And sometimes we accept that crust. For being faithful, being religious, standing up and saying ‘Yes I am a Christian’ can raise awkward personal questions. It can mean exposing some of the deepest and most personal parts of our nature, things which are tender, which are our vulnerabilities. And so we keep that fire hidden under the grey crust of social conformity. We go along with the world, we let the rain fall on our passionate hearts, and we become grey ourselves. And our life and our church seem to drift and slowly decay, and we can’t really put our finger on why. And the world thinks that church doesn’t matter, because the people who go to church are just like everyone else.
In our gospel reading we hear of Christ being transfigured on the mountainside, of being radiant with light. And this is our calling, to climb the mountain of our faith, and have that transformed and transfigured Christ living in us, so that we radiate that light and heat out into the world. As St Paul puts it we are being transformed into Christ’s likeness with ever increasing glory. For glory is what we were made from, and glory is what we were made for. Glory is that red burning flame underneath the grey crust – it struggles, but it doesn’t go out.
Our common task is to ensure that our flames of faith are fed. It is hard enough to be a Christian without giving ourselves the extra burden of trying to do it all on our own. Let us take our burning branches and bring them together, so that we can build a glorious bonfire to God, a bright sign to this community that God is in our midst, holy, and awesome, and tremendous, and frightening, and life changing, and holy, and glorious. And may we all be changed from glory to glory, in the name of the transfigured one, who will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. Amen.
Never before have I thought of myself as sheltered
The Observer | Review | Harry Potter and the mystery of an academic obsession: “They just seem like perfectly nice, educated, middle-class women. Who write homoerotic fiction about wizards.”
And who will have won?
She dreams of nineteen sixty-nine
Before the soldiers came
The life was cheap on bread and wine
And sharing meant no shame
She is awakened by the screams
Of rockets flying from nearby
And scared she clings onto her dreams
To beat the fear that she might die
And who will have won
When the soldiers have gone
From the lebanon
The lebanon
Before he leaves the camp he stops
He scans the world outside
And where there used to be some shops
Is where the snipers sometimes hide
He left his home the week before
He thought hed be like the police
But now he finds he is at war
Werent we supposed to keep the peace
And who will have won
When the soldiers have gone
From the lebanon
The lebanon
The lebanon
From the lebanon
I must be dreaming
It cant be true
I must be dreaming
It cant be true
And who will have won
When the soldiers have gone?
From the lebanon
The lebanon
The lebanon
From the lebanon
(The Human League)
One of my favourite songs from my teenage years – I even still possess the 12″ version. Sadly still appropriate. I’m listening to it a lot.
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