Strange week

The last week has been a bit … er … busy. But, that didn't stop the questions flying around my head.

1. How does the press manage (a) to have the brass neck and (b) not to laugh when telling the rest of us that they alone should be accountable only to themselves? Everyone else must be regulated, reported on, “held to account”, but the press must be completely “free” – to shred people's lives with impunity. Leveson's recommendations on statutory underpinning were made precisely because no one trusts bodies that want to run their own regulation. The point of regulation is that it should be independent – and self-selecting bodies don't fit that bill.

2. Would Leveson create a Soviet scenario? Don't be ridiculous. Comparisons with Pravda are utter nonsense and the newspaper industry knows it. If any of these guys had ever read Pravda, they would know that like is not being compared with like.

3. Will the Archbishop of Canterbury ring the changes in and for the Church of England? Who knows? He needs the space to recover from the last couple of days and then get down to business. Tough call, but he will be backed by his bishops as the brown stuff is poured on him.

4. Whose agenda is running when the BBC report his sermon at Canterbury Cathedral yesterday and remark at the beginning that he didn't mention women bishops or gay marriage and conclude by saying that he won't be able to escape these issues for long? Remarkable! If he had referred to these issues, the church would have been accused of being obsessed with gender and sex; he didn't, so we are accused of running away from them for a day. It isn't the church that is obsessed with these issues to the exclusion of all else, is it?

5. Why did I sell my best fantasy league players and get stuck with the ones that get injured or earn me no points? Never, ever, take me on as a football manager.

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Five random happenings

1. Kenny Ball died today. We got our first stereo before I was a teenager. One of the first records we got was a Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen album. I was just starting to play the trumpet and the two I tried to imitate (I failed) were Louis Armstrong and Kenny Ball. His jazz was fun and the you could never get bored with the songs. I eventually played in a couple of jazz groups as a teenager – I was rubbish, but I never lost the love of trad jazz.

2. Hugo Chavez is to be embalmed and put on display. I just think there is something weird about this. Is it a corporate inability to comprehend the finality of death? Or something more ghoulish? One of my great regrets is that I never got the chance (I wasn't allowed) to visit the Lenin Mausoleum in Moscow's Red Square – I worked professionally as a Russian linguist and was intrigued by Soviet history. But, it was to glimpse mortality and to note how fragile even the most powerful human beings are: Lenin stuffed. Chavez deserves better.

3. The programme for the 19th Bradford International Film Festival has been published. It looks brilliant. Running from 11-21 April, it makes Cannes look lightweight. Bradford is a very surprising place. Not all about curry and the relics of a textile industry, but inspiring people with cultural vision.

4. The cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church have arrived in Rome for the conclave that will conclude with the presentation of the new pope. Not a role many people would covet, surely? The rumours around and charges levelled at the church in the wake of Cardinal O'Brien's resignation and the unending abuse scandals must make being the top man something you would only wish on someone you didn't like. It will take remarkable courage, intellect and integrity to argue confidently for the credibility of both church and faith – but it might also commend a refreshed humility, rooted in a theology that speaks less of authority and more of mutuality.

5. The Psalmists of the Old Testament constantly bemoan the fact that the wicked always seem to prosper while the just simply suffer. Then the prophets decry a society in which justice can be bought and the poor be trampled in the dirt – and all this be seen as 'normal' or 'acceptable'. And then comes Silvio Berlusconi.

Good grief…

 

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Hannover Conference address

Here is the basic text of my final address to the Kirchehochzwei conference in Hannover which finished this afternoon. Nothing new or earth-shattering, but the joke worked…

Kirche hoch zwei, Hannover, 16 Februar 2013

Wir haben zwei oder drei Tage miteinander erlebt, vieles gehört und gesehen, und jetzt kommen wir zum Schluss. Wir haben darüber nachgedacht, was es eigentlich bedeutet, Kirche zu sein und Kirche zu tun. Vielleicht sind wir ermutigt; vielleicht sind wir enttäuscht. Und ich? Ich bin ermutigt und enttäuscht: ermutigt, weil es so viele guten neuen und alten Initiativen in den deutschen Kirchen gibt; enttäuscht, weil Liverpool am Donnerstag 2-0 gegen Zenit St Petersburg verloren hat. Gibt es wirklich ein Gott?

Also, lass mich dieses Sendungswort mit einer kurzen Geschichte anfangen.

Drei Männer wanderten in den Bergen. Sie kämpften sich ihren Weg durch die Bäume und versuchten, ihre Hütte vor dem Einbruch der Nacht zu erreichen. Plötzlich stießen sie auf einen reißenden Fluss. Das Wasser lief den Berg hinunter und die Männer hatten keine Ahnung, wie sie den Fluß überqueren sollten. Aber es gab keine Alternative – sie mussten unbedingt diesen Fluss überqueren, aber sie wussten nicht wie.

Der erste Mann betete: „Gott, gib mir bitte die Kraft, um diesen Fluss zu überqueren.“ Pouff! Plötzlich wurden seine Arme größer; seine Brust erweiterte sich und seine Beine wurden stärker. Dann warf er sich in den Fluss hinein und schwamm auf das gegenüberliegende Ufer. Er brauchte zwei Stunden. Ein paar Mal ist er untergegangen und wäre fast ertrunken. Aber, endlich, ist es ihm gelungen, das Ufer zu erreichen, und er schleppte sich total erschöpft an Land.

Der zweite Mann beobachtete den ersten Mann und er betete: „Gott, gib mir bitte die Kraft und die Mittel, um diesen Fluss zu überqueren.“ Pouff! Plötzlich wurden seine Arme größer; seine Brust erweiterte sich und seine Beine wurden stärker; und ein Kanu tauchte vor ihm auf. Er paddelte eine lange Stunde durch das Wasser und schließlich, total erschöpft und nachdem er zweimal gekentert war, schleppte er sich aus dem Wasser und auf das gegenüberliegende Ufer.

Der dritte Mann hatte die zwei Freunde beobachtet und er betete: „Gott, gib mir bitte die Kraft, die Mittel… und die Intelligenz, um diesen Fluss zu überqueren.“ Pouff! Plötzlich verwandelte ihn Gott in eine Frau! Er schaute in seine Handtasche, holte eine Karte heraus, ging hundert Meter das Ufer entlang, und überquerte die Brücke.

Heutzutage müssen wir neue Sicht- und Denkweisen im Blick auf die Kirche suchen, damit wir nicht die Realitäten, die Gelegenheiten und die Herausforderungen verpassen, vor denen wir stehen. Wie die Chinesen sagen: “Wir leben in einer interessanten Zeit.”

Aber die Herausforderungen und Gelegenheiten, vor denen wir als Kirche stehen, sind nicht neu. Vom Anfang an hat die Kirche lernen müssen, wie man Kirche kreativ schafft. Vom Anfang an hatten die Nachfolger Jesu die Verantwortung auf sich nehmen müssen, der Kirche Form zu geben und immer wieder frische Ausdrucksformen zu entwickeln. Diese Situation, in der wir heute sitzen, ist nicht neu. Und, wenn wir das Kirchenschiff durch die Stürmen steuern wollen, dann müssen wir bereit sein, die Fahrt zu genießen.

Gestern sagte Thomas Söding in einem Werkstatt: “Mithin ist es ein Privileg, mit im Boot zu sein, aber keine Garantie vor Stürmen und Schiffbruch, Angst und Schrecken.” Und die Wahrheit? In diesem Schiff sind wir miteinander zusammengebunden, ob wir einander mögen oder nicht. Und, während wir versuchen einander besser zu lieben, schläft Jesus seelenruhig unten im Boot. Seid ermutigt!

Wenn wir richtig und ernsthaft andere Christen lieben wollen, dann müssen wir auch die Kirche echt und ehrlich lieben – auch wenn uns eine solche Liebe wirklich Weh tut.

Von 1992 bis 2000 war ich Pastor in einem kleinen Dorf in der Mitte von England – Leicestershire. Die Fundamente des Kirchengebäudes sind angelsächsisch und es gibt neben der Kirche ein Kreuz, welches 1200 Jahre alt ist. Innerhalb des Kirchengebäudes steht ein Taufbecken, das normannisch ist – das heißt, tausend Jahre alt. Jeden Sonntag tranken wir aus einem Kelch, der aus der Zeit der ersten Königin Elisabeth stammt – das heißt 500 Jahre alt. Und in der Nähe der Nordtür stand an der Wand eine Tafel, auf der die Namen der Pfarrer von Rothley seit dem Jahre (ungefähr) 1060 geschrieben waren. Und das heißt 'Perspektiv'!

Wir sind immer noch da. Durch Kriege und Plagen, Reformation und Invasionen (mehrmals durch die Franzosen, die Dänen und die Deutschen!), wir sind da. Wir beten und singen und klagen und jammern und feiern und weinen und lachen und so weiter. Familien sind durch Tod und. Ehetrennung, Geburt und Arbeit, aufgebaut und zerstört – aber die christliche Gemeinde betet noch und versucht immer in die Welt durch die Augen Gottes hinauszuschauen.Die Welt ändert sich ständig, aber das Lied der Gnade und der Hoffnung kann nicht gestillt werden. Ich liebe auch die unfrische Kirche.

Aber die Welt hat sich geändert. Und meiner Meinung nach, wie ich schon an dieser Konferenz gesagt habe, ist es sinnlos und eine verpasste Chance, nur darüber zu klagen. Wenn die Kirche ihren Auftrag erfüllen will, muss sie die Sprachen der heutigen Welt erstens verstehen und zweitens sprechen können. Wir müssen uns daran erinnern, dass die biblische Geschichte uns zeigt, dass Gott sein Volk dazu beruft, sein Leib in der konkreten Welt von heute zu sein, und so zu leben, dass die Menschen, die mit der christlichen Gemeinde in Kontakt kommen, etwas von dem Christus erfahren, von dem wir in den Evangelien lesen.

Ich bin überzeugt, dass es Aufgabe der Kirche ist, einen Raum zu schaffen, in dem Menschen herausfinden können, dass Gott sie schon gefunden hat – auf Englisch klingt das: 'to create the space in which people can find that they have already been found by God'. Dazu müssen wir dort anfangen, wo die Menschen sind – und wir müssen eine Sprache sprechen, die die Menschen tatsächlich verstehen. Wir Christen müssen lernen, klar, einfach und mit Vorstellungskraft zu sprechen – Bilder mit Worten zu malen, damit Menschen neugierig auf Gott und die Welt werden. Und meines Erachtens ist das eine spannende Aufgabe, die wir genießen sollten.

Die Kirche steht vor einer großen Herausforderung: Wie können wir im alltäglichen Leben einer Kirchengemeinde den Raum schaffen, wo Menschen zu Christus kommen, als Christen wachsen, und als verantwortungsvolle Christen in und durch die Gemeinde leben können? Wenn so viele Menschen überhaupt keine Ahnung mehr vom christlichen Glauben haben,wie fangen wir eigentlich an, sie zu erreichen? Und welche Formen von Kirche oder Gottesdienst können wir schaffen, um solche Menschen in den Raum einzubringen, wo sie Gott und seine Kinder besser kennen lernen werden? Es ist von der Bibel klar, dass wir dort anfangen müssen, wo die Menschen sind – und nicht wo wir denken, dass sie sein sollten.

Es interessiert mich sehr, dass Jesus seine Freunde nicht in der Kirche zum ersten Mal traf, sondern dort, wo sie arbeiteten: auf dem Strand. Und gleich am Anfang des Evangeliums lädt sie Jesus ein, mit ihm spazieren zu gehen. Er sagte ihnen nicht, wo sie hingingen. Er sagte ihnen nicht, wer sonst mitkommen würde. Aber er machte klar, dass jeder Nachfolger etwas hinter sich verlassen müsste, um mit ihm zu gehen und gemeinsam etwas Neues zu entdecken.

Das heißt, die Nachfolger Jesu müssen immer neugierig sein und eine große und kreative Vorstellungskraft entwickeln.

Und so, gleich am Ende des Matthäusevangeliums sehen wir klar, dass sich die ersten Freunde von Jesus vor einer großen Herausforderung standen: nicht auf dem Berg zu bleiben, wo Jesus einmal war, sondern wieder den Berg hinunterzugehen, um durch eine veränderte Welt zu wandeln und auf sich eine neue Verantwortung aufzunehmen: zu entscheiden, was es bedeutet, als Leib Christi in der heutigen Welt zu leben.

Das heißt, die Kirche soll nichts anderes tun, als weiterhin der Leib Christi zu sein und das Evangelium weiterzusagen und damit zu erfüllen, was Jesus in Markus 1:14-15 schon getan hat, nämlich: die Menschen einzuladen, Gott zu sehen und Gott anders zu sehen – und sie dann eine Gemeinschaft von Menschen vorzustellen, die bereits gewagt haben, dies von sich aus zu tun, und die nun verpflichtet sind, es anderen zu ermöglichen, zu sehen, wie Gott ist und an wessen Seite man ihn finden kann. Anders gesagt: die Aufgabe der christlichen Kirche ist es, eine Gemeinschaft zu sein, in der sich die kreative Barmherzigkeit und Gnade, die versöhnende und heilende Liebe Gottes finden lässt. Und das sollten die Leute durch die Kirche erleben.

Ja, es gibt immer Beispiele von Christen, die in einer Weise reden und handeln, die Jesus' Prioritäten, wie wir sie in den Evangelien finden, nicht widerspiegelt. Man muss nicht allzu fest an der Oberfläche kratzen, um Unbeständigkeiten, Widersprüche, Schwächen und Fehler bei Christen wie mir oder in unseren Kirchen zu finden. Doch das sollte nicht überraschen. Schließlich erhebt die Kirche nicht den Anspruch, der Standort absolut beständigen Verhaltens und vollkommener Verwaltung der 'Wahrheit' zu sein. Auch wir sind nur Menschen, immer noch am Lernen, unser Verständnis ist immer noch unvollständig, und wir schaffen es immer noch, es tausend Mal im jeden Tag falsch zu machen. Aber die 'Linse' unserer Wahrnehmung wird immer noch neu geformt, und unsere Reise mit Jesus und seinen Freunden geht weiter.

Eines der bemerkenswerten Dinge an den Evangelien ist die Art, wie sie Jesus' Jünger beschreiben. Es waren ganz gewöhnliche Leute. Während sie mit Jesus reisten, stellten sie fest, dass sie anfingen, einen Blick auf Gottes Gegenwart unter ihnen zu erhaschen, wie Jesus es angedeutet hatte. Die Veränderung der theologischen Weltanschauung war radikal und brauchte Zeit. Doch Jesus verachtete seine Freunde nie wegen ihrer beschränkten Wahrnehmung, ihrer moralischen Verfehlungen oder ihres aufgeblähten Selbstverständnisses.

Stattdessen gab er ihnen den Raum und die Zeit, zu schauen und zu beobachten und zu sehen und zu berühren und zu denken und ihre Dummheiten auszusprechen – alles, ohne aus der Gruppe ausgestoßen zu werden. Ihre internen Streitigkeiten und Machtkämpfe wurden zwar angesprochen, wenn sie entbrannten, doch Jesus schien es nicht eilig zu haben, sofort Vollkommenheit von ihnen zu verlangen.

Also hier werden wir das Leben der Kirche finden – hier in alten oder frischen Ausdrücken von Kirche, wo es Menschen gibt, die zuerst Jünger von Jesus sind; Menschen, die sich bewusst von Jesus haben rufen lassen; Menschen, die am Auftrag der Kirche in der Welt beteiligt sind; Menschen, die bewusst den Leib Jesu Christi wachsen lassen und dazu beitragen, die Kirche aufzubauen, die Gaben der Christen zu identifizieren und zu entwickeln, und neue Christen zur Neugeburt zu bringen.

Ich möchte mit einer kurzen Geschichte zum Schluss kommen, um dich zu ermutigen.

Mike Yaconelli war Jugendarbeiter in Amerika bis zu seinem frühen Tod bei einem Autounfall vor einigen Jahren. Er hat ein Buch mit dem Titel Messy Spirituality veröffentlicht – auf Deutsch heißt es: Gott liebt Chaoten. Yaconelli war auch Pastor einer freien Baptistengemeinde und hatte immer Angst davor, dass er nicht gut genug sei, Pastor zu sein. In seinem Buch beschreibt er, wie jeder andere Pastor ein gutes, ordentliches und theologisch konsequentes Leben führt. Im Vergleich mit den anderen war Mike Yaconelli eine Katastrophe. Einmal hat er gesagt: “Ich bin Pastor einer wachsender Kirche – aber sie wächst immer kleiner.”

In diesem Buch erzählt Yaconelli einen Traum, den er nachts immer wieder hatte. In diesem Traum sitzt er in einem Zimmer mit vielen anderen Menschen. Plötzlich kommt Jesus herein. Jesus spricht eine Zeit lang mit ihnen, dann steht er auf, dreht sich um, deutet mit dem Finger auf ihn und sagt laut und klar – mit den Augen auf ihn gerichtet: “Komm, folge mir nach!” Yaconelli kann es kaum Glauben: Jesus hat ihn auserwählt. Er steht auf, bereit, Jesus überall hin in der Welt zu folgen. Dann dreht sich Jesus um und sagt: “Err… nein… es tut mir leid… ich meinte den Kerl hinter dir.”

Jesus macht das nie!

Wir sind dazu berufen, immer auf den wandelnden Gott zu vertrauen, mit Jesus zu gehen, nie zu fürchten, immer neugierig zu sein, und Kirche zu formen. Seid mutig!

Aber die elf Jünger gingen nach Galiläa auf den Berg, wohin Jesus sie beschieden hatte. Und als sie ihn sahen, fielen sie vor ihm nieder; einige aber zweifelten. Und Jesus trat herzu und sprach zu ihnen: Mir ist gegeben alle Gewalt im Himmel und auf Erden. Darum gehet hin und machet zu Jüngern alle Völker: Taufet sie auf den Namen des Vaters und des Sohnes und des Heiligen Geistes und lehret sie halten alles, was ich euch befohlen habe. Und siehe, ich bin bei euch alle Tage bis an der Welt Ende.

Und Jesus blieb stehen und sprach: Ruft ihn her! Und sie riefen den Blinden und sprachen zu ihm: Sei getrost, steh auf! Er ruft dich!

 

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Changing the guard

Here in Hannover the talk is all about change. The conference Kirchehochzwei not only has nearly 1200 people attending today and tomorrow, but also is a feat of imaginative organisation. I seem to do a lot of stuff in Germany, but this one has been hugely challenging, stimulating and educative.

The great thing about being out of one's own culture is that you get to look through the lens of another – and then look differently at your own. Perspective changes and new insights are gained – a bit like changing the camera angle or lighting on a film or stage set.

The conference is aimed at opening up German Christians' thinking about how to address necessary change in how the church shapes itself in a changing world. Learning from some of the Fresh Expressions experiences in England, they now want to work out what this might look like in a German context that is simultaneously both similar and very different. Yesterday I saw three superb presentations about initiatives in Austria, Aachen and Erfurt: two of these were Roman Catholic. And that into to the really interesting thing about the nature of the conference itself: it is put on by both the Evangelical (Protestant) and Roman Catholic Churches in Niedersachsen, sponsored by both the bishops.

What is interesting about this is that the ecumenical nature of the event both raises and lowers the guard as critical questions are asked from every possible direction in the exploration of how the 'church' is to change and what changes are legitimate. In my various inputs I have been stressing the importance of 'order' in new forms of church – a bit like the clarity and creativity made possible by painting white lines on a tennis court, without which no game is possible, no creative play is feasible and all you can do is bang a ball around.

Plenary sessions this morning gave way this afternoon to workshops and seminars – hundreds of them. It is amazing to watch it happen. I had been asked to attend a theological workshop on so-called 'liquid church' at which Thomas Söding, a Roman Catholic academic New Testament scholar, presented a brilliant paper in which he took three images from the New Testament of crises in boats. The opening paragraph of his notes (my quick translation) says:

The New Testament is not a model kit for the ship that is the church; rather, it is a log book that establishes the story of its early journeys, a fuel station which fills and empowers it, and a GPS satnav by which it can navigate.

The concluding observations in his notes state:

[This conference] is St Peter's little ship on a great journey. Without a general overhaul and a new crew it will go down like the Titanic. But which renovations are needed and which crew selection is the right one, if the ship is not to sail under the wrong flag and is safely to reach its destination with its freight intact, is the master question.

Not a bad question to pose at the end of the week in which Pope Benedict announced his retirement. And the has been a lot of questioning here about what might happen next in the Roman Catholic Church under a new Pope.

Following questions and discussion from the audience, I was asked to make a few observations on the question of how to change the church in ways that are creative, yet consistent with the New Testament. In reply I noted how one contributor yesterday had said of his 'fresh expression of church' in Aachen, “For me it is an experiment,” and added that in my view “the church itself is an experiment”. Picking up on Tom Wright's notion of biblical history as a five-act play in which we are still writing he fifth act, I suggested that however creatively and innovatively we develop the plot, it must always be consistent with what has gone on in the first four acts. Furthermore (and clearly mixing my metaphors here), although we might find ourselves responsible for steering a new and uncharted course in today's sea, we must not lose sight of what it actually means to be a 'ship' in the first place.

There was loads more. It was interesting later to listen to a moderated conversation between the Protestant Bishop Ralf Meister and his Roman Catholic counterpart Norbert Trelle. They didn't duck any questions either – including the 'challenge' to both churches of how to 'celebrate' in Wittenberg in 2017, the 500th anniversary of the start of the Reformation.

In all this we have witnessed people changing the guards that protect them from discomfort or challenge. It is a very good thing.

Anyway, that's enough. I am giving the final address in the final plenary session tomorrow afternoon. I have been asked to inspire and encourage the thousand people there. No pressure there, then.

Then I go for dinner with friends before preaching (this time in English, fortunately) at an international service in Hannover on Sunday before catching a flight back to Bradford via Amsterdam.

 

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Women coming

The latest moves by the Church of England in the long-running drive to open the episcopate to women as well as men will, I hope, be encouraging. The process is vital and cannot be rushed; but, this is being progressed as swiftly as possible.

The statement following yesterday's meeting of the House of Bishops as Lambeth Palace is here.

The consultation document published today is here.

 

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Imagination and denial: contemplating change

Being in a place of scarcity and threat compels us to look through different eyes at our own situation and life. Gaining a first-hand acquaintance with the church in Sudan last week (as I had previously done for eleven years with the church in Zimbabwe) shone a different light not only on who we are as an Anglican church in West Yorkshire, but also how we are in our attempt to fulfil our unique calling.

Add to that a reading of Walter Brueggemann's excellent book The Practice of Prophetic Imagination and the choice before the Dioceses of Bradford, Ripon & Leeds and Wakefield takes on a different (and more radical) complexion. On 2 March the three diocesan synods will vote on whether or not to choose dissolution and the creation of a single new diocese for West Yorkshire and the Dales. During the last two years we have lived with uncertainty as, first, the initial proposals were debated; second, the amended draft scheme was debated; then, third, the final scheme was presented for acceptance or rejection.

So far, no problem. The whole world lives with uncertainty and sometimes the Church needs to grow up and get real when faced with challenges or bewilderments. Uncertainty is one of the facts of life and we, of all people, should learn to live confidently with it. However, how the process has been handled during the last two years raises some important questions that precede the detailed matters of the scheme's content: they have to do with identity, vocation and vision.

Identity

Who is the church? The church must take as its narrative the sweep of the biblical story, read in the light of its experience throughout history. What we learn is that the church's institutional shape must serve its vocation and not have its vocation shaped by its inherited institutional form(s). If the church aims “to create the space in which people can find that they have been found by God” – and to do this by learning the (constantly changing, moving) 'languages' of a culture that never stands still, then it must constantly be willing to sacrifice its inheritance for the sake of its mission. Indeed, this was the motivation behind the creation by the Church of England of new dioceses in the twentieth century, aimed at re-shaping the church to serve new urban communities that hadn't really been there a century before.

The proposals for West Yorkshire do the same for the twenty first century, both responding to the changes in demography, culture and communications and anticipating further changes in the century to come. It would be interesting to see what arguments were used at the time when Wakefield and Bradford were established as separate dioceses by those who thought the change would be negative, retrograde, trendy, unnecessary, unmissional, and so on. I guess they would represent a re-run of some of the 'denial rhetoric' that is being articulated now.

However, these proposals invite the Church of England in West Yorkshire (and beyond – because this could still be put to the General Synod for acceptance even if one of our dioceses votes against it on 2 March), for the first time in several generations, to do what the Church of England used to do in re-shaping itself for the sake of its declared mission.

Vocation

Who is the church for? The church's vocation is a tough one: it essentially asks us to be 'prophetic', not only in word, but in action. By 'prophetic' I mean offering the world the possibility of a different way of seeing and being… even while the old world continues and appears dominant. This is the invitation of the Old Testament prophets: to see a new world whilst the current reality was exile under a powerful empire. Not only do the prophets speak truth about now, but they use language to fire a daring imagination about a different future… a future rooted in hope. At the beginning of his public ministry Jesus poses the same challenge: you can't see how the pure God can come among you again while the unholy pagans (the Roman occupying forces) remain in your land, compromising your worship and blaspheming your faith; but, dare you 'repent' (literally, 'change your mind' – see through a re-ground lens) and begin to live now as if God were present, contaminating the unholy with grace rather than being afraid of being contaminated by the bad stuff? (This is what is going on in Mark's summary of Jesus's message, mission and ministry in Mark 1:14-15.)

Walter Brueggemann draws attention to this when he writes:

… prophetic preaching is the enactment of hope in contexts of loss and grief. It is the declaration that God can enact a novum in our very midst, even when we judge that to be impossible. (P.110)

More suggestively, perhaps, he goes on (p.130f) to expose the discrepancy between what we Christians say and sing, and how we then handle prophetic demands:

There is a tacit yearning in the church for the prophetic. And so the church sings about the prophetic with some vigor… The church sings that way with hope, all the while, in practice, mostly resisting anything prophetic and really wanting no more than a status quo pastorate or priesthood, mostly wanting apostolic faith that “tells” but does not summon too much.

In other words, we don't walk the talk. In relation to West Yorkshire all parties have agreed, articulated and rehearsed the view that change needs to happen and that we cannot just continue blindly into the future. Yet, when specific change is proposed – based on thorough consultation, research and testing alternatives – some of us resist even using our imagination to see how 'a different way' might potentially look, were we to have some courage as well as convictions. What lies before us is not simply a choice about specific proposals for a single diocese, but also (and perhaps more importantly) a challenge to the integrity of our vocation as a church. Given that so-called 'alternatives' have come too late in the process, been simple reactions to specific points that, once addressed and answered (see the 'threat' to funding three cathedrals, for example), are held onto regardless or quietly dismissed in the search for another objection.

Vision

I understand what lies behind the fear of change, loss and uncertainty. (After all, if this scheme goes through, I become the first diocesan bishop to be made redundant – a prospect I don't relish, but for which I am prepared.) But, this is what the church is called to model in every generation – for our rootedness is fundamentally not in our institutional shape (as if this were directly established by God in creation), but in our courageous and prophetic faithfulness to the mission God has entrusted to us.

I will come back again to some of the specifics involved in the proposals, but for now the big question has to do with something deeper, more integral to our identity and vocation, more theological and attitudinal. A new single diocese would bring huge challenges and opportunities. There will be errors, mismanagements and failures. Risk will be felt acutely. Structures – existing or potential – achieve nothing of themselves; all depends on how people lead, work them and creatively attend to their potential as media (parameters) for enabling the vocation to be fulfilled.

I think I am not alone in Bradford, Wakefield and Ripon & Leeds in wanting our decision to be driven by courage, vision, creative commitment, vocational conviction and missional invitation. We must not fail the church and the wider world by being driven by denial, fear, resentment, protectionism or self-interest.

More anon.

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Sunshine (Sudan 1)

We arrived in Khartoum an hour late and got to the guesthouse where we are staying at 5am. So Sunday was spent asleep until we were collected and taken to the Cathedral where I was preaching at the 6pm Communion service.

There were probably 40 people in the Cathedral. Over dinner with the Bishop of Khartoum later, he explained how, following the separation of Southern Sudan from Sudan in 2011, the expulsion of people of Southern Sudanese origin has impacted not only on the church, but also on the country as a whole. I was a little surprised to discover that even people in their fifties and sixties, born and bred in the north, have also been expelled because their parents or grandparents originally came from the South.

The decision to push southerners out seems to have arisen from pique that they voted for separation and declined unity with the North. “You have your own country now” might be an understandable emotional response, but it won't help an economy thrive. The displacement is huge and the longer-term consequences as yet unknown.

First impressions of Sudan are limited. It is hot – not a bad thing to get some sun a couple of days after my doctor told me my vitamin D count is very low – and the pace is slow. The only other African country I can claim any familiarity with is Zimbabwe – so, now I understand the superficial difference between African Africa and Arabic Africa.

Today we will be visiting a Christian training institute and having lunch with the Principal. The temperature is due to reach 31C today and 38C later in the week. And we are missing the snow in England!

And below is the view from where I am sitting. Yes, I should have sat somewhere else…

 

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Almost there…

One of the sad bits of being a bishop is that, not being part of any particular parish community, you don’t follow the ‘story’ of Christmas (or Easter or anything else) through together. It means you have to create your own consistency and not succumb to a fragmentary ‘living with the story’, picking it up only through various one-off engagements in parishes and institutions.

This year I have heard some great stories from parishes of how they are ‘living the story’, opening up the shape of Christmas in such a way that the familiar becomes refreshed and the mystery deepened. (One church had a stable built around and over the Communion table with the nativity scene built under and into it – and the Eucharist is celebrated from within the stable!)

So, we are now almost there. I am thinking through my sermons for Christmas Eve Midnight Communion at St Barnabas, Heaton, (about fifty metres from my house) and Christmas morning at Bradford Cathedral. Unlike many of my episcopal colleagues (who are clearly more focused than I am ), I find it hard to script something ahead of seeing the congregation. I know where I am going with each sermon and I have done the preparation, but I don’t want to be pinned down to a script that might be not quite right (in terms of language, illustration or content) in the particular circumstances of each service. I prefer to engage people where they are rather than simply deliver something I wrote days ago in a study.

So, I will post something once they are done.

However, my quick thought today is simply that Christmas feels like the end of a journey when, in fact, it is simply the start of another. Mary and Joseph leave home, have a baby, then set out into a threatening unknown (where they eventually become asylum seekers in a place – Egypt – that represents to their people only threat and oppression). Shepherds leave their work, have a surprising encounter in the town, then (presumably) go back to work? Magi set out on the basis of their astrology, find their goal in a surprising place, then find themselves regarded as ‘problems’ as they head away.

All these find that the end of their journey drives them off in a new direction – and not one that is necessarily comfortable.

We are almost there… but will discover that the journey doesn’t end with some sort of ‘fulfilment’ that closes everything down. Drawn by curiosity and a vision for the future (rather than being simply driven by a memory of the past), they go off in new directions, changed by their experience and challenged by being at the centre of God’s activity in and for the wider world.

So, I am for curiosity, adventure and walking into the unknown. It is what we do anyway – as none of us knows what tomorrow might bring. And it compels us once again to opt into all the world can throw at us and not exempt ourselves from it.

Christmas speaks not of escapism, but of willing engagement. Whatever the eventual cost. Or, to look at it through the eyes of a poet, as Bruce Cockburn put it:

Like a stone on the surface of a still river, driving the ripples on for ever, redemption rips through the surface of time in the cry of a tiny babe.

 

One of those (media) days

A recording for a BBC Radio 2 documentary at 8am this morning in London. Then the Chris Evans Show Pause for Thought on 'imagination'. Then a keynote conference address on communications challenges facing the church (mostly posed by the digital age and social media). Then a panel discussion at the Cheltenham Literature Festival on religion and the media. A bit of a busy one.

My points at the communications conference were basically:

• Churches need to (a) develop competence in understanding the particular media and the languages hat need to be spoken in order for different audiences to hear.
• Churches need to move from a reactive to a proactive mind-set – shaping the agenda/discourse, not always responding to it.
• Contemporary media demand (a) interactivity and (b) interconnectivity.

There is no longer any one-way traffic in terms of putting a message out there. We need to see what we put out as the first and not the last word. This demands the humility of learning and the confidence to drop defensiveness. Yes, we need to increase media and communications literacy – particularly with bishops and diocesan gate-keepers. 'Communications' is no longer what we do once we have done the business; communication is integral to our business. Therefore, communications professionals need to be at the heart of diocesan structures, around the table for any diocesan discussions, and looking at all aspects of diocesan life through a communications lens.

The challenge is to listen, learn, flex and be unafraid of risk or failure.

This evening's discussion at the Cheltenham Literature Festival was mediated by Michael Wakelin, former Head of Religion and Ethics at the BBC. The panelists were me, Lucy Winkett, Abdul-Rehman Malik and Sarah Joseph. We covered a number of elements of religion and media and I tried to be more positive about (particularly) social media. We covered matters of religious literacy on the part of media professionals, but also the need for religious practitioners to master the media they wish to work in. Incompetence is not over-ruled by some idea of the vitality of any 'message'.

One woman had a bit of a rant after the event. I couldn't quite work out why such rudeness was supposed to commend her atheism to me. Funnily enough, I agreed with some of her complaints about the church, but couldn't see why she was telling me all this in such an aggressive way.

Oh well…

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Going local

Globalisation is the word we keep hearing. Indeed, the world has shrunk and contact with people of different cultures and contexts can be immediate. News is instant and judgements are quick (even if ludicrously limited or wild). But, despite HSBC’s claim to be ‘the world’s local bank’, it is the ‘uniquely local’ that always matters most. Here in Bradford one question that nags away at me (as a relative newcomer) is: how does this city become uniquely Bradford and not simply a competitor with somewhere else (like Leeds)?

One of the privileges of being a bishop is that you get out and about a lot – visiting real people in real local places, hearing local stories, learning about the uniquely local realities, and seeing one ‘locality’ through the lens of another. For example, whenever we grapple with inner-urban issues (both challenges and opportunities) we do so partly by looking at them through the lens of the rural and suburban. And, of course, vice versa. This means that there is always another perspective – a different light to shine on one reality/context – that inevitably questions our assumptions, checks our excuses and compels us to look more broadly.

This doesn’t just apply to geography and demography. In my travels around the diocese I also try to help people to read the Bible in this way: seeing the particular reading in the light of the whole narrative and allowing assumptions or prejudices to be challenged by looking at the text from a different perspective. It is like looking at a cropped fragment of a painting or photograph, working out what is is about, then drawing back to the wider canvas and – on seeing the true, fuller picture – revising our prior judgement in the light of what we now see.

Yesterday’s budget by the Chancellor in London is no doubt causing a lot of sound and fury around the country. I haven’t had time to look at it as all day every day seems to be filled with people and work at the moment – all good stuff and the stuff of the real world. But, as well as asking what impact the budget will have on people locally – especially poor, sick and vulnerable people – yesterday saw the bodies of the six (five from Yorkshire) soldiers killed recently in Afghanistan repatriated to England. I was asked recently on the telly how the people of Bradford were coping with the news of their tragic deaths – as if I should know how everyone is thinking or feeling! Yet, the question is valid in the sense that a soldier from Bradford has a connection (at lots of levels: identity, locality, commonality of environment and experience) that a soldier from Brighton does not and cannot have.

Identity and association work at different levels. When I am abroad I am fiercely English/British; in England I am Scouse; in Yorkshire I am Bradfordian; in Bradford I am… er… trying to learn what ‘Bradford’ is and what ‘Bradfordian’ means. Which I love.

Being positive about locality is not about being blind to its challenges. But, it does mean (in Christian terms) taking ‘presence and engagement’ seriously. Christianity is inherently incarnational: we see God in the person of Jesus who then sees us as his body, called with a single mandate, therefore, to reflect the Jesus we read about in the gospels. And this means paying attention to the local, the small, the parochial, the relatively insignificant, the everyday realities that shape the lives (for good or ill) of people in every community. Which is what the Church of England tries to do, using its clergy, people, buildings, ‘purchasing power’, and down-to-earth commitment to transform both the way we live and the way we see – from the inside out and from the outside in.

Today I am meeting nine curates, one after the other, for interviews about their future ministerial deployment. Conversation about their ministry has with it huge consequences for spouses, children, families, schooling, employment, etc. It is easy to take this commitment for granted, but it is frequently remarkable and humbling. And it always takes place in the context of trying to hold the individual in the light of the common and the local in the light of the wider church and world.

It is never boring.