The Dawk

'Imagine someone holding forth on biology whose only knowledge of the subject comes from The British Book of Birds, and you have a rough idea of what it feels like to read Richard Dawkins on the subject of theology.'
Thus begins the literary critic Terry Eagleton's recent review of Richard Dawkins' latest book, The God Delusion. If you have somehow managed to miss it, it's well worth a read.

detective fiction

I've guest posted on my top ten detective fiction must-reads over at faith and theology . Writing the list was a lot of fun, but took ages because I kept stopping to re-read old favorites!

Gaudy Night

I have been re-reading one of my favorite novels of all time, Gaudy Night, by Dorothy L Sayers. Dorothy was a terrible old snob, and her portrayal of porters, maids and valets is teeth-grittingly condescending, but I am, nonetheless, always delighted by this book. It paints Oxford in unforgettably golden tones, and makes one long to punt, stroll the college gardens, quote John Donne and dine at High Table. And if you have followed the encounters of Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane through the previous novels of the series, nothing is more satisfying than the last page of Gaudy Night. Crime, romance, comedy and philosophy - it's all here!
For those of us who hang out at both universities and churches, this is the bit where Harriet goes to church:
'Here was the great Anglican compromise at its most soothing and ceremonial. The solemn procession of doctors in hood and habit; the Vice Chancellor bowing to the preacher, and the beadles tripping before them; the throng of black gowns and hte decorous gaiety of the summer-froocked wives of dons; the hymns and the bidding-prayer; the gowned and hooded preacher austere in cassock and bands; the quiet discourse delivered in a thin, clear, scholarly voice, and dealing gently with the relations of the Christian philosophy to atomic physics. Here were the Universities and the Church of England kissing one another in righteousness and peace, like the angels in a Botticelli Nativity; very exquisitely robed, very cheerful in a serious kind of way, a little mannered, a little conscious of their fine mutual courtesy. Here, without any heat, they could discuss their common problem, agreeing pleasantly, or pleasantly disagreeing to differ. Of the grotesque and ugly devil-shapes sprawling at the foot of the picture, these angels had no word to say.'

avoidance

This may not mean very much to those of you who are unaware of the feverish excitement that surrounds Australian Rules football in Melbourne, but:
Every year, as a matter of personal amusement, I make it my aim to try not to know which teams are in the Grand Final. Initially, this is not too difficult - just a matter of being generally ignorant about the teams and their progress. As the season progresses, however, and particularly as the Grand Final approaches, it becomes increasingly challenging. I have to politely excuse myself from conversations, avoid certain sections of the newspaper, listen to my iPod on the tram. Last year I succeeded, this year I unintentionally discovered that the Sydney Swans were once again on the menu. But I've got about 24 hours to not find out who the second team is. The pressure is on, and I'm seriously considering skipping the departmental coffee break, as way too dangerous. I mean, there are people here writing their PhDs on Aussie Rules!

Hallelujah! Get happy!

Less than two months since I submitted my thesis, and the examiners' reports are back! The two eminent scholars (whose sandals I am not worthy to untie) who read the thesis did their job thoroughly. A nice balance of compliments and criticism: they unerringly identified the methodological flaw at the heart of the work, which had bothered me from the beginning - I still don't know how to fix it! Overall they were both enthusiastic, and passed it without amendment. I just have to bind it, hand it in, and wait for the letter that proclaims me 'all but degree'! And decide whether I want to try and turn it into a book (which, as both examiners said, would require a fair bit of reframing. It's a slippery little sucker!)
So sincere thanks to those of you who've seen me through this! There will be a party, and you're all invited.

string thing

Were a genie to appear and offer me three wishes, I would ask (having dealt first with world peace and church unity) whether I could please be given a proficiency in playing the banjo. I've never even picked one up, but there is something about the combination of rhythm and whine in banjo music that I find deeply endearing. Five albums that I am currently listening to on my iPod make good use of those qualities. In no particular order, I recommend:

40 Days (The Wailin' Jennys)
Blue Horse (Be-Good Tanyas)
Illinois (Sufjan Stevens)
O Brother Where art Thou? (Various)
Why should the fire die? (Nickel Creek)

Toe-tapping good!

Bebbington visit

If you're in or around Melbourne next week, you might like to come along to this mini-conference that I'm organising, which kicks off with a paper from David Bebbington, godfather of British evangelical history:

'Fanaticism and Sound Learning: Primitive Methodist Revival in County Durham in 1851'
David Bebbington, University of Stirling
1-2pm, Tuesday, 29th August
Jessie Webb Library, Dept of History, University of Melbourne

Followed by a seminar on 'Religion in the Modern World', 2 - 5.30pm.
Members of the Department will present papers on their own research into the historical place of religion in the modern world. After the seminar, all are invited to dinner at a restaurant on Lygon St.

Organising this seminar (and writing a paper for it) is one of the things keeping me too busy to blog!

worse and worse

I certainly don't think there are any simple answers to what's going on in the Middle East at the moment, but one thing I'm sure of: this doesn't help at all.

synopsis

So, anyway, I wrote this thesis and submitted it, but I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it was about. Is that a bad sign? (Can I just note that after I handed in my thesis, Andrew gave me a card, in which he congratulated me and added 'In this regard, I have always thought it important that my wife submit.') I've written a synopsis for the purpose of applying for postdocs, which goes like this:

This thesis examines the construction of suffering in early English Methodism, with particular reference to the hymns of Charles Wesley, co-founder of the movement. Wesley wrote thousands of hymns, many of which focus on the experience of overwhelming pain. As eighteenth-century men and women sang or read these hymns, they were encouraged to adopt a distinctive approach to suffering, one which drew upon long-standing elements in Christian tradition, as well as new patterns in English culture. Identifying the construction of suffering in the hymns illuminates the culture of early Methodism and its complex relationship to its eighteenth-century English context.
My analysis places the hymns within the broader 'narrative culture' of early Methodism, which encouraged individuals to interpret their lives and experiences as part of a story of great spiritual significance. The hymns engaged men and women with a spiritual drama of conviction, conversion, sanctification and heavenly reward. Suffering was central to Wesley's depiction of this drama. I examine his construction of the suffering of Christ, the suffering of Christians, and Christian responses to the suffering of others, demonstrating that each of these had an important place in his portrayal of the normative Christian experience. Those who read or sang the hymns were encouraged to embrace suffering as an experience that offered opportunities for intimacy with, and imitation of, Christ.
Recognising Wesley's construction of suffering does not explain exactly how Methodist men and women responded to affliction, but it does illuminate these responses. The letters and journals of Methodist men and women reveal that not all early Methodists adopted Wesley's construction of suffering. The broad contours of his construction are, however, reflected in early Methodist attitudes to affliction. This construction of suffering helps explain some distinctive aspects of early Methodist culture, in particular the role of women in the movement, the intensity of early Methodist fellowship and the involvement of Methodists in social reform.

Does that make any kind of sense to the general reader?

book meme

Ben has come up with a meme about books... I've tagged a few people below, but I'd love to hear anyone else's responses, too!

1. One book that changed your life.

Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children

2. One book you've read more than once

Joan Aiken, Wolves of Willoughby Chase
(at least fifteen times before I was 12!)

3. One book you'd want on a desert island

Psalms

4. One book that made you laugh

Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim

5. One book that made you cry

Primo Levi, If This is a Man

6. One book you wish had been written

Jurgen Habermas, The Simple Version

7. One book you wish had never been written

The Scofield Reference Bible
(just the reference bits, obviously!)

8. One book you're currently reading

Asa Briggs, The Age of Improvement, 1783 - 1867

9. One book you've been meaning to read

William Cavanaugh, Theopolitical Imagination

10. Tag five people:

Greg
Simone
Simon
Stephen

No Presbyterians, No Machines

... was the slogan of a group of Luddite campaigners in the North of England during the industrial revolution. I mentioned it to my mother, and she said it sounded like the perfect world. I think (given that she's a Presbyterian minister's wife) that she was joking. But the slogan is evidence, once again, of how intertwined religious and social change are in British history. Why were Presbyterians and machines associated? Because if you were a dissenter from the Church of England, you were barred from almost every means of advancing yourself except through business and industry. In addition, because dissenters were not allowed to attend Cambridge or Oxford, they got a much more practical and thorough education through their own academies, which were more open to new science and technology. In particular, the Scots (who were mainly Presbyterians) had a far superior education system to the English. So many of the inventors, businessmen and industrialists at the forefront of industrialisation were dissenters.
It is because of this kind of connection that I am going to spend much of my first few weeks of tutoring explaining basic elements of Christian doctrine and church structure to my students. That, and the fact that I'm on much safer ground there than trying to explain how the spinning jenny worked!

all done bar the waiting

Yes indeedy, the thesis is in. The forms have been signed, the champagne has been drunk, the celebratory balloon has been received (a Melbourne Uni tradition). After three and a half years working on this project, I feel like someone who has just done something incredibly risky - presented my work to senior scholars for their merciless scrutiny - WHAT WAS I THINKING???
And now: semester has begun, I start tutoring today, I have post-docs and jobs for which to apply, articles to write, publishers to contact, seminars to organise.... and plenty of blogging to catch up on! I'm looking forward to it all.

taking a break

Well, as the silence might indicate, I have been very busy. It's three months until my thesis submission date and I have got to the point where I'm waking up in the middle of the night thinking about chapter four. (At present I feel as though chapter four will haunt me for the rest of my days, but I hope that's just paranoia). In addition, a colleague and I have been given the opportunity to develop and teach at least one (hopefully two) British history subjects in our department next year. Very exciting, given that neither of us has actually received our doctorates yet, but it's meant a flurry of work preparing course outlines. In short, I haven't had the time or energy for blogging and I think until the thesis is submitted that's unlikely to change. So I'll be dropping in occasionally, but not posting much. I hope to get back into it in August - until then, thanks so much for reading!

perils of an ipod (or 'from the sublime to the ridiculous')

Can I just ask: is there anything more ridiculous than a 31-year-old, middle-class white woman standing in a train carriage jam-packed with commuters, jutting her chin and tapping her toe while repeatedly mouthing the words 'Jesus walks'?
I think not. And yet, when it comes to this song, I simply cannot help myself. My fellow-passengers should just be relieved that I have so far resisted the urge to actually start rapping. 'Y'll know what the midwest is?/ The young and restless - the restless/ Might snatch your neckless/ Next day - they'll jack your Lexus'. I save that for the shower.

Song of Songs (6): Resurrection

Christ has died.
Christ has risen.
Christ will come again.

Reflecting on the resurrection over the weekend, I realise that the connection between eros and Easter is an important one. We listened to a series of talks by N.T. Wright on Sunday afternoon, which brought this home to me. The bodily resurrection, rightly understood, is the sign of God's lasting commitment to what he has made. He will not simply destroy this creation: he is recreating it, and one day he will bring that recreation to completeness. God's commitment to creation is why this body and its desires and its experiences matter. It's why gender and sex matter. It's why eros is God's good gift, not simply the meaningless impulse of flesh that has nothing to do with the important matters of spirit. It's why sexual abuse is so deeply and agonisingly destructive to people and an abomination to God. It's why we cannot simply say (much as I would like to!) that with all the poverty and injustice in this world, who cares what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms? The resurrection means that God cares. This is not to say that the state should regulate sexual practice as it does taxes or traffic. It is to say that we come to God as whole people and as whole communities: our eating, our drinking, our sexual desires, our shopping, the thoughts and inspirations of our hearts, our treatment of the poor, the art we create and the books we read and write. God is committed to it all, and this is the context in which he builds his kingdom. And perhaps this is the insight to which the Song points when it recognises how profoundly and how powerfully love can move a person:

"Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned." (Song 8: 6-7)

Song of Songs (5): the Pope and the Song

Given that Benedict XVI and I are such chums, it's not surprising that he too should have been giving the Song some thought in recent months. In his first papal encyclical, the Pope explores the idea of God's love. In the process, he deals with the question of the relationship between eros (which he variously defines as 'worldly', 'possessive' or 'ascending' love) and agape ('love grounded in... faith', 'oblative' or 'descending' love). The Pope argues strongly that the biblical tradition affirms the value of eros, but he condemns any use of sex that demeans the body or turns it into just another product to be consumed. Eros has the potential to lead men and women to an unselfish love, towards 'the Divine' - but only through 'a path of ascent, renunciation, purification and healing'. And this is where he turns his attention to the Song:

"Concretely, what does this path of ascent and purification entail? How might love be experienced so that it can fully realize its human and divine promise? Here we can find a first, important indication in the Song of Songs, an Old Testament book well known to the mystics. According to the interpretation generally held today, the poems contained in this book were originally love-songs, perhaps intended for a Jewish wedding feast and meant to exalt conjugal love. In this context it is highly instructive to note that in the course of the book two different Hebrew words are used to indicate “love”. First there is the word dodim, a plural form suggesting a love that is still insecure, indeterminate and searching. This comes to be replaced by the word ahabà, which the Greek version of the Old Testament translates with the similar-sounding agape, which, as we have seen, becomes the typical expression for the biblical notion of love. By contrast with an indeterminate, “searching” love, this word expresses the experience of a love which involves a real discovery of the other, moving beyond the selfish character that prevailed earlier. Love now becomes concern and care for the other. No longer is it self-seeking, a sinking in the intoxication of happiness; instead it seeks the good of the beloved: it becomes renunciation and it is ready, and even willing, for sacrifice."

This is a thoughtful attempt to give eros an honoured place in Christian theology and experience. Two of the many responses to the encyclical, one positive from the theologian John Milbank, another less so from an Anglican priest here in Melbourne, suggest that the church is ready to hear a lot more discussion about the rightful place of eros.

Song of Songs (4): Actually singing it.

Here's a tough question: what do we do with the Song of Songs in the modern church? The problem, I think, is that it creates a clash of categories for us. In the modern church, we sing together, about stuff in which we have some kind of communal investment. Even when our songs are individual ('I just really want to praise you' style) they represent topics and sentiments that are communal, public. In the modern church, sexual desire is not really a 'together' topic: it's deeply private. I feel resentment at being asked to sing 'I feel like dancing' in church, but I would feel intense embarrassment about being asked to sing 'Shall I climb that palm and take hold of the boughs?' in church. Not to mention the pastoral issues involved in singing of the sweetness of sexual desire for those for whom this desire is a matter of agony.
A friend and relation of mine, whom I will call Simone (because that's her name) suggests that the Song works best as a kind of pop music - for performance, not communal singing. She's used the Song as the inspiration for lyrics that could be sung as a solo performance, in 'pop' style. I reproduce it here: she'd happily receive any comments or suggestions!

kiss me, kiss me

1. My lover like no other,
A pear tree in the forest,
My joy to sit in his shelter,
His fruit is sweet, sweet to my taste.

Lay me down among your foliage,
Cover me with love, your banner, your flag,
Strengthen me with fruit for I, I am fev'rish
Revive my flesh for I am faint.

Kiss me, kiss me,
Fill me up
Delight my senses with your touch,
Kiss me, kiss me,
Soar above
I'm drunk on your fragrance
and your wonderful love.

2. My lover wants no other,
My vineyard his desire
Come see the buds that have blossomed
The flowers opened; they're in bloom

Come, come with me now, beloved
As you touch my hand, my pulse rises above
Open up your lips, your mouth to my sweetness
Drink the new wine of my love.

Kiss me, kiss me,
Fill me up
Delight my senses with your touch,
Kiss me, kiss me,
Soar above
I'm drunk on your fragrance
and your wonderful love.

Bridge:
I am a garden locked up,
My springs, my fruits are enclosed
But now I give you the key,
My lover coming to me
His left hand under my head,
His right hand holding me close.

Kiss me, kiss me,
Fill me up
Delight my senses with your touch,
Kiss me, kiss me,
Soar above
I'm drunk on your fragrance
and your wonderful love.

Song of Songs (3): movies and marriage

O for your kiss! For your love
More enticing than wine,
For your scent and sweet name -
For all this they love you.

Take me away to your room,
Like a king to his rooms -
We'll rejoice there with wine.
No wonder they love you!

(Poem 1, in Marcia Falk's translation of The Song of Songs)


Of all the places you might expect to hear a bit of the Song of Songs, a rather black British comedy starring Rowan Atkinson would probably not be one of them. In the recent film Keeping Mum, however, the Song has an important role to play. The film itself is an odd mixture, combining black humour and some rather disturbing sub-plots with a quite profound story about a struggling marriage. There's an unevenness about it that reminds me of Love Actually, which managed to place a series of rom-com stories ranging from the frothy to the outrageous, next to a searingly honest and powerful story of a marriage betrayed.
Keeping Mum tells the story of the Reverend Walter Goodfellow, a rather ineffectual parish priest, trying to manage the endless tasks of ministry alongside a family that's wilting because of his neglect. His son is being bullied, his daughter is sleeping her way through a succession of boyfriends, and his wife Gloria (Kristen Scott Thomas, magnificent as always) is being seduced by the local golf coach (played by Patrick Swayze, who was born to play sleazy Americans!). Into their lives comes a new housekeeper Grace Hawkins, who immediately begins to transform their lives, through fair means and foul. Bodies pile up, self-discovery and the revelation of secrets ensues.
Apart from the rather clever play with names (Goodfellow, Gloria, Grace) the thing I really liked about this movie was the way it dealt with Walter and Gloria's marriage. It is on the rocks: Walter is obsessed with his parish and his sermon-writing: he is trying to be everything to everyone and failing miserably. Gloria, who married Walter because she recognised that he was different and special, is starved for attention and desperate for an escape from the stultifying world of the village. Grace engineers a solution, and in part it involves the Song. She encourages Walter to read the Song, brushing aside his suggestion that its an allegory of divine love. 'The Bible is full of sex!' she exclaims. In a beautiful scene, Walter reads the Song, while watching his wife prepare for bed. When I say that this scene makes Rowan Atkinson an extremely desirable man, fans of Mr Bean will appreciate the power of the Song!
In one sense, this is quite a conventional use of the Song: it expresses desire within the sanctioned context of marriage. Reading the Song itself, it's quite clear that the Song is not primarily about marriage, but about erotic desire. The Song assumes that this desire is connected to marriage (though not necessarily monogamous marriage, given the references to Solomon's concubines), but the language is of 'my bride', not 'my wife'. On the surface, the Song is about youth, beauty and honeymoons, not about a middle-aged vicar and his cardigan-wearing wife. But I think the insight of the movie is that this idealised depiction of youthful love among the pomegranates is also fittingly read within a tried and tested sexual relationship. In that context the Song points to the possibility of a continual rediscovery of desire, to the sudden recognition of the beauty of the other, and to the love 'stronger than death' that fuels these encounters. Against this background, the frantic promiscuity of the Goodfellows' beautiful daughter is clearly seen to have little to do with love or desire of such depth.

Song of Songs (2): a little hymn and a little history

Song of Songs doesn't get a whole lot of air time in the churches I've been to. And for a text that's identified as a 'song', it doesn't get sung much. The one exception I can think of is a chorus we used to sing in Sunday School, 'His banner over me is love'. For which I still have a soft spot! Historically, however, there have been a few attempts to make the Song 'singable' - one of the few is by the godfather of hymn-writing, Charles Wesley.
Let me start with a little context for this hymn. It comes from a series of hymnbooks that Charles Wesley published in the mid-eighteenth century, entitled 'Short Hymns on Select Passages of Holy Scripture'. Together, these hymnbooks make up a kind of poetic commentary on the whole of Scripture. They include 21 hymns on the Song of Songs. The following is the first hymn in the series (the title indicates which verse Wesley is responding to).

'The song of songs, which is Solomons - i. I.
1. Hence ye profane! far off remove
Ye strangers to redeeming love,
Sinners, who Jesus never knew,
The song of songs is not for you!
Away ye worldly goats and swine,
Who trample on this pearl Divine,
Which only wisdom's sons esteem,
While fools and infidels blaspheme.

2. With deepest shame, with humblest fear,
I to Thine oracle draw near,
To meet Thee in the holiest place,
To learn the secret of Thy grace:
Now, Lord, explain the mystery,
Display Thy precious self to me,
And when Thou dost the veil remove,
My heart shall sing the song of love.

3. Thou heavenly Solomon Divine,
To teach the song of songs is Thine,
Thy Spirit alone the depths reveals,
Opens the book, and breaks the seals:
O might I find the bar removed,
And love my Lord as I am loved,
This moment gain my heart's desire,
The next within Thine arms expire!

What I find most interesting about this hymn is the tension about the text that it communicates. Anxiety that it will be misunderstood by 'the profane' (presumably those unbelievers who read the Song as a poem about human sexual experience), but also concern that it will be unintelligible to the believer. It is a text that must be approached 'With deepest shame, with humblest fear'; the language of veils, depths, seals and bars suggests that its meanings are hidden. Even when understood as an allegory, the use of the erotic as a metaphor is one that Wesley clearly experiences as dangerous.
Wesley's hymn certainly supports my overall suggestion that Song of Songs has historically been seen as a disruptive text. Why? Well, plenty of other people have written about the historical and theological reasons that Christians have worried about sex. In the Methodist context, though, I think the erotic is particularly dangerous because it's a threat to self-control. Early Methodists placed a very high value on the mastery of one's own body and emotions. Sex was one of the greatest challenges to that mastery (the other, I would argue, was suffering). How frightening, then, to read a text that deliberately describes and evokes sexual desire. And how important to begin any reading with a strong denunciation of 'profane' interpretations and with an attitude of 'shame' and 'fear'.

The Song of Songs (1): Disruption

My dove
in the clefts
of the rocks
the secret
of steep ravines

Come let me look at you
Come let me hear you

Your voice clear as water
Your beautiful body


Poem 10 in Marcia Falk's translation of The Song of Songs.

In reflecting on the Song of Songs over the next week, I am responding to my own experience of the book as disruptive. Read as a description of erotic love (particularly in careful and evocative translations such as Marcia Falk's) it is a book that sits profoundly uncomfortably within traditional Christian ideas about sex (and, to a lesser extent, gender). This is made obvious by the almost 2000 years of allegorical interpretation that Christians have developed, in which the poem(s) becomes an extended description of the relationship between the human soul and the divine lover.

In being disruptive, I think the Song fits well with other texts that are characterised as 'wisdom literature'. My own experience of teaching and studying Proverbs, Job and Ecclesiastes with evangelicals is that they are each experienced as problematic. I well remember the anxiety created in a bible study group I was leading over the question: 'In what sense are biblical proverbs true?' More dramatically, Job offers no easy answers to the problem of suffering and Ecclesiastes is an almost unrelentingly bleak vision of human experience. The attempt to summarise these books within a simplistic system (eg. Ecclesiastes is the viewpoint of a person who doesn't know Yahweh; Job provides a watertight theodicy; the Song is about the delights of conjugal love) does violence to the complexity of the texts and, I assume, to their purpose.

Modern scholars like myself delight in disruption and tension, and it's possible to just embrace these texts as overturning any attempt at systematic theology. But the anxieties these books create do reflect real pastoral issues that any Christian should be deeply concerned over. For example, simply celebrating the erotic adventures of the characters in the Song as a vindication of wholehearted sexual expression may insensitively ignore the agonies, longings, humiliations and doubts that bedevil most people's experience of sexual desire in this life.

So this week, I don't plan to explain the text, or preach it, or simply ogle it. Rather, I want to sit with it for a while. In particular, I want to reflect on a number of responses to the text and the issues it raises - in a movie, in a hymn, in a modern song, in Marcia Falk's amazing translation, perhaps even in a papal encyclical! And also, I hope the responses of those of you who continue to read my ramblings.

Tomorrow: an eighteenth-century hymn on the Song.

sex and spirit: a week on song of songs

Well, I am taking my courage in both hands and preparing to start a week of blogging on that fascinating biblical text, the Song of Songs. I'm not planning anything like a systematic theological discussion, rather a series of responses (including some historical stuff, a movie review and some modern lyrics) that represent different angles on the text. I hope to start tomorrow or the next day, and I'd certainly appreciate your company as I step into dangerous territory!

justice and beauty

On Friday night we went to hear N T Wright speak on 'Justice and Beauty'. It was a talk clearly aimed at a general (Christian) audience, rather than a rigorous theological exploration, but good nonetheless. Below is a skeleton outline of his talk...

Wright began by discussing human longings for justice and beauty, and the way that these longings have been explained and responded to in major philosophical and religious traditions. He identified three basic philosophical responses to the desire for justice (and beauty):
- the desire for justice (or beauty) is simply a projection of childish fantasies; there is no such thing as absolute justice (or beauty) and maturity requires us to accept that.
- the desire for justice (or beauty) is a sign of a perfect world which has no relation to this one
- the desire for justice (or beauty) is a call from a person who is committed to bringing true justice to the world.
He differentiated justice from beauty more strongly than I have, but it will do for a summary!

He then suggested that the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is the way God begins his transformation of this world into a place of perfect justice and beauty. The resurrection is particularly important in this regard, because it means that there is continuity between this creation and the new creation. If God is committed to the transformation of this creation, then we must not simply see ourselves as killing time here, waiting for another, perfect world. Instead we need to be part of God's work in this world, which has been begun through Jesus' death and resurrection, is continued in the world now, and will be completed when Jesus comes again.

In regard to justice and beauty, we (Christians) need to consider two questions:
1. how can we implement God's justice?
[From my notes]: A commitment to justice is part of recognising the meaning of the resurrection. The resurrection is revolutionary (here he compared the politically active Pharisees and the politically quietist Sadducees). Christians have gone to two extremes in regard to justice:
- seeing preaching the gospel as the only really significant task for Christians, with 'bandaid' charity as a response to justice issues
- trying to bring in the kingdom here and now by our own efforts (trying to pull the world up by its bootstraps!)
Instead, we need to demonstrate a commitment to justice while understanding the framework of God's work in the world. Wright said he wanted to go on the record as saying that the international economic imbalance was the biggest justice issue for Christians today and we must be involved in debt relief and other measure that will address these inequalities.
2. how can we celebrate God's beauty?
[straight from notes again] Beautiful things are more beautiful when you know the beautiful purposes they are made for. eg. a violin
Christians need to see art not as an 'extra' in life, but as an integral part of responding to God's world. To continue to affirm that there is beauty in the world is to testify that it is God's world. We need to avoid the extremes of sentimentalism and brutalism, both of which deny the realities of life. In the question time he gave some examples of art that manages to avoid these extremes, both among Christians and others. Interestingly, most of the questions were about beauty, whereas I would have liked to ask about justice... I'll collect my thoughts and blog about that soon.

the archbishop on history

[T]he very effort to make any kind of historical narrative can be seen as a sort of act of faith, faith that massive disruption does not in fact destroy the possibilities of understanding, and thus the possibility of a shared world across gulfs of difference... this also helps us see why for a Christian the writing of history is bound to be theological in some ways. It is not that considerations of doctrine decide the results of research; God forbid. But the possibility of telling a consistent or coherent story about how God's people have lived is inescapably, for the believer, the possibility of seeing two fundamental theological points. God's self-consistency is to be relied on (ie. God is not at the mercy of historical chance and change); and thus relation to God can be the foundation of a human community unrestricted by time or space, by language or cultural difference.

Rowan Williams, 'Why Study the Past', p.22.

made me laugh

On the weekend, Andrew and I drove to my parents' place and had to stop at a set of traffic lights just around the corner from their house. The lights were red for an incredibly long time, so we sat and waited, and waited, and waited. After a few minutes of this, Andrew sighed impatiently and said, 'OK, now I am officially bawdy'.

holy terror

It's been a full couple of weeks - writing, teaching, avoiding the Commonwealth Games and visiting our families up north for a wedding. All good stuff, but not very conducive to blogging. One interesting little kerfuffle I would have liked to comment on, was the debate over the Crusades that blew up in The Australian newspaper. Particularly interesting to me at present, as I've just been discussing the Crusades in the church history tutorial I run. The newspaper reported that a history text being used in some Australian schools draws a comparison between the Islamic terrorists who destroyed the Twin Towers and the twelfth century Crusaders. Now that comparison may be useful in exploring us-and-them assumptions in high schoolers, but it is entirely weak from a historical viewpoint - it ignores the development of strategies of terror as a means of waging war over the past hundred years or so. I was fascinated, however, by the response to this article, which was to debate the merits of the Crusades. A number of senior scholars came out to defend the Crusaders (see the article linked above) and The Australian also published an editorial defending them. I'm amazed at the extent to which this twelfth-century European Catholic escapade is still clearly part of 'our' conscious history, with all these emotive connotations!

religious worlds

I've been reading Robert Orsi on the weaknesses of religious studies as a discipline:

"Any approach to religion that foregrounds ehtical issues as these are now embedded in the discipline obstructs our understanding of religious idioms because religion at its root has nothing to do with morality. Religion does not make the world better to live in (although some forms of religious practice might); religion does not necessarily comform to the credal formulations and doctrinal limits developed by cultured and circumspect theologians, church leaders, or ethicists; religon does not unambiguously orient people toward social justice. Particular religious idioms can do all of these things. The religious motivated civil rights movement is a good example of a social impulse rooted in an evangelical faith and dedicated to a more decent life for men and women. But however much we may love this movement and however much we may prefer to teach it (as opposed to the "cultic" faith of Jonewtown or the "magical" beliefs of "popular" religion) this is not the paradigm for religion, nor is it the expression of religion at some idealized best. There is a quality to the religious imagination that blurs distinctions, obliterates boundaries - especially the boundaries we have so long and so carefully erected within the discipline - and this can, and often does, contribute to social and domestic violence, not peace. Religion is often enough cruel and dangerous, and the same impulses that result in a special kind of compassion also lead to destruction, often among the same people at the same time. Theories of religion have largely served as a protection against such truths about religion."

Robert A. Orsi, Between Heaven and Earth: The Religious Worlds People Make and the Scholars Who Study Them, 191.

Oscars

I watched a bit of the Oscars last night. I've only watched them once before, and I hadn't remembered them being quite such an exercise in self-congratulation. Certainly, the line-up of contenders this year (movies like Goodnight and Goodluck, Syriana, Brokeback Mountain, Transamerica, North Country) tackle some significant issues in courageous ways. But the general tone of the evening seemed to be 'aren't we all so politically subversive, socially aware and culturally progressive'. This is Hollywood we're talking about! The MC, Jon Stewart from The Daily Show, seemed to be the only person questioning this self-indulgent perspective. My favorite moment was when he commented on Charlize Theron's role in North Country: he quipped that after making a movie about a world where women were judged on the basis of their looks and paid significantly less than men, it must be a real relief to leave that world behind and get back to Hollywood. You could have heard a pin drop - not a snicker to be heard! Message to Jon: it's all very well criticising those bigots in Wyoming, chauvinists in middle America or corrupt politicians in Washington, but not pointing out a few obvious home truths!

N T Wright

OK, this I am very excited about!

N T Wrights Visit to Melbourne:

Renowned New Testament scholar N T Wright is visiting Melbourne 23-26 March 2006.

Teaching Nights (7.30-9.30pm)

Hawthorn Town Hall, 360 Burwood Road, Hawthorn

Thursday 23rd March 2006

Evil & the justice of God.

Friday 24th March 2006

Beauty & Justice - using the arts to rethink & re-express the Christian faith in a postmodern world.

Seminar (10am - 4pm)

Friday 24th March 2006

Rethinking Resurrection: Hope for the world & for now

the cross and the crown

One of the most influential historical 'takes' on early Methodism was that offered by E.P. Thompson in his book 'The Making of the English Working Class'. Thompson was a Methodist minister's son and a Marxist, and he offered a compelling and (in many ways) insightful portrayal of nineteenth-century Methodism that was almost entirely hostile. Methodism, he argued, was the method by which the English working class was transformed into a docile industrial workforce. Methodism taught the English poor that life was crucifixion, and that disciplined work was the path to salvation. Thompson used the memorable phrase 'psychic masturbation' to describe the outpourings of emotion at Methodist meetings: these 'Sabbath orgasms of feeling' were the result of a week-long repression of all normal emotion in the disciplines of work.
Now Thompson was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about the 'life as crucifixion' bit. His main argument is based on Charles Wesley's hymns, which do encourage Methodists to believe that suffering is the only path to sanctification, and so Christian life will be a pattern of cross followed by heavenly crown. In the chapter I've just rewritten, I've been assessing Thompson's argument from a number of angles: was he right about the message of the hymns, do they represent broader Methodist opinion, and did the construction of life as crucifixion really lead to political quietism. The answers, for anyone who's interested are yes, not entirely and possibly.
While I agree with Thompson in parts, I am arguing strongly that the 'cross and crown' model of life does not always lead to acceptance of the status quo. In fact, quite the opposite. I end my chapter with the story of Dorothy Ripley, a Methodist woman who sailed from Whitby to America alone in 1801 to campaign against American slavery. Ripley spent the next 30 years working against slavery, crossing the Atlantic nine times, speaking to Congress, confronting angry slaveholders, starting schools for ex-slaves and eventually campaigning for prison reform and the protection of Native American rights. At the beginning of her first journey to America, she wrote in a prayer: 'And if great suffering be my allotment to ally me to thee, let me never shrink from the bitter cup offered in mercy.' For Ripley, the conviction that 'great suffering' was a valuable part of sanctification helped sustain her through the pains and demands of a life of activism.
I've written before about my ambivalence about the history of evangelical activism: often paternalistic and ignorant, doing much harm as well as good. But there is no doubt in my mind that evangelicals have sustained the kind of passionate, difficult, sacrifical activism that they have because of precisely the conviction that Thompson decries. The cross is inevitable but it leads to the crown. While writing this chapter I had my argument confirmed by a quote from Charles Marsh's book about faith-based activism in the US, The Beloved Community. Marsh quotes a Pentecostal activist, working in community development in urban ghettos, who says in regard to Christian unwillingness to work for and with the poor: 'People don't want to accept that the cross comes before the crown'.

relationships

The Relationships Foundation is an organisation I've been interested in for a while now. They are a 'think and do tank' that starts from the principle that relationships are the most important thing in life. They are therefore interested in promoting good relationships at all levels of society, in families and workplaces, between different social and racial groups, as well as between nations. A big task! They provide training and consultants for organisations and communities trying to think and work more relationally, and have been involved (in the past) in peace negotiations in various trouble spots. If you're interested, check out their website for info, resources and to sign up for their newsletter.

Leviathan

Andrew and I have just finished reading Boris Akunin's novel Leviathan - another great read from the Russian crime novelist. Leviathan is a variation on the theme of the classic English detective novel - a terrible crime, a set number of possible murderers all on board a gigantic cruise ship, a bumbling French detective, and the dashing Russian diplomat Erast Fandorin on hand to unmask the villain. It's funny and it's clever and the translation is extremely skillful. We recommend!

reverence

Sunday was the Feast of the Transfiguration, and we had a sermon on reverence at church. In passing, our Reverend reflected on the lack of reverence in the modern world... he lamented the passing of a time when Australians were, by and large, godfearing and reverence towards things like sex and religion was part of the culture.
I've been thinking about the sermon and about the issue of 'reverence'. It seems to me that if it is indeed true that our society is less reverent, there are significant reasons for that. For most westerners at the end of the twentieth century, it might seem fairly obvious that reverence is a dangerous attitude. Reverence towards governments ends up with all your young men dead in wars that have nothing to do with you, reverence towards the church results in a nightmarish plague of abuse, reverence towards sex leaves people ignorant and afraid... and reverence towards God seems to create a culpable blindness that allows such horrors to be perpetuated. For us in the church, shouting at people 'BE MORE REVERENT' doesn't seem like much of a solution. And reverence in itself is surely not what God desires. It's reverence towards God, and God understood in all his grace and goodness.
Surely it's only as we reflect our own reverence for God... in a respect for his world, in a profound valuing of all the people he's made, in a rejection of the false gods of money and power, in persevering at building a community that is made up not just of people like us but of all who confess their need of God's grace, in the constant telling and retelling of the stories he has told us about himself, in a humility about ourselves and our own opinions... surely that's when people will see a reason for reverence.

writing and seduction

Another thought from the writing masterclass, on writing as a love affair. The speaker suggested that in a book (as opposed to in a thesis) we aim to seduce the reader, to make them fall in love with our voice. This means that the topic of the book is almost an excuse: we want the reader not to love our subject, but to love our 'take' on that subject. We are jealous (in the OT sense of a 'jealous' God!) of our readers' affections and attention, wanting them to be wholly ours. This has particular significance for the way we quote others. In a thesis, we quote others as 'authorities', because we are not presenting ourselves as authoritative. Their voices lend weight to ours. But in a book, we are careful not to allow the voices of others ever distract the reader from our, central, authoritative voice. To use the speaker's example, we would not want someone to sleep with us because we were friends with Kant'. But we might tell a joke about Kant to make ourselves look intelligent and attractive!
Again, I'm beguiled (I should say seduced!) by this analogy. But is writing really such an egotistical activity?

writing and virtue

I spent yesterday at a masterclass on writing for postgraduates in the humanities. A stimulating day, hearing from a number of academics who write for broader audiences than just those within their field. One of the speakers got me thinking about the importance of hatred in thinking and writing. He argued that (among other motivations) most of us are driven by a hatred of a particular approach to our subject. While this hatred is important and valuable as a motivation, it must not infect our writing, which has to be (his word!) 'lovely'.
Interesting! I realised that I do indeed hate (quite passionately) a particular, long-standing approach to Methodist history which to my mind has flattened an entirely fascinating religious culture into a bland, respectable, deathly boring set of theological propositions. And I am certainly driven by that hatred to write about early Methodism in a way that will somehow rescue it from that fate. The question is, do I embrace that hatred or regard it with suspicion? After all, I don't hate the people who've written the books I detest - I meet them at conferences and they are kind and delightful people. But hatred of an intellectual approach does spawn a lack of respect for people, an arrogance about my own ideas, a sneering attitude towards particular schools of thought. And that doesn't seem very virtuous!

At the tent flap sin crouches.

I've long been a fan of Robert Alter and his sensitive approach to the biblical texts. His book The Art of Biblical Narrative transformed my understanding of the OT. He has recently published a translation of the Pentateuch - James Woods has an excellent review here. Thanks to Greg for pointing it out!

right to work

In one of my first entries on this blog, I wrote about my time visiting asylum seekers in detention here in Melbourne. I haven't been out to the detention centre for a while, because there are hardly any asylum seekers kept in detention here anymore - the overall numbers of people in detention have dropped and those who are still in detention are kept well out of the public eye in desert centres.
The situation for those asylum seekers who have been allowed into the community is not great, however. In particular, there are around 7000 people who have been issued a visa called the Bridging Visa E. Under this visa people are not allowed to work and given no access to Medicare. That's right, they have no source of income and no way of paying their bills. If their children get sick, they can't take them to the doctor. I heard of one man who accidentally cut his finger off and didn't go to hospital because he knew he had no way of paying the bill.
These people are entirely dependent on charity. It is an absolutely disgraceful situation. The Uniting Church has begun a campaign to change the conditions of the Bridging Visa. If you're an Australian, please join the campaign. TEAR Australia has information and a letter-writing guide.

beards

February heralds an influx of PhD students back into the building I work in, prompting the question: is there some kind of deep connection between PhDs and beards? I rarely see a beard away from university, whereas a male postgrad without a beard is notable. And once Andrew and I were at a work dinner for one of the organizations he works with... table after table of cleanshaven men in business suits. Andrew said he'd introduce me to some of the scientists who work for the organization - and there they were, a row of boys with beards. I felt immediately at home.
What's with beards? And is there a female equivalent?

Royal Society

After reading Neal Stephenson's Baroque Trilogy, I have the entirely ridiculous notion that I am on intimate terms with the 17th century scientists who were members of the Royal Society (Newton, Wren, Hooke and co.) I'm therefore delighted to see that the Society minutes have been discovered in someone's cupboard.

what I do (and why)

I recently applied for a writing course and was required to submit a 500 word piece of writing, describing my research in a way that would be accessible to the general (educated) reader. Writing it made me aware of how attached I have become to certain academic norms - it seems sacrilegious to include quotes without footnotes, and I keep feeling the desire to qualify every statement. Here's what I wrote:

The history of human suffering divides naturally into the time before the invention of anasthetics and the time after. We who live in the latter time may find ourselves reluctant to imagine the experience of those who lived without the comfort of relatively effective pain relief. Theirs was a world in which a blow to the head was one of the few possible preparations for surgery; in which toothache drove people to suicide; in which a peaceful death was a rare blessing. Theirs is the world in which I immerse myself, in my study of the experience of suffering in eighteenth-century England.

Consider the description of a mastectomy sent to Charles Wesley, the Methodist revivalist and hymn-writer, in 1758. Entitled 'An account of Mrs Davis' behaviour during the operation of her breast being cut out', it is written by a friend who attended the operation. She writes of Mrs Davis:

'When the inside of her breast was taken out, she asked if they had done cutting. I answered yes, and some thread being called for, she immediately said 'There is some in my work basket on the table'. While they sewed up the blood vessel, she said 'This pain is very great'. She called on the Lord to strengthen her and said 'I'm faint'.'

This account is matter-of-fact in its description of details: the call for thread, the calm instruction by Mrs Davis, the sewing up of the flesh. Reading it, the imagination revolts. How did men and women endure such pain?

The very existence of this account suggests the importance of this question to those who wrote and read this description as well. Charles Wesley and the anonymous woman who composed this account were involved in the Methodist movement. Methodism was a revivalist sect within the Church of England that grew with staggering rapidiy during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, becoming in the process an established international denomination. As this account suggests, Methodists took a profound interest in a person's behaviour while in the crucible of physical agony. Mrs Davis's self-control in the face of suffering was evidence of the strength of her faith and so worthy of description to her fellow-Methodists.

In their journals and letters, in their hymns and sermons, Methodists explored the meaning of suffering and the means by which it could be managed and endured. Through reading these texts, I seek to answer the questions that intrigue me. What did suffering mean to Charles Wesley and his fellow Methodists? What shaped their responses to the physical and emotional pains of life? How did they maintain their faith in a loving (if stern) God in the face of horrors such as these? The answers to these questions are not only important for understanding this influential religious movement and the culture within which it developed, but they also provide a historical context within which we can reflect on the hard questions that the experience of suffering continues to provoke.

quote

'Once during my time teaching in Wesley College, after four terms taking a particular class through the history of the church in the ancient world and the Middle Ages, one of my students asked in despair "But where is the good news in all of this?" It was a fair question, to which I could best reply that all the story was good news. The history of Christianity is frequently sordid and depressing, and very frequently, apparently sacred events turn out to have very secular causes. Christians will remain beginners in their faith if they do not face up to this. The miracle of the church's story is that after all its mistakes, bewildering transformations and entanglements in human bitterness, it is still there'

Diarmaid MacCulloch, Groundwork of Christian History, p 11.

Ultimate Christian Wrestling.

I kid you not.

Israel

I went to two church services (at two different churches) on Sunday, and at both I heard prayers about Israel that distressed me. It's not that I worry that God will be swayed by unwise prayers (I certainly give him plenty of practice at resisting ridiculous requests). Evangelical foolishness about Israel continues to do plenty of damage, however, and to see it surfacing among fairly sensible people is alarming. For a good summary of the theological problem, I point you to Faith and Theology. For a jeremiad that I am inclined to agree with, (and which my experience on Sunday confirms), I point you to this post by Myles.
In the meantime, I'm resolving to spend more time praying for peace, which pleases God, who desires that all people be saved.

methodist monday (2)

Last Monday I commented that my reading of Methodist letters suggested that 'ordinary' people were often theologically aware and engaged. I've just been re-reading a couple of letters from a woman named Sarah Mason, who wrote to the Wesley brothers in the 1740s explaining her theological position. She gives a thorough defense of her moderate Calvinism, and demonstrates a clear understanding of the debates surrounding election. For example:

...though I cannot say I can fully close in [agree] with everything I hear, yet I have reason to bless God that I have heard what i trust has been made of use both for instruction and establishment in the faith once delivered to the saints... As to the doctrine of universal redemption what must I say, methinks Christ did in some sense die for all because the Scripture tells me he tasted death for every man - and that he is the Saviour of all men (but especially of them that believe) - but that he died in the fullest snese for and intentionally to save all the fallen race methinks it cannot be; because how then is it that all are not actually in the fullest sense made partakers of complete and eternal salvation.

She goes on to discuss a number of passages in Mark, and rejects the doctrine of reprobation. In another letter she quotes Hebrews 12:23 to argue that perfection is not possible in this life. She concludes:

The great restorer of all things is not yet come in that way we are waiting for, and it is with pleasure I think of those words, "He restoreth my Soul" (and those "I am the Lord that Healeth thee"). I believe it is through grace, under his healing hand; and that it is not in the power of men, or devils to pluck it thence... and methinks to this sorry, sinful soul of mine, these words are sweetly encouraging.

Again, I think these letters show both a theological awareness and a conviction that theology had significance for daily life. For both Sarah Wesley and Sarah Mason, too, their theological convictions were 'sweetly encouraging' in the face of life's trials.

Indigenous poverty

To commemorate Australia/Invasion Day (which was yesterday), I'd like to draw attention to the Make Indigenous Poverty History campaign. Many indigenous Australians live in poverty; their children are twice as likely to die in infancy; they suffer higher unemployment and are six times more likely to be murdered than the average Australian. The National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Ecumenical Commision (NATSIEC) has begun the Make Indigenous Poverty History campaign to draw attention to this apalling state of affairs and bring about meaningful change. Check out their website, and if you're an Australian, get involved.

methodist monday

I thought I'd blog a little on my research. I've been reading through stacks of unpublished letters, written in the eighteenth century to Charles Wesley, hunting for letters about suffering - sickness, bereavement, persecution, childbirth. It is sad reading, and sometimes it feels morally questionable to be reading letters which share such private thoughts and feelings. And yet it's fascinating to have the opportunity to listen to these long-dead Methodists, to hear how they understood and managed the terrible pains that eighteenth-century life so often brought.

There are hundreds of letters to Charles from his wife Sally. I've been looking in detail at the letter she wrote to inform him that one of their sons had died. She wrote:

My Dearest Mr Wesley,

This comes to acquaint you that our dear little Babe is no more, his agony is over but it was a hard struggle before he could depart, He was dying all yesterday from two o'clock and about 9 last night he departed. He screamed three times about half an hour before he died, that he could be heard from Nurse's Parlour to the other side of the street, not through guilt (that is my comfort) but through extreme pain, perhaps were I of Calvin's opinion I might have attributed it to a different cause, but glory be to a blessed Redeemer's love for declaring (for the consolation of distressed Parents) that "of such is the Kingdom of Heaven". O that I may land as safely in the harbour of eternal Peace...

It's a deeply moving letter. And I am struck that at the most intimate level of this eighteenth-century woman's grief over her dead son, theological debates mattered. So much English history is written as though theology had meaning only for the elites, while 'popular' religion was a matter of superstition and learned ritual. The letters I'm reading suggest that quite complicated theological debates were a matter of genuine and practical concern for the working classes. Where theology dealt with life and death (including who would be saved and how) people took notice.

icons

I've just signed up for a course on icon painting... something to broaden my Protestant mind (although as my Lutheran friends like to remind me, Luther was keen on icons) and exercise the left side of my brain. This icon by Andrei Rublev has me all inspired...

hurrah!

I have just finished my rough draft of the final chapter of my thesis! Lots and lots of rewriting to do, but it feels like a milestone passed.

Easter hymn

I spend my days studying hymns, but my new favorite is the Easter hymn Ben's daughter composed. I also enjoyed the sophisticated theological analysis provided by Ben (though as a cultural historian I would have liked him to pay a little more attention to the cultural function of her composition). Thanks to the tortoise of dissent for pointing it out.

the thesis writer's friend

The submission date for my thesis is looming, and I am spending much of my time trying to think through difficult theoretical questions that I've avoided for the last three years. My hot tip for this kind of intellectual dilemma is: go swimming! Yesterday I was wrestling with a thorny theoretical problem and took time off for some laps. First ten laps: mind in state of total confusion. Second ten laps: meditative calm. Third ten laps: effective mental effort. Fourth and fifth ten laps: solution to problem emerges as if by magic. This has happened more than once - somehow the repetition and physical effort does wonders for my mind!

and now for something completely different...

An interview with the Russian detective novelist, 'Boris Akunin'. (yes, that's B.Akunin for the Russian historians among you). I've just been enjoying his book 'The Turkish Gambit', set in nineteenth-century Russia and featuring a rollicking combination of spies, generals, Turks and a 'progressive' Russian heroine. In the interview Akunin talks about the contempt with which Russians regard 'popular fiction'- his mother is still waiting for him to write a 'real' book. And he refuses to do public appearances in Russia because (he says) Russians expect novelists to know the meaning of life. Earnest young men are apparently always asking him whether there's a God! Hm, yes, just like Australia...

Shadowmancer

Andrew and I have been reading G.P. Taylor's book Shadowmancer to each other. We like to have a good kid's book to get us through the housework (one person reads, one person folds the clothes/washes the dishes/ makes dinner). I know Shadowmancer has had some rave reviews, but frankly I'm disappointed. There's some good stuff about it: the setting (Cornish coast, 18th century) is atmospheric, and the introduction of demons and witchcraft into that gloomy and superstition-ridden context entirely effective. Having a vicar as the villain is a nice touch! But it just seems far too clunkily... Christian. Whole sections of the narration and dialogue are taken straight from the Bible or are oddly tract-like. What we can't work out (given that it seems to have sold really well) is whether it just grates on us because we went to Sunday School. Are there hundreds of kids out there who read a description of the dark lord as 'a prowling lion, seeking to devour you' and think it's a strikingly original image? Perhaps there are!

small is good

Having visited a small church again this weekend, I am feeling enthusiastic about such congregations. After a busy and emotionally demanding week, walking into a room with 150 people in it produces a strongly negative reaction that I have to get past in order to pay attention to anything. I had forgotten that in small congregations:
You can 'pass the peace' with everyone in the room.
You can talk to the same person you spoke to last week without feeling overwhelmed by how many people you haven't met yet.
Communion doesn't take forever, and the minister has time to chat to the kids about what it all means.
People feel comfortable calling out prayer requests.
As visitors you get lots of attention (and cake)!
You feel as though the minister knows the people to whom he's preaching.

I'll avoid becoming some kind of small-church fanatic (I have met a few!) but at the moment, 30 or so seems a very sensible size for a congregation!

more on church history

Part of the reason I've been thinking about teaching church history is that I hope to be tutoring in church history at one of the local theological colleges this year. This particular college has a number of church historians (all with PhDs in history!), and from my contact with them, I imagine they do a very good job of teaching the subject. But I can't imagine how! How do you teach 2000 years of history in one year without reducing it to a list of dates and doctrines? How do you provide some introduction to the skills of thinking historically within that context? How do you raise new questions, not just confirm old prejudices? I'm really looking forward to finding out!

being historical

I've been reflecting on the possibilities for teaching church history to ministers in training and lay people in churches. Friends in theological college have often complained about how bored they are by their church history subjects, and church history often only figures in sermons by way of anecdotes of doubtful veracity. On a more personal level, I've been asking myself how I use what I've learned in my years of studying obscure bits of the past to serve the broader Christian community.

Tentatively, I've been considering the value of a subject called something like 'Encountering church history in contemporary culture'. Most Australians only ever encounter church history through contemporary culture (for example, randomly, the Puritan Whiteadders in Blackadder, the upheavals of the Reformation in Elizabeth or Luther, heroic missionary endeavour in Molokai, the Mormons in South Park, or most obviously the DaVinci Code) and it seems vital to me that Christians have a set of skills with which to respond to these representations. Not simply the ability to test the historical accuracy of particular portrayals, but the ability to recognise how these portrayals reflect contemporary concerns.

The recent film Luther is a great example: Luther, while appropriately conflicted, is very much a SNAG. His concern for the poor and disadvantaged is centre stage. His responsibility for the slaughter of the peasants is skimmed over. He doesn't swear or drink lots of beer or smoke a pipe. Katie scrubs up, puts on a nice frock and romantic wooing ensues. The film isn't worthless, but it is as revealing about us as it is about the Reformation. To respond to it thoughtfully involves more than just uncritical acceptance or nitpicking about historical details. Recognising what we are comfortable celebrating and what we want to forget prompts really valuable reflection on our relationship with the church's past. So I'd love to develop a subject which encouraged Christians to think deeply about how to recognise and engage with church history as it is represented within our own culture.

FTA

I don't pretend to be an expert on economics, but I wasn't surprised by the news this morning that since Australia signed a Free Trade Agreement with the US, Australian exports to the US have 'plummeted'. Meanwhile, US exports to Australia have increased significantly. OK, it's early days, but plenty of real experts predicted that this is exactly what would happen. To quote an email circular I read recently, it's not rocket surgery.

resolving

I gave up on New Year's resolutions a few years ago. They were always exactly the same, and while that was good for my humility, it also suggested that resolutions weren't very effective in bringing about change! Yesterday, however, we returned from our Christmas break up in Brisbane, and (for once!) unpacked and put everything away neatly. Then I mixed up a beef, mustard and wine casserole, put Eva Cassidy in the CD player, sat down in the kitchen with a real coffee, opened my new journal and started writing. And as I sat there, I vowed to myself that this year I would not be too busy, anxious, materialistic or doubting to enjoy and be grateful for these simple delights. The sound of Eva grooving, the rich smell of casserole simmering, the enormous satisfaction of a tidy house and a new book in which to write... good gifts, given to be enjoyed!