Fr Gary's ramblings

Polling Day

2010-05-05T23:06:00.001+01:00

"This could be the closest election in a generation" exhorts David Dimbleby on the BBC trail for their election night coverage.

That certainly seems to be the view of many. A hung (or hanged) parliament seems very likely. Yet for those of us who have lived through the intrigues of previous projections, the reality is that there is only one poll that matters, and that is the one that takes place on polling day.

Whatever party one might support, whatever one hopes the outcome might be, whatever one might think of the party leaders, policies or PR, there is one thing for certain.

One of the great gifts we have been given, in a representative democracy is the opportunity to select those who lead and govern.

If this is as tight as so many pundits and commentators predict, then every vote is truly important.

In which case every one of us who can should use that right which has been entrusted to us.

So stop reading this, and go and vote.

Vote, vote, vote

2010-04-15T23:16:00.002+01:00

Religion and politics don't mix. Well, here's a real hostage to fortune then! Yet tonight a Pandora's box has been opened in the form of a live televised debate between the leaders of the three main political parties.

The compulsory disclaimer in all of this is that I've always tried very hard to be politically neutral in public. What fascinates me though about tonight's debate is whether this TV debating triptych just ends up being a triumph of style over substance?

My gut reaction is that now we have these debates, they are here to stay. There is something I regret about that. It is something of an 'Americanization' of the political process. That said, and in due deference to my American friends, there is also something fascinating about watching the spectacle. Generally, the quality of debate and interaction is better than that which we have normally seen over the pond.

Instant reaction does not necessarily translate into political momentum. So I'm a little amused by the quantity of insta-polls, twitter analysis, tag cloud thinking and 'readings' of posture and so on...

What I think might prove interesting is how this might eventually translates into opinion polls, and the most important poll of all, the general election itself. Is this an 'X-Factor' moment in the election process?

In all of this, I can't help but wonder if the real question is not who won and lost, but who gained the most, and who lost the most. That might well be a very fascinating thing to ponder. Both now, and in the debates to come.

Announcement

2010-03-21T11:15:00.008Z

I am delighted to tell you that I was able to announce this morning that I have accepted an invitation to become Team Rector of St Wilfrid's Harrogate.

After ten years in Paulsgrove there is inevitably a great deal of mixed emotion! I've had a fantastic time here, with a host of different challenges. I shall always be profoundly grateful for the experience, and for all who have helped both me and the parish in that time.

Further details of the date for the licensing in Harrogate and my final Sunday here should be available in the next week or so. Hopefully, nearer the time I will be able to send change of address cards, along with all the new contact details, including the inevitable new email address.

Thank you to you all for your support. I hope that I might see you 'up North'!

Exclusive inclusivity

2010-02-21T11:30:00.003Z

'When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, 'it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'

'The question is,' said Alice, 'whether you can make words mean so many different things.'

'The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'which is to be master -- that's all.'

Christianity is full of technical words. Think for a moment about how many you can come up with. Then think of how many others there must be.

If you want a great game, try getting a congregation to translate this into idiomatic english:

Then Jesus called his disciples together and said unto them: "What about you? Whom do you say that I am?" They answered him, saying, "You are the Christ, the eschatological manifestation of the kerygma that is the ground of our being, whose meaning we discover in our interpersonal relationships." And Jesus said unto them, "What?"

I agree that the technical language can sometimes be confusing. We've shied away from it, especially when that language needs explanation. There are times when we run away, because we're not sure what these words mean.

Even take the word "God". Ask 15 different theologians what (or who) God is, and I'll give you pretty good odds that you'll have 15 different answers of varying complexity.

For those of you who might be fans of Bultman's de-mythologizing methodolgy (formgeschichte) for reading scripture in an age of scientific rationalism, you'll recognize the problem. Who is Jesus? Who is God? What is the Church? What are the Sacraments? How can we read the Bible today? How can we 'do' theology today in an age which often wants to seek an easy answer?

At 'O' level Chemistry (that dates me...) electrons were gathered around a nucleus in shells. 2 electrons closest to the nucleus, then shells of 8, 8, 16 etc (I'm dredging this up from the back of my mind, so it might not be entirely accurate, but you'll get the picture). This was the scheme by which we answered the exam questions. We felt secure in our knowledge that this was the way that sub-atomic particles organized themselves.

The trouble was that when we came to 'A' level chemistry, we discovered that this picture wasn't just inaccurate, it was wholly wrong. (Go read about the Heisenberg uncertainty principle).

Now, for those of you gently dozing off and wondering where this discourse is going, here's the point. There is a lot of uncertainty in much, if not all science. It's not exact. It's not as exact as most people think it is. It's certainly not as exact as most people are told it is. We all know 2+2=4. But ask that question to a Professor of mathematics......

The more we study, grow and learn, the more complex, nuanced and intriguing the world is.

To put it another way, whenever I've taught or tutored those who want to deepen their knowledge of God, a key concept to get hold of is that 'there are no such things as easy answers'. In a hectic world that often seeks short, snappy, sound-bite solutions, that can be a difficult sell.

In theology, in our liturgy, in our discourse with the world and our own ecclesial conversations and controversies, this can be an even bigger problem. For the more difficult the problem, the more complex the solution, and the more tricky finding the right words can become.

Yet we still too often end up looking for an easy answer - because we somehow (perhaps because of an inculcated sense of scientific rationalism) hope that there must be an easy answer to any of the complex issues that confront us today.

To have a conversation in the first place requires some understanding of the words that we use. Not to obfuscate the question, but so that we can bring light to the situation, rather than heat. However, we also live in a world which has learnt to use complex words and clever sounding phrases not to bring light, but to cover ignorance and confusion. Or to produce a clever sentence or two that sounds like an answer, but actually isn't.

So we've now enjoined a whole 'other' jargon to our theological grammar which, more often than not, looks easy but isn't. And I'm guessing that I'm not alone in thinking that there is a direct ( perhaps inverse) relationship between the super-hyperbole of the modern jargon and the intelligence of the writer...

Perhaps the most difficult words I now consistently encounter is 'inclusive.' Whether in local or national government, education, or the Church, 'inclusive' is clearly a hot 'buzz-word'. But what on earth does it really mean? What sort of inclusion, and of whom, by whom, and for what purpose? All sorts of groups are falling over themselves to tell us how inclusive they are. But are they really and what do they really mean?

If I go on an 'all inclusive' holiday, what does that mean? Tour operators use that phrase as a code to mean that flights, accommodation, meals and drinks are all covered in the advertised price. But does that mean that I can take any flight (in any class of travel), or choose any hotel to stay in (of any quality)?

No, most people know that's not, in reality, quite what travel companies mean. The term doesn't mean free for all, or even choose your own package. If we read on in the small print for such vacations, we soon find out that our 'all inclusive' doesn't necessarily cover everything we first thought it would.

The choice of meals is a more limited selection, only certain drinks are available at certain times, or that excursions aren't included (the list normally goes on). In fact most 'all inclusive' holidays would better be described as 'not quite as inclusive holidays' or more simply, 'some things are in the price and some things are not' holidays. In which case how different is an 'inclusive' holiday to an 'exclusive' holiday?

For I'm told that on really exclusive holidays, the stuff you get thrown in (for free, or in the price depending on your view) is much greater (in quality, variety and availability) than its cheeper cousin. Where's my free bathrobe, chauffeur limousine transfer, upgrade to a suite, personal butler and private pool in my £250 'all inclusive' holiday? I've known some people be bitterly dissapointed. They never read the small print!

What 'inclusive' often really seams to mean is 'this-is-on-my-terms, what you might want or need isn't necessarily included'. It's why I think people who talk about their 'inclusivity' are often subjective. I respect (some of) the concepts they might hold dear (even if I might profoundly disagree) - but I think that they too often end up being very selective in what they really mean. It's a bit like getting that new gadget home that works 'straight out of the box' only to find, in very tiny print, the words 'batteries not included'.

Let's say I set up a political party, one which I tell you is 'fabulously inclusive'. Does that mean that it is a party which can embrace everything? Is it a home for the far-left and the far-right and all stops in between? Would our 'inclusive' tax policy of 'everyone pays the same,' lets say 20% of income, be fair? But don't forget, whatever you might dislike about it, I've sold it to you as being inclusive. Now you really don't want to be non-inclusive do you???

Every society has boundaries. Yet 'inclusive' seems so often to be sold as 'no boundaries' but really means 'my boundaries, not the old set boundaries' and that, I think, is where the problems really begin.

If someone wants an 'inclusive church' what does that mean? Can I believe anything and still be a member? Do I have to be a Christian to be a member? Can I join if I am an atheist? Or do I just need to agree on every point with the person who tells me this is 'inclusive'?

Now you and I know that, at least in the Church of England, "inclusive" is a buzz-word, a code, a phrase which means "liberal about X" But is that liberal liberalism, or exclusive liberalism? (Now the semantic games begin). Is the truly 'inclusive church' a place for biblical fundamentalists, ultra conservative catholics and post-christian theists? Can those 'in favour' and 'not in favour' (of anything) join? Or is that a recipe for confusion and division? Or is it just a section of the Church for a group of like-minded people who believe the same things, and if you don't agree...? Is 'inclusive' a word which, in its application in this context means nothing more than 'you're in my gang'?

Can we claim to be 'inclusive' just because we say we are; when we are, in fact, exclusive? Is an 'inclusive church' a dishonestly 'exclusive' church (or at least one which isn't quite as 'all inclusive' as it first sounds, but which is quite different when we read the small print)? Is 'inclusive church' just a semantic name change: if you approve of everything that the rest of the church doesn't, then this is the place for you?

I worry that there's an ever deeper problem with this code-language. "Inclusive" and "Church" are oxymorons. To be part of the Church, you have to be baptized. There's nothing remotely novel or conservative in that proposition. That's the understanding of almost all mainstream Christian Churches. So, if you're not baptized, you're not in. Is that inclusion, or exclusion? Beleieve me there are now 'Christian' churches in America where they've moved the font (it speaks of rejection and exclusion). Hmmm.

Wouldn't it be more inclusive to give communion to anyone who turns up (an 'open-table' policy, just pop that into google)? Should the receiving of the sacrament of the altar be limited to the baptized (those who are baptized and admitted to communion; those who are baptized and confirmed)? Am I making the Church inclusive if I give communion to everyone regardless of baptism, or am I creating something which may appear inclusive, but which by doing so, redefines what the Church is, or even might be un-Church? (Since the Church has normally been defined as the Baptized gathered people of God, or even the gathering of the baptized in Eucharistic assembly). To use de Lubac's dictum, the Eucharist makes the Church. Can that celebration become so inclusive, that it might stop being Church, might even stop being Christian, at least in terms that we understand as being orthodox?

Take another example. What if ordination is limited to one set of people, isn't that just horribly exclusive? If selection conferences will not recommend anyone for ordination who have not been baptized, that's not very inclusive, is it? Why not go the whole hog and say ordination isn't necessary in order to preside at the Holy Communion. It is an idea that floats around in some circles. Isn't that more inclusive? Even if you aren't even baptized, you can preside - no hierarchy required. Now, isn't that forming a truly radically inclusive Church? Anyone can have a go! There's no patriarchal exclusive hierarchical approach here! There's no boundaries! No qualification required! All humanity is equally welcome! It's what Jesus would do...

Except its not. Jesus, I'd want to argue, is radically exclusive. He is different. He shatters the boundaries of society. He doesn't conform to the standards of his day. He treats women and children in a way unthinkable for the time. He enrages the religious authorities. He is the ultimate radical. He is God. He transforms. He re-orders. He re-orders to what he wants, what those around him need. He does not re-order to what those around him simply want, or to what we today might want.

He doesn't call everyone to be a disciple. He certainly doesn't call everyone to be an Apostle. He frequently tells us that not everyone can or should follow him. Remember, that Jesus primary mission is not to everyone. It was to his own people. He didn't come to call the whole world (that's a much later notion). He came to save the people who were his own - the Jews of his day. That's why the first apostolic council had such a row. Could gentiles be Christians? Go read Acts. It's fascinating.

So when we today ask the fatuous 'what would Jesus do?' the response should often be "I have no idea, and neither do you, but if you spend a considerable amount of time in prayer and study, you might work something out, but you certainly won't get the answer in five minutes (see the post above, and the very funny Mitchell and Webb sketch). I snigger mainly because the answer too often heard is "What Jesus would do is what I want to do," when very often scripture says he did the opposite.

Too often, I fear, 'inclusivity' is used as a poor cover for gnostic relitivism. That's to say, 'let's try to ditch the difficulties 'cos I've got the answer, it works for me, and I can make the bible, the tradition and the sacraments work for me. It's what God has told me he wants'. That's gnosticism. You can see it so often in people's approach to scripture: "I don't like that bit, so I cut it out. Then the bible works for me." That's theological relitivism. Not a revealed religion, but a convenience christianity.

Well, there are bits of scripture and tradition that we all find difficult, and times we all run counter to what they might say and where they might point us. But we can't just cheat, cut them out, throw them away and pretend they never existed. To do that would really leave us in a 'make it up as you go along' Church. But Jesus doesn't advocate making it up as he goes along, so as to provide an inchoate faith. Indeed Jesus seeks always to reveal, in continuity with what has gone before.

The Church is a bounded community - even a very broad Church like the CofE. That's part of our patrimony. There is a lee-way where we can be different but run along together, each making space for the other. But, and it's a big but, there are some boundaries. For we can inclusivise all we like, we can demolish all the boudaries we like, we can let anyone we like do anything we like. But is what's left Christian, is it Catholic, is it Holy, is it Apostolic? Is it ordered? Is it a Church which takes its cue from revelation, from God. Or is it a Church which takes its cue from me, how I feel, what I want. These words and these concepts matter becuase they tell us: is this the Church of God, or is it the Church of 'people like me' where everything fits what I want it to be, even if it might not be of God?

I for one would rather be in the Church of Jesus Christ, than the all-inclusive Church of Humpty Dumpty where faith and doctrine, orders and sacraments mean just what I want them to be.

Your opinion matters?

2010-02-10T01:03:00.002Z

It General Synod week.

So there's already a topic to avoid. The blogging world has no doubt gone into overdrive. Perhaps I might be tempted later...

Over the last few days, I've been on a post-Christmas 'staycation'. It's been huge fun and allowed me to indulge in surfing news sites and watching rolling news.

What amuses and infuriates, surprises and astounds me is the increasingly widespread use of 'comment' (for which read speculation) rather than 'fact'. By that, I mean what seems to be a growing reliance in the media on the use of both 'official' commentators and public feedback.

The advent of rolling news, the internet, blogs, twitter etc all mean that we live in a more interconnected world than ever before. We might like that, or we might not. Yet the sheer speed at which we all seem to need to respond to any issue poses some difficulties. My hunch is that the ever quicker pace is storing up some trouble.

Once upon a time, not that long ago, TV only had three channels. As a child (not that long ago....) I remember BBC2 didn't start until mid-afternoon. BBC1 didn't broadcast until nine in the morning, as did ITV. All the channels stopped somewhere around midnight. If you wanted news, you normally bought a newspaper, listened to the hourly bulletin on the radio or watched on of the three bulletins on the television each day.

Now, well it's all very different.

Yet I cannot help wondering if the decline in newspaper readership, in the viewing and listening figures for main news and current affairs programmes is due, at least in part to a decline in the quality of reflection? Where once, opinion pieces were incisive dissections of the weighty matters of the day, often hidden away in deference to 'hard news', 'news' seems today to be often little more than 'soft news'. For some publications and channels, reporting celebrity culture and tittle tattle seems much more important that informing, educating and reporting. What passes for comment seems often little more than hastily contrived padding.

Yet we are driving that trend. The 'inclusivisation' of news means that it is now my right to make my opinion felt. Where once the letters page was the only way of the general public commenting, now every newspaper and TV news website comes with a feedback form (dear God, even this blog has one). Newscasters enjoin us to send them a text, an email, a twitter message or to post to their bulletin boards letting them know what we think. Go read them. They're fascinating. The informed and uninformed, the courteous and impolite, the insightful and the deranged sit neatly side by side. Each, it would seem, equal to the other. Some would say that this is real democracy in action. A place where every voice is heard.

Yet are they? Does your opinion matter? Does my opinion matter?

"...And we'll be keeping you up to date with further developments on this important breaking story as it develops. Many of you have been getting in touch to tell us what you think of the Government plan for debt reduction and the nature of fiscal policy against the national debt as a proportion of GDP as we've been hearing about. Mrs Shirley Stubblethwaite of Oldingham has been in touch to tell us that 'tiddles has been stuck up a tree this morning and we can't get him down'. Well, thanks for that Mrs Stubblethwaite. Now we cross live to talk to the Prime Minister...."

Well, it's not that far off the truth...

Part of the intent of this blog was to vent about ignorance and it's notorious sister, vapid popularity. We're all capable of it. I'm as much a victim as anyone else. I did point this out in the post above. But my contention remains that in a world of fast paced response, we don't always stop to think. We indulge in a sort of electronic 'foot in mouth'.

Blogs and all the rest become ways of shouting at others, rather than reasoned ways of debating, educating, informing, growing, learning. A blunt instrument of megaphone theologizing.

How many of us, if we're honest, have bashed out a reply to an email, or posted a comment somewhere, or sent a text message that we've regretted thirty seconds after we've sent it? All because we didn't think [Note to self - remember this when, of an evening after a couple of stiff gins you sit down in front of the keyboard]. If that is true - then I wonder how many column inches and pieces to camera fall into the same bracket?

A great friend of mine has seriously warned me that writing a blog can be dangerous. "What you write can come back to haunt you," he said. He's right. Partly because we live in a world where what we said last year, or twenty years ago is so often used as the fatuous proof that we just keep changing our minds and therefore can't be trusted. Here I always feel sorry for politicians. Perhaps we all needs to grow up and recognize that our thoughts and opinions grow and change, become more nuanced and developed or even regress as we mature and confront the world in all its complexity. Perhaps it is time to take a stand. I may be cut down, or in twenty years time called names. But enough is enough. To be bold - there's too much crap allowed to pass today.

Blogs can be dangerous if we post before thinking, are libelous, or simply forget that just because my words appear for you to read that means imperiously, I must therefore be right.

Yet the pace of (electronic) life seems to want to rob us of the necessary time and space to reflect before we open our mouths to let out ideas and opinions be tested. This applies to clergy too who have found that their wistful idlings land them in hot water. My own experience (for what it's worth) of dealing with the press tell me that this is a much more tricky than many of us ever expect.

All media is dangerous if it fools us into thinking that what we think is important, even when it is no more than ignorant opinion. That's the rub. Have we really thought about what we shout about? Is the current infatuation with the importance of each opinion a sign of the further rise of our own idolatry of individualism?

"So Gary, I think from your symptoms it would appear you've got diahorrea. What do you think? Well, doctor, I've searched the internet and 72% of blog respondents in my own online poll think I've actually got megalomania."

Isn't the reality that often we skate on the pond of the insanely superficial, blinded by popularity, desperate for affirmation, unable to take expert opinion and constantly seeking a fleeting momentary (and therefore often false, palatable, transient) consensus? There are more resources at the disposal of the media, society and the church than ever before. Yet we are trapped in the same 15 minute groundhog loop of what we all hope will boost our ratings. Shame on us. Depth and thought has been sacrificed. Alleluia! Vacuous self-righteousness is our song...

Today the Archbishop of Canterbury has delivered an extraordinary, erudite, and insightful Presidential address to Synod. I think that it is one of the most profound statements available today. Easy armchair insta-jerk critics will tell you that the Archbishop does nothing but say 'keep talking' without ever reaching a conclusion. They will tell you that he never wants to get to an answer. I think that the real challenge is not to reach an easy, illiberal conclusion in just 20 specious minutes. For illiberality requires you to agree and answer now, before we move past the moment of an easy self-serving, "it works for me" decision. Real Western rational academic (proper) liberalism, real orthodoxy, real depth, means taking time, even if this is superficially costly in the here and now. Too many liberals, too many pseudo-catholics, too many of us all have failed to understand this critique of facile thought.

The Christian faith took centuries to posit an answer to the great Christological conundrum. How dare we believe that we can answer the difficult questions of today in 20 seconds? That is the result of a culture where my opinion matters more than yours. It is two dimensional thinking. If only I could be that certain....

Real Anglican patrimony is much, much, much deeper than this.

Press the red button now, send an email or text. Your opinion matters? Even if it is vacuous?

2010-01-18T23:13:00.001Z

1. I should be doing the ironing (which I hate).

2. Mondays are my day off, so this feels like work.

3. I've always sworn that I'd never write a blog.

So, you might ask, what is this all about?

Well, now I've turned 40 (cue much yawning) I find I get outraged about anything and everything. This is a result of being middle aged.

So as an overweight, greying, liturgist, parish priest, ecclesiologist, living in a 'socio-economically deprived area', overworked, underpaid etc, it must be the time to start a blog.

Why? Well, in part, becuase there is so much drivel out there. That's not to say all blogs are bad. That's not to say all clergy bogs are bad. But, dear God, there is some clap-trap out there.

The prime motivation for so many clergy blogs is the ability to rant. There are clearly some rules:

1. One should have a sickly sense of piety that should make your reader retch.

2. One should be pompous.

3. One should blog, in minute detail about the most boring aspects of each day.

4. One should use one's blog to denigrate awkward people/parishioners/clergy/national institutions/culture etc etc etc

5. NEVER EVER let your lack of knowledge or understanding get in the way of presenting ignorant opinions as fact.

6. The archdeacon doesn't check blogs. So hopefully he'll never read this, but I will be able to tell him how wildly popular/engaged in outreach/freshly expressed/relevant etc my parish is.

7. Posts, pictures etc will wildly inflate my own ego/guarantee preferment/show that I have actually done some work this week.

So, in the light of this learned experience here are my rules:

1. There won't be a post every day. I do have some real work to do.

2. I'll only post when I've got something that might be worthwhile saying.

3. I'll be tongue in cheek at times. Occasionally be pointed. I may even be sharp or rude. But hey, that's what everyone else does.

4. In a world where (ignorant) opinion is monarch (I am indebted to a wise clergyman for this phrase), I'll try to think before I post. Even if, at times, I get it wholly wrong.

5. I'll try to avoid telling you things that I'm not supposed to discuss, even if that means I'm boring, or even have a sense of propriety or confidentiality.

So soon there'll be the first proper post.