Changing faith

So I have been obessing over a song I heard this week - a version of "A Sound of Silence" by Disturbed. It is a cover of the Simon and Garfunkel song

The original song is incredible, and still makes the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. The performance is perfect (as always). The lyrics are very contemporary, the music is not, but still works - it is still a good song. The original is as old as me (which is old!) - 1963, since which time the music world has changed several times. It is unrecognisable from the world that song was originally written in.

The Disturbed version bring out (for me) new nuances and ideas from it. And makes my entire spine shiver. Because it is totally right for the song, honouring the original, but also fresh.


My faith is based on Judaism - which is 6,000 years old. Reunderstood as Christianity 2,000 years ago. Most of my theological expression and ideas - most of the language of my faith - is no more than 150 years old. It has been my faith for a bit over 40 years.

And yet, if my faith is not re-envisioned, with respect for the history and tradition, but with a distinct focus on what is right not, it is dead. A living faith is one that is prepared to listen again, re-interpret. Of course, not all new ideas are right, but to be open for the new is so important.

The fact that my faith has origins 6,000 years ago doesn't mean there is nothing new to find, to understand. In fact, it means that there is good solid tradition on which to understnad the faith TODAY in the context of the world now.

Because without that, I would never have given the Quakers a try.

What does it mean to be British?

Or even English?

This is important to consider, as there has been so much abusive and hateful discussion around this. And I was recently made to consider this, and it made me think.

Well, we are made up of Celts - from various European sources - and then Roman, from Italy. Of course, the Roman influences also drew in from all parts of the empire, so that is itself quite a mix.

Of course, you also have the Angles and the Saxons, from what is now Germany, and that area. And then there were the Vikings who add to the complex mix we have - from Scandinavia. So even this far (lets say 1500 years ago) there is a good range of European blood in the genetic make up of the "British".

There is a different between "British" and "English", but the pot is the same, the actual mix being different. Of course there is variation across the country as well - with all of these roots, there will be a whole range of combinations.

Then we have the Norman Invasion - 1066 and all that - and there is a strong input of French blood into the mix. In fact, because of the nature of this invasion, many of the "British Aristocracy" are actually Norman by origin - or if not by origin, there is almost certainly Norman blood in the lines. Completing the European mix, and meaning that being English - from 800 years ago - meant being very strongly European.

Does it end there? Of course not. As we move onto the time of Empire, we spread across the world, and - consensually or not - there was Asian, Indian, African and Carribean blood included in the mix. Like it or not, being "British" means being global.


Some of those who want to claim being "English" as special might point to the fact that we are "Christian". Which is an interesting claim - given that less that 1M go to Anglican churches (the national church), and maybe 5% of the population regularly attend church*. Now I am not going to argue that you have to go to a church or similar to be a Christian, but to claim that we are a "Christian Country" when such a low proportion actually participate.

Of course, we have always had a challenging association with the Christian Church - when the Catholic church arrived, we disagreed (and conceded). We were sometimes welcoming reformers (and sometimes throwing them out), while eventually rejecting the Catholic authority entirely.

I think we are - by nature - more a folk religion people. I don't mean this disparagingly. I mean we like our religion to be rooted in here - this place, this land - and we love our traditions. We combine these and have something that might use the language of Christianity, but is a very British version of it. Which is very right.

But - crucially - it also means that we need to listen to other ideas, other challenges - especially, but not exclusively - other religions that have that sense of place. Or that sense of tradition, rite and practice.

Oddly enough, Islam seems like a religion we should accept and embrace, as embodying so much of what we embrace as our religion.


It is almost as if the real problem these people have with being British or not-British is something completely different.


*The figures are really difficult to identify - those who identify as Christian, those who attend annually, those who attend most weeks? I have gone with 5% as a reasonable approximation for the portion who might be actively involved in their church. It could well be up to 10% or even 15%, but the argument remains the same.

Community

When I have joined other churches, there is a comversation that happens and goes two ways.

Firstly, people ask "are you new in the area? What did you do previously?" - the process of discovering what I have done, what I might be able to bring to the place.

The other side is my discussions and telling those in the church what I can do and what areas I might be interested in.

It is the process of working out where I might fit, how I might be involved, because involvement is important - and I have always been one to get stuck in and put my skills and talents to use.

When I joined the Quakers it was different.

People asked me where I had come from, what my history was. That is natural, and is part of what I ask people who are new. My response was "I am not ready to talk about that yet" - which was true, as the few years before that were quite painful.

And the people just accepted that and we moved on. Because my experience is that in the Quakers what is critical is the "now", the immanent community that happens when a group meet together.

Just for clarification, I have given some of my story since, and there are roles I have taken on within the group. But that has been my choice - and I wouldn't ever deny that there is work to be done and roles that need filling.

What has struck me in the Quakers is this sense of "now". For the hour that we sit together, we are a community. The past (and the future) are less relevant than what God is doing with each person now, at this point in time.

That is my perspective at least. And it is a positive reflection, because it means that I can grow at my pace. As can each other person.

"Don't you miss preaching?"

As some of you may know, I used to preach a lot. And the truth is, I did enjoy it - preparation and preaching it. Do I miss it? Well, yes and no.

Think is, I was reasonably OK at it, but I have always argued (when asked) that preaching - the traditional sermon - is not a good thing. It is not good in terms of a teaching a congregation, or any group. Teaching is far better done by engagement, discussion, encouraging learners to explore what they are trying to learn. The talk - without the drive or occasion to properly engage with this - is a very poor approach.

Of course sermons are not just about teaching - they are also about exhortation, encouragement. And the sermon is not really that good for that either. As a starting point, I have heard very few sermons that are actually delivered in an exciting way, in a way that actually invogorates the listeners to do something. But also, in the context of a church service, this can easily get lost in the other parts of the service.

I have - in my time - done a range of other things in the "sermon" slot. And I think they start to address these concerns - using different approaches, asking questions, exploring the passages or the messages in different ways. And that is always interesting (where I am allowed to do it).

But I am still not convinced that the sermon is a valid "thing" any more. It was, at a time when people were less bombarded with information, ideas, images.

So, is "not having a sermon" an improvement over sermons that might not be ideal? As a preacher, I learnt a lot while preparing talks, and I can do a lot of that anyway. The production of a sermon is not entirely relevant to the work to understand a passage or an idea. And yes, in my sermoning time, I have learnt how to do this, and so do this when a difficult passage challenges me, or needs addressing.

What about others? Well, the Quaker way is out of silence. And I believe that the silence, the contemplation, the waiting and not talking, is also a way of learning, engaging. And there are other places to get insights, learning and exploration. More and more people get insights online. There is a training centre for all sorts of courses, but actually, it is up to the individuals to find places to learn, to engage.

And the idea that a talk, coming from (pretty academic) exploration of a passage or theme, is the only way that people can grow is a problem. OK, if you want to learn academic theology, there is a need for didactic approaches. But Christians are not called to be academic theologians. We are called to engage with the Divine, to learn from God, to grow in our spiritual life. We will do that in different ways.

So the truth is, I like the theological engagements I get in all sorts of places (twitter, Ship-of-Fools) - this is answering questions that people are asking. But I don't really miss either the hard work of preparation sermons, or the process of listening to other peoples (the short 2-3 minute insights in a Quaker meeting are more like my style).

Maybe we all need to move beyond the sermon.

Quaker silence is not sacred silence.

Quaker silence is different.

Quaker silence is not worship. In churches where there is some silence, it is usually part of the worship. It is like a song or a reading or a prayer or a sermon. It is something "sacred" like the other parts of the service - something to be enjoyed or engaged with itself.

Quaker silence is different.

Qaker silence is not a barrier. So often I have seen and experiences silence being used to say "Don't talk to me. Don't engage with me. I am contemplating silently". Iti s used as a barrier to keep others out, keep them away from your personal experience of the Divine.

Quaker silence is a different thing. That is my experience anyway. It is a starting point, not a destination. We arrive in meeting without prepared talks, prayers, readings, songs. We arrive as we are.

That is why we sit in silence - to wait, so see what comes from that. Because we come with nothing but ourselves, the ministries can be incoherent, banal, obtuse and sometimes irrelevant to us. But sometimes - often, in my experience - they help me in my engagement with the Divine, with God.

And sometimes, we are silent for the whole hour, because sometimes there is nothing else needed but me and God.

Welcome to a new Blog

The title of this blog is a comment I made on twitter about the Quakers. I have spent a lot of time in churches - particularly Anglican ones - where I have been encouraged to be more like Jesus, which meant - well it was always vague. Always something different to what I was doing.

In the Quakers, however, I have to shut up for an hour and not hit people. Well, OK, there is a lot more than that, but this is what I am currently focussing on, and it is surprisingly difficult. But it is achieveable, so feels like something I can genuinely aspire to.

That makes it far better.

That is why I have found a home in the Quakers. I can explore my faith without pressure.

So this blog is about thoughts and ideas from the Quakers and the meetings. It it NOT official Quaker insights - it is my insights.

Thank you.