Christians and Climate Change

The other day I heard about some Christians who were sceptics about climate change. Not having had a chance to talk to them myself, I am not sure of the grounds for their objections, but I have come across it before and online. As I am teaching a course on ethics at the moment, it led me to wonder why the case for action on climate change isn't compelling for some people - and especially for those who describe themselves as Christians.

At the same time, I have seen plenty of negative comments on social media from the more right-wing accounts (which sometimes purport to represent the views of "Christian" England) about those protesting about climate change. It is also remarkable how often Greta Thunberg triggers white males of about my age into rage and abuse, but that's a different blog post.

If I was taking my students through this issue, we might consider some of the classic approaches to ethical questions and see how they might shed some light on all of this. Here goes.

Most green campaigners put the issue of climate change and global warming at the forefront of their campaigns, headlines and literature. If we don't act now on CO2 emissions, the result will be that the planet warms, the weather will change and it will have catastrophic effects, including sea levels rising, droughts, loss of food supply, habitable land and much more. This is, of course, based on the fact that the earth can sustain our life due to the "greenhouse effect"  - a blanket of CO2 which prevents temperature extremes both high and low. Shifting the balance of CO2 in the atmosphere through human activity will produce devastating results.

At this point we have to say that the overwhelming consensus of science is that this is a correct analysis. The exact outcomes still have some uncertainty, and the resulting weather may be counter-intuitive, such as more rain and even colder weather in some parts of the globe. However, the case has been made over and over again, and is very widely accepted.

So why do some vociferous people reject it and try to seek out the scientists who might wish to cast doubt? One reason might be vested interest, of course. Decisive and effective action will be costly financially and possibly politically too. It also has to be said that there are some Christians with very particular views about the end of the world who don't see this world as worth worrying about, as it will all end soon and not be here, so its material welfare is irrelevant.

However, I think a big factor feeding into climate scepticism is that the arguments for action on climate change are, as we have seen, usually based on predictions of what is going to happen. In ethics, this kind of argument is referred to as a consequentialist approach. This is a way of thinking that decides the right or best course of action, based on the anticipated outcomes from various choices. Put simply you look at option A and B. Option A means X will happen; option B means Y will happen. X and Y are then compared as to which is expected to produce the most happiness / harmony / love  (depending on the version of this approach you are using) and the best anticipated outcome determines the best choice. As you might already suspect, this can lead to some debatable "means to an end" justifications for certain actions or choices. Just think about the reasons for using nuclear weapons in World War 2, which stated that however awful, they were better than the alternatives.

However, in everyday life, we make choices on this basis all of the time - probably without even thinking about it very much. But when it comes to big issues, you can start to see the difficulty. How do we know that the predictions of outcomes are accurate? Life is not a simple mechanical machine, where a force in one place produces a movement or action somewhere else in a predictable and repeatable way. The complexities of human societies, weather systems, economies, etc. mean that such arguments are always open to challenge. And so, social media continues to be full of people convinced that climate change generated by human activity is a hoax or even a conspiracy, whatever the much better-informed scientists say.

However, for me as a Christian, this kind of argument is not the only - or even the most compelling - argument to be concerned for the planet and to be taking action. I believe the scientific case for action on climate change has been completely convincing for years, but that isn't they key point here. Even if the scientists were wrong, Christians should still be deeply concerned about the planet and making choices to conserve, recycle, and consume less. 

The starting point for this is the notion of stewardship. There is a repeated theme throughout the Bible that human beings are not the 'owners' of the earth, but stewards. The resources we have are entrusted into our care. I don't believe the creation accounts in Genesis literally, but they give a sense and definition to the relationship that humanity should have with the rest of the created order. As a poet put it in Psalm 24:1 "The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it". As such we should have a sense of accountability for how creation has been treated at the hands of humanity, and a sense of responsibility to tend and nurture it, irrespective of what the graphs and thermometers say. (The ethics folks might suggest this is a deontological argument - deon is Greek for duty or obligation.)

Using the same kind of argument, Christians also have an obligation to their neighbour. The parable of the Good Samaritan shows Jesus giving the notion of neighbour a much wider definition than people who are like "us" or who are simply in close proximity relationally or socially. Many of our global neighbours are already experiencing climate change in ways we haven't seen first hand in the UK. Protecting the climate will protect some of the poorest and most vulnerable people. It is a sad irony that the very people who fulminate most about migration to the UK are also often those who question climate change or scorn those who protest about it, not realising that lack of action is highly likely to prompt huge migrations of people in future decades. But I'm drifting into consequences there, so I'll move on...

A second strand to consider is the notion of being a consumer. Living in a western society, it is very difficult not to be a large consumer of goods, energy and even food. A tension I have often discussed with Christian friends has been about finding the right balance between continuing to play a constructive part in society (rather than go completely off-grid) and yet somehow challenge the prevailing culture of ever-growing consumption. What are we being shaped into by the trends and expectations of our world if all we live for is to have more stuff? Surely there has to be an aspect of the Christian life which a the very least hankers after something more enduring - what Jesus in the Gospels calls treasure in heaven? I haven't resolved that for myself, but engaging with the question is important, as can help to stop us simply being carried by the tide. (Asking questions like this starts to bring us into an area called virtue ethics - what sort of people do we want to be or become? What choices, practices and lifestyle might continue to express, reinforce and embed that different set of priorities?)

Furthermore, for people with a religious perspective, the extinction of species and the decimation of habitat by human activity should always be a concern. If the diverse beauty and wonder of the universe is a manifestation of divine creativity, then anything that degrades it has to be challenged. It is not only a breach of the responsibility entrusted to us, but it is a kind of denial of the image of that infinitely creative God planted within us. 

I do believe the science - it's actually been around for several decades. I do think that we are on the brink of inflicting irreversible damage to the climate, and I support urgent action to address it here and around the world. But even if I'm wrong on that, there are strong theological and ethical arguments for making choices personally and communally to limit consumption, care for the environment, and make choices that reduce the impact and footprint we leave on the wonderful planet that has been entrusted to us. 

Church Buildings, Streaming and Lockdown

For about the last 40 years as a youth leader, ordinand and clergyperson, I've been constantly preaching the message that the church is not a building, but people. It's a jumping record (if you do vinyl) or a loop (if you're digital) that I intend to maintain whilst I am still capable of coherent speech. In fact, no-one ever really contradicts me, but in the way churches behave and prioritise their activity and energy, you might come to a different conclusion.

This has all come up again, because clergy have been instructed not to go into their buildings regularly - whether to pray or worship along, or to stream services online. In reaction, some go into their churches anyway, some have gone to significant lengths to make a room in their vicarage look ecclesiastical for streaming, some just keep their heads down, others of us have accepted that something more simple might have to suffice.

This has prompted a number of discussions on Facebook and Twitter, and some significant heat has been generated:

• about the importance of buildings as holy places
• about a sense that prayers / communion in a kitchen/living room/study are somehow less legitimate than those "in church".
• about streamed worship and what sort of church it creates / shapes
• about the authority of the archbishops to prohibit clergy from using the church buildings entrusted to them.

Buildings

Let's take church buildings first. It is clearly the case that specific, dedicated buildings are not essential for the church to be authentically the church. To say otherwise would be dismiss the life of the church in the early centuries of its existence, along with persecuted churches through the centuries, not to mention the many congregations (including in the C of E) which gather in school halls or community buildings week by week. There are many more pressing theological, ecclesiastical and social questions that are a much greater threat to the church's legitimacy than the buildings being utilised.

That's not to say that buildings are irrelevant or trivial, but they are not an end in themselves, and they are not fundamental to the church's being. At a practical level, a church building is useful - it's a venue, it's a known location, and usually provides an instantly recognisable location and focal point for identifying the church's presence. And that has a profound symbolism - church buildings are often viewed with affection by the local community because of its associations with sad and happy memories in the lives of their families and friends. Go to any churchyard on a fine day, and you'll probably see others placing flowers, looking for their ancestors or just remembering. This can have a profound meaning - especially in communities where generations of the same family have lived.

At an aesthetic level, Church buildings can be beautiful symbols and pointers to the beliefs of the community that use them, and to the God who is worshipped within them. Some of the greatest art, sculpture, architecture and stained glass have been created to that end. The 800th anniversary of laying the foundations of Salisbury Cathedral has just happened, and that's an example of a structure that for many points not only to the sky, but also to God himself.

The trickier bit is when people start to talk about sacred space, so-called 'thin places', or stones that have been prayed in for a thousand years. Anyone who has been to an ancient Christian place of pilgrimage or spirituality will appreciate this. I have had that sense visiting Lindisfarne and Iona, for example, but even in these cases we need to be careful. Are we saying that somehow God is more present in these locations, or that the barriers are thinner or lesser?  Are we finding that these locations are especially good at helping us discern the God who, in fact, is just as present everywhere else? To put it more technically, is there something ontological about a 'holy place'?

My own view is that there is nothing ontological about holy places, but the significance of the events that created those locations in the first place, and the long history of pilgrimage, worship and devotion around them creates its own dynamic of expectation and receptivity. People certainly seem to have experiences of God in a closer and more immediate way in these places, but that doesn't mean that they are intrinsically different to anywhere else. Don't get me wrong, I don't see the experience of sacred space as insignificant, but it shouldn't create a spiritual hierarchy in our heads that effectively says God doesn't turn up in certain places, or at least he turns up in a superior way in some places, rather than others.

Coming back to today's debate, it is undeniable that many church buildings are very helpful in preparing people to pray, in providing visual symbols, pointers and signs for worship, and being places of encounter. Having said that, in my 8 years as a stewardship adviser, I met a number of vicars, church wardens and treasurers of village churches, who would have been glad to be rid of a listed building with a 6-figure repair bill so that they could meet instead in the village hall.

I have also been reflecting on whether the passions circulating about buildings also have something to say about our own faith development. It's probably fair to say that the most significant moments in my own faith and in discovering my vocation happened on CYFA ventures in hired school premises, or in youth group meetings in church halls. Over the years, I have been aware that I don't associate church buildings with important formative moments or key periods in the development of my own faith. As a result I have had to listen carefully and learn about people's love for, attachment to, and sensitivities about church buildings in order to understand and engage with their spiritual life, but it doesn't come naturally to me.

More positively, I see the current restrictions as an opportunity to rediscover God in everyday life, in people, and in unlikely places - even my study. After all, although Jesus did spend time in the Temple, he invested an awful lot of it in other people's dining rooms, and the eucharist was not instituted in a church or temple, but a room borrowed for a group meal. Perhaps there's something new for all of us in that.

Streaming

I saw a Twitter conversation about the term 'virtual worship'. I think one of the official C of E channels had used the term, and some people felt it suggested a contrast between online and 'real' worship. Obviously there is a difference in the means of delivery of worship, but how has that changed our experience and engagement with worship.

As a minister, my experience is primarily in putting together and sharing online worship. The thing I am missing is probably best summed up with the word rapport. There is the absence of the more formal liturgical response - no "and also with you" or "amen" can be heard in from of my computer. I miss the nods and smiles when I welcome people to services; I miss the occasional chuckle or even comment back during sermons; I miss the handshakes of the Peace, I miss placing holy communion in people's hands, and sharing in singing together the songs of worship. Facebook Live, YouTube and Zoom can compensate for some of that, but it's not the same. If you're not religious, compare having a coffee, a meal or a drink with your mates on Zoom versus sitting with them in the cafe, bar or restaurant.

Of course, in church we're also asking questions like "is it real worship"? I think it is "real" whenever people sincerely engage with it wherever they are, but whether it could ever be normative is a different question. As it's all very new and feels a strange and temporary way of being, our little YouTube sessions feel like a stop-gap measure. Involving others in online worship is more complicated, and requires a certain amount of technical ability and resources. I have been keen not to end up doing "the Mike Peatman show" on a Sunday, but avoiding that has resulted in me having to spend more time with iMovie. Furthermore, we have to remember that significant numbers of churchgoers are either not online at all, or don't feel confident enough with technology. We are currently sending out prayers and sermons on paper to 14 people, which is about 1/3 of our regular congregation.

I haven't gone down the line of streaming communion services where I am doing it on my own. There is a theological justification for doing a 'solo' communion - joining in the worship of heaven and the worldwide church, and for my more catholic colleagues it is an offering for the church and the world whether present or not. For me any celebration of communion is a corporate activity - I don't celebrate the eucharist, we celebrate it and the priest presides at the celebration. With no people physically present in the room, that sense is diminished, as well the fact that no one else can contribute in sharing the liturgy, readings, prayers or anything else involved without a level of multi-camera tech I don't possess. Just as with the other streamed acts of worship, I have a discomfort with worship where the human focus is on one person.

Authority

This is going on a bit, so I'll be quicker here. The debate around restrictions sometimes explicitly, and sometimes more subtly raised the questions of authority. The law says that a minister of religion may leave their house to go to a place of worship. It doesn't say just for special occasions, checking the building or for emergencies. Legally clergy can go to their churches to pray on their own, and I presume they could stream a video of it as well, provided they were alone. [Of course the safety of lone working then becomes a question!]

However, the Archbishops have issued two statements here and here making it clear that clergy should not use their buildings. Challenged on Andrew Marr, Justin Welby said that it was guidance, not instruction, although the first letter says that churches "must now be closed not only for public worship, but for private prayer ".

This was bound to activate all the clergy who don't like getting any guidance/instructions from their bishops, even thought they are often the ones who complain about the lack of leadership. However,  there are real problems here. I'm not a church lawyer, but I doubt that Archbishops can easily override the legal right of clergy to prayer in their churches - and what the Archbishop said on the Marr show would support that.

With this perceived uncertainty, there are now letters getting signed about letting clergy back into their churches. Given that it's probably riskier going to Morrison's than to an empty church, personally I don't see why they shouldn't if they really want to; it's already legal.

Rounding Off

There's also a pressure to allow funerals in church again. That's harder, as once church is open for something 'public', it sets a precedent, and also places churches in the role of policing what appropriate social distancing means and potentially having to turn people away at the door.

What has become clear is that covid-19 has shaken up our entire way of life, and the church has not been immune. Along with all other aspects of life, we have had to learn new things, and have perhaps been reminded of the importance of community and relationship in a fresh way. We need to turn our energy away from claiming our rights within the life of the church, and concentrate instead on what it means to be the church for the wider world in this time of crisis.

This time will pass, and many of our previous ways will return, and others won't and shouldn't. In the meantime we need to pray for the wisdom to know the difference between the two.

Musing on orthodoxy

A long time ago in another universe (actually Dec 2006), I blogged about a letter signed by some church leaders of an evangelical persuasion relating to homosexuality and the standpoint Christians should adopt. I'd rephrase it now, but it made the point.

If you didn't click the link, I questioned the use of the term "orthodox" to describe a conservative ethical standpoint with regard to homosexual relationships. My point was that orthodoxy has historically been used to describe agreement with the historic Christian creeds - especially their definition of the Trinity and of how Jesus was human and divine - the Incarnation. In contrast, ethical issues have been matters of debate throughout the history of the church, and a key current debate centres around how we should understand same-sex relationships. Ironically, at the New Wine conference in the summer of 2006, I had noted that the speaker had talked about Jesus in terms that (at best) were perilously close to adoptionism without any comparable furore about a lack of orthodoxy.

Now there's an important note to make here. Ethics is related to theology, and theology has ethical consequences. The distinction is not as sharp as my opening gambit might suggest. However, it is indisputable that Christians have differed on a variety of pretty important ethical issues without necessarily resorting to labelling each other heretics / unorthodox.

Take, for example, the question of the use of force. Pacifists would argue from Biblical texts such as the prohibitions to kill in the ten commandments (Ex 20:13, Deut 5:17) and Jesus' injunctions to turn the other cheek and love our enemies (Matthew 5:39,44). Others would draw on other texts to assert that military service is accepted (e.g. no criticism is offered in Mt 8:9, and soldier is used as an image in 2 Tim 2:3-4) It is deduced from other principles that defending the innocent and order of the state is a common good. There is a long track record of Christians concluding that where necessary, the use of force and taking of life can be justified. This was developed into what is often called just war theory. 

My question is this: would we refer to someone on one side of the argument or the other as a heretic? Each is considering Scripture very carefully and thoughtfully, but they have drawn different conclusions.

Some would say to me that this issue is different from questions of sexuality. They would assert that the clear view of Scripture is that same-sex relationships are a no-go area, and those who say they could be are just swayed by the times. It's worth noting that early Christians were essentially pacifists until Constantine took power, but as emperors, kings (and later presidents!) claimed Christian faith, the use of force became not only accepted, but even actively encouraged. There is a case for saying that politics and power had a role in changing that ethical standpoint too.

Whether you're a pacifist or not, or whether you are socially conservative or liberal, I have a simple plea. There are people on both sides of these debates who are sincere, thoughtful, conscientious people trying to discern the will of God. All kinds of factors bear down on all of us to read our Bibles with some degree of selectivity. We set aside some texts, because we see principles from other texts as overriding them. Why else do some Christians allow divorcees to remarry, why don't we sell all our possessions, and why do we allow women to lead - let alone preach in church? The answer is that we bring other factors to bear to set those commands and prohibitions aside - the context of the passage in the wider text, the people it was written for, the issue it was addressing and so on. It's all about the delicate and complex art of interpretation or hermeneutics.

So by all means disagree over same-sex relationships, just as Christians have disagreed over other matters - including life and death for centuries. My plea is simply that we should avoid describing those with whom we disagree as unorthodox or heretical. To do so is to make a claim of authority that I, for one, am not prepared to own.

Greenbelt 2013

Greenbelt reached it 40th edition this year. If you're not familiar with Greenbelt, it's an arts festival at Cheltenham race course, with a Christian background, but by no means limited to Christian input. Music, drama, literature, and talks addressing matters of faith and justice all feature, along with a good dose of silliness and fun. There are always several venues functioning, so there is plenty of choice as to how to spend the time. There are also plenty of stalls, (organic/fair trade/responsibly sourced) catering vans and displays to browse if you want to take a bit of time out. So what were my picks for 2013?

Jazz Church

Andy Flannagan and friends

There is usually some opening worship so we went along to Jazz Church in the Big Top. Some classic hymns to new arrangements mixed with a jazz take on more contemporary ones, including "Heaven" by Gungor. Not something you could sustain very often, but a great idea and a fresh take on some familiar tunes. I also got along to Ben Cantelon on Sunday doing set of contemporary worship songs in a (dare I say) more conventional way. Andy Flannagan closed things off on Monday with an interesting mix of him, a DJ and a man on a trombone. Somehow it worked.

Other options over the weekend, apart from the main worship on Sunday morning included eucharists from Blessed, an alt-worship sacramental community, another used music from Les Miserables, there was a U2charist and a goth mass. You could get close to nature with Forest Church, of you prefer it quiet, Quakers and Franciscans offer alternatives!

The range of music on offer is always a highlight for me. You can usually find a good selection of singer-songwriters around the place at the Performance Cafe (this year changed to a venue not a cafe!), the CD tent, the Christian Aid tent and the Shed - the youth venue. Martyn Joseph is usually on the list and he also hosts a session (The Rising) with musicians each day to talk about their work and share songs. We caught him talking to old-timer Garth Hewitt and two newer artists, Carrie Rodriguez and Blair Dunlop. The latter 2 were so good we spent 2 hours sitting on the floor of the Performance cafe for their afternoon sets. Blair Dunlop is a great guitarist and writes interesting songs; Carrie Rodriguez is more country influenced but avoids the country cliches. Ably assisted by Luke Jacobs on guitar and sometimes singing and playing the violin at the same time, she had real quality. Also caught Stylusboy from Coventry and Andy Howie from Scotland, but missed plenty more.

The Boxettes at The Performance Cafe

The word 'box' seemed to dominate music on Saturday. Boxes is a solo project by Carey Willetts of the band Athlete (who headlined our first Greenbelt in 2009). Playing solo with a variety of backing effects he did a good set. Later The Boxettes appeared. 4 singers and world champion beat boxer Bellatrix with no instrumentation or backing track, they delivered a great energetic set. More followed at the Performance Cafe, including an improvisation using three words from the audience. They're still unsigned and have far more talent than most 'girl groups', so somebody get them a contract! Also caught Black Rebel Motorcycle Club for some serious rock.

Panel discussion featuring Jim Wallis
and Richard Coles

The talks programme is always interesting, usually challenging, often inspiring and rarely without something controversial in there somewhere. Caught a nice little session with Martyn Joseph speaking about songwriting. Graham Cray spoke about what kind of church seems to be emerging for the future. Maybe I've been to too many sessions and read too many books on this, but I didn't find this very inspiring. However, Jim Wallis gave a very challenging, inspiring and yet very accessible address on 10 personal decisions you can make for the common good. I missed most of Steve Chalke, but I gather he was very good, but I did catch Rachel Mann on being a trans lesbian priest in the church today. that's not a talk I'd heard before, and it had a lot of insights.

Comedy from Paul Kerensa

The Christian Aid tent had a comprehensive programme. regular live music from Harry Bird and the Rubber Wellies, Paul Field and others. Interviews and panel discussions took place throughout and we also got some poetry from Harry Baker and comedy from Paul Kerensa, who writes for Miranda and other radio and TV shows. Meanwhile the cafe team made it a place to take a break and get some refreshment.

What else? Well there's always something going on. Giant puppets, a stage where anyone can have a go at a song, art installations, book launches, a beer tent (The Jesus Arms) and bumping into people you haven't seen for years.

This year there was little rain, no mud, and a new layout to avoid the quagmire of 2012. They did well, given the constraints, and we're sure to be back in future years.

Here are the questions; what is the answer?

A little while back I went to a lecture by Professor Linda Woodhead at Lancaster Priory about the future of the Church of England. She was at an early stage in looking at the results of a survey of views and attitudes of people and the relation of that to their belief background.

Linda has now put a Powerpoint presentation online which she shared with the Faith in Research 2013 conference. You can download it here. There is no accompanying text at this location, but here's a quick first reflection.

1) The gap between the declared positions of churches on issues and the prevailing attitudes of their members is striking. Attitudes of Anglicans and Catholics to same-sex marriage was very interesting in the present climate.

2) When asked what was negative about the C of E in society, younger people said it was bigoted; older (over 60s) said it was stuffy and out of touch. My generation tended towards saying it was hypocritical.

3) It was striking how little church (or faith group) was an influence on people's attitudes at all.

It would be interesting to see a text of her presentation, and I'm still taking in what it all means. Interesting stuff.

Giles Fraser and Cheesus

Normally I enjoy reading or hearing Giles Fraser. He's usually challenging, often controversial, and never makes comfortable listening. It's very important there are people like that around, who don't accept the status quo, question everything, and are prepared to face some criticism for the stands they make. In the old days they called people like that prophets, now they call them loose canons.

However, I feel I need to respond to a recent short article he posted on the Guardian "Comment is Free" site. In it, he starts with a description of permanent-grin Christians for whom anything nasty or messy is something to ignore or deny. Many of us will have come across the type over the years - it's not a new observation in itself, and it's legitimate, though not particularly novel, to critique them. So far, we're on consensual ground. 

What troubled me was what happened next in the article. Fraser does two things simultaneously. He outlines what he sees as the theological root of this tendency - a failure to engage with the desolation of the cross. Put simply, there is a culture in some Christian circles that can't pause at Gethsemane and Good Friday, but has to jump to the "happy ending" of Easter Sunday. At the same time he describes Rowan Williams as having gravitas, but of Justin Welby he says "but I worry that he does have a slight weakness in that direction." Later on he can't resist noting that an important part of Justin's Christian formation was at Holy Trinity Brompton, a church well-known for its smiley nice Christians.

It seems to me that Giles Fraser's right rejection of what affects many evangelical Christians becomes prejudice, rather than analysis. I grew up in an evangelical church, and that was the place I found faith, and vocation. Many evangelicals wouldn't recognise me as one anymore, but that experience means I know that Christians bearing the 'evangelical' label are a diverse bunch. They range from fundamentalists to people like Steve Chalk and Benny Hazelhurst speaking out for equal marriage. They range from people who have a 'proof text' from the Bible for everything, to people who are recognised for their theological scholarship. Just because Justin Welby comes from a particular background, it doesn't mean he will fulfil the stereotype. Let's assess him on what he actually says and does, rather than what our pre-conceived ideas assume he will do.

In Fraser's passion to demolish what he call 'Cheesus' Christians (of whom the new Archbishop may or may not be one, according to his analysis), he also makes a remarkable assertion. He says of the people he is critquing "the cross of Good Friday is actually celebrated as a moment of triumph. This is theologically illiterate."

Giles, it may not be balanced, and it may not be the theological emphasis you or I would wish to major on during our Good Friday devotions, but the idea of the cross as victory is well-established in theology. It is not illiteracy. From the Gospel of John's account of Jesus referring to the cross as "glorification", to the final words from Jesus on the cross in John "it is finished", the roots of the idea are there. Giles Fraser will know the term "Christus Victor" and its association with a theological understanding of the cross as defeat of evil. (Ironically it was an Archbishop of Canterbury, Anselm, who played a significant part in replacing it as the dominant understanding of the cross) It is also explored in art, such as the triumphant Christus Rex figure in Southwell Minster, where I was ordained. The ambiguity of a triumphant figure with arms stretched out in a cross-like shape is the paradox of the piece. By all means call a triumphal view of the cross bad theology, theology you don't believe, but please don't call it being theologically illiterate, because it isn't.

Keep writing, Giles, and keep speaking. You challenge our complacency, and you say things that others aren't brave enough to name. Just don't get carried away with your assumptions about people, or groupings that carry certain ecclesiastical or theological labels. 

Related articles

• I bang my head against the wall when evangelicals turn Jesus into Cheesus | Giles Fraser
• Giles Fraser's attack on Evangelical Christians is both ignorant and unnecessary

Questions to Traditionalists

A couple of friends will, almost certainly, respond to this, but I'd be interested to hear from others, too. Having grown up in an evangelical Anglican church, I both know the arguments and understand the instincts of that constituency of the church, even though I'm no longer a card-carrier for that viewpoint. However whilst I have seen the arguments put, I have some unresolved questions about the traditionalist catholic position within the C of E, regarding the recent debate on women bishops etc. Now the dust is settling from Synod, I'd be genuinely interested to read some responses without it being a ding-dong battle.
My interest is around the what is usually called the three-fold ministry. Some churches which came out of the reformation, separated from what we now call the Roman Catholic church, retained the pattern of ministry of that church - i.e. they continued to ordain deacons, priests or presbyters, and bishops. The Church of England is one such church. As things stand, Anglican ordination is not recognised by the Roman Catholic Church, having been declared null and void in a Papal Bull called Apostolicae Curae in 1896. This continues to be the RC position, and those Anglican priests who have become Roman Catholics have had to be ordained again in order to serve as deacons or priests.

If I have understood the arguments correctly, one of the key concerns for traditionalists is to keep Anglican ministry as compatible as possible with that in the Roman Catholic Church, so that a formal reunion is still possible, with the aspiration that recognition of Anglican ordination might also be part of that. That being the case, my first question is why was there so little fuss when women were ordained deacon in 1987? If the three-fold ministry is that important (and the traditionalist position would say it is), then surely the admission of anyone to any of those 3 orders needs to be in keeping with Roman Catholic practise?

Ordaining women deacon caused a reaction at the time in terms of women being seen in dog collars, but there was no exodus and no structural provision for conscience. In fact Andrew Burnham, a leading traditionalist who was a 'flying bishop' and has now become a Roman Catholic, had a woman deacon on his staff when a vicar in Nottingham. If ordaining women as priests and bishops is seen as unacceptably moving us away from the historic churches (Roman Catholic and Orthodox) then it seems to me that the key moment was 1987. Either that or you have to say the diaconate doesn't matter as much, which is not the historic view of three-fold orders. (Conservative evangelicals could cope with women deacons, as it didn't place them in positions of authority, so women becoming priests/presbyters & bishops were the problem for them.)

The second issue is more about the aspiration of my traditionalist colleagues. I presume that the reason they don't just become Roman Catholics is that there is something about being Anglican which they would wish to retain if Anglicans were reunited with Rome. My question is what, exactly, would they hope to carry through into a church which came under Roman authority? Many traditionalist catholic Anglicans already accept Roman Catholic understanding on many theological issues, and many use Roman Catholic liturgies, so I imagine it's a hope of carrying the church community into formal unity and recognition. Perhaps there is also an aspiration that something of the Anglican experience, story and possibly even some liturgy, might find an accepted place in any future union. But I'm not clear on what that really means, and many of their fellow Anglicans, whilst keen on ecumenical cooperation in many areas, wouldn't accept all that being a Roman Catholic entails - which is why they're Anglicans.

Revisionism or rediscovery?

There's been a lot of hot air circulating around the Church of England's General Synod discussions on women bishops. You can read about the debates and issues elsewhere, so I won't rehearse the well-worn paths here. The question I've been thinking about is change; specifically how under what circumstances might a community change its view on an important issue whilst doing justice to its source documents (in the church's case, the Bible) and its long-established traditions (which some will want to respect more than others).

So I'd like to take you to the world of late 60s / early 70 rock albums. [If you don't want to go there, skip to the conclusion] I have just got myself a copy of the 40th anniversary edition of In the Court of the Crimson King by King Crimson, originally released in 1969. Back then, recording a complex multi-tracked album was quite a challenge, as the tape recorders in the studio at that time could only record 8 tracks. If you required more than that, then you had to do a 'bounce', which was mix some of the tracks you had already recorded together and record that mix onto 1 (or sometimes 2 for stereo) tracks on another machine. You could then add some more recordings on the vacant tracks. In the Court... required more than one of these.

Teccies reading this will know the problems. A 'bounce' locks the mix - the relative volume levels of the instruments and voices on the separate tracks that are combined, and the sound quality degrades a little every time you make a tape to tape copy.

In 2009, all the original recordings tracks with the individual instruments and voices from different tape reels were transferred to digital, and synchronised. It was then possible to mix the album as if it had been recorded on modern multitrack equipment, with the producer able to control the individual levels of every recorded track. The result received a lot of critical acclaim, especially when compared to some other remaster/remix releases. The definition and clarity are much better, and you can hear things that were hard to make out on the vinyl (or even CD) of the originial.

The question is which is the real album? Is it the 2009 version, with all its improved sound quality, or is it the 1969 version, mixed at the time? Die-hard fans might say that it's OK to get rid of the pops, crackles and turntable noise of the vinyl and move to CD, but the remix is, in effect, a revision which makes it a new album. Others would say that the 2009 version has enabled them to hear things which were always there, but had been lost or downplayed in all the copying and bouncing in the orginal release. For them it's a clearer interpretation of what Robert Fripp, Greg Lake and co were trying to do in the studio.

[Non-teccies resume here] Here's the thought: what if we thought about the debates in the Church today in similar terms. Theological conservatives are like those who stick with the 1969 mix, preferably on vinyl, although eliminating pops and crackles via CD might be tolerated. It's what we always had, so it's correct. Others might say that revisiting the source material enables you to hear things that have been missed. Perhaps the emphases in the original obscured some things that were important. For example, slavery was seen as OK for centuries by Christians, but Wilberforce listened harder to the tradition and heard liberation. Words like 'liberal' and 'revisionist' are used a lot to accuse those who advocate change, but sometimes they might simply be rediscovering what was always there in the first place.

And we also need a bit of humility about the sources and traditions we have. Robert Fripp and his 2009 engineer had the original tapes; we don't have video or sound of Jesus, or of the earliest Christian worship and church life. In a sense the writing of Scripture, the forming of the Canon and the writings of the early church are all 'bounces' of an original set of sayings, incidents and events that we have no direct verbatim record of. Revisiting the tradition and asking "does it really mean that now?" might seem revisionist to some; to others it equates to asking the question "have we got the right?".

Is theism getting a bad press?

I'm not very sure how to phrase this post correctly. I have been musing for a while about a change I've observed over the time I have been ordained. It seems that there are now significantly more atheist voices who are more vocal and critical of belief in God, especially in the media and in public life. The question is: why?

Looking at the kinds of digs atheists make online, they're not always very sophisticated or original. Some atheists even seem to mirror religious fundamentalists in their absolutism. Even when the critique is more considered, it's usually the case that Christians have been struggling with the same issues for centuries. Suffering, theodicy, Old Testament wrath vs New testament compassion, etc are all there in theology textbooks (but not any neat answers). Maybe that's the problem: people who want neat answers find a messy God difficult.

If there is a trend, my first hunch is that the percentage of people who don't believe in God may not have changed as much as we think; it's just that their presence is felt more now. It's not as if atheism was invented when Richard Dawkins started selling books about it - people who didn't believe have been around for a long time.

I also suspect that quite a lot of the British never really believed in God in any very specific way, if at all. However, at most they described themselves as agnostic. Not a few of them probably went along to church, because it was a 'good thing' and saw it as supporting community and family. The 'supernatural' bit passed them by, and there are still churchgoers for whom that is true. The stronger  tag  of atheist probably seemed a bit definite for those 20th century sensibilities.

What's become clear in recent years is that attitudes to organised faith/religion have changed. The Church of England was once seen as basically benign, if rather odd, eccentric, ineffectual and from a different era. Church of England schools and colleges would be seen as 'nice' places to study, even by those who didn't practise the faith in any committed way. There is now a debate as to whether these institutions should receive any public support at all, or even whether churches and faith groups qualify as charities.

So why isn't theism seen as benign for wider society any more? Religious conflicts must be part of the picture. These aren't new, either, and nor is sectarian terrorism. There was plenty of that during the 'troubles' in Northern Ireland. However, more recent developments such as suicide bombing and the description of such as martyrdoms has pointed to a difficult question. If it is believed that human existence doesn't depend on this material world, but upon a relationship with the divine, then someone can acquire an attitude that says this life doesn't really matter. And in case Christians start getting superior at this point, that tradition is there in our faith too. It hasn't worked itself out in suicide bombing, but in medieval times, being killed on the Crusades was regarded as tantamount to martyrdom. How do we hold that 'this isn't everything', yet still value the material world as real and precious?

Ethics and values have changed the goalposts too. Churches are often seen as maintaining sexist and homophobic values in an era when society's norms and the laws of the land have moved on from traditional standpoints. If the perception out there is growing that theism = prejudice and discrimination, then it's hardly surprising to hear a more vocal critique from theosceptics. (Have I just invented that word? Must look it up later)

If my hunches bear any relation to reality, I'm not particularly worried about these shifts in attitude. One the one hand, Christians should expect opposition if they are being true to the teaching of Jesus - it certainly came his way. I sometimes wonder if we shouldn't be a lot more unpopular about poverty, economic exploitation and injustice.

On the other hand, we also need to listen. The Bible and the Christian tradition are complex, and it's easy to confirm our own pet prejudices with careful selection of our sources. Sometimes a radical challenge from outside our comfortable circle of like-minded can jolt us into re-examining what we think and why we think it.

Perhaps most of all we need to be more willing to live more radical lives. Maybe the reason more people openly say they don't believe any more is that they can see precious little reason for belief in the lives of those who say they do.

Greenbelt 2011 Diary: Monday

Image by Getty Images via @daylifeAlways feel a bit wistful on the last day of something like this. Just as you're getting used to camping, and have worked out the good food vans, and also have a clear idea where the decent loos are, it all comes to an end. Also tends to be the day when you bump into friends you were hoping to see all weekend, but somehow didn't.

The final Greenbelt day kicked off with a session led by Nadia Bolz-Weber (from House for all Sinners and Saints in Colorado) on the process of preparing a sermon. I've heard plenty of talks on how to preach - most of them very sound and very dull - and given a few myself. This was much more interesting, as she talked us through her week. Starting with reading the text for Sunday on Tuesday morning, and then processing all the things that happened and trying to discern the gospel - the good news - for her community. Having done that, she then preached the sermon. She used a fantastic image of wrestling with the text all week, preaching the sermon, and walking away limping. Despite being associated with the 'emergent' movement, she doesn't go in for tech or trendy presentation. She quite likes the idea of chuch being a bit odd.

As a recovering addict (clean 20 yrs) and having had quite a life, some of that colour comes out in her speaking and language, but the Lutheran theology that helped her embrace the possibility of faith still runs through her thought in a very compelling way.

Then it was an opportune moment to deconstruct the tent - didn't want to be doing that a) in the rain, b) in the dark, c) during something I really wanted to go to. Tent down and packed and lunch eaten, it was off to hear Andy Graystone's talk: Parts of me are dying. Andy is director of the Church and Media Network, which seeks to resource both the Church and the media in relating to and understanding one another. He has worked for BBC religion and produced radio and TV programmes.

Andy has an early diagnosed cancer, and spoke in a very amusing and engaging way about his experiences, the choices before him, and how he understands what is happening to him. One point particularly stood out - the terminology about cancer. He is uncomfortable with the fighting/battling talk, along with hero/victim terminology. As he put it, he sometimes feels an unwilling conscript in a war, not that he wouldn't want to be clear of cancer - it's the culture and mindset those terms imply. He also talked through how it focusses the mind on whether you actually believe in life after death or not.

The it was off to mainstage for a bit of Ahab. 'folk flavoured country-rock' was the description - an American influenced Uk band. Good fun and great live. They will soon be supporting Bellowhead on tour. Bit more Iain Archer on mainstage, but having already seen him twice, had a last look around. Then back for Kate Rusby. I'm not a full-on folkie, but she's very accessible, her voice is great, and I've rarely seen someone enjoy performing live quite so much. Apparently her first Greenbelt experience was as a teenager in 1990!

Then it was time for us to leave. Ron Sexsmith and Mavis Staples were to follow, so it was a strong line-up, but the M5/M6 called and we wanted to get home on Monday. Whether you're a camper or go for the soft option of an off-site hotel, whether you like it loud or quiet, whether you're a Christian or not, there'll be something somewhere in a Greenbelt festival that will make it worth your while coming.

Related articles

• Nadia Bolz-Weber on Preaching (revdlesley.net)

A Bit Late to the Rob Bell Party

Quite a remarkable amount of fuss took place online about a Christian book that hasn't even been published yet. Rob Bell, who has become well-known to many for his Nooma videos, is founding pastor at Mars Hill Bible Church, near Grand Rapids Michigan.

His informal and engaging style has made him a popular speaker. Having seen him in action at Greenbelt and in Manchester, he certainly knows how to handle an audience. He provides a more inclusive and questioning account of Christianity in a genre that many modern evangelicals warm to. Some would describe him as part of the 'emergent' movement; others might label him post-evangelical (especially now!). He certainly connects with a post-modern generation, especially those for whom the traditional formulae have become empty or meaningless.

However, the recent fuss is over the publicity for his forthcoming book "Love Wins" which drops a pretty heavy hint that it will present a case for what is usually referred to as universalism. In other words, it isn't just the Christians who make it to heaven (although I'll unpack this a bit more later) Now, it's not new that Christians have adopted this kind of position with regard to heaven, hell and judgment - there's been plenty of stuff out there for a very long time. What's generated the stink is that a lot of evangelicals thought Bell was "one of them" and he has now challenged the traditional and conservative views - even on the promo video.

Not having the book, I'm not going to comment on it. But universalism it becoming a big question for Christians, especially (but not exclusively) those from an evangelical background. You can identify a spectrum of views on who's "in" and who's "out" (which in itself is terminology I'd prefer not to adopt!)

An exclusivist view would regard only those who explicitly follow Christ to be those who are promised a place in heaven. even here there is variation - ranging from only those who are Christians and have all the correct doctrines to a slightly more generous position that would also allow in others who might struggle to articulate a commitment, such as young children or those with learning difficulties. Usually this view looks back to a Calvinist/reformed position that sees anyone getting into heaven as an undeservedly generous act of grace on God's part as we all deserve condemnation. The summary of the Calvinist position is often called TULIP  - a 'pessimistic' view of humanity, and a commitment to a position that limits salvation to the elect.

The problems are obvious: those who don't hear the message through no fault of their own, those who got a very bad presentation of the gospel and so rejected it, let alone the problem of a few enjoying eternal bliss in the knowledge that most of humanity is suffering in hell forever.

An inclusivist position would see things differently. In non-technical speak, it can be summed up as judgement based on one's response to the light one has received. In other words God's mercy and grace extend beyond the bounds of those who have specifically chosen to be Christians - revelation is present in nature and experience. The question then is about what people made of what they glimpsed of Christ.

Universalism takes a number of forms, ranging from a very generous version of the inclusivist position above, via an "all roads lead to God" view of all faiths, through to a view that everyone will end up in heaven - because in the final reckoning the love of God will be irresistable, both in drawing all people to him and in transforming them for that new reality. Here the question is what, if any, uniqueness is there in the person of Jesus for a Christian universalist?

All of this casts the issue in terms of the human. As Bell points out, these questions are really about the kind of God we believe in. Let's try and look at it from God's point of view, and I have to credit Thomas Talbott's Chapter in Universal Salvation?: The Current Debate for the idea. You can view a fuller account here (go to page 43) He suggests 3 propositions [and I abbreviate them]: 1) that God loves and desires salvation for all. 2) God will triumph and accomplish his will. 3) Some human sinners will never be redeemed.

Talbott points out that if (1) and (2) are true, then (3) can't be. If God desire redemption for all and he gets his way, then noone can be left out. Hence Calvinists don't subscribe to (1), as  and Arminians [who place more emphasis on human choice] don't hold to (2) as they both accept proposition (3). Christian universalists say (1) and (2) are both true, and hence (3) has to be rejected.

On the face of it, universalism seems a lot nicer, but it's not without its problems. What might it mean for a concentration camp victim and their Nazi guard to share heaven? Where does justice come in? Is it possible to think that everyone could be transformed? Is there a spark of good in every soul, or are some people just plain evil?

When the hype and furore is over, it will be interesting to see just how Rob Bell handles these questions.

Greenbelt 2010

Just back from my second Greenbelt. Around 1979/80, various friends told me I should go, and sure enough I should have gone - U2 played. But having come to it late, the festival certainly continues to deliver at all sorts of levels.

Richard Rohr - who manages to be innovative, Franciscan, Emergent, spiritual and still lead retreats gave some inspiring words. Stanley Hauerwas provided a fascinating analysis of 'America's God', and the music, comedy and talks all could have filled the days.

An extra treat was when an unbilled Tom Hollander turned up for the day and joined in the 'in conversation' with James Wood, the writer of "Rev". 900 of us watched 12 mins of clips first, and that was the first time they had experienced audience reaction in that way. Lots of real Revs there and we liked it. The big surprise for them was the cheer for Colin.

All this and the best range of food stalls I have ever seen - including the fabulous Tiny Tea Tent. Nights were cold, but the experience was great.

How SHould Christians Vote

Good post on thinking this through on the Trendlewood blog. Worth a read.

Start The Week

There's something about people who can get up early in the morning. Whenever I have referred to my difficulty with mornings, at best I get pity, at worst scorn. Why is it morally superior to be able to get up in a morning, compared to being able to be active well past midnight? [not that I usually am, because I have to try and get up!] And it doesn't work to try and adjust your 'time zone'. When training for the ministry, I did a placement with a vicar who did morning prayer every day at 7am, so people commuting to work could join him. I got to bed between 10 & 1030 most nights, but still felt exhausted, whereas a midnight bedtime/8am get up would have been fine.

It was hugely reassuring to see a programme about all this a few months ago. Apparently we all have an internal clock that runs at about 24 hrs a day. However, some people run a little quicker than 24 hrs per biological 'day', and others slower. Hence some people are better at night, and others in the morning. Vindication at last.

So it has been good to start slowly today. Normal Sundays are challenging, having to be ready, dressed, prepared and compos mentis for an 8am service, but a 6-30am threw the system completely. This morning I woke up slowly, listening to the Today programme and then a fascinating edition of Start the Week. The guest list was brilliant: Philip Pullman, Abp. Rowan Williams, Professor Mona Siddiqui and David Baddiel. Apart from the comments on the Catholic Church (much quoted out of context) it was an intriguing conversation about belief, truth, values, institutions and communities. A surprisingly good-spirited encounter between Rowan Williams and Philip Pullman, who appear to have a genuine mutual respect.

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• Archbishop of Canterbury praises Philip Pullman's story of Jesus (guardian.co.uk)
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Lent Blog 7: An encounter with Calvin

Image via Wikipedia

Travelling up and down the M6 yesterday, I had two very different experiences of listening to the radio. The first was In Our Time on Radio 4. The subject was John Calvin, which might not inspire many people immediately. In fact it was fascinating. As a student chaplain I came across a number of people very committed to the understanding of Christianity upheld by UCCF, the Universities and Colleges Christian Fellowship. This is an umbrella organisation for many of the Christian Unions in Higher Education and its Doctrinal Basis owes a lot to Calvinist theology. The programme was a very helpful introduction to this tradition within Christianity, and helped to explain why Christians of the background act and speak in the way that they do. If you're quick, you can catch it here, or download the podcast.

One theme that struck me was that although Calvin and his allies were keen to put the Bible in people's hands - hence the Geneva Bible - the Bible came with comprehensive notes as to how it should be read. In other words, he replaced one form of church authority with another. In some Christian circles today, people describe their views/policies/structures/ethics as 'Biblical' to contrast them with 'human' views. Some (but not all) who come from this Calvinist/Reformed tradition can portray themselves as the carriers of the unpolluted message and be very suspicious of those who do not sign up to the same methodology.

In fact, of course, any 'Biblical' view is not simply an unblemished and unfiltered reading of Scripture with no presuppositions; it is affected by a whole set of theological assumptions. Maybe we all need to be a bit more humble and a bit more modest about our grasp on truth. It's not that I don't believe it; it's just rather hard to filter out from our own prejudices and preferences.

Tube evangelism

A very interesting debate taking place on Dave Gorman's blog, following his observations on a tube carriage. I first came across this on facebook, left a quick comment, and Dave asked me to join in on his blog! I'm still recovering from the fact I can name-drop in such a way!

Anyway, have a look and ask what you would have done in Dave's shoes.

Blog Action Day 2009: stewardship

Today is the day. Around the world, bloggers are posting in all kinds of ways about climate change.

What concerns me is the resistance within some Christian circles to take seriously the reported facts and figures about climate change. This complacency seems to arise for a number of reasons:

1. A strong belief that the world will end soon, and therefore the condition it happens to be in at the moment is of transient importance. A more extreme version seen in 'end timers' in the US is a desire to see world events move towards its destruction, as they would see that it speeds the Lord's return. (I would have thought he will choose his own time!)
2. People regarding evangelism (in the sense of concentrating on personal conversion) is the only core business of the church, and other things are peripheral.
3. Disbelief in the science of climate change, or a belief that global warming would be happening at this rate anyway.

The interesting thing about all of these 'objections' is that they disregard the key Christian theological reason to conserve the environment and the earth's resources; namely stewardship.

Christians stewardship understands reality in a fundamentally different way to secular materialism; namely that we own nothing, and everything is, in a sense, on loan or entrusted to us by God for safe-keeping. This theme regularly surfaces in Scripture, eg Psalm 24:1. Even in the story of Creation in Genesis 1, God gives responsibility as well as privileges to the human beings. There is no mandate to go and wreck what has been provided.

This means there is an accountability to God for what has been entrusted, even if the end of the world really is very near. In the parable of the talents (Mt 25:14-30), which is not primarily about material gifts, the three people only have what is entrusted to them temporarily; the issue is what they did in the meantime. The question for climate change is what will God make of our stewardship of the earth which was entrusted to us. Even if you're a climate change doubter, you are not off the hook. Even if the earth isn't warming at all, we still have a responsibility to look after the wonderful gift of creation that God has chosen to share with us.

Stewardship also challenges us about the consequences of our choices and actions for others. If consumption, pollution and environmental degradation is ruining the livelihoods of millions of fellow human-beings, then surely there is a responsibility for Christians to act? Even Christians who only focus on evangelism must surely be concerned that millions of potential hearers and recipients of the gospel might suffer and die. I think our faith gives us a duty to care, regardless, but I'm trying to get inside the head of people who think differently here.

It seems to me that Christian must be good stewards. Whether you believe the world is warming or not, whether that's a result of human activity or not, whether you think evangelism is the only concern for Christians, or even if you think we have only a few years before Jesus returns, that still holds. And if the science is (more or less) right, that stewardship will be an important contribution to all the world's occupants; if it's wrong, then we will have done what we should have been doing anyway. It's very sad that Christians haven't always been at the forefront of environmental protection, as it's there in the heart of our theology.

Another theo-wordle

Couldn't resist another while waiting for someone to call round. This is one is the Church Pastoral Aid Society's statement of faith. I like the fact that grace is big in this statement!

Wordle theology

Thanks to Steve for the idea of Wordle preaching.

Here's a Wordle of the UCCF doctrinal basis (click to see full size)



Meanwhile the Evangelical Alliance basis of faith looks like this



Does this tell us anything useful?

because we all share in one bread...

Good news from Blackburn Cathedral. They have decided to withdraw the arrangement whereby people who objected to the ordination of women to the priesthood could receive bread pre-consecrated by a male priest at a service where a woman was officiating. This gave a sense of two-tier sacrament in a very unhelpful way, and I'm glad to see it will be discontinued.

For those within the C of E who continue to hold to a male-only priesthood, the arrangements put in place in the early 90s remain in force, so that there are parishes where only male clergy officiate. Cathedrals are a focus for the whole Diocese, and have to be places where all ordained by the Church of England as priest can, at least in theory, officiate.

There will, of course, be services where men preside in the overall Cathedral programme, so this doesn't mean traditionalists are excluded.