The last two weeks have been pretty busy and a bit stressful, so I have been finding a bit of peace and quiet in a couple of books: a favourite, and a new book by a favourite author. The old favourites are the Harry Pottter series from the beginning all over again. This time it's quite interesting re-reading them because of our trip to Leavesden Studios in the UK for the Harry Potter tour. It was one of our must-dos on our (extensive) list of places we went. Each of us came up with some things we wanted to see and then we whittled down the list - well, if I'm honest, we took a sword to my list to chop it down to something even faintly resembling a reasonable length! The Harry Potter tour was on our daughter's must-do list and we were all quite happy to oblige her!
But back to the books. It's slightly odd re-reading them this time because of having visited the sets. Sure, I had my own vision of what the places looked like from my imagination, that was then coloured by the movies, but actually seeing the sets myself and walking among them has made this re-reading an unusually interesting and rich experience.
The other book I've been pursuing, somewhat slower because it requires more concentration, is the wonderful Silence: a Christian history by the outstanding scholar and church historian Diarmaid MacCulloch. Professor MacCulloch has been one of my favourite historians for some time now, ever since my brother sent over recordings of his outstanding BBC documentaries on the history of the church that accompanied his brilliant (but extremely large!) book Christianity: the first three thousand years (yes, you did read that right). I got that book and read my way slowly through it (it's about two inches thick - it took me a while!), and have been planning to read the Silence book ever since I heard that he was writing on monasticism.
I finally got my hands on it and it is a really interesting take on church history: not only does it look at monastic silences, but the silences of shame, of politics, of collusion, of power and powerlessness, of "heretics" and women, black people and gays. It looks at the way silence is used to bring us closer to God, and to hide us away, to control and release us. He describes the Protestant Reformation as one of the noisiest periods of church history and the loss of personal silence before God (deeply distrusted by magisterial Reformers) as something that took centuries to come back. I am about half-way through and it is almost as much of a challenge, though in a different way, as the wonderful She Who Is (Elizabeth Johnston) that I read last year.
Professor MacCulloch writes his history "from below": he has a deep, inbuilt understanding of the hidden silences of the church from his own experience as a gay man, so he is particularly alert to the experiences of silence, power and powerlessness experienced by other groups. It chimes with another book I was reading recently called The War on Heresy, another intriguing take on history that suggests that the inquisition and the Albigensian Crusade weren't actually about belief at all, but about the use, establishment, and abuse of power, and there was no real "Cathar church", contrary to what the surviving medieval manuscripts say (to the victors, the spoils!).
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
20 July 2015
12 July 2015
Booking
The last few nights have been rather fun. After our big trip to the UK in January, we decided we wanted to preserve the photos in a more permanent way than the usual photo album or digitally on hubby's computer. We kept our eye out and got a great deal on an A3 full-colour 52-page hardcover photo book. Hubby's been slowly editing our photos as he's had time around students and decorating - helped by a "yes, yes, no, yes, no, no, yes" session when we sat down together and identified the photos we wanted to include that he then edited for us.
The last three nights, we've been putting the photo book together: hubby finishing the editing then handing the photo files over to me for upload into the photo book software. It was surprisingly easy to use and had a number of layouts and other features we could use to make the book look the way we wanted. I decided to eschew the "other features" like frames and fake photo corners etc, and just let hubby's photos speak for themselves. In the end, I also left off text, which I had originally planned to include.
Tonight, we finished it. The awesome bit was that originally I had put most of the Hogwarts/Harry Potter tour photos on two pages, and the British Museum stuff on one page. When I got to the end of the album, I had two pages unused - so I was able to insert those pages into the centre of the book and give the museum and tour a lot more space.
There is no way I could capture the British Museum in a double-page spread, so I didn't try. We were only there for a morning (we could have stayed for weeks!) and we went with a specific agenda: the Elgin marbles, the Mildenhall Treasure, and the Egyptian exhibits. We also found a lot of other cool stuff, including the Viking chess pieces and lot of wonderful Greek and Etruscan statuary, and some beautiful Venetian glass when we were trying to find the treasure. I tried to show those key things on the spread, but I will always remember the Celtic torcs and the altarpieces.... The pages showing Canterbury Cathedral and York Minster really capture the way I felt about those places, and overall I'm really happy with it. And we've got Mallard and Rocket in there, one from the National Rail Museum in York, the other from the Science Museum in London.
There was so much more we could have put in, but it's only a place of memories, to trigger our own recollections of what we did and where we went. I fired it off for printing tonight, and it will be amazing when it comes to see those photos full size - the editing program meant each page was not much more than A5 on screen. It was a lot of fun too - but so hard, deciding which of hubby's wonderful photos went in, and which ones couldn't: he had about 3000 photos from the trip, which we cut down to 300 for the album, some of which didn't make it in.... The joys of going overseas with a photographer!
The last three nights, we've been putting the photo book together: hubby finishing the editing then handing the photo files over to me for upload into the photo book software. It was surprisingly easy to use and had a number of layouts and other features we could use to make the book look the way we wanted. I decided to eschew the "other features" like frames and fake photo corners etc, and just let hubby's photos speak for themselves. In the end, I also left off text, which I had originally planned to include.
Tonight, we finished it. The awesome bit was that originally I had put most of the Hogwarts/Harry Potter tour photos on two pages, and the British Museum stuff on one page. When I got to the end of the album, I had two pages unused - so I was able to insert those pages into the centre of the book and give the museum and tour a lot more space.
There is no way I could capture the British Museum in a double-page spread, so I didn't try. We were only there for a morning (we could have stayed for weeks!) and we went with a specific agenda: the Elgin marbles, the Mildenhall Treasure, and the Egyptian exhibits. We also found a lot of other cool stuff, including the Viking chess pieces and lot of wonderful Greek and Etruscan statuary, and some beautiful Venetian glass when we were trying to find the treasure. I tried to show those key things on the spread, but I will always remember the Celtic torcs and the altarpieces.... The pages showing Canterbury Cathedral and York Minster really capture the way I felt about those places, and overall I'm really happy with it. And we've got Mallard and Rocket in there, one from the National Rail Museum in York, the other from the Science Museum in London.
There was so much more we could have put in, but it's only a place of memories, to trigger our own recollections of what we did and where we went. I fired it off for printing tonight, and it will be amazing when it comes to see those photos full size - the editing program meant each page was not much more than A5 on screen. It was a lot of fun too - but so hard, deciding which of hubby's wonderful photos went in, and which ones couldn't: he had about 3000 photos from the trip, which we cut down to 300 for the album, some of which didn't make it in.... The joys of going overseas with a photographer!
4 June 2015
Frosty
Last night I was re-reading some of my favourite poetry by Robert Frost, the American 20th century poet who is probably most famous for his poem 'The Road Less Travelled' - the one that ends 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood | And I, I took the one less travelled by, | And that has made all the difference.'
I did re-read 'The Road Less Travelled' last night, along with some other favourites such as 'Mending Wall', 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening', and 'After Apple-picking'. But the one that particularly struck me last night was 'The Wood-pile'.
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,
I paused and said, 'I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther—and we shall see.'
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tall slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather—
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled—and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself, the labor of his ax,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.
I've always liked that poem, but like with most of Frost's work, I've usually focused on the image of the person he describes, the one who 'lived in turning to fresh tasks'. However, last night I found myself touched by the opening description of the walk in the woods: the hard snow, the lines of slim trees that all look the same. It took me back to Grace Dieu Priory, a ruined Augustinian priory near Shepshed in the UK. We went there on one very cold, snowy afternoon, walking through the woods in the late afternoon sun (at 2pm!), with all the slim trees everywhere the same, and the snap and squeak of snow underfoot, and you couldn't tell where you were or where you were going. However instead of finding an abandoned woodpile, we found a ruined monastery, sacred ground iced with snow and holding a breath of the holy in the cold.
I did re-read 'The Road Less Travelled' last night, along with some other favourites such as 'Mending Wall', 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening', and 'After Apple-picking'. But the one that particularly struck me last night was 'The Wood-pile'.
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,
I paused and said, 'I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther—and we shall see.'
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tall slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather—
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled—and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself, the labor of his ax,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.
I've always liked that poem, but like with most of Frost's work, I've usually focused on the image of the person he describes, the one who 'lived in turning to fresh tasks'. However, last night I found myself touched by the opening description of the walk in the woods: the hard snow, the lines of slim trees that all look the same. It took me back to Grace Dieu Priory, a ruined Augustinian priory near Shepshed in the UK. We went there on one very cold, snowy afternoon, walking through the woods in the late afternoon sun (at 2pm!), with all the slim trees everywhere the same, and the snap and squeak of snow underfoot, and you couldn't tell where you were or where you were going. However instead of finding an abandoned woodpile, we found a ruined monastery, sacred ground iced with snow and holding a breath of the holy in the cold.
9 May 2015
Hobbiton
Life is made up of memories, I have decided. Memories that stack up into a lifetime of journeys and fun.
Today we went to visit the Hobbiton movie set near Matamata, as a birthday present for hubby and one of those outings we'd been planning for ages. It was good: the whole place exactly as you imagined it, exactly as it appears in the films. In some ways it wasn't as good as the Harry Potter tour in Leavesden Studios, but we think its because the HP tour covered a huge amount of ground through 7 films - this was only one location. HP was bursting at the seams with movie props, rooms, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts bigature, costumes, and the Great Hall - it was like walking through JK Rowling's head. This was more a quiet corner of the English countryside (South Waikato does look very English in places) that had hobbit holes everywhere. They were really cute though!
However, the touches to make it realistic were amazing, including the community notices on the noticeboard near the Mill at Bywater, and the Green Dragon Inn - the ginger beer they brew there is seriously good, and we had the best beef and ale pie I've ever eaten. Even better than the pheasant pie I had in one of the pubs in the UK!
Today we went to visit the Hobbiton movie set near Matamata, as a birthday present for hubby and one of those outings we'd been planning for ages. It was good: the whole place exactly as you imagined it, exactly as it appears in the films. In some ways it wasn't as good as the Harry Potter tour in Leavesden Studios, but we think its because the HP tour covered a huge amount of ground through 7 films - this was only one location. HP was bursting at the seams with movie props, rooms, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts bigature, costumes, and the Great Hall - it was like walking through JK Rowling's head. This was more a quiet corner of the English countryside (South Waikato does look very English in places) that had hobbit holes everywhere. They were really cute though!
However, the touches to make it realistic were amazing, including the community notices on the noticeboard near the Mill at Bywater, and the Green Dragon Inn - the ginger beer they brew there is seriously good, and we had the best beef and ale pie I've ever eaten. Even better than the pheasant pie I had in one of the pubs in the UK!
20 March 2015
Dragonflight: the movie?
Part of me is bouncing in my seat, and the other part is completely terrified. Apparently Warner Bros have optioned the entire Dragonriders of Pern series (Anne McCaffrey) and has got as far as appointing a screenwriter for a first movie version of Dragonflight.
If they pull it off, it could be fantastic. The story is strong, there's lots of drama, great characters, and the dragons. We now have the technology to make the dragons convincing - look what they did with Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and Avatar! But if they mess it up it could be truly awful.
But let's play with the idea for a bit. Casting call:
Lessa: Emily Blunt
Masterharper Robinton: Jeremy Irons
Sebell: Eddie Redmayne
Menolly: Amy Adams
F'lar: Christian Bale
F'nor: Freddie Highmore
R'gul: Chris Cooper
Lytol: Tommy Lee Jones
Fax: Robert Duvall
Manora: Phyllis Logan
Ramoth (voice): Meryl Streep
Mnementh (voice): John Hurt
Canth (voice): Matt Damon
So that's my picks for the major parts. I know that Sebell and Menolly don't appear in the main trilogy until Dragonquest but I suspect will be edged into the first movie.
Warner Bros, are you listening?
If they pull it off, it could be fantastic. The story is strong, there's lots of drama, great characters, and the dragons. We now have the technology to make the dragons convincing - look what they did with Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and Avatar! But if they mess it up it could be truly awful.
But let's play with the idea for a bit. Casting call:
Lessa: Emily Blunt
Masterharper Robinton: Jeremy Irons
Sebell: Eddie Redmayne
Menolly: Amy Adams
F'lar: Christian Bale
F'nor: Freddie Highmore
R'gul: Chris Cooper
Lytol: Tommy Lee Jones
Fax: Robert Duvall
Manora: Phyllis Logan
Ramoth (voice): Meryl Streep
Mnementh (voice): John Hurt
Canth (voice): Matt Damon
So that's my picks for the major parts. I know that Sebell and Menolly don't appear in the main trilogy until Dragonquest but I suspect will be edged into the first movie.
Warner Bros, are you listening?
10 August 2014
Romuald and Wordsworth
St Romuald's Brief Rule says, "Sit in your cell as in paradise. Put the whole world behind you and forget it.... Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes nothing and eats nothing but what their mother brings them." In that being is peace. The world may come with us into our cell, our place of prayer, but when it comes with us it comes into the paradise of God's grace, and wonderful things are possible there.
The world is too much with us, and sometimes at the moment it feels very much too much with us. Wars and rumours of wars, fear, hatred, death, loss, pain, grief. What can I do in the midst of so much suffering? My little efforts feel like less than the widow's mite. But I need to remind myself of what I am, of who God has asked me to be: to dwell in my inner place as if it were paradise and wait there. Even though it feels quite often as though no-one else has turned up - to wait there is a gift and it is paradise. My inner cell is the doorstep to heaven and I should be content to sit and wait there, whether there is sunshine or rain, and know that the world I have put behind me is part of me and is waiting on the doorstep with me, gathered to paradise in my heart.
But no-one said it would be easy. As one of the monks at St John's Abbey preached, in our monastic round of rediscoveries and re-echoes and revisiting the same truths day after day, "we have good days, and bad days, and sometimes just days". And quite often its raining on the doorstep, or it's cold, and frequently it is lonely and dark and dispiriting, and sunshine and light and love seem like a distant dream. A long obedience in the same direction, as Eugene Peterson called one of his books, requires sitting on the doorstep even in the winter when the snow is piled so high we cannot see over it and springtime seems a million years away.
But then there are the days when the daffodils are dancing in my garden and the first of the tulips are poking through the ground, the sun is warm on my back as I do a bit of weeding, and the tree down the road is pink with blossom: to sit on the doorstep of my heart on those days is easy and the whole day bubbles with a deep and subtle joy, even when the world is too much with us and seems to be falling around my ears and I don't know what to pray or to say or to do to help. Maybe it's enough. I pray that it is.
The world is too much with us, and sometimes at the moment it feels very much too much with us. Wars and rumours of wars, fear, hatred, death, loss, pain, grief. What can I do in the midst of so much suffering? My little efforts feel like less than the widow's mite. But I need to remind myself of what I am, of who God has asked me to be: to dwell in my inner place as if it were paradise and wait there. Even though it feels quite often as though no-one else has turned up - to wait there is a gift and it is paradise. My inner cell is the doorstep to heaven and I should be content to sit and wait there, whether there is sunshine or rain, and know that the world I have put behind me is part of me and is waiting on the doorstep with me, gathered to paradise in my heart.
But no-one said it would be easy. As one of the monks at St John's Abbey preached, in our monastic round of rediscoveries and re-echoes and revisiting the same truths day after day, "we have good days, and bad days, and sometimes just days". And quite often its raining on the doorstep, or it's cold, and frequently it is lonely and dark and dispiriting, and sunshine and light and love seem like a distant dream. A long obedience in the same direction, as Eugene Peterson called one of his books, requires sitting on the doorstep even in the winter when the snow is piled so high we cannot see over it and springtime seems a million years away.
But then there are the days when the daffodils are dancing in my garden and the first of the tulips are poking through the ground, the sun is warm on my back as I do a bit of weeding, and the tree down the road is pink with blossom: to sit on the doorstep of my heart on those days is easy and the whole day bubbles with a deep and subtle joy, even when the world is too much with us and seems to be falling around my ears and I don't know what to pray or to say or to do to help. Maybe it's enough. I pray that it is.
5 July 2014
She who is - for me
It doesn't seem like nearly a whole month since I last blogged, but the calendar tells a different tale!
The usual lots going on, but there is one thing that I'm thinking about a lot. In my last post, I talked about some niggles I was experiencing over the naming of God and the location of women's experience in our history and traditions. I have continued to explore those issues. Hubby and I are reading She Who Is: the mystery of God in feminist theological discourse, by the wonderful Sr Elizabeth Johnson. Her book is a comprehensive theological and biblical analysis of images of God, testing the hypothesis that there are images of God that are feminine in our tradition, the biblical text, and classical and contemporary theology, and more importantly, that we need to recover these images because our language defines our experience. Women cannot experience the wholeness of the imago dei, bring made in God's own image, if they cannot find language for God taken from our experience as women.
I was willing to test this hypothesis, and I found, to my surprise and my joy, that the text, history, and theology fully supports images and language for God that is female. Wisdom, the Spirit of God, is consistently spoken of as "she" in the wisdom literature. El Shaddai is an image of God as "the breasted one" (from shad, breast - an alternative extraction can also be from the word for mountain -which looks like a breast!). The Spirit of God hovers over the face of the waters like a mother bird. God gathers us under her wings like a mother bird gathers her chicks. We together raised an objection in that Jesus refers to God as "abba" - "father": but in the analysis of the biblical texts, Jesus calling God father is used '4 times in Mark, 15 in Luke, 49 in Matthew, and 109 in John' (Johnson, p.81) - which when you lay these alongside the dates of the creation of the gospels, shows clearly that this usage is reflecting a growing tradition rather than necessarily the actual language of Jesus himself.
We're only halfway through, but already I find a change in me. Finding and using the images of God as mother, as Sophia, as She who Is, is invigorating my prayer and my understanding of myself as being the bearer of God's image and likeness. A flawed mirror I might be, but at least I can reflect, in my whole person and in my essential femaleness, God's wholeness and essential nature as divine, beyond gender and containing the fullness of femaleness and maleness. I am in God as God as in me. God, the Breasted One, Sophia, the creator of all, the one who breathes fresh life into the world and its people, is the ground of my being, and she is the brightness and love and joy and wisdom of this world.
I have moved, too, from my previous version of the Divine Office (Benedictine Daily Prayer, that I had been using since 2012). I found suddenly that I kept getting tripped up in the language and imagery for God, and it was interrupting my prayer. I discovered that the sisters of the Order of St Helena had retranslated and re-imaged their Breviary to find expansive language for God through a process of over 20 years - not just replacing "father" with God or gender-neutral pronouns, but truly looking for the images of God that have always been there but hidden. And bless them, they made their work available to others. The Monastic Breviary (available now only in pdf) even includes their chant tunes, and shows the years and years they spent with the texts, praying and chanting them, trying to find the right words and feelings and expressions for God's grace that does not use masculine pronouns or images for God. And the result is stunning. I haven't felt so joyous in my prayer of the Office for years. I've used many versions of the Divine Office in the last 15 years, but this is probably the most influential and the most beautiful.
I have also found The Inclusive Bible, another 20-year translation project undertaken by scholars of the highest order, seeking to do justly by the text and images of God, male and female. That only arrived yesterday, but again I find myself approaching the texts with joy again. I read through the first 15 chapters of Genesis last night, and I was stunned. I am extremely familiar with ch.1-3, having spent a large chunk of time in my Judaism studies with that text, and another large chunk when I was at theological college studying the Pentateuch. I've read it in Hebrew and in many different English translations, analysed it, pulled it apart, theologised over it, agonised with it, and lived with it in a scholarly and personal way for long enough to recognise when the scholarship is good. And the scholarship as shown in this translation is superb. It captures the wonderful word-play of the Yahwist author in ch.2-3, and shows the grandeur and beauty of the Priestly author of ch.1. All of this, and it reads aloud beautifully. I also dipped into several of my favourite NT passages to compare the translation, and I love it.
What's more, I read some of it aloud to small daughter tonight, and it was amazing to see her eyes light up like stars. She heard her own experiences reflected in the biblical stories for the first time, and it was a beautiful thing to see.
So, can my image of God expand? Can I reflect more of God if I break the patriarchial idol of masculine language for God? Yes, and yes, and yes again. I can find more of God, more of God's nature, more of God's essential goodness and being-with-us, if I allow myself to trust that female images and language for God are essential to allowing myself to see God's fullness of work in the world, in and through us. I only hope I am up to the challenge. Sophia, She who Is, the ground of my being, the source of life and truth, wholeness, healing and challenge for the whole world, the God who holds the universe and continually breathes it into being. It's going to be an interesting journey!
The usual lots going on, but there is one thing that I'm thinking about a lot. In my last post, I talked about some niggles I was experiencing over the naming of God and the location of women's experience in our history and traditions. I have continued to explore those issues. Hubby and I are reading She Who Is: the mystery of God in feminist theological discourse, by the wonderful Sr Elizabeth Johnson. Her book is a comprehensive theological and biblical analysis of images of God, testing the hypothesis that there are images of God that are feminine in our tradition, the biblical text, and classical and contemporary theology, and more importantly, that we need to recover these images because our language defines our experience. Women cannot experience the wholeness of the imago dei, bring made in God's own image, if they cannot find language for God taken from our experience as women.
I was willing to test this hypothesis, and I found, to my surprise and my joy, that the text, history, and theology fully supports images and language for God that is female. Wisdom, the Spirit of God, is consistently spoken of as "she" in the wisdom literature. El Shaddai is an image of God as "the breasted one" (from shad, breast - an alternative extraction can also be from the word for mountain -which looks like a breast!). The Spirit of God hovers over the face of the waters like a mother bird. God gathers us under her wings like a mother bird gathers her chicks. We together raised an objection in that Jesus refers to God as "abba" - "father": but in the analysis of the biblical texts, Jesus calling God father is used '4 times in Mark, 15 in Luke, 49 in Matthew, and 109 in John' (Johnson, p.81) - which when you lay these alongside the dates of the creation of the gospels, shows clearly that this usage is reflecting a growing tradition rather than necessarily the actual language of Jesus himself.
We're only halfway through, but already I find a change in me. Finding and using the images of God as mother, as Sophia, as She who Is, is invigorating my prayer and my understanding of myself as being the bearer of God's image and likeness. A flawed mirror I might be, but at least I can reflect, in my whole person and in my essential femaleness, God's wholeness and essential nature as divine, beyond gender and containing the fullness of femaleness and maleness. I am in God as God as in me. God, the Breasted One, Sophia, the creator of all, the one who breathes fresh life into the world and its people, is the ground of my being, and she is the brightness and love and joy and wisdom of this world.
I have moved, too, from my previous version of the Divine Office (Benedictine Daily Prayer, that I had been using since 2012). I found suddenly that I kept getting tripped up in the language and imagery for God, and it was interrupting my prayer. I discovered that the sisters of the Order of St Helena had retranslated and re-imaged their Breviary to find expansive language for God through a process of over 20 years - not just replacing "father" with God or gender-neutral pronouns, but truly looking for the images of God that have always been there but hidden. And bless them, they made their work available to others. The Monastic Breviary (available now only in pdf) even includes their chant tunes, and shows the years and years they spent with the texts, praying and chanting them, trying to find the right words and feelings and expressions for God's grace that does not use masculine pronouns or images for God. And the result is stunning. I haven't felt so joyous in my prayer of the Office for years. I've used many versions of the Divine Office in the last 15 years, but this is probably the most influential and the most beautiful.
I have also found The Inclusive Bible, another 20-year translation project undertaken by scholars of the highest order, seeking to do justly by the text and images of God, male and female. That only arrived yesterday, but again I find myself approaching the texts with joy again. I read through the first 15 chapters of Genesis last night, and I was stunned. I am extremely familiar with ch.1-3, having spent a large chunk of time in my Judaism studies with that text, and another large chunk when I was at theological college studying the Pentateuch. I've read it in Hebrew and in many different English translations, analysed it, pulled it apart, theologised over it, agonised with it, and lived with it in a scholarly and personal way for long enough to recognise when the scholarship is good. And the scholarship as shown in this translation is superb. It captures the wonderful word-play of the Yahwist author in ch.2-3, and shows the grandeur and beauty of the Priestly author of ch.1. All of this, and it reads aloud beautifully. I also dipped into several of my favourite NT passages to compare the translation, and I love it.
What's more, I read some of it aloud to small daughter tonight, and it was amazing to see her eyes light up like stars. She heard her own experiences reflected in the biblical stories for the first time, and it was a beautiful thing to see.
So, can my image of God expand? Can I reflect more of God if I break the patriarchial idol of masculine language for God? Yes, and yes, and yes again. I can find more of God, more of God's nature, more of God's essential goodness and being-with-us, if I allow myself to trust that female images and language for God are essential to allowing myself to see God's fullness of work in the world, in and through us. I only hope I am up to the challenge. Sophia, She who Is, the ground of my being, the source of life and truth, wholeness, healing and challenge for the whole world, the God who holds the universe and continually breathes it into being. It's going to be an interesting journey!
13 June 2014
Niggles
One of the more interesting things about living in Rotorua is the geothermal activity we have here. Most of the time it's pretty wonderful: boiling mud, geysers, and perpetual hot water. But there is a slightly darker side too. We live on one of the most geologically active areas of the country and there are over 45 known major fault lines running under and around the city.
So tonight we had an earthquake swarm. Lots of little shakes, all literally right under our feet - so close that there was no sound before they hit. But fortunately all rather small - but it is rather unnerving. I feel for our Christchurch friends - one night of small quakes is enough to freak me out, let alone years of them....!
On other fronts, I am having a few small niggles in other ways too. I had a bit of an epiphany in church the other day - a fairly good place to have one, you might say! - but this one was a bit different. I was paying close attention to the liturgy and it suddenly occurred to me that although Christians claim that God is beyond gender, we never use feminine imagery for God. We don't hear God referred to as She. Where is the God-language that includes female experiences? Yes I know that Jesus was a man, born in a specific time and place, but why should we refer to the other Persons of the Godhead as he? I am currently reading She who Is: the mystery of God in feminist theological discourse (Sr Elizabeth Johnson), which is both an extremely well-reasoned book and beautifully written.
I have also been researching options around inclusive- and expansive-language liturgy and Divine Office. I found that once I had awoken to this problem, the versions of the Office I have been using for years were really grating. I kept having to translate or substitute and it got in the way of praying. I discovered the Sisters of St Helena also had the same issue and they re-translated their breviary and psalms, and then tested their versions through years of monastic daily prayer. And bless them, they have made the breviary available to the public! There is a monastic version (now only available in pdf format) and a personal version which comes in a book. I've ordered the monastic version and am excited about the fact that the sisters have included their chant tunes! Before I went ahead and got it, I checked with the rest of the Community to see if anyone else had used it. Lots of them had, and almost all of them liked it. One of the brothers also found a sneaky link to the interior of the personal edition so I could have a look, and it's beautiful.
I am really looking forward to praying with symbols for God that embrace feminine experience and language!
So tonight we had an earthquake swarm. Lots of little shakes, all literally right under our feet - so close that there was no sound before they hit. But fortunately all rather small - but it is rather unnerving. I feel for our Christchurch friends - one night of small quakes is enough to freak me out, let alone years of them....!
On other fronts, I am having a few small niggles in other ways too. I had a bit of an epiphany in church the other day - a fairly good place to have one, you might say! - but this one was a bit different. I was paying close attention to the liturgy and it suddenly occurred to me that although Christians claim that God is beyond gender, we never use feminine imagery for God. We don't hear God referred to as She. Where is the God-language that includes female experiences? Yes I know that Jesus was a man, born in a specific time and place, but why should we refer to the other Persons of the Godhead as he? I am currently reading She who Is: the mystery of God in feminist theological discourse (Sr Elizabeth Johnson), which is both an extremely well-reasoned book and beautifully written.
I have also been researching options around inclusive- and expansive-language liturgy and Divine Office. I found that once I had awoken to this problem, the versions of the Office I have been using for years were really grating. I kept having to translate or substitute and it got in the way of praying. I discovered the Sisters of St Helena also had the same issue and they re-translated their breviary and psalms, and then tested their versions through years of monastic daily prayer. And bless them, they have made the breviary available to the public! There is a monastic version (now only available in pdf format) and a personal version which comes in a book. I've ordered the monastic version and am excited about the fact that the sisters have included their chant tunes! Before I went ahead and got it, I checked with the rest of the Community to see if anyone else had used it. Lots of them had, and almost all of them liked it. One of the brothers also found a sneaky link to the interior of the personal edition so I could have a look, and it's beautiful.
I am really looking forward to praying with symbols for God that embrace feminine experience and language!
10 April 2014
We fall down
It is the 10th of April. And the significance of that, you ask?
Besides it being the 100th day of the year, Nestorius became Patriarch of Constantinople in 428, 1710 saw the Statute of Anne (the first copyright law in the UK), Mt Tambora volcano in Indonesia began a 2 month eruption cycle in 1815 that killed 71,000 people, Titanic leaves her port in Southampton in 1912, The Great Gatsby is published in 1925, the Wahine sinks in Wellington Harbour in 1968, the Good Friday peace deal is reached in Northern Ireland in 1998, and it is the feast of William of Ockham. And it's 3 days since I last posted on my blog.
Tragedy, you might say. What's the problem? Way back in March, you may remember that I said I would be trying to blog every day of Lent as part of my Lenten discipline. And here I am, missing three days in a row. I could say that I've been away on another work trip, and have also had a stinking head cold for most of this week as well, and all that would be true. I could also say that the number of spoons I've worked with this week was reduced due to head cold, change of daylight saving, and trip, and that would be true too. I could also say that the internet was a bit iffy when I was away.
But in reality, I haven't blogged because I didn't make time to blog, even to write the text and upload it when I had a secure connection when I got back. I got slack.
There's a very funny, slightly dodgy song (Tubthumping) that occasionally comes on the radio that I quite like. The chorus goes, "I get knocked down, I get up again, you're never going to keep me down," and some days it's just a bit like that. We get knocked down, so we get up again. I fall over with Lenten discipline, I get up and have another crack. What Eugene Peterson described beautifully in the title of one of his books as A Long Obedience in the Same Direction - we keep at it, even if we mess it up a bit some days. Thank goodness for grace that gives the courage to get up and have another go.
Besides it being the 100th day of the year, Nestorius became Patriarch of Constantinople in 428, 1710 saw the Statute of Anne (the first copyright law in the UK), Mt Tambora volcano in Indonesia began a 2 month eruption cycle in 1815 that killed 71,000 people, Titanic leaves her port in Southampton in 1912, The Great Gatsby is published in 1925, the Wahine sinks in Wellington Harbour in 1968, the Good Friday peace deal is reached in Northern Ireland in 1998, and it is the feast of William of Ockham. And it's 3 days since I last posted on my blog.
Tragedy, you might say. What's the problem? Way back in March, you may remember that I said I would be trying to blog every day of Lent as part of my Lenten discipline. And here I am, missing three days in a row. I could say that I've been away on another work trip, and have also had a stinking head cold for most of this week as well, and all that would be true. I could also say that the number of spoons I've worked with this week was reduced due to head cold, change of daylight saving, and trip, and that would be true too. I could also say that the internet was a bit iffy when I was away.
But in reality, I haven't blogged because I didn't make time to blog, even to write the text and upload it when I had a secure connection when I got back. I got slack.
There's a very funny, slightly dodgy song (Tubthumping) that occasionally comes on the radio that I quite like. The chorus goes, "I get knocked down, I get up again, you're never going to keep me down," and some days it's just a bit like that. We get knocked down, so we get up again. I fall over with Lenten discipline, I get up and have another crack. What Eugene Peterson described beautifully in the title of one of his books as A Long Obedience in the Same Direction - we keep at it, even if we mess it up a bit some days. Thank goodness for grace that gives the courage to get up and have another go.
5 April 2014
Glass and fish
Today was another one of those gorgeous days in the Bay. Although the leaves are starting to change and autumn is definitely here - colder nights and mornings! - the days have been stunning. We had a few bits and pieces to do today: the usual Saturday morning chores, made much more fun by us all working together to get everything done. Daughter and I cleaned the fish tank, which was getting a bit grubby: from the tragedy of earlier, we have now acquired a third fish to replace the two that died (one ate the other and then departed...). The third fish is a blackmoor, which daughter promptly christened Sirius (as in Sirius Black, from Harry Potter) - our tank is a literary one, with the original four fish being Thing 1 and Thing 2 (two goldfish, from The Cat in the Hat), The Lorax (from The Lorax - we were having a Dr Seuss phase when we got the fish originally), and Rainbow Fish (from the child's picture book of the same name). We now have Thing 1, The Lorax, and Sirius.
After all the morning ablutions were finished, we headed down to Taupo to Lava Glass, one of our favourite glassblowing studios in NZ. Lynden Over is the main glass artist there and we love his work. I had dropped by on my way to Napier for work earlier in the week and discovered that they had just opened a glass sculpture garden, and I suggested to the family that they might like to go and see it. We did and it was wonderful. Really pushing the boundaries of what glass art can achieve with each piece. He also has some new work I was keen to see as well. After that, we had sushi at the park to celebrate daughter being the "star of the day" in her trampoline training session, daughter had a play at the playground, and we came home.
And we have to remember to put the clocks back for the end of daylight savings tonight. At least that means we get a sleep in tomorrow!
31 March 2014
Monica Baldwin and the beginning of the journey
I have been re-exploring a favourite (and somewhat obscure) author: Monica Baldwin, niece of Stanley Earl Baldwin, three-times prime minister of England. I first stumbled across Monica in a school book bin when I was about 14, with her fascinating book The Called and the Chosen: the diary of Sister Ursula Auberon, Abbaye de ka Sainte Croix, Framleghen (1957) was being sold off for about 30 cents from the school library.
The Called and the Chosen was a watershed book for me. I was young, impressionable, and trying to find my way in the world. I was also a member of a deeply Protestant, non-conformist church that still had a strong distrust of all things Catholic. However, I have always had a driving interest in history and simply could not accept the implicit teaching of the church I belonged to that nothing interesting happened between the Acts of the Apostles, the Reformation, and now.
Monica's book, telling the story of a young woman who entered a convent and then the things that she experienced there, made a deep impression on me. The diarist, Sr Ursula, describes things that I had never experienced at the time, such as the liturgical wonders of Christmas midnight Mass, and the experiences in contemplative prayer. I was entranced. I read and re-read it, feeling for Sr Ursula as she struggled with her vocation and eventual choice to leave the convent because she felt she was called elsewhere and needed to be honest to that call - but with a huge sense of peace because she made the right decision.
I lost the book for many years after lending it to a friend who didn't return it (why is it that people who would be horrified at the idea of stealing anything else think it's okay to steal books?) and only found another copy with great difficulty some 15 years later. After this, I discovered Monica Baldwin had written two other books: the properly autobiographical I Leap Over the Wall and Goose in the Jungle, where she details her own exodus from the Canonesses Regular of St Augustine after 28 years (1914-1941) and how she adapted (and didn't) to a completely different world and kind of life. In these books she continues to explore what it meant for her to pray, and to find God - the convent was not the right place for her, but she began to explore the ways that the world around her could lead her towards God.
Thinking about it, Monica Baldwin probably had a lot to do with my own vocation. She helped me see that lots of the things I was longing for actually had a place in church (gorgeous music, silence, prayer, contemplation - none of which fitted in the places where I was at the time) and that what the Celts called the book of nature was more rich and subtle a teacher of faith than anything produced by fallible humans. The Anglican church became the place where I could place all of those parts of my disparate nature and they could all find a home - and unlike Monica, I found that all of them in the end led me to the religious life, firstly with the Franciscans and then the Benedictine Community of Solitude.
So, even though her own journey into the convent ended with her gathering her courage and leaving, Monica's journey through the convent and into the faith of the everyday has inspired my own.
27 January 2014
In pursuit of books
It is no secret that I am a bookworm. I have been called that since I was really tiny and it offends me not at all! It is perfectly possible for me to simply not hear someone when they talk to me when I am truly engrossed in a good book - although the opportunity for that kind of deep concentration is less now that there is a small daughter around!
Recently though, I have been investigating another side of books - the making side. It all started just after New Year when hubby and daughter were away for 10 days in Wellington, while I was working in Rotorua. I was wishing that I had a hobby that I liked to pursue, and not feeling like picking up my current tapestry canvas (which has been languishing on the frame for some years now!). I was reading The Book of Air and Shadows by Michael Gruber (great read, by the way) which begins in an antique book dealer and restoration shop, and I began to wonder whether it was possible to learn to bind books at home without a great deal of equipment or cost.
I came, I googled, and I made books. There is a heap of information out there, plus buckets of very cool photos of art-bound books that I am totally in awe of. My favourite website so far is "Adventures in Bookbinding" and there are some great Youtube tutorials. The best I've found are by a lady calling herself Sea Lemon, which are video/narrated tutorials of how to do different parts of the bookbinding process, including making a stitched text block (the pages bit), case binding (hard cover with glued fabric), and lots of kinds of fancy binding including moleskine and Japanese stab binding that I haven't tried yet. My first attempt at case binding didn't come out quite as well as I'd like but it looks okay, and my second book attempt (which was basically a sewn text block with sewn-on cardboard cover) looks really cool. I want to try case binding again because I think it will need some practice to make it work properly.
I got an idea today that the fancy papers that scrapbookers use might work quite well in books - so far I've just used plain 80gsm white A4 printer paper for my text blocks because that was pretty much all I could immediately lay my hands on at home (unless I raid small daughter's craft papers which I am strenuously resisting doing!). I got a small pack of scrapbooking paper, cut each sheet in half to make it go further, and made a concertina book, gluing each of the folded pages to make a concertina. It looks great: I just have to figure out what I'm going to cover it with.
I might use the rest of the scrapbook pages interleaved with other papers and stitch another text block. I've also got an idea lurking around about a slightly unusual cover, inspired by the photo on this blog post. I also want to fossick around in hubby's art gear - I seem to remember that we've got some art drawing paper that would probably do really well. I have an errand to run for work tomorrow and I think I'll try to time it just before lunchtime, as there is an art supplies place in Rotorua that I haven't been in (I was sighing for Gordon Harris Art Supplies - I remember ogling all the gorgeous paper stock they had there when hubby was getting his last set of photography matte board!). I also want to find an awl for punching pages for sewing "signatures" (the groups of pages) - I have been doing this with a sharp needle and seem to be going through rather a lot of sticking plaster....
I wish there were book binding classes in Rotorua. Such a pain that I discover this after we leave Wellington, where there are a number of specialist binderies and lots of classes. Anyway, I seem to have found me a hobby. And I like it!
Recently though, I have been investigating another side of books - the making side. It all started just after New Year when hubby and daughter were away for 10 days in Wellington, while I was working in Rotorua. I was wishing that I had a hobby that I liked to pursue, and not feeling like picking up my current tapestry canvas (which has been languishing on the frame for some years now!). I was reading The Book of Air and Shadows by Michael Gruber (great read, by the way) which begins in an antique book dealer and restoration shop, and I began to wonder whether it was possible to learn to bind books at home without a great deal of equipment or cost.
I came, I googled, and I made books. There is a heap of information out there, plus buckets of very cool photos of art-bound books that I am totally in awe of. My favourite website so far is "Adventures in Bookbinding" and there are some great Youtube tutorials. The best I've found are by a lady calling herself Sea Lemon, which are video/narrated tutorials of how to do different parts of the bookbinding process, including making a stitched text block (the pages bit), case binding (hard cover with glued fabric), and lots of kinds of fancy binding including moleskine and Japanese stab binding that I haven't tried yet. My first attempt at case binding didn't come out quite as well as I'd like but it looks okay, and my second book attempt (which was basically a sewn text block with sewn-on cardboard cover) looks really cool. I want to try case binding again because I think it will need some practice to make it work properly.
I got an idea today that the fancy papers that scrapbookers use might work quite well in books - so far I've just used plain 80gsm white A4 printer paper for my text blocks because that was pretty much all I could immediately lay my hands on at home (unless I raid small daughter's craft papers which I am strenuously resisting doing!). I got a small pack of scrapbooking paper, cut each sheet in half to make it go further, and made a concertina book, gluing each of the folded pages to make a concertina. It looks great: I just have to figure out what I'm going to cover it with.
I might use the rest of the scrapbook pages interleaved with other papers and stitch another text block. I've also got an idea lurking around about a slightly unusual cover, inspired by the photo on this blog post. I also want to fossick around in hubby's art gear - I seem to remember that we've got some art drawing paper that would probably do really well. I have an errand to run for work tomorrow and I think I'll try to time it just before lunchtime, as there is an art supplies place in Rotorua that I haven't been in (I was sighing for Gordon Harris Art Supplies - I remember ogling all the gorgeous paper stock they had there when hubby was getting his last set of photography matte board!). I also want to find an awl for punching pages for sewing "signatures" (the groups of pages) - I have been doing this with a sharp needle and seem to be going through rather a lot of sticking plaster....
I wish there were book binding classes in Rotorua. Such a pain that I discover this after we leave Wellington, where there are a number of specialist binderies and lots of classes. Anyway, I seem to have found me a hobby. And I like it!
2 November 2013
Saturday
Saturday night, with assorted bangs and splatters going on outside. Oh, yes: fireworks went on sale today. It was a gorgeous sunny day in the Bay today, and turned into a very productive one too. After hubby got the lawns done I got a lot of washing out, and then we went to have a look at the Home & Garden Show. It was okay, but as small daughter said, "There was a lot of home but not a lot of garden there, Mum!" A couple of interesting things that we've been looking at but nothing particularly new.
This afternoon small daughter and I were doing some more work in our library. We've been doing a bit each weekend for the last few weeks - we've run out of bookshelves again but came up with the good idea of putting books on the top of the bookshelf (once I found all the bookends again) to gain extra shelf space, but we're also going to sort through the books to see if there's anything we don't want any more - next weekend's job, I think! I got a bunch of stuff stored away properly and we moved the filing cabinet. I want to set up a proper office space in there and I can't work if it's a mess!This week has been completely manic at work so it was nice to just do some pottering around at home with the family.
Speaking of pottering around, daughter and I have just finished reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and she chose Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for her next reading-aloud book. We've read the first four Harrys already, but did them pretty much one after the other so took a break before OOTP. We've had some great books we've been reading together recently, including:
Last weekend was Labour Weekend, and it was wonderful to have that extra day on Monday! We had gorgeous weather too (which is unusual for Labour Weekend: it's often fairly unpleasant, but the Bay had a corker) - we had a bit of rain for about an hour on the Sunday afternoon, but took advantage of it to have a family movie afternoon, mitt popcorn and snacks. On the not-that-big-screen was The Princess Bride, one of my favourite movies of all time. Small daughter hadn't seen it before (I'd been waiting impatiently until she was old enough to enjoy it) and she absolutely loved it. My problem was resisting quoting all my favourite lines along with the movie so I didn't spoil it for her!
Well, not much else to tell right now. Things have been crazy busy but I hope that there is light at the end of the tunnel soon....
This afternoon small daughter and I were doing some more work in our library. We've been doing a bit each weekend for the last few weeks - we've run out of bookshelves again but came up with the good idea of putting books on the top of the bookshelf (once I found all the bookends again) to gain extra shelf space, but we're also going to sort through the books to see if there's anything we don't want any more - next weekend's job, I think! I got a bunch of stuff stored away properly and we moved the filing cabinet. I want to set up a proper office space in there and I can't work if it's a mess!This week has been completely manic at work so it was nice to just do some pottering around at home with the family.
Speaking of pottering around, daughter and I have just finished reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and she chose Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for her next reading-aloud book. We've read the first four Harrys already, but did them pretty much one after the other so took a break before OOTP. We've had some great books we've been reading together recently, including:
- Just So Stories
- The Jungle Book (the original Kipling version!)
- The Little White Horse
- Swallows and Amazons (the first three in the series)
- Enid Blyton's Circus books
- Harry Potter 1-4
- The BFG
- Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
- The Hobbit
Last weekend was Labour Weekend, and it was wonderful to have that extra day on Monday! We had gorgeous weather too (which is unusual for Labour Weekend: it's often fairly unpleasant, but the Bay had a corker) - we had a bit of rain for about an hour on the Sunday afternoon, but took advantage of it to have a family movie afternoon, mitt popcorn and snacks. On the not-that-big-screen was The Princess Bride, one of my favourite movies of all time. Small daughter hadn't seen it before (I'd been waiting impatiently until she was old enough to enjoy it) and she absolutely loved it. My problem was resisting quoting all my favourite lines along with the movie so I didn't spoil it for her!
Well, not much else to tell right now. Things have been crazy busy but I hope that there is light at the end of the tunnel soon....
13 January 2012
The first of many?
Today has been an interesting day for lots of reasons: some good discussions with my colleagues, a walk in the wind (quite a lot of wind to walk in too), and I finished a report I've been trying to do all week. Given it was my first week back at work I was relatively pleased with what I got done.
But the best bit came last. I got home from work to discover my order from Amazon.com had arrived. Two books: Benedictine Daily Prayer, and Martin Laird's new book A Sunlit Absence. Martin Laird's first book Into the Silent Land has been a near-constant companion for me since Synod 2010, and the next one promises to be just as good.
I spent some time with the new Laird book tonight: this time, instead of looking at contemplative prayer as a series of doors in how we deal with distractions, he's looking at focused attention and the "opening up" that comes through contemplative practice. He uses the concept of the "prayer word" (usually the Jesus prayer) as a focus for attention: not to overwhelm attention but as somewhere to bring attention back to when it wanders - as it does when one prays (distraction is a given!) He uses the lovely image of the videos that play in our heads - emotional reactions, thoughts, replaying situations over and over, but that these videos aren't really us. They're just our constructs of us. I'm not explaining this very well, but it's a concept at the edge of language, and mine isn't all that good anyway!
The new prayer book is a Benedictine version of the breviary, written by a Benedictine oblate and used by a number of abbeys. It's a simplified version (apparently!) of the opus dei, but what's really lovely about it is that it is aimed at an ecumenical audience. There is also full text for the whole seven liturgical Hours (instead of the two I've been doing for the last few years), with full text for the readings for vigils (which I'll have to find somewhere to do - I may swap this and do it after compline rather than in the morning, as mornings are tricky for me!). The "geography" of it looks a bit more complex than the Morning and Evening Prayer I've been using for the last few years though. However, I suspect that with practice it will come to be as natural as the other. I am very excited about the full-text readings though, as these include readings from Doctors and early church Fathers and Mothers, and for the propers for the saints' days there are extensive readings from writings of those saints. Looks fun!
So I have my challenge for the year: a new breviary, with additional Hours (the day Hours and vigils), and a challenge to more regular contemplation. My spiritual director suggested that I find the time for prayer that doesn't take anything away from anyone else, like when daughter is asleep and hubby is watching tv. So, maybe less Facebook this year? Who knows! Anyway, the adventure begins!
But the best bit came last. I got home from work to discover my order from Amazon.com had arrived. Two books: Benedictine Daily Prayer, and Martin Laird's new book A Sunlit Absence. Martin Laird's first book Into the Silent Land has been a near-constant companion for me since Synod 2010, and the next one promises to be just as good.
I spent some time with the new Laird book tonight: this time, instead of looking at contemplative prayer as a series of doors in how we deal with distractions, he's looking at focused attention and the "opening up" that comes through contemplative practice. He uses the concept of the "prayer word" (usually the Jesus prayer) as a focus for attention: not to overwhelm attention but as somewhere to bring attention back to when it wanders - as it does when one prays (distraction is a given!) He uses the lovely image of the videos that play in our heads - emotional reactions, thoughts, replaying situations over and over, but that these videos aren't really us. They're just our constructs of us. I'm not explaining this very well, but it's a concept at the edge of language, and mine isn't all that good anyway!
The new prayer book is a Benedictine version of the breviary, written by a Benedictine oblate and used by a number of abbeys. It's a simplified version (apparently!) of the opus dei, but what's really lovely about it is that it is aimed at an ecumenical audience. There is also full text for the whole seven liturgical Hours (instead of the two I've been doing for the last few years), with full text for the readings for vigils (which I'll have to find somewhere to do - I may swap this and do it after compline rather than in the morning, as mornings are tricky for me!). The "geography" of it looks a bit more complex than the Morning and Evening Prayer I've been using for the last few years though. However, I suspect that with practice it will come to be as natural as the other. I am very excited about the full-text readings though, as these include readings from Doctors and early church Fathers and Mothers, and for the propers for the saints' days there are extensive readings from writings of those saints. Looks fun!
So I have my challenge for the year: a new breviary, with additional Hours (the day Hours and vigils), and a challenge to more regular contemplation. My spiritual director suggested that I find the time for prayer that doesn't take anything away from anyone else, like when daughter is asleep and hubby is watching tv. So, maybe less Facebook this year? Who knows! Anyway, the adventure begins!
13 June 2011
Strangely heavy...
I am a happy camper. I might be breaking my back carrying it, but I'm happy. My copy of Diarmaid MacCulloch's Christianity: the first three thousand years turned up on Friday and I'm loving it. It's not been without it's problems though: the copy arrived from Amazon.com damaged, but Amazon has been amazing and is replacing it free of charge and in the meantime, I get to snuggle down with the damaged copy!
It's a beautiful book. Funny, very interesting, beautifully written, and capturing both the "big story", the metanarrative, and the smaller, more personal stories. He also has a lovely, light, almost wry sense of humour which is very modern and makes it definitely not dry in any way. It's more like reading a novel and it is in no way like reading a textbook - but it is richly erudite. It's got enough referencing to keep the scholars happy but he's hidden it away in the endnotes so you don't have to look at them if you don't want to, and he's stacked it with a lovely selection of colour plates and maps. These are necessarily small, with nothing like the grandeur of the cinematography in his BBC series, but enough to support his points. But if you want to see what he saw, watch the TV programme!
Very inspiring!
Completely recommended!
It's a beautiful book. Funny, very interesting, beautifully written, and capturing both the "big story", the metanarrative, and the smaller, more personal stories. He also has a lovely, light, almost wry sense of humour which is very modern and makes it definitely not dry in any way. It's more like reading a novel and it is in no way like reading a textbook - but it is richly erudite. It's got enough referencing to keep the scholars happy but he's hidden it away in the endnotes so you don't have to look at them if you don't want to, and he's stacked it with a lovely selection of colour plates and maps. These are necessarily small, with nothing like the grandeur of the cinematography in his BBC series, but enough to support his points. But if you want to see what he saw, watch the TV programme!
Very inspiring!
Completely recommended!
20 May 2011
A History of Christianity
There's been a bit of a blog silence from moi for the last couple of weeks. No particular reason: just nothing significant to write about! After Graduation last week, I plunged into a huge amount of training and work - I think it's been two days in the office in the last fortnight. I've also been training a new colleague, who's been following me around watching me deliver training and getting a feeling for our style of delivery, which I found mildly intimidating at first! However, it's been quite good so far and he's going to co-deliver with me next week, so that could be interesting (I've never co-delivered training so am not sure how it works!).
However, the prompt for blogging has come from my brother. He has sent me the absolutely fabulous A History of Christianity BBC series by Diarmaid MacCulloch, the Professor of History of the Church at St Cross College, Oxford. This sumptuous series is beautifully filmed on location in some of the most important sites throughout Christian history, including China, Baghdad, Jerusalem, Rome, Spain, Mexico, all over Europe ... in fact, I am completely and totally green with envy over where he went to! It is engagingly presented by Prof MacCulloch, who is one of the world's foremost experts on the history of Christianity, and he definitely knows how to tell a good story and keep people interested. I spent years studying church history when I did my BMin but I've learnt things from his series that I never knew, including about the "Church of the East" centred in Baghdad and their mission to China and Japan in the 8th century!
The series is based on his magisterial A History of Christianity: the first three thousand years, which was a bestseller (and not just to church history nuts!) in 2009 on release - the Archbishop of Canterbury has called it the "definitive work" in the field - which is something coming from a scholar like Rowan Williams! A good story well told... to the point that I have just ordered the book from Amazon. Can't wait - but think it might not be one for lugging to work for lunchtime reading as it's over 1200 pages....
Some personal highlights from the first four episodes of the programme: the rediscovery of a Christian church in China dating from the 8th century (now being used as a Buddhist monastery); his extremely clear and lucid discussion of the causes of the Great Schism in 1054 between Orthodox and Roman churches; the Church of the East; nearly a whole episode devoted to Orthodoxy, looking at it in Eastern Europe, Russia, and other places. I am waiting to hear his treatment of monasticism - I've seen four of the six episodes (the other two are on their way, I'm told!) and so far he hasn't dealt with monasticism at all and you can hardly trace the history of Christianity without looking at the influence of monks!
This is fascinating, beautiful, interesting history. Even if you're not into God, church, or anything else "religious" it's worth watching because he investigates the links between Christian history and the political landscape beautifully, and the locations are just stunning. Thank God for the BBC, is all I can say right now!
However, the prompt for blogging has come from my brother. He has sent me the absolutely fabulous A History of Christianity BBC series by Diarmaid MacCulloch, the Professor of History of the Church at St Cross College, Oxford. This sumptuous series is beautifully filmed on location in some of the most important sites throughout Christian history, including China, Baghdad, Jerusalem, Rome, Spain, Mexico, all over Europe ... in fact, I am completely and totally green with envy over where he went to! It is engagingly presented by Prof MacCulloch, who is one of the world's foremost experts on the history of Christianity, and he definitely knows how to tell a good story and keep people interested. I spent years studying church history when I did my BMin but I've learnt things from his series that I never knew, including about the "Church of the East" centred in Baghdad and their mission to China and Japan in the 8th century!
The series is based on his magisterial A History of Christianity: the first three thousand years, which was a bestseller (and not just to church history nuts!) in 2009 on release - the Archbishop of Canterbury has called it the "definitive work" in the field - which is something coming from a scholar like Rowan Williams! A good story well told... to the point that I have just ordered the book from Amazon. Can't wait - but think it might not be one for lugging to work for lunchtime reading as it's over 1200 pages....
Some personal highlights from the first four episodes of the programme: the rediscovery of a Christian church in China dating from the 8th century (now being used as a Buddhist monastery); his extremely clear and lucid discussion of the causes of the Great Schism in 1054 between Orthodox and Roman churches; the Church of the East; nearly a whole episode devoted to Orthodoxy, looking at it in Eastern Europe, Russia, and other places. I am waiting to hear his treatment of monasticism - I've seen four of the six episodes (the other two are on their way, I'm told!) and so far he hasn't dealt with monasticism at all and you can hardly trace the history of Christianity without looking at the influence of monks!
This is fascinating, beautiful, interesting history. Even if you're not into God, church, or anything else "religious" it's worth watching because he investigates the links between Christian history and the political landscape beautifully, and the locations are just stunning. Thank God for the BBC, is all I can say right now!
14 April 2011
A grey Fforde
I have blogged before about Jasper Fforde, the comic literary genius author of the Thursday Next books (The Eyre Affair, Lost in a Good Book, The Well of Lost Plots, Something Rotten, First Among Sequels, and the latest TN One of our Thursdays is Missing), Nursery Crime (The Big Over Easy and The Fourth Bear), The Last Dragonslayer, and Shades of Grey. Jasper is an amazing author: he is steeped in literature and his books ooze literary allusions, but they're not stodgy - they are laugh-out-loud funny (particularly The Well of Lost Plots).
I have been re-reading Shades of Grey, the first book in a new series set in a dystopic England - well, it's the same geography but not the same land! Most dystopias start off with the event and look at society's spiral to disaster - Jasper has what he refers to as "the Something that Happened" 700 years in the past, and no-one really cares about it! The key premise of the book is that in this society, people are categorised by their ability to see colour: Purples are at top of the social scale, followed by Blue, Yellow, Orange, Green, Red, and then Greys who can't see any colour at all. There is an organisation called National Colour who artificially colour things with "univisual colour" that everyone can see. The society is completely hierarchical, but underneath the strict social patterning there is a veritable nest of nastiness discovered by our hero Eddie Russett. Colour is used for healing, for social status, to determine marriages and social engineering like who can have children, for all sorts of things.
The story is brilliantly constructed. We are led into Eddie's world bit by bit, until it even seems normal to think that people can only see one kind of colour (I have a friend who is severely red-green colourblind so this concept was not completely alien). I recognised elements of classic dystopias like 1984 and Brave New World, but it was so much cleverer and funnier than either of them! Highly recommended, and I really can't wait until the sequel comes out - apparently it's to be called Shades of Grey: Painting by Numbers (technically the first one is Shades of Grey: the Road to High Saffron). Interesting to see where he takes this world!
I have been re-reading Shades of Grey, the first book in a new series set in a dystopic England - well, it's the same geography but not the same land! Most dystopias start off with the event and look at society's spiral to disaster - Jasper has what he refers to as "the Something that Happened" 700 years in the past, and no-one really cares about it! The key premise of the book is that in this society, people are categorised by their ability to see colour: Purples are at top of the social scale, followed by Blue, Yellow, Orange, Green, Red, and then Greys who can't see any colour at all. There is an organisation called National Colour who artificially colour things with "univisual colour" that everyone can see. The society is completely hierarchical, but underneath the strict social patterning there is a veritable nest of nastiness discovered by our hero Eddie Russett. Colour is used for healing, for social status, to determine marriages and social engineering like who can have children, for all sorts of things.
The story is brilliantly constructed. We are led into Eddie's world bit by bit, until it even seems normal to think that people can only see one kind of colour (I have a friend who is severely red-green colourblind so this concept was not completely alien). I recognised elements of classic dystopias like 1984 and Brave New World, but it was so much cleverer and funnier than either of them! Highly recommended, and I really can't wait until the sequel comes out - apparently it's to be called Shades of Grey: Painting by Numbers (technically the first one is Shades of Grey: the Road to High Saffron). Interesting to see where he takes this world!
14 March 2011
Lent
It's Monday of the first full week of Lent.
I always find this an interesting season in the Church's year. I have blogged about this before, many times (one of my favourite reflections on Lent was one I wrote for the Community last year). Lent is always a mixed time: at work, this time of year is often one of our busiest (prompting me to advise the training administrators that I was not available for out-of-town travel for Holy Week way back in September last year!); but it's also the time of year when we try to be most open to listening for the whisper of God in all the "muchness and many-ness" (Richard Foster).
I am not part of a Lenten study group this year, mostly for logistical reasons, but I have chosen a Lenten study book. Merton and Hesychasm is a series of essay studies and papers of how Thomas Merton's thought was influenced by the Eastern Orthodox church and thinkers. Besides being a really serious theological read, it's also a very beautifully written book with a great deal of depth. Basically, the point the writers are making is that hesychasm (the "prayer of the heart", the regular use of a short simple prayer such as the Jesus Prayer, "Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner") can, over time, become both a point of focus for the heart to come back to, and a source of inner deepening and conversion of the heart.
There's a lot of Eastern Orthodox theology here that I'm not that familiar with, but I have experimented with the use of the Jesus Prayer (for me, often linked with the rosary - I have started to move to using the Jesus Prayer instead of the Hail Mary for the decade beads) and am finding that it is a wonderful way of helping me stay centred. It doesn't always work - well, more honestly, I don't always work at it! - but I am reminded of the suggestion of one of the Community Guardians when I was formulating my Rule of Life. He suggested that I try to not only pray "in my cell" (in my inner prayer space inside), but I try to live and work from there too.
Alongside this, there have been the horrific events in the world. Christchurch's earthquake and casualties from 22 February is all too close to home; but now, there's also an unbelievable M9.0 earthquake and 10m tsunami in Japan that has literally obliterated huge parts of the country - whole towns have simply disappeared. More scary still (if this is possible) is the fact that three of Japan's nuclear reactors are in a critical state, damaged by the earthquake, and one of their major oil refineries is burning down. I find it hard to believe the photos: they are terrifying. I keep returning to something Dean Peter Beck of ChristChurch Cathedral said, "This isn't an "Act of God". This is the planet, doing it's thing. The Act of God is in the love and compassion we show to each other." (paraphrased).
I always find this an interesting season in the Church's year. I have blogged about this before, many times (one of my favourite reflections on Lent was one I wrote for the Community last year). Lent is always a mixed time: at work, this time of year is often one of our busiest (prompting me to advise the training administrators that I was not available for out-of-town travel for Holy Week way back in September last year!); but it's also the time of year when we try to be most open to listening for the whisper of God in all the "muchness and many-ness" (Richard Foster).
There's a lot of Eastern Orthodox theology here that I'm not that familiar with, but I have experimented with the use of the Jesus Prayer (for me, often linked with the rosary - I have started to move to using the Jesus Prayer instead of the Hail Mary for the decade beads) and am finding that it is a wonderful way of helping me stay centred. It doesn't always work - well, more honestly, I don't always work at it! - but I am reminded of the suggestion of one of the Community Guardians when I was formulating my Rule of Life. He suggested that I try to not only pray "in my cell" (in my inner prayer space inside), but I try to live and work from there too.
Alongside this, there have been the horrific events in the world. Christchurch's earthquake and casualties from 22 February is all too close to home; but now, there's also an unbelievable M9.0 earthquake and 10m tsunami in Japan that has literally obliterated huge parts of the country - whole towns have simply disappeared. More scary still (if this is possible) is the fact that three of Japan's nuclear reactors are in a critical state, damaged by the earthquake, and one of their major oil refineries is burning down. I find it hard to believe the photos: they are terrifying. I keep returning to something Dean Peter Beck of ChristChurch Cathedral said, "This isn't an "Act of God". This is the planet, doing it's thing. The Act of God is in the love and compassion we show to each other." (paraphrased).
25 September 2010
Random bits
Lots of random things going on in my head at the moment. Maybe if I put some of it out there it will make more sense!
Last weekend was Synod, the governance meeting of the Wellington Diocese of the Anglican Church in Palmerston North. I was elected as one of our parish's Synod Reps, which is pretty cool - I went last year as an under-35 rep (which meant that I had speaking rights but not voting rights) and found it really interesting. I was really happy to get elected as the representative this year, and hubby came along as the under-35 rep.
This was a non-legislative Synod, which meant we were dealing more with reports from Diocesan committees than passing changes to canon law. It was a great weekend. Hearing some of the ways that God has been working through our Anglican Church was really inspiring, and see some of the changes we made at last year's Synod starting to take effect. One thing that we did last year was pass a covenanting process for new Diocesan religious orders, and Urban Vision took advantage of that. I spent quite a bit of time talking with some of the Urban Vision people, sharing our stories of religious and community life. I went to the Synod vested so spent a huge amount of time talking to people and explaining the call that I am following!
The Saturday night Thai meal with the rest of the Belmont Archdeaconry was awesome - great food, great company, and a wonderful chance to get to know some of the other Synod Reps a bit better. Had a fantastic conversation over dinner with one of the other Reps who had served in the NZ Army and had been a peacekeeper in all sorts of places. We were talking about the work being done in peacekeeping work by our Forces and what that actually means. It was so interesting, and it was really good to get a much better idea of what we mean when we send people overseas.
This week has been a frantic finishing of my final assignment for University - final final, as in the last one I have to do for this qualification! I have one more piece of assessment - a 3-hour exam - and then I'm done! Finished! Kaput! Finite! Applying to graduate - again! I get to add another bit of regalia to my academic dress and another collection of letters after my name - and attend another graduation ceremony (I quite like these so that's okay). Unfortunately, the down-side is that I have to prepare my exam notes and actually revise them....
At Synod, one of the cool things was that the Anglican Resource Centre had a stand there. Predictably, I went to have a bit of a look and found two books which looked good. Into the Silent Land by Martin Laird has turned out to be the most amazing book on the spiritual life that I've ever read. Period. He's a contemplative, and he writes about the practice of contemplation from a practical perspective. It's a wonderful little book - a how-to as well as what-happens-if-you-do. He draws on a number of the major writers, including the Desert Fathers, St John of the Cross, the writer of the Cloud, the hesychasts, and others. Making a big difference for me!
And next week, I'm off to Christchurch for work... hoping to see my sister and brother-in-law, and I will be interested to see how they are getting on with the rebuilding and other work after the earthquake.
Last weekend was Synod, the governance meeting of the Wellington Diocese of the Anglican Church in Palmerston North. I was elected as one of our parish's Synod Reps, which is pretty cool - I went last year as an under-35 rep (which meant that I had speaking rights but not voting rights) and found it really interesting. I was really happy to get elected as the representative this year, and hubby came along as the under-35 rep.
This was a non-legislative Synod, which meant we were dealing more with reports from Diocesan committees than passing changes to canon law. It was a great weekend. Hearing some of the ways that God has been working through our Anglican Church was really inspiring, and see some of the changes we made at last year's Synod starting to take effect. One thing that we did last year was pass a covenanting process for new Diocesan religious orders, and Urban Vision took advantage of that. I spent quite a bit of time talking with some of the Urban Vision people, sharing our stories of religious and community life. I went to the Synod vested so spent a huge amount of time talking to people and explaining the call that I am following!
The Saturday night Thai meal with the rest of the Belmont Archdeaconry was awesome - great food, great company, and a wonderful chance to get to know some of the other Synod Reps a bit better. Had a fantastic conversation over dinner with one of the other Reps who had served in the NZ Army and had been a peacekeeper in all sorts of places. We were talking about the work being done in peacekeeping work by our Forces and what that actually means. It was so interesting, and it was really good to get a much better idea of what we mean when we send people overseas.
This week has been a frantic finishing of my final assignment for University - final final, as in the last one I have to do for this qualification! I have one more piece of assessment - a 3-hour exam - and then I'm done! Finished! Kaput! Finite! Applying to graduate - again! I get to add another bit of regalia to my academic dress and another collection of letters after my name - and attend another graduation ceremony (I quite like these so that's okay). Unfortunately, the down-side is that I have to prepare my exam notes and actually revise them....
At Synod, one of the cool things was that the Anglican Resource Centre had a stand there. Predictably, I went to have a bit of a look and found two books which looked good. Into the Silent Land by Martin Laird has turned out to be the most amazing book on the spiritual life that I've ever read. Period. He's a contemplative, and he writes about the practice of contemplation from a practical perspective. It's a wonderful little book - a how-to as well as what-happens-if-you-do. He draws on a number of the major writers, including the Desert Fathers, St John of the Cross, the writer of the Cloud, the hesychasts, and others. Making a big difference for me!
And next week, I'm off to Christchurch for work... hoping to see my sister and brother-in-law, and I will be interested to see how they are getting on with the rebuilding and other work after the earthquake.
8 September 2010
Bits and Butchers
Another day, another ? Not quite sure what I'm thinking about really. Feeling a bit tired and a bit down - I've spent a lot of time over the last few days praying for Canterbury, listening to the news, seeing pictures of the destruction, and writing my final university assignment - which incidentally is about the sinking of the TEV Wahine, one of New Zealand's worst sea disasters. I know my tired and down is nothing to what Cantabrians are feeling - with nearly 300 aftershocks since Saturday, I guess no-one is getting much sleep and reality is hitting home....
So, I'm looking for a brighter note. And probably the one I can find right now is a new author I discovered the other day - well, new to me anyway. His name is Jim Butcher, and he writes books that are a combination of detective and wizard - a wizard, living in Chicago, who gets called in to consult on messy detective cases and finds out whether there is any involvement from what is described as the "Nevernever". They are very funny, very clever, and very well written. A bright spot in recent events. They're collectively called The Dresden Files and I would definitely recommend them, especially if you like fantasy writing.
So, I'm looking for a brighter note. And probably the one I can find right now is a new author I discovered the other day - well, new to me anyway. His name is Jim Butcher, and he writes books that are a combination of detective and wizard - a wizard, living in Chicago, who gets called in to consult on messy detective cases and finds out whether there is any involvement from what is described as the "Nevernever". They are very funny, very clever, and very well written. A bright spot in recent events. They're collectively called The Dresden Files and I would definitely recommend them, especially if you like fantasy writing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)