Genesis: History or Promise?

Consider the following statement: If you attempt to read the first eleven chapters of Genesis as history, as if the details are factually true, you will miss much of the richness of the text and in fact miss the message inherent in these texts. What is your personal reaction to this statement?

I agree wholeheartedly!

I think that trying to read this material as factually correct history would be a major obstacle to faith in God, because I can’t understand how a reasonable, intelligent and well-informed person living in today’s world where we have access to so much sound scientific information, would be able to reconcile all of the contradictory “facts” that abound in the stories of Genesis 1-11. Such a reading would likely encourage one to engage in an implacable attempt to disprove all scientific information that disagrees with the text.

As all good scientists know, it’s a bad idea to start your investigations with a conclusion in mind: one has to remain impartial, familiarise oneself with established scientific principles and accepted truths in any given field, devise carefully structured experiments and observe the evidence that presents itself. Hypotheses are formulated from observation, and theories develop from hypotheses. While some hypotheses can never be proven, they can be disproven. Good science recognises this, and is always open to further investigation and discovery. Claiming that one’s findings are ever absolute and incontrovertible truth is not a rational way to do science.

If one takes science seriously – and I do, because I have no valid reason to do otherwise – one couldn’t read Gn 1-11 as an entirely scientific report.

I find it a much more satisfying endeavour to read the text with a view to exploring the richness of the storytelling and the message that the writers were trying to convey through their accounts.

Of course, if the details were actually true and consistent – with accepted scientific fact, as well as between the various versions of events presented in scripture – then I think it would be possible to read the account as a history and also get the intrinsic theological message: in that case there would be no conflict of the reader’s interests, no either/or condition. Just because something is factual doesn’t mean it can’t be theological as well.

[I tacked on that last proviso just in case some bright spark manages to rework the contents of the canon so that there are no inconsistencies in the text, and just in case science finds the particulars of such last remaining origins story to be true in the next millennium! You just never know…]

A Beautiful Mind. Extended Version.

A friend of yours has asked you for advice about enrolling for a short course on the New Testament. Write your friend a letter of encouragement giving reasons why he or she should enrol.

My dearest and bestest buddy

I’m stunned that you’re interested in studying the New Testament! But I’m excited at the same time, because it’s a book that has had a profound impact on my life, and I’m sure that it will have a similar effect on you. I can’t say how, exactly. But I know that reading it will enrich your experience of life on earth, because there are so many things about this planet that just don’t make sense without an appreciation of the contents of the canon. Then again, I think you already know I feel that way, because you’ve asked me more questions about faith in this last year than you did in the sum of the other 14 years we’ve known each other. And I never feel qualified to answer all of your questions: I am flattered that you trust me enough to ask me, and I always try to answer as honestly as I can, but really, the best thing you can do is to search for your own answers. You will find them!

Right. Enrolling for a course is a great idea, because otherwise you might find yourself bogging down quite quickly, there is just so much material, and so many areas of interest. It can be quite overwhelming. There are a few foundation stones that will help you, and a good short course will cover the basics of these:

1. Understanding the nature and origin of the New Testament
2. Learning how to read the New Testament – appreciating styles of writing and different genres
3. Appreciating the political and social world of the New Testament
4. Gaining insight into the religious and philosophical world of New Testament times

The NT was developed over a long period of time, and it will help if you understand how it all came together, who was involved in the writing and the way in which writers sourced their material: these books didn’t fall out of the sky with Gideon’s Bible stamped on the cover! The more you understand how the works came to be, the more fully you will appreciate the contents. Otherwise one risks reading most of the material out of context and making overly literal or just plain wrong interpretations of the texts, and we both know how badly that can go: we’ve both seen too many people suffer as a result of sincere but ill-informed Christians forcing their narrow-minded understanding of the Bible on the people around them. That’s unfortunately the experience of religion that sticks in people’s memories and keeps them from encountering a loving, merciful, good God.

The Gospels are a huge challenge, but if you stick with them you will learn surprising things. You’ll also understand why there are four Gospels and not just one. You’ll figure out why pastors always tell new Christians to read John’s Gospel: it’s packed full of theology! Studying Acts will help you to understand a great many things that go on in the average Christian church that might seem a bit bizarre otherwise. And then there are the letters, most of them by Paul. Yes, yes, I know: that misogynist. But there’s more to Paul than chauvinism, I promise: there are some real gems of wisdom lurking in this fascinating man’s psyche. And while you may learn something about Paul while you scrutinise his letters, you will definitely learn something about yourself. Your course might or might not include a segment on the book of Revelation: if it focuses on apocalyptic literature as a genre, you will learn something useful; if it encourages you to count verses and do complex calculations about the number of earthquakes that have happened in the last year in order to get a fix on the exact day the world will end… run away, screaming “Aaargh, bad movie, Nicolas Cage, bad movie!!”

All of that said, if you gain nothing else from your New Testament course, you will feel the satisfaction that comes from seeing how ingeniously the Gospel texts were put together. Matthew, Mark and Luke would have made amazing colleagues in our sub-editor days; I would have loved to watch any one of them handle that Germany travel guide that gave me so many headaches!

Okay, right – I must dash, pressing business. Call me if you have any questions, okay?! Love you. S

Hunting High and Low

Reflect on the Christologies of Karl Rahner and Albert Nolan. What similarities and what differences do you detect? What approach do you prefer, and why?

Rahner and Nolan’s Christologies are similar in that they are both reflecting on what they know and understand (or concede that they don’t know and don’t understand) about divinity and humanity, and using that understanding (or lack thereof) as a basis for exploring a fuller understanding of God, and Jesus as both man and God.

Their Christologies are different in that:

• Rahner is doing high Christology and approaching the question from the top down: starting with what he knows of God and the nature of divinity and working his way into understanding the meaning and implications of Jesus’ divinity for his humanity – i.e. because he is fully God, he is able to be most fully human and be loving and compassionate and everything that God is, as a human being; and
• Nolan is doing low Christology and approaching the question from the bottom up: starting with what he knows about Jesus’ humanity and working his way into understanding the meaning and implications of Jesus’ humanity for his embodiment of divinity – i.e. because we see Jesus the man being loving and compassionate and everything that he is as a person, we are able to understand something of the nature of God, whose divinity lives fully and is fully expressed in Jesus the man.

I prefer both approaches, I can’t choose just one! They’re completely complementary.

I hold fast to the notion that I myself am really only able to be loving by God’s spirit at work in me: left to my own very human devices I instinctively become selfish and mean, whereas in working at being open and available to God’s presence and love I am more able to see further than my own self­-serving agendas, and have mercy and compassion for other people, and do kind things for God’s sake that I would otherwise not do. At some point, if I let God’s spirit get enough of a foothold, I may even find that I will learn to be able to forgive! From this starting point, I like Rahner’s approach: if Jesus was fully human he must have had moments of human weakness and wilfulness – but because he was fully divine he was able to transcend his every weakness and be continuously present to the people around him, absolutely faithful to his mission, and always mindful of his Father’s presence in the depths of his very being. (We mere mortals can only aspire to this, and gaze in wonder and awe!)

At the same time, I am completely puzzled by the whole question of God, and some days I even wonder if there IS a God, or if I’m holding onto a lovely fantasy that makes it easier for me to get through the tough times and challenges. Religion is the opium of the … minorities, and all of that. Seriously, what can a person actually know about God?! Especially given how much scientific evidence there isn’t for his existence?! And from this starting point, I like Nolan’s approach: if Jesus was fully divine, then taking what I know of Jesus the man and how he lived and loved and got through his days, and extrapolating that to speak to me about divinity, then I begin to see God all around me in the people I encounter everyday. These are average folk, who are as loving and as kind as they are able to be, even in the midst of their struggles and heartaches. Wow. Finding God this close is enough to take your breath away! Amen.

Fanmail

Write a short letter (about a page) to one of the four evangelists (Mark, Matthew, Luke or John) thanking him for his Gospel and telling him what it is that you really like about it.

Dear Luke,

Thanks for your Gospel. Here’s what I really like about it:

You don’t waffle and keep on repeating things for effect the way Matthew does, and although he’s doing it for dramatic effect and it could be said that he’s using wonderful literary style and clever devices, sometimes he makes me feel that he must think I am stupid. You don’t do that, and I appreciate your estimation of my intellect. Clear communication of information is a huge help to me.

Your telling of the story is quite pragmatic and although you do include stern warnings, you write them in such a matter-of-fact way that the reader’s focus doesn’t dwell in the dark but shifts effortlessly into the light. The way you structure your information leads your reader quite effectively to a place of hope and trust. You don’t deny the darkness – in fact you’re quite scary in how much you talk about Satan and the very real power of darkness compared to any of the other Gospel writers – but you never let us feel like darkness will have the last word, you always shift us into a position of hope and faith in God’s power and goodness.

Thanks for keeping your telling of the Beatitudes on the level. The mountaintop experiences where we catch a glimpse of who Jesus really is, are amazing and give us food for the journey. But the reality is that the bulk of our lives are lived on the floor of our existence: in our domestic relationships, our earning a crust, our ministry, our play, and all of the unscheduled crises that go on around us on a daily basis. Giving us Jesus’ amazing teachings in this context helps me to feel less guilty about living a life on the ground, amongst the people and their noise and bustle. You don’t make me feel like I need to escape my life in order to encounter Jesus and hear him speak to me.

I also really appreciate your sense of liturgy as a living thing: so much of your Gospel lends itself to daily communal prayer in the midst of all of the busyness; it is real and alive and present and calling out for simple participation. Awesome stuff, and so very beautiful.

Oh, and I love that you include the bit about Jesus calling Herod a fox! Haha! Classic!!

I could write twenty more pages, but nevertheless I must go on my way today and tomorrow: I’m preparing for a youth camp with 40 hooligan kids from Tafelsig. And the third day? Well, I wish I was finishing my course, but there’s a bit more to go yet! In the meantime it cannot be that a student should perish away from her books; I’ll catch you on the flipside.

With loads of love and grateful appreciation,
Sister Christian

P.S. I also like that your Gospel’s traditional symbol is an ox. One of my other heroes was distinguished for referring to himself as a “dumb ox” – and it’s clear that in both of your cases “the ox knows its owner”. I can only hope that someday Isaiah’s text might apply to me too: “the ass knows its master’s crib”. I am most grateful to you because I think your Gospel might be of some assistance in that regard! (Please excuse the asinine pun, it was from top to bottom accidental, and certainly no matter of substance).

P.P.S. I was only bold enough to include that last parenthetical attempt at comedy because I know from your Gospel that you have a wry sense of humour and would be able to handle my chutzpah!

P.P.P.S Yes, I know, after lambasting him in my intro, I’m being a bit Matthean now myself. Sorry!!

Ball of Confusion

Write a reflection about your experience of studying the New Testament, and include any observations you might have about parallels between first century CE Palestine and your own country

The thing that I find difficult about reading the New Testament is the sense that one gets about how much struggle and conflict there has been between people of faith throughout the history of the church. Everyone has the best intentions of knowing and understanding and keeping God happy, but out of these good intentions arises a fearful attempt to control and manage faith: so much of the story of the development of the New Testament seems to be a bunfight about who was right, or who was more convinced they were right and able to assert their claims in this regard, even going as far as burning people at the stake if they didn’t like a translation of a text, or the fact that someone didn’t know their place well enough to know that they shouldn’t dare involve themselves in the business of trying to understand or talk or write about God! And so much of this conflict was over language, which in itself is completely inadequate as a means of expressing the nature of God. Good grief, what is it with people? Talk about a manufacturing fault – maybe I should write a letter of complaint to Him about that:

“Dear Sir, you could have toned down the human gut-level fight-or-flight fear instinct you programmed into your creatures. Is there any chance you can rectify the problem with the next batch before planet-wide distribution?”

The other thing that is significant is being reminded that the modern mind probably works quite differently in some respects from the minds of ancient times: I wouldn’t know how to un-80’s my head enough to begin to grasp what those old Greek ideas of divinity were all about. My love of Greek mythology I imbibed as a secondary effect of hero-worshipping Magnum and MacGyver: if the god of Hawaii had Zeus and Appollo for guard dogs on Robin Masters’ estate, and the god of the creative quick-fix-in-a-pinch knew stuff about Greek gods that could help him solve complex cat­-and­-mouse riddles put to him by his nemesis, then by Jove it made sense that I too should know at least something about Kronos, Chaos, Dyonisus, Eros, Hades and all of the rest. You never know when you might need to get yourself out of major nonsense, with nothing to help you but a bottle of wine, a charming smile and no fear of hell! So clearly I have a lot to learn before I even begin to understand how Greek thought has impacted Christian thinking.

Even though the thinking might have been quite different back then, it seems that first century Palestine was quite like modern-day South Africa: the rich and the poor we still have! We might not have kings, but we do have tribal leaders, and politicians and church officials, big business, SARS, and corporate conglomerates buying up land and leaving the poor nowhere to lay their heads. We have middle class artisans, dwindling numbers of priests and small farmers, who are still often in debt. We have the workers, the unemployed, people who have been trafficked, and the sick and disabled, who often live on grants and alms (or whatever people on the train are willing to toss into the blind singing beggar’s tin cup on a Monday morning while they wend their way to work nursing hangovers and pondering the intrigues and excesses of the weekend now past).

First century Palestinian society had:

• Sadduccees: we have the Christian equivalent in the “prosperity churches” where they preach that you reap what you sow and that material wealth is a sign of God’s blessing on your life. If you’re not reaping, you can’t be sowing in faith, brother!
• Pharisees: we have arch-conservative Catholics who know Church teaching so well that it’s clear everyone around them just doesn’t measure up to the Catechism and will contaminate their children if they aren’t homeschooled.
• Scribes: we have doctors of Canon Law.
• Zealots: we have … um… Bikers for Christ who wear their leathers and look tough on a Sunday morning breakfast run, as well as many other more anonymous people who send volumes of Christian chain letters through the email demanding that Christians must prove to Jesus how much they love him by forwarding said letters to at least 12 people who are not Christian and need to hear about Jesus before they die and go to hell. It’s violence of another sort.
• Samaritans: we have Jehovah’s Witnesses – who don’t have their own territory as such (outside of their Kingdom Halls), but who are probably at least as hated as the Samaritans were, and whose brand of Christianity strikes most Christians as false. They’re not an entirely bad bunch; I have an uncle and some cousins who count themselves among the 144,000.
• Essenes: we have Calvanists and Seventh Day Adventists, among others.
• Herod the Great, Herod Antipas and Pontius Pilate: we have JZ, Julius and Judge Hlope. Ok, so they’re not quite the same thing. I couldn’t find better analogies!
• Academy of Jamnia: we have the Council of Churches.

If you think about it, everything changes so much, and yet everything remains the same. I’m starting to sympathise with the writer of Ecclesiastes: vanity of vanities, all things are vanity! What profit has man from all the labour which he toils at under the sun? One generation passes and another comes, but the world forever stays.

I console myself that the last word, when all is heard, is to fear God and keep his commandments, for this is man's all; because God will bring to judgment every work, with all its hidden qualities, whether good or bad. Thanks be to God!

Ye-eah We Wept, When We Remembered Zion

How would you have felt if you were in Paul’s place as a prisoner, after all you had tried to do to bring others to know and love the Risen Jesus? From what we read in Acts, how do you think Paul feels? Is there a lesson in this for us?

If I were in Paul’s place as a prisoner after all I had tried to do to bring others to know and love the Risen Jesus, I would be an absolute wreck: fuming at the injustice of it, frustrated by my own inefficacy and inability to solve the problem, disappointed in the God who was supposed to keep me safe from all harm while I worked in His name, indignant that my fellow workers hadn’t done more to save my bacon or at the very least end up in the clink with me…! I would be writing a mental autobiography that cast me as the betrayed hero down on her luck and alone against a cruel and indifferent world, and I would be loudly singing Boney-M style laments intended to torture anyone within earshot.

From what I read in Acts, Paul is an interesting and complex character, and while I find it difficult to imagine or empathise with how he feels, the things that he says and does show that he’s steadfastly committed to sticking with the task that God has given him, and making every effort to restrain himself from doing or saying anything that might sabotage his own best intentions and efforts.

When he is falsely accused, he doesn’t become aggressively defensive but manages to be diplomatic (Acts 24:10) and states the facts of his case: he knows he has right on his side. When his trial is postponed and he is kept in custody, he bears it out: he dares to speak to Felix about righteousness, self-restraint and the coming judgement (Acts 24:25), and even though he stops short of making a personal inference for Felix that he would be judged for failing to do justice for Paul, Felix probably hears the implication just before he becomes frightened. So I think Paul is being a bit of an undercover bully – which takes serious chutzpah and a lot of reliance on his status as a Roman citizen. And so Felix and Paul play a bit of cat-and-mouse (Acts 24:26) that seems to go on for two years before Felix makes a last play of leaving Paul in prison to be dealt with by the next governor.

When Paul is again falsely accused, and the new governor makes a political play to move the trial to Jerusalem in order to score points with the Jews (Acts 25:9), Paul insists on his due and appeals to Caesar. Before Paul is taken to Caesar, Festus brings him before King Agrippa – and Paul, whose patience must have been wearing thin by this time, is ever the diplomat (Acts 26:2-3) as he tells his story, publicly confesses his previous errors in dealing with the Way, and explains in detail the reasons he has for the choices he has made: even when his reasons might make him sound like a delusional madman. When he is indeed accused of being mad, he holds his ground and speaks assertively, even persuasively. He prays for those who are persecuting him (Acts 26:29).

Then he gets sent on a sea journey, and he warns his captors that setting sail is a bad idea (Acts 27:9-10). Even so, they set sail and disaster strikes. Paul takes a moment to squeeze in an “I­-told-you-so” (Acts 27:21) but he nevertheless depends on God to save him and everyone else – and he shares his conviction and the message he received from the angel (Acts 27:23-26). He continues to shepherd everyone aboard through each uncertain moment of the unfolding drama. He gives clear directions, he tells people what is expected of them, and he cares for their needs. Paul’s mere presence is enough to save his fellow prisoners from death (Acts 27:42-43). On landing on Malta, Paul has the rotten luck to get bitten by a snake, and the people around him take this as evidence of how he must have deserved some kind of punishment. Paul doesn’t berate them or wish snakes on them in return; he just calmly carries on with the business of living and curing the sick.

And so the story continues: some form of disaster strikes or some persecution is encountered, and Paul unwaveringly and unceasingly relies on God. He’s quietly determined to keep going, to persevere in speaking the truth about God’s kingdom and about Jesus as best he can whenever he’s given the opportunity. He remains open to dialogue and welcomes all comers. There is a great deal to be learnt from Paul’s example! I could do a bit less “fighting-to-convince-people-that-I’m-right” and more “calmly-and-assuredly-asserting-the-truth-of-God’s-love”. And if I can’t resist the compulsion to squeeze in an occasional “I-told-you-so”… well… I sure hope it won’t come back to bite me. And if it does, then I’m counting on Paul to put in a good word on my behalf with the Boss!

Battered Suitcases Piled on the Sidewalk Again

Reflect on Paul’s strategy of re-visiting the Christian communities that he had founded. Does this practice of his hold any lesson for you in your own life, or for your own church community?

The obvious lesson in Paul’s strategy of re-visiting the Christian communities that he founded is that those of us who are in ministry need to understand and appreciate that consistent follow-through is necessary. It’s not enough to sow seed once and then move on to other ground and hope that what has been done will be sufficient: one has to tend to what one has planted, and sow further seed where necessary.

If I think about my personal development and growth as a Christian, I can give credit to particular individuals who have guided and taught and supported me along the way. And because I’m a fairly insecure person, I need a whole lot of reassurance! So the people who have encouraged my growth have on frequent occasions reminded me of things I had been told previously. I’m a bit like the guy who looks in the mirror and then goes away and forgets what he looks like. The Christians around me are my mirror – as long as I keep seeing myself (that is, who I am in God) reflected back to me in the things they tell me and show me, then it’s so much easier to remember who I am called to be, and to continue to live that reality.

From this perspective, it’s hardly surprising that burgeoning Christian communities would need some support and encouragement from leaders in ministry who can continue to remind them what they are called to be: to hold up a mirror so that people can see the truth of their situation, appreciate what’s good, identify what needs work, and be able to monitor their own progress in this regard over a period of time.

Growth in relationship is also important. The Good News is all about a relational God who calls people into relationship with himself and with other people. So it follows logically that there should also be relational development between ministers and the community. For a community to receive input from a skilled and insightful “travelling consultant” can be useful, but it’s far more helpful for a community if a minister is able to speak to their particular situation and context by applying his/her skill and insight to the community’s lived reality. This means that the minister has to make return visits, and spend some time getting to know the people and the issues that affect the community, in order to be able to give constructive input that will effect positive change and growth over time.

People Come To Church To Daydream About God

Reflect on Luke’s description of the ideal Christian community and on ways in which your own parish or Christian community compares favourably with that description. Reflect also on ways in which his description is a challenge to your community. Write a one-page summary of your reflections.

I have had a variety of different experiences in parish communities. As far as my current parish is concerned, I am a member because I don’t have the option to choose otherwise at this point in time: the novitiate house is right next door to the church. As I’ve mentioned in my previous portfolio piece, this is a very traditional and conservative parish, which is not a problem in itself, I just don’t feel very free to express my thoughts or feelings about my spiritual journey, or talk about the truth of my life before coming to Christ: which is the basis for understanding how much of a difference an experience of the Holy Spirit has made in my life. It’s also the basis for understanding how much of a difference a vibrant and welcoming parish community can make to ‘outsiders’ who are looking for a way to come to Christ themselves and who would participate fully in the life of the church if they found true communion!

I regard the Church of the Resurrection in Table View as my spiritual home, where I can say that I have had an experience of koinonia: real community, warm fellowship and intimate friendship – and a sense that there was a place for everyone in the parish, whether they were conservative or progressive, whether they were contemplative or charismatic. There may have been some pointing and laughing from one group to another, but generally the different groups accepted that it was okay that there were differences, “to each, his own”, and all of the groups would join in and help make the various parish initiatives (and fundraisers!) a roaring success. Amongst my Alpha Course friends there was also evidence of incredible material generosity: people gave whatever they could to whoever needed something, without keeping score or expecting anything in return. Parish life lived and breathed in the many small prayer groups that met regularly: some on a weekly basis, some three mornings a week (at 6am!), and the parish intercessory team was available to pray for whatever needs people had. There wasn’t an adoration chapel, but that didn’t mean people weren’t praying around the clock! Liturgical celebrations were well prepared and well attended, and were a source of grace in more than just theory. There were also plenty of opportunities to participate in a variety Bible study groups and other pastoral activities and ministries, so there were lots of opportunities for getting teaching from ‘‘the apostles”. The more I reflect on my time at the Church of the Resurrection, the more I realise how incredibly blessed I was to have found that kind of community at the moment in my life when I most desperately needed to experience God’s love and merciful kindness.

And as much as I’m grappling with my current parish experience and telling myself that I’m idealising my time in Table View, I am really battling with being in such a “heady” parish: where knowing and obeying the rules and regulations seems to be a much higher priority for most than understanding the spirit of the law or showing compassionate feeling for people. Even so, it’s not all horrible: there are good people in this parish who do join in with parish activities, and who try to reach out and be supportive of others. The challenges that Luke’s description poses for this particular parish are:

• finding a remedy for the “skinder stories” that do the rounds: too many people freely criticise their fellow parishioners, and it’s not the kind of commentary that helps people to grow in faith or in the exercise of their giftedness, it’s the kind of cruel and snide petty judgemental commentary that “cuts people down to size”, nips a person’s potential ministry efficacy in the bud, breaks down trust and limits the progress of intimacy in relationships, which in turn works against building the kind of community that Luke describes;
• embracing a wider variety of prayer styles: there are a lot of devotional practices on offer, from devotion to the Sacred Heart in the adoration chapel, to various rosary recitations, and benediction; but there’s very little in the way of anything “freestyle”, so it feels like one is obliged to accept very structured prayer as the rule if one wants to participate actively in the community’s prayer life;
• finding a way to soften the hard legal edges on our “formal temple worship”: it would be great if participating in the liturgy of the Eucharist would feel more like breaking of bread amongst friends and less like performing a demanding ballet for the Great Adjudicator who’s just waiting for someone to put a foot wrong so that he can deduct points from the overall score;
• encouraging people to explore the scriptures and the teachings of the Church in an open and respectful discussion forum where thoughtful dialogue is considered to be an invaluable aid to mutual understanding, which in turn is necessary for building healthy community relationships.

Spirited Away

Reflect on what you know already about the way Luke emphasizes the role of the Spirit of God in the lives of the early followers of the Risen Jesus. How does this compare with your own attitude to the Spirit, and the attitude of the local church community to which you belong?

Luke emphasises the presence and action of God’s Holy Spirit in the community of Jesus’ disciples as the inspiration and power behind all of the disciples’ progress in their Christian life: which includes their ability to live in community, and their selfless service/ministry to the world.

My attitude to the Spirit has changed over the years: when I was younger I knew very little about the Spirit and was not attuned to the work of the Spirit in myself or the world around me. When I attended the Alpha Course in 2000 that changed: the “Holy Spirit Weekend” is a significant part of the course and it gave me an opportunity to learn about the Holy Spirit, and to experience the power of the Holy Spirit through prayer, and subsequently to develop an increasing awareness of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit in my life, in the Church, and in the world. As a result, I experienced enormous growth in my prayer life and in my relationships with other people. My personal experience of the Holy Spirit at work in my life was the impetus behind my getting more involved in ministry in my parish, and in taking a stand against participating in things that I believed were morally wrong in my work environment (in the advertising industry), and then going on to work full time for the local Church as a ministries co-ordinator (from 2004-2007). For me, having a more conscious awareness of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit became extremely important, and I sought out companionship with others in my parish who could say the same thing.

Although I had encountered some resistance to “charismatic theology” in my parish (where anyone holding such theology was referred to as the “lunatic fringe” by the more traditional set), it was when I went to work for the Church that I began to experience strong resistance from particular individuals to including anything remotely unstructured, unplanned or intuitive in our attempts to “create religious experience” for participants at our various workshops. At first I was shocked and confused by this: why on Earth would anyone not be excited about leaving room for the power of the Holy Spirit to get to work in individuals, and in the Church? And how on Earth would one propose to create religious experience without including the Holy Spirit? At which point I discovered that “this Holy Spirit business” is extremely controversial: many “solid” Catholics are completely dismissive of anything that looks even remotely “charismatic”. I found this to be very odd, in the face of the many references to the Holy Spirit in the Church’s official documents and teachings.

In time, I began to realise that the resistance I was encountering was not resistance to the Holy Spirit as such, but fear of abuse that might happen in the name of being open to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Who gets to decide what is or isn’t “the leading of the Spirit” and how much freedom do others have to resist or reject instruction from those who claim to speak to them in God’s name? In my time at my ministries job I also heard many sad tales of things that have gone horribly wrong when people have disclaimed responsibility for their choices: instead of participating in decision making, some vulnerable people at times depend on and expect other “prophetic” people to tell them what to do with their lives. A recipe for disaster indeed, if the “prophets” are the least bit megalomaniac and don’t empower people to listen to God’s voice for themselves! Discernment of spirits and discernment of God’s will are extremely difficult grey areas, and there seems to be a strong tendency in parts of the Church to avoid the entire discussion rather than step into the quagmire.

The parish to which I currently belong is a very traditional parish apart from two sweet ladies who sit near the front, on either side of the aisle: one raises her hands and the other sways along to the Sunday hymns, to the chagrin of almost everybody else in the church, for whom these two old ladies are an amusing charismatic oddity. I silently salute them: you GO, girls! But I stand quietly by, afraid of being found out and labelled a lunatic, and losing all credibility – and along with my credibility, my ability to work quietly towards encouraging people to be ever more open to God’s amazing love for them, and to recognise God’s power at work in their lives. Just as long as I never use the word “prophesy” to describe what I’m doing, everything should be alright!