Wednesday, 20 May 2020

Space


Life in lockdown has caused me to reflect about space. Confined mostly to our homes, and outside them still restricted in travel and work, we have, I think, become aware of the bounds of our world in a new and pressing way. Life has come to have very clearly defined borders—the home, the trip to work or shop, an hour or so’s walk or bike ride. This has now been partially relaxed (perhaps not wisely, given our country’s lamentable death and infection rates) but spacial restrictions still apply, in some ways more obtrusively. We can go out, chat at a safe distance, but not visit those who mean the most to us.

These restrictions encourage us to find new ways to use space, for reflection, hobby, home improvement, entertainment, deepening relationships and finding tolerance and understanding.

They also has their downside, in frustration, a sense of imprisonment, worry about finances and survival itself. Mental health issues have multiplied. And tragically restricted movement has brought a new freedom to abusers of adults and children, locked away from scrutiny, and has vastly diminished their victims’ chances of escape.

It has raised issues of space for the church, as well, particularly the Church of England. Congregations can no longer meet for worship and fellowship, and in the case of the CofE, even clergy have until recently been strictly forbidden to enter their churches to pray. They could go in to check the building for insurance purposes etc., but definitely not to pray, nor to record or live stream acts of worship. Let us not ask cynical questions about priorities here....

At present, this too is being relaxed, as the bishops back-pedal and recast their dubiously legal instructions as “guidance” and now allow (sorry, advise) limited access for the purposes that the government legislation allowed all along.

We (mostly) all agree that the church is the people, not the place, and that the presence of God is what sanctifies a place. Those who have decried the retreat of the CofE “into the kitchen” (a reference to Justin Welby's broadcast worship from Lambeth Palace’s kitchen, rather than its chapel) are castigated for denigrating the domestic, and “gendering” the debate.

But this seems to miss the main point at issue. Spaces matter. Our bodies delimit us in space, and in many ways govern the way we can act in the world. We share spaces with others, in home and workplaces. Spaces define our communities, and the local areas in which we are comfortable, and those in which we are uneasy, as strangers or lost. We recognise safe p laces and danger zones.

The incarnation involves the Word of God coming into the space of his body, the space of Nazareth, of Galilee and so on. Into the danger zone of the world.

How we use spaces therefore matters. Whether we make them places of safety or danger, welcome or exclusion and above all whether we recognise them as the spaces in which we live out our discipleship. To be a follower of Christ is not about what goes on in our heads but also in the space we occupy, and the actions that we perform there.

Our homes are of course, spaces where discipleship is carried out. Prayer and worship are offered there, service is offered to members of our household (where they exist) and to neighbours, even in these spatially constrained times.

Yet the way we use wider spaces matters too. For a very long time, church buildings have occupied a place in the public space of our communities. They have been a statement that the people of Christ are active in the midst of our shared space. We belong, and have much to offer to the other inhabitants of our local space.

Certainly the danger of infection and disease transmission means that gathering for worship in our historic places of worship is a very bad idea. But to withdraw entirely, to forbid the broadcast of prayer and worship from the space that has long lain at the heart of the local community seems a backward step, a retreat into privacy, that “privatised religion” of which we have long been warned.

So I for one welcome the news that we can now be seen and heard (where bells may safely be chimed) to still be in business in the local space in which we are called to discipleship.

Of course, the church continues to be involved as disciples of Jesus in the public space. Church based food banks (tragically more necessary than ever) continue to operate. Church members, both individually and in an organised way, deliver food packages and offer support and contact to the frail or lonely. This is hugely important. And yet, for the church’s spiritual life to be seen also as part of that public, communal space surely matters more than ever.

Our local church bell chimes each evening at 7.00 p.m. with the message that prayer is being offered, there at the heart of the community, and that prayer undergirds the efforts of many local Christians to live out their faith in love and support for their neighbours.

Sunday, 26 April 2020

Well, after years of being locked out of this blog, Google has finally relented and allowed me to create an account which can access it. No idea how long this will last, but here in retirement, and coronavirus lockdown, it seems worth trying to reactivate my world-shaking insights again. I'll just post this and see whether it shows up, is accessible etc.....

Friday, 4 May 2012

Tat

A couple of days ago I went with Daughter into Manchester. This was a mistake, as a travelling Moroccan market was in town, selling rugs, bags and stuff. Naturally, we reinforced each other's greed and ended up buying a couple of rather nice leather holdalls.

Guilt ensued, so to assuage it a bit we looked into the local Louis Vuitton outlet. Our large leather cases were well into double figures, but there we could buy a small shiny vinyl handbag for over £500. Shiny vinyl handbags were naff in the 1960s. Presumably they are now daringly retro. But still - £500+???

I know the wealthy have to find some way of offloading their moolah, but these things are plastic! And Ugly! However, it's all probably part of a strange mindset in which more is less - at least, that's the only explanation I can come  up with for the strange pricing on an LV outlet site, a typical example of which is

Authentic Louis Vuitton Mahina Leather Shoulder Bags And Totes
Retail Price : $ 254.34
Concessions Price : $ 1272.00
 
Wow, Mum, look! I can pay six times a much here! Is that cool, or what?
 
There's probably an indignant sermon struggling to get out of all this, but on reflection, it's too depressing to think about.

Friday, 6 April 2012

Good Friday

I dig this out now and again for Good Friday, so I thought I'd post it here.

Friday morning

Rooted deep in earth's
Memory
The trees forgot not,
Ravaged
Though they were by men,
Battered
By unnatural storms.
Awake,
They saw and honoured,
Bowing
As one passed who'd been
Unseen
Since the Garden's gates
Were Barred.
All save one dry tree.
Erect,
It kept its hilltop
Vigil.
Lonely it must bear
The weight
Of He Who bore
The world.

Friday, 9 March 2012

Lent and ale

Gave up bread for Lent, but suspect that this will have little spiritual effect, unless I successfully resist the temptation to grumpiness.... I also doubt it will have any positive contribution to the battle for fat loss. Yet somehow it seems necessary to mark the season in a physical sort of way. I must think about that sometime.

Too busy today, though, trying to catch up after a trip to Nottingham to take Daughter to a university interview. It was incredibly nostalgic to wander round the city centre and see how little (superficially) has changed since my student days.

We lunched at the Old Trip to Jerusalem, nowadays a Greene King pub (Sam Smith's in my day) but improved over my last visit a few years ago by the availability of guest ales: Oakham Inferno and Nottingham Brewery Extra Pale Ale to name two palatable ones. Food was OK too, and my duck with hoisin wrap was supposed to be only 450 Calories....

Saturday, 21 January 2012

FOBs

I've just been to the Winter Ale Festival in Manchester. This is one of the largest gatherings of Fat Old Blokes in the country, in which a relatively unbloated FOB like me can feel thinner than the average. I went with Daughter (and her inevitable friend) and met up with Sons, so it was a family outing, though we felt that sitting in the space labelled "Reserved for Families" would take more explaining and arguing than was worth while.

The beers were fine, as usual, though it being Saturday, many of the more popular ones were sold out. I did find Thornbridge's excellent St. Petersburg stout, though, so the afternoon was a complete success.

Friday, 13 January 2012

New Year - no resolutions

Wow! Is it really a year since I put anything on this?

We did our our Christmas card as usual, and adapted the design to be an altar frontal for the Christmas/Epiphany seasons. This is what they looked like.


The card

















The altar frontal












This was pretty well received. At least, several people said they liked it. Those who made no comment may have hated it, of course, but since they didn't say, they don't count.

I did the original drawing, but the transfer to the big screen was mostly done by daughter who acted as studio assitant, or as we nowadays say in the art world, "fabricator". I understand that this means the artist has the idea, and a menial does the actual craftsmanship. It sounds rather a cheat to me, but it does allow me to claim that I am the world's greatest artist. It's just that there is no fabricator equal to the magnificent, but purely mental, vision.

The fabricator also does her own art and you can see some on her own blog here.

Happy New Year.