Blogging for Advent. Again.

This year I've had no time for blogging - when academic study prescribes the writing of 20,000 words in a year and work includes producing regular content for a website there's not much head room left for writing for fun! Well, not for me anyway!

But I've always found Advent a useful time to come back to blogging; it's time-bound and contains themes and ideas that are ripe for pondering, and since it's appearing on the horizon once again I'm wondering about using this as a space to explore some of the themes of my MA dissertation, not least because many of those themes are intrinsically linked with Advent and Christmas.

Although I don't yet have a dissertation question, I do have some broad themes that I'm exploring. From a biblical perspective, the key theme is Jesus' identity as the Messiah and at this early stage I'm considering a number of questions:

• What did Jesus understand the concept of Messiah to mean?
• What was the prevailing Jewish understanding of 'the Messiah' during the period of Jesus' earthly ministry?
• What were the points of connection and difference between these two understandings of the Messiah? 
• Who and what do twenty-first century Christians understand the Messiah to be?

So there are some obvious points of connection between Advent and my dissertation, since the purpose of this season of preparation is precisely to reflect on what the Bible has to say about who Jesus is, why he came and what the long-term implications of that coming are.

Therefore, alongside some more academic reading, I've decided to work my way through several different Advent studies in order to reflect more deeply, and from a variety of perspectives, on how this season might shape my academic thinking, and I've started now in order to give myself a little bit of extra time!

I've also taken this decision in part to try and avoid the major pitfall inherent in any kind of theological study, the very real danger that reflection on the nature of who God is becomes an exclusively academic exercise with little or no spiritual or practical value.

But my decision to share this process is a reflection of some of the frustration I've felt over the last few months at not really having a space in which I can explore my thoughts and ideas with others. I'd like to think that this time of year might create space in which others would be interested in exploring this theme of Jesus the Messiah with me.

If that's the case, you might like to try and get hold of one of the Advent studies I'm going to work my way through. They are:

Jeremy Brooks: A Long Way Off: A daily walk from Advent to Christmas ISBN 9781848677265

Stephen Cottrell: Walking Backwards to Christmas ISBN 9780281071470

Maggi Dawn: Beginnings and Endings (and what happens in between): Daily Bible readings from Advent to Epiphany ISBN 9781841015668

Paula Gooder: Journey to the Manger: Exploring the Birth of Jesus ISBN 978848257948

David Thomson: Christmas by Candlelight: Readings and reflections from Advent to Epiphany ISBN 987185078993

(Can I encourage you, where possible, to get hold of these books from your friendly local bookshop - Christian or otherwise - rather than from the Interweb?!)

The Maggi Dawn, Jeremy Brooks and David Thomson books are made up of daily readings and reflections while the other two take up key themes over a number of chapters and contain suggestions for personal and group study.

I'm not entirely sure what shape my blogging will take over the next few weeks; as ever I caveat this entire post with the warning that this may in reality be the last thing I write for another year!!

If you would like to go through this process with me - whatever it ends up looking like! - do leave a comment here or, if you access my blog via Facebook, on the post in which you found this link. Do be forthcoming with ideas, questions, book suggestions or anything else this or future posts (assuming there are some!!) brings to mind.

Thank you!

On being a Judas

As you'll be aware, as part of my Lent reflections I've been listening to John 13-18:14 on my way to work. I was a bit sceptical about how useful it would be because I wasn't that keen on the audio Bible I had, but it's actually been really helpful.

It's been a bit like an extended meditation - not the weird New Age kind but the focusing on a bit of scripture and pondering on it. Sometimes I really listen, sometimes I just allow it to 'happen' in the background as I think about other things. I'm aware that I now associate the different phases of my drive to work with different parts of the story - it'll be interesting whether those bits come back to me after Easter when I'm not listening to the story anymore.

But it's been fascinating to see how different part of the story have struck me, raised questions, prompted me to read other things or go back to the (written) Bible. One thing that's really stuck with me has been the exchange between Jesus and Judas in John 13:21-30. To all intents and purposes, in the moment of this passage, Judas is just a bit player - he doesn't speak, and in verse 30 he leaves and the whole of the rest of the discourse happens in his absence. And yet he is absolutely pivotal to the action of the remaining chapters of John.

There are two things that have really caught my attention. The first is that when Jesus announces that someone is going to betray him, 'his disciples stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant.' (13:22) That suggests there had been nothing in Judas' demeanour, behaviour or speech which gave any indication that he was about to pull the rug out from under the whole endeavour. It's worth remembering, of course, that the disciples have a reputation for regularly failing to grasp the significance of what was going on around them, and often what was going on right in front of them. Clearly Jesus had picked up on something so there must have been some indication that all was not well, which makes it all the more astonishing that Judas was included in the foot-washing and the meal; Jesus is still actively including Judas, extending a hand of friendship to someone who has every intention of sticking the boot in in a big way.

We talk a lot about Judas betraying Jesus, but this account reminds us that Judas is actually betraying the other disciples too - he's been as much a part of their lives as he has been part of Jesus', and at the beginning of the meal he's still very much part of the group, to the extent that some commentaries suggest that Judas was actually sat in the place of honour next to Jesus when this whole sorry saga starts to unfold.

But the other thing that's struck me is that when Jesus hands Judas the piece of bread, Judas doesn't say anything, he simply takes the bread and leaves. He doesn't try to defend himself, or rally support from the others, or even try to deny his intentions. Does he hope Jesus has misunderstood him? Has he got himself so far down a one-way street that he thinks he no longer has any other option? Or does he just not care anymore?

One commentary really helpfully reminded me that Judas was chosen and called by Jesus in exactly the same way he chose and called his other eleven disciples. It can be easy to leap on verses like John 17:12 - 'None has been lost except the one doomed to destruction so that Scripture would be fulfilled.' - to explain away Jesus' call to Judas, but the reality is that we'll never know (this side of eternity) what Jesus saw in Judas, in the same way we'll never see what he saw in the other eleven, but saw something in him he did.

I've found these reflections on Judas pretty challenging. Here's someone called by Jesus who, over a period of time, has managed to cultivate and maintain a role and relationships within an incredibly close-knit group of people whilst at the same time planning to undermine the vision and mission of the man at its heart, whilst managing to largely keep those plans and intentions unnoticed by anyone else. The challenge for me is to reflect on my own attitude and behaviour towards those I work, 'minister' and live with; are there times when the image I project doesn't square with what's really going on inside? are there times when I give the impression that I'm on board with a vision or idea but consciously (or subconsciously) work to undermine it? do I act - privately or publicly - in ways which would cause others to question my call from Jesus?

Let's be frank - we all have the capacity to be a Judas, to such an extent that the name has long been part of the vocabulary we use to describe those who betray or let others down. I'm just not sure I've thought before about how subtle and insidious betrayal can be.

Loving Lent

When I came up with my little plan to think about Shakespeare and leadership and Jesus and me over Lent I was largely thinking of it in terms of being a Good Thing To Do. It would help me to be a bit productive and to be disciplined about how I spend my time and it would help me think about Useful Things.

But the truth is that I'm LOVING it.

Yes, this is a good thing to do, and it is helping me to be productive and disciplined and I am thinking about useful things but I've been taken completely by surprise at how much it's all energising me.

It's stimulating me intellectually in a way that I've really missed over the last few years; it's getting the creative juices flowing; it's shaping my personal reflection in unforeseen ways. Completely unexpectedly, it's resulting in less telly and more walks.

Slightly more predictably, it's prompting more questions than answers, it's opening up new leads rather than tying up loose ends, and it's increasing the length of the reading list rather than reducing it.

It's creating a greater sense of dissatisfaction with the social and political status quo as I experience it (either personally or through what I see on the news or in my Facebook news feed), and it's making me think about my role and responsibilities not just in my work and social spheres but more widely.

And there's still five weeks to go 'til Easter!

Shakespeare, Jesus and me

I realise the title makes this sound like some kind of mid-eighties Christian devotional for children but I think it genuinely sums up my 2014 Lent plan!

In my last blog post I wrote about how my recent encounter with a Newsnight feature on leadership had prompted me to consider undertaking a Lent project around Shakespeare, gender and leadership. As I've explored over the last few days what that might look like, a few thoughts have begun to crystallise.

Probably the most significant is the fact that I realised that a Lent project probably really ought to have a bit more spiritual content! I mentioned that I was considering some kind of theological reflection on Shakespeare's Henry V but I've made a bit of a leap which could turn out to be totally inspired or utterly ridiculous (or, mostly likely, hover in some theological no-man's land between the two). It occurred to me that perhaps there are some interesting parallels between Jesus at the last supper and Henry V immediately before the battle of Agincourt - they're a similar age, they know that what's about to unfold will have a transformational impact on their leadership, and they're leading others into that experience with them. And, of course, they both give great speeches.

And so my plan essentially goes something like this. I'll be reading and listening to John's account of Jesus' time with his disciples sharing the Passover meal - I'm using Tom Wright's John for Everyone Pt2 and The Bible Experience (which, I'll be honest, is a little too over-produced and American to listen to for actual pleasure, but I plan to have it on in the car on the way to work each day).

I'll also be reading Henry IV Pts1&2 and Henry V (using my parents' copy of The Complete Oxford Shakespeare which I'm not sure has ever been read by anyone in our family before).

To aid the leadership reflection I have James Lawrence's Growing Leaders which - sorry, James! - has sat on my bookcase unread for several years. The book outlines the understanding of leadership, specifically Christian leadership, which is at the heart of the Arrow Leadership Programme so hopefully it will provide me with a familiar but challenging framework for reflecting both on leadership generally and my leadership in particular.

And last, but by no means least, there's The Hollow Crown, the BBC's Cultural Olympiad adaptation of Henry IV Pts1&2 and Henry V, for the days when reading Shakespeare gets a bit much...

But why now and why this?

Because over the last few years I've found Lent a good time to intentionally do something in my life differently. I'll be honest, the idea of giving up chocolate or Facebook feels a bit like jumping on the band wagon (although those things can be a really good thing!), and last year I found that taking things up for Lent was a really helpful way of just thinking differently about how I spend my time.

But I've also realised that with life a little more settled, and no pressing need to look for somewhere to live or for a job, I need something to focus my free time on. And even in the last few weeks I've begun to miss the creative arts bit of my life that was so important for such a long time. Entirely unexpectedly I seem to have stumbled over something that will allow me to reflect on things that on one level seem only very loosely related - Jesus, Shakespeare, leadership - and yet they have something to say about the values at the heart of our national life.

But ultimately, my plan (my prayer?) for the next six weeks is that I'll get just a bit closer to Jesus.

At once and immediately

Given that it's Lent I think it's only fair that I try and shoe horn Jesus in here somewhere.

Interestingly, when I started thinking about Jesus and spontaneity it didn't take me long to come up with an example of a story that really challenges me.

Both Matthew and Mark's gospels record Simon (Peter) and his brother Andrew's life-changing encounter with Jesus. The two men are just minding their own business, earning a living, when Jesus turns up and announces, ‘Come, follow me and I will send you out to fish for people'. I suspect that for those of us that have grown up in church this will have become one of those stories that we risk getting a bit 'Whatever' about. This is Jesus - of course there's nothing remotely weird about him just wandering up to people, telling them to drop everything and follow him around. What's no more weird than that is the fact that they do exactly what he says. They drop everything and follow him.

Now this is one of those stories where it's important to compare and contrast with other places in the Bible. John's gospel suggests that before Andrew met Jesus he was already beginning to engage with the teaching and ministry of John the Baptist, describing him as one of John's disciples. Chapter one tells us that when John pointed Jesus out to Andrew and a friend they decided to spend the day with him, the result of which is that Andrew goes and finds his brother and tells him that 'We have found the Messiah'. Once Andrew's spent some time with Jesus, he wants to start introducing him to other people.

So back we go to Matthew and Mark. Let's assume that this is not Andrew and Simon (Peter)'s first encounter with Jesus (as my NIV Study Bible also assumes). These are two men who have spent time with Jesus although probably not very much. Now let's have Jesus walking along the sea shore, reaching the boat and suggesting they ‘Come, follow me and I will send you out to fish for people'. Let's be honest, that makes a bit more sense.

But you still can't get away from the fact that their unequivocal, unhesitating response is pretty impressive. 'At once they left their nets and followed him.' What's that statement actually saying? These two men are walking away from their jobs, their means of earning an income. We know Simon (Peter) was married - in Luke's gospel we hear about Jesus healing his mother-in-law - so you could argue that he's jeopardising his family's well-being.

And yet, 'At once...'

Not 'What a great idea! Let me just finish this catch, make sure there's enough in the bank for a little sabbatical, and pack an overnight bag'.

'At once...'

For me, those are terrifying words.

If you read slightly further on in the same passages, Jesus calls James and John in the same way. Their response? 'Without delay...' (Matthew) and 'Immediately...' (Mark).

Even if we work on the basis (and I'm not sure there's much in the Bible to support this) that maybe Jesus had had a chat with Andrew, Simon, James and John a few days earlier and said, 'I'm thinking of going travelling - are you up for coming with me?', those responses are pretty astonishing. Jesus gives the nod and they get up and go.

I'm not sure I could have done that. I certainly couldn't have just got up and gone, and I suspect that a few days reflection and a list of pros and cons wouldn't have made much difference. It's just too much of a risk.

WWJD?

That was the question I was left asking after a youth work team planning meeting this evening, when I was confronted with an age-old conundrum - how do you effectively exercise leadership and influence in the absence of power and position?

I've been a volunteer youth leader at church for around six months. No-one at church has seen my CV and few have heard very much about my previous youth work experience. I have, as far as I can tell, as much, if not slightly more, theological training as the minister. I'm not an employee of the church, and I'm not part of the church leadership team. In fact I'm not even a church member and that, as any good Baptist will tell you, puts me right at the bottom of the heap when it comes to position.

And yet, my sense is that this is the place God has called me to for this time, that there are significant things I have to offer, and that God is expecting me to offer them, whilst stripping me of the 'tools' that I've been used to having at my disposal - a title, a recognised position of leadership, access to regular opportunities to communicate with the whole church, right of veto over things I think are a bit daft. Or indeed downright ridiculous.

In the past I've talked the language of 'earning the right to speak' but it's only now that I'm beginning to see what that really looks like in practice. I suspect it boils down to investing in relationships. Lots of them. With God. With the young people. With the youth team. With the pastor. With parents, church members, the local community.

There are so many reasons why that's a pretty scary prospect and I'm not sure I can do it. I'm not sure, frankly, that I want to do it.

What would Jesus do?

Light in the darkness

November is a dark month, with the reality of short days and long nights starts to kick in. But over the last few years the darkness of November seems to have become much more personal.

For my family there are some significant anniversaries which fall in November, and this weekend is particularly painful. It's a time that prompts tough questions which seem to have no useful answers. At times the darkness can feel almost overwhelming.

But today also marks the start of Advent, the time when, for hundreds of years, Christians have entered a time of waiting and preparation for Christmas. The first chapter of John's gospel talks of Jesus not as a baby, which tends to be our default at this time of year, but as 'the light of men'. John's 'Advent' was less about looking forward to a birth and more about announcing that 'the light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world'.

This weekend that Advent promise has a dual significance. Jesus has stepped into the world to bring the light of hope and comfort to those close to me who are grieving and I pray that they will be aware of that today. But he also comes to offer that same hope to everyone, whatever the darkness they face.

An underdog story

I've thought of a fourth reason why the real meaning of Christmas should be an easy sell. If there's one thing we Brits love, it's a story in which the underdog wins against all the odds. And let's face it, the Christmas story has no shortage of underdogs.

We have the shepherds, social outcasts invited to be the first visitors of the newborn baby Jesus.

Then there's Mary, with the odds stacked against her in an extraordinary way - a teenage girl who, at the risk of losing her fiance, her reputation, her dignity and her life, responds to Gabriel's announcement of her pregnancy with the courageous, "Yes, I see it all now: I am the Lord's servant maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say".

But the ultimate underdog is surely Jesus himself. We may complain about the NHS but in a world with neither universal health care or a basic understand of the principles of hygiene, God was clearly taking an outrageous risk sending his son, on whose tiny shoulders the future of creation rested, to earth as a baby. I think the matter-of-fact way in which the gospels record this fact, and even John's profound statement that "the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighbourhood" can almost disguise the enormity of God's decision.

But then, the underdog always comes good in the end. Don't they?