Belated reflections on Lent

Having made quite a big deal of my 'study' plans for Lent, it doesn't seem right to just leave things hanging, so here's a brief - and really very late - overview of how it was for me. It was a useful time of reflection, but not, perhaps, in the way I might have anticipated.

I've enjoyed the discipline of having a period of time in which intentional reading, studying and reflection was a daily expectation, even though there have been days, and even weekends, when I didn't get round to doing any of those things. I've already reflected a little on 'meditating' on John 13-18:14 in the car on the way to work each day and on some of the new ideas and themes that I became aware of.

One of the themes I wanted to intentionally revisit during Lent was leadership, specifically the challenge of sensing a call to, and gifting for, leadership but not having a recognised role in which to exercise it. I've found James Lawrence's Growing Leaders a really useful tool, and it's been great to reflect on the chosen / call / character / competence / context framework for leadership that's at the heart of Arrow and Growing Leaders leadership training.

But the implications of revisiting leadership didn't really hit me 'til after Easter, when I was thinking about the future and reflecting on my current paid work. I felt really challenged by the fact that I'd become really passive about my leadership, almost hiding behind a lack of defined leadership role as a reason not to exercise leadership. A couple of great conversations with a colleague convinced me that I needed to stop belly-aching about the lack of leadership at work and recognise that actually it was my responsibility to step into the gap and start leading.

So I have. Conversations about organisational drift and lack of vision have been replaced by commitments to change. Action has been taken. Decisions have been made. But the really great thing is that it's been a team effort (and I use the word 'team' advisedly in the light of reflections on Growing Leaders). It's been a real reminder to me of the fact that I have a responsibility to use my gifts, in the same way that others have a responsibility to use theirs - if I abdicate that responsibility then I can't complain if others do the same.

But the theme that's stood out more than any other over the six weeks of Lent is collaboration. I think it's surprised me for a number of reasons but mainly because I realised that I'd confused collaboration with extroversion and had fallen into the trap of thinking that because I'm an introvert I therefore do things most effectively on my own. This, I now realise, is nonsense. Yes, there are times when I need to step away to reflect and assess, but I also really need opportunities to think out loud with others, to share ideas, to be part of something bigger than just me. But making that happen can be a challenge for an introvert, particularly a single introvert. Just saying.

So that links to another theme - courage. I'm not alone in being the kind of person who, when life gets a bit challenging, tends to retreat into the safe and familiar. There are times when that's entirely appropriate, but there are also times when that can be the start of a spiral downwards into unhealthy introspection and, at worst, a touch of depression. The irony, of course, is that the point at which I feel most like retreating is precisely the point at which I need to reach out to other people, to be vulnerable, to ask for the support and help that I need. My experience is that when I do that, I always end up better off. But it takes courage and that's something I lack.

The flip side is that I've also rediscovered the importance of doing stuff by myself when the option is that or not doing it all. In the last couple of months I've been to the cinema by myself three times (which I think is twice more than I've done it in the whole of the rest of my life!). Why not? It was that or missing out on stuff I really wanted to see.

And in the process I've begun to rediscover theatre and cinema as something that genuinely energises me. In fact, my new default thinking place is the café at the Curve Theatre in Leicester. That's largely because it's nice and close to work and therefore a good place to head on my short days and it's generally almost entirely empty. But it's also because it's a creative place. The bit of me that's still the eighteen-year-old who chose her university on the basis that walking round on the interview day felt  like being in Fame likes being in a place where you can overhear slightly pretentious conversations about getting into drama school, or indignation at one-star reviews in the local paper, whilst smiling to herself and maintaining she's above all that. But it's helped me remember that that's where I've come from, that the arts, and performing arts in particular, have played a massive part in shaping who I am.

So it's been an interesting few months. Now I'm trying to figure out what to read, reflect on and work towards for the next few...

PS The beady-eyed of you will notice that there's no mention here of the reflections on Shakespeare and John that were initially the focus of my Lent study. That stuff hasn't disappeared, but its significance has changed and it didn't seem appropriate to focus on it in this post. Maybe another day...

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.

Leadership according to Newsnight

Two or three weeks ago, I watched part of an edition of BBC Newsnight which had originally been broadcast in May 2012 as part of the build-up to HMQ's Diamond Jubilee weekend celebrations. It featured an exploration of leadership as depicted through the works of Shakespeare. A ten minute video of Newsnight reporter Stephen Smith visiting various of the Bard's haunts and interviewing a motely crew of talking heads, interspersed with clips from the BBC's Cultural Olympiad production of The Hollow Crown and Laurence Olivier's Henry V was followed by Jeremy Paxman in conversation with historian Simon Schama, Shakespeare's Globe legend Mark Rylance, and star of the aforementioned Hollow Crown, Tom Hiddleston (who may or may not have been the reason I was watching the video in the first place. But I digress...). It was an interesting, if unspectacular, twenty minutes.

Then I sent the following messages to my sisters (who had also watched and enjoyed said video sometime before):

I remembered that I'd forgotten to watch Rylance and Hiddleston on Newsnight.  

Have just watched it. I enjoyed it.  

I also just about managed to overlook the fact that EVERY SINGLE contributor was a white man.  

No subconscious messages about leadership there at all. 

Particularly when you consider that a) the three part series [BBC Newsnight also broadcast features exploring the relevance of Dickens for modern Britain and James Bond as the embodiment of British-ness] was looking at authors writing under our three great queens and b) Hiddleston's Henry V [the fourth part of The Hollow Crown] was directed by a woman (but they chose to interview Richard Eyre [who had directed Henry IV in the same series]).

The complete absence of female and non-white contributors preoccupied me for several days after I watched the video. I decided I needed to blog about my observation so I started to write but I quickly realised I had too much to say. So I decided to write a little blog series but I realised I still had too much to say.

So a week or so later I went for a walk and a think.

Long story short I've decided to create myself a little Lent project. You may remember that last year I decided to take things up for Lent; this year I've decided that over the course of six weeks I'll have a go at investing some proper time and energy into exploring some of the issues that Newsnight has raised for me. I realise it's not a particularly spiritual thing to do (although I'm pondering the possibility of a Henry V- related theological reflection...) but it feels like a productive way to spend some time!

So my plan - as it stands - is this. I'll write a couple of posts at the beginning of Lent outlining some of my initial thoughts, then I'll spend five weeks reading and thinking and writing and talking and watching and then I'll endeavour to write a handful more posts unpacking where that reading and thinking and writing and talking and watching has taken me.

Or I'll get bored and give up after a fortnight.

If you'd like to read / think / write / talk / watch along with me, that would be ace!

Taking things up for Lent

I don't do giving stuff up for Lent.

Let me be clear - this is not a well-thought through theological statement or a criticism of those who do. It's simply the result of an inability to plan. Lent happens every year and yet somehow it always ends up catching me out. This year is no exception - Shrove Tuesday passed without comment (and, indeed, without pancakes) and it's now Thursday and life has continued as normal.

Until this afternoon.

This afternoon I had a moment of clarity. Instead of giving something up, I'm going to start doing something. Well, I'm going to try. I'm going to have a crack at something that challenges the very core of who I am.

I'm going to be spontaneous.

When I think of something I'd like to do, I'm going to do it. I'm not going to spend hours considering the pros and cons, the time it might take. I am - within reason - just going to do it.

Ah, I hear you (silently) cry - the 'within reason' caveat! The ultimate get-out clause.

So, clarification. 'Within reason' (in this context) means that I won't do anything a) illegal (not least because I would argue that that goes against the basic premise of Lent...), b) I won't bankrupt myself and c) I will honour all my existing commitments - turning up for work when I'm supposed to, for example. But apart from that, the world is my spontaneous Lenten oyster.

Now, I realise that for many, the idea of being spontaneous is a no-brainer, but I'm a reflector. That means I think about everything. A lot. I suffer from an acute form of analysis paralysis which means that I have a habit of think about things so much that I often don't end up taking action. There are benefits to reflection which is why I'm not giving up reflection for Lent - that would be stupid. But there are genuine downsides and it seems daft to miss the opportunity to discipline myself to live outside my comfort zone a little for the next six weeks.

Will I manage? Who knows. Will I give it my best shot? I'll try...