I stumbled across a lovely bit of Sirach while preparing the carol service which was used in the opening prayer, and which I forgot to print in the bookie.
Why had I never noticed this passage before?
And now bless the God of all,
who everywhere works great wonders,
who fosters our growth from birth,
and deals with us according to his mercy.Sirach, 50.22
So, do we suppose I am enjoying my bedtime reading, or just enjoying the thought of enjoying it? Sadly, it’s acted more like espresso than chamomile.
The idol does not indicate, any more than the icon, a particular being or even class of beings. Icon and Idol indicate a manner of being for beings, or at least for some of them. Indeed, a determination that would limit itself to opposing the ‘true God’ (icon) to the ‘false god’ (idol) in extending the polemic of the vetero-testamentary prophets, would not be suitable here. For the Christian iconoclasts of the eighth century gave the name ‘idol’ to that which had been conceived and venerated as icon of the true God, and the Jews of the Old Covenant rejected all representation as idolatrous, even representation of the God of the Covenant. (the ‘Golden Calf’, it has been argued, perhaps only personalized the God of the Covenant, and the very Temple of Jerusalem could have been deserted by the divine Shekinah only insofar as it foundered in idolatry.) … In short, the icon and the idol are not at all determined as beings against other beings, since the same beings (statues, names, etc.) can pass from one rank to the other. The icon and the idol determine two manners of being for beings, not two classes of beings.
Jean-Luc Marion, God Without Being
transl. Thomas A. Carlson
You must admit, that bit about the Skekinah is pretty clever.
So, for a day, the world let itself hope.
Some of the world that is. All who have bought into the reassertion of the American Dream, or the symbolic power of a black president (though no one complains that in the States, one black parent and one white parent still means ‘black’), or the relief that perhaps the disastrous political regime of the past eight years is ending.
There has been a lot of thoughtful commentary, and I wish neither to summarize it nor to remark on it, save for one thing. Yesterday, I found myself listening to a call in show on Five-Live: ‘did America make the right choice’. One man, in explaining his ‘yes’ said that as of today there were no more excuses: no black child, no black teenager could ever again claim that they were stopped by the colour of their skin.
That is a good thing.
But if it is true, that means that right now, there are a whole lot of people who might be both angry and afraid that their excuses are gone; people who for years have told themselves: ‘I can’t; no one will let me’ and now they have to face that that might not be true.
Please understand: the circumstances mean we are imagining a certain group of disaffected people who happen to be black. But the reality is greater. Lots of us find excuses for not trying, not hoping, not choosing our path in life.
Yesterday, we opened the door on hope. Like the person who has just discovered a relationship with God, we let ourselves imagine new possibilities for the future: a vision of life not determined by the past. It is a wonderful feeling, but hard to sustain. Once the euphoria wears off we are left in a void. On one side are the old-ways that we may want to let go of, but are familiar and instinctual. On the other side, there’s a glimmer of something we can’t grasp and a path that turns quickly out of sight.
The way of hope is surrounded by a thousand sirens calling out reasons for our failure: a thousand excuses we can give ourselves as we feel the lure of old-habits that get us nowhere, but offer the comfort of familiarity.
Hope keeps disturbing us with the question: what will you choose today?
Gracious, unexpected moments…
Yesterday, the lay team (preachers) met for a usual training session. This was the last of a set of meetings on Christology. I always enjoy lay training. It’s an enthusiastic and diverse group, and it’s good for me to watch their excitement as they catch new glimpses of God. And of course it does me no harm to revisit the basic building blocks of theology, biblical studies, preaching and the like. Our meetings are usually stimulating and often fun, but yesterday — well, yesterday was holy.
As in ‘take off your shoes’.
Insightful, deep sharing that left my arms tingling.
It began with an assignment: delve into a theory of atonement (following up on earlier reading) or respond to the phrase ‘God is Christ-like’. Options abounded: ‘essay’; focused conversation; artistic response, other form of written response. I had supposed the result would be one essay, one poem, one collage, and one conversation. And instead, we got:
I know the member of the group who was ill also wrote a poem. And I am fascinated by this. What is it about Christology — about a real exploration of what salvation means, and how Christ shapes our understanding of God that led each of them into symbolic forms of expression?
It shouldn’t surprise me. It’s what we do, after all. But it was lovely to see, and deeply moving to be a part of.
One member of the group has posted the poem on her blog. Another poem is beneath the fold. The dialogue, we agreed, really needs to be heard aloud. Fun sermon forthcoming, when the time is right.
wonderful exchange 