Prodigal Kiwi(s) Blog

Christian de Chergé: A Theology of Hope.

One of my favourite movies of the decade 2000 to 2010 was the French film Of God’s and Men. It was a profound and deeply movie film, the story of the Cistercian Monks of Notre-Dame de l’Atlas monastery in the Atlas Mountains near Tibhirine south west of Algiers in northern Algeria. 

Christian de Chergé, a Catholic Priest, was the Abbot of the Monastery and is the focus of a recently published book Christian de Chergé: A Theology of Hope. 

Englewood Review of Books recently published a review of the book, and I must say it sounds fascinating. Here are a couple of excerpts:

“…From his earliest days in Algeria, interfaith concerns captured de Chergé’s heart and mind. In 1961, for example, local militants murdered de Chergé’s friend, Mohammed, for physically protecting de Chergé. This Christ-like act by a Muslim “elder brother” simultaneously raised questions for de Chergé about Islam’s place in God’s plan, and clarified his vocation. “Dialogue with Islam,” Salenson notes, “would be part and parcel of de Chergé’s monastic vocation, a vocation he received through Mohammed” (27). Later, a Muslim guest to the monastery entered in the darkened church after Compline, humbly requesting de Chergé to pray for him. De Chergé responded with his own invitation: “Teach us to pray together.” From that point forward, de Chergé’s purpose in Muslim Algeria was “to be someone ‘praying among others who pray’” (30), which came to mean an “incarnated communion of saints”—Muslims and Christians—“learning to pray together” (189). Abandoning his presumptions about Islam’s place in God’s plan and re-envisioning dialogue as something other than “narrow-minded jousting,” he launched the Ribat es Salam (Bond of Peace). In other words, instead of competing against Islam, de Chergé grew to appreciate a single faith—this communion of saints—under one merciful God, even to the point that he understood Mohammed as “a prophet authentically inspired by the Spirit of the One and Living God” (45). Utilizing a classic monastic image, de Chergé pictured a ladder “composed of the two religious traditions, Islam and Christianity” (129), where “both parties, by climbing similar rungs, allow themselves to be converted toward the One God” (63). 

The intrepid de Chergé pursued the consequences of such beliefs. He warned Christians, for example, against presuming to have the person and work of Christ figured out, i.e., as if all that Christians needed to know about Christ could be known exclusively from Christian texts and traditions. Christians will know Christ better, de Chergé insisted, to the extent that they hear Muslims teach Christ from the Quran and Islamic traditions.  “In order to enter in truth into dialogue,” de Chergé counseled, “we will have to accept, in the name of Christ, that Islam has something to tell us on behalf of Christ” (93). Stated differently, Christians must pursue interfaith dialogue because none has a monopoly on the truth, and because such an encounter may provide an “Emmaus Road experience” where Muslims are Christ to, and for, Christians. “True dialogue then becomes the requirement for each participant” …”

 You’ll find the full review here. Use the site’s “search feature” and type in “Christian de Chergé”. My sense is that the riches of this book go beyond interfaith dialogue and will help us understand how to be in conversation, in relationship with the other who is not like us. 

You’ll find de Chergé’s last “letter” here. It’s an incredibly grace-filled and moving letter – the heart of the Jesus-following way beautifully expressed. The text was opened on the feast of Pentecost, 26 May, shortly after the monks were killed.

Forgiveness

As I talk to people, one of the many “cages” they often find themselves “trapped” in is that of unforgiveness. For some it’s their own unwillingness to forgive, while for others it is their not being forgiven, not being given the love, space and opportunity to grow and change – they’re forever trapped in the past. 

While not the whole picture, Marianne Williamson is nonetheless helpful when she writes: 

“… Forgiveness is the choice to see people as they are now. When we are angry at people, we are angry because of something they said or did before this moment. But what people said or did is not who they are. Relationships are reborn as we let go perceptions of [that person’s]. ‘By bringing the past into the present, we create a future just like the past’ [; people who can only ever be what they were in the past]. By letting the past go, we make room for miracles…” 

- Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course of Miracles, p. 96. 

The Death of Walter Wink

Good friend Steve Taylor, via his blog, just alerted me to the fact that theologian Walter Wink died. Like Steve, I’m grateful to Wink, not least for his “Powers” trilogy (which I’d love to see published as a single hardcover edition), but also for the other books he wrote around the subject, and on the subject of theological education. Like Steve too, my early return to Christian faith was in a Charismatic Anglican context and Wink opened my eyes to rigorous theological  / biblical reflection on themes which in typical charismatic fashion were poorly understood and thus practically embodied in ways that were decidedly Christianity-lite. 

Walter Wink died on May 10 at age 76 in his Massachusetts home after a long struggle with a form of dementia that is closely associated with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. 

Obituary here. Another here. 

More importantly Wink prepared me for William Stringfellow, and that, theologically speaking, was life-changing. Wink didn’t introduce me to Stringfellow, Charles Campbell did that, but as noted above, Wink provided the biblical / theological underpinning. I also discovered Wink had a significant respect for Stringfellow as well, contributing, for example, an essay Stringfellow on the Powers in the Andrew W. McThenia collection of essays Radical Christian and Exemplary Lawyer.

Resisting the Familiar Discourse on Crime and Punishment

In resistance to the familiar discourse on crime and punishment Anglican Action in Hamilton are facilitating an art installation and a forum featuring Dr. Chris Marshall & and Kim Workman QSO. It’s a reflection on our punitive attitudes, trial by media and an exploration of restorative philosophy, theology and processes. 

6^th June 2012

6:30pm @ Just Food Café, Anglican Action, Te Ara Hou Village, 100 Morrinsville Road, Hamilton, NZ. 

Flyer (PDF) attached below:

Download No Son of Ours - Flyer

It should be a really stimulating evening, so if you’re local and have an interest in the crime and punishment conversation, come along. I’m always grateful for any opportunity to hear Chris Marshall. I haven’t heard Kim before.

Against Innocence: The Gift of Peacemaking and Reconciliation

On the enneagram “nines” are often named as “peacemakers”. I’m not a “9”, but over recent times have more and more found myself in the peacemaker / reconciler role. I want to hold difference together. To encourage people to remain in conversation, to finds ways forward together, and to harness and focus the gifts of difference. I had to do it last week at work. 

In his foreword to Against Innocence: Gillian Rose’s Reception and the Gift of Faith (authored by Andrew Shanks) Giles Fraser writes:

“…The mediator pursues a theology that refuses that a disagreement can ever reach a point where there is no benefit to be gained from further conversation. Put a different way, it is a refusal to accept that two seemingly irreconcilable positions are indeed irreconcilable…” 

Quoting Rowan Williams, “…Reflection requires that the plain opposition of positive and negative be left behind. Thinking is not content with the abstraction of mutual exclusivities, but struggles to conceive of a structured wholeness nuanced enough to contain what appeared to be contradictories.” 

“…The sort of peace negotiation suggested by [Gillian] Rose and [Andrew] Shanks has a definite strategy: It attempts to dismantle our desire for innocence. For what is recognized by the true mediator is that innocence - of the ‘longing to be utterly sure of our rightness’, as [Rowan] Williams puts it – is exactly the motivation that leads people to reject compromise and continue with [conflict]…” On the contrary, Shanks writes, the aim of the mediator is to resist “the stubborn desire for the sort of moral purity that refuses negotiation” and a willingness to finds ways of compromise, ways forward together. Peace and truth do not stand in opposition to one another (cf. South Africa’s profoundly courageous commitment to the outworking of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission)

But, as you will have noticed, the first step is to dismantle any sense that we are entirely innocent. None of us are! We’re all compromised. We all have egos. We all have a deeply entrenched commitment to living out of our false selves. We all only ever see in part, and often on see what we want or need to see. The work of mediation and reconciliation requires great courage. Firstly, the courage to face into ones own interior realities (motives, false desires, sin, woundedness and brokenness, our shadows etc). Secondly, to have the courage to remain open, open to deep listening, seeing from the perspective of the other, being fully present, vulnerable and humble, and feeling with the ‘other’ (i.e. being genuinely empathetic). And, finally, it is to have the courage to trust, to be willing to enter uncharted territory, and to see in the other the presence of gift and invitation, the invitation to me to become more than I am, i.e. the courage to accept the invitation to continuing change and growth. 

I am not a “9” but I am deeply committed to the work of mediation and reconciliation; to finding healthy and hopeful ways forward, even though those things mean I often have to place myself in very vulnerable places, aware that I am not ever wholly innocent, or without shared responsibility for what is broken, for particular outcomes etc. 

Work for peace and reconciliation requires ceaseless effort, a profound willingness to sit with ones own pain, great moral courage, humility, and a vision of what might be possible. In this sense it is deeply eschatological work. It is the work of the gospel. It is the Jesus-following way. 

Giles Fraser writes, “Rose’s work is an encouragement to pay attention to the philosophical condition of human fallenness. Human beings are haunted by complexity, compromised by mixed motives, and debased by threads of complicity and cruelty and untruthfulness. We continually seek to represent ourselves with various fictions of our own innocence… This isn’t so much a counsel of despair; rather, it’s a fearlessly honest description of what it takes to love our neighbor…”          

Rowan Williams: Not Victory, But Instead, Understanding and Depth

A few lines/themes from recent addresses (this one, for example) by Rowan Williams have remained with me, having application not just to interfaith religious dialogue, but all to relationships, and to ‘non-religious’ conversations with we are in as we go about our everyday and very ordinary activities: 

“The Archbishop of Canterbury and Sri Shruti Dharma Das Ji launched the Hindu Christian Forum at Lambeth Palace, at an event which featured addresses from Andrew Stunell MP, Baroness Richardson and Lord Popat. 

In his address, the Archbishop said "The conversation of interfaith dialogue is always one where we look eagerly and expectantly for enrichment. We're not playing for victory, we're seeking understanding from one another... by learning the depth of one another's commitment and vision - dialogue and depth is what we all hope for." 

And from another recent address on an interfaith theme: 

"To belong is to know that there is somewhere where you don't have to earn your position – it's guaranteed; you are at home and you don't have to work in order to be there. That level of belonging is one of the crucial things which our religious identity gives to us." 

A useful question I’ve used and adapted in various ways for specific contexts is: “What are you willing to be wrong about in relation to the other; one or two things that open up possibilities for new ways of relating and of new understanding and perspective?”

All Marriages Can Be Saved! Really?

As a supplement to yesterday’s post, here’s two podcasts: the first is a Radio New Zealand interview with Helen LaKelly Hunt, while the second is a Sounds True interview with Harville Hendrix, her husband. 

The co-founded the Institute for Imago Relationship Therapy have written a couple of books together, including the excellent How to Get the Love You Want: a Guidebook for Couples. Pastorally I’d make this book a compulsory part of pre-marriage work, and would also encourage that an Imago Relationship workshop / weekend be completed by couples journeying toward engagement and/or marriage.  Sounds True also has a very useful CD-audio series available: Finding and Keeping Love. 

Hunt’s interview is for all intentioned purposes in two parts with respect to content; the first part focuses on her philanthropic work with women, while the second part which begins at 25min 04 secs in focuses on their relationship therapy work. In it she makes the bold assertion that “every marriage is repairable!” Full-stop! No qualifiers. If you read yesterday’s post, and especially the articles appended at the bottom of it, you may not in fact be surprised that she could say that. I think the practices of “conscious partnerships” are applicable to every kind of relationship. 

She closes out the interview with the notion that we use the pain in our relationships as a “breakthrough moment” by means of which we get to the glory; the treasure, as it were, at the heart of every relationship. 

The second interview can be found here, and it’s with Hendrix. Again, a fascinating interview and well worth a listen. His lament is that because the change required at an individual / couple level is such hard (but ultimately so rewarding) work that it is easier and takes less character and courage to “…divorce, breakup the family, and divide up all their possessions…” It’s easier than taking the risk and acquiring a new and deeply satisfying way of relating. Deep, deep regret and sadness will continue to be endemic if we don’t learn new ways of relating (for more on this, see yesterday’s post). Everything in our consumerist, disposable culture works against and erodes marriage and the deep healing and humanity that a “conscious partnership” makes possible. Again, if it’s not working for me, then the easy option is to discard the relationship and pursue a new one, or more likely new ones (plural), taking with us our projections, disowned, lost and false selves, habitual and unconscious practices, disappointment, hurt, and pain with us. It’s easier to discard and distract than face into our own interior work for healing, change, growth, and maybe even restoration of the relationships that really are important on so many levels.  

Ten Characteristics of a Conscious Relationship

Following on from yesterday’s post, let’s start with a definition of “conscious partnership” (as distinct from the typically more common unconscious partnership. Harville Hendrix, founder of imago relationships notes, “…a conscious partnership is a relationship that fosters maximum psychological and spiritual growth; it’s a relationship created by becoming conscious and cooperating with the fundamental drives of the unconscious mind – to be safe, to be healed, and to be whole…” 

And now for the characteristics of a conscious partnership: 

“…You realise that your love relationship has a hidden purpose – the healing of childhood wounds. Instead of focusing entirely on surface needs and desires, you learn to recognise the unresolved childhood issues that underlie them. 

You create a more accurate image of your partner. At the very moment of attraction, you begin fusing your lover with your primary caretakers. Later you project your negative traits onto your partner, further obscuring your partner’s essential reality. As you move toward a conscious relationship, you gradually let go these illusions and begin to see more of your partner’s truth. You see your partner not as your saviour but as another wounded human being, struggling to be healed. 

You take responsibility for communicating your needs and desires to your partner. In an unconscious partnership, you cling to the childhood that your partner automatically intuits your needs. In conscious partnership, you accept the fact that, in order to understand each other, you have to develop clear channels of communication. 

You become more intentional in your interactions. In an unconscious partnership, you tend to react without thinking. You allow the primitive response of your old brain to control your behaviour. In a conscious partnership, you train yourself to behave in a more constructive manner. 

You learn to value your partners needs and wishes as highly as you value your own. In an unconscious partnership, you assume your partner’s role in life is to take care of your needs magically. In a conscious partnership, you let go of this narcissistic view and divert more and more of your energy to meeting your partners needs. 

You embrace the dark side of your personality. In a conscious partnership, you openly acknowledge the fact that you, like everyone else, have negative traits. As you accept responsibility for this dark side of your nature, you lessen your tendency to project your negative traits onto your mate, which creates a less hostile environment. 

You learn new techniques to satisfy your basic needs and desires. During the [inevitable] power struggle[s], you cajole, harangue, and blame in an attempt to coerce your partner to meet your needs. When you move beyond this stage, you realise your partner can indeed be a resource for you – once you abandon your self-defeating tactics. 

You search within yourself for the strengths and abilities you are lacking. One reason you were attracted to your partner is that she or he had strengths and abilities that you lacked. Therefore, being with your partner gave you an illusory sense of wholeness. In a conscious partnership, you learn that the only way you can truly recapture a sense of oneness is to develop the hidden traits within yourself. 

You become more aware of your drive to be loving and whole… As a part of your God-given nature, you have the ability to love unconditionally… social conditioning and imperfect parenting made you lose touch with these qualities. In a conscious partnership, you begin to rediscover your original nature. 

You accept the difficulty of creating a lasting love relationship. In an unconscious partnership, you believe that the way to have a good relationship is to pick the right partner. In a conscious partnership you realise you have to be the right partner. As you gain a more realistic view, you realise that a good partnership requires commitment, discipline, and courage to grow and change; creating a fulfilling love relationship is hard work…” 

“…We are slow to comprehend that, in order to be loved, we must first become lovers…” 

Which of course assumes that we know what love is, that we know what it is to be a person who is able to love. I think too that it assumes a willingness live beneath the surface of life, to journey into depth. And, also, in transitioning from unconsciousness to consciousness and intentionality one must be both willing and able to change, because change in this context is something we inherently resist. It’s difficult and hard work (albeit, deeply rewarding). 

We’re comfortable (ironically, in our “uncomfortableness”). We have well-established patterns of behaviour and ways of acting. All too often we ‘sleep’ our way through life and relationships. We’re more interested in the moment (the small picture) in self-gratification, and in meeting superficial needs or needs that should be secondary.

And, finally, Hendrix would reflect that the change or transition must begin with each of us individually. We can’t change another person, and clearly where there’s an unwillingness in a partnership by one of the partners to move from unconsciousness to unconsciousness, to take responsibility for embodying and enacting the characteristics of a conscious way of being both open to the realities of the person they are themselves, but also to the partnership, then there is no possibility of a conscious partnership.

Many of the “ten steps” (see below) don’t come naturally. We need, through much practice to rewire our brains, and thus our habits and ways of being in partnership. 

All quotes and the ten characteristics are by Harville Hendrix PhD. Hendrix was in New Zealand earlier this year. The NZ Herald featured his and his wife’s visit in an article that featured his Ten Steps to Happiness. The Sunday Star Times featured an article on marriage a path to wholeness (both are well worth reading and reflecting on).

Virtues to the Rescue? Mark Vernon, Rowan Williams and Richard Chartres

Today, another interview from the ABC radio show The Spirit of Things. In this one the interviewee is former Church of England Priest Mark Vernon (recently featured on this blog through a series of introductory reflections on Carl Jung – you’ll find them here). In the show you’ll also hear clips from Bishop of London Richard Chartres, and Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams. The show was titled: Virtues to the Rescue. The blurb for the show was:

“The London riots prompted soul-searching and rescue remedies from politicians and priests. But for Mark Vernon who lives in South London where some of the rioting happened it is the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, who has the answer. Virtues education is the perfect balance between duty-bound morality and the pursuit of happiness. Vernon, who calls himself a Christian agnostic, was an Anglican priest but now teaches others how to live The Good Life, the subject of his latest book.” 

Here’s an excerpt from the radio interview: 

“…Rachael Kohn: …Rowan Williams also wrote for the Citizen Ethics publication and there he also stresses the virtues, but he also stresses the need for humility and the need to live in a way that honours life of the planet, of those around. It's very much a vision of a care of others that does often grow out of a religious outlook, as you say, and that imposes restraint and self-discipline.

Even if it isn't overtly religious, I wonder whether the goodness that Rowan Williams describes is not very fashionable today, or even believable by a lot of people, is it? I mean, the whole notion of being good, doesn't that make people suddenly look for the quickest exit?

Mark Vernon: It is the case that humility is a hard gospel to preach, because you immediately leave yourself hostage to being accused of not being very humble in your preaching. But I think that it's very intimately connected to at least a certain sort of religious tradition, which is actually prepared to say there are some things which we don't understand, there are some things which are genuinely tragic—which I think is to say that good people do end up doing bad things, with the best will in the world. I think that that's very much part of Christianity. 

But what Christianity of course always has is faith, which might be defined as almost entirely unwarranted hope that things will get better and that you can trust in the divine at the end of the day and not have to trust in the inevitably flawed actions of human beings…” 

You’ll find the full interview (downloadable) here. 

 

On the Road with John Howard Yoder

Paul writes - The latest issue of On The Road, the journal of the Anabaptist Association of Australia and New Zealand is out, and this time it features a number of articles on John Howard Yoder. You can find a PDF (4.9MB) of Issue 47, December 2010 here. 

Feature Articles:

• 12 Ways to Prematurely Write Off Yoder: Some Common Misconceptions About Yoder’s ‘Neo-Anabaptist’ Vision by Michael Buttrey.
• Yoder on Jesus’ Death by Geoff Broughton.
• Yoder the Sinner by Nathan Hobby.
• Tracking the Influence of John Yoder: A Bibliographical Survey by Doug Hynd.  This will be particularly useful to those who haven’t read a lot of Yoder, but want some key texts by which to do that.    

The introduction by Nathan Hobby also provides a good overview or introduction to Yoder and the key thoughts of his theological approach. And thus to an understanding of what might be key features of, or underlying motivations for Christian discipleship. 

“…His Anabaptism was not that of a withdrawn Mennonite with nothing to say to the world, but an Anabaptism which was light to the world, even and especially in the peculiarity of its life and worship…” Nathan Hobby.