Via a suggestion through reading Bp. Rob Angus Jones, newest book, I’ve bought a copy of Abba Seraphim’s Flesh of Our Brethren. It is published on LuLu, which some of you know, I’m a huge fan of for producing much needed quality Indie research and resources. You can visit our own little kiosk by clicking here.

I’m only a third of the way through Flesh of Our Brethren, and so far I cannot reccomend it enough. Don’t let the typesetting put you off – Abba Seraphim has clearly done the research, and his presentation is both clear, readable, and well documented.

Flesh of Our Brethren focusses on the histories of three principal figures in our history, St. Mar Alvarez, Abp. Vilatte, and Bp. Ferrette, and their connections to the Syrian Church.

If you have already read Flesh of Our Brethren, and would like to share your own impressions, please do so in the comments below. Once I’ve finished it I might post a “proper” book review here.

Last night I handed my PhD thesis over to my supervisor. In theory this means I have crossed the threshold from darkness into light – I am now exiting the cave. What comes next? I’m not sure, I know at some point in the not too distant future there is somethign called “the submission” followed by something else called “the defence” but I long ago gave up trying to get a clear plan, a succinct vision of how this thing works from my University.

This morning for the first time in quite a few weeks, I did my morning trawl, not thinking about the thesis, not dreading that stack of paper 7cm thick sitting next to me shrieking for attention. This morning I could (and have) rest, and think about other things, other possibilities.

A few weeks ago I ordered Rob Angus Jones’ book Independent Sacramental Bishops: Ordination, Authority, Lineage and Validity I’ve been looking forward to sitting down and reading this. My scan through suggests that it is well done, and thoughtful.

I have a stack of other books that have sat there, patiently quietly waiting to be loved, and read. Its all theology (of course) but more importantly it is NOT a thesis.

I have half baked, partially chewed morsels of various research and writing projects (most of an indie nature) sitting quietly in the background of my hard-drive – now, perhaps some of these can be dusted off, and re-visited.

It is amazing how something that you envisioned working one way, and that worked in a completely different way, can be so disruptive, destructive even. But I’m standing before that fine line that shift in colour that is the border between the cave, and the filtered light of the green forest. I can hear birds, and a brook, and I can even see flowers. They are also NOT the thesis.

So this morning for the first time in weeks I could sit down and do my morning trawl. Ever since the origin of this blog I spend a little time each day looking through religious news feeds and other sites of interest to see if anything inspires a post from an OC/IC point of view.

I have often asked what exactly is that point of view – what is our point of reference. And today is not different. Visiting a couple of my favourite sites on simple/eco/creative living I’ve noticed perhaps for the first time that many of them have “manifestos” that is a small set of ideas that serve as a launch pad for action, what we in the “pray-trade” would call praxis.

The Anglicans have a manifesto – the 39 articles – the Lutherans too. In the 19th century the Old Catholic movement had a manifesto as well. But here we are the proverbial ugly step-sister of the Old Catholic movement, and over 100 years later, perhaps it is time to evaluate our ethos, our reason for being, and deliberately, thoughtfully consider a renewed manifesto.

My question then is – what points of reference, what diving boards of praxis would you include in your “Indie Manifesto” and why? I can think of a few but would rather not influence the outcome so am asking you to speak up first (grin).

Now here’s an interesting question, and it struck me while doing the morning trawl, one thing led to another led to another and before I knew it I found myself in the website of a convent scanning their FAQ page. What struck me about it was their answer:

“This is one of the hardest of all questions to answer because the person asking it usually has her own ideas about what “traditional” means. . . .”

This really opens a door into talking about what it means to be “traditional” because you have to start by asking the background question – what do YOU mean by “traditional”? In my experience in the indie community it generally falls into two categories (which sometimes but not always overlap).

Category A is ritual. I say ritual and not liturgy because ritual encompasses more than “just” liturgy. Frequently people define “traditional” or traditionalist, or traditionalism by the forms of ritual used in the life of the community. “Traditional” communities often seek to use “old” rituals, and to execute them with a level of precision that would make a drill seargent weep for joy. “Traditional” communities often like “the old language” – and use it liberally throughout their ritual year.

Category B is doctrine. “Traditional” communities in category B emphsise a set of doctrines that they hold to be the “traditional” teaching of “The Church”. Often this body of dictates is a set collection frozen in time, reflecting the real or imagined golden age of “The Church”.

The difficulty with these two (often overlapping) sets is that they are wholly unsuited to the OC/IC ethos. Which brings us back to the question: What is traditional (in our context)?

This essay by Theo Hobson was in my morning trawl (thank you nod to Maggie Dawn – who has been picking the really interesting stuff of late). Hobson visits a Anglican . . . non-worship, worship service in West London and shares the experience.

Throughout his description of the art instalations, the impromptu feel, the artsy free form nature of it all, while talking about how some people are not comfortable with “organised” religion – that is the structured liturgical forms, and familiar settings of churches – I could not help but reflect on how it all began.

Take a eucharistic prayer for example – now it is the norm that (in western liturgical churches) the priest reads one from a fixed set of options. The choice may vary depending on the season, local custom, or personal preference but the words are the same every time – the prayer has become homogenised. Believe it or not this was not always so. Indeed this one prayer (as an example) was for at least three hundred years a free form on the spot prayer by the bishop (the normal celebrant for the period).

There is something – safe, possibly even comfortable, about the “norm” a standard format, a memorable set of words, an expected environment. However, there is something to be said for the edgy, the awkward, the un-expected because our experience of, and growth in our faith, and our OC/IC identity is punctuated with the unexpected, the awkward, those moments that interrupt the flow and make us pay attention.

Finally – it is, as I have often observed here – too often the case that we indie folk spend too much effort and energy trying to look like “the norm” – rather than being true to our quirky, edgy, experimental selves.

If you’ve not already noticed I’ve been editing my thinking on the “spiritual but not religious” idea as I go along. Looking at the conversation developing here, as well as thinking about various tangents (thus my first post on it here).

Thanks to Sam Urfer I’m quoting from the Onion:

“Father Clancy Donahue of St. Michael Catholic Church told reporters Wednesday that while he believed in blindly adhering to the dogma and ceremonies of his faith, he tried not to get too bogged down by actual spirituality. “I’m not so much into having a relationship with God as I am into mechanically conducting various rituals,” Donahue said. “To me, it just feels empty to contemplate a higher power without blindly obeying canon law and protecting the church as an institution.” Donahue emphasized that although he did not personally agree with those who pondered the eternal, he had nothing against them.”

Funny as this is it hits the mark when it comes to thinking about a definition of “religious” and “spiritual”. Is being religious merly thoughtless ritualism? Is being spiritual all about the ethereal, the intangible elements of relating?

Working on my PhD thesis I had to come up with a sensible “working definition” for “cult” and “devotion” and was surprised at how difficult it was largely because there is so much overlap between them that a cut and dried, black and white definition becomes rather awkward. If the same can be said of “spiritual” and “religious” does the description “spiritual but not religious” have any concrete meaning?

Surely there is a Venn Diagram for this somewhere (grin).

Thinking about this possible overlap reminds me of a study published last year about the nature of people’s belief and participation in Christian faith communities. I’m afraid I cannot remember who did the study – I think it was Pew. One of the interesting features of contemporary Christian belief is that most people believe that Christianity is not the only way to God, and that many people draw on the practices and ideas of other non-Christian faith traditions. Based on the tongue in cheek definition kindly provided by the Onion; does this mean that a significant portion of the body of Christian faithful are more “spiritual” than they are “religious”?

Finally, following the same “working” definition. I wonder should I switch from describing myself as “faithful” to “spiritual AND religious”? I value the intangible sense of intimacy with the Divine, and I participate in, indeed perform the rituals of the cult of Christ.

This little “sapling” of a conversation deserves more than its getting.

Looking at not only my own initial response on Twitter, as well as the response of others (see previous post) I’m realising that these two words are very “loaded”. Huw, rightly observes that the underlying question remains unanswered – what is our working definition of “spiritual”? What is our working definition of “religious”?

But here’s the caveat to those questions – can we define them without reference to the ongoing liberal vs. conservative war within and among faith communities? If we do succeed what affect does this have on the self description “spiritual but not religious”? Honestly, I’m not sure I have a definition – at least not yet – that is not consciously, or unconsciously rooted in the existing loaded nature of “spiritual” and “religious”.

Can I throw a spanner in the works here and ask – is there a difference between “religious” and “being faithful”? I ask this because it is how I often describe myself. It seems to me that to describe one self as being faithful is to actively divorce one self from the liberal vs. conservative, us vs. them, divisions.

Last week my friend and fellow Indie-Easterner Huw posed this question on Twitter: “Define ‘Spiritual but not religious’.” My initial response encompassed two ideas that I’ve encountered over the years from a significant number of people who describe themselves as being “spiritual but not religious”. First is the idea that the “institution” of religion impedes communion with God. Second that “dogma” or “doctrine” also impedes communion with God. Both of these themes have some very interesting problems. For example, people who describe themeselves as “spiritual but not religious” and go on to discuss their dissatisfaction at what they percieve to be the overly dogmatic nature of religous communities – frequently go on to make very clear statements of belief (doctrine) themselves. Opening the jar of questions about what do we know, and what do we percieve about the collection of teaching involved in a particular religious identity or praxis.

Huw uncovered an article from First Things “Spirituality Without Spirits” while a bit of a rant – makes an interesting point about the quality of being “non-dogmatic” in relation to also being “spiritual but not religious”:

“I don’t think Ms. Gaga or anyone else who talks like this has really thought it through. That God who forgives everyone and excludes no one doesn’t object to debauches in Berlin sex clubs. A point in his favor, from one point of view. But then he doesn’t object to murderers and torturers and corrupt bankers either. A point in his favor from no one’s point of view.”

Miller (the author) makes a fine point when he later says: “The word “spiritual” has no useful meaning if it does not refer to a relation to a real spirit. . . ” This is very true of course because that spirit necessarily has an identity, one which demands a particular relational mode, and that in turn shapes and informs the individual relating to it – just as all of our relationships shape and inform us as individuals.

In this morning’s news trawl I happened across another article this time in the Telegraph reporting that Mark Hucknull, the Chancellor of Lincoln Cathedral (a fantastic English cathedral by the way), criticises the “spiritual but not religous” crowd as selfish:

“To say that ‘I’ am ‘spiritual’ here is on a par with saying that ‘I’ am patient or thoughtful or generous; it is a description that is all about ‘me’.”

In truth this is not an unfair criticism. Think about the two themes already mentioned – the underlying issue in both is a desire to not be accountable, to not be challenged, and to not be expected to do X or Y in conjunction with one’s religious identity and praxis.

I’m aware that I’ve over-taken my usual 300 or so word limit so please bear with me just a few lines more, as I tie this into an OC/IC context. Ihave often heard indie folk, clergy and laity alike insist on being “non-dogmatic” or “non-doctrinal” – in essence “spiritual but not religious” the reasons given are that they endured the abuses of the “institutional church” and its imposition of doctrine through the activity of church officials. But It seems to me that they have run to the exact opposite extreme. The extremes at both ends are heretical as St. Epiphanius says in the Panarion.

“Spiritual but not religious” has had a lasting impact on the shape of the indie community over the past 20 years at least – one effect of this has been the simple fact that indie communities are fickle because people are afraid of committment, and they are afraid to call one another to account – because it might make them unpopular, and thereby shrink the “numbers” within the community. The problem with this model is that there is no integrity in it. Many people who convert – who become OC/IC believers do so because they are seeking a stronger connection between the integrity of the community and the practice of their sacramental Christian faith. “Spiritual but not religous” – non-dogmatic, simply does not cut it.

Have a look at the two articles, and maybe follow the sapling exchange of this thread on Twitter, but certainly add your thoughts to the comments below here.

Thanks to Lyngine for forwarding this rather interesting article from Newsweek to me. Lisa Miller (the article’s author) writes that a recent Pew Forum study shows that 7 percent of Americans worship in small groups in house churches rather than attending larger gatherings/congregational settings.

The article goes on to explore some of the reasons – the era of the mega church is over, one size does not fit all when it comes to worship & spirituality, and the rigid institutionalism of “traditional” denomonations distracts and deterrs the faithful.

What was interesting to me however, from an OC/IC perspective is the analogy between mega-church and micro-church and big brand beer, and micro-breweries. A bit flimsy at first but lets think about the branding ideas, the backround imagery for a moment. When you think micro-brewery, you think small, local producer, you think quality, traditional manufacturing but quirky enough to bend a bit here, and be flexible there.

Hmmm . . . perhaps this is not such a bad analogy aferall. Perhaps this is a decent working image set for an indie community to use to draw up an outreach plan for 2010?

Have a look at this vid of behavioral economist Dan Ariely describing an interesting experiment involving fake fashion – you know the ones – you find “Gucci”, “Prada” handbags and sunglasses being sold for £5 at street vendors all over London. In the experiment he discovers that wearing fake fashion items seems to . . . . “empower” the owner/wearer to cheat more – to be less honest.

Hmmmm . . . .

I find this all rather interesting. Firstly I find the desire for, the need to buy “fake” anything – let alone “fashion” items fascinating. It is the search for status (often unnecessary status), it is the aspiration towards excessive wealth (which has its own negative social and personal effects), I could go on and on . . .

Two things pop out for me that, in this scenario, are directly connected to theology. First there is that bizarre desire to be seen, and to be seen as somehow out of the ordinary, or important. Jesus criticises the religious leaders of his day for wearing tassels, expecting to be greeted in the market place, invited to dinners, and offered the place of honour. It would seem that this particular defect has not yet been winnowed from our indie community at least. Second, there is deception . . . . no deception is not really the right word . . . there is a sense of not being wholly “real” or “honest” – something that from the reference point of the teaching of Christ is . . . well . . . . . just a bit dodgey, no?

“Alternatively, if one denomination unexpectedly adopts an aggressive policy of buying shares in another, then the resulting volatility will make it hard accurately to assess the underlying reality.”

Mark Vernon’s essay in the Guardian Online playing with the imagery of possible parallels between the language, dynamic, and psychology of the eddies of spiritual and religious flux is a fun read – and given the often unstable nature of the Indie climate – rather thought provoking.