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?
Faithlab has this interesting snippet about a fundamentalist in California who is openly “praying” for the death of President Obama. They observe (I think correctly) that this is contrary to Jesus’ own example.
What is “prayer”? If we accept that it is that dialogue we have with God throughout the day – then is it not reasonable to expect that the lanuage of our prayer best reflects our aspiration to faithfulness to the teaching of the Gospel?
Paul reminds us to pray for what we need – rather than what we desire. There is I think wisdom here – sometimes we want something, it has caught our attention, or captivated our interest, but rather than contributing to our well being, it is a distraction, even destructive. Our sense of “desire” can be fuelled by ill concieved ideas, half formed thoughts, envy, competition with others . . . you get the idea. If we prayed for what we “desired” and found that those desires were fulfilled – we might later regret having asked for it! In this light then – can any faithful Christian truly believe that praying for the death of another human being (or any being for that matter) does not fall into this category?
But it got me thinking – are there instances of prayers in our liturgies that do not best reflect the gospel ethos? I’m not talking here of instituting a campaign of political correctness – as many regulars already know I find PC language to more often than not be more offensive and distorting than the original texts – rather I’m wondering out-loud if some of the historic “traditional” prayers might need a bit of editing for the sake of faithfulness to the teaching of the Gospel.
Given the referendums in the US, and the rise of violent (even deadly) attacks on LGB folk here in the UK this examination of the relationship between religion and LGBT youth appeared to be rather timely.
I was not aware for example, of the high percentage of homeless teens who identify as LGB folk. Moreover, the frightening consequences of their homelessness – entering the sex-trade to survive is a point well worth discussion – particularly as it has a direct impact on Christian ethics, and teaching – we who are baptised are charged to actively seek to end the suffering of others, and as I wrote some time ago:
What can we do? As individuals we can refuse to visit pornographic sites, we can support organisations that help work to free homeless teens (all of them – not just the gay ones!) from the sex-trade, and we can talk about this often un-discussed issue with others. As OC/IC communities . . . well, there are any number of ways that we can work together, collaborate, and make a real difference. But that would have to begin with our first building more trust with one another. Something I’m afraid is in lamentably short supply.
“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.
Here’s an interesting article about a recent study in religous trends. I’ve not actually had time yet to look at the study itself (still reminding myself that I do indeed speak English after 2 weeks of intensive French) that’ll have to wait for a few days. But I invite you to get a head start and pop your thoughts in the comment box.
Siobhan’s newest book, the product of her Phd work, is of interest to “Indie-philes” as it is a historical exploration of the links between Western esoteric Christianity and the Independent Catholic movement.
Priests, Gnostics & Magicians traces two particular streams of esoteric links in the indie movement, first the link with French Gnostic movements, Martinism in particular, and second, the link between Theosophy, and the emergence of the Liberal Catholic tradition.
It’s worth noting that “esoteric” ideas and movements are not particular to the indie community but pre-existed us in both the Roman Catholic, and Protestant traditions. One of the earliest attempts at deciphering Heiroglyphs, for example, was heavily influenced by esoteric ideas. John Dee, Elizabeth I’s astrologer & diviner (curious at a time when religion, in particular the “Christian” religion was a political hot button issue in England and in Europe generally) as well as Newton were of a heavy esoteric bent.
You can grab a copy of Siobhan’s book at Amazon by clicking here. A link will also appear on our kiosk page very soon.
Today we celebrate the two fold recovery of the cross. Firstly when St. Helen found the cross under the temple of Aphrodite (built by Hadrian over the site of Golgotha) in AD 324. There were all three crosses, that of Christ and the two thieves. According to tradition, St. Helen was at a loss as to which was the “true” cross. The local bishop, Macarius however, had a clever solution, and brought a certain lady from the city, who was near to death, and asked her to touch the crosses. The one that cured her, was the true cross – the “Tree of Life”.
Later in the seventh century the Persians sacked Jerusalem, and took the cross as a war trophy in AD 614. In AD628 the Emperor Heraclius recovered it in a military campaign. According to the legend he went to Jerusalem to restore it to its place in the shrine of the Resurrection, arrayed in his splendid imperial attire, but was prevented from entering by “an invisible hand”. Zacharias, the then Archbishop of Jerusalem stepped forward saying: “Beware your Majesty! These precious vestmens and priceless jewels are the marks of human pride: this does not conform with the poverty of Jesus Christ, nor with his humility in bearing the cross.” Chastised, Heraclius stripped, borrowed a simple cloak, and proceeded barefoot from there, whereupon the assembly prostrated themselves before the cross singing the hymn we still sing today:
“We bow before your cross O Christ, and we sing a hymn of glory to your resurrection!”
One lesson we can learn from this legend – which is more than appropriate in our indie context – is that titles, vestments, jewellery, all “ekklesiastical bling” is meaningless before Christ. All that matters is living the teachings of the Master, with integrity and humility.
I watched this vid from Religion & Ethics News Weekly this morning and it reminded me of the work I did when studying at Oxford on the features and functions of “Sacred Space”.
What constitutes “Sacred Space” will vary from one person to the next – from one group to the next – I realised this when doing a comparative study during my course-work. Part of the project was to visit two radically different Anglican communities, in this case St. Ebbs, and Pusey House for a service to see how the space was used, how the two services in the same communion compared, and so on; then to compare that with my own experience as an Eastern rite OC/IC believer. The whole experience was fascinating – and allowed me to explore and experience various elements of “Sacred Space” I’d never previously considered.
Because we are Indie folk, because we are people of faith, I think we often take sacred spaces for granted – we “know” them, but we don’t often stop to consider them, because they are so very familiar to us.
And yet – for many of our communities – “sacred space” is something that we must improvise. Many of our communities do not meet in an “established” sacred space (borrowed, rented, or even “owned”) – we meet in living rooms, sitting rooms, kitchens, pubs, and parks. So how do we, in our context, create and envisage sacred spaces? There is a custom in Chaldean communities – that emerged under the Ottomans, where the space is consecrated and de-consecrated at the beginning and end of each liturgy. What steps do our communities take when meeting in non-religious spaces, or even non-indie spaces to consciously be aware of this thing we call “Sacred Space”?
This essay in Religion Dispatches is really compelling. The politics of the impending health care reform in the US, while fascinating, is of no interest to us here (if you’re a regular you’ll know we don’t do anything but indie thinking and issues), rather the discussion about how a mythology takes shape.
The “key” feature is how a group takes an image, and “re-interprets” it (sometimes at the expense of its “real” meaning or substance). Which is what is certainly happening in the case of the current debate in the US. But here’s my question – for good or for ill, how have we indie folk done this, and how do we continue to do it?
How have we taken “images” from our inherited language about “church” and “catholicism” and re-interpreted them; what has been the “cost” of this re-interpretation? Has it hemmed us in, or liberated us? Does it inspire, or merely trap us in the cage of old, un-healthy models of religious expression?
Maximos was a noble who served the imperial family as private secretary. However, as the monothelite controversey arose (promoted by the emperor and the then Patriarch Paul), Maximos became an outspoken critic of the new teaching. Unable to persuade the imperial court and the Patriarch, Maximos left the city for the Monastary at Chrysopolis – where he eventually became abbot. The emperor Constans tried to censure him with no success until he had Maximos’ tongue removed, and his right hand severed. Maximos died in the Caucasus on 13 August 662.
Monotheletism – “single will” – taught that while Christ had two natures he only had one “will” or “energy”. This debate began in the early fifth century with the Nestorian controversy and to be sure has never been solved satisfactorily. Nice thing about being catholic – we like a bit of mystery (grin).
We can learn from the example of Maximos and Constans. Maximos was steadfast in his position, and made every available effort to persuade people through his writing, speech, even to the point of instigating a council to engage with the matter properly. Constans, on the other hand resorted to brute force in an effort to silence the troublesome saint.
