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).

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?

I came across this vid over at Emergent Village and it started me thinking again about what it means to belive, why we believe, and how we express and share that conviction in the little things – daily life.

Interestingly enough, this vid is also closely tied in with yesterday’s post on helping the poor (it’s towards the end – but be sure to watch the whole thing).

Last week’s Guardian (and other media here in the UK) reported the death by suicide of a 23 year old man paralysed in a rugby accident in March 2007; this is in addition to the recent reporting of Debbie Purdy, awaiting clarification from the High Court on the law that forbids others aiding those wishing to end their life. The difference between the two cases is that Daniel James’ condition was not a terminal illness in the usual sense, Debbie Purdy on the other hand has progressive MS.

One of the principal arguments in favour of a planned (and as necessary, assisted) death, is the relief of suffering, and ending one’s life with dignity. It is admittedly a strong point – one which from an OC/IC perspective we cannot discount. Is there value in life, purely for the sake of being alive; or does that life require . . . . something else, something personally tangible in order to . . . “justify” . . .  its continuance?

What also emerges here is the rather painful sense of loss . . . . and not just any loss, but the loss of hope. Daniel James described his situation as a prison, a second class existence . . . it was a life not worth living. He could no longer “justify” continuing.

“Hope” is, for us, is embodied in the Incarnation (Mt. 12.21); is expounded upon by the teaching, and actions of Christ, and the Apostle (Rom. 8.24ff): “for in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.” Enduring hope and confidence in Christ then is an essential element shaping our Christian identity. How then are we to discern a way forward in the face of what can only be described as an overwhelmingly “hopeless” situation?

These are not easy questions, and they do not have easy answers. To merely espouse the inherited thinking we bring to the table from our past denominational lives is, I think, short-sighted and does not contribute to expressing the independence of our own discernment and thought as OC/IC believers.