We all have perceptions, however vague, about places we know of but are on the fringes of our geographical awareness. Before moving to Bradford, what did my mental map read? Slightly edgy: 'Brad' has a brash, cocky ring, like Mr Pitt in his Stetson and boots in Thelma and Louise. Bradford City Football Club, Leeds-Bradford Airport... 2001 race riots brought awareness of its Asian population, and recent TV dramas have highlighted its associations with Islam and possible terrorist plots.
Living here, I've also tasted its distinctive Yorkshire flavour: York stone terraces and factories, earthy accent that remains at the attractive end of the regional scale. I've been moving between two distinct zones: Idle village, centuries old, hilly, quaint, barely a non-white face to be seen; and the city centre, slightly shambolic, bustling with multi-ethnic mix. The regal Midland Hotel overlooks a large cratered space that, having lain derelict for years, is now busily grazed by piston dinosaurs watched over by men in hard hats.
In the cluster of shopping streets, a scattering of black clad fully veiled figures move furtively, but most Asian girls wear happier attire, commonly loose bright-coloured trousers tight at the ankles, silver or gold heels and long silken scarves. A posse of three strolled down the street yesterday in almost identical blue white and black. And the stores where I hunted out a running top sported a noticeable contingent of Asian staff: red-T-shirted assistants, hefty crew-cut security guard.
Religious and ethnic plurality lends an exciting buzz to a place like Bradford. But it's taken me a while to learn to relax and enjoy such pulsating diversity. Partly through being quite introverted in my younger years, my Christianity used to be too attached to a limited range of experience 'markers'. Big changes in environment and circumstances, like going to university, or to Korea to teach English, produced crises of faith. I've had to develop a broader conception and experience of the love and wisdom of God to weather such storms; a common experience I'm sure. And it's an ongoing process. Bradford's multi-ethnic, cultural mix reflects the world at large: plural, complex, diverse. It's a constant challenge to ponder how a faith like Christianity is not time and culture bound, a fragile ornament in an easily shattered box; but liquid and dynamic with the potential for life and influence in all times and circumstances.
But it's about time I had lunch :)
Saturday, 3 May 2008
Tuesday, 29 April 2008
Religion on the box
Last night I watched a fascinating programme on BBC2 about religion, psychology and mental health, 'Am I normal?' presented by psychologist Dr Tanya Byron. Atheist readers would have found a friend here; I hope no-one would mind me saying she's quite a looker as well. Early on she spoke to a street evangelist who'd received an ASBO; and a nun. She suggested, quite plausibly I thought, that the reason for the public's broadly contrasting responses to the two - suspicion and uncomfortableness towards the one, acceptance towards the other - had a lot to do with context; the street preacher was operating outside a recognised religious context, the nun within one (this bears on my own line of work, seeking to place spiritually oriented radio programming in the secular arena of commercial radio - but more on that another time).
Dr Byron seemed intrigued by the self-denying lifestyle of the nun of her own age she spoke to; a reminder to me of the power of testimony and experience, which has the potential to transcend intellectual barriers. 'Your willingness to put your life on the line like this communicates more eloquently than words or argument the possibility that 'there's something in this'' may have been a thought that at least flickered across her mind.
The faith healer Benny Hinn was also featured, and I have to say, the rally shown in India with vast enraptured audience, a wheelchair being carried off and one poor fellow's head being rocked up and down back and forth like a rag doll... created the decided impression of a showman, to put it cautiously. Right down to the white suit (and presumably, shoes). Less diplomatic terms, such as one beginning with 'char' and ending in 'tan' proffer themselves, but I'd be the la-st one to jump to conclusions. And I don't know the man and his ministry well enough to speak with any authority - so I'd be interested to hear from anyone with a different perspective.
But on the other hand... a thought to challenge atheists too. One of my biggest objections to viewpoints such as Dr Byron's is the insistence on reduction and seeing things through either just one or a very limited range of lenses. 'No scientific evidence for God or the power of prayer'. Prayer is not and was never meant to be a slot machine to convince atheists. If it's not considered - and in the last resort experienced - in a context of trust, relationship and personal transformation then it's always going to look odd from the sidelines.
Scripture and the message of Christ through a lens of faith can be compared, to posit two images in my mind of late, to a mountain range or a treasure chest - inviting exploration and enjoyment. I was struck the other day by the power of Christ's character to elicit fascination and faith; to cite just one example that's especially relevant in relation to atheist debate: his ability when questioned and attacked, simply to be silent. That self-control and composure frankly evinces a greatness of character more persuasive and compelling than any mere intellectual debate. But without a spark of trust releasing this kind of truth in its full flush of colour - acknowledging there's an elusiveness to 'faith' in atheist eyes that bears further reflection - I guess it's always going to look strange and nonsensical at best. And dare I say it, slightly monochrome?
But enough for today.
Dr Byron seemed intrigued by the self-denying lifestyle of the nun of her own age she spoke to; a reminder to me of the power of testimony and experience, which has the potential to transcend intellectual barriers. 'Your willingness to put your life on the line like this communicates more eloquently than words or argument the possibility that 'there's something in this'' may have been a thought that at least flickered across her mind.
The faith healer Benny Hinn was also featured, and I have to say, the rally shown in India with vast enraptured audience, a wheelchair being carried off and one poor fellow's head being rocked up and down back and forth like a rag doll... created the decided impression of a showman, to put it cautiously. Right down to the white suit (and presumably, shoes). Less diplomatic terms, such as one beginning with 'char' and ending in 'tan' proffer themselves, but I'd be the la-st one to jump to conclusions. And I don't know the man and his ministry well enough to speak with any authority - so I'd be interested to hear from anyone with a different perspective.
But on the other hand... a thought to challenge atheists too. One of my biggest objections to viewpoints such as Dr Byron's is the insistence on reduction and seeing things through either just one or a very limited range of lenses. 'No scientific evidence for God or the power of prayer'. Prayer is not and was never meant to be a slot machine to convince atheists. If it's not considered - and in the last resort experienced - in a context of trust, relationship and personal transformation then it's always going to look odd from the sidelines.
Scripture and the message of Christ through a lens of faith can be compared, to posit two images in my mind of late, to a mountain range or a treasure chest - inviting exploration and enjoyment. I was struck the other day by the power of Christ's character to elicit fascination and faith; to cite just one example that's especially relevant in relation to atheist debate: his ability when questioned and attacked, simply to be silent. That self-control and composure frankly evinces a greatness of character more persuasive and compelling than any mere intellectual debate. But without a spark of trust releasing this kind of truth in its full flush of colour - acknowledging there's an elusiveness to 'faith' in atheist eyes that bears further reflection - I guess it's always going to look strange and nonsensical at best. And dare I say it, slightly monochrome?
But enough for today.
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Pubs, banners and a sermon illustration
A few more ruminations from Sunday... The reader - a Yorkshire woman, her accent gave it away - spoke on the NT passage containing 'once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God' (once I've unpacked my concordance - along with all my other books - I might be able to give you a reference for that). Her most memorable illustration in a good sermon was this: just as celebrity memorabilia acquires great value simply through having belonged to someone famous, so also we as children of God have immense value simply through belonging to Him. As so easily happens to me even in a good sermon, the next paragraph or two was unfortunately obscured by a reverie triggered by this one thought: recalling a Radio 1 DJ explaining how being a fan of the late Kenneth Williams had inspired him to acquire almost all of the great man's possessions from his godson, as they were yet to be auctioned. He admitted that having KW's old clothes stashed away in his attic was a little creepy. I'll say. But you get my point (hopefully).
The closing worship brought another surprise. Out of the corner of my eye I'd noticed him unfurling a very large lilac banner; the next thing I knew, a man, probably in his early forties, came dancing down the aisle, rotating this banner helicopter fashion, round his head in a rippling silken figure of eight, then at the front of the church round his body in a whirling fluttering column... concluding the dance with other worshipful body gestures.
Now back at St Silas in Glasgow, I've seen several younger members of the congregation use banners, and I think its undoubted visual grace makes it a valuable contribution to worship. But what impressed me particularly here was, frankly, the bloke's age. I mean how many men in their forties can you imagine doing this? Kind of breaks a few basic markers of the traditional 'masculine image' if you ask me. I guess it could easily have been uncomfortable and 'cringey' to watch, but it wasn't; it was powerful and moving. It could only be so, of course, because the guy was actually pretty good at it - and, I learned, he only did it occasionally, when he felt led by the Spirit. In other words, don't necessarily 'try this at home':). Still, for my first church service in Bradford, quite an experience to be part of. Well done sir.
I also didn't mention having chatted with some friendly folk over coffee, including one Mavis, married to one Errol (they don't make names how they used to). I'll be exploring some other churches Sunday evenings (I went with my house-mate to St Peter's in Shipley this one just gone). But those bells of Holy Trinity pealing within a stone's throw have a come hither beckoning embrace that may be hard to resist on a Sunday morning (could be a different story if I wasn't a church-goer!).
I noticed the Lord Clyde pub is named after 'possibly the most famous British soldier of the mid-nineteenth century'. There you go. Since then I've also noticed The Wrose Bull, The Swing Gate and The Balloon and Basket. At the top of the road, corner of High Street/Town Lane junction, also sits the 'Towngate Fisheries', proudly displaying it's banner 'Winner Best Fish and Chip Shop Yorkshire area 2007'. This is quite a place.
In due course I'll share more of what I'm actually doing with Whistling Frog Productions. For the moment, putting finishing touches to my first newsletter. Also pondering a possible first programme idea, based around BBC1's 'The Apprentice'. 'You're hired'? (not my line, I admit).
The closing worship brought another surprise. Out of the corner of my eye I'd noticed him unfurling a very large lilac banner; the next thing I knew, a man, probably in his early forties, came dancing down the aisle, rotating this banner helicopter fashion, round his head in a rippling silken figure of eight, then at the front of the church round his body in a whirling fluttering column... concluding the dance with other worshipful body gestures.
Now back at St Silas in Glasgow, I've seen several younger members of the congregation use banners, and I think its undoubted visual grace makes it a valuable contribution to worship. But what impressed me particularly here was, frankly, the bloke's age. I mean how many men in their forties can you imagine doing this? Kind of breaks a few basic markers of the traditional 'masculine image' if you ask me. I guess it could easily have been uncomfortable and 'cringey' to watch, but it wasn't; it was powerful and moving. It could only be so, of course, because the guy was actually pretty good at it - and, I learned, he only did it occasionally, when he felt led by the Spirit. In other words, don't necessarily 'try this at home':). Still, for my first church service in Bradford, quite an experience to be part of. Well done sir.
I also didn't mention having chatted with some friendly folk over coffee, including one Mavis, married to one Errol (they don't make names how they used to). I'll be exploring some other churches Sunday evenings (I went with my house-mate to St Peter's in Shipley this one just gone). But those bells of Holy Trinity pealing within a stone's throw have a come hither beckoning embrace that may be hard to resist on a Sunday morning (could be a different story if I wasn't a church-goer!).
I noticed the Lord Clyde pub is named after 'possibly the most famous British soldier of the mid-nineteenth century'. There you go. Since then I've also noticed The Wrose Bull, The Swing Gate and The Balloon and Basket. At the top of the road, corner of High Street/Town Lane junction, also sits the 'Towngate Fisheries', proudly displaying it's banner 'Winner Best Fish and Chip Shop Yorkshire area 2007'. This is quite a place.
In due course I'll share more of what I'm actually doing with Whistling Frog Productions. For the moment, putting finishing touches to my first newsletter. Also pondering a possible first programme idea, based around BBC1's 'The Apprentice'. 'You're hired'? (not my line, I admit).
Sunday, 20 April 2008
Idle ways
I notice how moving to a new place has given me a new interest in Facebook, basically because I hardly know anyone down here. I do have a lovely cousin, Joy, who lives with her husband in nearby Guiseley (pronounced, most definitely I am assured, like disguise (at first I got it wrong, doh)), an aunt, Ann, in Leeds, and my venerable godfather Arthur, who teaches at Bradford University and lives in the village of Addingham. And a friend of my house-mate Neil has been up since Wednesday night, doing some paintwork on the house, kipping in the living room and joining us for communal feeds in the evening; including, fittingly enough, on Friday night my 'legendary' lentil curry.
In short, I'm not utterly friendless and alone :)
But this morning, Sunday, I made my first serious foray into the local community, walking round the corner to Holy Trinity Parish Church, Idle, whose gothic flank is clearly visible through the trees from my bedroom window, and whose bell I hear softly tolling on the hour.
I'd heard the Thursday evening bell-ringing practice, and at ten o'clock this morning the fruit of this labour tumbled and cascaded in joyous melody across the village. Such an exuberant call to worship, such a resonant symbol of English religious heritage; but also, I couldn't help imagining, for the New Inn Saturday night revelers and other godless Idle hordes:), possibly a right nuisance.
The service itself was a pleasure. Within this ancient frame of buttresses and bells - not so long ago the church celebrated its 175th birthday - the life of the Spirit evidently bubbles. While my initial impression was of a bit of a congregational split, with an exuberant youthful band of arm-raisers at the front and more venerable members sitting in scattered reserve further back, a feeling of collective warmth grew. Warm purple carpet and chairs replaced pews (I learned) a few years back, and the reader's long rich blue scarf - someone tell me the proper word - echoed the ornate blues and reds of the arching stained glass window at the front, depicting the ascending Christ with worshipful disciples and angelic hosts...
What an intriguing little place Idle village is. On Wednesday afternoon, after a monthly prayer morning with the HCJB team, I took a short wander. I'd already noticed at the junction at the top of the high street, across the road from my bus stop, the 'Idle National Spiritualist Church'. Gold lettered 'Stage 84' marks out a blackened converted church hall in the middle of this crossroads, and moseying a little further, I discovered a plaque reading 'Stage 84 Yorkshire Performing Arts School', of which this building was evidently the original venue.
Just behind is the Idle and Thackley Conservative Club, with patron only parking. Further on is the 'Cambing Cricket' ground, a green field which, while smooth enough, has a gradient and general lumpiness affording the impression it is unlikely to have seen a game for some years. But summer could prove me wrong.
Idle also boasts a collection of olde English pubs, the general character of which has been sketched to me by colleague Nick who's local to the area: the 1840 one's called 'The Oddfellows Hall', then there's 'The Coniston', 'The New Inn' - fronted by garish boards advertising its disco, karaoke and sports nights, and 'The White Bear' and 'The White Swan'. Apparently Bear good, Swan bad (drugs). We'll see. Nearer central Bradford I've also spotted the 'Horse and Farrier', 'The Lord Clyde' (I thought I'd left Glasgow); and my favourite so far, 'The Corn Dolly'. Cute.
In short, I'm not utterly friendless and alone :)
But this morning, Sunday, I made my first serious foray into the local community, walking round the corner to Holy Trinity Parish Church, Idle, whose gothic flank is clearly visible through the trees from my bedroom window, and whose bell I hear softly tolling on the hour.
I'd heard the Thursday evening bell-ringing practice, and at ten o'clock this morning the fruit of this labour tumbled and cascaded in joyous melody across the village. Such an exuberant call to worship, such a resonant symbol of English religious heritage; but also, I couldn't help imagining, for the New Inn Saturday night revelers and other godless Idle hordes:), possibly a right nuisance.
The service itself was a pleasure. Within this ancient frame of buttresses and bells - not so long ago the church celebrated its 175th birthday - the life of the Spirit evidently bubbles. While my initial impression was of a bit of a congregational split, with an exuberant youthful band of arm-raisers at the front and more venerable members sitting in scattered reserve further back, a feeling of collective warmth grew. Warm purple carpet and chairs replaced pews (I learned) a few years back, and the reader's long rich blue scarf - someone tell me the proper word - echoed the ornate blues and reds of the arching stained glass window at the front, depicting the ascending Christ with worshipful disciples and angelic hosts...
What an intriguing little place Idle village is. On Wednesday afternoon, after a monthly prayer morning with the HCJB team, I took a short wander. I'd already noticed at the junction at the top of the high street, across the road from my bus stop, the 'Idle National Spiritualist Church'. Gold lettered 'Stage 84' marks out a blackened converted church hall in the middle of this crossroads, and moseying a little further, I discovered a plaque reading 'Stage 84 Yorkshire Performing Arts School', of which this building was evidently the original venue.
Just behind is the Idle and Thackley Conservative Club, with patron only parking. Further on is the 'Cambing Cricket' ground, a green field which, while smooth enough, has a gradient and general lumpiness affording the impression it is unlikely to have seen a game for some years. But summer could prove me wrong.
Idle also boasts a collection of olde English pubs, the general character of which has been sketched to me by colleague Nick who's local to the area: the 1840 one's called 'The Oddfellows Hall', then there's 'The Coniston', 'The New Inn' - fronted by garish boards advertising its disco, karaoke and sports nights, and 'The White Bear' and 'The White Swan'. Apparently Bear good, Swan bad (drugs). We'll see. Nearer central Bradford I've also spotted the 'Horse and Farrier', 'The Lord Clyde' (I thought I'd left Glasgow); and my favourite so far, 'The Corn Dolly'. Cute.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Hello Bradford
I'd intended to make my getaway on Saturday after lunch, but an underestimate of the packing project combined with the siren call of Doctor Who persuaded me late afternoon that it might be best to hold off till the next morning. So just before midday Sunday, I finally eased the hire transit van with my life in the back, out of the gates of The Laurels, Bridge of Weir, and headed south to the North. Annie Mac on Radio One kept me amused most of the way down the M74/M6, especially 'Sunday Squabbles', one of those bizarre confessional features where people call in under the odd impression that broadcasting their problems to the nation and awaiting solutions phoned in by the public beats sitting down for a private chat, any day.
Stopping at Annandale Water services, Johnstonebridge for a spot of light refreshment, a quiet stroll round the pond was broken by the alarming sound of my name being barked from behind: 'Bruce! Bruce, stop it! Don't you dare...' I was relieved to discover on turning round that it wasn't some scary individual from my past who couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to leave without saying goodbye, or repaying some long forgotten loan - but the owner of a black lab that was finding the idea of a dip all too tempting.
Soon after turning off the M6 onto the A65 cross country, I began to feel like I was in Yorkshire. And nearing my destination, I was conscious of entering a distinctly northern town; the hills laced with Coronation Street style terraces, the factory chimneys, the local stone, the peaked caps... (ok, not that last one). Once in Bradford, the AA directions broke down and I had to stop and ask a couple of times to reach my destination of Garth Fold in the village of Idle. It's a name I'm going to have to fight against, but all the same, a lovely wee spot, if you'll excuse the Scottish twang (heavens, I'm actually moving closer to my roots coming here - Guisborough on the north edge of Yorkshire - so there's really no excuse)... quiet stone courtyard type layout, rural aspect, trees, nice view, small Anglican church nearby with a bell tolling on the hour (so far hasn't disturbed my sleep too much)... and across the road from the famous 'Idle Working Men's Club' - you couldn't make this up - circa 1928, and just up the road from a pub whose name I'll need to go and check, dating from 1840.
Sunday night I had my first carry-out curry from the Idle Balti - a smooth creamy chicken 'makhani', beautiful. I think I could get used to this place.
Stopping at Annandale Water services, Johnstonebridge for a spot of light refreshment, a quiet stroll round the pond was broken by the alarming sound of my name being barked from behind: 'Bruce! Bruce, stop it! Don't you dare...' I was relieved to discover on turning round that it wasn't some scary individual from my past who couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to leave without saying goodbye, or repaying some long forgotten loan - but the owner of a black lab that was finding the idea of a dip all too tempting.
Soon after turning off the M6 onto the A65 cross country, I began to feel like I was in Yorkshire. And nearing my destination, I was conscious of entering a distinctly northern town; the hills laced with Coronation Street style terraces, the factory chimneys, the local stone, the peaked caps... (ok, not that last one). Once in Bradford, the AA directions broke down and I had to stop and ask a couple of times to reach my destination of Garth Fold in the village of Idle. It's a name I'm going to have to fight against, but all the same, a lovely wee spot, if you'll excuse the Scottish twang (heavens, I'm actually moving closer to my roots coming here - Guisborough on the north edge of Yorkshire - so there's really no excuse)... quiet stone courtyard type layout, rural aspect, trees, nice view, small Anglican church nearby with a bell tolling on the hour (so far hasn't disturbed my sleep too much)... and across the road from the famous 'Idle Working Men's Club' - you couldn't make this up - circa 1928, and just up the road from a pub whose name I'll need to go and check, dating from 1840.
Sunday night I had my first carry-out curry from the Idle Balti - a smooth creamy chicken 'makhani', beautiful. I think I could get used to this place.
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
Fool's gold?
Sadly I haven't yet been able to catch up with all the comments on the last post yet, but with a new month dawning and at the risk of looking a fool (for Christ:)), I just want to articulate a little more - particularly for the benefit of atheist readers - how I see the life of faith. I want to widen the camera angle again for a moment.
Atheists have - quite rightly - a high degree of interest in reason and evidence, and how truth claims match up to these. And from what I've read, they often seem to have a pretty low opinion of how religion squares up on these fronts. Let me just clarify, in case there is any doubt, that as I understand it from my reading and investigation about faith and Christianity in particular: defences of the faith also put a very high premium on these criteria, of reasonableness and evidence. So there's plainly a sharp disagreement here.
There's a big discussion to be had about the nature and status of 'evidence'. But just to sketch one of the most obvious broad brush contrasts between the sceptical view, and the faith one. Sceptics are looking for 'evidence' that is tangible and unmistakable to any neutral observer, but within a framework of quite narrowly defined criteria, similar to criteria for observing physical phenomena in a scientific experiment. The common cry is 'Prove it', 'Give me evidence'. By contrast, my impression is that the lens employed in Christian apologetics to discuss the validity of faith from a perspective of reason and evidence, is generally wider. A broader exploration is attempted of how reason and faith operate in real life, in a variety of areas. And a broad criticism that would be levelled at the sceptical viewpoint from this perspective is that it doesn't consistently apply the same principles it uses to attack faith, in other broad areas of thought and life. It strains gnats but swallows camels, to quote, if you don't mind me doing so, er, Jesus.
But here is where the heart comes in. A good defence of Christianity will show the value but also the limitations of reason in attaining truth in its broadest senses. It will show how reason and the evidence that is there leads, invites, beckons, not by proof but with intellectual integrity intact, to the threshold of faith. The heart matters here; there has to be an open-ness. But if that threshold is crossed, like Lucy stepping into the wardrobe, then a whole new world is unveiled. Life and perspective can be changed, perhaps slowly, perhaps suddenly; like the life blood in a butterfly's wings transforming it from grey chrysalis to a vision of light and beauty, or the wind in a surfer's sail lifting the board and sending it coursing across the waves. A step is taken; power, energy, life and motion are released.
Last week my three year old niece and her parents were up to stay. At one point, when we were swinging her or something, her mum said, 'They're so trusting'. A child's instinct to trust becomes in an adult so easily stifled and withered, instead of growing and developing alongside the - no denying it, crucial - capacities to reason, question and critique. Trust opens up experience, and indeed knowledge and revelation that are unattainable without it. It's quite possible to think people with faith are deluded if you want to. But I'd say that sceptics need to consider carefully, with a wide angle lens, if the phenomenon of religious faith in the world, which embraces many sane, thinking people, really falls into the same kind of category as belief in unicorns, fairies and the like. The more dare I say it 'scientific' approach in dealing with a large phenomena of this kind is to explore and examine it first from as many angles, and in as much depth, as possible.
Who knows where that might lead?
Atheists have - quite rightly - a high degree of interest in reason and evidence, and how truth claims match up to these. And from what I've read, they often seem to have a pretty low opinion of how religion squares up on these fronts. Let me just clarify, in case there is any doubt, that as I understand it from my reading and investigation about faith and Christianity in particular: defences of the faith also put a very high premium on these criteria, of reasonableness and evidence. So there's plainly a sharp disagreement here.
There's a big discussion to be had about the nature and status of 'evidence'. But just to sketch one of the most obvious broad brush contrasts between the sceptical view, and the faith one. Sceptics are looking for 'evidence' that is tangible and unmistakable to any neutral observer, but within a framework of quite narrowly defined criteria, similar to criteria for observing physical phenomena in a scientific experiment. The common cry is 'Prove it', 'Give me evidence'. By contrast, my impression is that the lens employed in Christian apologetics to discuss the validity of faith from a perspective of reason and evidence, is generally wider. A broader exploration is attempted of how reason and faith operate in real life, in a variety of areas. And a broad criticism that would be levelled at the sceptical viewpoint from this perspective is that it doesn't consistently apply the same principles it uses to attack faith, in other broad areas of thought and life. It strains gnats but swallows camels, to quote, if you don't mind me doing so, er, Jesus.
But here is where the heart comes in. A good defence of Christianity will show the value but also the limitations of reason in attaining truth in its broadest senses. It will show how reason and the evidence that is there leads, invites, beckons, not by proof but with intellectual integrity intact, to the threshold of faith. The heart matters here; there has to be an open-ness. But if that threshold is crossed, like Lucy stepping into the wardrobe, then a whole new world is unveiled. Life and perspective can be changed, perhaps slowly, perhaps suddenly; like the life blood in a butterfly's wings transforming it from grey chrysalis to a vision of light and beauty, or the wind in a surfer's sail lifting the board and sending it coursing across the waves. A step is taken; power, energy, life and motion are released.
Last week my three year old niece and her parents were up to stay. At one point, when we were swinging her or something, her mum said, 'They're so trusting'. A child's instinct to trust becomes in an adult so easily stifled and withered, instead of growing and developing alongside the - no denying it, crucial - capacities to reason, question and critique. Trust opens up experience, and indeed knowledge and revelation that are unattainable without it. It's quite possible to think people with faith are deluded if you want to. But I'd say that sceptics need to consider carefully, with a wide angle lens, if the phenomenon of religious faith in the world, which embraces many sane, thinking people, really falls into the same kind of category as belief in unicorns, fairies and the like. The more dare I say it 'scientific' approach in dealing with a large phenomena of this kind is to explore and examine it first from as many angles, and in as much depth, as possible.
Who knows where that might lead?
Thursday, 13 March 2008
Breaking open the vessel
As I haven't posted for a fortnight, here's a comment I wrote in response to Jonathan's post on 'Musings' top right, 'Science and its limits: Chapter Seven', March 8th. It expresses some of my recent thoughts about faith.
'...I don't think God will be found in the detached testable way you want. We're looking at reality in very different ways, like through a different lens or set of specs. I'm thinking about how people move from atheism to belief in God, and it strikes me that the idea of paradigm shift is helpful here: a different way of looking at reality. And while discussion has a part to play in tackling intellectual problems, you'd likely find from testimony that things like time and experience - or a particular very striking experience - have a part to play. CS Lewis in 'Surprised by joy' is a case in point (he like A McGrath was an atheist first).
If you see reality through this radically different paradigm, then it - the same reality we all see - can positively throb with a sense of the presence of God, at least some of the time; eg ask an African Christian, I'm sure from the perspective of a culture steeped in a sense of the spiritual character of the world and nature, he/she would give a very different account of what reality looks like from a western secularist.
I'm just trying to challenge the secular science view a bit here.
For me, evidence of God is primarily relational - though this has taken time to develop. Not through detached observation of data. A good starting point is a simple step like the prayer, 'God, if you are real, please reveal yourself to me', with even a 'mustard seed' of at least openness. It could be mixed with a load of scepticism and questions to be answered - it'd just be a start. Who knows what might happen given time. Another principle of 'evidence' from the Christian perspective is, act on the little that is revealed, even just a small step like a question to read up on, and more truth and presence (of God) are revealed.
REVELATION is a key concept; that we don't have to work it all out for ourselves, but that God reveals Himself. In various ways, nature, the bible, and primarily through a Person, Jesus. It is through dynamic interacting personal relationship with Christ as revealed in scripture that I experience God's reality in a growing way from day to day. It's a whole being interaction, head, heart, will, not just head. Yes, some intellectual obstacles may need to be removed first, and go on being removed. But then it's like a process of surrender - not of your brain, but of your whole being, to the reality of God as personal dynamic presence that breaks and crashes upon you like waves.
I'm just trying here to give a clearer picture of what having faith in God looks and feels like for a Christian - spurred by the 'evidence' question J.
I've been meditating recently over several days on John 9 in the bible, about a man born blind who was healed by Jesus - had an experience no-one could take from him, even in the teeth of strong opposition and questioning from the religious elite of the day. It seems relevant. Again, this is a way I think God is revealed, through narrative and drama, not just philosophical or scientific speculation.
Think about what's going on when you fall in love, or read an epic like Lord of the Rings - examples of something like the kind of suspension of intellectual scepticism, and openness and vulnerability of heart and imagination that are involved in faith in God.
No, I haven't been on acid. I'm just a bit more lucid in the morning.'
'...I don't think God will be found in the detached testable way you want. We're looking at reality in very different ways, like through a different lens or set of specs. I'm thinking about how people move from atheism to belief in God, and it strikes me that the idea of paradigm shift is helpful here: a different way of looking at reality. And while discussion has a part to play in tackling intellectual problems, you'd likely find from testimony that things like time and experience - or a particular very striking experience - have a part to play. CS Lewis in 'Surprised by joy' is a case in point (he like A McGrath was an atheist first).
If you see reality through this radically different paradigm, then it - the same reality we all see - can positively throb with a sense of the presence of God, at least some of the time; eg ask an African Christian, I'm sure from the perspective of a culture steeped in a sense of the spiritual character of the world and nature, he/she would give a very different account of what reality looks like from a western secularist.
I'm just trying to challenge the secular science view a bit here.
For me, evidence of God is primarily relational - though this has taken time to develop. Not through detached observation of data. A good starting point is a simple step like the prayer, 'God, if you are real, please reveal yourself to me', with even a 'mustard seed' of at least openness. It could be mixed with a load of scepticism and questions to be answered - it'd just be a start. Who knows what might happen given time. Another principle of 'evidence' from the Christian perspective is, act on the little that is revealed, even just a small step like a question to read up on, and more truth and presence (of God) are revealed.
REVELATION is a key concept; that we don't have to work it all out for ourselves, but that God reveals Himself. In various ways, nature, the bible, and primarily through a Person, Jesus. It is through dynamic interacting personal relationship with Christ as revealed in scripture that I experience God's reality in a growing way from day to day. It's a whole being interaction, head, heart, will, not just head. Yes, some intellectual obstacles may need to be removed first, and go on being removed. But then it's like a process of surrender - not of your brain, but of your whole being, to the reality of God as personal dynamic presence that breaks and crashes upon you like waves.
I'm just trying here to give a clearer picture of what having faith in God looks and feels like for a Christian - spurred by the 'evidence' question J.
I've been meditating recently over several days on John 9 in the bible, about a man born blind who was healed by Jesus - had an experience no-one could take from him, even in the teeth of strong opposition and questioning from the religious elite of the day. It seems relevant. Again, this is a way I think God is revealed, through narrative and drama, not just philosophical or scientific speculation.
Think about what's going on when you fall in love, or read an epic like Lord of the Rings - examples of something like the kind of suspension of intellectual scepticism, and openness and vulnerability of heart and imagination that are involved in faith in God.
No, I haven't been on acid. I'm just a bit more lucid in the morning.'
Friday, 29 February 2008
Insight from a volcano
Recently I've watched a couple of BBC series on large scale natural and geological phenomenon: 'Earth: the power of the planet' and 'Ten things you didn't know about...(tsunamis, earthquakes, avalanches). I love learning about the natural world and science; I'm a sucker for 'Life in Cold Blood', occasionally 'Horizon', and another excellent recent one, 'Atom'. And not surprisingly in the context of recent blog discussion, I find myself constantly reflecting on how religious faith, including my own, meshes with the captivating fields of knowledge these kinds of programmes open up.
It was a scene from the volcano episode of 'Power of the planet' the other day that crystallised an insight that had been simmering for some time. The presenter, Dr Iain Stuart - a congenial Scotsman - was discussing the volcanic activity that sustained and gave birth to Iceland. A scene of him contentedly soaking with locals in a warm geyser pool gave way to a computer-generated model of the extraordinary structure which lies beneath the island. Shooting up from the earth's core is a colossal funnel of lava, like a giant molten tree trunk; and it is of course the point where this plume hits the surface of the ocean that has produced - well, Iceland.
Now this is of course basic geology which anyone with a background in the subject would probably be quite familiar with. But for someone without such prior learning, the image was spell-binding - as indeed have been many images, facts and figures in the whole series. I've always had a hunger for knowledge about the natural world, and contrary to one popular stereotype, have never found my religious faith instilling any kind of fear or reluctance to glean more. In fact, the growing inner freedom of spirit faith nurtures seems if anything to sharpen this hunger. While it is pleasant enough to view pretty pictures of Iceland's landscape, I am intrigued by the bigger picture, the inner workings, what lies under the surface.
And I try to bring the same exploratory approach to faith. I'm struck by the parallels between religious and scientific knowledge. In both cases, full-blooded appreciation is only gained through a questing spirit that is prepared to 'get under the skin' of what is apparent, to dig deep for understanding. No great progress in science would have been possible without this drive to think outside the box, push past preconceptions and conceive physical reality in fresh ways. And no progress can be made in grasping and savouring spiritual realities without a similar attitude and approach. And it seems that one of the starting points, as Rob pointed out, is being prepared to take seriously the fact that there are different ways of gleaning knowledge, of which the scientific method is only one. A grade one class in epistemology would I reckon tell you that. 'Oranges are not the only fruit' as Jeanettte Winterson observed in a very different context. To quote from the opening of Chapter 6 of 'Science and its limits', (The Limitations of Science: What Can It Not Tell Us): '... if knowledge is restricted to scientific knowledge, we will thus be sheltering ourselves and our beliefs from the relevant portions of reality' p97. Sobering stuff - and I can't deny being curious to know what my atheist friends make of it.
Finally: it's been one heck of a weather day. Scotland's been through the washing machine. 'Heather the weather' must have been waxing lyrical.
It was a scene from the volcano episode of 'Power of the planet' the other day that crystallised an insight that had been simmering for some time. The presenter, Dr Iain Stuart - a congenial Scotsman - was discussing the volcanic activity that sustained and gave birth to Iceland. A scene of him contentedly soaking with locals in a warm geyser pool gave way to a computer-generated model of the extraordinary structure which lies beneath the island. Shooting up from the earth's core is a colossal funnel of lava, like a giant molten tree trunk; and it is of course the point where this plume hits the surface of the ocean that has produced - well, Iceland.
Now this is of course basic geology which anyone with a background in the subject would probably be quite familiar with. But for someone without such prior learning, the image was spell-binding - as indeed have been many images, facts and figures in the whole series. I've always had a hunger for knowledge about the natural world, and contrary to one popular stereotype, have never found my religious faith instilling any kind of fear or reluctance to glean more. In fact, the growing inner freedom of spirit faith nurtures seems if anything to sharpen this hunger. While it is pleasant enough to view pretty pictures of Iceland's landscape, I am intrigued by the bigger picture, the inner workings, what lies under the surface.
And I try to bring the same exploratory approach to faith. I'm struck by the parallels between religious and scientific knowledge. In both cases, full-blooded appreciation is only gained through a questing spirit that is prepared to 'get under the skin' of what is apparent, to dig deep for understanding. No great progress in science would have been possible without this drive to think outside the box, push past preconceptions and conceive physical reality in fresh ways. And no progress can be made in grasping and savouring spiritual realities without a similar attitude and approach. And it seems that one of the starting points, as Rob pointed out, is being prepared to take seriously the fact that there are different ways of gleaning knowledge, of which the scientific method is only one. A grade one class in epistemology would I reckon tell you that. 'Oranges are not the only fruit' as Jeanettte Winterson observed in a very different context. To quote from the opening of Chapter 6 of 'Science and its limits', (The Limitations of Science: What Can It Not Tell Us): '... if knowledge is restricted to scientific knowledge, we will thus be sheltering ourselves and our beliefs from the relevant portions of reality' p97. Sobering stuff - and I can't deny being curious to know what my atheist friends make of it.
Finally: it's been one heck of a weather day. Scotland's been through the washing machine. 'Heather the weather' must have been waxing lyrical.
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Making airwaves
Last Wednesday I was interviewed and accepted for a radio producer post with Whistling Frog Productions in Bradford, a UK-based ministry of HCJB Global, which has media and healthcare ministries around the world. Exciting news, so I look forward to moving to Bradford (yes, I know that sounds odd to some!), hopefully in a few weeks' time.
Meanwhile, I need to start building up a prayer and financial support base - in common with a number of Christian ministries, the post itself is not salaried - as well as start investigating part-time work opportunities down there, and in other practical ways get ready to go.
More soon...
Meanwhile, I need to start building up a prayer and financial support base - in common with a number of Christian ministries, the post itself is not salaried - as well as start investigating part-time work opportunities down there, and in other practical ways get ready to go.
More soon...
Monday, 11 February 2008
The atheists' take on science: a problem
There's nothing like a good book to expand knowledge, awareness and ways of looking at things. I've started reading 'Philosophy of Science', the original 1986 title of the book 'Science and its limits' by Del Ratzch. I'd recommended it to Jonathan on the Musings blog, see top right, and he posted a rather different take on it. It's an overview, 165pp long, and one of a series called 'Contours of Christian Philosophy'. That might turn off some readers before even opening it, which would be a shame, because core sections present a clear informative account of ways of understanding the nature, role and scope of science as they have developed over the centuries.
Chapter 1, Science: What is it?, outlines its basic aspects and presuppositions. The italicised words give a flavour: natural science, discipline, theoretical, natural explanations, empirical, objectivity, rational...
Chapter 2, The Traditional Conception of Science, outlines first the 'Baconian conception'. Next, rationality, sub-divided into prediction, covering-law model of explanation, hypothetico-deductive testing (in which concepts including proof, experiment, hypotheses, deduction and logic are summarised). Then the empirical element, and objectivity, where the role of the scientific community is briefly addressed. Followed by some initial implications.
It proceeds to examine 'Positivism: a Major School in the Traditional View', and its position on the empirical, rationality and objectivity. This is where, in light of the current debate with atheists, things start to get interesting. On the empirical, DR notes that British philosopher John Locke, was so impressed by the accomplishments of Newton, which he perceived as:
'having banned the nonempirical from science... that he thought that if restricting science to the purely empirical had proved to be the ultimate key to scientific knowledge (and who could doubt that?) then that restriction must be the key to other knowledge as well... the genesis of modern empiricism, the doctrine (note) that all concepts, ideas and substantive knowledge available to human beings must ultimately rest solely on experience - in particular, on sensory experience and observation. The implication of that doctrine (forcefully advocated by David Hume) was that any alleged idea or belief which did not have that empirical grounding was really empty and quite literally meaningless', p33.
When I read that, I thought heavens, this is starting to sound familiar.
I won't be spending much more blog time outlining and quoting another author's thoughts so extensively, but I've done so here in the hope of engaging my atheist readers in a level of reading and discussion we can all take seriously. Hopefully around a book like this, or of similar quality. DR goes on to outline the implications and decline of positivism, delineating the flaws that made it 'increasingly clear that the positivist outlook was bankrupt as a philosophy of science, and ultimately incoherent as well', p36. A brief look at the decline of the traditional view of science closes chapter 2. There are seven more chapters to go.
This isn't half as entertaining as reading in 'The God Delusion' about belief in God being comparable to belief in fairies, unicorns, an orbiting chocolate teapot and an imaginary friend called Binker. But golly, the science looks more serious.
Chapter 1, Science: What is it?, outlines its basic aspects and presuppositions. The italicised words give a flavour: natural science, discipline, theoretical, natural explanations, empirical, objectivity, rational...
Chapter 2, The Traditional Conception of Science, outlines first the 'Baconian conception'. Next, rationality, sub-divided into prediction, covering-law model of explanation, hypothetico-deductive testing (in which concepts including proof, experiment, hypotheses, deduction and logic are summarised). Then the empirical element, and objectivity, where the role of the scientific community is briefly addressed. Followed by some initial implications.
It proceeds to examine 'Positivism: a Major School in the Traditional View', and its position on the empirical, rationality and objectivity. This is where, in light of the current debate with atheists, things start to get interesting. On the empirical, DR notes that British philosopher John Locke, was so impressed by the accomplishments of Newton, which he perceived as:
'having banned the nonempirical from science... that he thought that if restricting science to the purely empirical had proved to be the ultimate key to scientific knowledge (and who could doubt that?) then that restriction must be the key to other knowledge as well... the genesis of modern empiricism, the doctrine (note) that all concepts, ideas and substantive knowledge available to human beings must ultimately rest solely on experience - in particular, on sensory experience and observation. The implication of that doctrine (forcefully advocated by David Hume) was that any alleged idea or belief which did not have that empirical grounding was really empty and quite literally meaningless', p33.
When I read that, I thought heavens, this is starting to sound familiar.
I won't be spending much more blog time outlining and quoting another author's thoughts so extensively, but I've done so here in the hope of engaging my atheist readers in a level of reading and discussion we can all take seriously. Hopefully around a book like this, or of similar quality. DR goes on to outline the implications and decline of positivism, delineating the flaws that made it 'increasingly clear that the positivist outlook was bankrupt as a philosophy of science, and ultimately incoherent as well', p36. A brief look at the decline of the traditional view of science closes chapter 2. There are seven more chapters to go.
This isn't half as entertaining as reading in 'The God Delusion' about belief in God being comparable to belief in fairies, unicorns, an orbiting chocolate teapot and an imaginary friend called Binker. But golly, the science looks more serious.
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