Proposal for a new word: Implanation

The air is full of politicians offering implanations. They call for 'more responsible lending' - sorry, where's this irresponsible lending happening today??? - and contend that (if already in power) we would have avoided problems if only we had followed their principles; or else (if they are not presently in power) their insight would have prevented the crash.

So my proposal is this:

Implanation

1. The act of identifying in current events vindication for past or present political policies, programmes or principles.
2. An implausible logical sequence that fully exonerates the speaker

I encourage you to try this for size in conversation.

See you in the OED appendix.

Making an Impact

I am packed and compact, as moment melts to moment
For I live in minus-time. I own the countdown,
Know its cause, anticipate its result,
Even exult in the confident uncertainty 
Of acceleration.

Yours is the aim, yours the goal, yours the eye:
What shall I say? That trust is past or promise lost?
By no means. I expect and do not fear
To be flung and tumbled free into such air.
But I do fear the recoil.

Social media: being and doing church in public

Here's a great article, 8 Questions to Ask Your "Social Media Expert"

Now, I've already commented about a year ago in response to a negative view of blogging amongst churchy types.  Funnily enough, I'm more hopeful that the same fear response won't be repeated in the social media space.

Why am I more hopeful? Five very good reasons.

1. Contemporary social media is so alien to lots of people, but also so natural to lots of others, that it's becoming just another one of those things like cricket, beer and dyed hair - some do, some don't, where's the beef?
   
2. Churches are pretty much by definition dispersed communities that struggle with issues of internal communication. Social media can - and increasingly does - fill that gap beautifully. Square peg, square hole.
3. At least one Bishop is active on twitter - hallelujah! [And if you want to follow me and dip just a single toe into twitdom, sign up and follow alantwilson]
4. "In Christ" is a great place to be: it's my experience that relationships between Christians tend to form faster, go deeper and mix wider than in any other context. But. The coin has a flip-side - it's easy not to notice that churchy friendships have squeezed out the other ones. Good news! Social networks are great places to chat with anyone and everyone, especially if you're willing to put up with a bit of rib-poking about being so unhip as to think Jesus is da man ;)
5. Social media can be a truly humanising place, where people can flourish through distinctiveness, relationship and communication, whoever, wherever and however they are. It's a C21 trinitarian story. No, really.

So what's the connection with the article? 

Well, one of the ways that people misunderstand what it is to be church is the horrendous norm of niceness.

That's why we don't know how to say, or how to hear, "I don't think you know what you're talking about." It's a place where all too often people who want to claim expertise often can and do exactly that.

So in spite of being optimistic, a nagging voice says: no. The church is in the business of communication, and is royally bad at it in public media at every level. If we let the wannabe experts be the opinion formers in the social media space, God help us.

Atheist bus revisited

Thanks to Bishop Alan for the link!

The University of Cambridge and the Diocese of Ely are 800 years old

On the first Saturday of Lent Term there was a ringing of bells and a light show to mark the start of the 800th anniversary celebrations

Actually we went to an event (a lecture on the 'Horrible Science of Cambridge')  before Christmas that was also the start. Well, it's a big occasion, why not start a few times...

More photos are here and there's a video to give you more of a feel of what it was like here, then there's University stuff here and Diocese of Ely stuff (founded at the same time) here.

Cashing in the Chips

Louis has been Chip in the (brilliant!) touring production of the Disney musical Beauty and the Beast at the Corn Exchange, Cambridge. He's one of four rotating the part, and performed eight times including the opening night.

It's quite something watching your child in anything, but amazing in such a spectacular production. He turns up at a few pivotal moments. If you're my friend on Facebook you'll find more pix here.

Requiescat in pace Mark Autherson

Remembrance Day

The bell rings for remembrance. We obey
Its call: we reach with hands of faith to touch
Lost fingers of the fallen so they may
Receive this next instalment from the much

We owe to those who went ahead, whose blood
Was spent for good, for ill, for its whole worth.
Now frayed and faded images in wood
Are bone-by-bone mute witness under earth.

Mark’s blood betrayed him. His remembrance day
Is poppy-studded, wears its suit ill-pressed,
Finds tears choke words of love we long to say –
Until deep laughter helps recall him best.

Under that plain cross on light-dappled wall
We hear his song: “God is my all and all.”

For Mark Autherson, 1971-2008

Dreaming Spires

Being in theological college provokes all kinds of questions.

What’s it for? Why do you study for two (or one, or three, or four, or seven) years?

One question I have as a Church of England ordinand is: why, when these days most of us enter training with a significant amount of post-school ‘life experience’ (not my phrase, and yes, that mainly means we’re oldies), is the philosophy to treat this as at best an occasional inconvenience, at worst a positive barrier to effective ministerial formation. I do not mean this question flippantly, and certainly not disrespectfully.

One part of the answer is probably crude economics. It’s cheapest to train a relatively undifferentiated group in a relatively undifferentiated way. And I marvel, in the case of the college I know best, how far the five loaves and two fish go towards feeding us all; yet the biblical parallel fails, as there are no crumbs left over.

But this is crude economics. To the extent that we comply in suppressing rather than expressing the knowledge, skills and experience of whatever portion of life preceded training – to precisely that extent we are buying into a questionable model of priests (presbyters if you prefer, same root word) as not merely specially set aside for service, but as specially set aside from life.

With the people I know best here, I know some of their story and some of their talents, of course. But I also see those stories being condensed – in them and in me – into another volume. And if this were not true at least in part, something would be wrong, because we must learn to be different from that past self and to do differently. And yet...

We have offered our whole selves. I must learn to say simply, with Jo recalling her sacrificial offering of hair,

“I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that. I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short rough ends of my head. It almost seemed as if I’d an arm or leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I’ll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by, for a crop is so comfortable I don’t think I shall ever have a mane again.”

And then,

“It’s only the vain part of me that goes and cries in this silly way.”

Being a Guerrilla Christian

It's a work in progress. With hindsight, in spite of every good intention last year, far too much of my time and attention went into the lovely but limited circle of the theological community. My new (academic) year's resolution has been to make sure that spare energy - and most especially that which I'm tempted to devote to attempts to reform things here at Ridley - goes outwards.

So here are some of the things I am determined not to put (much!) time, effort or brainpower towards:

1. The antediluvian administrative structure for students, which guarantees a lack of teamwork on community responsibilities, ensures inequality in the division of labour and creates that special combination of inefficiency and near-effectiveness that prevents the resource that is our joint time and effort being available to respond to need and opportunity


2. The Common Room's indifference to the administrative burden and intensified financial hardship (to the college) of a new payment regime for students


3. Our shared failure to take an interest in the student world beyond our own Victorian walled garden, whether in theological or general academe, and learn from their experience and practice

That list-making needs, then, to be the end of my musing on these three topics. The first and best of what's freed by this resolution needs to go to my family, who inevitably bear the lion's share of the burden of our change of circumstances as a result of a call to ministry. And the next in line is The Outside World.

The first flowering of this latter is being put up as the 'older and wiser' head on a panel for a 'grill a Christian' evening. I can guarantee 50% achievement on this measure, at least. And I am of an age when making a complete fool of myself is absolutely no deterrent, so as far as I can see the worst that can happen is that someone asks a clever question to which all I can answer is 'wibble,' while the upside is if someone can argue me out of faith I can give up this life of giving up and go back to consultancy, holidays and money.

If you have a praying disposition and are reading this on the day, do keep me in mind this evening. It would be great not to be the scaffolding that spoils someone's view of Jesus.

Think, people!

Liquidity

For us here in Britain, the banking system as most of us have known it through our lives has come to an end.  From today, our taxes will support our loans, and the increasing inflation that will come with increased public sector debt will be the legacy of the banking bubble.

You meet this scenario quite early on in maths, where instinct and 'gut feel' are tested to destruction.

For instance, common sense says if you take a punt on the toss of a coin, head or tales, then if you lose just double your bet, however many times it takes.

And if you have unlimited resources, and unlimited time, and the person you're betting with gives fair odds, and no limit to stakes, your expectation is to come out even. But...

But at every loss, your exposure increases.  In every real game, whether in a casino or in commercial banking, the odds are not fair.  And in every transaction, the strongest party calls the shots.

At some point in time, if I understand it correctly, 'real' banking activity became smaller than  the casino.  For instance, derivatives (bets on share price movements) became more significant than shares.  On the surface everything continued as normal, but vast profits in some places must imply vast losses elsewhere, and the whole thing turned out to be a latter day South Sea bubble, where the vast losses turn out to be everywhere.

Banks are not the same "yesterday, today and forever."  My immediate future and yours will be adversely affected by this, one way or another.  We had better look for security other than in the securities market, for peace elsewhere than our pensions, for liquidity in the one moving over the face of the waters and not the one drowning in them.

A sign of the times? (or, "Recession bites")

Well, if there was any doubt we're heading into a recession...

Seconds out, round two

Here I am, back in harness for my second and final year of pre-ordination training: lots of new faces, lots of familiar ones, a sense of anticipation.  For this year's leavers, there's a mood change. Some have curacies sorted out near to where they were sent from, some in other places, the rest are at various stages of the search.

There's been some freshening up, lots of new paint, lots of old furniture. Which is a bit like us, as we are sent out, fresh paint ready to be slapped on somewhere.

And - of course - there are rapidly filling diaries and rotas, there are bills and kitties: this is the Church, after all.

More than one conversation has shown me that many of us are already experiencing that sense that what's a few months ahead is more real than this immediate future.  I don't want to lose touch with that sense of destination, or rather of that sense of the next station in this journey; but nor do I want to lose out on the present, on these precious, privileged months of close fellowship, on the opportunities there may be to serve in this city.

It's Autumn, and we are leaves reddening for the coming fall.  In the natural way of things, the next step is a drying to dust or a dampening to mould. It takes the eyes of faith to see the possibility of ingrafting to another tree, leading to new growth and a new sharing of life.

Colliding hadrons, Batman!

So, the Large Hadron Collider at CERN has its first beam completing the 27km circuit, soon the opposing beam will be going the other way and collisions will start. This may be the end of the world, or not - probably not, but I'm hardly qualified to pass judgement. With a bit of luck, assorted wise heads have looked at this and decided the risk is infinitesimal.

The popular reaction seems to be wonder at the majesty of science, rather little comment on the two incontrovertible points on the scientific enterprise that this shows:
The state of physics and of its mathematical underpinnings in particular is weak enough that it's necessary to build this quantum rollercoaster

The problem of two incompatible scientific theories, each by definition practically effective in its home territory yet provably incorrect, is a big head-scratcher for scientists

I regard myself very much as a scientist by instinct. My first degree was Maths at Oxford, and I try and keep in touch at least with pop science. I don't claim great expertise in any field of science, but nor do I find myself struggling with basic concepts in any field that has introductory literature.

So it's frustrating, to say the least, to find that when it comes to God, some people seem to want to apply a standard of proof far beyond that applied to science before giving the big ideas of faith credence. I'm not especially thinking about Richard Dawkins' wild venturings in this area - he has so far and so furiously overstated his case that he is not seen as a serious commentator in the area of theology (or atheology) any more than I am in respect of the putative Higgs Boson. But a de-frothed version of his outlook is increasingly the norm in certain areas.

So, just for a moment would you please suspend your disbelief about belief?

Science is at least as uncertain as theology.

Allow me to prove that for you.

First, let's be clear what 'science' is. The definition must include:

1. Description - an area of science addresses a topic that must be clearly and objectively identified
2. Observation - the topic must be capable of observation, even if only indirectly
3. Prediction - the scientific enterprise is to make successful predictions
4. Comparison - it must be possible to compare results of experiment and theory and reach conclusion about the relative success of different ideas
5. Duplicability - experiments must be capable of independent repetition and the scientific method requires consistency

Description is problematic. As any fule no, there's a world of difference between saying 'banana' and defining one with precision. As science has progressed, there is both increasing scope and refinement, but also increasing co-dependence and circularity of definition.

Observation is problematic. Much measurement is indirect - the LHC is not really expecting to see a Higgs Boson but traces of its predicted decay products; refined measurements are rarely direct and generally bounded in accuracy (for instance Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle demonstrates why at the level of the very tiny it's not possible to know both where something is and where it's travelling). Probability comes in at every level.

Prediction is troublesome in some fields, for instance in some areas of biology it's impossible to examine most theories except in retrospect - you can't simulate a thousand or a million years in the life of marsupial mammals.

Comparison has severe logical difficulties. Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem puts serious limits on logic. There are true things that can't be proved, false things that can't be disproved. That's not conjecture or handwaving, it's proveable mathematical fact.

Duplicability is also limiting for all sorts of reasons, practical (we can't have another Big Bang), financial (how many particle accelerators or Hubble Telescopes will there be?) and so on.

Overall, science is great, and we need to carry on investing. But that's in a context where progress relies on an element of trust, and where most of the money invested will prove to have been wasted - outweighed, we hope, by the benefits of the tiny proportion of successes.

But we will never be able to predict the moment that the next drop will fall from a dripping tap.

Never, ever.

So please don't tell me that science gives a complete view of reality. It doesn't. It can't. It won't.

Christian theology doesn't either. My contention is that - ultimately - it will. What we see today through a scanning electron microscope subject to revision, we will come to experience directly for ourselves.

A third remove...

It's been a great holiday.  This picture isn't the best image from our time, but it sums up the sense of it all: light and dark, sun and rain.

There's a rainbow, of course, but far and faint.

Church-wise, we found a warm welcome at the Church of Ireland in the South, and the Presbyterian Church (with dear friends) in the North.  The weather's been mixed - no surprise! - but we've already had a beach holiday so we came for peace and beauty, and found both.

Curacies are now upmost in our minds.  It's an interesting process, one it's probably better not to think about too much until you're in the thick of it.  So we're waiting for the wind that sweeps us up and takes us... where?

Buoys and Gulls, Come Out To Play

More holiday snaps

Holiday fun

More to follow...

Mission is possible

Four of us have been on mission in Ely Cathedral this week. Not 'a mission' but part of the ongoing mission, working as day chaplains and talking to anyone and everyone who ventures in or near the building.

Ely is a small city with a big cathedral, thanks to the Saxon Princess Etheldreda, who founded a double monastery (for men and women) in the 7th century. It became a place of pilgrimage, leading to the building of a great Norman Abbey with Etheldreda's shrine, and the establishment of the cathedral and its diocese.

The cathedral church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity suffered a setback in the 1300s when one of its towers collapsed, but this led to a great symbol of resurrection with the building of the Octagon and its lantern that draws a quarter of a million visitors a year to the former swampy island.

The Victorians carried out major refurbishments, opening the inside of the building into one glorious sweep, installing the beautiful stained glass windows and building a beamed and painted roof that draws gasps from all but the fussiest (and most historically naive!) visitors.

More recently, refurbishments to mark the millenium included restoration of the Lady Chapel, a new enclosed processional walkway and a range of sculptures around the building. Well over a thousand years of praise and prayer are in the foundations of this church (buildings and people).

So much for the history. The present is the 'nerve centre' of Ely diocese, which includes Cambridge and Huntingdon alongside the many fenland towns and villages. Until a couple of days ago, that was my diocese: my 'sending church' is a Cambridge church, Holy Trinity, so I came to train as an Ely ordinand.

Ely isn't exactly short of ordinands, and I now know I'm not one of the privileged few who will remain but one of the large majority who are 'exported' - so my hunt for a curacy somewhere starts here. Or it will when we're past the grieving stage. Meanwhile, back to the week of mission.
Four of us - Jamie, Nick and Stefan and myself - donned cassocks and badges and met between us lots and lots of people. Our job in a nutshell was to offer prayer to and for all who felt in need, and to help all our visitors to relate the buildings and their history, Jesus whose story is told by those buildings, their fixtures and the daily pattern of services, and their own life and story. Not in a ramming-religion-down-your-throat kind of way, just being available, friendly and taking a few risks. It's genuinely a privilege to meet so many people from so many places near and far.

Looking up in the octagon there's a 14th century statue of the crucified and risen Christ, showing (assisted with Victorian paint and beams from every age in between) one hand raised in blessing and displaying the wounds that mark the brokenness he received from us and took into the very heart of God for us.

His blessing offered freely and his voluntary suffering are always the beginning of the Gospel. For our own issues we receive not always relief, not even an explanation, but always that loving, wounded hand reaching out to take ours.

Wintershall Life of Christ 2008