15.03.25

The End of Civilization?

When I was little, we were all taught the same Rules of the Sandpit: Play nicely, Be kind, Don’t snatch, Don’t hit each other, Share the toys with the other children, Wait your turn, Keep your feet to yourself, Say ‘Please’ and ‘Thankyou’, Remember to flush, Wash your hands, and so on.

Nobody ever explained these rules or thought they needed to be justified. We just accepted that they were. And if anyone was out of line, there would be swift parental intervention, or the summary wrath of Mrs Payne the nursery teacher.

In the transition to adulthood, the Rules of the Sandpit of course get modified; there is no longer an adult referee to adjudicate on acceptable behaviour, and so we learn to Watch your own back, Keep your head down, Don’t get mad, get even, and so on. But the bedrock of Play Nicely was still the starting point.

So what happens when we suddenly wake up to discover that the world’s most powerful people don’t care two hoots for cooperation, tolerance, equality, fairness, balance or indeed for the rule of law itself; when in fact they see such qualities as weaknesses? What happens when the only maxim that counts in the new world order is ‘Might is Right’?

At Minster Primary School the Ethos Committee of the Governing Body has recently been considering the school’s vision and values, which for several years now have been summarised as ‘Respect, Friendship and Perseverance’. And we are starting to realise that values such as these don’t come out of nowhere. Why should ‘Respect, Friendship and Perseverance’ be more desirable or true than ‘Power, Greed and Selfishness’?

In the same way, we are beginning to understand that the international order of the last 75 years or so has been based on assumptions about the importance of the rule of law, self-determination, cooperation on global issues, and the desirability of peace. But who says that these form a better basis for international relations than authoritarianism, nationalism, imperialism and force of arms? When the leader of the world’s most powerful nation talks casually about annexing Canada or using military force to take over Greenland, on what basis can he be challenged?

The Rules of the Sandpit are maybe not so self-evidently right as we have assumed, either for children or adults. But they do have a basis: not in human reason or democratic majority, but in the nature of God.

Because we are made in the image of God, every human life matters, regardless of age, productivity, colour, class, nationality, gender, sexual identity, health, disability, intelligence or background. This is unconditional and non-negotiable, because to be made in the image of God is to be sacred, and is the most fundamental thing we can say about ourselves. It is a truth revealed not only in the Bible, but in the incarnation of the Son of God. If God can become human, then human nature must be a worthy vehicle for the divine.

What is more, since the Son of God became the Son of Mary, dying and rising to take away the sins of the whole world, we are all part of the same family. We are all children of God, dependent upon his grace, so that St Paul can declare that in Christ ‘there is no longer Jew nor Greek, slave or free, male and female; for all are one in Christ Jesus’.

From the Christian gospel all our 21^st century assumptions about equality, diversity and inclusion flow. The church has been slow to embrace the implications, but she is the guardian of a message which provides the basis for affirming that every life is of equal and eternal value.

So successful has Christianity been in promoting this project that most people don’t even realise that they have Christianity to thank for it. We have assumed that the Rules of the Sandpit are obvious and undeniable, and don’t need any appeal to God for justification: until now, when they suddenly look very shaky.

As an impertinent youth I once asked my father, who served in the Royal Artillery throughout the Second World War, what he had learned from the experience. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, ‘The veneer of civilization is very thin’.

It feels in these times as though we are discovering again that shared values cannot be taken for granted, that if we believe in freedom and justice and equality we cannot assume they will look after themselves, and that the veneer of civilization is much thinner than we ever imagined.

In such times it might be good to re-evaluate the assumption of many people that Christianity is only relevant to those who are religiously inclined, or is only a source of problems. It is in fact  the wellspring of many of those values of liberal democracy that we used to take for granted; and faith in God, properly understood, is what ultimately guarantees our humanity. It may be that we still need God if the Rules of the Sandpit are to survive.

Jonathan Baker

01.03.25

Lord, teach us to pray – Part II

A few weeks ago I wrote a Blog about the nature of prayer which suggested that prayer should not begin with asking God for stuff. The first focus in prayer should be on paying attention to God so that our wills can become attuned to his. However, I did half promise to write a further Blog about Intercessory prayer – what happens when we do ask God for stuff?

There is no getting away from the fact that much of Jesus’ teaching about prayer assumes that we ask and God answers. ‘Everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened’ (Matthew 7:8). Parables about a householder waking up his neighbour in order to borrow bread, about a mean parent giving his child a snake when an egg was asked for, and about a widow who got justice simply because she badgered the judge beyond endurance all make the same point: that if even reluctant, unco-operative human beings eventually grant requests, then how much more does God delight to answer prayer willingly.

The main objections to this kind of prayer are, firstly, that it seems to make God’s will secondary to our own; and secondly, that it clearly isn’t true that God grants whatever we ask for. So what are we to make of Jesus’ teaching to pray ‘Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven’ and ‘Give us today our daily bread’?

At least three possibilities come to mind. The first is that intercessory prayer deepens our trust in God. When we turn to him with our simplest and most basic needs, we are drawn closer to him. We are less likely to think of ourselves as autonomous, independent, self-sufficent mini-gods who have no need of our Creator. We shall be reminded that in reality little that goes on in the world is under our control. Intercessory prayer expresses trust and closeness to God when life is untidy.

The second possibility is that intercessory prayer is a way of making room for God in the whole of life. Whether we are praying for peace in Ukraine or for a parking space at the hospital, we are developing a habit of expecting God to be interested in every aspect of life, and not just those parts which can be labelled ‘religious’, ‘mystical’, or ‘spiritual’. If we do not invite God to be involved in the affairs of the world he will be bypassed in our thinking altogether. Intercessory prayer is therefore important if faith is not to be privatised and God banished from the secular realm. In this sense, prayer for God’s kingdom to come may have a social or even political dimension.

The third reason for thinking that intercessory prayer has value is that, in Archbishop Stephen’s phrase, it is ‘an education in desire’. In the Lord’s Prayer especially, we are aligning ourselves with God’s will, so that when we pray ‘Your kingdom come’ we are learning to long  for compassion, mercy, peace and justice to be triumphant. We pray ‘Your kingdom come’, not ‘My kingdom come’. We are making God’s priorities our own. As we pray for others, so we grow in empathy and awareness of their needs. Those who are being prayed for usually feel supported and held in solidarity, even if they are not believers themselves.

The question of how God answers our prayers will always be a mystery; to penetrate that we would need to be able to see things from an eternal perspective, which in this world of course is impossible. I am reminded of the words of Archbishop William Temple who said simply that ‘when I pray, coincidences happen; and when I don’t, they don’t’. In the same way, the child who asks her father for bread can’t explain why other children are hungry, or why other fathers may not provide bread; but that wont stop her from asking for bread herself.

In a recent letter to the Times, a correspondent recalled how ‘Years ago, I told my Sunday school teacher that I was giving up saying my prayers every night as they always went unanswered. She patted me gently on the head and said: “No” is an answer’. In this, as in so much of the Christian life, there is a discipline of trusting that the practice is worthwhile even when the immediate payoff isn’t obvious.

At the very least, intercessory prayer prepares us to live as citizens of God’s kingdom by whetting our appetite for it and by getting us to seek it. But if Jesus’ teaching is to be trusted, prayer makes us partners with God and shapes the life of the world in ways we cannot imagine.

We shall be exploring these and other questions in this year’s Lent Course on the Lord’s Prayer. It starts on Wednesday 12 March at 19.30 in the Parish Hall and runs weekly at the same time until Wednesday 9 April. Over those five weeks we shall open up the different dimensions of the prayer which Jesus taught his disciples, and see how it offers a pattern for all of us at all times; do join us if you can.

Jonathan Baker

15.02.25

Rations for the Journey

We’re not quite there yet, but in a couple of weeks we shall be approaching Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

Lent is usually understood as a time of discipline and reflection for the whole Church leading up to the Easter celebration. However, it originated as a season of penitence and preparation for new Christians before their baptism at Easter.

That question remains: if you are a new Christian, trying to navigate the implications of a new faith potentially shaping the whole of life, where do you start? What are the essentials? And if you are an older Christian, trying to recover your first love, what should you return to?

Those who have recently tumbled out of an Alpha Course, having been given a glimpse of something rich and life transforming, may find themselves wondering what happens next. There is the Bible, but how are you supposed to read it? There is Sunday worship, but what is actually going on with bread and wine, Collects and Intercessions, Confessions and Dismissals? Then there is the world, with all its change and complexity: how are Christians supposed to navigate the lure of social media, the politics of exclusion, and the social needs all around us?

From the earliest days of the Church there has been a recognition that there are several core texts which every Christian needs to have under their belt.

To help us see the broad shape of the Bible, and to discern the wood out of the trees, there is first of all the Apostles’ Creed: a relatively short summary of Christian belief which distils the Bible’s story of God and his world. It is thought that the Creed was originally devised expressly for candidates for baptism, so it is a good starting point.

I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried;
he descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again;
he ascended into heaven,
he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
and he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.
Amen.

This Creed speaks of God’s triune nature, but is centred on the real historical person of Jesus as the one who reveals God to us.

To help us to pray, there is the Lord’s Prayer, which Jesus offered when his first disciples came to him and said, “Lord, teach us to pray”.

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.
For the kingdom, the power,
and the glory are yours
now and for ever.
Amen.

It’s not a prayer to be said by rote, without understanding, but it equips us to draw near to God in trust, to orientate ourselves by first seeking his will, and then to address the needs of the world and of ourselves, and our relationships with God and with one another.

The Lord’s Prayer and Apostles’ Creed are foundational, equipping us to relate to God and to have some idea about who this God is whom we seek.

To help us to live, there are the Ten Commandments – or even better, the Summary of the Law offered by Jesus in answer to the question “Which is the greatest commandment?”:

‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ’You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’

The law of love demands that we take the path of including others, as God does,  rather than trying to limit our obligations to the restricted circle of family or those like us.

And to give us a vision of those qualities which make a person fully alive, there are the Beatitudes:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are those who suffer persecution for righteousness’ sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

It’s a somewhat counterintuitive description of Christian character, at odds with the goals most people set themselves, but offering a slantwise route to real happiness.

Our Lent Course this year, to be held on Wednesday evenings at 7.30pm in the Parish Hall, will focus on just one of these: the Lord’s Prayer. But all four texts are basic, and however long we have counted ourselves Christian they are always worth coming back to.

In the early Church, right up until relatively recent times, it was expected of baptismal candidates that they would commit these four texts to memory so that they could draw upon them at all times and in all circumstances. Perhaps that could be our Lent challenge this year: to learn, or re-learn, the Apostles Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the Summary of the Law and the Beatitudes. Think of it as a way of stocking our mental knapsack with the core rations we need for our spiritual journey – rations which, once in place, will never run out.

Jonathan Baker

01.02.25

Lord, Teach Us To Pray

We have just finished a Week of Prayer for the Minster’s draft Vision Strategy, which has involved  praying for the whole range of the Minster’s ministry and mission. A wide cross section of folk took part in a variety of events, which was encouraging. But many expressed a lack of confidence in praying.

We speak of Beverley Minster as a place of prayer; our services are full of prayers, and we begin every day livestreaming Morning Prayer, so prayer has a very public profile. As a result we may assume that everyone knows how to pray, that we share an understanding of what happens when we pray, and that we are all engaging in prayer. But these assumptions may not be correct.

It occurs to me that the model of prayer held up most frequently is the offering of public intercessions during Sunday worship. This may unconsciously create a sense that the only valid prayer is when we are asking God to intervene in the world to change things, such as the war in Ukraine,  climate change, or the extent of poverty. Such prayers are carefully crafted and public. But they may also unwittingly create in the listener a sense that prayer is remote, a specialist activity, and that it’s either a kind of tool for fixing big problems, or only wishful thinking about subjects too big for me to influence myself.

Jesus’ teaching on prayer is rather different. When his disciples ask him to teach them how to pray, Jesus gives them the Lord’s Prayer. But our familiarity with the Lord’s Prayer may blind us to its richness.

For a start, notice that the Lord’s Prayer doesn’t begin by asking for things. It opens by addressing God as ‘Father’. This tells us that prayer is chiefly an expression of relationship; it’s not so much a tool for solving big problems as a way of getting to know God, of building intimacy with God, spending time with him, and learning to trust him. It may well be that the best prayers never get beyond the word ‘Father’.

That means prayer shouldn’t be rushed. When the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein was asked how philosophers should greet each other, he said, ‘Take your time’. The same could be said of entering prayer. Take your time. Slow down your breathing. Allow all the busyness and distractedness in your mind to settle. Focus: perhaps on a candle, a picture, or a word – such as ‘Father’. And place yourself, deliberately and consciously, in the presence of Jesus. Prayer is initially about developing a sense of attentiveness, allowing our consciousness to move away from ourselves in order to receive Christ, who is already waiting for us. A short phrase or even single word of Scripture can help us if we contemplate it, mull it over, chew it, listen to it and allow it to draw us away from our self-concern and into the presence of Christ.

Prayer is not a tool; or better, it is a kind of anti-tool, in which we allow God to use us for his purposes rather than the other way round. So often when we pray we are anxious, distracted, and full of our own preoccupations, and we expect God to fix everything for us. Usually, however, it is we ourselves who need to be fixed.

The writer Iris Murdoch once described looking out of a window in an anxious and resentful state of mind, brooding on some slight she had suffered, when suddenly she saw a hovering kestrel. ‘In a moment’, she writes, ‘everything is altered. The brooding self with its hurt and vanity has disappeared. There is nothing now but kestrel. And when I return to thinking of the other matter it seems less important.’ Iris Murdoch wasn’t consciously describing prayer when she wrote that; but if we read ‘kestrel’ as a place marker for God, we have a good description of prayer’s effect.

Learning attentiveness and self-forgetfulness is at the heart of prayer, and is the reason why so  many of us still find it difficult, even after a lifetime of practice. We tend to be so self-absorbed, and our self-sufficient hearts find the idea of being loved by God threatening. If love really is the most important thing, we fear that the self-forgetfulness of love may obliterate our very sense of who we are. To quote Iris Murdoch again: ‘Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real’.

Prayer and love are closely related, in that both have to do with cultivating intimacy. Prayer isn’t about technique, although some simple techniques may help; it’s more about giving ourselves a chance to notice that God is already present with us. As the monk Thomas Merton said, ‘The whole thing boils down to giving ourselves in prayer a chance to realise that we have what we seek. We don’t have to rush after it. It was there all the time, and if we give it time, it will make itself known to us.’

Out of our sense of being with God we may be guided to pray for others and even for the world: that is why the intercessions in worship come in the middle, after we have had a chance to enter the presence of God. Perhaps I can blog about intercession another time. But unless our prayer life grows from our relationship with the Father, and unless it is moved by a sense of the Spirit working within us, our prayers will feel like empty phrases in an empty room which is, to say the least, discouraging.

‘Be still, and know that I am God’. So says the Psalmist. Stillness isn’t something the modern world is very good at. But when we seek it, we begin to discover why it lies at the heart of the Christian life; and we begin to discover why people still speak of ‘knowing God’.

Jonathan Baker

18.1.25

Seeing the Wood for the Trees

This morning we held a ‘Welcome Meeting’ for folk who are new to the Minster, the idea being to offer an overview of the activities that go on, and the structures and governance that support them.

It was an encouraging meeting, not least because of the numbers attending – around 20 – which shows that there are a lot of new faces about. In case you missed out, we are aiming to run these sessions more frequently. The next one is scheduled for April 12 at 11am, so if you feel you are a newcomer and didn’t manage to get along today, you can hop on board next time.

It was also in some ways a challenging meeting, because the volume of activity and the complexity of the organisation makes it difficult to give a bird’s eye view without overloading people. There is a limit to how much information about Groups, Grants, and Gift Aid folk can take in, even before one gets into the differences between the Old Fund and Two Churches One Town, or between the Enterprise and the Visitor Committees. But a group of staff and clergy had a go at conveying what we think the Minster can offer, and no one walked out.

The many limbs of the Minster can make it sometimes difficult even for old hands to work out who is responsible for what, how decisions get made, and how different parts of the Minster community work together and are accountable to each other.

There isn’t an easy solution to that problem. However, there is a new document that may help each of us to reflect on how the area in which we may individually be most interested and invested relates to the wider Minster family. This is the latest iteration of the Minster’s Vision Strategy, which to distinguish it from the first edition is now called ‘Minster 28’, because it should guide us in our shared journey over the next three years or so.

I’m aware that vision documents aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. All too often they can be too generalised and vague to shape the day to day mission and ministry of the church. I hope that hasn’t been our experience here; Minster 28 summarises what we have done over the last few years with the help of the previous version which was launched in 2021, and the list of initiatives is impressive. We have come a long way.

Minster 28 is currently a draft document. It was presented to the PCC by the Vision Steering Group at the last PCC meeting, with a view to giving it wide circulation over the next few weeks. We hope that it will stimulate prayer and discussion, and that it will be possible to adjust it in the light of these conversations before being finalised at the next PCC meeting in March.

Some of it is familiar. It is a slightly simpler document than before, and there is a sharper focus on the place of music in our mission, on youth and children’s work, on engaging with the wider community, and on growing together as followers of Jesus. It also has important things to say about how we develop as a healthy and sustainable organisation working with staff and volunteers.

My prayer is that Minster 28 will not only help us in deciding what to do next, but that it will give everyone in the Minster family a sense of the bigger picture. It is so easy to get caught up in our own particular area of service that we may not notice what others are doing; and if we do notice, we may not always understand why these other activities matter.

If one way of avoiding a silo mentality and too narrow an interest is to offer a vision that unites everyone, another way is to remember that a healthy church is outward-looking and not too absorbed in arranging everything for the benefit of existing members. We have to have a good vision in order to escape the black hole effect which sucks us into a church-centred view of the world!

In order to promote awareness of Minster 28 and to grow that sense of a shared mission where everyone feels their contribution is part of a greater whole, there will be a week of prayer for the Minster’s vision for mission starting on Sunday 26^th January. There will be events every day that week, with details to be published shortly online and in next week’s Notices. Do join in where you can, and let us know where you think Minster 28 can be improved!

Hard copies of Minster 28 can be picked up from the Minster or viewed on the website.

LINK TO VISION STRATEGY PAGE >

Jonathan Baker

4.1.25

Have a Manifest New Year

‘Manifest’ is the Cambridge Dictionary’s ‘Word of the Year 2024’. It is a word used increasingly online and by celebrities to mean you can make something happen simply by visualising it or wishing for it to happen. Singer Dua Lipa, Olympic sprinter Gabby Thomas and England striker Ollie Watkins all spoke of ‘manifesting’ their success in 2024. Apparently millions of people today are trying to ‘manifest’ health, wealth and success simply by wishing for it; that is, believing that by expressing their desire, they are making the outcome more likely.

I first became aware of this usage when it was used by my children who, as so often, take their parents’ education in hand. After initially lamenting the transformation of a sensible word’s meaning into pseudo-scientific nonsense (I had to restrain myself from re-imagining various folk tales in which the genie or fairy godmother grants ‘three manifestations’), I have come to realise that language changes all the time, and when it does, there is often something interesting going on.

The traditional meaning of the word, when used as a verb, conveys the sense of showing something by words and actions. So you might ‘manifest’ your displeasure when you scowl and shout and slam the door.

My interest in the word is piqued by the fact that at this time of year, the word ‘manifest’ traditionally crops up in connection with the Feast of the Epiphany on 6 January. This Festival celebrates the manifestation of the glory of God through Jesus Christ: firstly, through the star which guided the Wise Men to the Christ Child, revealing the Messiah to the Nations; secondly, through the manifestation of Jesus’ identity as the Son of God at his baptism; and thirdly, through the manifestation of his glory by turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana.

The word ‘epiphany’ means literally ‘a showing of the light’ in Greek. The word ‘manifest’ carries the same sense of ‘a disclosure of what is secret’, in Latin. In other words, in Christian usage the word ‘manifestation’ is often used as a synonym for ‘revelation’.

Christianity is a religion of revelation, in that it relies upon God to make himself manifest through the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Without any manifestation, God cannot be known.

All of this is a world away from the magical thinking that you can make something happen by picturing it in your mind. It is almost the opposite: it imposes my own revelation upon the world, instead of receiving it from beyond myself. So what’s going on?

The people who ‘manifest’ successful examination results, a bigger car or the outcome of elections are not tapping into anything outside of themselves. Instead, this meaning of ‘manifest’ expresses a sense of the self-contained individual. The only reality is your own sense of yourself. Each of us lives within our own bubble, and inside that bubble nothing exists which we do not choose and control. It is probably not a coincidence that the new usage of ‘manifest’ is being led by celebrities whose wealth, status and power gives them more basis than others for believing that their wishes can be fulfilled.

Psychologists are already starting to warn against the damaging aspects of ‘manifesting’ in its latest sense. The usage betrays a tendency towards the delusional, a mistrust of science, of mainstream media and of traditional institutions and other sources of authority, or even of objective reality. People who think they can ‘manifest’ healing from disease risk neglecting medical treatment. Those who go online expressing an interest in ‘manifesting’ risk attracting posts from every kind of conspiracy theory and misinformation site.

This all looks to me like a new expression of an old problem, namely the difficulty we have in trusting anything besides ourselves. Our individualistic culture is one in which we increasingly see everyone else’s role being to validate our own opinion, and we are suspicious of anyone or anything which might challenge the way we have constructed ourselves. When it comes to beliefs about the beginning or end of life, gender or sexuality, good or evil, we increasingly expect to be our own judge and jury, reluctant to concede any role at all to wider social attitudes or values.

Martin Luther, the Protestant Reformer, defined sin as ‘the heart curved in upon itself’. When we engage with reality by assuming that it will bend to our individual will simply because we express that will, we are starting to live out that definition in an extreme way.

Against this background, the old meaning of ‘manifest’ used in connection with the Epiphany still looks interesting. What if my goals, my future, my destiny or my purpose, depended less upon the expression of my own desires, and more upon my responding to the revelation of purpose not just for me but for the whole world? What if my happiness and fulfilment has less to do with the imposition of my own feeble and unreliable will, and more to do with seeking reconciliation, justice and peace with everyone else?

So if I end by wishing you a Happy New Year, may I clarify that it is only a wish and not a manifestation; after all, I know my limits.

Jonathan Baker