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Showing posts with label Festivals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Festivals. Show all posts
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Rev. Canon Dr. Giles Fraser on Christmas
The cringe at the heart of Christmas
Giles Fraser
December 12, 2010Christmas can be a bad time for those of us with an allergy to all that Jesus-is-my-friend theology.
CHRISTMAS can be a bad time for those of us with an allergy to all that Jesus-is-my-friend theology. As the angels sing, the eternal mystery pulsing through all things becomes a human being. Yes, this is orthodox Christianity. But what too many Christians take from this is theological permission to get terribly chummy with the divine. As God turns into Jesus, mystery can be replaced by sentiment, eternity forced to the scale of the domestic imagination. God becomes my best buddy. It's the cringe at the heart of Christmas.
In contrast, throughout the Hebrew scriptures God is inscrutable. He is found in the burning bush or speaks out of the cloud at the top of the mountain. At best, God is only glimpsed from the corner of one's eye, if at all. The second of the 10 commandments gives specific instruction that there cannot be an image of the invisible God. It is a way of suspecting any form of God that presents itself as too clear, definite or certain. And this is not just about visual representation. Any representation - philosophical, literary or poetic - that reckons it has God sussed deserves to be distrusted, smashed even. Iconoclasm is the way theology strikes back against the hubris of believers who think the question of God is quick and easy.
Perhaps this is a fancy way of saying that all good theological conversations should begin ''I do not know''. Yet today it is strident certainty that marks most public theological discourse. Believers who are sure of themselves and of what they mean by God slug it out with unbelievers who are equally sure. In this deeply uninteresting boo-hurrah, what is completely ignored by both tribes is that subtler and more complex approach to the big questions, in which the universe is experienced as the most extraordinary mystery.
To stare into the night sky and ponder why there is something rather than nothing, to experience awe at a child's birth, to want the world to be transformed, to seek forgiveness for your own failure and stupidity, to feel the need for silence, to suppose that love has to be at the heart of things - these experiences are not the preserve of the religious. In many such things, those of faith and those of none sit alongside each other as fellow travellers.
This week sees the start of Uncertain Minds, a series of conversations on agnosticism convened jointly by The Guardian and St Paul's Cathedral in London. It is an attempt to make space for a different, more open sort of discussion, one not dominated by a binary clash of certainties. There will be some on both sides who view all this as a traitorous collaboration with an ideological enemy. But that's ridiculous. The human search for meaning and truth needs many voices.
There is much, for instance, that belief has to learn from unbelief. The whole apophatic tradition in theology regards the search for God as being driven along by a recognition of what God is not. In this way, theology proceeds through a series of denials - God cannot be this, God cannot be that - thus stripping away falsehood and driving us deeper into the nature of reality. If Christians believe that God is truth, they must not be afraid of where the search for truth leads, however seemingly uncomfortable.
The reason so many contemporary Christians find this cloud of unknowing approach so peculiar is that they have overemphasised the immanent God/man of Christmas to the exclusion of the transcendent God of the universe. In downplaying God's sheer otherness, they have become overconfident that they know what God looks like.
Evangelical Christianity, with all its emphasis on Jesus as friend, risks domesticating the divine, pulling God too much within the dimensions of the human perspective. With this sort of Jesus at hand, God becomes just too easy.
Yes, of course, one can read the incarnation very differently. I would argue that the idea of God as a baby is one of the most disruptive theological suggestions ever made. After all, isn't God supposed to be omnipotent? Here, Jesus is a supreme form of denial - a denial of God as power. And this powerlessness can be as much intellectual as anything else. To be a Christian is not to have the answers. Sometimes it's just about living the questions.
GUARDIAN
Giles Fraser is canon chancellor of St Paul's Cathedral.
CHRISTMAS can be a bad time for those of us with an allergy to all that Jesus-is-my-friend theology. As the angels sing, the eternal mystery pulsing through all things becomes a human being. Yes, this is orthodox Christianity. But what too many Christians take from this is theological permission to get terribly chummy with the divine. As God turns into Jesus, mystery can be replaced by sentiment, eternity forced to the scale of the domestic imagination. God becomes my best buddy. It's the cringe at the heart of Christmas.
In contrast, throughout the Hebrew scriptures God is inscrutable. He is found in the burning bush or speaks out of the cloud at the top of the mountain. At best, God is only glimpsed from the corner of one's eye, if at all. The second of the 10 commandments gives specific instruction that there cannot be an image of the invisible God. It is a way of suspecting any form of God that presents itself as too clear, definite or certain. And this is not just about visual representation. Any representation - philosophical, literary or poetic - that reckons it has God sussed deserves to be distrusted, smashed even. Iconoclasm is the way theology strikes back against the hubris of believers who think the question of God is quick and easy.
Perhaps this is a fancy way of saying that all good theological conversations should begin ''I do not know''. Yet today it is strident certainty that marks most public theological discourse. Believers who are sure of themselves and of what they mean by God slug it out with unbelievers who are equally sure. In this deeply uninteresting boo-hurrah, what is completely ignored by both tribes is that subtler and more complex approach to the big questions, in which the universe is experienced as the most extraordinary mystery.
To stare into the night sky and ponder why there is something rather than nothing, to experience awe at a child's birth, to want the world to be transformed, to seek forgiveness for your own failure and stupidity, to feel the need for silence, to suppose that love has to be at the heart of things - these experiences are not the preserve of the religious. In many such things, those of faith and those of none sit alongside each other as fellow travellers.
This week sees the start of Uncertain Minds, a series of conversations on agnosticism convened jointly by The Guardian and St Paul's Cathedral in London. It is an attempt to make space for a different, more open sort of discussion, one not dominated by a binary clash of certainties. There will be some on both sides who view all this as a traitorous collaboration with an ideological enemy. But that's ridiculous. The human search for meaning and truth needs many voices.
There is much, for instance, that belief has to learn from unbelief. The whole apophatic tradition in theology regards the search for God as being driven along by a recognition of what God is not. In this way, theology proceeds through a series of denials - God cannot be this, God cannot be that - thus stripping away falsehood and driving us deeper into the nature of reality. If Christians believe that God is truth, they must not be afraid of where the search for truth leads, however seemingly uncomfortable.
The reason so many contemporary Christians find this cloud of unknowing approach so peculiar is that they have overemphasised the immanent God/man of Christmas to the exclusion of the transcendent God of the universe. In downplaying God's sheer otherness, they have become overconfident that they know what God looks like.
Evangelical Christianity, with all its emphasis on Jesus as friend, risks domesticating the divine, pulling God too much within the dimensions of the human perspective. With this sort of Jesus at hand, God becomes just too easy.
Yes, of course, one can read the incarnation very differently. I would argue that the idea of God as a baby is one of the most disruptive theological suggestions ever made. After all, isn't God supposed to be omnipotent? Here, Jesus is a supreme form of denial - a denial of God as power. And this powerlessness can be as much intellectual as anything else. To be a Christian is not to have the answers. Sometimes it's just about living the questions.
GUARDIAN
Giles Fraser is canon chancellor of St Paul's Cathedral.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Flock Ewe, Sheep-Killing Baa-stard!
Hello possums.
Not too long ago was the festival of Eid ul-Adha, the Islamic festival when Muslims commemorate Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son for God (see here for an in-depth explanation of the event). It is a tradition for eligible individuals to offer a sacrifice (a sheep, goat, camel, or cow) on the days of the celebration. This sacrifice is known as udhiya or qurban/qurbani, and the meat is shared out amongst the community, especially the poor and needy. It's best for one to undertake the slaughter oneself, however it is considered permissible for people to arrange for someone else to perform the slaughter on one's behalf, which doesn't have to be in the same country as the person who ordered the sacrifice. Such a practice is especially common amongst Muslims living in the urban areas of western countries, where it is highly impractical to offer a sacrifice the traditional way.
I ordered my own qurbani through the non-profit organisation Mahboba's Promise, an Australian NGO founded by Mahboba Rawi, an Afghan refugee. A short while ago, after Eid, I received an email from MP with a link to an online photo album with pics from the organisation's Eid slaughter in Kabul. As I scanned through the images, I came across photos of the freshly prepared meat laid out on a cloth on the ground, with signs bearing the names of the corresponding qurbani donors marking each pile of cuts. And lo and behold, I saw the pile of meat with a sign bearing my name!
You see, I came to realise something about our interactions with each other and the world, in this plane of existence. We all intellectually know that all actions have their respective effects. Throw a pebble, and make ripples. However, this knowledge is often precisely that - knowledge. We know it, but we act like we don't, and live like we don't - because even though we know it, it is just not real to us. We live in our foggy little bubbles, going about our everyday affairs, and who could blame us - if we don't experience something, can we really be expected to have a strong feeling about it?
So as I gazed upon my name on that nice little heap of mutton, Afghanistan became real to me. Those kids and slaughtermen in the photos, making dua together became real to me. Because of the power of a photo, my knowledge became real. I now knew, with full confidence that I just helped, no matter how ever so slightly, to make things better for a few people, for at least a short while. I realised that one could indeed create a tangible change and make a difference no matter where in the world one may be, as long as one puts one's mind to it. For a few moments at least, I truly got a sense of the brotherhood of man - we indeed are all in this together. No matter how seemingly insignificantly, my life cannot help but be touched by yours, and yours cannot help but be touched by mine.
I guess you could say that the overarching emotion I felt was hope. From the realised knowledge that I received in those few moments, I knew that anything is possible in regards to man. I received renewed hope in mankind's collective destiny, and have hope that we can work together to realise it.
Will I be able to sustain such realisations? For how long will I be able to live my life in the light of such realities before I sink again into forgefulness and the everyday humdrum? I don't know....but hope is alway there!
Big up yo'self Mahboba and co.!
Not too long ago was the festival of Eid ul-Adha, the Islamic festival when Muslims commemorate Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son for God (see here for an in-depth explanation of the event). It is a tradition for eligible individuals to offer a sacrifice (a sheep, goat, camel, or cow) on the days of the celebration. This sacrifice is known as udhiya or qurban/qurbani, and the meat is shared out amongst the community, especially the poor and needy. It's best for one to undertake the slaughter oneself, however it is considered permissible for people to arrange for someone else to perform the slaughter on one's behalf, which doesn't have to be in the same country as the person who ordered the sacrifice. Such a practice is especially common amongst Muslims living in the urban areas of western countries, where it is highly impractical to offer a sacrifice the traditional way.
I ordered my own qurbani through the non-profit organisation Mahboba's Promise, an Australian NGO founded by Mahboba Rawi, an Afghan refugee. A short while ago, after Eid, I received an email from MP with a link to an online photo album with pics from the organisation's Eid slaughter in Kabul. As I scanned through the images, I came across photos of the freshly prepared meat laid out on a cloth on the ground, with signs bearing the names of the corresponding qurbani donors marking each pile of cuts. And lo and behold, I saw the pile of meat with a sign bearing my name!
Meat, glorious meat (sorry folks, my name is not included in this shot!).
Conflicting emotions surged through my heart. The pride of, well, seeing one's own name put to something. The shame of realising that one is feeling this pride. However, I came to recognise a feeling which transcended all others, though I couldn't really name it.You see, I came to realise something about our interactions with each other and the world, in this plane of existence. We all intellectually know that all actions have their respective effects. Throw a pebble, and make ripples. However, this knowledge is often precisely that - knowledge. We know it, but we act like we don't, and live like we don't - because even though we know it, it is just not real to us. We live in our foggy little bubbles, going about our everyday affairs, and who could blame us - if we don't experience something, can we really be expected to have a strong feeling about it?
So as I gazed upon my name on that nice little heap of mutton, Afghanistan became real to me. Those kids and slaughtermen in the photos, making dua together became real to me. Because of the power of a photo, my knowledge became real. I now knew, with full confidence that I just helped, no matter how ever so slightly, to make things better for a few people, for at least a short while. I realised that one could indeed create a tangible change and make a difference no matter where in the world one may be, as long as one puts one's mind to it. For a few moments at least, I truly got a sense of the brotherhood of man - we indeed are all in this together. No matter how seemingly insignificantly, my life cannot help but be touched by yours, and yours cannot help but be touched by mine.
I guess you could say that the overarching emotion I felt was hope. From the realised knowledge that I received in those few moments, I knew that anything is possible in regards to man. I received renewed hope in mankind's collective destiny, and have hope that we can work together to realise it.
Will I be able to sustain such realisations? For how long will I be able to live my life in the light of such realities before I sink again into forgefulness and the everyday humdrum? I don't know....but hope is alway there!
Big up yo'self Mahboba and co.!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Eid mubarak!
Ahhh, Ramadan has passed here in Melbourne, and the celebration of Eid ul-Fitr begins tomorrow morning. Congratulations to all for their efforts!
These last couple of days I visited the masjid in which I took my shahada, and reconnected with a few old acquaintainces. Planning to go there for Eid prayers as well, apparently they'll be selling halwa puri for breakfast!
Ok, maybe it won't look exactly like the picture. But still, I've never had it before (closest thing I ever ate was chole bhatura) so I'm really looking forward to giving it a go! Will also be travelling to a muraqaba session in the evening inshallah....
Have a good one, dua's for all!
These last couple of days I visited the masjid in which I took my shahada, and reconnected with a few old acquaintainces. Planning to go there for Eid prayers as well, apparently they'll be selling halwa puri for breakfast!
Ok, maybe it won't look exactly like the picture. But still, I've never had it before (closest thing I ever ate was chole bhatura) so I'm really looking forward to giving it a go! Will also be travelling to a muraqaba session in the evening inshallah....
Have a good one, dua's for all!
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