Monday's rather relaxed pace eased me into a frenetic Tuesday of resource gathering and very technical Japanese conversation. It's quite a relief to discover that my language study is paying off, and I can just about, if rather painfully, maintain a decent academic conversation about Buddhism, thanks to Professor Bowring's Classical Japanese lectures and my three months last year at Nihon University.
Today, I went to Ōtani University (大谷大学), affiliated to the Higashi Honganji (東本願寺) school of True Pure Land Buddhism (浄土真宗), to meet Dr Kaku and the Rev'd Professor Michael Pye. Dr Kaku very kindly allowed me to use the excellent university library and Eastern Buddhist Society office to obtain copies of some much needed articles. Kisa, a young American graduate working as a volunteer, spent hours turning these into .pdfs for me, for which I am most grateful.
Michael Pye is retired professor of Buddhism at Marburg University, but I use the term 'retired' advised…
What a privilege is it to spend a week in perhaps the finest of Japan's four ancient capitals, Kyoto; and a greater privilege still to spend it in the Zen guest temple of Shinkoin, home to ancient Christian treasures (about which, more on Wednesday after I've been on the tour) and frequent haunt of the great Buddhist scholar D.T. Suzuki. Its priest, Taka, is the fifth generation of his family to serve there. He has studied extensively in the US and is married to an American, and so greeted me warmly in English. The rooms are far cosier than the austerity I had imagined, and with the air-con turned up, as warm as the welcome. The reasonable price of Y4000 per night includes zazen meditation practice and free us of bicycles, a must for getting around the fen-like flatness of this city.
I woke to the deep resonance of the temple bell feeling remarkably fresh, given jetlag and a well spent evening before chatting to locals in an excellent little bar-restaurant around the corner c…
Now refitted and ready for your prayers. The blessed sacrament is reserved and we have a beautiful new altar and some new chairs, do if you are nearby, please do come and pass some time here. To reach the Upper Chapel, go through the door by the High Altar of the main chapel, through the vestry, and up the spiral stairs.
Whitworth House is a home for vulnerable, homeless young women aged 16-25, which used to be part of the Young Women's Christian Association but is now run by a housing association. The Friends of the House organise charitable events to support this vital work here in Cambridge. Get your kilts on!
A moving article about a couple's attempts and failures to adopt children, leaving them with no choice but to consider surrogacy. The social workers' officiousness is predictable enough: dare to question the system, and you're instantly black-balled. Like so many customs officers, train conductors and airport security staff, these little Hitlers exercise their insecurities by showing the public who's really boss. But what particularly galls is the comparison of how hard the State makes it to adopt with the comparative ease of procuring an abortion. Something is surely desperately wrong. Surrogacy: Parenting the hard way - Features - Health & Families - The Independent:
According to Atherstone, the Church's insistence that only a priest may preside at Holy Communion is the last bastion of clericalism that needs to be swept away. The denial of lay presidency, he argues, has 'no place in today's church.' But Mr Gog would suggest the contrary: it is Atherstone's kind who have no place in the Church of England, and still less in a College training ordinands for Holy Orders.
Just as his ilk tends to veil extreme theology in the modern vesture of pop music, flashy PR, and casual dress, Atherstone clothes regressive theology in an appeal to the spirit of the age. Yet the arguments that he makes are not '20th century,' as he claims, but belong to the Puritans of the 16th and 17th. Atherstone is not looking ahead, but back to the Cromwellian Protectorate. His claims were firmly repudiated by the English Church then, and the repudiation has been continuously endorsed in the succ…
"Then charged he his disciples that they should tell no man that he was Jesus the Christ." Matthew 16:20 At a gathering of ordinands from various colleges, I remember one enthusiastic young thing piping up that what he most looked forward to about being ordained was 'telling people about Jesus.' I'll leave it to you to guess which theological college he came from (and no, it's not in Cambridge). Back in my atheist days, the last thing I wanted was for someone to come up and 'tell me about Jesus.' Nothing could put me off Christianity more. In fact, I still get pretty miffed when people try it on with me even now. Who do they think they are? For me, the appeal of being ordained is doing the Lord's work, rather than 'telling' people anything. After all, our Lord Himself did not go around 'telling people about Jesus,' and in fact, He often instructed His disciples to do just the opposite. Even after the Resurrection, He made Himself k…
Please allow me to recommend my Dojo. It's affiliated to the Aikikai, but we train in the traditional Iwama style. This means that we pay a lot of attention to the detail of the basic forms (kihon waza), including training with the sword and staff (ken and jo). If you don't know what Aikido is, then basically, it is a Japanese martial art in which the practitioner harmonises with an assailant's energy to use it against him – or her, since many women practise Aikido, and because it does not rely on brute strength, do so at no disadvantage. I've been practising for many years and never intend to give up. Mens sana and all that. Do give it a try!
A dark and frightening warning for our future from France. Say goodbye to any outdoor processions of the Blessed Virgin or the Sacrament through the streets. Presumably, you could be arrested for saying grace before a meal outside a café or crossing yourself as a hearse passes. They are even threatening to use force. Yet you can wear a belt instead of a skirt or eff and blind as loudly as you like. This, apparently, is less offensive to the French public's sympathies. How long before France encourages the EU to adopt and impose this oppressive legislation on its member states, I wonder? This is very much a time for solidarity with our Muslim brethren.
A new society has been formed with an ambitious agenda. A well-organised and highly educated cabal of zealous volunteers around the nation means to infiltrate as many state schools as it can. Its avowed aim is to inseminate infant minds with the fruits of pagan learning.
And I heartily approve.
I have often wondered whether the Church of England might be the
spiritual wing of the Labour Party, but I never thought of the Church
Times as the Socialist Worker - until 26 August, when a Trotskyite tirade by one Dr Northcott was juxtaposed with Simon Parke preaching that all
property is theft.
Presumably the editor thought Northcott's political musings suitable for
publication because of the bit of Christianity tagged on at the end.
Yet it would take a cynic indeed to believe, as Northcott opined, that the wicked Tories want
to destroy state education, the NHS and the notion of society, or that
their economic policy is intended as a clandestine assault on
democracy. I think I last heard such conspiracy theories from a Marxist
undergraduate in 1997.
Dr Northcott is right that capitalism is partly to blame for the recent
riots. But his argument is insufficient because the rioters are also
the product of a Labour government which poured unprecedentedly vast (borro…
Two interesting facts: Dr Dawkins was never professor of biology, but had a chair made up for him in 'public understanding of science.' Now that he no longer holds the chair, he is not entitled to style himself 'professor' at all. So it says a lot about him that he still does.
Besides, isn't science grounded in the indispensable myth of empiricism: that finite data can lead to an absolute conclusion?
And while many might like to do away with the fiction of human rights - that a universal code devised by liberal Europeans applies across all cultures - I suspect that Dawkins would not be among them. Nor do I see science offer an alternative.
Surely all our supposed truths are grounded in some sort of unprovable collective consensus that one can only call 'myth'?
The Guardian is absolutely spot-on in its condemnation of the consumer culture's effects on children. So why does it maintain a ruthlessly market-driven approach to abortion?
At present, the organisations which give supposedly unbiased information to women considering terminations are the very ones which receive money on execution of the deed - and only then. Surely, a vested interest.
Organisations, for example, like that named after the eugenicist Nazi-sympathiser Marie Stopes, who sent love letters to Hitler and disowned her child for marrying someone with poor eyesight. The Guardian practically beatifies her as the patron saint of women's rights, but if they really wanted to follow in her footsteps (or goosesteps), maybe they should just start an AH fan club.
'My body, my choice': you couldn't ask for a more consumerist mantra. And OK, it's excusable when it really is only 'my body' at stake. In that case, there are many reproductive choices alread…
ἔστι τῆς θεολογίας ἡ θεουργία συγκεφαλαίωσις 'Theurgy is the consummation of theology' (Ps.-Dionysius, Ecclesiastical Hierarchy 3.5, 432B) In a General Audience of 14 May 2008, Pope Benedict XVI delivered an address on what he called the 'rather mysterious figure' who wrote as Dionysius the Areopagite. To this Dionysius, the Pope attributes a 'new relevance' as 'a great mediator in the modern dialogue between Christianity and the mystical theologies of Asia'. Dionysius describes a negative path of speaking about God - that is, 'theology' in its fundamental sense. In this view, God is so far beyond the power of mortal speech and thought that one is limited to describing Him properly not by what He is, but only by what He is not. The Pope supposes a parallel here with what he reads as the extreme apophaticism of Asian thought. An apophatic and mysterious timbre can be seen even in the author of the Dionysian corpus' refusal to give the reade…
In the many column inches devoted to education, and especially to tuition fees, there is much talk of 'privilege.' You may well think that I, as a beneficiary of education at not one but three universities, am a clear example of it. And you'd be right. I have indeed been privileged.
I have been privileged by parents who valued my education enough that rather than let me flounder at the under-achieving local comprehensive, they paid boarding fees to send me to a state, grant-maintained boarding school (where, for the record, day pupils paid no fees). They could have spent their money on other things, but chose to make a sacrifice. They, in turn, had been privileged by the state grammar schools which educated them to be the first generation in their families to enter higher education, and so paved the way from working class life into the professions. And they had the support of blue collar parents who learnt the value of education again at the grammar schools which t…
"God has gone up with a shout, the Lord with the sound of a trumpet. Sing praises to God, sing praises!" +In nomine...
Fitting, that I should preach this sermon facing the great statue on the East wall. Our Lord may have been rather better dressed at the Ascension, but otherwise, our statue fits St Luke's description well: "He lifted up His hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while He blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven."
But why? Why should Our Lord ascend to share God's throne in heaven when He could have ruled so effectively here among us? The sort of earthly rule, perhaps, that David prophesies in his last words: "When one rules justly over men, he dawns on them like the morning light, like the sun shining forth on a cloudless morning." But Jesus, typically contrary, rises up instead into the clouds.
Of course, we have the theologian's textbook answer: Christ ascends blessing creation in order to uni…
A sermon preached in Selwyn College Chapel, Tuesday 10 May 2011 I'm sure I'm not the only one here who likes a good steak. And while I understand that some people like theirs charred to a piece of boot leather, personally, I prefer it barely to have touched the grill - so I've got something to dip the chips in. But even so, when I see it there, prepared for me on a plate, or when I buy it shrink-wrapped in the supermarket, I don't really pause to think of how it got there, that life was taken, blood was spilled. Death is commodified into discrete packages, spilt blood sanitised under the clingfilm or on my plate.
Tonight's stories of Moses and Mary relate two quite different experiences of God, but are united by a common first response: fear. Pure fear at the awesome life-making, life-taking power of the divine, so far beyond comprehension that it risks breaking their minds. Noone has seen God and yet lives. And so it is that Moses, urged on by an awe-struck people,…
"I am Death; I am the law that no man breaketh" - the first words of Holst's opera, Savitri, which my wife and I went to see last week. In this story, taken from the Sanskrit epic the Mahabharata, Sāvitri, wife of the woodman Satyavān, hears the voice of Death calling to her. He has come to claim her husband. Satyavān arrives to find his wife in distress, but assures Sāvitri that her fears are just illusion, māyā. But for all his complacency, when Death arrives, all strength leaves him and he falls to the ground. Sāvitri, alone and desolate, welcomes Death. Death, moved to compassion by this, offers her a boon: anything she wants, except for bringing Satyavān back to life. So, Sāvitri plays a sophistic trick on Death. She asks only for life. Death at first is confused, wondering why she asks for something she already has. But she asks again, saying that all she wants is life, life in its fullest. Death grants her his boon - on which she tells him that a full li…
Right since the beginning of the Anglo-French intervention in Libya, Colonel Gadaffi has called it 'a crusade.' It pains me to say it, but he may have a point.
The word 'Crusade' of course points back to grim old days of yore when Western Christendom decided to export its clearly superior and universally applicable mores to degenerate pagan lands. It was patently clear that anyone in their right mind would agree with the indisputable reasoning by which the Church governed our society. So when the foreigners failed to warm to our ideas and renounce their inferior barbaric philosophies, we could not understand why. We had to liberate their lands and people from the darkness of ignorance by all means - and it seemed the only thing they would listen to was force.
At Little St Mary's, Cambridge. The garden in the Lady Chapel is about to be dismantled after the Good Friday liturgy. It looked marvellous back-lit last night during the Vigil. I've also attached photos of the tomb, ready for the Blessed Sacrament, and the stripped altar after today's veneration of the Cross.
I hope you will forgive me for a few words on wordlessness.
There is a strange kind of Christianity that always has a fixed smile on its face; the kind that thinks that people get what they deserve, that if you pray hard enough, everything will always be OK. I think the recent events in Japan should make us very sceptical of this kind of religion. It does not tie in with the deaths of thousands of innocent people. And it does not tie in with the words of Jesus himself, who taught that it rains on the just and the unjust alike. Even the book of the Bible that deals most explicitly with the problem of terrible things happening to good people, the Book of Job, is ultimately inconclusive. A Christianity that gives easy answers to painful questions does nobody any favours. Indeed, faith if anything should only make us question more deeply.
Nor does the idea that people get what they deserve tie in with the God who, we believe, knew suffering and torture on the Cross. One who…
You have heard that it was said, you shall love your neighbour. To love your neighbour only is not enough. The old law is too easy: even the pagans can manage that. I say to you, love your enemies. You must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
If only. But even the first law, love your neighbour, the law that Jesus says is easy, seems too hard for us. So we hear reports of elderly patients abandoned to their ailments in NHS care. We hear of 'honour killings,' where not just neighbours but even family betray their sisters, daughters, wives. And even we live only streets away from people living homeless and despised, and seem as a society unable to care for them. To be honest, most of my neighbours - even most members of this college - I hardly know from Adam: so how can I love them? Yet this, Jesus asserts, even the pagans do.
Temptations, temptations. One of the many is to believe that we know better than our forebears. But it ain't necessarily so. Sometimes even new wineskins burst, and it's all the more a pity when they are filled with a sturdy vintage.
A friend on Facebook recently posted that New Hampshire is considering a bill to privatize marriage. The state government would no longer issue marriage licenses; instead, it would grant domestic partnerships to any legally consenting individuals. Well, almost any. As long as there are only two of them, and they're not too closely related by blood.
Yet if marriage is really just a private contract between individuals, presumably there should be nothing to stop multiple-partner, incestuous or even fixed-term 'marriages,' either.
Today begins the greater penitential season. We have doubtless heard much, as every year, in its run-up about 'taking things on' rather than 'giving things up' for Lent. So much so, perhaps, that it is in danger of becoming (like so much other church-talk) a platitude.
It ceases to be so first when we realise that 'taking on' is in fact a kind of 'giving up.' It is a giving up of time, of effort, of other more enjoyable things.
Second, it is no platitude if we realise that giving up something for Lent is not the same as 'giving up' in standard usage. It is not the giving up of resignation, of handing in one's work card or hanging up one's soccer boots. It is not giving up for God. It is giving up to God, giving upwards, giving in the sense of gift.
God does not need our gift, of course. We cannot buy God's favour.
Nor do we need to give the gift. We do not get anything back for it.
"Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." The words God addressed through the prophet's lips first to Israel are redirected at Epiphany. No longer is the 'you' God calls 'you' a race, or 'you' a nation, but you, just you, whoever, wherever, whatever you are. In the shining forth of the glory of God, the Old Covenant is transfigured into the New: no more the birthright of just one race or nation, but opened to the whole Creation. At Epiphany, the Church of the Jews, a Church of one people, gives birth to the Church we call "Catholic" - which means universal, complete, without exception, the Church that is given for all.
Please try to take a moment before you gasp in horror at my suggestion. Maybe it looks reactionary, anti-intellectual, even an act of cultural vandalism. But when did you last actually go to one of the public 'knowledge centres' formerly known as libraries? And what do you expect to find there? That's not a trick question. Museums, Libraries and Archives' research, available as a rather plush .pdf here, acknowledges that most people expect and indeed want to find books there. And indeed they will: although perhaps fewer than before, because libraries have also conceded to users' demands for more computers and, highly recommended by the MLA, coffee shops. After all, you'd probably have to walk, oh, minutes from your library to find the nearest Costabucks.