FROM THE PULPIT
I’ve just returned from a conference in Belfast on the subject of Radical
Theology. It was very often a provocative and challenging experience, but
ultimately one that I was glad to have had. In case you’re wondering, Radical
Theology, as the name suggests, is a way of looking at our relationship God
which, amongst other things, refuses to take for granted the traditional
theological thinking, language and practices we have historically used in the
church. This manifested itself in various ways at the conference, but chiefly in
the make-up of the group itself. Among the participants there were those who
described themselves as atheists, those who saw themselves as beyond
theism but not quite atheists and others who had a less pronounced aversion
to orthodoxy. So it was a fascinating mix of perspectives. With that
kaleidoscopic make up, you could imagine the possibility of violent
disagreement being quite high. The truth was quite different. There was an
openness to hear one another stories without prejudice and a generosity of
spirit even in the face of difference. This, for me, summed up what the
theologian Dorothy Soelle calls “humanitarian religion”. The goal of
humanitarian religion is not slavish obedience to some overarching scheme
dictated by the powers that be but rather a desire to grow and develop as a
person and as a disciple. Dietrich Bonhoeffer offered something similar back
in the war years when he talked about ‘religionless Christianity’.
As I mentioned earlier, the conference was challenging and provocative but
that’s a good thing. To be challenged and provoked is actually an indicator
that one is alive. If anyone holds onto the thought that they have nothing
more to learn it suggests to me that they haven’t learned very much in the
first place, and that they are to a certain extent dead. And this ought to be
both comforting and challenging. The challenge is obvious – that we
recognise that we don’t hold all the cards, we don’t have all the answers. But
the paradox is that this lack of security is what provides us with comfort. We
are not part of a great experiment where God is the examiner and we have to
pass or else. Life is there to be lived, it is not a test where we have to
measure up or pack up. And this tells me that, despite our differences,
despite the challenges that life itself can throw at us from time to time, life is
there to be enjoyed, indeed revelled in.
The Easter season is about new life and growth. It is about looking for life
often in the midst of death. If we, as people of faith for whatever reason, cut
ourselves off from that search for life, then we are in danger of inhabiting a
church that is merely perpetuating a dormant system instead of presenting a
living and hopeful faith. It should not come as any surprise, then, that Jesus
would say something as outrageous as: 'I have come to give life and life to
the full.’
Love
Scott
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