Fighting Christians

The September edition of Christianity magazine carries a letter of mine which really sums up my perspective on Christianity. I wrote the letter in response to the editorial written by the editor John Buckeridge in the July edition of the magazine. Here is my letter:

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In response to the editorial in the July ‘Christianity’ let me say that I support John Buckeridge’s policy of including a mix of articles that are less than good news and/or touch on controversy. For example, if the policy of ‘Christianity’ is to tell it as is, then the sharp disagreements existing between many Christains should be represented. After all, the Bible itself is frank about controversy amongst believers (Gal. 2:11, Acts 15:39). Christians are the beneficiaries of one universal message of salvation, but the various Christian subcultures hosting that message may split acrimoniously over such things as tithing, the history of creation, church structures, blessings, and healing etc, as recent correspondence in ‘Christianity’ suggests. We must be honest about the real state of affairs in Christendom.

But there is good reason for this state of affairs. The Christian view is that salvation is not attained through visible membership of a single highly integrated religious group. Many religious cults see it that way but true Christianity is different, being first and foremost a personal response demanded by the message of redemption. A faith such as Christianity, which majors on message rather than membership, is not easily confined to one tight knit group of people because, like any freely diffusing message, it can cross partisan barriers and take root where it wills. In Christianity where message is primary and membership secondary, there is a consequent trade off between freedom and disharmony. We may, of course, find disharmony unacceptable and do all we can to bring accord, but it is a fact that ‘The Church Invisible’ is distributed over a wide cross section of sometimes squabbling Christian subcultures. The quasi-Christian cults shortcut this problem, of course, with a very strict selection and management of their member’s beliefs, and when tricky questions are asked this is taken as evidence of unbelief. In contrast, real Christianity is no toy town cult, but has all the rough edges of a work in progress.

In line with ‘Christianity’s’ policy of handling difficult material I was gratified to read Adrian Plass’ article on healing (May). This article challenged the conspiracy of silent pretense and religious spin sometimes surrounding the subject of healing and which is reminiscent of the emperor’s new clothes.

However, it seems that John Buckeridge was criticised for editing a magazine that occasionally breaks the silences over awkward questions. This criticism used some spiritually intimidating language, which included accusations of unbelief and a call to repentance. Not only does this kind of criticism show just how partisan evangelicalism can get, but it also indicates that the temptation to arrive at a contrived harmony using the methods of the cults – namely, through silence, pretense and spiritual bullying – is never far away. If Christianity went down that road it really would be in trouble.
You may be able to quarantine a membership, but you can’t quarantine a message.

Communicating by Ozzmosis

Dr. Beardsly Bugbeard, liberal and bearded Bishop of Botchester (affectionately called “Bugrug” by his progressive clerics) is updating his diocesan liturgy by encouraging the use of swear words during Sunday worship and sermons in the churches of his diocese.

“We stiff upper lip English”, said the Bishop scratching his beard, “need to connect with our passions and express our feelings. The use of sentence intensifiers in church liturgy is one way we can get our message across and identify with workingmen and women in the community. If expressive expletives are good enough for the noble working classes they ought to be good enough for us middle class church(wo)men”.

The “Johnny Rotten” memoirs are required reading for new curates who ultimately have to sit an examination in the meaning and use of expletives and compose services that make imaginative use of “heavy duty language”. Curates also do a course at Botchester University’s sexology department with the Prof Trevor H. E. Pitts where they can learn the “adult” names of body parts and practices they never dreamed existed. The Good Bishop did the epilogue at the end of Channel four's “Osbourne night”. By the time of the epilogue, however, the bleeping machine had overheated and exploded so Bishop Bugbeard, who refers to bleeping machines as “the enemy of free speech” was able to deliver the full text of his message without censorship. The channel 4 phone lines were crammed by outraged stand up comics whose jokes about prudish church people are now obsolete. When VNP asked the Bishop to comment he said he had no time for a politically incorrect and reactionary blog that promulgates Victorian values. In any case, he said, he had to get to a commissioning service to the swear in a new curate (You bet). Takings at the Bishop's churches, however, have rocketed as he has shown no signs of decommissioning his swear boxes.

In the Nick of Time

Contemporary Christian evangelicalism has had a poor prophetic record if my sampling of it is anything to go by, just as bad as the Jehovah’s Witnesses in fact. If you like long shot odds then betting on the fulfillment of “prophecy” is the game for you. So folks, here’s the form so far on “prophecies” that have come to my notice:

1. The Mt Carmel prophecies affirming 1975 as a “significant” year.
2. That revival would sweep the southern part of England, as did the hurricane of 1987.
3. That this or that person would be healed from terminal cancer (and never did).
4. That there would be Christian revival shortly after Princess Di’s death.
5. The Spring Harvest prophecy that Westminster Chapel would be the center of a great revival in 1996.
6. That the millennium bug would be the precursor of Global collapse in the year 2000.
7. That Southern England would experience a devastating Earthquake.
8. That “big things” would be happening in the UK shortly after the July 2005 Benny Hinn rally in Norwich.

As a rule these often highly public “prophecies” are quietly dropped and anyone with a retentive memory is the enemy of those who support the ministries who put out these "prophecies". I haven’t particularly gone out of my way to seek out duff prophecies – they found me rather than I found them. So how many more are out there hiding themselves away in shame? I daren’t Google “Kansas City Prophet” for fear of what I might find. However, things are looking up. Before I could say “Kansas City Prophet” I got news of a “right on” prophecy. In the August 2006 edition of “Christianity” magazine ex-Christian rock musician Ian “Ishmael” Smale, now a children’s worker, tells a fascinating story of meeting at the end of the 70s some then unknown Irish musicians in a Brighton pub. Ian takes up the story:

“They were saying God had showed them they were going to be very big. They had scriptures and prophecies, but I looked round and there was nobody else in that pub. But they obviously got the prophecies right”

Really? Trouble is, I don’t follow rock music closely, so without cribbing off the Internet I haven’t got a clue about this group. Ian says that the lead singer was called “Bono”. I think that even if I met Bono I wouldn’t know him from Old Nick

Cut Me Some Slack

My church requires people applying for membership to go through a kind of informal interview with some well-respected church member like myself, who then brings a report to the church meeting. Sometimes I feel that there is something about this church membership business that I haven't twigged yet, and such were my feelings when I did my first and last church membership interview, an interview that turned out to be an absolute disaster. With the naive enthusiasm of a beginner I was hoping that my interviewee would not be a boring person - you know, sort of person who has worked as an assistant light switch operator all his life and keeps every issue of "Soup label collector's world". I'd much rather blow the church meeting away with a spiritual rags to riches report about a drug crazed street mugger of indeterminate species now awash with blessings in the Spirit.
Anyway, with a name like "Mr. Sebastian Horn of Great Twitchingham Hall" at least my interviewee sounded interesting. Lightning struck the teetering tower of the west wing as I made my way up the mile long overgrown drive of Mr. Horn's run down but very prestigious looking mansion. The clock struck 12 as I got to his front door, which seemed to sense my presence and creaked open of its own accord. The butler took my coat and then flew away with it.
"Good evening Mr. Horn" I said as I entered his cavernous hall.
"Good evening Mr. ReeveSSSSssss", he said, his reply tailing off into a hiss. "The name's HornSSSSsss actually, with an 's' on the end, just like yours. Can't you see I've got two of them?".
Mr. Horns described himself as a Stoker. "Coal?" I queried, "What, in these days of gas and electricity".
"Coal is not the only thing that makes a good roaring fire!" he said trying to suppress his smile as if endeavouring not to expose his teeth. Mr. Horns asked me if I smoked and I said that I did not. He said he always smoked. I then noticed wisps of smoke rising all round him.
"I've been trying to get into a church for a long while" he continued "and, I am sure, Mr. ReeveSSSsss, you can help me."
"Well I'll see”, I said. "Tell me about your conversion."
"Me and the Lord go back a long way. Great friends you know, he knows me well. But I haven't seen him for a bit. I tried to get hold of him a few years back and give him a proposition but I wasn't able to nail him down to anything."
I asked Mr. Horns what he saw himself contributing to church life.
"I have my own very effective three point sermon", he said as he gently fingered the funny looking pronged decoration on the end of his cast iron staff, "and I can't wait to use it!".
I informed Mr. Horns that the church needs to be in possession of all the facts before it can make a decision about his membership.
"Possession!" he snapped. "I quite like the sound of that! There'll be a plenty of that if I get my way". He went on to add: "Don't spend too much time deciding. I'm a bit short on time nowadays and I don’t want to wait until kingdom come. However, I'm sure someone of your calibre, Mr. ReeveSSSssss, will not disappointment me. If you succeed the world is mine to give; should you fail ...", Mr. Horns then gave a meaningful look at his staff and added, ".... you will find my three point sermons very convincing and to the point".

As I left I felt a strange tingling in the spine. Something about Mr. Horns gave me the creeps. The clock struck mid night as I passed through the door - where had all the time gone or had no time at all passed but very slowly? When I handed in my report to the good reverend gentleman who pasteurizes my church he seemed none too pleased.
"Well Mr. Reeve," grouched the good Rev. who, unlike the polite Mr. Horns, habitually addressed me in the singular, "I don't think we will be putting this report before the church". He obviously thought I had missed something important and I was never offered the job again. I don't know what the trouble was as Mr. Horns seemed as keen as any one I have met to get his place on the membership and do his bit and he clearly had the sort of resources to win friends and influence people. So keep an eye out for him in church; he is very distinguished looking - unlike the Devil, of course, who comes in disguise and is difficult to spot.