This was the magazine of St Brelade's Church. This edition dates from 2005. The editor was Elsie M Pryor.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT?
I came across a dachshund out at La Rocque; the couple who owned the dog were quite determined to have the dog put to sleep the next day. I asked why they were taking this action. 'Oh it's always snapping at our ankles' was the reply. I had often been there and the dachshund always ignored me.
'Have you ever tried a mild tranquilliser?"No, no one ever suggested it.' 'Well I think it is worth giving it a try.' Out of my bag I took about 20 mild tablets. 'Make sure your dog has one tablet daily, I'll call in a month and see how he is getting on'.
One month later and I did as promised, to my delight I was greeted by the dachshund, full of life, and happy to see me. The tablets had worked. A very happy ending.
Dr. Douglas Begg.
A QUICK EASTER PUDDING
Upside down Pear Tart.
2 oz butter
2 oz dark brown sugar
4 dessert pears
8 oz self-raising flour 5oz butter
2 oz castor sugar 1 egg
Pinch of ginger.
1) Melt the butter and dark brown sugar in the bottom of a flan dish until toffee like consistency.
2) Peel, core and halve the pears, lay them on the toffee flat side down.
3) Combine the rest of the ingredients into sweet pastry - chill for 10 minutes.
4) Roll out the pastry to cover the dish thickly, tucking the edges down inside the rim of the flan dish.
5) Bake for approximately 30 minutes at 180°c or until the pastry is golden brown.
6) Remove from the oven and allow to cool for a few minutes.
7) NOW THIS IS THE TRICKY PART! Run a knife around the edge of the dish; invert a large plate over the top, and in one firm movement, turn it out.
8) Serve with fresh Jersey Cream or Greek Yoghurt.
Enjoy – Terri Bond
WELLS IN DRY PLACES
Is there any hope for the Church?
It's a funny thing, Post-modernity. We are mostly comfortable, awash with information and saturated with spiritual riches yet why are so many of us so sad? Living at the beginning of the 21st Century leaves individuals and communities rootless and restless. For Christian congregations the new situation is perplexing or even terrifying. The collapse of old certainties has called into question our reason for existence. We are thinking the unthinkable -for how many communities is this the last Christian generation? There is a valley of the shadow of death for the Christian church and we are walking through it.
Yet, would we change the times in which we live? The certainty of times past might have a certain nostalgic appeal but for the Inquisition, Bubonic Plague and all that witch burning. However uncomfortable people of faith find secularisation it does deliver us from assuming we can run the world, dashing off to Latin America to civilise the natives or doing Crusader's package tour of the Holy Land - take in a few sights and bash the Moslems. Dark humour aside, Christianity lives with the bitter taste left behind by inhumanity committed in the name of Christ. Whatever we offer to this Post-modern generation we must not yield to the fallacy that all we have to do is simply shout louder and people will take notice. In a setting where most hearers have an antipathy to religious authoritarianism we cannot equate 'revival' or 'renewal' to a simple restoration of the glory days when religious institutions enjoyed their numerical peak. This is not the same thing as saying that God has abandoned us to irrelevance.
Spirituality is an even more complex issue. At its best Christian Tradition is -as Thomas Merton said - 'a living current of uninterrupted vitality'. However, we are all too aware that some of what comes down to us from the past is not invigorating but burdensome. Moreover, although Christians of different Traditions - Methodist, Orthodox, Anglican, Roman Catholic or Anabaptist - are inheritors of a unique spiritual story, they also function within a marketplace spiritualities. The 'average Methodist' (if such a person exists) is as likely to take their spiritual influences from TV Christianity or even the 'Mind, Body and Spirit' shelves in Ottakar's as they are from congregational prayer, the preacher or John Wesley. And that's not all - patterns of church attendance are changing. One week it's Sunday worship and the next it's a walk in the country or a visit to B&Q. It's not that people are any less religious - just that the mood is religion without walls.
The Free Churches in particular are finding the new climate harsh. Church attendance figures for the United Reformed Church and Methodism; for example tell a story of Institutions in apparent freefall. There is a sense of lostness in many Nonconformist churches. We might wonder if dissenters know any longer what they are dissenting from or whether Merton's 'living current' has indeed been interrupted. It is one thing to find wells in dry places -as Jews and Christians have from Abraham to the present day - but quite another to wonder if the wells have run dry.
The relative resilience of Episcopal Traditions in the face of decline and the impressive vigour of many Pentecostal/Charismatic churches should give mainstream Nonconformity pause for thought. Now, there are all kinds of reasons why various Christian Traditions fare differently in the new religious climate. Part of the driving force behind the success of Pentecostal/Charismatic Christianity is to do with community coherence and a clear sense of direction. At their best these churches offer members a rich community life and foster a sense of thrilling expectancy - a powerful experience of the presence of God. However, such success is not without its drawbacks. These churches populate their margins with angular and disappointed critics. Furthermore, whilst the appeal of Pentecostal/Charismatic Christianity is understandable, for people in our culture most tuned in to the new Post-modern mood the note of dogmatism in such churches is deeply off-putting.
So much for the Pentecostal/Charismatic Tradition, but with regard to the matter of relationships between Nonconformist and Episcopal churches I would like to tell two personal stories. The first belongs to the Easter period in 1986 when my wife Karen and I went to Hazelwood Castle in North Yorkshire, then home for a Roman Catholic, Carmelite monastic community. The Guest Master - a good humoured twinkly-eyed Irishman, found out we were Protestant missionary candidates and promptly sat us next to a statue of St. Jude in the chapel, whom we later discovered was the patron saint of hopeless causes. We couldn't have been made more welcome. Afterwards we noted the reason why our retreat meant so much to us. Here was a community which suggested a seamless connection between spirituality and ordinary life. Here were people for whom becoming more Christian was a matter of becoming more human, not entering into a strange religious twilight zone. Here were Christians who valued simplicity, silence and solitude. I came to the conclusion, years later, that this was the first time we realised the difference between silence and a mere absence of words. Finally, here was a kind of Christianity which had something to say to the same constituency who might frequent New Age bookshops, bemoan the sheer weariness of modern life or yearn for a more integrated, holistic spirituality; in short, many of us. When potential retreatants arrived at the Friary no one asked them for a Statement of Faith. The welcome offered was without preconditions and spoke to the kind of people for whom a more dogmatic Christianity was offensive.
My second story flows from more than twenty years of encounters with Christians of the Anabaptist/Mennonite Tradition. In a nutshell these churches are the descendents of the left wing of the 16th Century Reformation. Pacifist, community-minded and deeply committed to social justice, Anabaptists represent a stream of the Christian Church that was snuffed out in Britain through persecution towards the end of the 16th Century. Normally Anabaptists are regarded as a Nonconformist Protestants but quite a few commentators have pointed out that in many key areas Anabaptist life and theology lies somewhere between Catholic and Protestant practice. Significantly a good number of early Anabaptist leaders were former Benedictine monks. In the rich community life of Mennonite congregations, Amish settlements and Hutterite communities that early monastic influence is evident. When the Hutterites talk about Gelassenheit (submission to the will of God in community) this really is only one short step removed from the monastic obedience. For myself, what I found in Anabaptism was the same integration of spirituality and ordinary life that was typical of monasticism -without the inconvenience of celibacy! Nonconformity can learn a good deal from the way in which Anabaptism has incorporated 'monastic' elements in a broadly Evangelical theology. Not surprisingly, Anabaptist life has its admirers even outside of the Christian constituency, as everyone who has wondered why the Amish abstain from some aspects of modem life can testify.
What are we to make of this experience? It is a desperately unscientific observation but I am left with the impression that many casual visitors to such churches do not come away with a sense of spirituality that is deeply rooted either in an ancient Tradition or in ordinary life. Neither, sometimes, is congregational life encountered as a rich experience of community. Some of the elements that made Wesley's Methodism so potent have been retained but others - such as fully functional Class Meetings - have fallen by the wayside in most places. Additionally, Nonconformists need to ask why they do not conform and whether reasons and whether the reasons for such dissent have any contemporary relevance. Some of these issues are now a matter of historical curiosity but I for one still have significant reservations about the re-unification of the Anglican Communion and Methodism so long as the Church of England is an established church.
Where there are encouraging signs in Methodist congregations usually progress is linked to a rediscovery of the cell group/small group structure that was so typical of early Methodism. However the impression is still given that mainstream Methodism has neither the contemporary appeal of Pentecostal/Charismatic Christianity nor the eloquent 'rootedness' typical of many Roman Catholic, Anglican or Orthodox congregations. Of course, Methodists have no monastic orders. The nearest thing I ever saw was Cliff College, a Methodist college in the Peak District, which I recall was nicknamed a 'Methodist monastery'. Here are a few 'desert island' questions for exploration:
1. Is there a way to learn from the strengths of Charismatic/Evangelical churches without carrying over Fundamentalist 'baggage'? If so, how?
2. What is the best way to encourage a deeply rooted spirituality in churches?
3. Is there any potential in the idea of a 'Methodist Monastic Order? If w), what might this 'Order' look like?
4. in what ways might churches engage more effectively with people who are comfortable in the fluidity of the post-modern climate?
Before post-modernity came along spirituality and Institutions went together like fish and chips. God was in his heaven, preachers were nine feet above contradiction and most people played by the rules. Now we must make do with fewer certainties. If the older arrangements were 'solid' and the new situation is 'fluid' then what shall we do? We cannot go back. We must learn to swim!
Philip Wood.
WELLS IN DRY PLACES
Is there any hope for the Church?
It's a funny thing, Post-modernity. We are mostly comfortable, awash with information and saturated with spiritual riches yet why are so many of us so sad? Living at the beginning of the 21st Century leaves individuals and communities rootless and restless. For Christian congregations the new situation is perplexing or even terrifying. The collapse of old certainties has called into question our reason for existence. We are thinking the unthinkable -for how many communities is this the last Christian generation? There is a valley of the shadow of death for the Christian church and we are walking through it.
Yet, would we change the times in which we live? The certainty of times past might have a certain nostalgic appeal but for the Inquisition, Bubonic Plague and all that witch burning. However uncomfortable people of faith find secularisation it does deliver us from assuming we can run the world, dashing off to Latin America to civilise the natives or doing Crusader's package tour of the Holy Land - take in a few sights and bash the Moslems. Dark humour aside, Christianity lives with the bitter taste left behind by inhumanity committed in the name of Christ. Whatever we offer to this Post-modern generation we must not yield to the fallacy that all we have to do is simply shout louder and people will take notice. In a setting where most hearers have an antipathy to religious authoritarianism we cannot equate 'revival' or 'renewal' to a simple restoration of the glory days when religious institutions enjoyed their numerical peak. This is not the same thing as saying that God has abandoned us to irrelevance.
Spirituality is an even more complex issue. At its best Christian Tradition is -as Thomas Merton said - 'a living current of uninterrupted vitality'. However, we are all too aware that some of what comes down to us from the past is not invigorating but burdensome. Moreover, although Christians of different Traditions - Methodist, Orthodox, Anglican, Roman Catholic or Anabaptist - are inheritors of a unique spiritual story, they also function within a marketplace spiritualities. The 'average Methodist' (if such a person exists) is as likely to take their spiritual influences from TV Christianity or even the 'Mind, Body and Spirit' shelves in Ottakar's as they are from congregational prayer, the preacher or John Wesley. And that's not all - patterns of church attendance are changing. One week it's Sunday worship and the next it's a walk in the country or a visit to B&Q. It's not that people are any less religious - just that the mood is religion without walls.
The Free Churches in particular are finding the new climate harsh. Church attendance figures for the United Reformed Church and Methodism; for example tell a story of Institutions in apparent freefall. There is a sense of lostness in many Nonconformist churches. We might wonder if dissenters know any longer what they are dissenting from or whether Merton's 'living current' has indeed been interrupted. It is one thing to find wells in dry places -as Jews and Christians have from Abraham to the present day - but quite another to wonder if the wells have run dry.
The relative resilience of Episcopal Traditions in the face of decline and the impressive vigour of many Pentecostal/Charismatic churches should give mainstream Nonconformity pause for thought. Now, there are all kinds of reasons why various Christian Traditions fare differently in the new religious climate. Part of the driving force behind the success of Pentecostal/Charismatic Christianity is to do with community coherence and a clear sense of direction. At their best these churches offer members a rich community life and foster a sense of thrilling expectancy - a powerful experience of the presence of God. However, such success is not without its drawbacks. These churches populate their margins with angular and disappointed critics. Furthermore, whilst the appeal of Pentecostal/Charismatic Christianity is understandable, for people in our culture most tuned in to the new Post-modern mood the note of dogmatism in such churches is deeply off-putting.
So much for the Pentecostal/Charismatic Tradition, but with regard to the matter of relationships between Nonconformist and Episcopal churches I would like to tell two personal stories. The first belongs to the Easter period in 1986 when my wife Karen and I went to Hazelwood Castle in North Yorkshire, then home for a Roman Catholic, Carmelite monastic community. The Guest Master - a good humoured twinkly-eyed Irishman, found out we were Protestant missionary candidates and promptly sat us next to a statue of St. Jude in the chapel, whom we later discovered was the patron saint of hopeless causes. We couldn't have been made more welcome. Afterwards we noted the reason why our retreat meant so much to us. Here was a community which suggested a seamless connection between spirituality and ordinary life. Here were people for whom becoming more Christian was a matter of becoming more human, not entering into a strange religious twilight zone. Here were Christians who valued simplicity, silence and solitude. I came to the conclusion, years later, that this was the first time we realised the difference between silence and a mere absence of words. Finally, here was a kind of Christianity which had something to say to the same constituency who might frequent New Age bookshops, bemoan the sheer weariness of modern life or yearn for a more integrated, holistic spirituality; in short, many of us. When potential retreatants arrived at the Friary no one asked them for a Statement of Faith. The welcome offered was without preconditions and spoke to the kind of people for whom a more dogmatic Christianity was offensive.
My second story flows from more than twenty years of encounters with Christians of the Anabaptist/Mennonite Tradition. In a nutshell these churches are the descendents of the left wing of the 16th Century Reformation. Pacifist, community-minded and deeply committed to social justice, Anabaptists represent a stream of the Christian Church that was snuffed out in Britain through persecution towards the end of the 16th Century. Normally Anabaptists are regarded as a Nonconformist Protestants but quite a few commentators have pointed out that in many key areas Anabaptist life and theology lies somewhere between Catholic and Protestant practice. Significantly a good number of early Anabaptist leaders were former Benedictine monks. In the rich community life of Mennonite congregations, Amish settlements and Hutterite communities that early monastic influence is evident. When the Hutterites talk about Gelassenheit (submission to the will of God in community) this really is only one short step removed from the monastic obedience. For myself, what I found in Anabaptism was the same integration of spirituality and ordinary life that was typical of monasticism -without the inconvenience of celibacy! Nonconformity can learn a good deal from the way in which Anabaptism has incorporated 'monastic' elements in a broadly Evangelical theology. Not surprisingly, Anabaptist life has its admirers even outside of the Christian constituency, as everyone who has wondered why the Amish abstain from some aspects of modem life can testify.
What are we to make of this experience? It is a desperately unscientific observation but I am left with the impression that many casual visitors to such churches do not come away with a sense of spirituality that is deeply rooted either in an ancient Tradition or in ordinary life. Neither, sometimes, is congregational life encountered as a rich experience of community. Some of the elements that made Wesley's Methodism so potent have been retained but others - such as fully functional Class Meetings - have fallen by the wayside in most places. Additionally, Nonconformists need to ask why they do not conform and whether reasons and whether the reasons for such dissent have any contemporary relevance. Some of these issues are now a matter of historical curiosity but I for one still have significant reservations about the re-unification of the Anglican Communion and Methodism so long as the Church of England is an established church.
Where there are encouraging signs in Methodist congregations usually progress is linked to a rediscovery of the cell group/small group structure that was so typical of early Methodism. However the impression is still given that mainstream Methodism has neither the contemporary appeal of Pentecostal/Charismatic Christianity nor the eloquent 'rootedness' typical of many Roman Catholic, Anglican or Orthodox congregations. Of course, Methodists have no monastic orders. The nearest thing I ever saw was Cliff College, a Methodist college in the Peak District, which I recall was nicknamed a 'Methodist monastery'. Here are a few 'desert island' questions for exploration:
1. Is there a way to learn from the strengths of Charismatic/Evangelical churches without carrying over Fundamentalist 'baggage'? If so, how?
2. What is the best way to encourage a deeply rooted spirituality in churches?
3. Is there any potential in the idea of a 'Methodist Monastic Order? If w), what might this 'Order' look like?
4. in what ways might churches engage more effectively with people who are comfortable in the fluidity of the post-modern climate?
Before post-modernity came along spirituality and Institutions went together like fish and chips. God was in his heaven, preachers were nine feet above contradiction and most people played by the rules. Now we must make do with fewer certainties. If the older arrangements were 'solid' and the new situation is 'fluid' then what shall we do? We cannot go back. We must learn to swim!
Philip Wood.
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