I've never come close to marital infidelity. No one in my extended family has either (and that covers lots of people); but it has now come close to me. Not in a family sense, thankfully, but a colleague who I sit on a committee with confided to me recently that her husband just announced that he'd had an affair with one of their friends! The other couple has now separated.
Its very different when one sees the raw emotion of betrayal in real life, up close, and not in the puerile reduction of cinema. Its far more complex, deep, and full of meaning when one talks to a shattered person. The pain is palpable.
My friend's life has changed irrevocably. Even if she and her husband are reconciled, there is no peace in the marriage any longer. No settled trust. She sees in her children's puzzled eyes (their father explained the matter to them) the loss of family cohesion, and uncomprehendingly.
Her home is no longer her home. She feels betrayed at every level. She asks was the other woman more attractive, nicer to be with, unencumbered by the banalities of everyday life and free from the rugged contours of intimacy with its good and bad in equal measure, unhidden from the other.
Imagine the feeling that you no longer feel joy or peace in the prospect of going home after work, in preparing for your children's next morning readying for school. You no longer look forward to bed, except hoping for the quick overtaking of sleep. Will it be sound? Will you hear your partner and wake, remembering the dagger to the heart? Helping the children with home work is not a family thing, now, but an obligation, with the husband in the house, representing his unloyalty!
Does she leave him? Her mother's instinct is to preserve the children's home life...but its now an effort and not a natural outflow of unstinted love flowing through the family, because there is now a choke on that flow. It effects everyone.
That's what its really like.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
36: 2
The second question in the '36 questions to intimacy' project:
2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?
Only a media outfit would think of that: fame is their bread and butter. I don't think that a mature adult would even think about 'fame'. To do so would be narcisistic, and it misunderstands 'fame'. People are not just famous. Their fame is an outcome; usually of achievement.
I'd imagine that people see fame for currency: it is productive of either wealth or power (or adulation for the narcissist). Maybe some people would be famous for doing 'good'. Mother Theresa springs to mind, but few. On the other hand, Tim Flannery is famous for getting it wrong...again and again. Do you want that?
My answer is 'no'. The second question then falls away.
But if the question is 'what would you like to be known for' that's different.
I avoid any temptation to go off into fantasy land (thus, I wouldn't want to be known for being a great...anything): instead, I would want to be known for loyalty, love, and being there when needed.
2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?
Only a media outfit would think of that: fame is their bread and butter. I don't think that a mature adult would even think about 'fame'. To do so would be narcisistic, and it misunderstands 'fame'. People are not just famous. Their fame is an outcome; usually of achievement.
I'd imagine that people see fame for currency: it is productive of either wealth or power (or adulation for the narcissist). Maybe some people would be famous for doing 'good'. Mother Theresa springs to mind, but few. On the other hand, Tim Flannery is famous for getting it wrong...again and again. Do you want that?
My answer is 'no'. The second question then falls away.
But if the question is 'what would you like to be known for' that's different.
I avoid any temptation to go off into fantasy land (thus, I wouldn't want to be known for being a great...anything): instead, I would want to be known for loyalty, love, and being there when needed.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Helping
Often we talk at church about assistance to our fellow members who are in some need. All well and good, and I must say, my family has benefited from such at crucial times, such as with a new born in the house. It is very welcome. It also comes in handy for incidental support: I'm happy to both give and receive.
But there are limits, I've noticed, and that's possibly understandable, given circumstances. I noticed this when I was in a youth group many moons ago. A single mother in our church had three young children. My mother helped look after them during school holidays, which was a bind for my brother and I as we didn't like the children; nevertheless, mum ploughed on.
Later the woman suffered a so-called 'nervous breakdown' and was hospitalised. The youth group went to her home to clean it. And cleaning it needed! It was good to do; but she needed such help in the long term. We couldn't do that: it was a one-off, as many church efforts are; but happily there are public services that can step in.
I would have loved someone to accompany me to hospital with one of my children recently: at 11:30 at night. I didn't think that would work...so the nice ambulance service accompanied me instead!
Compare that to Tim Winton's experience, as I understand it. His father had been injured in a work accident, and needed help to bathe. A local church member came every day to so help. Not in the short term, but in the long term. That's commitment to the needs of another, not the token that my youth group experience represented. Its a gutsy and sacrificial 'I'm here for you'. I don't know that many Christians would extend to that type of commitment...and I have to ask myself if I would.
But there are limits, I've noticed, and that's possibly understandable, given circumstances. I noticed this when I was in a youth group many moons ago. A single mother in our church had three young children. My mother helped look after them during school holidays, which was a bind for my brother and I as we didn't like the children; nevertheless, mum ploughed on.
Later the woman suffered a so-called 'nervous breakdown' and was hospitalised. The youth group went to her home to clean it. And cleaning it needed! It was good to do; but she needed such help in the long term. We couldn't do that: it was a one-off, as many church efforts are; but happily there are public services that can step in.
I would have loved someone to accompany me to hospital with one of my children recently: at 11:30 at night. I didn't think that would work...so the nice ambulance service accompanied me instead!
Compare that to Tim Winton's experience, as I understand it. His father had been injured in a work accident, and needed help to bathe. A local church member came every day to so help. Not in the short term, but in the long term. That's commitment to the needs of another, not the token that my youth group experience represented. Its a gutsy and sacrificial 'I'm here for you'. I don't know that many Christians would extend to that type of commitment...and I have to ask myself if I would.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Small Group Quirks
Like any group of people, small groups are going to be quirky, at least from time to time. And don't think that this is just a feature of church groups. I've been in a quirky branch of a political party. I found the Army quirky in its own special way, and a meeting of the Rationalist Society in Sydney that I attended when a friend debated them on something or other maxed out on quirkyness.
But, I stick with church small groups.
After some years attending 'high' Anglican Churches (two of them, and at the same time) in the city, I thought to check out churches closer to home in Randwick. St Judes was OK but I didn't feel the same about it as St James or CCSL; I eventually settled at Randwick Presbyterian during the women in ministry debates, to which I contributed on the pro side; not with much effect, I'd think; but on my way there I spent some time getting to know if Randwick Baptist church and I would work out. In the end no dice.
For my first time at the small group I was in, run by an assistant or student minister and his wife in their home, I turned up a fraction early, after walking up the hill from my place near Alison Rd. I was greeted politely enough; then peremptorily abandoned! The husband and wife who were hosting both left the room without explanation. They went off to pray, they told me later. I think I twiddled my thumbs.
At St Alban's Lindfield my wife and I sought to join a small group, but found the process riven with cliques. One friendly chap invited us to join the group that he was newly in. We accepted with pleasure. On the evening when we were about to go, feeling very much included as part of the parish, we got a phone call from the assistant minister (curate in Anglican parlance) to tell us not to attend the group! We were flabbergasted! Knowing the others in the group we could only surmise that we would be seen as spoiling the cosy social dynamic of those church worthies. Not pleasant. Confusing too, as we had many friends there and got on very well with the then Rector.
Come to think, they are the only two outlier experiences. Whew.
But, I stick with church small groups.
After some years attending 'high' Anglican Churches (two of them, and at the same time) in the city, I thought to check out churches closer to home in Randwick. St Judes was OK but I didn't feel the same about it as St James or CCSL; I eventually settled at Randwick Presbyterian during the women in ministry debates, to which I contributed on the pro side; not with much effect, I'd think; but on my way there I spent some time getting to know if Randwick Baptist church and I would work out. In the end no dice.
For my first time at the small group I was in, run by an assistant or student minister and his wife in their home, I turned up a fraction early, after walking up the hill from my place near Alison Rd. I was greeted politely enough; then peremptorily abandoned! The husband and wife who were hosting both left the room without explanation. They went off to pray, they told me later. I think I twiddled my thumbs.
At St Alban's Lindfield my wife and I sought to join a small group, but found the process riven with cliques. One friendly chap invited us to join the group that he was newly in. We accepted with pleasure. On the evening when we were about to go, feeling very much included as part of the parish, we got a phone call from the assistant minister (curate in Anglican parlance) to tell us not to attend the group! We were flabbergasted! Knowing the others in the group we could only surmise that we would be seen as spoiling the cosy social dynamic of those church worthies. Not pleasant. Confusing too, as we had many friends there and got on very well with the then Rector.
Come to think, they are the only two outlier experiences. Whew.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Two songs
For some reason, it has become a practice at our church to start the service (not wanting to be boring, but the biblical term is 'meeting'. 'Service' is too pagan for my liking, but I'll not mention this again too soon) by singing two songs or hymns in the one bracket (songs are the trite ditties we are modernly subjected to, hymns are proper reflective works).
Many years ago I toyed with this very same practice when presiding, but after watching the reaction of the congregation, once was too often. How do I pass on my experience to our current service conductors? I must say, I'm usually tempted to sit during the second one, as are some of our older members.
Another exciting moment in the service was when one of the ministers mentioned disquiet that the giver of last week's sermon had caused with a misunderstanding on the faith-works question.
Part of this would have been solved if a sermon was less a liturgical performance and more a discussion, with people free to ask questions, kindly, one hopes, at its conclusion, or in a separate seminar afterwards.
Many years ago I toyed with this very same practice when presiding, but after watching the reaction of the congregation, once was too often. How do I pass on my experience to our current service conductors? I must say, I'm usually tempted to sit during the second one, as are some of our older members.
Another exciting moment in the service was when one of the ministers mentioned disquiet that the giver of last week's sermon had caused with a misunderstanding on the faith-works question.
Part of this would have been solved if a sermon was less a liturgical performance and more a discussion, with people free to ask questions, kindly, one hopes, at its conclusion, or in a separate seminar afterwards.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Public Christians
I mentioned the work of Public Christians, as I call them, previously in an adverse manner.
Compare the media use of Australia's public Christians with that of the Dali Lama. The DL is, of course, a consummate faker, so I wouldn't want that aspect of his image to be replicated, but his coining of statements that pull people towards his world view and religion, as duplicitous as they are, is brilliant.
I understand that he takes advantage of the political support for Tibet against China, the Western infatuation with Eastern religions, and the congenial front that Buddhism shows to the West, but who wouldn't use their advantages to manipulate the media's handling of their statements?
A great opportunity not taken was during the debate a few years ago about providing 'Ethics' classes in primary schools. These are promoted as an alternative (a 'cool' alternative) to Christian 'Scripture' classes for children whose parents don't support their attendance at such.
In the debate, the then Anglican Archbishop of Sydney, Dr Peter Jensen talked about 'Christian values' being promoted.
The primary Christian value in this connection is provided by Isaiah: all our righteousness is as filthy rags!
The problem with ethics classes is that ethical epistemology is built on a particular view of the world; the world view that structures ethics classes includes (unavoidably) no pathway to deal with ethical failure. Where is forgiveness outside a framework of grace? It might be given lip-service, but it is an applique on a world view that cannot include it. Jensen didn't touch this, and so lost a great opportunity to introduce the heart of the gospel into an active debate.
'Epic fail' as they say these days.
Compare the media use of Australia's public Christians with that of the Dali Lama. The DL is, of course, a consummate faker, so I wouldn't want that aspect of his image to be replicated, but his coining of statements that pull people towards his world view and religion, as duplicitous as they are, is brilliant.
I understand that he takes advantage of the political support for Tibet against China, the Western infatuation with Eastern religions, and the congenial front that Buddhism shows to the West, but who wouldn't use their advantages to manipulate the media's handling of their statements?
A great opportunity not taken was during the debate a few years ago about providing 'Ethics' classes in primary schools. These are promoted as an alternative (a 'cool' alternative) to Christian 'Scripture' classes for children whose parents don't support their attendance at such.
In the debate, the then Anglican Archbishop of Sydney, Dr Peter Jensen talked about 'Christian values' being promoted.
The primary Christian value in this connection is provided by Isaiah: all our righteousness is as filthy rags!
The problem with ethics classes is that ethical epistemology is built on a particular view of the world; the world view that structures ethics classes includes (unavoidably) no pathway to deal with ethical failure. Where is forgiveness outside a framework of grace? It might be given lip-service, but it is an applique on a world view that cannot include it. Jensen didn't touch this, and so lost a great opportunity to introduce the heart of the gospel into an active debate.
'Epic fail' as they say these days.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
First date
In a previous post I mentioned the sparse intellectual offerings of my earlier church life.
My first encounter with studious engagement with the Bible occurred in a home group associated with a Billy Graham event (I think). It was organised by an old school friend and conducted by a couple who were keen and widely read Calvinists (a near-oxymoron there). This couple impressed me greatly, particularly their prayerfulness, their grasp of the scriptures and their generosity. They lead me into literature that was completely and welcomely new to me. I read this avidly for a number of years, and it was through their encouragement that I attended summer schools at Capenwray's Australian operation.
But I'd still not really encountered anyone who thought about the sermons they heard and talked about them critically until I met a young woman at one of the many church 'camps' (I much prefer the Anglican term 'house party') that I attended.
On our first date we visited a huge civil engineering project that my employer was completing (don't panic, it wasn't a mine, sewerage treatment works or dam; it was a public recreation area on previously waste land). All went well, and we seemed to have little incentive to part, so attended a local church together that evening.
The sermon was unremarkable, but I was thrilled that Foxtrot (code word to hide identity...not her real name, in case you were wondering) remarked upon the sermon: the benefits of a BA degree, I guess. This was a welcome first in my experience, as I'd known no one in my circle who even entertained the possibility of so doing.
I'm pleased to say that one of my brothers and his family regularly discuss the sermons given in their parish (and one of his children is studying to be a minister), as do my wife and I and a number of our friends. I encourage it.
My first encounter with studious engagement with the Bible occurred in a home group associated with a Billy Graham event (I think). It was organised by an old school friend and conducted by a couple who were keen and widely read Calvinists (a near-oxymoron there). This couple impressed me greatly, particularly their prayerfulness, their grasp of the scriptures and their generosity. They lead me into literature that was completely and welcomely new to me. I read this avidly for a number of years, and it was through their encouragement that I attended summer schools at Capenwray's Australian operation.
But I'd still not really encountered anyone who thought about the sermons they heard and talked about them critically until I met a young woman at one of the many church 'camps' (I much prefer the Anglican term 'house party') that I attended.
On our first date we visited a huge civil engineering project that my employer was completing (don't panic, it wasn't a mine, sewerage treatment works or dam; it was a public recreation area on previously waste land). All went well, and we seemed to have little incentive to part, so attended a local church together that evening.
The sermon was unremarkable, but I was thrilled that Foxtrot (code word to hide identity...not her real name, in case you were wondering) remarked upon the sermon: the benefits of a BA degree, I guess. This was a welcome first in my experience, as I'd known no one in my circle who even entertained the possibility of so doing.
I'm pleased to say that one of my brothers and his family regularly discuss the sermons given in their parish (and one of his children is studying to be a minister), as do my wife and I and a number of our friends. I encourage it.
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