Forsaken by God (3)

This afternoon, Journey's "Atheism for Lent" Course created a "Forsaken by God" service for Good Friday, to reflect on the content of the Course (see here) and to encourage others to think about doubt, disbelief, and God's own atheism on the Cross.

I began with a Welcome and Introduction that explained a little about what we'd been doing over the past few weeks:

On the Cross, God experienced the absence of God, so we have been giving up God for Lent. We have looked at atheist critiques of God, religion and faith, purging ourselves of an instrumentalised religion in which God and faith are instruments for sanctioning our own means and achieving our own ends. We have sought to discover a richer and more honest faith, in which our doubt and disbelief are recognised and remembered. Our experiences of the absence of God do not signal our distance from God but, rather, our identity with God, who too was forsaken by God.

After we sang Sydney Carter's "Friday Morning," I read an imaginative re-telling of the Crucifixion narrative that I wrote:

We crucified Jesus of Nazareth with criminals, and together we mocked him, calling him Christ, King of the Jews, Friend of Elijah, Son of God. At noon, a thick darkness descended and we could hardly see his face up there, veiled in blood and black. But at three o’clock we heard him cry a loud lament. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And then he breathed his last. As if his body were its own, the whole earth echoed his expulsion of air; the ground trembled terribly, rocks split and burst forward, and bodies buried recent and long shifted in their tombs so that in the days to come many would say that they had seen the dead arise. But I think I also heard him say, “It is finished.”

Then we had a reading from G.K. Chesterton, "Let the Atheists Choose a God":

When the world shook and the sun was wiped out of heaven, it was not at the crucifixion, but at the cry from the cross: the cry which confessed that God was forsaken of God. And now let the revolutionaries of this age choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world. They will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. Let the atheists themselves choose a god. They will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which God seemed for an instant to be an atheist.

And Dave performed Prince's "The Cross"

I modified (adding a sprinkling of Nietzsche) a section of "Angels in America" (see here) to make a reading, "Sue the Bastard," which our Pastor Chris read wonderfully:

The prophet, yes. That is what they call me. I am like a madman in a market place.

God abandoned us. He isn’t coming back. And if he ever did come back, if he ever dared to show his face in the garden again, if he ever returned to see how much suffering his abandonment had created, and if all he had to offer was death, we should sue the bastard. That’s my only contribution to all this theology, all this a-theology. Sue the bastard for walking out. How dare he?! He walked out on us, He ought to pay.

We suffer. But we don’t want death, we want life. I want more life. So bless me anyway. I want more life, I can’t help myself, I do, I want more life. I’ve lived through such terrible times and there are people who’ve lived through much, much worse. But we see them living anyway, when they’re more spirit than body, when they’re more sores than skin, when they’re burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children, they live. I don’t know if it’s not braver to die, but I recognise the habit, the addiction of being alive. We don’t want death, we don’t want After Life, we want life, here and now. And if we can find hope anywhere, anyhow, that’s it, that’s the best we can do. So bless us anyway, we want more life. Thus spake the prophet!

Then we sang the chorus of Depeche Mode's "Blasphemous Rumours" like a Taize chant:

I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours

But I think that God’s got a sick sense of humour
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

We had a ritual, "Sacred Cows," of submerging and washing away names and images of God from paper in bowls of water, and had a wonderful poem written by a member of Journey's writing group, "Queer Ink," reflecting on the content of the "Atheism for Lent" Course, asking, "What is the name of this god you disbelieve in?"

 
Then Dave performed George Michael's "Praying for Time:"
 

 
I edited one of Pete Rollins' parables so that it was short enough for a reading:

There was once a preacher who possessed an unusual but powerful gift. Far from encouraging people’s religious beliefs, he found that from an early age, when he prayed for people, they would lose their religious beliefs, beliefs about the prophets, about the sacred Scriptures, even about God. Now he rarely prayed for others, instead limiting himself to sermons.


One day, however, whilst travelling across the country, he found himself in conversation with a businessman who happened to be going in the same direction. This businessman was very wealthy, having made his money in the world of international banking. The conversation had begun because the businessman possessed a deep faith and had noticed the preacher reading from the Bible. He introduced himself and they began to talk. As they chatted together, the rich man told the preacher all about his faith in God and his love of Christ. It turned out that although he worked hard in his work he was not really interested in worldly goods.

“The world of business is a cold one,” he confided to the preacher, “and in my line of work there are situations in which I find myself that challenge my Christian convictions. I try to remain true to my faith. Indeed, it is my faith that stops me from getting too caught up in that heartless world of work, reminding me that I am really a man of God.”

The preacher thought for a moment and then asked, “Can I pray for you?” The businessman readily agreed, not knowing what he was letting himself in for. And sure enough, after the preached had said his simple prayer, the businessman opened his eyes in astonishment. “What a fool I have been for all these years,” he said. “There is no God who is looking out for me, there are no sacred texts to guide me, there is no spirit to inspire me.”

They parted company and the businessman returned home to work. But now that he no longer had any religious beliefs to make him question his work and to hold it lightly, knowing himself to be, deep down, a man of God, he was no longer able to continue with it. Faced with the fact that he was now just a hard-nosed businessman working in a corrupt system, he began to despise himself. And so, shortly after his meeting with the preacher, he gave up his line of work completely, gave the money he had accumulated to the poor, and started to use his considerable expertise helping a local charity.

One day, years later, he happened upon the preacher again. He ran up to him and fell to his knees. “Thank you,” he cried, “for helping me to lose my religion and find my faith.”

I also modified a wonderful poem by Kester Brewin, which he shared on his blog this morning, and added a few lines of my own (inspired by Pete):

Today, there is no hope.
God is nowhere.

There is no resurrection,
No looking forward to a Sunday which does not yet exist in even the wildest imaginations.
There is no prayer, no solace, no point.
God has died.
It’s over. Finished.

The best you can do is carry on the memory.
The only remainder of belief (now all has been strung up and screwed up) is to consider that maybe his life was well lived,
And that helping the poor, and standing up for the oppressed
Was worth dying for.

God has died.
But we live still… this Friday… to do Good.

God is nowhere.
God is now here.

Then I said:

During our closing song, we invite you blow out a candle to symbolise your doubt, disbelief and atheism, and to recollect that we all find our home in Babylon, in exile, forsaken by God, without God and yet with God still.

And while we sang Pádraig ô Tuama's "Maranatha," we extinguished all the candles in the room and then I closed the service, in the dark, by saying:

At three o’clock we heard him cry a loud lament. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” I think I also heard him say, “It is finished. Go in pieces to love and serve the Lord.” Amen.

We left the room as it was... to re-light all the candles as part of the liturgy on Easter Sunday.

Forsaken by God (2)

Here's some of the material that we're using for the "Forsaken by God" Good Friday service that the "Atheism for Lent" are putting together at Journey, Birmingham, UK, tomorrow, 3pm.

Sydney Carter's "Friday Morning" will sound awesome when played by Dave, our very talented musician.



It was on a Friday morning
That they took me from the cell,
And I saw they had a carpenter
To crucify as well.
You can blame it on to Pilate,
You can blame it on the Jews,
You can blame it on the Devil,
It’s God I accuse.

Chorus: “It’s God they ought to crucify,
Instead of you and me,”
I said to the carpenter
A-hanging on the tree.

You can blame it on to Adam,
You can blame it on to Eve,
You can blame it on the apple,
But that I can’t believe.
It was God that made the Devil,
The woman and the man,
And there wouldn’t be an apple,
If it wasn’t in the plan.

Now Barabbas was a killer,
And they let Barabbas go.
But you are being crucified
For nothing here below.
But God is up in heaven
And he doesn’t do a thing,
With a million angels watching,
And they never move a wing.

“To hell with Jehovah,”
To the carpenter I said.
“I wish that a carpenter
Had made this world instead.
Goodbye and good luck to you,
Our way will soon divide.
Remember me in heaven,
The man you hung beside.”

And we'll end with Pádraig ô Tuama's "Maranatha."


Maranatha from Peter Rollins on Vimeo.


You are my strength, but I am weak
You are my strength, but I am weak
You are my strength, but I am weak
Maranatha, maranatha, maranatha.
I’ve given up some times when I've been tired
I've given up some times when I've been tired
I've given up some times when I've been tired
Does it move you? Does it move you? Does it move you?

I've fucked it up so many times
I've fucked it up so many times
I've fucked it up so many times
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

I've found my home in Babylon
I've found my home in Babylon
I've found my home in Bablyon
Here in Exile, here in Exile, here in Exile.

Forsaken by God (1)

To mark the end of the “Atheism for Lent” Course, the group is going to create a worship service for Good Friday to reflect on the content of the Course. "Forsaken by God." Remembering Jesus’ words on the Cross and God’s own atheism, this service will also help us to feel something of what God felt at the Crucifixion when God experienced the absence of God.


How might a worship service enable us to call to mind those times when we have been guilty of what these great atheist critics of religion accuse us? Of using Christianity instrumentally? To fulfil our own psychological needs, desires and wishes? To legitimise various forms of oppression and justify our social complacency? Or to enact revenge through moral superiority?

What kinds of words, acts and performances can we stage to encourage others to ask these questions?

How might a worship service allow us to recollect through liturgy and ritual our doubts and our uncertainties?

Our very real experiences of the absence of the presence of God?

Our theism, atheism and a/theism?

Thinking ahead to the "Forsaken by God" service, I came across this song, "Church of No Religion" by Ed Harcourt:



Now it’s time to readdress
What is sacred?
Are you sacred?
Are you cursed or are you blessed?
Were you created
From all this hatred?

And I don’t need a devil to change my mind
And I don’t need an angel to keep me in line
I've got my head screwed on like a nail in a cross
And I'll make my own decisions

And so the cut it overfloweth
Into the Red Sea
Into the Dead Sea
Above the mountain or deep below it
It flows as freely
As you believe me

And I don’t need a devil to change my mind
And I don’t need an angel to keep me in line
I've got my head screwed on like a nail in a cross
In the church of no religion

You would think all of your cardinal sins will stay underground
You have ruined almost everything so step down down down down down

All your money and all your faith
All your miracles and holy visions
Won’t make the world a better place
So take a pew and stop to listen

I’m tellin’ you the truth
If World War III comes soon
You’ll find me singin’ in a church
Singin’ in a church
Singin’ in a church
Of no religion

Get the scissors, cut the strings
It’s time to move on
It’s time to move on
The puppeteer is out of time
We’ve waited so long
We’ve waited so long

And I don’t need a devil to change my mind
And I don’t need an angel to keep me in line
I’ve got my head screwed on like a nail in a cross
And I’ll make my own decisions

You will think all your cardinal sins will stay underground
You’ve ruined almost everything so step down down down down down

All your money and all your faith
All your miracles and holy visions
Won’t make the world a better place
So take a pew and stop to listen

I’m tellin’ you the truth
If World War III comes soon
You’ll find me singin’ in a church
Singin’ in a church
Singin’ in a church
Of no religion

Singing in a church
Singing in a church
Singing in a church
Of no religion

Singin’ in a church, singin’ in a church
Preachin’ in a church of no religion
Singin’ in a church, livin’ in a church
Prayin’ in a church of no religion

Singin’ in a church
Singin’ in a church
Singin’ in a church
Of no religion

Atheism for Lent in Birmingham: Provisional Programme

So I've come up with a provisional programme for Journey's "Atheism for Lent" Course, which will start running on March 13th.

For the first three weeks, I'm going to write a few thousand words (probably between 3,000 and 5,000) on the work of three great atheist critics of religion: Freud (March 13th), Marx (March 20th) and Nietzsche (March 27th).

For the fourth and fifth weeks, we'll host a film viewing and discussion using Derren Brown's "Messiah" (April 3rd) and (when I'm away in Syracuse) Ricky Gervais' "The Invention of Lying" (April 10th) I'll write a little blurb for each of these sessions too.

Then we'll end with a session in the sixth week (April 17th) on Pete Rollins' notion of "a/theism" (slightly different to what I mean by "a/theism" but I'll post about that nearer the time). This final session will be something of an overview and conclusion to the Course, putting everything that we've looked at in the context of thinking about the absence of God, about the type(s) of atheism at the core of Christian theism, and especially placing this in the biblical context of God's experience on the Cross, when Jesus' "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" marks a moment in which God seems forsaken by God, when God confesses a kind of atheism and experiences the absence of the presence of God.

Hopefully we'll also end the Course with a Good Friday transformance art service - possibly entitled "Forsaken by God" - which will help us reflect on the content of the Course and on our own experiences of doubt, disbelief and the absence of the presence of God.

How to Eat Well in Church

As I begin to emerge from a just-passed-my-viva-(phew!) lull (I always tend to get a bit depressed after the excitement of finishing a piece of work, presenting a piece of work, or handing something in), I am doing my corrections (done!), writing my paper for the Edinburgh BSA SocRel conference on the Changing Face of Christianity (not done yet!), and submitting abstracts for a couple of conferences later in the year - 500 words for the International Society for Religion, Literature and Culture's "Attending to the Other" (done!) and 200 words for the "Re-Writing the Bible: Devotion, Diatribe and Dialogue" symposium, held by the University of Glasgow's Centre for the Study of Literature, Theology and the Arts (not yet done!).

My submission for the Attending to the Other conference is called, "How to Eat Well in Church: Saying 'Yes' to the Other and Becoming Nothing in Derrida, Paul and Emerging Christian Discourse." Hopefully it'll get accepted by either the Continental Philosophy of Religion or the Theology panels, but I'm also keen to work this paper into a journal article so it won't be too bad if it doesn't get accepted. Here's the abstract:

‘Let us say yes to who or what turns up, before any determination... before any identification’ (Jacques Derrida, Of Hospitality, 77).

‘Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you’ (St Paul, Romans 15:7).

‘...we can freely enter into a theatrical space in which we act as though there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female... Here we do not lay down our identity only to pick up our new identity in Christ. Rather it is in laying down all our identities that we directly identify with Christ’ (Peter Rollins, The Fidelity of Betrayal, 178-179 and peterrollins.net/blog/?p=889)

‘If a community is too welcoming, it loses its identity; if it keeps its identity, it becomes unwelcoming’ (John D. Caputo, Deconstruction in a Nutshell, 113)

For Derrida, hospitality, friendship and love are responsibilities that are excessive to the complacent fulfilment of duty. While hospitality by rights and justice under the law protect the self-same, unconditional hospitality is to attend to (to pay attention to and to serve) alterity. Similarly, for (Badiou’s) Paul, the Christian community is to welcome the other, without quarrelling about or arguing over determinations of truth. Co-implicated in this is that, in order to welcome those with different truths, that which makes the host distinctive is to be sacrificed or performatively suspended, which is why there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female (Gal. 3:28). Paul’s injunction to hospitality is occasioned by questions regarding whether or not to eat meat and what Paul calls for is the creation of communities that attend not to the question of what to eat but to the question of how to eat, which is a ‘learning-to-give-the-other-to-eat’ (Derrida, “Eating Well,” 282). The event of Jesus’ excess in relation to all law is to be translated into hospitable ecclesial spaces that attempt to let the other be other, to privilege hospitality over the temptation to conversion or consensus, to refuse to subsume the other to the self-same, and to create a space that places unconditional welcome above conditions of entrance.

The “emerging church conversation” is one contemporary discourse about Christianity that is attempting to imagine and enact such spaces. This paper introduces the discursive motifs in which this Derridean-Pauline desire to attend to the other is expressed and through which it is being performed liturgically, particularly in the work of Peter Rollins and the Belfast-based ‘transformance art’ collective, ikon. I examine the ways in which alterity is welcomed, by which a place for the other is prepared, and through which Christian community negotiates unity and difference. I raise questions of openness and the possibility of radical sociality, of kenosis and the problems of self-identity, and of how deconstructive theologies (such as John D. Caputo’s weak theology) might be ecclesiologically, ethically and politically viable for concrete collectives.

If deconstructive theology interprets the church and the world, how might deconstructive religious collectives be changing them?

Theology and the Arts Conference

I spied this conference a while ago but it took ages for more details to be forthcoming. In April (12-14th) the Society for the Study of Theology's annual conference will be hosted at Manchester University on the theme of "Theology and the Arts." The conference calls for short papers on the conference theme and seminar sessions on other topics (both 20 mins, 20 mins Q&A). The only details I can find online is this small amount of blurb:

"What is the relationship between different art forms and other modes of theological interpretation? Is art true, or subjecive, or both? What are the limitations of artistic representation? How may art be employed in teaching, whether in church or academy? What are the places of art in prayer and liturgy?"

Abstracts of about 200 words should be emailed to Oliver Crisp, who I met in Ireland last Nov, by Feb 18. There is a bursary fund, which you should also apply to via Oliver.

The cost of registration is £90, and then there are several accommodation and meal options to choose from when you log-on to the site here. Full residential is £170, with one night B&B £30. Early registration ends March 4 and the registration deadline is March 23.

I'm thinking that if I submit an abstract it will be on the "a/theology of the event" and the notion of "transformance art" in the UK emerging church milieu.

Re-emergence conference

From March 16-18 2010, the Irish School of Ecumenics, Belfast, will host "Re-emergence: Christianity and the Event of God." This is something that Pete Rollins has been involved in organising and will (very sadly) be the only UK date for his Insurrection tour.

The keynotes include Phyllis Tickle (The Great Emergence: How Christianity is Changing and Why), which I blogged about here, and Dave Tomlinson (The Post-Evangelical, Re-enchanting Christianity), vicar at my partner's Sim's brother's church, St. Luke's. Those involved in the Insurrection tour with Pete are Padraig O Tauma (Hymns to Swear By, not yet released, but also on Dubh) and Jonny McEwen (Fractured, broken, and Beautiful). Other participants includ Beki Bateson (executive director of London International Festival of Theatre, chair of Amos Trust, and co-founder of Vaux), Ian Mitchell, Kerry Anthony (Depaul Ireland), Kester Brewin (Vaux, Apple, The Complex Christ, Other: Loving Self, God and Neighbour in a World of Fractures), and Alistair Duncan (the garden, the Whitehawk Inn). There'll also be music from a "mystery musician, who we have to keep under wraps for now." Duke Special or Bono?!?

Here's some more info:

"Each new epoch in the life of the Church is born from the white-hot fires of a fundamental question, a question with the power to scorch the very ground that has previously sustained us.

"When they arise, these fundamental questions invite us to rethink what it means to be part of the body of Christ. They have nothing to do with the myriad of disagreements that exist within the shared theological horizon, but rather challenge the very horizon itself. They do not revolve around differences within and between established Christian groups but rather place into question what these groups all take for granted. They cut across what is assumed, short-circuit what is hallowed and, in doing so, appear to threaten the very essence of Christianity itself.

"Is it possible that we stand once more at the threshold of such a question; a question that holds the power to spark a rupturing and re-imagining of the present configuration of Christianity? Are there signs that some of the assumptions we have taken for granted concerning faith need to be interrogated once again?

"We hope that you can join us as we wrestle with these difficult ideas together."

Sadly, the timing of this event isn't great for me. I'm hoping to submit my thesis before the end of February and I need to have my viva before April 1 for some other reasons, so right about mid March I think I'll be biting my nails. I also can't justify the expense of getting over there what with the two of us living on my partner's teaching salary. Ho hum. I'll have to wait for an industrious American to make a dvd of the Insurrection tour... please?!?!?