David Butler

Luther and Calvin: Religious Revolutionaries
Charlotte Methuen
Lion Hudson
£9.99

I approached this book with a mixture of enthusiasm and apprehension; the former out of an interest to learn more of “the Reformed tradition”, and the latter from a sense of academic inadequacy. My fears were quickly dispelled as this book is written in very accessible language and assumes little prior knowledge of the subject. Charlotte Methuenís academic career (see www.charlotte-methuen.de) leaves no doubt about her authority.

This is an excellent introduction to the lives and ideas of two of the world’s greatest theologians and to their lasting impact on the Christian church and its socio-political context. It begins with a brief description of the church as it was in about 1500, when there was no choice for a Christian in Western Europe in such matters as belief and public worship. By the early 1520s, significant cracks were appearing in this uniformity as a result of Martin Lutherís 95 theses and their interpretation – and misinterpretation by other church leaders who were keen for change. As the story unfolds, the scriptural and theological flesh is added to the Lutheran concepts of free will, grace and salvation and to phrases such as “justification by faith through grace alone” and “the priesthood of all believers”. Luther’s exchanges with other Reformation giants, such as Erasmus, help to explain the early development of the Reformation in the German Empire.

Born in France, a whole generation later than Luther, John Calvin was theologically educated in an environment that had resisted Luther’s influence. Indeed, Luther’s writings were condemned by the Sorbonne. Charlotte Methuen shows how Calvin’s early life and his conversion to Reformed beliefs led to his flight from France, his encounters with other Reformers and his influential ministries in Strasbourg and Geneva; both driving forces of the Reformation. She explores the development of Calvin’s theology, forged through study of scripture, and his doctrine of the church with particular reference to the two sacraments and to church government and its distinction from civil government. Here is the source of much of the practice and language with which we are familiar as Protestants today.

David Butler is a United Reformed Church elder and a member of St John the Baptist Parish Church, Crowthorne

Wise and encouraging advice for supporting depressed Christians

Ruth Allen

Encountering Depression: Frequently asked questions, answered for Christians
Andrew and Elizabeth Procter
SPCK
£8.99

It is notoriously difficult for anyone who, like me, has never experienced depression, to understand and empathise with a depressed person. Yet, depression is such a common feature of modern society that it behoves all of us with a pastoral heart to discover what can be said and done to help. Reading Revd Andrew and Dr Elizabeth Procterís book is a good move in this direction.

The authors’ credentials are impressive: Andrew Procter is an Anglican clergyman and trained counsellor with experience in the healing ministry; his wife Elizabeth is a consultant psychiatrist and writer. They aim their book at helping any Christian believer who is depressed, recognising that the condition poses even more problems for the Christian than the non-Christian.

The book consists of 20 short chapters, each answering the sort of question a depressed person may ask. The chapters are broken up into even shorter sections for information (explanations and resource details), inspiration (anecdotes and stories to give hope), meditation (appropriate extracts of scripture), and perspiration (simple actions). It is easy to read, and beautifully gentle, with sound wisdom, a little humour and lots of encouragement. The final two chapters are for helpers and church leaders and will be found invaluable by those people.

As a result of reading this book, I am not sure that I am any clearer about the root causes of depression; however, I think I find it now not quite so impossible to imagine what depression might feel like; and I’m certain that, if I experience depression for myself or have a friend or family member who develops it, I now have a far greater understanding of how to help. Encountering Depression could be read by all Christians who have a pastoral role, with great benefit to their ministry and to the people they learn to help.

Ruth Allen is a retired United Reformed Church minister and member of Ilkeston URC, Derbyshire

Honest analysis about doubting God

Ruth Whitehead

God Lost and Found
John Pritchard
SPCK
£9.99

John Pritchard is Bishop of Oxford, so perhaps not the sort of person you expect to find admitting to serious doubts about God. But, in this book he does admit to having his own doubts, and spends time exploring what sorts of doubts modern people might have. He then tries to address the question of what we can do to “find” faith again. Despite the seriousness of its subject, it is not a difficult read, and deals with an important question for many of us, at some point or another. As the author himself puts it: “God has gone absent – now what?”

I thought part one of the book (entitled “Why?”) was a worthwhile attempt to describe why and how a believer might lose touch with God. Although he refers to his own time of difficulty in faith, it would have helped me to feel that the book had more autobiographical depth. The questions rang true ñ the difficulties of living in a scientific world, the boredom of years of church going, the difficulties faced by older congregations who are losing touch with the younger generation, and so on ñ but I felt this was rather a clinical analysis, and lacked feeling and personal involvement.

Even so, by the time I came to part two, “New Beginnings”, I was agreeing strongly with all that he said and was yearning for some suggestions about how to handle these difficult times in the Christian faith. The book does contain some practical suggestions for how to get back in touch with God, such as: enjoying the natural world, slowing down our lives and connecting with life through the arts. These are fine as far as they go, but again, I was left wanting more.

The good news is that if you, like me, read this book and want to know more, John Pritchard includes enough quotations from other writers to help you form quite a list of other books to help you continue your search for “new beginnings”. This is an honest introduction to a difficult subject.

Ruth Whitehead is a United Reformed Church minister at the Whittlesford/Pampisford ecumenical partnership and Duxford URC in South Cambridgeshire

Interesting memoir of a “barmy bishop”

Alex Klaushofer

Leaving Alexandria: A Memoir of Faith and Doubt
Richard Holloway
Canongate Books
£17.99 (Hardback)

It is often said that in western society we don’t listen enough to the wisdom that the old have gathered over a lifetime. So how much more can be learnt from someone who has spent a life practising and thinking about faith?

In Leaving Alexandria, Richard Holloway, now 78, tells the story of his life from its monastic beginnings to his promotion, courtesy of the tabloids, to the nation’s “barmy bishop”. Part memoir, part meditation, the book is on one level, a critical insider’s account of the established church as it struggles to accommodate the forces of liberalism and conservatism. But the more interesting narrative is the personal story of one man’s lifelong attempt to give expression to the sense of ìlatencyî or transcendence that haunts those of a religious sensibility.

It’s a search that takes Holloway from his native Scotland at the age of 14 to join an Anglican religious order in Kelham, subsequently rejecting celibacy in favour of marriage and a more outwardly-focused life in the priesthood. Over the course of a long career, he works for social justice in impoverished Glasgow – in one flat, 67 people share a toilet – and, dabbling in Pentecostalism, learns to speak in tongues. His drive and articulacy win him job offers in Scotland, England and America. He publishes prolifically. Finally, increasingly outspoken about his unorthodox theology and the rights of women and gay people, he resigns as Bishop of Edinburgh in 2000.

Looking back over this chequered spiritual career, Holloway is nothing if not clear-eyed. In a series of impressive self-critiques, he slams the “facile books” of his early writing, comparing his facility for “posturing” on the church stage unfavourably with the “uncomplicated goodness” of less religious personalities. His restlessness eventually emerges as the conviction that the certainties of belief are not truly available to us; rather, faith and doubt go hand-in-hand.

Holloway concludes that religion is a human creation, while maintaining a “reverent agnosticism” about the big questions. It’s a perspective increasingly in tune with the times, and one that may also signal the beginning rather than the end of a journey.

Alex Klaushofer is a freelance journalist currently writing a book about changing faith in Britain

A book I will remember by Keith Havers

The Inner Christ by John Main, first published by Darton, Longman and Todd, 1987

This book comprises of three previously-published works about meditation. The author, a Benedictine monk, made a lasting contribution to the rediscovery of this ancient form of prayer, stemming from Christian and Eastern traditions. Many in differing branches of the church have found meditation to be right for them.

This collection is illuminative, instructive, practical, and one to which ñ on returning time and again – yields fresh insights and inspiration. Meditation creates a silence, providing structure through discipline in the search “for depth and rootedness in Christ”.

The meditative path is simple: sit in a chair, becoming aware of God within and around. Then, in a relaxed manner, begin to repeat inwardly a chosen prayer-word, such as: Jesus, love, joy or peace. Main recommends the Aramaic maranatha, meaning “Come, Lord Jesus” (Rev 22:20); if you choose this, repeat it as four syllables of equal length, ma-ra-na-tha. If possible, meditate between 20 and 30 minutes morning and evening. The meditator is likely to become aware of intrusive thoughts and sounds. Gently bring the mind back to the meditation. It is important to meditate for the whole time set apart.

The benefits of this form of prayer become apparent after much perseverance: the fruit of the Spirit set down in Galatians chapter five. Gradually the ego is melted, leading to inner cleansing, integration, and wholeness.

Whilst a chief aim of meditation is to know God and to reflect God in our lives, others can be helped by bringing them believingly, lovingly into the realm of God’s healing presence. Such a ministry requires discipline and long practice, but it is the outcome of a request put to Jesus in the spirit of Luke 11:1: “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Keith Havers is a retired United Reformed Church minister

The view was impressive and beautiful, but I didn’t think it was life changing. So I took some photos and got on with my day. It was only later, sitting on the tube, that I began to feel the impact of what I’d seen. I’d stared at that garden view hundreds of times before, but it took a unique sunrise to see it as I had done that morning. Soon I was thinking about how much God’s light can alter our own perspective on life, how a situation that we have considered to be set or unmoveable can be altered in an instant when we let God in. That’s when the lyrics came:

The world comes alive, you have opened my eyes, everything I see is in colour/ No more black and white because I’ve see the light, everything I see is in colour.

What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus? Doesn’t it mean in some way that we allow our eyes to be opened? Doesn’t it mean that we are ready to see the world differently, to let our vision to be directed by God’s Spirit? Doesn’t it mean seeing it in colour – being open to the full range of possibilities, opportunities, needs and challenges that God has created us for?

These are strange times we’re living in. What with all this talk of double-dip recessions, freaky weather patterns and overseas revolutions it can be tempting to retreat to what is safe and what is known. In other words, we can think we’ll feel a little more secure if we see things in black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. But seeing the world in black and white isn’t what we’re called to. Jonah put the people of Nineveh firmly in a box and refused to believe that God would see things differently. He could not stand the thought of God showing mercy to those he feared. But God saw in colour.

In times like these – especially at times like these – when so much around us seems to be struggling and some are trying to tell us that there is no hope, we have to hold on to the hope we have that in Christ. We have to remember that In Him we are made whole, we see life with fresh perspective and we experience fullness of life. We have to remember to look at things in colour.

Ben Cantelon

Imagine Mary – experiencing
Daily growth of body and mind,
Spirit-filled, as pangs of joy
Leap in her heart.
Mysteriously,
Saintly doubts dissolve
Humble sincerity
Blossoms anew -
Mary’s Spring-time.

Here, amid weeping bluebells,
Soaked by fresh rain;
With the treasured magnolia dying again
At Holmhurst St Mary
We recalled Mary’s joy.
As silence fell,
Truth was revealed
For Spring moves toward Summer
As we keep close to Jesus
Like Mary did.

Seeds of contentment are nurtured;
Mirrored here in the dank, misty garden
With one solitary Wistaria bud waiting to bloom.
Each palest petal, perfectly formed
Anticipates warmth from the hidden sun.
Every branch bursting anew -
Promised sequel to Easter, signalling Summer;
Healing and wholeness barely begun.

Wendy Whitehead

I had not appreciated the relationship between mountain valley geology and the formation of coal, which is accessible from the valley floor. The more I learned about the industrial, social and religious heritage of this part of Wales, the more tangibly each scene seemed imbued, even for a fleeting visitor like myself, with living history.

Nonconformist chapels and churches sprung up like mushrooms during the 19th century as the mining industry grew. Amid the extraordinary harshness of life for colliers and their families, people found time to attend grassroots chapel meetings where they could explore other experiences. Here was a medium for learning, self-expression, social togetherness, spiritual and political discovery and mutual support.

It seems the camaraderie among small groups, who worked to keep life and soul together in the mine, was channelled into often immensely beneficial educational and welfare ventures outside. For a time, the chapels became social and cultural centres for whole mining communities, before their influence declined, despite a short period of revival, in the early 20th century.

It’s hard to reconcile this intense chapter in the history of the churches with what most of us have now, but it served to remind me of the preciousness of what remains, as well as to remind me that revivals can happen again.

The Mission Council meeting I referred to earlier was an upsetting one for many people – recommendations for painful expenditure cuts were agreed in the face of frightening realities about membership and income decline; a moderator-elect resigned; the denomination’s ambitious radical welcome campaign of Zero Intolerance, which has involved such vision, courage and hard work from so many people, was abandoned (though churches are being encouraged and supported to continue the journey individually). A number of delegates found themselves in tears.

The church is fragile, and broken in places – but it is still alive and doing so much in so many communities around our three nations. We are part of a precious tradition worth preserving and nurturing.

I would like to thank the congregation of Gilwern United Reformed Church near Abergavenny for the friendly and most uplifting welcome I received during their lovely Easter Sunday service. I wasn’t there as a mystery worshipper but, Gilwern URC, had I been, you would have earned full marks. Thank you!

Symon Hill contends that our relationship with money has become a form of idolatry

The surprising thing about politicians is not that they are always arguing. What’s surprising is how much they agree with each other.

Think of the budget. Politicians poured into studios for vociferous arguments. But their debates were very narrow. Few questioned the economic system itself. When inequality was mentioned, it led to talk of “social mobility” – allowing a few of the poor to become better off. It was a far cry from the Occupy camps. One of the biggest home-made banners outside St Paul’s Cathedral read simply “Abolish Money”.

Such ideas are dismissed as unrealistic. Many of them may be so, but it’s hard to know if we refuse even to examine them. Any system can be defended by those who dismiss all alternatives as “unrealistic”. The abolition of slavery, votes for women and racial equality have all been labelled “unrealistic”.

“It is possible to enjoy the ceremony, enjoy the music, even though one does not necessarily believe”

Justin Brierley and James Orr meet bestselling author Alain de Botton

It’s said you can tell a lot about someone by the books they keep in their house. Meeting Alain de Botton, I’m more interested in knowing whether his house reflects the books he’s written. De Botton is the bestselling author of a range of practical “philosophy of everyday life” titles, including The Architecture of Happiness and The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work – books that are a practical guide to the space we inhabit and the way we live our lives.

As I had expected, the house is a minimalist affair – like the man himself, uncluttered and tidy. Significantly, although de Botton is an atheist, a large picture of the ceiling of King’s College chapel in Cambridge is the centrepiece of the living room. It’s a clue to his latest project, a book titled Religion for Atheists. Tired of the anti-religious polemic from atheism’s most well-known voices, he is encouraging non-believers to see that religion is not all bad; in fact, there’s a lot going for it.

“Rather than mocking religions, agnostics and atheists should instead steal from them – because they’re packed with good ideas,” says de Botton. He’s even gone as far as suggesting there should be “temples for atheists”, and has raised money towards such a building in central London. For his less ecumenical brethren, this is tantamount to heresy. Richard Dawkins has said: “Atheists don’t need temples”, and “there are better things to spend the money on”, while de Botton has received hate mail and worse from other angry atheists in response.

De Botton grew up in a militantly secularist environment – his father would not let the family celebrate Christmas, so strongly did he feel about the evils of religion. Maybe it’s a form of rebellion, for while he hasn’t embraced faith, de Botton now seems to enjoy gently teasing those who represent his father’s joyless attitude. “You have to love Dawkins for his sheer grumpiness,” he chuckles. “Many atheists have failed to recognise that the school, the library and the railway station are not going to be enough to satisfy some of the more complex inner longings of human beings.”

In contrast to his grumpier counterparts, de Botton exudes a Zen-like calm in his manner (and is impeccably polite with it too). He seems genuinely interested in listening, learning and having a constructive conversation with people of faith. Nonetheless, many Christians, as well as atheists, think his project is doomed to failure. His critics, notably the literary academic Terry Eagleton, find his pick-and-mix approach to religion’s goodies patronising, a middle-class sanitisation of the radical nature of Christian discipleship.

For de Botton, his concern is helping people with life on a day-to-day level. “Eagleton wants a revolution,” he says. “But I align myself with the vision of Christianity which is about the heroics of daily life where the real battles are fought and won.” To do that, there may be lessons that anyone, atheists included, can learn from the reflective tradition, transcendent ritual, and community life of religion.

Growing up did you ever consider faith, or believing in God?

I grew up in a very secular, albeit Jewish, household. I think people tend to be quite loyal to their background and in a sense I have remained loyal to my own background as an atheist and not really strayed from that.

But you aren’t anti-religious like some “new atheists”?

It strikes me that the argument about whether one should or shouldn’t believe is a slightly nonsensical one; I don’t believe people choose their faith or lack of it by rational means. I think it is rather like gender; you either do or don’t fancy a particular gender, so trying to talk someone into liking or not liking a gender is futile.

Much more interesting is what one might have to say about the other side. The origins of my book has its roots in doubts about the militant, aggressive atheism that says religion is a kind of insanity, or soft-headedness. I can’t help thinking that there are things about religion that are deeply useful to people’s journey through life, and that atheists would be well advised to be aware of religion to understand themselves better.

Christians have their churches, and you’ve called for atheists to develop their own places of reflection and even raised funds for an installation in London.

Very unhelpfully, I said that you could call these places “temples for atheists”. It was rather intriguing as I received about a million emails the very next minute by some panicked atheists who spoke in very personal terms of the sense of betrayal they would feel, if this were to occur. The complaint was “this will make atheism seem like a religion” and that is what they hated. So, perhaps “an artistic intervention” or a “contemplative space” might be a better description?

“Zero Intolerance has catapulted the debate on ‘radical welcome’ from a nice little churchy discussion into a living, breathing journey”

Simon Peters – a former steering group member for the United Reformed Church Zero Intolerance (ZI) campaign of radical welcome, which was recently discontinued, sets out his reaction to the news of its demise

ZI was a rollercoaster of a journey. It has left all of us who worked on it with unimaginably high memories of peaks and triumphs, but also, no doubt, some very deep bruising and wounds, with struggles and clashes which will take a very long time to get over. And now, there is a sense of deflation that everything we worked towards, a campaign that would be hard-hitting, relevant and would speak to the hearts of the most vulnerable, has been simply thrown away in a bin bag.

But it isn’t true. ZI has catapulted the debate on “radical welcome” from a nice little churchy discussion into a living, breathing journey. The church has been forced to seriously examine the welcome it offers. If we hadn’t taken the risks we did, if we hadn’t chosen the words we did, if we hadn’t been as controversial as we were – all of the wonderful resources, materials, training and models which we produced would never have even been imagined.

Here in Amsterdam, where I am currently part of the Mission House community run by the Council for World Mission, the most important thing I am learning is that you need to go out there, you need to be with God’s people on the edges of society if you are to truly show them that your love, your care, your welcome to them is real and genuine. Because it is only in your encounter that you will recognise God in them – not just in theory, but in practice – and be able to see, understand and execute the practical work needed to allow a church that is truly for all, to come into existence.

We have to do everything we can to promote the continuation of this Christ-led journey. We owe it to the church and to ourselves; but above all, to God and those of his people who are most in need of it. The danger now is that we will hold the aspiration of radical welcome internally, having rejected the opportunity to say it in ways which the most vulnerable and neglected would have not only understood, but accepted as genuine, in a sea of lip-service and sweet talk.

I cannot hide my sadness at the fact that this public sharing will not happen at this time. But I can see, from the reaction of Mission Council and other bodies, that now is clearly not the time for the URC to make use of this gritty and hard-hitting campaign. While I am more than delighted to hear that the theme of radical welcome still has full backing, I am very concerned that, like so many things before it, the concept will slowly disappear into the abyss of distant memory. We must guard against radical welcome becoming a church exercise to be written-up and forgotten, instead of a fully-conscious and honest analysis of ourselves and our communities, who we are, what we say, what we mean, what we communicate and what we do. Let us truly embrace the fact that ZI has catapulted this debate into the lively, relevant and full frenzy of activity that it now is and use that to really find out, together, what radical welcome is all about.

Finally, all I want to say is this. When a homeless person walks into your Sunday Service, a drug addict into your church café, or an ex-offender into your community event, don’t patronise them or offer sympathy. Show them that you are truly open to receiving them, listening to their story and seeking to have them and their journey as part of the life and journey of your community. If we all really give of everything we have in working towards this, even if we don’t always succeed, we will move a few steps closer. Blessings to ALL in Christ!

Simon Peters is a former member of the Zero Intolerance steering group, an MA graduate in theology and religious studies from the University of Glasgow, and currently a member of the CWM (Council for World Mission) Mission House community in Amsterdam

http://missionhouse.nl

Amid the uncertainties of life and meaning, Resurrection faith compels us to love the world anyway, says Peter Rollins in this extract from his new book, Insurrection

For the believer who passes through the Christian experience, God is no longer related to as an object out there. Rather, God is affirmed only through a passionate participation in life itself.

This means that we can no longer claim that we know God while hating our neighbour. Those who have taken part in the event of Conversion (participation in Crucifixion and Resurrection) cannot claim to believe in God except insofar as love emanates from them, transforming the world within which they are embedded.

In other words, the claim I believe in God is nothing but a lie if it is not manifest in our lives, because one only believes in God insofar as one loves.

In the Resurrection faith testified to in the New Testament, the question Do you believe in God? is transformed and now involves the very being of the one asking the question. As such it can be rendered in this way: Is your entire being caught up in a commitment to embracing the world? In Christianity, to believe in God means nothing other than to be the site where love is born, where to find the courage to affirm the world and live fully into it.

So for the Christian, a new range of answers to the question Do you believe in God? arises. Answers such as, I aspire to, ask my friends, or more importantly, talk to my enemies.

Stan Hazell reports on how a community shop on a street of boarded-up outlets in Merseyside is contributing to the regeneration of the area and supporting local people

Standing opposite a row of shuttered and empty buildings, the Seaforth Community Shop on Merseyside is a ray of hope in a deprived area in need of regeneration. A second-prize winner in the United Reformed Church/Congregational & General Community Awards in 2010, the shop is proving a continuing lifeline for an increasing number of local people who go there not just for the free clothes and books on offer, but for a chance to talk and share their problems.

Launched six years ago on the inspiration of Lynne Higgins, a member of the Caradoc Mission Community Church just up the road, the shop has become a focus for the community far beyond providing for the basic needs of local people.

“We wanted to help those people in need,” says Lynne. “But part of the vision was also to try and improve the footfall in the village by encouraging more people to the area and attracting more shops.”

‘I believe we can enable each other to venture out, discovering what God wants us to be and do’

My parents are old-school Jamaican, so I was brought up in the church. As a child, there didn’t seem to be space for questioning in matters of faith, but by my teens I was wrestling with disbelief. I was okay with God, but struggled with concepts of an eternal hell, literal Bible interpretations, and judgment of people who believe or behave differently to ourselves. I started drifting – desperately wanting certainty, but unable to ignore the things which increasingly didn’t make sense.

I left the church in my mid-20s when I became an unmarried mother – I simply couldn’t reconcile all the bits in my head. After a few years in a “nowhere” place, I found my way to High Cross United Reformed Church in Tottenham – the closest church to my house! At High Cross, I learned that questioning faith – and even questioning God – is okay. It was at High Cross that I developed a faith of my own.

For most of my life, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do as a career. At High Cross, I found myself drawn into various aspects of church life, and I remember thinking: “I finally know what makes me tick; I want to work for the church!” I reckon that was God doing his “mysterious bit”, because shortly afterwards, the post of part-time ministry enabler became vacant.