The Old in the New in the Old

Over the last couple of days, I've attended two conferences - the first, on Saturday, marking the 400th anniversary of the King James Version of the Bible, held in New College, Edinburgh - the second, held today at St Silas Church in the West End of Glasgow, covered the topic of Ministering to those with Dementia. Both were excellent events and both illustrated for me the importance of recognising the old in the new in the old. One of the startling things about the KJV is that it was such a radical event in the life of the Church and, indeed, the country. We, of course, tend to look at a text from 1611 and glibly dismiss it as simply.. well, old, with all the concomitant negativity normally associated with age - crustiness, irrelevance, incomprehensibility. In our reflection on the KJV we don't tend to think of words like 'radical' or 'ground-breaking'. Such prejudice, I believe, is fuelled largely by an ignorance of history, but also by a more subtle modernist agenda (which is alive and well in our so-called post-modern world). This agenda consistently strives for definition and seeks to classify the life out of life. Function comes before Form in the modernist agenda - so the argument runs: 'It may be beautiful but if we can't understand it...' Yet, surely that is at least part of the reason why we should continue to not only honour but read the KJV. We should grapple with Scripture rather than using it as a tag-line or a slogan. I guess what I'm hinting at is that the KJV leads us to respect the mystery of faith. In this sense the old becomes new insofar as it reminds us of the daily challenge to live out this mystery. But it also offers us the lesson that newness is to be found in the old, if we choose to look for it.
The same thought occurs to me in our interaction with those with dementia, or indeed with the elderly more generally. The one lesson I learned today was to see, truly see, the person before me, and to realise the revelation (the old in the new in the old) that can be traced in the most unlikely of places. This is summed up so beautifully in a poem by Christina de Luca:



The wilderness within you has been stripped:
only the graininess is left.
Yet so much intact,
despite erosion of that sense of self;
so much remaining
which can cross the chasms
when words get in the way of knowing
a touch, a smile –
with your engrained benevolence
you make me mindful of what humanness entails.
You have no cogent thought, and yet
your muddled words
are full of thoughtfulness.


I sing for you, and wonderfully
you join in, add harmony.


          Then shall the tongues of the dumb sing
          for in the wilderness shall waters break out,
          and streams in the desert.


I feel as Moses must have felt
striking the rock.