Longing for Repetition

One of my favourite novelists and literary critics, the Czech, Milan Kundera, once wrote: ‘Happiness is the longing for repetition’. On the face of it, such a definition could imply a rather dreary form of existence. Surely happiness is to be found in variety and not monotony? Surely happiness is multi-coloured and not monochrome? I’m not so sure. The postmodern drive toward a multifarious experience of life can, if we are not careful, lead to disappointment and anxiety. Successive governments have unfortunately jumped on to this particular philosophical bandwagon and have trumpeted the importance of choice, without having any clear idea of when or if that choice can actually be exercised. Choice in and of itself is, of course, not a bad thing, as the Arab Spring reminds us, but  when choice becomes an end in itself, then the question of meaning is not far behind. What is the point of all this choice?

This is why, I reckon, Kundera touches on a fundamental aspect, perhaps the fundamental aspect of what it means to be human. If nothing else, the exercise or experience of repetition relates to a desire for security. And though Kundera would not describe himself as a Christian, this leads naturally to the area of faith. Terry Eagleton, the Marxist and recently un-lapsed Catholic literary critic makes an important point about  the relationship between faith and choice:

Faith - any kind of faith - is not in the first place a matter of choice. It is more common to find oneself believing something than to make a conscious decision to do so - or at least to make such a conscious decision because you find yourself leaning that way already. This is not, needless to say, a matter of determinism. It is rather a matter of being gripped by a commitment from which one finds oneself unable to walk away.

    Reason, Faith and Revolution: Reflections on the God Debate 

 Without getting into any kind of rarefied or protracted debate about freewill and predestination (which would be to miss the point anyway), Eagleton reminds us that our choice for God is not a choice in the same sense as  the choice of side dish I’d like with my steak, or even, dare I say it, my choice of life partner. He is suggesting that somehow or other we lean towards God (or indeed lean away from God). And it is this ‘leaning towards’ which I would connect with this fundamental desire for security – if you like, the desire for home.

This is all the more evident when we realise that the Latin root of our word ‘repeat’ is ‘repetere’ which means ‘to seek again’. There is a sense that our relationship with God is always inevitably ‘a seeking again’. And this is the irony about this particular repetition, this seeking again—it is always new. We can never claim to have ‘made it’. Our seeking after God is a seeking for security in the sure knowledge that it is a journey that is never completed and it is one that offers us ever-changing insights into who we are as individuals, and as a church.

A good example of this would be the St Margaret's Vestry Away Day which was held recently on Cumbrae. It would be difficult for any of us who were there to say that we learned anything that was obviously new. But it was in the rehearsing, the repetition of the already known (and therefore so easily taken for granted) which made the two days we spent together so memorable and worthwhile. It is in the rediscovery of the obvious that we find ourselves renewed.

So at the risk of repeating myself, repetition is no bad thing. After all, it would appear that this is part of the Spirit’s work in us:

But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.

                                                                                          (John 14: 26)

Song of Songs

At St Margaret's this morning, we had the great pleasure and privilege of welcoming Revd Maria Ottensten and the choir of Örgryte Parish in Gothenburg, Sweden. Maria very kindly offered to preach and the choir sang a couple of pieces for us. It was especially moving to hear Swedish songs which obviously meant so much to the choir themselves. It provided evidence once again of the power of music to transcend barriers of language and nationality. We were all Swedish this morning. Which is another way of saying that we were all one. It's good when that happens occasionally in church, where, on Good Shepherd Sunday, we are reminded that there is to be one flock and one Shepherd.

New Year, New Church and the Academy Website

Not Karl Barth

For those of you who might not know, I'm involved with a group known as the Church and the Academy (no, it's not a cult!) We meet monthly during term time in the Theology Dept. of the University of Glasgow to hear and discuss what is going on in the multifarious aspects of the theological world. I see it as not just an important therapeutic tool to keep the brain ticking over, but an important reminder of the connection between the disciplines of pastoral and intellectual endeavour. It is far too easy to say that what we learned at theological college has no substantial bearing in the 'real world'. Such an attitude (which I confess, I have been tempted to indulge) merely betrays an unmerited suspicion of the critical aspect of theological study. In its extreme form the argument runs: We ought to know what we believe (2 Timothy 1: 12) and any attempt to critique that belief is tantamount to replacing faith with rational argument.

This argument (if it is an argument) ignores verses 13 and 14 of the same chapter in Timothy which eloquently speaks of guarding the good treasure, i.e. sound teaching, of the faith. Some people take this guarding to the point where the treasure is invisible to all but the one holding it. They become like Gollum holding on tightly to his 'precious' and prepared to kill any who would dare even look at it the wrong way... Okay, that does sound kind of cultist, but you get the point. It is far too easy to hold on tightly to what we believe to be the fundamentals of life (creating, by the way, a fist in the process) thinking that we are doing God or the Faith a favour. The reality is that God is big enough to look after God. Wasn't it Luther who said, "Defend the Bible, I'd sooner defend a lion!?" The 'guarding' Paul is asking of Timothy is grounded in the experience of sharing the faith by the help of the Holy Spirit in us. We are to be channels rather than curators of faith. And that is where theological reflection has a vital role to play.