My Other College

Yesterday I gave my first lecture in a 'proper' Oxford University college--Regent's Park, which is a Baptist 'permanent private hall' of the University. I'm affiliated there because the Oxford Centre for Ecclesiology and Practical Theology here at Cuddesdon has linked up with the Regent's Centre for Christianity and Contemporary Culture. My lecture yesterday was part of their Research Seminar in Practical Theology. I was pleased--I spoke on theology of the laity (on which we don't have much good reflection), and although the turnout was small, the discussion was lively. That's gratifying. Even if people don't agree with what you say, if they have an animated conversation about it, it shows that you've brought up a timely and relevant topic. Mission accomplished!

After a little wander in town, I returned to Regent's Park for a chapel service and the Friday evening formal dinner. Drinks for staff and their guests in the Senior Common Room, with a quite nicely done table served dinner, and then coffee back in the SCR.

It was lovely to be in a room with candles, china, and tablecloths, and where people had dressed to honour the occasion. I know a lot of people sneer at formality--I rather think it reminds us to behave like civilised adults. People do tend to rise or sink to meet the expectations set, and I'd rather rise, and I'd rather that others do, too. Additionally, it is always delightful to be in the company of people who have interesting ideas, and who want to hear the interesting ideas that you have, too.

Although I've never been to Baptist worship before in my life, it did not feel strange. It was a communion service, and although Baptists and Anglicans have different theologies of many things, there was nothing in their service that I couldn't say with a happy heart. Most especially, I liked the words of mission at the end:

Time has now come for us to leave this place.
As we do, may we embrace the challenges of our lives and of our world.

Do not try to exceed your commission.
Life is too short for grand gestures followed by self pity in the hour of failure.

Go out to serve Christ without anxiety.
Do what you can.
Entrust to others what you must.
And dedicate both your successes and your failures to the greater glory of God.

It is not a bad prayer, and easily adaptable to just about any religious tradition with the alteration of a word or two--or, with slightly different wording, to people of goodwill who do not subscribe to any theistic system of belief.

We could use more of that.

A Two-Bracelet Day

Today is, I think, a quietly happy day for the Anglican Communion--especially for those of us who are technically members of one constituent member church, but who live and work and have our being in another one, the relations between the two being shaky:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/religion/Story/0,,2014518,00.html

It does not seem to be the outcome (even if a temporary outcome) that some people expected or hoped for, but I think it is the right, good and joyful one. The work isn't finished, but it is moving in the direction that I think is pleasing to the God that all in our communion profess to love and serve. Probably to the God that a lot of people outside of this communion profess to love and serve as well. Working together through difference, rather than refusing to do so, seems spiritually more right than cutting each other off. Especially when the differences are deep, I find a greater integrity in trying to work together, even imperfectly, than in self-righteously excluding ourselves or others from the important conversations.

And so, today I wear two bracelets. The one on top was a gift from my Anglo-Celtic-Canadian-Muslim friend, who has been a bright star in my universe for 26 years. She gave it to me at a dark, faith-challenged time in my life, as a reminder of 'the links to the Divine we share'. I wear it almost every day. The regular, familiar 'three short, one long' pattern of the links reminds me of the opening motif of the Beethoven 5th Symphony--as well as reminding me of the links to the Divine, and of my links to a good and faithful friend. It is a sign of steadiness and reliability, and those things are always a comfort.

More recently, a different, newer friend gave me the bracelet in the lower part of the picture. There was no symbolic message expressed along with the gift, as there was with the other bracelet. But if humans are anything, we are beings who try to give meaning to those things and events in our lives that aren't furnished with explicit significance.

And so the less-regular, funkier, unpredictable bracelet has become a reminder to me of the unpredictable nature of how God works in our lives, both as individuals and as members of wider groupings.

There is beauty in both, and it does me good to remember that. Especially on days when the things of God go in unexpected directions. And it is good to remember that the predictable and the quirky can complete and complement each other.