There’s theory; and there is practice. We all know which, when the going gets tough, is more important.
So, I wrote a few days ago an article for the Bible Journal (to be published this weekend) about how to pray with the psalms. One of my suggestions is to be familiar with verses from, say, 10 different psalms so that they can be comfort or guides in tricky situations. Lo and behold, yesterday (which was not a good day) I needed just this. I experienced “for the waters have come up to my neck” – and it would have helped to know the reference for this quotation. Is it Shakespeare? No, it is Psalm 69.1
Reading the first 3 verses of Psalm 69 was a help, for it mixes the images of what it feels like when everything is going dangerously awry: drowning, sinking, crying, being thirsty, being unable to see. On a really “bad hair day”, it will often feel as though all the wheels are coming off the wagon. Psalm 69 shows you are not alone in having been in such a position – and indeed that we can still pray on such a day: “Save me, O God”.
Another image I value on such a day is that of being against the grain of the universe. Tuesday began badly, and every time I tried to make it better, things went awry – messages going astray, people turning up late, me turning up late, my computer going on strike (surprise, surprise) – no one’s fault, just a cross-grained day. And I find it takes courage and composure (even, faith) to remain calm, and not indulge in paranoia.
And one way of doing that is to remember that others have been there before: hence, the value of Psalm 69.1 “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck”.
I am saying this not because I want to let you know that my life is particularly hard, but partly because I am aware how tough it is for others just now. The psalms encourage us to be empathetic, to walk in one another’s shoes, to share sorrows and joys. So even if the sun is shining warmly on you today, Psalm 69 can still guide your prayers.
Oh dear! I made a mistake with my diary. I thought the next Archbishops’ Council meeting was on June 17th, instead (as it happened to be) on June 7th. Fortunately I was able to attend by simply missing half a day of my retreat. Still, with a chance to pray before I went to London, and 5 hours’ stillness at the Retreat House after I returned, it all fitted in OK. In fact, it was rather good to attend a meeting which I didn’t have to chair, and is full of highly intelligent, motivated people. Quite relaxing really!
That said, I am struggling with the language used at the Council in a number of its decision-making moments. The jargon is frequently ‘not inputs but outputs’, then ‘not outputs but outcomes’. The oft-quoted example is that of the Police Force: more investment in policing is an input; more Bobbies on the street is an output; less crime is an outcome. I wonder whether service organisations (and especially charities or voluntary bodies such as the church) have always concentrated more on inputs – perhaps because motivation matters so much (which is a marker of what you put in), whereas in businesses profits matter (which is an outcome). I am trying to learn this language, but remain to be fully convinced that something is being missed.
Nevertheless, it was an energetic meeting. I am convinced, once again, of the good will and excellent quality of many of those I meet. The Archbishop of Canterbury chairs superbly and we (generally) behave well towards each other. So I found myself puzzling over two conflicting thoughts that seem irreconcilable.
On the one hand, we seem to be making good decisions that will direct resources to the right places, improve processes, increase efficiency, motivate clergy towards church growth and institute projects that will have an impact on local communities. I find myself getting carried away at times. “Alleluia! This is good” I feel.
And then, a few moments later, I wonder what the Church of England will look like in 2016 (5 years’ time, say). In spite of all the good we are doing now, what evidence is there that the CofE 2016 will be “better” than the CofE 2011? How can we hold together a positive attitude about current activity and a realisation that things are not always getting better and better?
Is it that we live in such a fast-moving world, and that the natural “slope” of life is so tilted towards decay that if we don’t run really quite fast we will certainly go downhill?
I am not depressed or maudling. But I am puzzled. Answers on a postcard, please.
I am going to St Mary’s convent in Wantage today, until Friday, on my annual retreat. It feels good to be going back to somewhere that is very familiar to me as I do not have to learn the routine, but can slot into the habits of the house. I also have long found it very helpful to be on retreat in a house where the prayer happens routinely around me, without relying on my contribution. The sisters in Wantage will be singing the Daily Offices, whether I am praying with them or detained in my bed! Yet I will also acknowledge that one of the great draws of this house as my centre for a Retreat is that it is close to marvellous walking countryside, especially by having the Ridgeway a couple of miles away. This ancient track connects Avebury to the Thames, passing by many Stone Age monuments. This evident history connects my soul to God – I feel I am in the presence of the life and energy of the world that is far beyond my (and our) existence. Perhaps one of the things I seek on retreat is that feeling that the world can manage very well without me. It’s a humbling experience to recognise that I do not matter all that much – but also energising: I am called to recognise more clearly those things that I am particularly required to do.Yet as I write this, I also realise that something very different may happen. I cannot, and should not, plan what will happen this week. Any retreat should be something of an exploration, a time of “wait and see”.