[ hold :: this space ]

i mentioned in an earlier post that we’re curating a basement space for christmas this year. just to clarify, the space is open to everyone, but I’m not putting details up here because we want to keep track of who’s coming - and we want to send you an invitation in the mail! please email if you’d like one - and if you’ve already emailed, the invitation’s on its way…

And of course, if you’re wanting to be part of creating these spaces, let me know. A group of us meet once a month to have a drink together, and plan the spaces, and there’s always space for another around the table. We’re taking the spaces into another direction next year which is going to be brilliant…

[for a space in Benalla in a couple of weeks... we're going to explore waiting through the characters in the advent story... this will need work if we're going to use it - i like the idea more than the execution]

what was it like for you, god,
when you were waiting for your child to be born?

did you like awake at night
overawed by the miracle of life,
overwhelmed by what was to come?

did you wonder if you were up to the task -
if you’d know what to do
when he ran away
when he was cheeky or outright rude
when he defied authority

or did you think no child of yours would ever dare behave that way?

did you practice conversations, plan the wisdom you would share?
did you wonder if you’d let him think differently to you?
did you pray for the strength to let him teach you too?

did you despair at the pain your child would be born into
and grieve the limits of your protection?

did the world become infinitely more precious
and overwhelmingly fearsome
all at once?

did you worry you might not love him?
did you wonder how you would be able to ever let him go?

did it change you, god, this waiting?
how are you different because of this birth?

i’m planning some sacred spaces for christmas at the moment, for a variety of contexts and ‘audiences’. today was my big day to make it happen - almost meeting free, working from home, a whole day to get inspired, and pull it together. It’s 3.30 and all i have is a dozen less ideas than i did at this time yesterday. luckily, i know it’s like this every christmas, so i’m not panicked. though maybe i need the panic. either that or gin.

and instead of being a place where we talk about these things, describe them so you don’t miss them when they happen, it would be nice if it was a place to encounter these things, so we go away different… so i started thinking about the wishlist, what i really wanted for christmas… in a space, and really, just in general…

light
a moment of knowing that this night is not all there is
and not all there will be

hope
an encounter with the kind of hope that captivates our imagination
so we can’t help but become more than who we thought we were,
and find ourselves living for something that is all at once
preposterous and impossible

peace
- world peace -
predictable, i guess, and unlikely
so perhaps a smaller moment would do
- just a sign that we want war to stop enough
to relinquish the satisfaction of the moral high ground
to give up our easy stereotypes and caricatures
of nations and people

[to know that any label
Israeli
or Palestinian
Iraqi
Muslim
Jew
Christian
witch
gay
straight
paedophile
murderer
evangelical
liberal
progressive
is never enough
to do justice to anyone

but i digress]

joy
to experience a moment it’s real,
when the theory becomes sacrament,
where we wonder what just happened then…

[That’s all i want for christmas

though i acknowledge
that i’d be happy to settle for less
like those earrings with the origami birds, a le creuset casserole, or the new augie march cd

and perhaps therein lies the problem…]

I’m back from holidays, which were very lovely and all too short… The time between getting back from the UK and going on leave was pretty relaxed, but that’s well and truly over now…

I spent the week in Adelaide, mostly hibernating and doing the family thing, but I did have dinner one night with Sarah and Michelle, who were both part of this year’s UK trip. Over the last few years Sarah has been organising Black Wood Jazz, which is ‘an alternative style ‘church’ space in which to enjoy live jazz and thought provoking stories and conversation’. She sent me through the following information about the next evening:

Kick off Christmas with an event that can be as kicked back, or stimulating as you make it. 6.00-8.30pm on 30 November 2008

BYO picnic, folding chairs, (and a table if you are that way inclined), cold drinks, friends, neighbours and good conversation to Christmas under the stars in the Blackwood Uniting Church carpark (At the Roundabout, 266 Main Road Blackwood, Adelaide).

Hot drinks available for gold coin donation.

Enjoy the smooth sounds of Daniel lee and Friends. Enjoy cool company – bring your own if you aren’t to sure about ours. We will unwrap some stories of hope too as the evening gives way to stars.

Donations will be collected to support Blackwood Jazz and the Christmas Bowl Appeal

And a couple of other Melbourne based things coming up:

We’re hosting a pre-christmas space in the basement on December 7. It’s invitation only, so let me know if you want to be invited!

I’m leading a workshop tomorrow on Psalms at the ‘Preaching in the Year of David and Mark’ conference. Hope to see some of you there.

NCYC is happening again in January. It’s not too late to register… Shane Claiborne is speaking, along with a host of others. I’m leading some electives and am involved in worship one evening [but don't let that stop you from registering...]. It should be a great week.

I think i’ve mentioned before that we’re rethinking our approach to basement spaces over the next year [if you're new to the blog, we use the basement carpark at my office in Melbourne's city centre, and curate sacred spaces and art installations in the space]. Previously we’ve created spaces around the different church seasons, but from next year we’re going to shape the spaces around a more secular calendar. We’ll curate a space for Valentine’s Day, another on the winter solstice [which is in June in the southern hemisphere], another on the summer solstice [our christmas - where we may even avoid the christmas theme completely].

I think ‘the public’ [cf 'the private'?] are interested in / intrigued by / gasping for an encounter with a story that speaks of life and light, and that many resonate with a christian version of that story… but they want their engagement with the christmas story, for example, to be very different than that. I don’t know that the church will reclaim christmas from its nostalgic home easily [and since many churches were complicit in the process of creating its nostalgia, we might not have a right to try!]. Rather than fight that battle, we’ve decided we’re going to try Valentine’s Day, the solstices - perhaps something like Hiroshima Day as well - as moments to explore themes of life, darkness, fear, hope, love, grief…

I’ve mentioned before that a group of us are meeting once a month to talk about spaces [and life, imagination, faith and creativity]. We’re using that time to do the broad brushstrokes of planning - and anyone is welcome, of course. But I’d hate to preclude people from being involved in the basement project just because they might not want to get involved in a group like this on an ongoing way. So if you’re interested in being part of one of the spaces, or in talking about how you might be involved in other ways, let me know…

Unlike the hand forgeries which preceded lithography, photography, film and audio recording, [Walter] Benjamin argues that the nineteenth and twentieth centuries placed art in an era of mechanical reproduction, which necessarily changes our perception of art itself. In particular, Benjamin argues that the “aura” of an original, “the essence of all that is transmissible from its beginning, ranging from its substantive duration to its testimony to the history which it has experienced” is depreciated and lost in the reproduction. Further, the authentic work of art had its original value in ritual, and what mattered was the fact of its existence (visible to the spirits) not its display before man. In the age of reproduction, however, art is intended precisely for its own exhibition since the place of its birth, such as a temple or sacred site, is irrelevant when it can be copied and placed in any context; thus an alternative cult ‘the “theology of art” for the sake of art’ is born.

from here, exploring Walter Benjamin’s book ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’

i’ve been playing around with a few ideas about next year’s UK trip today. they’re still consolidating, but they’re based in the belief that we need to be finding new ways of offering encounters with stories that are bigger than our own - and that doing that is at least as important a conversation for the church to have as what new communities of faith might look like.

i’ve been thinking about who communicates the essence of faith best to people who are disinterested or disenchanted with Christianity; about who offers a moment of hope, peace, redemption, grace to the world, and who enters into the world’s agony, tragedy, ecstasy. it’s largely artists, musicians and poets. we know that, alt worship emerged from that reality. but often, even in alt worship, we’re simply using art as a way of explaining what we already know and what we think others should believe [the same theology in a different wrapping].

i’ve been reading a lot about the process of creativity recently, mostly interviews with artists and authors. so many of them talk about not knowing when they begin how something they create will end. the shape is uncovered in its making. the artwork’s creation is a revelation, and the artist is shaped by the artwork as much as the artwork is shaped by the artist. i know that my theology and shape has been changed dramatically since i started to write about it [someone told me once that i would believe anything if it made good poetry, and there's more than a little truth in that]. i wonder if it’s one of the reasons why anything beyond straight descriptive art is so terrifying to many christians. - that, and that we lose control of meaning with art, where we had control of meaning with words [well, we thought we did - i've got a whole other post about that coming up!]…

none of this might make sense. it doesn’t quite to me yet. but i’m putting it up in case it resonates with someone - and whether you can push it a bit further for me… but back to the original point of the post: next year’s trip I want to be a kind of hothouse for a group of people who want to explore this in very practical ways - and preferably because it’s in their blood, not because they think it will be good for the church…

This is the ’script’ for worship… wish it were possible to put up the rabbit proof fence clip… all credit to Ben, Sarah, Craig, Nic for participating in a flawed process and making something good out of it… and to Ray, Jenny, Peter and Darren for turning up on the day and making it work…

Set up
Front of the room: screen with projected still of ‘Rabbit Proof Fence’ salt pan with ‘the memory of water’ written across the bottom. ripped up pages of bible tossed around the floor.

Intro:
Intro who we are, context, shape of worship.

Gathering:

Voice 1
[selected verses from John 4]
Jesus left Judea and started back to Galilee. And when he came to Sychar, a Samaritan city, he was tired out by his journey, and sat by the well. It was about noon.

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, ‘Give me a drink’. The Samaritan woman said to him, ‘How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?’ Jesus answered her, ‘If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?’ Jesus said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty…’

Rabbit Proof Fence clip: ‘There was water here once’
scene: Daisy and Grace are walking across the salt pan
music: David Bridie’s ‘Salt’
words written over clip:

There was water here once,
in the beginning.

So much that the world overflowed with it.

It was the voice of God that pushed the water to the side,
and it left, in its wake,

dry edges
and arid centres

earth, with cracks so deep,
we could lose ourselves in them.

sand,
dust,
salt

all testament to the story
that there was water here once.

It’s easy to be thirsty
when the water is everywhere.

And for a while, when it dries up,
it’s fine.
There are wells that run deep
from hidden springs.

But after a time
even the underground rivers run dry.

And when you have been in the desert too long,

the cracks no longer testify that there was water here once
they speak only of its absence.

you lose the taste of water.
you lose the courage to thirst.

Sometimes faith is having confidence that rain will fall again
sometimes it’s knowing where water is to be found.

and sometimes it’s just having the courage to be found here,

cracked
empty
and arid

Welcome to worship

Invite people to move to stations

i.
prayers for the world
[Words to psalm laid out, response transparencies, bowl of salt]

You visit the earth
and water it.
If we have no water,
have you stopped
dropping by?

The river of God
runs full and far:
if our rivers are dry,
have you run away?

Meadows are not clothed with flocks,
valleys are not decked with grain;
there is no song of joy in the land
in its abundant lack of rain.

How can we sing the Lord’s song
in this strange land?

[written by Sarah Agnew]

Response and instructions:

It seems that neither gods
nor clouds
are of our making.

We wish the world were different
and maybe sometimes we wish you were too, God.

Where are the places in the world, where rain has not fallen and where prayers have not been answered?

taste the salt… and make your protest or your prayer to god…

ii

prayers for ourself
[a loop of a small part of the salt pan walk from Rabbit Proof Fence on computers
bowls of water on brown paper]

We turn our face towards hazy seas
that beckon us from the horizon.

we hesitate with fear that their promise is a mirage

no longer sure of any map,
no longer trusting the words of ancient wisdom,
we pray they do not have it wrong…

what is the act of faith that is beyond you?
what is the hope you are not able to trust?
what is the ancient wisdom that you can no longer hear?

write your prayer into the water

iii

Confession

[‘bed’ of sand, letters SOS torn out of sandpaper and laid on top, sheets of sandpaper]

Make your prayer of confession, or your plea for help with the sandpaper.

iv

cracked

[bed of sand, ripped out pages of bible for people to ‘wrap’ sand in]

When the cracks first appear
in the soil of our faith
our instinct is to cover them over
with artificial turf or concrete
[someone else’s prayers, another’s declaration of faith]

just so no-one will notice
and deem us neglectful,
untidy,
careless,
lacking.

They say we just need more faith,
that of course there’s water to be found,
we’re just looking in the wrong place
[sing this song! pray this prayer! we’ll baptise you!].
Pretend the cracks aren’t there
and one day they won’t be.

But the songs no longer work
and the promises are empty

the waters of baptism only drown us in loneliness.

They may say we need more faith
but we know the faith it takes to stand here
cracked,
and parched

naked in the truth we can’t go back, and that there seems no way forward;

barely remembering the touch of water
and not believing rain will ever come again.

if you stand here cracked and parched, take a handful of sand, let it trickle onto the ground in the shape of your story.

and if you can honour the faith that is held in another’s story
take some of the sand with you…

v

the well

[a dinged up metal bucket, a ladle, sitting on brown paper or black plastic, glasses, people to pour glasses of water]

Sometimes faith is having confidence that rain will fall again
sometimes it’s knowing where water is to be found

and sometimes it’s just having the courage to be here,
cracked
empty
and arid.

rest for a while.
if you would like, there is water here for your journey.

Gather back and send out
[ziplock bags of salt]

Perhaps it is blind faith to have confidence that rain will come again
and easy cynicism to say we will never find a well

Let your thirst be your faith,
let the memory of water haunt you

so that if it rains, you can stand with hands open

and if you see a well, you will know it is yours to drink.

If you cannot leave with faith,
leave with courage.

If you cannot leave with hope,
go yearning…

amen.

I curated a space for a leadership training event at the Centre for Theology and Ministry [CTM] on Saturday. It was on the theme ‘the memory of water’ … the chapel at the CTM is so perfect for doing installations. The CTM is a new complex, and the architects did a fantastic job of listening and understanding the dynamics of different forms of worship and sacred space. i was in on the initial conversations with the architects - they asked quite brilliant and insightful questions, and it’s reflected in the way the space has worked.

There are powerpoints everywhere, including a number of hidden points in the centre of the floor. There’s also network cabling for internet access. The chapel has full length windows against the back wall, which look over a gorgeous garden…

those windows have mechanically operated blackout blinds, and then the choice of a white overlay blind that can be lowered to cover the black [which is great to project onto]. The skylights have blackout blinds. The lighting is easy to manipulate, the furniture is all easily moveable, and there are good storage spaces which make it possible to entirely clear the room… the space is large, but not too large… next time i’m taking a ladder - i think we could stick a data projector onto the cross beam on the back window and project up high onto the ‘hidden’ wall…

i was even given permission to put hooks in the ceiling if i needed to [i wanted to hang stuff], but there were glass shields on lights that weren’t being switched on, so i could use suction hooks instead.

in terms of the space itself, i think it worked ok. most of the people who came through are very new to this kind of space… it’s such a leap to move beyond participation as reading the words in bold to a prayer on a newssheet…

after the jump are the words for the ‘thirst’ station - we’re using a variation of this at greenbelt, so save the surprise if you think you might get to our service there…

(more…)

This saturday i’m curating a sacred space as part of the ‘Overflow’ children, youth and families training event at the CTM in Parkville. I would love to see you if you’re going to be there. I’ll be in the chapel.

It seems the theme of water has permeated most of the worship and sacred spaces i’ve curated this year. it’ll be there again on saturday… The space is open all day.

we had the first of the ‘between the spaces’ nights on wednesday - a gathering of a wee group of people who have worked on the basement spaces over the last year or so, and who have decided we might want to meet more intentionally to plan the spaces and explore faith and spirituality within a creative context.

it was good. no grand plans [although a few great ideas for things we might do!], no great statements about the kind of group we might be, or the things we aspire to… just a conversation about where we’re at, and what might be possible within that. i think most of the group are not sure what shape of community we can connect with or commit to, so we have no plans for becoming a particular type of community - we’ll just begin with a common idea, a few possibilities that will no doubt be rewritten as we go, and see what evolves from that.

we’re having another drink together in a few weeks time. let me know if you want to be part of it and i’ll pass on details.

[the soundtrack for the conversation (provided by the pub where we were meeting) was the CD Divenire, by Ludovico Einaudi. it's piano and strings - kind of minimalist contemporary classical. it was so beautiful it stopped us talking mid-sentence. i just bought it and have it playing now...]