Parish Magazine Item for October

 

From The Rectory

 

For the last few weeks, our sermon series has been from the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes.

You can catch up with any of our sermons online at: warbletonchurch.org.uk/sermons-talks/ and the Filter function allows you to search by Bible book. It has been a profound experience to ponder this ancient book’s meaning again. Its message seemed timely in the light of the Covid pandemic because in it The Preacher searches for meaning and significance in the light of death and the unpredictability of life.

The refrain which rings from its pages is “Vapour! Vapour! All is vapour.” In other words, life is short. Like a fleeting breath or a puff of smoke. It is quickly gone. And like a breath, life can’t be fully grasped. It slips through our fingers and eludes us. There’s so much that we can’t completely understand or control. The Preacher teaches us honesty and humility.

 

Although it’s sometimes strange and difficult, much of the value of the book lies in the fact that it takes a long hard look at the world as it really is. There are no quick or glib answers here – not even religious or spiritual sounding ones. Life isn’t a crossword puzzle that can be neatly solved. Even though we have God’s Word, we don’t have all the answers. Often there is injustice and pain. In many places wickedness holds sway. Sometimes God’s purposes are hard to see.

 

Although we live in this fog, the Preacher claims that joy is possible even in the mist. This comes not by escaping or denying the vaporous nature of life, but by receiving God’s gift of satisfaction in our toil. We do well to rejoice in all the good things that God gives us, but not to pin our hopes on them. We should hold onto our stuff lightly. Rather than grasping after the wind, we need open hands to receive God’s generosity. We get into trouble when we imagine that people or things can give us ultimate control, or significance, or security. We tend to make good things into god things, to take the gifts and forget the Giver. The Bible would call this idolatry and would say that idols will always disappoint.

 

We can’t see the whole picture, but we can see enough to take the next step with God in faith. We are to revere God and obey his commandments. 

 

The book of Ecclesiastes shows us very clearly the broken, fallen nature of our world. And it promises that God sees and cares. He will bring every action into judgement. We strive for a better more godly world, but we can’t straighten everything out. The cosmos is twisted out of shape by sin, and the flaw runs through our own hearts too. We need a Saviour. Left to ourselves, we can’t build Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant lands. We must look to the New Jerusalem, the city whose architect and builder is God, which will come down out of heaven from God: his new, renewed creation. The Preacher disabuses us of utopian dreams that we might embrace a more solid hope.

 

The Preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes seems to be great King Solomon who was famed for his wisdom, but he points us to the Lord Jesus, the ultimate king, whom the New Testament calls one greater than Solomon. Jesus has overcome death for us and in him are found all the treasures of the wisdom and knowledge of God. We cannot shepherd the wind, but we can trust The Good Shepherd who commands the wind, “Quiet! Be Still!”. May we rejoice and rest in Him.

 

Ecclesiastes 7: An Outline

Ecclesiastes 7 (p672)

Introduction: Biblical wisdom

If all is foggy vapour, wisdom or escapism?

I. Four ways to be wise:

(1)   Embrace suffering (vv1-6)

 

(2)   Resist temptation (vv7-10)

4 particular temptations we’re to watch out for:

(a)   Extortion / bribery (v7)

(b)   Impatience / pride (v8)

(c)    Anger / hastiness (v9)

(d)   Nostalgia (v10)

 

(3)   Fear God (vv11-18)

 

(4)   Acknowledge limitations (v19-end)

 

II. But you can’t be perfectly Wise (vv23-25)

 

III. So look to God’s Wise Man (v28)

  

Audio sermon here 

Monsters

 Imagine someone with a hugely enlarged right bicep. Some of his other features are normal, some are withered. 

We are in danger of becoming or creating such monsters. 

Often our education system rewards one set of skills which is useful for passing exams. People easily become science or arts people, into numbers or words. And we tend to emphasise analytical thinking. 

There is a feedback loop when we find something relatively easy or we have a bit of success: we make progress in that thing and so its easier for us to do it better or faster than others and this can bring praise, success and recognition. We can even invest our identity in that thing: I'm the clever one, the sporty one, the musical one, the funny one, the artistic one. It is easy for us to never try or to neglect other things. We imagine that those things we've never really tried are impossible for us. "Oh, I can't sing / play / throw a ball." 

Our work can compound this. If we use one particular skill all day every day for three years, that's like getting a PhD in say, solving problems by making spreadsheets. And if you are very good with a hammer, or the hammer is the only tool you have, you might be tempted to treat everything like a nail. 

I'm all for strong right biceps, but it might do us well to consider whether or not we might be a bit lopsided or top heavy. It might be good for us to try going for a walk or using our other hand, rather than just batting everything with that strong right arm.

Nature poetry

 This afternoon I picked up my second hand copy of Ode To The Countryside: Poems to Celebrate the British Landscape (National Trust), which intriguingly has a page torn out. What might the inscription have been?

Anyway, if writing the introduction to such a book, I don't think you should feel the need to tell us that nature poetry only really flourished for a century or so and is rarely amongst the greatest to have been written. I'm not sure that it's right that a focus on the local and the particular is likely to set a limit to its greatness. Might not much of the point be to see infinity in the ordinary?

Better, perhaps, the reflection that turning to poetry or the land can stretch us and give us space to think and see afresh.

Feedback

 Interestingly, Cleese suggests getting feedback on four things about your writing:

(1) Were you bored?

(2) Where could you not understand what was going on?

(3) Where did you not find things credible?

(4) Was there anything you found emotionally confusing?

Cleese says that readers will probably suggest fixes and he suggests that unless the reader is also a writer you should smile and nod politely and completely ignore the advice. The object of the exercise is to identify the problems you have to work on, not to get solutions. 

When assessing suggestions, you need to avoid ego. Don't ask who is right. Ask which idea is better. 

The best time to get feedback is when your idea is sufficiently clear to benefit from someone else's judgement. If you wait until the project is "finished" you may waste a lot of time. 

Did my sermon work?

 Cleese says that the great thing about writing comedy is that you know if the writing has worked or not. Did they laugh?

It is much harder to know if the sermon worked.

You could ask for some feedback. You probably should. But the question is not really did people like the sermon. Or even did they think it benefited them. 

By their congregations shall ye know them. 

What shall I preach on Sunday?

 Well, the good news of Jesus from the Bible, of course. 

But which text? What is the unit? Which of the lectionary readings? One or more? How many readings are you going to have and will you mention them all?

The great thing for the preacher is that he never starts with a totally blank page. He starts with a text. 

And I am tempted to spend too long on deciding what that text will be. 

Much better, in my experience, to have a starting point, a plan, rather than to start with the whole Bible. 

Consecutive preaching through a book of the Bible is undoubtedly the best norm for following the argument and intention of the inspired writer. 

How long should the passage for this week be? Inevitably this is guess work. You might only know after you've preached your next too sermons. Get some help from other sermon series or commentaries which will offer outlines of the book. I am probably tempted  to make the sections too long for fear that I won't have enough to say, but it doesn't matter too much. Hopefully my sermon series will be better the second time I preach through this book. 

But sooner rather than later get to work on the actual preaching rather than worrying about what to preach! Pick a section and go for it. 

Panic early

 Writing on creativity for writers and others, Cleese suggests panicking early. If you really fear you might get to the deadline without any good work, it will energise you. You are unlikely to go off and have a nap. Panic will force you to sit at your computer. 

And then the key is just to start. Make some notes. Write anything. Don't just stare at the blank page.  

Getting stuck

 I've been reading Cleese on creativity and thinking about preaching. 

It is interesting that he says that writing with Graham Chapman they would sometimes get frustrated when they might work for a morning or a day without coming up with anything really good. And yet they consistently found that by Friday night they had fifteen to eighteen minutes worth of good material. 

Cleese argues that getting discouraged is just a waste of time. The fallow periods (a bit like an empty fork returning to the plate) are just part of the process and we have to work through them and keep going. Normally good work happens if you persevere. 

Enemies of creativity

Cleese argues (in Creativity: a short and cheerful guide, Hutchinson / Penguin, 2020) that interruptions are the greatest enemy of creativity. 

Research suggests that it might take eight minutes to regain focus after an interruption and twenty minutes to get back into a kind of deep flow. 

Of course there are external interruptions: phone calls, notifications, unannounced visitors, noises off. But there are also internal interruptions: you remember something to add to your to do list or you worry you may have left the gas on. Writing down these unwanted thoughts might help you to move on from them for the time being. 

You need to give yourself time and space if you are to do your best work in a timely manner. What are your strategies going to be? How do you turn off those notifications? Can you find a suitable work space? Is the 7am - 8am slot the best for uninterrupted thinking? Is some time blocked out in the week for this essential work?

Cleese suggests that the worst possible internal interruption comes from fear of going wrong. Maybe this idea is rubbish and the work will be terrible. He argues that if you are going to be really creative, you must suspend this thought. Ground-breaking research, new work, means setting off to explore without knowing the destination. Possibly you will get lost or end up in the wrong place. Or you might find America. You won't know until you get there. Even if you go down the "wrong" track, something usable might emerge from it. Maybe the idea isn't wholly bad. You need to live with uncertainty and confusion for a time. At one stage of the process, there are no bad ideas. The ideas need to be clarified and then assessed. Perhaps you need to start again, or maybe there's something worth keeping and working with in there. After this analysis, it might be back to creative mode and so on. Draft 17 might be good. 

For creative work, what you are looking for is a degree of focus (I am working on this) and also a degree of openness (what am I going to say or do about it). If your thoughts wander too far, you need to try to bring them back to what you are supposed to be doing but also to allow them to think about it.   

Don't solve the passage!

 I have been reading a bit more of John Cleese on creativity (A short and cheerful guide, Hutchinson / Penguin 2020) and I think it has further application to bible study and preaching. 

Cleese lauds the power of the unconscious (or maybe semi-conscious) brain. As well as deliberate analytical logical thinking, there is a slower way of thinking which ruminates or plays. This involves an openness and enjoyment which does not feel a pressure too quickly to solve things. 

Cleese suggests that decisions are often best left to the last possible moment. That way you might get new information or new ideas. 

Your sermon of course need to be ready by the time you preach it. And you need to leave yourself enough time to make sure you are really ready. An idea / approach is not enough. You need to think about how you will preach and apply the message. 

But those of us trained in sentence flow diagrams, one main point and headings might be tempted to read the text only in one analytical mode and to solve it too quickly, I think. We might do well to train ourselves to live with some uncertainty about what this text means, how its going to apply and how I'll communicate it. Our sermons may then be more engaging and creative, less formulaic. Perhaps even more true to the whole spirit of the text. 

We all want to get our sermon ready, done. I sometimes go into my day off without really knowing my approach to the sermon and it can be an anxious distraction. But I do find that I can nevertheless do some good thinking about it in the shower, when out for a walk or driving or in bed, even if I might like to put the sermon prep brain to rest for a while. 

All this is one reason why I think its always best to read the text a few times on a Monday (or as soon as possible after your last sermon). Even if you don't manage to do any great work on the text, the mental wheels can perhaps begin to turn and the passage can gestate. A sermon might grow while the farmer sleeps, he knows not how. 

On book buying

 My wife will no doubt agree that my book buying is totally healthy. All the books we have we need. We can afford. The piles on the shelves and on the floor are fine, essential, even. They're an investment. The kids will appreciate their legacy. But let's just imagine for a moment that there could be a dark side to book buying. What could it be?

(1) Certainly there is something impulsive, even compulsive about it. There is a lack of wisdom and patience. Is this the best book for me now? A cooling off period might do me good. After a week of mature reflection, I might not think this book is really worth my time, money and space just at the moment. 

(2) And then there is something about lack of diligence, lack of follow through. Reader, I confess to you that I have not read every word of all the books that I have. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but many of the books I already own are good and worthy. I could find help and enjoyment in them if I had not been distracted. It would do me good to go back to some of the volumes on my shelves or in my half-read piles before adding to them, 

(3) And there is something about what I think this book might give me, or appear to give me. Maybe this book will solve my problems. Or help me to be witty or interesting.... One might even say that I am almost building a physical fortress of books. They surround me on many sides as I write. But these books are not a sure defence. 

We could imagine these things. But of course I don't have a problem. Oh, there's the Amazon delivery man - again!