Beginning Reflections

I'm back after some away time.  I spent most of my daytime with Sara Miles, and the rest of the time with friends, which, if you've read anything by Sara seems singularly appropriate.

This time my companion book was Take This Bread - the spiritual memoir of a twenty-first-century Christian.  Part of what appeals to me in her writing is that as a newly 'converted' Christian, Sara is more concerned about orthopraxy than about orthodoxy ... more concerned about living her faith than about articulating the tenets of her faith in compliance with any particular denomination's credal values.  She quotes a "wise bishop" in affirming that "there's a hunger beyond food that's expressed in food, and that's why feeding is always a miracle."

It's why, after worship, we gather to share in fellowship either within the church building, or if a formal fellowship time isn't laid on, then informally around a table at some restaurant with those who hunger for more than simply liturgy.

It identifies for me, why there is also such appeal in her writings.  For Sara, unlike denominational guidelines, refuses to establish criteria for who can receive food from her food pantry.  The only requirement is a name so that you may be greeted by name by those who are helping.  In a society where 'charity' is hedged with rules, regulations, means tests, and other qualifications, it's a refreshing change.  In a denomination where there seem to be increasing numbers of restrictions, it is the breath of fresh air I needed.

I am aware that many of the rules and regulations, guidelines and restrictions, are for our protection, safety or well-being.  But it seems to me that we can always justify the narrowing of the doorway, and all too often we do not even realise that we are choking ourselves to death until it is too late.  I sing the "elders' lament" -- it wasn't like this when I was first ordained -- and I cringe to hear myself now sounding like one of that group.  And yet, it wasn't ... there were fewer restrictions.  Yes, there were also fewer protections, and we do well to seek a balance.  But when it seems as though all communication is about further regulations, in a faith where the first rebel chafed against the restrictions of his day, I wonder if we are not in danger of losing touch with that which is most important, most significant, and most life affirming in our faith.  Are we becoming the restrictive Pharisees, unable to see how we are using our own created rules to control that which cannot be controlled?

That is my struggle for this summer:  to seek to affirm that which renews and enriches, and to discard that which stifles and constrains and ultimately, leaves me poorer.