Category Archives: Creed

Knowing

Someone asked me (well not just me, a group of us) to articulate how/why we believe in God. I am tired and it is a hard thing to articulate, but I will set down here what I said and try to start to polish it to understand it better. I think it was Elizabeth Adams St Pierre that said she only knew what she was going to say AFTER she wrote it. It’s a bit like that for me and this is my process for trying to understand my inner truth.

I think I will classify this as one of my “creeds”

I think my belief in Jesus is just me needing a framework for my belief in God

that is the framework I grew up with,

sort of the God-language that I am fluent(ish) in.

 

There is not rational reason to believe in God

I feel a presence

that is what a relationship is, a presence I can feel and trust

I need values and meaning to be fully alive

and sometimes struggle to know what they are

or define them.

 

People define them wrong, rules break down,

systems oppress someone

I need more

a presence I can trust

that will travel the beyond-ways with me

but wiser

and love and trust me into

my better self.

 

God is “other” to me

so that I might not be God to myself

which would be narcissism

I find myself

in bouncing off an “other”

sometimes people are the “other” but also God

to remind me that the “other” is as great and greater than me

and reaching for me in love

to wrap me

my “self” is not all, is not the reason

but even my “Self” is also wrapped in the great love.

 

I know God.

I mean I know love.

I am loved.

I know the sight of the tawny eyes that make me feel tender

and I say “I am in love”

and I can ask all the texts in the world to explain this thing to me

can deconstruct and disbelieve

but I see the face, the smile

and I am in (human) love.

 

And that is what knowing boils down to.

 

I know the taste of mango.

I know the sweet and the sometimes too sour

and the inconvenience of skin and seed

and the pleasure/irritation of dripping

and the juice in a thirsty mouth

and the wrong season so I have apple instead.

There is reason, there is science

but that is not really how I know the curve and the scent

that is mango.

 

I see a man and I know he is the baby

that I used to watch breathing in joy and fear

that I used to hold close and allow to move away

that began words and thought I was everything,

then nothing,

then a person, an “other”.

I know the baby still in the man

but the baby is long gone

and I love the man the same and not the same.

The breath that meant love.

 

My cat purrs and I know her and she knows me.

My hand on her velvety fur brings the purr

and she is old

and she knows I am far from perfect

but also trusts that I will feed her,

she rarely reminds me.

I know she purrs not for any reason

but because we are together.

 

I know the velvety rose petal.

I know its caress and I know its fragrance.

Roses have thousands of petals and they curl and dry up and disappear

and I have to try to remember

to dead-head them.

If I pick a rose

and put in in a vase in my warm house

it will last a day perhaps

not long.

But the petal is fresh if I rub it, unless I crush it,

the rose smells like something I can’t prove.

And why does the scent of a rose

call to mind those eyes again?

Something like faith, making connections

that reason cannot sustain.

 

I would hope everyone feels some such thing.

 

The bible for me is not fact,

or rules for living,

or instructions or warnings.

It is a photo-album of

communities of God within my faith-family.

They got some stuff right and some stuff wrong.

And some of it I just plain wasn’t there and I don’t understand.

 

And then God comes along like a burst of music

through my head and echoing in my memory,

reverbating in my body, in my bones

live music

making me dance and haunting me forever after.

 

Sometimes I get the moves or the rhythm wrong

or I strain to hear and miss my cue.

I hope the music is still moving me even then.

I hope but I can’t prove it.

 

Somewhere in my hope, my good intention

I must have been touched by God

I must be right

(not about the facts or the mechanics or to tear others down)

but right to live and move and have my being

coming to know GODDE.

 

 

 

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Creed (yes again)

What with my right to exist being debated all over the country at the moment. I felt the need to throw in a little extra post affirming my faith and the continuity I see between being this God-created lesbian that I am and my faith in God’s endless love.

Let us pray to the God who is love as we consider what rights to grant our brothers and sisters (and ourselves)

I believe in God, who out of love made the universe;

who made all creation in her own image

who called humankind to know that we are made in the image

imperfect mirrors of perfect grace and and loveliness.

 

This God created me and knows me, knit me together in my mother’s womb

brought me out into the world and called me “beloved daughter”.

And God saw that creation was good, even humanity.

 

I believe that divine Wisdom, became flesh, became Jesus Christ in human history.

Jesus spoke a lot about love and acceptance;

Jesus had more tolerance for honest sinners than for judgemental hypocrites.

We don’t know whether Jesus loved anyone romantically

it is possible he was straight, it is possible he was gay.

He had at least one “beloved disciple” though we are not privy to what went on there.

 

Jesus was put to death, for being more interested in human rights, than personal purities.

He was against the way religion can distract from God’s kindom.

He called people to be fair and loving.

Wisdom has always done this, but Jesus did it in human flesh

so that we would relate to her/him.

 

I believe in the Holy Spirit who loves me and calls me to be kind and authentic.

I believe that all love is from the Holy Spirit

and that God is consistently calling me to love.

For love we are supposed to give up all things,

all prejudices,

all fears,

even traditions if they go against love.

We are uncompromisingly called to love.

 

Sometimes we fail, and yet we are still deeply loved by God’s loving Spirit.

 

I believe that “marriage equality” is a secular matter

and needn’t threaten the church, whether or not we agree

that the love between two women, or two men may be sacramental.

I believe that we need to protect families from hate and exclusion.

I believe that the loving and authentic Christian has no need to fear.

 

I believe that I am fearfully and wonderfully made

yes even as a lesbian

yes even if you consider my flaws as a human being.

I believe that no one ever went to hell for loving too much.

I believe that at the present time God is calling the church

to be great-hearted and loving, courageous and generous.

 

I believe in “yes”.

I believe in broadening our definition of sacramental love to protect families.

I believe in God who out of love

made us, walks with us, calls us to deeper life and love.

 

There is never a contradiction between godliness and unselfish love.

 

This is my faith. I feel the need to try to put it into (imperfect) words. Amen.

Life-affirming creed

Please note: I know I can’t draw but I wanted to show what I meant. I never let children tell me they “can’t draw”, as I think we express something even if it isn’t a beautiful product. So try to see it as a child’s drawing. When I can draw it better I will change the picture

New year, new me and all that and I thought about how I began by writing a creed and had meant to write a new one from time to time- not necessarily to reject the old (though I would be allowed to outgrow it if it happened) but to keep trying to articulate to myself what I believe and what all this is about. So it would be time to write a new one.

Then I have been reading “New Feminist Christianity” and whenever I read things theological I feel a stirring to write it and preach it. I thirst to be a priest but at least I have my blog and a couple of side projects. And finally I have been watching “Call the Midwife” aided and abetted by my youngest son who bought me season 3 for Christmas. I have a love/hate relationship with the series but in all honesty more love for it’s emotional directness, themes of love, laughter and women’s friendship as well as birth and sometimes suffering and grief. Also I am a sucker for women’s history ESPECIALLY when they show it with nice frocks and hairstyles.

So then when I go to write a “creed” I have been affected by these influences of all the feminist theologians telling me to get over the kyriearchy (I agree) while Jenny Lee (a fictional midwife) reminds me every episode that the centre of life is love. And I think that my new “creed” will be not so much an “I believe” statement but more of an “I eperience love” statement which is more to the point. I often think about who and how I love and as an examination of conscience this is the right focus. But a creed is even more basic than that. A creed is not about me and how I am, it is about the reality around me. How do I experience and access being loved. When I finally realised I was loved and lovable, when I was 35 it changed my life. Up until then I had wanted to be lovable but had never believed it was possible. Once I was healed of my inability to know myself I became aware of love from a lot of different people and real love (not just grudging duty-love) from God.

So my transformed, liberated “creed” is an “I am loved” statement. Knowing and experiencing are ways of “believing” I suppose but without that rationalising and legalistic edge. Here is my attempt then:

As we awaken in the womb of God,

quicken in the depths of her who conceived us,

Jesus, our midwife reaches

to hold and steady us

on our terrifying journey.

Feeling squashed and stretched,

helpless and falling

 

Jesus takes and wraps us

to bring our newly born selves

back into the arms of the Mother.

The cord may be cut

but the milk flows.

 

The Spirit confronts us in the mirror.

We trace our ancestry:

the deepest reality of the universe

beating in each breast.

Beloved child, allowed to grow and choose

but never a stranger

from the arms of our Mother.

If I tried to make a creed “I”

I have been reading Why Weren’t We Told? by Rex A. E. Hunt and John W. H. Smith. I would have called myself a “progressive Christian” on days when I can stomach the Christian label at all prior to reading this, but some of the more dogmatic articles about “progressives believe this” and “progressives don’t believe that” chafe at me as much as the original orthodoxies of the church(es) did to begin with.

Why may I not believe in the Virgin birth sometimes on days when I need to reflect on the creative power and possibilities females may have untouched by males? Why may I not believe there is a life after death when I remember my darling mother and my brother, my first playmate? Faith/belief can be mystery and mystical. I guess it is a matter of epistemology (sorry I know people hate that long word) and I am not a naïve realist or a logical positivist.

There may well be scientific facts about what exists and doesn’t exist and how the universe exists and all of that. I accept that. I have no real quarrel with science. But I have a huge quarrel with the “that’s all there is” argument because ultimately there is a huge amount of unknowing linked to scientific facts and to the “real world” we inhabit. And that is not to say I have some sort of naïve belief in a santa-claus like God and a place in the sky and magical fairytales. But faith to me is a different way of knowing and being known. For me to say “I believe…” is more akin to saying “I trust you…” to the great relater. And yes I anthropomorphise God because I need to relate, I need to grapple with my loneliness and the potential meaninglessness at the heart of my life and my being. There is a huge and unending dark night of the soul and emptiness and my heart cries into it “Please exist, please love me” to the One.

And sometimes I hear a frightening lack of response and the stars whirl like cold orbs above me whispering “you are so small, so insignificant” and I cry and fall upon the earth and kiss it and want to know love. And that is the “real world” where my mother is dead and I will die too and the rich get richer and the poor suffer for ever and for always and we might as well try to be as comfortable as we can and climb on one another’s head because there is no inner meaning, all is futile we die and we are gone and nothing happens afterward.

And why would you want to know for sure that that was the case?

I can’t accept that. I need love to have meaning. It matters a lot if today I hold my son in my arms, or smile at a baby bird ot notice the colours of a rainbow. It matters if I want the refugees to be set free and I say so, and I learn a couple of words in Chinese to delight one of my four-year-old students and I fall in love with an intelligent woman and the taste of bitter-dark chocolate in my mouth keeps me awake while I read words of fire. It matters because God exists. Yes God. Someobody who loves me. And it is not contradicting or trivializing 100 other faiths and religions and spiritualities to say that my God is real and embraces me.

So for me “progressive” means justice. It means reason but not the cold, heartless fluorescent light of being so rational you don’t bother to hope in things anymore. Meaning is not always tangible things we have evidence for, or even can put into words. She dances and nine times out of ten I am too tired or stressed or sad or selfish to follow. So she turns and dances back to me again and again and she is real. And the tenth time I may take a tentative step in her dance.

I couldn’t do that if she wasn’t real. I couldn’t love. I wouldn’t really be alive.

So here is a creed I wrote that I could pray instead of a whole lot of archaic imperialistic and patriarchal nonsense (please note the book I mentioned above is good for cutting the ground out from under some of the oppressive nonsense)

I believe,

My beliefs change from day to day

but I am human

and I need to relate.

 

I listen for traces (in creation) of a loving God.

I invite that God to touch me,

to empower and empassion me,

to draw me toward deep unknowable Wisdom,

healing stillness,

Godly action.

 

I quiet myself to hear her voice

because of my need to know her love.

I bring my gifts, my questions,

my failures and desires all to her;

to try to make meaning with her.

 

I yearn for a scent of Wisdom

in all my comings and goings.

 

I read about Jesus, Wisdom embodied in humanity.

I reflect on his teachings,

his courageous commitment to the oppressed,

hope for the broken hearted,

world shaking, empire destroying social justice.

 

Jesus,

his courage, his death, his continued meaning-making

for millennia after death.

 

Perhaps after all I am not called

to belief

instead she calls me always to dare

to love.