Showing posts with label Visual Theology blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Visual Theology blog. Show all posts

Monday, 10 December 2012

Bear Fruits Worthy of Repentance

Bear fruits worthy of repentance

Bear fruits worthy of repentance. (Luke 3:8)

Winter strips everything back and we are left to focus on what really matters. The hedgerows are devoid of leaves and only the red berries remain to signify the life multiplying truth of this plant's existence. Such an extravagant botanical investment in the future is also a present and welcome gift of food to many of the species of birds for whom the hedgerow is a vital part of their habitat. They in turn spread the seed far and wide beyond the parent plant. Such ecological mutuality and interdependence is a fundamental given of this landscape.

Mutuality and interdependence are integral to our wellbeing too. They signify an outlook which goes beyond self to others and which acknowledges the fundamental interrelatedness of life as a given of a healthy society. The fruits of such a worldview are obvious in terms of the bright red berries of welfare, social security, healthcare, justice and social capital which brighten up the wintry landscape in these austere and recessionary times.

The absence of berries in the hedgerow would indicate a catastrophic failure to provide for future generations and a breakdown in the local ecology which would put its very survival in jeopardy. Something would have gone terribly wrong.

And in the view of John the Baptist something had gone terribly wrong in contemporary society. The natural ecology of God's Kingdom of Love was in dire jeopardy. The fruits of mutuality and interdependence were remarkable by their scarcity. Looking around him John was struck by the comparative lack of the bright red berries of compassion, righteousness and service which signify a healthy faith. He confronted those who came to him with the simple facts of conversion, discipleship and Kingdom living. Their lives should bear clear witness to their belief. Their longing for a fresh start with God should entail a fresh start in how they live their lives towards others. They should bear fruits worthy of repentance.

The bright red berries which John looks for are very practical and down to earth and one can easily imagine that they are tailored to the individuals and groups who come to him asking what they should do: “Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”Even tax collectors came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?” “Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them. Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?” He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.” (Luke 3:11-14) John emphasises the social, collective and communal dimensions of authentic faith in God. In this is he being absolutely true to the faith he has inherited and in which he stands. Without these expressions of mutuality and interdependence one can rightly conclude from the Hebrew Bible that as long as the heart remains unmoved, lip service is being paid to faith, for to take God into the heart of our being is to take the heart of the other there too.

Because the human ecology of grace is such a fundamental given of John's faith landscape, in his wintry words he strips everything back and focusses on what really matters; and not just to us, but to God. To be told unequivocally to bear fruits worthy of repentance is as much of a shock to our sensibilities today as it was when the phrase was first uttered by John the Baptist. For it suggest that the opposite holds true, and draws our attention to all that remains unworthy.

Our wintry world desperately needs to see evidence of bright, berry red lives. And John still prepares the way for us to take that truth to heart in Jesus and make it our own.

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This post comes from the ever wonderful Visual Theology blog, by Dave Perry. The original post can be read here

Friday, 2 December 2011

Advent day 6: Advent begins where we are...

I pinched this post off the marvellous Visual Theology blog - thank you Dave Perry, your photos paint words and your words fire imaginations...
 
 
 
The Polish sculptor Igor Mitoraj takes the idioms of classical Graeco-Roman sculpture and gives them a thoroughly postmodern twist by emphasising the fragile, damaged nature of our humanity as opposed to its idealised perfection. As such his representations invite self-recognition, acceptance and empathy in the mind of the viewer. Mitoraj's imperfect marble figures draw us into an awareness of the solidarity of our collective brokenness as individuals. His magnificent Héros de Lumière (Hero of Light), currently on display at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park,  exemplifies this artistic trait to the full.

It is therefore a perfect image with which to begin Advent. It is into this sorry state, this brutal reality, this damaged, broken and fractured sense of self and of the other that our Advent promises speak. Because it is from this place of abject truth that the Advent journey has to begin. Not from some errant and skewed sense of perfection, or from an idealised image of who we are, as individuals, societies or nations. Hero of Light depicts neither fantasy nor illusion, rather it says here is where you are. It is only from here that you can journey to Bethlehem. Depart from anywhere else and your travelling will be in vain; a futile exercise in vanity.

The biblical texts could not be clearer on this point: "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness" (Mark 1:3) and "A voice cries out: 'In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord'" (Isaiah 40:3) both direct us to the startpoint of our Advent pilgrimage. The wilderness and wildness of the human condition in all its fragile, imperfect beauty is where love speaks to us by name. And as God's beloved we are invited to make the promises our own; to take them to heart and believe them. Like this, as this, nothing less than this; from this sacred place of grace we set out again, or maybe for the first time, to discover Christ, the light of the world.



Tuesday, 21 December 2010

winter solstice, lunar eclipse, dawning of love


Just before dawn on the shortest day of the year the eclipse and winter solstice conspired to diminish the light and challenge the dawn. In the freezing darkness of this winter's morning the lunar eclipse brought a startling absence of light, until the dawn broke and the sky brightened into the deep beautiful blue of a new day.

Darkness and light, the solstice of the soul, the joyful dawning of hope; Advent gifts vital themes to the embrace of Christmas. Once again the birth of love melts the frozen denials of secularism, and the radiance of grace illuminates the hard edges of life.

In these darkest times the love-light of Jesus awaits our gaze and our welcome.

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From Dave Perry's 'Visual Theology' blog

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

Advent encourages me to believe that love will appear where the need is greatest


Dave Perry writes, '...With temperatures down to -16C our snow-bound village has been blessed with a spectacular display of frost. One sight in particular caused me to stop and think, an image which quite unexpectedly visualised my expectation of Advent and the Christmas season.

I came upon a barbed wire fence adorned along its entire length with a translucent fringe of delicate ice crystals. It was as though a decorative strip of tinsel had been unwound and very gently and deliberately put in place to counter the barbs with beauty. And what beauty.

The frost was growing by the hour, and to me it had the quality of a determined and irresistible protest at that which is designed to harm. Materialising out of thin air, the frost made visible the front line of love's work. Where else would I expect love to be if not where life's barbs are the sharpest and its boundaries the cruelest and most intransigent?

Where the tools and techniques of violence and oppression separate us from each other, where hatred divides and the innocent are denied freedom, that is where love materialises. Advent tells me this is so.

And so in the frosty miracle of love's incarnation in Bethlehem, God's crystal clear protest at all that bedevils and belittles the beauty of our humanity is made manifest for all to see. Such translucent grace makes a mockery of our barbed wire world. It encourages us to believe that love will always appear where the need is greatest...'

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From Dave Perry's moving and enlightening Visual Theology blog...