Martha's Marvellous Munchies

You may be familiar with Paul's illustration of the Armour of God in his letter to the Ephesians. He lists such items as the breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation, and exhorts his readers to "stand firm" against the enemy's attacks, wearing the whole armour of God. For those original readers in Ephesus, a Roman soldier was probably an everyday sight. They would be familiar with swords and shields, and may well have owned some themselves. However, I don't come across any Roman soldiers very often. It takes me an extra imaginative leap to be able to visualise the armour, and then associate it with technical religious jargon like righteousness and faith. Also, I've never really got on board with this spiritual warfare business. I'm sure it's down to my circumstances or temperament or spiritual immaturity or something - I don't discount the whole concept, but I can't say I've ever had a moment where I felt like I was crossing...

Some while ago I heard a sermon on the story of Zacchaeus. I forget what the point of the sermon was - usually for this Bible passage it's something about Jesus saving everyone, even the unlikely people. But I remember wondering, did Zacchaeus really give all that money away? Image by Alexa from Pixabay You may remember the tale: Zacchaeus is a corrupt government official who is rather short. When Jesus arrives in town, Zacchaeus wants to get a look at him. So he climbs a tree to see over other people's heads. However, Jesus spots him and tells him to get out of the tree and go cook Jesus some dinner. I assume Jesus phrased it a little more nicely than that, because Zacchaeus is delighted, and moreover, promises to change his entire lifestyle. "Half of my possessions I give to the poor," he declares with the enthusiasm of the instant convert, "and anyone I've defrauded, I'll pay back four times over." The surrounding crowd are the cynics: Jesus, th...

Who gets to decide what God is like? I am the way, the truth and the life (Image: Pixabay) Well, God presumably has a pretty good idea. The rest of us struggle a bit more. So where do you get your theology from? Who tells you what God is like? And who do you believe when they tell you? I'm asking these questions because I recently read At the Gates , which I reviewed here . It made a lot of useful points about disability and the church. But it also, I noticed, had a very particular view of theology. Once again, I was glad I'd previously read Models of Contextual Theology , because I was able to pick up a few assumptions that the authors of At the Gates were making. I didn't feel that I totally disagreed with these assumptions, but I wasn't sure if I agreed with them either. So I'm using this post to explore them further. Assumption 1 A disabled person's lived theology is just as important as an academic person's theology This generates two opposing reaction...

"A church with an accessible culture makes sure a diverse community can participate in everything they do. That's not a burden on a church - it's a cultural shift that benefits everyone." "This is a book about justice." So reads the first sentence of At the Gates: Disability, Justice and the Churches . Written by Naomi Lawson Jacobs and Emily Richardson, who are themselves disabled, At the Gates  draws on interviews with dozens of Christians with disabilities to put together a picture of how they have been treated at church. In the book, the interviewees are called storytellers . All too often, the stories tell of lack of access, hurtful comments, and unfounded assumptions about their abilities and faith. This, the authors describe as ableism  - an ideology that gives power to those who are able-bodied and neurotypical, while regarding others as deficient. What is the book about? The first part of the book covers the issues that disabled people have in havin...

"Love is a sweet and pleasurable food because it gives rest to the tired, strength to the weak, and joy to the sorrowful. Love makes the yoke of truth easy to bear and its burden light." Bernard of Clairvaux was born in 1090. At the age of 22 he became a Cistercian monk, and persuaded about thirty of his relatives and friends to join him on this path. He became the abbot of Clairvaux when he was 25 years old. During his lifetime he founded many other monastic communities. This edition includes two of St Bernard's books: The Twelve Steps of Humility and Pride and On Loving God . They are short books, with very short chapters, often only a page or so long. The first was written for his fellow monks; the second for "the illustrious Lord Aimeric, Cardinal-Deacon and Chancellor of the Roman Church", who had apparently been asking Bernard questions about the faith. What is the book about? Twelve Steps spends its first half describing what the goal of humility is, b...

"God has ordained in his great wisdom and goodness that eating, and especially eating in company, should be one of the most profound and pleasurable aspects of being human." Miranda Harris had been intending to write a book for years. She'd got as far as a folder full of notes when she died suddenly in a car accident in 2019. When her daughter, Jo Swinney, found the notes, she decided to bring her mum's dream to fruition. A Place at the Table was the result. I thought this was going to be a nice friendly book about having people over for dinner. In one sense it is, but it's pretty hard-hitting as well. Miranda and her husband Peter co-founded the environmental charity A Rocha, so the book doesn't shy away from considering the environmental aspects of what we eat and how we live. They also travelled widely and encountered hunger at close quarters; the tension between seeing such poverty and believing in a generous God comes out clearly in A Place at the Table....

  Sometimes it's good when people say things we disagree with. Not always; it can be irritating, frustrating, or wounding. But sometimes it arouses our curiosity, causes us to examine our assumptions, and sets us off on a trail of new discoveries. So it was when somebody posted this image on Facebook.   It says, in emphatic block capitals: We need preachers who preach that hell is still hot, that heaven is still real, that sin is still wrong, that the Bible is God's word, and that Jesus is the only way of salvation. After my initial reaction of, "We certainly do not! " the curiosity kicked in. What was it about this particular formulation of the Christian faith that I didn't like? If I wouldn't preach that, what would I preach? Given that hell is not a major topic of the Bible, how on earth did we get Christians who think it merits headline billing in the gospel? What's wrong with it? Picking something apart is always the easy bit. I partly object to what...

"We cannot enter by any efforts of our own; His Majesty must put us right into the centre of our soul, and must enter there Himself."   St Teresa of Avila reluctantly began to write Interior Castle (or The Mansions ) in 1577, complaining that "this writing under obedience tires me and makes my head worse". She set herself to the task of explaining her vision of the soul being like "a castle made of a single diamond... in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions".  Her writing is engaging but dense; I found it difficult to read more than about ten pages at a time. She also has a habit of introducing terms like favours or intellectual visions and talking about them for a while, before finally defining what they mean several chapters later. This gets confusing. On the other hand, St Teresa is good at thinking of illustrations to explain what she means. She frequently exclaims that these visions are impossible to describe to any...

"The affirmed life must not become either a lazy life or a happy-ever-after, easy life. The affirmed life is not a life of the power of positive thinking. To be affirmed by God means to live with danger and promise."   Kosuke Koyama's book Three Mile an Hour God was written out of the experience of the Second World War and its aftermath in Japan. As Koyama says in his preface, it is "a collection of biblical reflections by one who is seeking the source of healing from the wounds... inflicted by the destructive power of idolatry." The title speaks of a God who moves at walking pace - three miles an hour - and even, in Jesus, comes to a "full stop" - nailed to a cross. If we try to move faster than the love of God, says Koyama, we fall into idolatry. What is the book about? Three Mile an Hour God has 45 chapters, each a separate short reflection headed by a Bible verse. Some deal specifically with Japan, considering her role in WWII, the damage inflicte...

I wasn't sure whether to read another set of theology books this year. Could the time I spend on it be better spent on something else? At what point does it become reading for the sake of it, without having much impact on my wider life? It's difficult to tell. However, as usual, I had a growing list of books I wanted to read. I do need to think about what I'm doing as well as what I'm reading, and I don't expect to continue this specific discipline indefinitely. But I decided there was space for at least one more year of Reading for Spiritual Formation. So, without further soul-searching: The Books. Three Mile an Hour God Kosuke Koyama Japanese theologians are few and far between; Christianity is still very much a niche religion in Japan. Kosuke Koyama was Japanese and appears to be both influential and accessible. Not every theologian is both! So I'm excited to read his recently republished book Three Mile an Hour God. It was originally written in 1979, and is ...

"I do indeed fear God, and so I try to say only what he wants me to say, even if people don't want me to say what I'm saying." Oscar Romero was archbishop of San Salvador, capital of El Salvador, at a time when murder and torture were widespread in the country. After his friend and fellow priest Father Grande was killed by the government, Romero took a stand against the violence. Week after week, he used his pulpit and radio broadcasts to report the murders and disappearances; to call for the church to work for peace and justice; and to preach repentance and forgiveness even for the killers. He did this knowing that it would certainly lead to his death. In March 1980 he was shot as he celebrated Mass in the cathedral. The Scandal of Redemption collects together extracts from Romero's sermons and diaries. The chapter headings are short - The Church, The Call, Redemption, Liberation - and each chapter gives a flavour of Romero's thinking on the topic. A remarka...