While spending some time in LA I was asked by someone what the goal of my work was. Or rather, what I was wanting to offer people through the collectives I was helping to establish. This is a question that I have been reflecting on a lot recently.

Some of these reflections have been fed by Freud’s potent comment that he sought to transform human misery into general unhappiness. This goal can seem quite depressing at first glance. However I think that there is also something profoundly powerful nestled in this modest aim. Freud never offered people the usual snake oil. He never claimed that if we just follow a certain dogma, engage in a prescribed set of practices, buy a particular product etc. we would banish depression and find happiness and fulfilment. Rather he merely held out the possibility that we might be able to face up to life in all of its beauty and horror. Embracing it by saying “yes” when it would be so easy to say “no”. He helped people face up to their trauma’s and bear their weight. Indeed he pointed to ways in which we might be able to turn them to our own benefit.

Occasionally churches offer potential converts a life of fulfilment and happiness in exchange for answering an altar call and engaging in some spiritual practices. And indeed often ecstasy of some kind accompanies the initial response to an altar call. An ecstasy however that tends to dissipate quickly, leaving the new convert to attempt ever more bizarre practices to return to the initial high.

In the collectives that I am part of such promises are avoided. Rather the good news comes down to offering people the possibility of facing up to their suffering and darkness and sharing them with others in some (often ritualistic) way. The good news is found in offering those present the space to face their anxieties (rather than repressing them or falling into dispair) and develop the courage to embrace them. This of course is not something that brings in the masses. Stadiums are more often filled by smiling men in good suits offering a lot more (in exchange for a little cash).

This is a subject that I shall be exploring more in the coming years. But for now I will leave you with this parable from The Orthodox Heretic which hints at what I think the good news might look like (click here for another parables, not my own, which also touches on this issue).

There was once an old man named Benoni who had known great misfortune through life, having lost his wife and children to poverty, disease, and war. The many lines on his face betrayed his pain, and his heart was filled with sorrow and regret. Indeed he barely had the strength to carry on.

But there was one who had drawn alongside him in his sorrow. His comforter was the village blacksmith, a strong but caring man who exhibited a gentle, humble, and charitable way of life. People knew very little about this blacksmith, as he was a quiet man who had moved into the town only a few years before. Yet he was well liked by the community and would often be found sitting on the porch of his workshop, enjoying the midday sun and passing the time by engaging strangers in conversation. His face was strong and full of character, betraying both a depth of spirit and a breadth of experience. But it was also a kindly face that was set alight by his compassionate smile.

When Benoni lost his first child, the blacksmith called round to his home, put his hand on Benoni’s shoulder and with great affection said, “I am so sorry that you have suffered this grave misfortune. If you will allow me, I would like to stand with you at this time of hardship.”

Ever since this first encounter the blacksmith had called round to Benoni’s house most evenings, sometimes to sit and chat, sometimes to listen, and sometimes simply to leave food and other provisions. As each new calamity befell Benoni, the blacksmith would be there to speak and cry with.

One day when Benoni was particularly depressed he went to visit a pastor who lived in the heart of the city, so as to talk through what had taken place over the traumatic years and try to make sense of it. The pastor listened to what Benoni had to say and then, after a little thought, replied, “Well my son, in order for great fortune to take place one must first suffer great misfortune. The suffering you have faced is the price that has had to be extracted for strength of character, and a spirit forged in the fires of hell.”

So Benoni returned to his home alone, lit a fire in an attempt to take away the evening’s chill, and contemplated the words of the minister. Perhaps he is right, thought Benoni, maybe I should take some comfort from these words. But it is cold, I am alone, and words can offer no shoulder to rest on.”

Just then the blacksmith knocked on the door and Benoni, as always, welcomed him in. As they sat together they drank whiskey and talked long into the night. That evening Benoni shared the words of the pastor with his friend, adding, “Perhaps now that I have been given these words to comfort me, you no longer need to visit as you have done this last year.”

The blacksmith simply looked at the floor for a few moments and then replied, “My dear friend, if what the elder has said is true then I am needed all the more, for if you had to suffer such great misfortune in order to find strength of character and wealth of spirit, then this is in itself a great misfortune.”

And so they sat late into the night bringing comfort and warmth to each other through the sharing of their lives.

This is another of my favorite parables dealing with the subject of love. It is a story that I remember reading many years ago by Douglas Coupland in Life After God.

From what I remember, and this would fit with Coupland, it is was meant in a nostalgic way. Told by someone looking back at a type of naive experience of romantic love that they perhaps yearn to return to yet cannot.

For Valentines Day I wanted to post up something on the subject love. So I thought I would share one of my favourite parables on the subject.

I am afraid it is not the happiest of stories, but it beautifully explores the themes of love, death, suffering and survival. While it explicitly deals with a young woman who has lost her child I think that many of us will be able to relate to its universal theme.

So it is time to unveil the winning parable. It was difficult choosing 2nd and 3rd place as there where around half a dozen others that particularly stuck out to me as possible candidates. However, when I received this parable I knew straight away I had the winner in my hands.

This parable is not only beautifully crafted, but has a narrative that really made me stop in my tracks and think. This is a piece of writing I have returned to many times since I received it a few weeks ago. It is engaging, disturbing, thoughtful and rich enough to inspire interesting and conflictual commentaries. The parable was written by Kester Brewin and is entitled Footprints…

There was once a man who had lived a long and difficult life. When he finally lay down, a faint smile bent the lines in his face as his eyes were shut. He had run the race; now he could rest. The curtain was pulled back, and he stumbled through the light to meet God.

‘My Master and my Friend,’ the old man hailed God as he prostrated himself before God’s feet. Hearing no reply, the man looked up and saw God shuffling awkwardly in his chair, not quite managing to fight back a blush across his cheeks.

Not wanting his moment of judgement and welcome to be spoiled, the old man gathered his courage and spoke up. ‘My Lord and my God,’ he began, nervously. ‘Is this not the time when my life and works shall be weighed in your scales and my named checked against those who have made it into the Book of Life?’ After such a tiring day it was difficult for him to remember the exact details of what was meant to be happening, but he felt certain that it should be God who should be taking the lead.

‘My child,’ said God sadly, before petering out and looking around for some way out.

Following God’s gaze, the old man took in a crumpled photo, pinned to a crowded notice board hung askew in a dark corner. His heart leapt. ‘Father,’ he said, getting up carefully like a servant in Medieval court, ‘here is a photo of footprints on a beach…’

God took it and stared at it for a while and as the man perceived his eyes glistening, his own tears came, for he knew the photo, and knew the words of comfort that came with it. ‘Tell me, Lord,’ he said, knowing already the lines that would come, ‘tell me what the footprints mean.’

And so God began.

‘Your life has been like a walk along the beach with me, many scenes from your life flashing across the sky. In each scene there are footprints in the sand, sometimes two sets, at other times only one.’

At this point God paused, and looked down, and so the old man seized the initiative, and played too his part.

‘Lord, this bothers me because I notice that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I can see only one set of footprints.’

He looked up, but saw God unmoved, so continued. ‘You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?’

He bowed his head, holding back the tears, ready for the words of succour that he knew must come.

And slowly God replied, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when you carried me.’

The man frowned for a moment, paused, and then looked up. ‘Surely Lord,’ he began rather embarrassed to be correcting the Almighty, ‘you mean when you carried me.’

‘My dear child,’ God said, twisting a loose thread of cloth from his flowing robes, his face suddenly a mirror in which the old man saw the battles he had fought and the doubts he had put asunder, ‘this was the measure of your faith: when difficulties came, you gathered up this tired and arthritic God, and carried your beliefs to safety.’

A small wind blew through the old photographs and worn papers, and the two men sat in silence for a moment.

‘I have prepared a room for you,’ God said after a while, ‘though I quite understand if you don’t want me to stay.’

I don’t want to say too much about this parable, except that it reminded me of Etty Hillesum’s diaries. Hillesum’s work was born out of the horrors of Nazi occupied Amsterdam (she was eventually murdered at Auschwitz on 30th November 1943). In one of her diaries she wrote to God saying, ‘Alas, there doesn’t seem to be much You Yourself can do about our circumstances, about our lives. Neither do I hold you responsible. You cannot help us but we must help You and defend Your dwelling place inside us to the last’.

Thank you Kester for such a rich, difficult and rewarding parable.

I am currently compiling all the parables I have received in response to the competition I ran with Paraclete Press in connection with my latest book, The Orthodox Heretic. The response to the competition has been overwhelming and the quality of submissions is impressive.  Now I have the difficult task of foraging through them all to unearth the winners.

In addition to $100 of Paraclete books, first prize receives a beautiful limited addition print (see above) by the artist Jared Robinson. Second and third place win $50 of Paraclete books.

I will announce third place on the 1st September, along with the parable and a short explanation of why I chose it. I will do the same on the 2nd September with second place. Finally, on the 3rd, I will share the winner.

My hope is that this competition will have inspired some people to experiment with the art of crafting a parable and that, as a result, we will witness a small revival of this transformative mode of communication within the Christian community.

This short film found its way to me a little while ago and I thought it was beautiful. It is called Dilemma and was written and directed by Bala Boyd. In fact he even wrote the original score. Enjoy.

Dilemma

The tract is finished and looks absolutely fantastic. I am aiming to have it ready for Greenbelt in a few weeks, and will be bringing some to the Matter conference where I am speaking in September. But I thought, as a taster, I would introduce you to some of the characters,

This is Dr I. M. Smug. He calls himself an expert on pre-tribulation studies and has written two small books on the subject (making him one of the few people who can claim to have written more books than he has actually read*). He spends much of his day watching for signs of the end times and sketching intricate diagrams describing the apocalypse. However, while he regularly refers to himself as a ‘Doctor’, it was recently revealed that he purchased the title for $25 from the Jesus-agrees-with-me Bible Seminary.

Meet Mr Smarm. He doesn’t go in for all this thinking nonsense. ‘Others interpret the bible’ he says, ‘I just do what it says’. For Mr Smarm reason is a tool sent by the devil (like fossils, facts and Obama) designed to divert us from the true path. But Mr Smarm is not concerned for he knows that Jesus did not leave us alone on earth, but sent Fox news to guide and comfort us. Like Dr Smug he too is obsessed with the rapture and is glad to see wars and enviromental crisis, as they are signs of the end times.

This is Miss Busybody. She heads up the local church prayer group. Their motto is, ‘no sin too small to share’. There is nothing that Miss Busybody and her little circle don’t know. Be in no doubt, if you have a dirty little secret that you think nobody knows about you are dead wrong… Miss Busybody knows what you did, and rest assured that she is utterly disgusted.

Not much to say here. The bigger the celebrity the smaller the introductions. And it doesn’t get much bigger than this… ladies and gentlemen, meet God. While God has no gender people often refer to Him as, well, ‘Him’ (cause guys got to make up the rules and because we are just that little bit better than girls). God rarely shows His face directly due to the nasty fact that His appearance is so overwhelming that peoples eyes tend to bleed, their skin melts, their eardrums explode and their brains leak out of their nasal cavity. Once this fact was firmly established God stopped communicating directly to the human race and now sends…

…these guys (yeah, we got to give them a male gender too, if you don’t like it go and make up your own superbeings). They tend to be around on all the big occasions. They are nine feet tall, blindingly beautiful and fight on your behalf in a cosmic battle for your soul. In their spare time they enjoy reading Frank Peretti on the beach, worshiping God and going to the movies.

Finally, meet Mr Saint. Mr Saint is generally known as anything but. He has been married twice, never goes to church, and is on Miss Busybodies infamous watch list. People aren’t too sure what he believes, but they do know that he reads dodgy books and hangs out with some shady characters. Mr Saint isn’t that interested in the end times and doesn’t seem all that bothered about subjects like God, the church and the afterlife. There is something strange about this man, something very strange…

———

*this joke was stolen from the comedian Stuart Lee, and considering what he said about Joe Pascale I thought I had better attribute it

People have been asking if I am thinking of doing an audio version of The Orthodox Heretic. The answer is that, while I would like to, I have to wait to see how well the book does first.

However I am working on an exciting DIY project at the moment with the musician Dubh provisonally entitled The Cimmeria Chronicles: An Anthology of Half-Forgotten Fables. This album will offer twelve parables (some new ones I have written that are not in my books and some that I have collected over the years) with ambient dub overlayed. Each track will be ideal for personal or collective relfection.I am tempted to use the subtitle Bedtime Stories for the Soul, as the restful tone of the work will be ideal to listen to late at night as you prepare to sleep.

There will be more information on this little underground project in the coming weeks. However, for now I thought I would gather together the readings I did on this blog in the run-up to the release of The Orthodox Heretic, so that they could all be accessed from the one place.

As you are probably aware I am running a parable competition at the moment with Paraclete Press to mark the release of my new book, The Orthodox Heretic and Other Impossible Tales

The competition runs until 1st August 2009 (winners announced 1st September). In the original competition information I mentioned that the parable should ideally run from between 100 and 1000 words. However please don’t feel constrained by words. I like surprises. Perhaps you would like to enter a short film, graphic story or song.

The only remit is that entries follow the principles of a parable. This basically means that one employs the use of an extended metaphor in which fictional characters and actions are created in order to draw out, explore and interrogate some idea relating to life and faith.

Please send entries to Carol Showalter.

To mark the US release of my latest book, Paraclete are running a writing competition. The idea is to get you, yes you, to write a parable dealing with pretty much anything. It should ideally be between 100 and 1000 words in length. Oh, and you can enter as many times as you like.

First prize is a beautiful limited edition print entitled ‘New Life‘ by the artist Jared Robinson (Jared is currently collaborating with me to create work inspired by my writings). You will also receive $100 worth of Paraclete books of your choice and the adoration of your friends and family.

Second and third prize will receive $50 worth of Paraclete books.

My desire in running this competition is to help people rediscover the importance and power of parable. So, if you attend a writing circle, church community, youth group etc. you might want to take some time to explore the theme of parables (suggested reading below) and then encourage everyone to write one.

So what are you waiting for? Send your entries to Carol Showalter, no later than 1st August, 2009. 

The entries will be judged by myself and the winners announced on 1st September, 2009 both here and at Paraclete Press.

Tips:

A parable can be loosely described as a short, fictional narrative that draws the reader 
into an insight concerning some aspect of faith and life. Parables often work best when 
they challenge commonly held attitudes and unmask the poverty of some widely held value. Parables are generally structured in a very simple and stark way, with a narrative that avoids any unnecessary detail that may detract from the central, evocative message.

Some books, apart from my own, that might help get you in the mood include,

The Song of the Bird

Parables of Kierkegaard (Kierkegaard’s Writings)