Itinerant Communicant

Becoming ‘British’
is not about
passing a test, saying some pledge,
getting that passport.

It is about
picking a side for yourself
in that old, drawn-out war
they call ‘civil’.

Then around you,
the ever-cumulous skies,
the revolting lands,
the tumultuous seas,
cannot even decide on their own names.

But oddly,
you know exactly
who you are,
where you stand.

Ash Wednesday sermon at the chapel of Mansfield College, Oxford, based on two earlier blog posts: ‘What keeps me awake at night’ and ‘Brecht’s Galileo, or, Against Macho Science’.

Luke 15:11–32 (Prodigal Son).

May I speak in the name of God: Creator, Christ, and Comforter. Amen.

A few years ago, I went to the National Theatre in London, to see Bertolt Brecht’s play The Life of Galileo, in a version by David Hare. With 20th-century hindsight, the German playwright Brecht retold the life-story of the 17th-century scientist Galileo Galilei. Today, on this Ash Wednesday, I want to talk about the nature and motivation of scientific pursuit: this play happens to provide some hooks for my thinking. So, at the risk of substituting a theatre review in the place of a sermon, here I go.

If you recall, Galileo championed the theory of Copernicus that the Earth orbits the Sun. The Church forced him to recant this view. The famous British theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking says, ‘Galileo, perhaps more than any other single person, was responsible for the birth of modern science.’ Is this modern science a good thing in the round? Was the Church right to slow Galileo down after all? Galileo’s 17th-century contemporaries did not have the benefit of hindsight and retrospection: They were riding the wave of the Renaissance, pregnant with the prospect of rationalism’s triumph in the 19th and 20th centuries. Read the rest of this entry »

Father God, in the beginning,
you gathered the waters in one place to let dry lands appear.
In latter times,
you parted the waters to let your people pass into freedom;
you led your people with a pillar of fire in the darkness.
You said:
‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you:
when you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned;
neither shall the flame kindle upon you.’
‘Fear not: for I am with you.’
We thank you for all this
and commit our journey today into your mighty hands.

Lord, have mercy; Christ, prends pitié; Heer, ontferm u over ons.
Read the rest of this entry »

God our Creator, we thank you for the elemental nitrogen, which forms the silent majority in the air we breathe. We thank you for the bacteria that fixate nitrogen from the air, activating the element for metabolism in the biosphere.

With John Seymour, companion of Saint Fritz Schumacher, we remember the nitrogen cycle: We recall how humanity has split this one wonderful system into the two problems of pollution and the need of artificial fertilization.

We grieve for the wasted material containing fixated nitrogen, polluting the rivers and seas rather than fertilizing the land. We commit to you our anxieties about the Haber–Bosch process, which fixates nitrogen to make fertilizers by burning large amounts of fossil fuels.

God the Holy Spirit, give us wisdom and courage to repair and complete the nitrogen cycle.

Now we join the Society of Ordained Scientists in this collect: Almighty God, Creator and Redeemer of all that is, source and foundation of time and space, matter and energy, life and consciousness: Grant us in this Society and all who study the mysteries of your creation, grace to be true witnesses to your glory and faithful stewards of your gifts.

We pray all this through Jesus Christ, who is Alpha and Omega – who completes the cycle and reconciles all things to himself. Amen.

This week in England, we were asked to ‘Remember, remember the Fifth of November’, and this Sunday – Remembrance Sunday – to remember the soldiers. It is well that we remember these; but I wonder whether it would have served us even better to remember that there had been three Anglo-Afghan Wars, before getting ourselves into a fourth one. The Encyclopædia Britannica has them thus: ‘The first war demonstrated the ease of overrunning Afghanistan and the difficulty of holding it. The second war proved to be a Pyrrhic victory for the British.’ So remember the poppy fields in Afghanistan, as well as those in Flanders, when you see the poppies this autumn.