[ hold :: this space ]

So we workshopped… it was a fascinating morning. I know less now than I did before.

It confirmed for me that the way we work with hope - the language we use to invoke it, and the role we believe we play in offering it - is absolutely central to our understanding of faith. And how we understand hope isn’t determined by our alignment with a particular religion. The gift for me this morning was finding so much in common, in the struggle with these questions, with the Muslim and Buddhist chaplains. Not that our answers are the same - actually, perhaps it was the realisation that we had a lack of answers in common; that we liked each others’ determination to keep asking the questions.

But the blank faces from those who are in a different place - who are confused and bewildered by the fact that we haven’t worked this out yet, like they have, or sorted through the doubt - makes for a pretty exhausting time. I think they would say that doubt is good, but really only the kind of doubt that has faith at its core. I think I’m talking about something different. I have absolutely no concept of the being of God at all. None. But I’m absolutely, completely committed to the things that have always been attributed to God - the event of God, as John Caputo would say. Does make me faithful, or doubting? Who knows [and it was a rhetorical question anyway].

But I had a moment of insight at the end as to why talking about hell was so confronting for many of the women. One of the Muslim chaplains said ‘you’d think that if you were a Christian, being told that Jesus has broken the chains of hell would be something you’d like to hear’… and I realised that part of it is that the women don’t want all that is Good to be sullied by all that is Bad - that God will be made dirty by descending into our hell, and they need God to be pure; the place to escape to beyond our hell. Greg, one of the christian chaplains at the juvie said that he can’t play Nirvana in worship - the lads only want Hillsongs. Not because they believe Hillsongs theology, but because it’s so removed from their reality.

Not everyone has that reaction, of course. For every 10 people you get in prison, you’ll get 35 different theologies… which is about the same number as you do outside prison. And, in the end, when i wonder what the hell we were thinking trying this, I’m reminded of the woman who sat down next to me on Holy Saturday and started a conversation by saying ‘If God’s in my hell, then I guess it’s ok for me to tell you this…’

I’m leading a workshop tomorrow for the metropolitan prison chaplains - an inter-faith group, consisting of Buddhist, Jewish, Muslim and Christian chaplains from the prisons / remand centres across the broad metropolitan area.

We’re going to talk about the easter stuff we did at the DPFC, and about the connection between art and spirituality - and in particular, the use of art and imagination to take us into transformative spaces.

We’re also going to look at the effect of doing that - what creating spaces that invite people into doubt, faith, hope and fear leads to.

[This is stream of consciousness, so it's not edited or wrapped up nicely at the end! It's also very, very long.]

The ‘When hope goes to hell’ space on Saturday was really interesting… The idea that God went to hell is most clearly stated in the Apostles Creed [especially its traditional versions], and it was a belief inherited from very early traditions, and from some interpretation of biblical passages. Psalm 139 gives a poetic version of the same concept. I guess the responses of the women was a microcosm of the community / church: some of the women got the idea instantly, and were right there with it. Some were horrified that we could say such a thing - that we could dare to mention the words God and hell in the same sentence, let alone put them in the same place. One woman was outright angry with me… then she came in the next day with her prayer book open to the Apostles Creed. ‘You were right’, she said. ‘Maybe’, I thought.

The women wrote prayers onto black card at the easter saturday vigil. The funny thing about the prayers was that we had the women writing with black on black so that no-one else would be able to read them. But they wanted them to be read… as I’d move around the room, they’d squint into the black card to find the outlines of their words and read out their prayer to me; by the end they were reading them out to each other. We sort of got this group prayer thing happening entirely by accident.

I feel my journey at times has meant nothing to anybody. That nobody hears my cries of anguish. That I am alone in this dreaded place called hell on earth. If God is in hell with me then he understands. Amen.

The Saturday afternoon was perhaps the most intensely theologically demanding that i can remember. Some of the women lost themselves in the art / meditations… for others there was too much prior stuff that needed to be sorted out before they could trust the process - too many questions that arose. Normally we have the luxury of talking about faith theoretically, and our questions have a buffer zone around them. They’re not life-threatening. But here, choices were being made about relationships, lifestyles and pleas in courtcases based on the conversations we were having. And none of these are simple moral choices - they are infinitely more nuanced and complex than that. I have to say, I don’t think I have the faith to do this. I think what we did only worked because it was framed in doubt - i can’t, with any honesty, write anything but out of doubt / disbelief - but it’s when people assume that there’s faith on the other side of it that I get overwhelmed with the responsibility.

Anyway, there were a lot of questions that came up - some of them asked into thin air, some of them that turned into conversations. We’re going to use them at tomorrow’s workshop - to discuss how we reframe the expression of our beliefs so that they actually contribute to a conversation about the questions that are asked; so that we create a shared conversation about faith rather than a forum with a religious expert offering the answers. For example, if we don’t believe in a physical manifestation of hell after death, how do we respond to the question ‘what actually happens in hell?’ in a way that provokes thought and interaction, rather than shutting down conversation. The real skill is in being comfortable enough with our own world view to be able to refocus a question…

These were the questions that arose on the Saturday. They weren’t just asking me, they were asking each other:

‘Who do you think is in hell?’
‘What did God do in hell?’
‘If we all go to heaven, will I need to be with the people who hate me after I die?’
‘If I can’t believe, will I go to hell?’

[learning number 1: belief in heaven and hell is entirely independent to belief in god... and the idea that there might not be a hell or heaven is inconceivable. there's no prior question in this...
learning number 2: prison gives you too much time to ponder the existential questions of life
learning number 3: invoking the fear of hell is an evil motivator for faith]

‘what if it’s not true?’
[indeed. the great unanswerable question]

‘When i died, i just saw a white light. I reckon that means I’m going to heaven.’
[quite a few of the women have had NDE's]

‘how do i know who i should trust to tell me what to believe?’
[too right.]

I think we imagined that the vigil would be the meditative part of the weekend - and it was in Protection where we controlled the space and time much more - but the transformative moment actually happened on the Sunday morning. This links back to the use of art and imagination. I think it was only possible because of the Saturday - that gave it an authenticity, perhaps, that wouldn’t have been there otherwise.

On the Sunday, we started with Libera’s ‘Jubilate’, which is astonishingly beautiful, tear inducing… and it was like we all found ourselves in Rumi’s field beyond knowing… there was a moment where the questions were irrelevant, where belief itself didn’t matter. We just knew there was beauty somewhere; there was no desire to analyse or interpret it, we just wanted to lose ourselves in it… and after the service was over, when we were having a cup of tea, the women kept going back to the cd player to re-play that song…

This is what you missed, god
when you were dead:

the sun kept rising
each morning,
and we kept on living.

When you were dead, god
we picked up the pieces of our life
and the remnants of yours

we found each other
and together we honoured the memory of you
and we did what we needed to do
to let you go.

So while we celebrate your resurrection
can you understand why we are so afraid of it?
and why it’s so hard to let you
back into the parts of our lives
that were existing just fine without you?

We kept living when you died, god,
but don’t make us do that again.

This is Sunday’s service [a rough draft, anyway]. In the centre of the worship space we’ll lay out black fabric / card and on the top of that place an image - maybe one like this - blown up to A2 size. The Christ candle, when lit, will be placed on the image. The worship opens with the playing of Jubilate from Libera, and the words to the call to worship begin half way through the song [the 'and' at the beginning of the ctw is deliberate - it's finishing a thought started by the song...it really only makes sense with the music...!]

Call to worship
And so love is unstoppable
even by death,
life is not destroyed
by having been through hell,
and light does not stay smothered
by the darkest of nights.

We are not people of fear anymore.
We know now how this story ends.

Jesus is risen
He is risen indeed

Welcome to worship.

hymn

Bible reading:
[probably Mark's version of the resurrection, though that's not confirmed...]

Reflection on the story

Prayer
We don’t know what really happened
or if we have the faith to believe whatever did
but the resurrection doesn’t depend on our faith

so come anyway.

We are too cynical for this:
We have trusted, and then lost, too often,
and we may need to sit this one out

but come anyway.

And, heaven knows,
we are probably waiting for it in the wrong place entirely
because life hasn’t come in the ways we thought it would before
and you have never done what we expected.

Come anyway,
right to where we are.

Prove us wrong
we pray

today.

amen.

Prayers for the world
We’ll invite the women to pray for the places in the world that are waiting for resurrection - to light tealights and place them onto the image on the floor.
- play Leonard Cohen’s ‘Anthem’

[I'm not sure we'll use the following prayer - if so we'll rework the above slightly to include it]

It’s easier to believe in a miracle that happened 2000 years ago
than to believe another could happen today
but your resurrection gives us the courage
to pray for the impossible,

so we do:

from systems of oppression, resurrect freedom
in acts of racism, resurrect love
where there is violence against women, resurrect justice
in places of destruction, resurrect a future

from the war in Iraq, resurrect peace
from the corruption in Zimbabwe, resurrect hope
from the bushfires and earthquakes, resurrect healing
out of financial collapse, resurrect liberation

out of our despair, resurrect promise
out of our fear, resurrect courage
out of our loneliness, resurrect compassion
out of our grief, resurrect life

we pray to believe the impossible can happen
we pray to live as though it will be so.

amen.

hymn

blessing:
Send us into the world, God
ready to encounter resurrection:
to point to love’s presence
to light another’s darkness
to speak your peace into the world’s pain.

and may we go as people who know there is another end to the story
and who will not live with fear anymore.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ…

a prayer for the prison on Easter Sunday

We don’t know what really happened
or if we have the faith to believe whatever did
but the resurrection doesn’t depend on our faith

so come anyway.

We are too cynical for this:
We have trusted, and then lost, too often,
and we may need to sit this one out

but come anyway.

And, heaven knows,
we are probably waiting for it in the wrong place entirely
because life hasn’t come in the ways we thought it would before
and you have never done what we expected.

Come anyway,
right to where we are.

Prove us wrong
we pray

today.

amen.

If you are able,
tell God what it is like
to live in the wreckage of dreams that have no life left -
when peace is dead and buried
when hope has gone to hell.

I’ve always said that it would be great to do Holy Saturday in the prison. Now that we’re doing it, i’ve realised it’s redundant; sort of like doing Lent in a bushfire ravaged community… Nevertheless, we’re not letting reality stop us, we’re doing it anyway.

The women have said that they would like a vigil, so we’re offering what’s basically a sacred space that they can wander in and out of on the Saturday afternoon. All the normal prison pre-requisites apply - no props apart from paper based products and pens with transparent casings [yes to cardboard, no to long lengths of black fabric, black markers, paints etc]; no movies, projection, and a small selection of music [on a terrible cd player!]. It sucks, because holy saturday has to be the best day to do multimedia stuff…

Each of the stations will have a printed out image, and black card with black pens to write / draw responses. We’ll have music in the background - some Sinead O’Connor, Gorecki, stuff like that. I’ll add the images when they’re sorted…

Theologically, the women are largely very traditional / conservative in their views. Although many of them have never been to church, they know what they know about religion, and this is not the place to play with it! I keep wanting it to be abstract and meaningful, but it really just looks pretentious for the context…

The words for the spaces are after the jump:

(more…)

This is for good friday in the women’s prison - i’ll post the whole service when it’s done, but that won’t be until next week, and I know some people are waiting on it… This is the foundation of the service - 7 candles laid out on black fabric… a series of readings and reflections with pauses for silence in between, and a candle extinguished with each one, music [Johnny Cash - Hurt; Sinead O'Connor - Out of the Depths, that kind of thing...]. I haven’t read it through out loud to see how bad the rhythm is, so i will be changing some of the words in the next few days… If you wanted to shorten it, i’d go with 5 candles and drop out reflections 5&6 - they’re the weak ones. We’re also doing a vigil on the Saturday in the women’s, which will involve stations - I’ll have that up here by friday. Easter Sunday won’t get up until Monday next week…

Reading 1
Mark 15:1-5

Reflection:
You taught us to stand for truth, Jesus
which would see though our arrogance,
and give courage in our uncertainty;
which could break down our defences
and uncover the world’s fear;
which would challenge our judgements
and lay bare our shame.

It isn’t just you who is facing this trial, Jesus.
With you is the truth we need to live.

[extinguish candle]

and we wait here at the foot of the cross…

[silence]

Reading 2
Mark 15:6-15

Reflection:
You taught us to believe in a love, Jesus
that would enter into the pain of the world
with a gift of compassion;
that would break the powers of evil
and transform them with light;
which would know the grief that holds us barren
and could shape it into life

It isn’t just you who will be nailed to the cross, Jesus
With you is the love we believed in.

[extinguish candle]

and we wait here at the foot of the cross…

[silence]

Reading 3
Mark 15:16-20

Reflection
You taught us to live in grace, Jesus -
to trust we are found
when we think we are lost;
to not be held captive
or entangled by judgement;
to hold fast to a promise
that this world will be made new.

It isn’t just you who will be hanging on the cross, Jesus,
With you will be the grace we need to live

[extinguish candle]
and we wait here at the foot of the cross…

[silence]

Reading 4
Mark 15:21-24

Reflection

You taught us to trust in hope, Jesus -
to live as though the world will, one day,
treat the weak with compassion,
offer freedom to the prisoner,
bring comfort to the afflicted
and give peace to the mourning

It isn’t just you who has been beaten by the world, Jesus
with you is the hope we need to live.

[extinguish candle]
and we wait here at the foot of the cross…

[silence]

Reading 5
Mark 15:25-32

Reflection

You taught us to walk by faith, Jesus
to believe the impossible could happen
in every moment and every place
to live as though it would
right here and now

It isn’t just you who hangs here dying on the cross, Jesus
with you hangs the faith we need to live.

[extinguish candle]
and we wait here at the foot of the cross.

Reading 6
Mark 15:33-40

Reflection

You taught us to be people of justice, Jesus
and confront evil that would stifle love
and systems that oppress;
to speak honesty into power
and truth for those betrayed

It isn’t just you who hangs here helpless, Jesus
with you is the justice we need to live.

[extinguish candle]
and we wait here at the foot of the cross…

Reading 7
Mark 15:42-47

Reflection
So we wait here
in the shadow
of all that we once knew;
amid the wreckage of a life
that used to make sense;
holding onto a faith that now lies empty

it isn’t just you who has died on the cross, Jesus
but all we are sure of
and all we learnt to trust.

[extinguish candle]
we wait here at the door of your tomb
wondering how we are to keep faith in you…

a first thought for easter sunday… we’re doing Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday in the women’s prison.

give us a taste of resurrection
but make us greedy for more

content only with a world that is turned inside out
and re-formed in the new shape of love

rip apart fear, give birth to freedom
dismantle injustice and rebuild with peace
transform our betrayals into truth and compassion
breathe into our hell a promise of life.

Thinking about Good Friday. It’s all very black so far.

Either Jesus was mistaken, or God really did leave the building…

Alternative meanings for ‘forsake’, from the dictionary:

renounce
abandon
relinquish
dispense with
disclaim
disown
disavow
discard
wash one’s hands of
give up
drop
jettison
do away with.

My God, my God, why have you disowned me…

i think most of the stuff around this passage is to do with the feeling of being abandoned, or with justifying the god who was uncovered through the staying, or with the angle of the fulfilment of the prophecy, etc.

the idea of god giving up on the idea of jesus is pretty powerful stuff…

So you, Jesus,
- hanging,
broken -
are the only god we are left with,

and we pray for the faith to not go searching
for a god less human,
yet absently divine.

I’m heading off on holidays… but first, a quick idea for Lent that I would have liked to develop more… so bear in mind that it’s in draft form!

I’ve always liked the idea that the seasons of the church year, like lent, are about helping people practice for the moments in life when they are, for example, in the wilderness - practising putting a story of faith and a way of living alongside those times. A lot of people in Victoria are living the wilderness - if not Good Friday and Holy Saturday - at the moment. Lent this year shouldn’t be about teaching people how to live in these moments, but giving them the space to be allowed to.

The lectionary readings for Lent are woeful this year… do we really need Noah and the flood? promises that the earth will not be destroyed again? or the other passages that all seem to draw a direct connection between sin and the devastations that come upon the earth? I’m sure they can be redeemed [well, maybe], but I’d ditch them, and use a compilation of readings from other years.

I think i’d do a labyrinth each week [thanks jenny for that idea, all the way back at christmas!]. Very simple, and with one station in the centre. One idea might be to put a bowl of oil at the beginning of the labyrinth each week, for people to mark their hands with a sign of the cross, and then a jug of water with glasses at the exit, for when people leave.

ash wednesday:
I’d not make this anything it’s not - i’d just put a bowl of ashes in the centre of the labyrinth, with the traditional words and ask people to mark themselves with a sign of the cross.

week 1:
[I'd place the story of Elijah and the wind, earthquake, fire into the centre - the NRSV translation, which ends with the lines ' after the fire was a sound of sheer silence'. I'd put some writing charcoal out, and black paper, and some words out like this:]

We wait for the silence.
We would rather no words.
Any talk of hope, in this wilderness,
only echoes off the scarred landscape;
hollow promises that deny the truth of this reality.

We long for a silence, God,
that is big enough to hold all the things
we cannot say out loud.

We long for a silence
that does not try to answer them.

If there are things you need to say, for which you want no answer
write them onto the paper here.

week 2:

[print out Mark 1:12-13
put it next to a loaf of bread and these words:]

we wander the wilderness,
longing for glimpses of familiarity
- a roadsign
a playground;
some certain belief,
a moment of grace.

Was your wilderness this unfamiliar,
this disorienting,
too,
Jesus?

We know all too well the temptations
we long for the company of angels…

take some bread
let it be food for the journey
you are not walking here alone

week 3:

[Put a bowl of rocks into the centre, and start making a cairn for people to add to]

Hold a rock, tight in your hands.

Let its sharp edges cut into you
-like the unanswered questions of faith
or the anger that shapes our days
or the grief that doesn’t seem to end.

If you would like, add your rock to the cairn

- cairns mark moments in the road where something significant has happened;
they mark the way across a difficult path -

your story of walking this wilderness is part of the faith of this community.

week 5:
[Put out words to Isaiah 43:19-21, a bowl of dirt and a bowl of water]

If you can’t quite perceive it yet;
if the vision of this new world
is too blurred by your tears,
then write your fear and doubt into the dirt.

If you are able to, let those
who have walked the wilderness before
and found an unexpected spring
hold faith for you…
run your fingers through the water.

week 6:
- this is holy week. I’d put a bowl of water in the middle and wash people’s feet - thinking of the woman washing Jesus’ feet, not him washing the disciples’.

that’s it! hope it’s a useful beginning, feel free to rip it apart and remake it to work where you are…

i’m on holidays for the next two weeks. see you on return…