Entertainingly (through stories, poems, pensees, plays) 'A Disbeliever's Bible’ abandons the solemnity of empty piety. But its purpose is not frivolous. It disentangles knots of misunderstanding which many struggle You may read at random, or journey with the author from GENESIS to MALACHI. That some items are idiosyncratic cannot be denied. Editing the manuscript, I decided not to let Job be bullied into submission! It could seem presumptious to rewrite the Word of God; in a church production God was allowed to win! (Though His spokesman was neither minister nor member, I must add). Now recognising that love of God is a human creation, it is our business to explore what goodness means. £7.50 inc. p&p. Charles I.Ward, Primrose Cottage, 16 Clay Lane, Wendover, Buckinghamshire HP22 6NS SOF 49/ September 2001 Nene ee ——————————_ al ; STORIES MICHAEL WRIGHT describes how he's been dogged by the hound of heaven I grew up in a household where no one believed in God.
Enjoying being a nuisance to my RE teacher as a fifteenyear-old enthusiastic debunker of Christianity, I set out to research my arguments more thoroughly. In the process, I found myself caught by the Hound of Heaven.
Baptised at 16 - something of an oddity in St. John's at Warminster, Wiltshire - I shortly afterwards left home to begin work as a journalist on the Shrewsbury Chronicle. My induction into pastoral work was a by-product of visiting bereaved families for potted histories of their loved ones. I discovered the cathartic benefit to them of a listening ear.
Six months after my baptism, I was confirmed at St.
Chad's, where within a matter of months the curate suggested I consider ordination. I thought it was a ridiculous idea for such a new Christian, but the idea grew and before twelve months were up, I had, much to my surprise, been accepted for ordination.
During a year's course at the Bernard Gilpin Society in Durham (1958/9) I was with 30 or so students from the whole range of Anglican churchmanship, some of whom spent a lot of time arguing over doctrine and liturgy. I nearly went off pop. I found a spiritual sanctuary in early morning mid-week services in the Cathedral, and in the Quaker Meetings for Worship.
I couldn't quite grasp what Quaker theology was at that time. It was for me too vague and unspecific. I moved on, but carried with me the Advices and Queries of the Society of Friends, a spiritual treasure that has guided me for 40 years.
My three years at Chichester Theological College were formative, but made less of an impact on my spiritual frame of reference than the Quaker Advices and Queries.
Shortly after my ordination to the priesthood in Gloucester Cathedral in September 1963 I had a crisis of faith.
I went through a phase of not believing anything that I was obliged to preach. I worked out for myself a basis of belief that I could accept, and was fundamental, but sat lightly to the rest.
The breakup of my first marriage in 1979 (to which the demands of parish life as vicar of Kirkbymoorside and later of Ormesby, Middlesbrough had contributed) led me in time to full-time secular employment, first with the Health Service and then with Social Services running a respite care unit for elderly mentally infirm people. At the same time I was for seven years part-time priest in charge of a small parish in Middlesbrough, before I resigned and began studying for a degree in counselling.
Eating away at me throughout were big theological problems. The biggie for me was the atonement. I was never happy trying to make sense of the significance to me and others of Christ's death on the cross. I could weave a Good Friday liturgy around identification with the suffering, but the substitutionary theory never felt right.
What a relief it was about 14 years ago to read Matthew Fox's Original Blessing. I discovered that the Jews have no doctrine of original sin, so I could be in company with them and some of the medieval mystics Fox quotes in ditching the doctrine. But then, what on earth was I doing baptising babies?
When my father died in 1990 I took his funeral at Salisbury Crematorium. He was a life-long convinced nonbeliever. I gave him a non-religious funeral, the first I had ever conducted. But then friends asked me to conduct SOF 49 / September 2001 similar funerals for their relatives. In time, undertakers began to ask me when they were faced with unusual funeral requests. I did this openly for five years - I was by then honorary curate to the Rural Dean.
When Cleveland County Council was abolished, I took the redundancy option, and became self-employed as a counsellor and trainer. I also informed local undertakers that I was more available to take funerals - whether Christian or non-religious - than I had been when employed full-time as a local government officer. One of the undertakers passed my letter to the Bishop of Whitby and Archbishop of York.
They gave me an ultimatum: either I retained my licence to function as a priest and stopped conducting nonreligious funerals, or I continued and they would withdraw my licence. As I had taken an oath of canonical obedience, I felt there was no choice to make but to comply with their directions, although I fundamentally disagreed with their thinking. I obeyed for three years.
Meanwhile I had become part-time Chaplain of Butterwick Hospice at Stockton. I was daily face to face with people's simplistic notions of God - as either loving, punishing, caring, indifferent, miracle performer, or provider of everlasting rest: I was reading Don Cupitt, Jack Spong, and in time Marcus Borg, Robert Funk, and The Historical Jesus by Gerd Theissen and Annette Merz.
At the same time the hierarchical straight-jacket was itching like hell. It was not just the funerals - it was the whole concept of having my judgement and freedom of choice subject to episcopal dictact.
Finally I became uneasy conducting the eucharist.
Though I liked to conduct liturgy with care, clarity, and a profound sense of spirituality, I became increasingly aware I no longer believed what the Church of England believes PAITH Introducing the Sea of Faith Network of bp Dbl Benton Will the:
REAL JESUS erm Dlesse stand up... about this sacramental act. The very language of sections like the confession, and body and blood, became offensive to me. When I attended my parish church, the services left me cold.
After much thought I again turned to the Quakers, intending to worship both with them, and at my parish church. However the relief at not having to say words I really could not commit myself to, and being able to listen in the corporate silence instead of having to be singing, reciting or otherwise busily occupied with words, was soulnourishing, and reviviying. The theological environment was liberating and supportive.
I decided to lay aside my Anglican ministry before someone decided for me that I no longer fitted any Anglican shape the hierarchy could accommodate. I chose to apply to become a member of the Society of Friends as a definite commitment to a different Way. Thankfully I have been accepted.
T can now explore spirituality, theology, and the implications of the teachings of Jesus, in a community where my particular perspective may sometimes be unusual, but is welcomed. I have a renewed energy in this exploration, and a desire to help others realise there is an alternative to mainstream Christian liturgy and thought which is available, and can cope with re-visioning Christianity. The social implications of the Quaker Testimonies - on peace, integrity, equality, democracy, social justice, simplicity, and care for the planet - are in tune with my own perspectives of the social gospel. I have found myself at home and can plan, with other like-minded souls, some ways forward.
Michael Wright was ordained to the Anglican ministry in 1962 and “laid it aside” in 1999 | NOW IN ITS THIRD EDITION!