OK, the Ashes are gone and it's time for a post mortem. Congratulations to the England team - but I think they will admit that their side isn't the strongest one they have fielded. In the stats and averages, the Australians looked dominant in terms of volume of runs, centuries scored, and wickets per bowler. But it didn't translate into victories. Here's ten reasons it went pear-shaped...
1. Failure to win in Cardiff. One wicket was all that seperated the two teams in the end. Australia were dominant in Cardiff and couldn't finish them off. Lack of a quality experienced spinner and some strange captaincy on the last day helped England.
2. Mitchell Johnson at Lords. What went wrong? I am still shaking my head in disbelief. Johnson looked like a moody teenager and bowled like he was bowling with the wrong arm. Strauss was gifted a century, England were gifted a very large and rapid first innings total - and we never looked in it from there.
3. Batting collapses in the first innings three times. Killed us at Lords. Got us in a spot of bother at Edgbaston. Killed us again at the Oval. North, Ponting and Clarke got big runs, but failed when the chips were down.
4. No quality spinner. Without a really viable spinning option, Ponting had nowhere to turn to when the batsmen get set, or when one of his pacemen has an off day. In the end, it was absurd to play four quicks at the Oval.
5. Michael Hussey. Sorry Mr Cricket, but you were a big gimme in the middle of the batting order. You made runs when it didn't matter anymore and got ducks when it really did matter. You were a passenger, basically.
6. Bowling on Strauss's pads. Why do this? He's good - but not THAT good. Gifted far too many easy runs.
7. Variety in the England bowling attack. No single bowler was dominant. But each of them took a turn - Flintoff at Lords, Anderson at Edgbaston, Broad at the Oval with Swann.
8. Late order England runs. The sight of Swann and Broad swinging the bat is enough to give me nightmares. Prior, Bopara, Collingwood, Cook and Bell were disasters for England. But it didn't matter in the end.
9. Inability to play swing bowling. Not quite as pronounced as in 2005, it was still the case that the Aussie batsmen were vulnerable to inswinging deliveries.
10. Some WOEFUL umpiring. Not decisive, perhaps, but certainly there were some embarassing decisions against the Aussies. Phillip Hughes got at least two, and he only batted three times. Not easy to build confidence - or large scores - with trigger happy umps.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Confessing 2
4. The New Testament
The baptism that John the Baptist offered involved the confession of sins (Matt 3:6). The baptisands are seen in contrast with the Pharisees and Sadducees, who are lacking the attitude of sorrow for one’s own sins. As in the OT, the mourning of the blessed, and their poverty in Spirit, prepare the way for the coming of the messiah’s great salvation (Matt 5:1-12). The tax collector, who stands far off and crestfallen, and who prays ‘have mercy on me a sinner!’ (Luke 18:13) is the one who goes down justified – his godly sorrow is met by forgiveness and justification. Sorrow for one’s sins, expressed in confessional prayer to God, is the disposition, or mindset, that is answered by the good news of the coming of the Kingdom of God in the person of the messiah himself, who will offer himself as an atoning sacrifice for sin. Christ remains in his role of intercessor with the Father on our behalf (1 John 2:1 ).
5. Simul iustus et peccator
There is no hint in the NT of the Roman Catholic view that conversion is necessary for Christians even after baptism. The problem with the system is a failure to see that forgiveness and justification are once and for all, and bring the fruit of adoption into Christ’s family by the Spirit. The NT Christian is addressed as a saint, not a sinner; and there is the expectation of a robust conscience full of confidence in the atoning blood of Christ. This life is still lived in the flesh, of course. Luther’s insight was that in the gospel one could be both fully righteous and yet still a sinner. Because the Christian life is still lived in the flesh, confession of sin plays a crucial role in reminding the believer how it is that he or she can claim to stand with any confidence before God. It is a protection from the haughtiness and presumption so often condemned in scripture. The practice of confession of sin powerfully reminds us of our dependence at every turn on the mercy of God
...the beginning, and the even the preparation, of proper prayer is the plea for pardon with a humble and sincere confession of guilt.
John Calvin
ARTICLE XVI
Not every deadly sin willingly committed after Baptism is sin against the Holy Ghost, and unpardonable. Wherefore the grant of repentance is not to be denied to such as fall into sin after Baptism. After we have received the Holy Ghost, we may depart from grace given and fall into sin, and by the grace of God we may arise again and amend our lives. And therefore they are to be condemned, which say they can no more sin as long as they live here, or deny the place of forgiveness to such as truly repent.; and encourages us to further repentance.
Confession signals that the Christian life is an ongoing act of repentance, steeped in recognition of the holiness of the character of God himself. It points us back to the great salvation-historical moments of redemption, and most especially to the cross of Christ as the once-for-all sacrifice for sin. Confession is effective because of the advocacy of Christ in before the throne of God in his present heavenly session. This is not in any way to compromise the assurance of a clean conscience that the Christian ought to experience – as the doctrine of justification by faith alone teaches. As Calvin writes: The godly man enjoys a pure conscience before the Lord, thus confirming himself in the promises with which the Lord comforts and supports his true worshippers. It is not our intent to snatch this true blessing from his breast; rather we would assert that his assurance his prayers will be answered rests solely upon God’s clemency, apart from all consideration of personal merit. Confession is, in fact, a great recognition of the security and sure hope of an answer that is given in the gospel of Jesus Christ – while at the same time, being recognition of the seriousness with which the Christian takes sin. It is therefore important to encourage a practice of confession individually and corporately among God’s people; but alongside this to declare the gospel of grace – in this sense fulfilling Jesus’ commission to the apostles in John 20:23.
6. Confession as therapy?
We probably shouldn’t despise the therapeutic effects of confession either. James 5:14-16 reads: 14 Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. 16 Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective. The confession in this instance is mutual and communal rather private. The healing effects of the experience of forgiveness are palpable.
The baptism that John the Baptist offered involved the confession of sins (Matt 3:6). The baptisands are seen in contrast with the Pharisees and Sadducees, who are lacking the attitude of sorrow for one’s own sins. As in the OT, the mourning of the blessed, and their poverty in Spirit, prepare the way for the coming of the messiah’s great salvation (Matt 5:1-12). The tax collector, who stands far off and crestfallen, and who prays ‘have mercy on me a sinner!’ (Luke 18:13) is the one who goes down justified – his godly sorrow is met by forgiveness and justification. Sorrow for one’s sins, expressed in confessional prayer to God, is the disposition, or mindset, that is answered by the good news of the coming of the Kingdom of God in the person of the messiah himself, who will offer himself as an atoning sacrifice for sin. Christ remains in his role of intercessor with the Father on our behalf (1 John 2:1 ).
5. Simul iustus et peccator
There is no hint in the NT of the Roman Catholic view that conversion is necessary for Christians even after baptism. The problem with the system is a failure to see that forgiveness and justification are once and for all, and bring the fruit of adoption into Christ’s family by the Spirit. The NT Christian is addressed as a saint, not a sinner; and there is the expectation of a robust conscience full of confidence in the atoning blood of Christ. This life is still lived in the flesh, of course. Luther’s insight was that in the gospel one could be both fully righteous and yet still a sinner. Because the Christian life is still lived in the flesh, confession of sin plays a crucial role in reminding the believer how it is that he or she can claim to stand with any confidence before God. It is a protection from the haughtiness and presumption so often condemned in scripture. The practice of confession of sin powerfully reminds us of our dependence at every turn on the mercy of God
...the beginning, and the even the preparation, of proper prayer is the plea for pardon with a humble and sincere confession of guilt.
John Calvin
ARTICLE XVI
Not every deadly sin willingly committed after Baptism is sin against the Holy Ghost, and unpardonable. Wherefore the grant of repentance is not to be denied to such as fall into sin after Baptism. After we have received the Holy Ghost, we may depart from grace given and fall into sin, and by the grace of God we may arise again and amend our lives. And therefore they are to be condemned, which say they can no more sin as long as they live here, or deny the place of forgiveness to such as truly repent.; and encourages us to further repentance.
Confession signals that the Christian life is an ongoing act of repentance, steeped in recognition of the holiness of the character of God himself. It points us back to the great salvation-historical moments of redemption, and most especially to the cross of Christ as the once-for-all sacrifice for sin. Confession is effective because of the advocacy of Christ in before the throne of God in his present heavenly session. This is not in any way to compromise the assurance of a clean conscience that the Christian ought to experience – as the doctrine of justification by faith alone teaches. As Calvin writes: The godly man enjoys a pure conscience before the Lord, thus confirming himself in the promises with which the Lord comforts and supports his true worshippers. It is not our intent to snatch this true blessing from his breast; rather we would assert that his assurance his prayers will be answered rests solely upon God’s clemency, apart from all consideration of personal merit. Confession is, in fact, a great recognition of the security and sure hope of an answer that is given in the gospel of Jesus Christ – while at the same time, being recognition of the seriousness with which the Christian takes sin. It is therefore important to encourage a practice of confession individually and corporately among God’s people; but alongside this to declare the gospel of grace – in this sense fulfilling Jesus’ commission to the apostles in John 20:23.
6. Confession as therapy?
We probably shouldn’t despise the therapeutic effects of confession either. James 5:14-16 reads: 14 Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. 16 Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective. The confession in this instance is mutual and communal rather private. The healing effects of the experience of forgiveness are palpable.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Confessing 1
The Christian life is, while united into the family of God by the Spirit in Christ Jesus and living in the expectation of being perfected, still haunted by sin, and acknowledged by the Christian to be so.
1. Forgive us our sins?
Confession means admitting that one’s actions have been displeasing to God. If we say we have no sin says the author of 1 John, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. On the other hand if we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1:8-9). Is John merely talking about the beginning of the Christian life here, or is he rather saying that the whole of the Christian life ought to be marked the habit of confessing one’s sins? The context would seem to demand understand this confession in an ongoing sense. But does this then undermine justification by grace through faith? If the Christian is already walking in the light, and cleansed from all sin by the blood of Jesus (vs 5-6) – then what need is there of a habit of confession of sin? Does this not merely tempt us to despair? The problem is: what to do with Christian sin. What effect do sins have on the Christian life?
2. Confession in Roman Catholicism
The Roman Catholic Church insists on a sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. Though it inaugurates the new life of grace, baptism does not abolish the weakness in our human nature. Neither does it remove our concupiscence – our inclination to sin. Thus, Christ instituted the sacrament in order to enable the conversion of the baptised (John 20:22-23). This conversion involves first of all contrition – which is an interior movement of the heart in sorrow for one’s sins and with a firm intention not to sin again. Confession is to be made, via the intermediary action of the priest, of all mortal sin. These have to be remembered and enumerated. Prayers can be part of an act of penance, which then prepares the way for reconciliation of the sinner with God at the Eucharist.
3. Confessing in The Old Testament
Part of Adam and Eve’s fall involves their refusal to accept responsibility for their actions. Rather, they blame others. It is not a surprise that things are meant to be different. The Levitical sacrifices involved an act of confession of sin over the head of the sacrificial animal (Lev 1:4, 16:21). However, it is in the historical narratives that confession becomes significant for Israel, especially in the midst of national calamity. Inspired by the prophecies of Jeremiah, Daniel makes an extensive confession of Israel’s sins to God. The confession in particular emphasises the consistency and faithfulness of God to his promises in contrast to the faithlessness of Israel. His plea for mercy focuses on the memory of the Exodus and the fact that Israel’s restoration will bring glory to Yhwh’s name. In post-exilic Israel, Ezra makes a shame-faced prayer of confession to God on behalf of the people (Ez 9:5-15; see also Neh 9:6-37 and Isaiah 64:1-12). These are collective, national prayer-acts occasioned by particular moments of Israel’s history; but significantly, they are articulations of the kind of repentant spirit that prepares the way for the salvation of Yhwh. A more personal prayer of confession is given to us in Ps 32 (see also Ps 25) – but the attitude and purpose are the same. Confession of sin, individual and corporate, is the proper preparation for the saving intervention of Yhwh. This is not because it forces God’s hand, but because it prepares the way for atonement and forgiveness.
1. Forgive us our sins?
Confession means admitting that one’s actions have been displeasing to God. If we say we have no sin says the author of 1 John, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. On the other hand if we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1:8-9). Is John merely talking about the beginning of the Christian life here, or is he rather saying that the whole of the Christian life ought to be marked the habit of confessing one’s sins? The context would seem to demand understand this confession in an ongoing sense. But does this then undermine justification by grace through faith? If the Christian is already walking in the light, and cleansed from all sin by the blood of Jesus (vs 5-6) – then what need is there of a habit of confession of sin? Does this not merely tempt us to despair? The problem is: what to do with Christian sin. What effect do sins have on the Christian life?
2. Confession in Roman Catholicism
The Roman Catholic Church insists on a sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. Though it inaugurates the new life of grace, baptism does not abolish the weakness in our human nature. Neither does it remove our concupiscence – our inclination to sin. Thus, Christ instituted the sacrament in order to enable the conversion of the baptised (John 20:22-23). This conversion involves first of all contrition – which is an interior movement of the heart in sorrow for one’s sins and with a firm intention not to sin again. Confession is to be made, via the intermediary action of the priest, of all mortal sin. These have to be remembered and enumerated. Prayers can be part of an act of penance, which then prepares the way for reconciliation of the sinner with God at the Eucharist.
3. Confessing in The Old Testament
Part of Adam and Eve’s fall involves their refusal to accept responsibility for their actions. Rather, they blame others. It is not a surprise that things are meant to be different. The Levitical sacrifices involved an act of confession of sin over the head of the sacrificial animal (Lev 1:4, 16:21). However, it is in the historical narratives that confession becomes significant for Israel, especially in the midst of national calamity. Inspired by the prophecies of Jeremiah, Daniel makes an extensive confession of Israel’s sins to God. The confession in particular emphasises the consistency and faithfulness of God to his promises in contrast to the faithlessness of Israel. His plea for mercy focuses on the memory of the Exodus and the fact that Israel’s restoration will bring glory to Yhwh’s name. In post-exilic Israel, Ezra makes a shame-faced prayer of confession to God on behalf of the people (Ez 9:5-15; see also Neh 9:6-37 and Isaiah 64:1-12). These are collective, national prayer-acts occasioned by particular moments of Israel’s history; but significantly, they are articulations of the kind of repentant spirit that prepares the way for the salvation of Yhwh. A more personal prayer of confession is given to us in Ps 32 (see also Ps 25) – but the attitude and purpose are the same. Confession of sin, individual and corporate, is the proper preparation for the saving intervention of Yhwh. This is not because it forces God’s hand, but because it prepares the way for atonement and forgiveness.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Asking 2
4. Petitioning
Barth and others make a very strong case that, in the first instance, prayer is petitionary: an asking, seeking and knocking directed towards God. Of course, this must and will involve praise and thanksgiving and confession. But in petitioning, the praying subject comes to God with nothing and on nothing dependent except for the knowledge that God is gracious and loving and has promised to give to those who ask. The prayer of asking, if it is to be a Christian prayer, ‘derives from what the Christian already receives’. It is an asking which already knows that God has drawn near to us in his Son. Addressing God as ‘Father’, as we are bidden to do by Jesus, means that the request depends on an already existing relationship between God and us. The gospel declares to us how this is possible, of course: by the purification of our sins through the blood of Jesus Christ and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit into our hearts, we receive the gift of Son-ship (Gal 4:6-7). Jesus’ reassurances about asking and the providence of God in the Sermon on the Mount point towards his own saving action – it is not merely general providence that refers.
5. What we can ask for
The man who really prays comes to God and approaches and speak to Him because he seeks something of God, because he desires and expects something, because he hopes to receive something which he needs, something which he does not hope to receive from anyone else, but does definitely hope to receive from God. Karl Barth (C.D. III.iii.268) There is in principle nothing for which the Christian cannot ask. Christian asking is premised on the generous character of God our Father, who knows already our needs before we ask (Matt 6:8) and who loves to give to those who ask. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him! Asking God is greatly preferable to the murderous wrestle with others for things (see James 4:2-3). The petitions of the Lord’s Prayer however remind us of the nature of the times in which we are living – that we pray not only on account of and according to God’s general providence, but also on account of and according to his special providence. We learn to pray for God’s will to be done – not because this is some remorseless impersonal force, but because we recognize his wisdom and sovereignty alongside his Fatherly care of us. And we are permitted to wrestle with God in our prayers. We see this in the Psalms of course, which give voice to human doubts. The remarkable instance is of course Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. The pleading of the Son - that it be some other way - clearly do not fall outside the bounds of what is righteous behavior for the creature. At the same time he acknowledges the priority of the Father’s will – which is done, and revealed to us, by the crucifying of the messiah. The prayer of Paul for the Colossians that they be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding (1:9) points not to some secret knowledge of providence, but to the revelation of the will of God the Father in the cross of the Son. Praying for the provision of daily bread – or the eschatological bread – points to the way in which the Lord Jesus is the answer to the prayer he teaches his disciples. The special providential nature of prayer does not negate the general providential aspect – rather it orders it, in Christ, to an eschatological end.
6. What we get
What can expect when we pray? Firstly, we can expect that our prayers are heard by a God who as our Father wants for our good, and has provided for us in Christ. Secondly, we can expect that he delights to use and respond to our prayers. The NT always speaks as if God responds to our prayers in ‘real time’ (not just that by chance our prayers coincide with what was decided beforehand). Thirdly, we can expect in particular to receive the counsel and knowledge of the will of God that the Holy Spirit provides as we pray. Not for nothing Calvin calls prayer a treasure. As he describes it, prayer to the Father through the Son in the power of the Spirit is itself its own answer.
7. So – pray without ceasing!
Why not? It seems that prayer is an undiscovered benefit of the Christian life for many of us – an un-exercised muscle that is surprisingly powerful when finally it is put to use. We neglect to pray because we don’t see how good God is, and what treasures lie stored up for us in prayer. What is more, we don’t pray because we don’t grasp the power and majesty of God. We confine our prayers, afraid to ask for too much, as if God were somehow either too stingy or too puny to give us what we ask for. What we need is to cultivate our faith in God’s goodness and his greatness – both of them unmistakeably revealed to us in the Son, by the Holy Spirit.
Barth and others make a very strong case that, in the first instance, prayer is petitionary: an asking, seeking and knocking directed towards God. Of course, this must and will involve praise and thanksgiving and confession. But in petitioning, the praying subject comes to God with nothing and on nothing dependent except for the knowledge that God is gracious and loving and has promised to give to those who ask. The prayer of asking, if it is to be a Christian prayer, ‘derives from what the Christian already receives’. It is an asking which already knows that God has drawn near to us in his Son. Addressing God as ‘Father’, as we are bidden to do by Jesus, means that the request depends on an already existing relationship between God and us. The gospel declares to us how this is possible, of course: by the purification of our sins through the blood of Jesus Christ and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit into our hearts, we receive the gift of Son-ship (Gal 4:6-7). Jesus’ reassurances about asking and the providence of God in the Sermon on the Mount point towards his own saving action – it is not merely general providence that refers.
5. What we can ask for
The man who really prays comes to God and approaches and speak to Him because he seeks something of God, because he desires and expects something, because he hopes to receive something which he needs, something which he does not hope to receive from anyone else, but does definitely hope to receive from God. Karl Barth (C.D. III.iii.268) There is in principle nothing for which the Christian cannot ask. Christian asking is premised on the generous character of God our Father, who knows already our needs before we ask (Matt 6:8) and who loves to give to those who ask. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him! Asking God is greatly preferable to the murderous wrestle with others for things (see James 4:2-3). The petitions of the Lord’s Prayer however remind us of the nature of the times in which we are living – that we pray not only on account of and according to God’s general providence, but also on account of and according to his special providence. We learn to pray for God’s will to be done – not because this is some remorseless impersonal force, but because we recognize his wisdom and sovereignty alongside his Fatherly care of us. And we are permitted to wrestle with God in our prayers. We see this in the Psalms of course, which give voice to human doubts. The remarkable instance is of course Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. The pleading of the Son - that it be some other way - clearly do not fall outside the bounds of what is righteous behavior for the creature. At the same time he acknowledges the priority of the Father’s will – which is done, and revealed to us, by the crucifying of the messiah. The prayer of Paul for the Colossians that they be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding (1:9) points not to some secret knowledge of providence, but to the revelation of the will of God the Father in the cross of the Son. Praying for the provision of daily bread – or the eschatological bread – points to the way in which the Lord Jesus is the answer to the prayer he teaches his disciples. The special providential nature of prayer does not negate the general providential aspect – rather it orders it, in Christ, to an eschatological end.
6. What we get
What can expect when we pray? Firstly, we can expect that our prayers are heard by a God who as our Father wants for our good, and has provided for us in Christ. Secondly, we can expect that he delights to use and respond to our prayers. The NT always speaks as if God responds to our prayers in ‘real time’ (not just that by chance our prayers coincide with what was decided beforehand). Thirdly, we can expect in particular to receive the counsel and knowledge of the will of God that the Holy Spirit provides as we pray. Not for nothing Calvin calls prayer a treasure. As he describes it, prayer to the Father through the Son in the power of the Spirit is itself its own answer.
7. So – pray without ceasing!
Why not? It seems that prayer is an undiscovered benefit of the Christian life for many of us – an un-exercised muscle that is surprisingly powerful when finally it is put to use. We neglect to pray because we don’t see how good God is, and what treasures lie stored up for us in prayer. What is more, we don’t pray because we don’t grasp the power and majesty of God. We confine our prayers, afraid to ask for too much, as if God were somehow either too stingy or too puny to give us what we ask for. What we need is to cultivate our faith in God’s goodness and his greatness – both of them unmistakeably revealed to us in the Son, by the Holy Spirit.
For whom Christ died, and John Calvin on the radio
I am part of a three-sided discussion on Michael Bird's blog on the thorny issue of 'For whom did Christ die?' My formidible opponents are Ben Witherington and Paul Helm!! Lucky I have got truth on my side ;-)
Last night I was part of a panel discussion on ABC Radio about John Calvin's influence. You can listen in here, when the podcast becomes available.
Last night I was part of a panel discussion on ABC Radio about John Calvin's influence. You can listen in here, when the podcast becomes available.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Asking 1
The Christian recognizes the providence of God as it is realized in the cross and resurrection of Christ Jesus, and is unafraid to ask for what she needs; while at the same time praying ‘your will be done’...
1. The absurdity of what we are doing
Talking about and analysing prayer is a fraught practice. It is possible that dismembering prayer like this will dishonour the God to whom we pray. Just as an analysis of humour is rarely funny, a analysis of prayer can stifle prayer. It is worth reminding ourselves that prayer is not in the end an activity that can be really understood from the outside, despite what William James might have thought. Having said that, thinking about prayer is vital, since there is so much anxiety and confusion amongst Christians about prayer and what it is.
2. Why we don’t pray
On the one side, our ability to pray is effected by our flesh – its tiredness, its proneness to distraction, its desires and needs. The husband is given the wife as a co-heir, ‘so that nothing may hinder his prayers’. Sexual abstinence between a married couple is only permitted by Paul for the purpose of prayer (1 Cor 7:5). Fasting is seen (though not commanded) as an accompaniment to prayer (Matt 6; Acts 13:3) – is this a reminder that prayer is many ways an onerous task requiring from us the self-mastery that we can only get from the Holy Spirit? On the other side, the failure to pray is actually often a fault in faith. That is, it is a misapprehension of who God is that deadens our prayers. This is not merely a flaw in our conception of God – it seems to be a flaw in the affections, a deficit in love for God. Authentic prayer is heartfelt, a genuine expression of our own dependence on God – hence the priority of private prayer given in Matt 6.
3. Motivated to pray?
So, what is the remedy to prayerlessness? Rightly, we fear making prayer a kind of work; or, we fear making prayer itself become a means for impressing God, or of nagging him. Calvin’s answer is simply that we are commanded to pray, on the one hand; but that this command comes attached to a promise of much benefit to us. Ask, and it shall be given to you. The person who comes to God in prayer therefore exercises both submission to his command and also trust in his promises. That is to say, the desire to pray is cultivated best by a deeper knowledge of the character of God. Calvin concludes: ‘accordingly, among our prayers, meditation both on God’s nature and on his Word is by no means superfluous’ (Calvin, Institutes III.20.13)
(To be continued...)
1. The absurdity of what we are doing
Talking about and analysing prayer is a fraught practice. It is possible that dismembering prayer like this will dishonour the God to whom we pray. Just as an analysis of humour is rarely funny, a analysis of prayer can stifle prayer. It is worth reminding ourselves that prayer is not in the end an activity that can be really understood from the outside, despite what William James might have thought. Having said that, thinking about prayer is vital, since there is so much anxiety and confusion amongst Christians about prayer and what it is.
2. Why we don’t pray
On the one side, our ability to pray is effected by our flesh – its tiredness, its proneness to distraction, its desires and needs. The husband is given the wife as a co-heir, ‘so that nothing may hinder his prayers’. Sexual abstinence between a married couple is only permitted by Paul for the purpose of prayer (1 Cor 7:5). Fasting is seen (though not commanded) as an accompaniment to prayer (Matt 6; Acts 13:3) – is this a reminder that prayer is many ways an onerous task requiring from us the self-mastery that we can only get from the Holy Spirit? On the other side, the failure to pray is actually often a fault in faith. That is, it is a misapprehension of who God is that deadens our prayers. This is not merely a flaw in our conception of God – it seems to be a flaw in the affections, a deficit in love for God. Authentic prayer is heartfelt, a genuine expression of our own dependence on God – hence the priority of private prayer given in Matt 6.
3. Motivated to pray?
So, what is the remedy to prayerlessness? Rightly, we fear making prayer a kind of work; or, we fear making prayer itself become a means for impressing God, or of nagging him. Calvin’s answer is simply that we are commanded to pray, on the one hand; but that this command comes attached to a promise of much benefit to us. Ask, and it shall be given to you. The person who comes to God in prayer therefore exercises both submission to his command and also trust in his promises. That is to say, the desire to pray is cultivated best by a deeper knowledge of the character of God. Calvin concludes: ‘accordingly, among our prayers, meditation both on God’s nature and on his Word is by no means superfluous’ (Calvin, Institutes III.20.13)
(To be continued...)
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Thanksgiving
The Christian acknowledges God as the gracious source of all good things, in the creation and in redemption, and receives them with thanksgiving.
1. Another impossibility in the Christian life?
How could we ever thank him who made us and redeemed us? It seems presumptive that our thanks could ever be an adequate response to that we have received in Christ. But that is because we tend to lapse back into thinking of divine-human relations a operating according to an exchange economy. Human gratitude could never be the response which triggers the acceptance of God, or which forms a return of grace in some way. Properly understood, thanksgiving in prayer is the appropriate response to grace. Since faith is merely a taking hold of the promises of God, thanksgiving could never be more than this. Faith and thanksgiving are linked in just this way in the story of the tenth, Samaritan leper who alone returns to Jesus in thanks and to whom Jesus says ‘your faith has healed you’. (Luke 17:12-18). The story is as much an indictment on the nine, Israelite lepers who were ungrateful as it is a celebration of the gratitude of the Samaritan.
2. The antitype of gratitude: Israel in the desert
The experience of Israel in the desert illustrates for us the very reverse of the right response to the redemption wrought by Yhwh. If they are condemned for anything, it is for the sin of ingratitude. They forgot the blessings that they had received at his hand. They grumbled about his provision for them of food and drink. They complained about his invisibility and lack of immediacy. From this sin we may perhaps learn its opposite. We too live between Egypt and the promised land – and much we experience challenges the goodness of God. Like praise, the acts of thanksgiving remembers and rehearses the great deeds of God, appreciative of the blessings that he showers upon us and turning us to him in hope. In thanksgiving, the pray-er not only retells the great deeds of God: she recalls receiving the benefits of them for herself. As it turns out, Paul identifies a lack of thanks as crucial to the spiritual blindness of the human race as a whole in Romans 1:20-21. 20 Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse; 21 for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened.
3. The Psalms and thanksgiving
The thank offerings commanded as part of the sacrificial system (Lev 7:11-16) are, it could be suggested, designed to ensure that Israel did not forget to give thanks again. Whatever the case, the Psalms are overflowing with thankfulness to God. Some twenty or so Psalms enjoin Israel to thank the Lord: O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever. 2 Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, those he redeemed from trouble 3 and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.(Psalm 107:1-3). Once again we need to ponder the relevance of the Psalms for the Christian life – they articulate the pattern of prayerful response to the grace of God.
4. Jesus gives thanks
At several moments in Jesus’ life he gave thanks to his Father. Most often he did this over food – at the feeding of the five thousand, and at the Last Supper. Once again, there is in this receiving of food a counter to the ungratefulness of the Exodus generation for God’s provision for food. There is also a pointer to the significance of food as a symbol of God’s gift of the body of the substitute. Jesus also thanks the Father for having heard him (John 11:41) and for the paradoxical miracle of the revelation of the divine mysteries (Matt 11:25). That the Son thanks the Father shows grace and thanksgiving to be a part of the divine life
Thanking God and glorifying him belong together. This is why doxology and the closely related hymns have remained basic in Christian prayer. But in content the original Christian hymn is through and through Christological. Christian doxology extols God’s action in sending the Son and the glorifying of the Son by the Spirit. It is thus Trinitarian doxology in which thanking God for his redeeming work is taken up into the adoration of his manifested deity that now already anticipates the eschatological praising of God by the community that is brought to fulfilment in the new creation.
Wolfhart Pannenberg (Systematic Theology III.208)itself. Jesus’ prayer life, as the exemplary human worshipper, features thanksgiving, even though the model prayer he offers his disciple does not.
5. Early Christian prayer
Despite this lack of thanks in the Lord’s prayer, the motif of thanksgiving is ubiquitous in the prayers of the early church. Paul especially cannot pray without giving thanks. Paul wants all requests to God to be made with thanksgiving (Phil 4:6) and that unceasing prayer redound with thanks (1 Thess 5:18). As Pannenberg explains, gratitude for God’s saving action in Christ gives Christian prayer its context. Already as creatures we owe thanks to God (Rom 1:21); now in the power of the Spirit of Sonship we are able to thank the Father as we truly ought. Further, Paul’s prayers of thanks repeatedly mention the work of God in other Christians as God’s grace to him.
1. Another impossibility in the Christian life?
How could we ever thank him who made us and redeemed us? It seems presumptive that our thanks could ever be an adequate response to that we have received in Christ. But that is because we tend to lapse back into thinking of divine-human relations a operating according to an exchange economy. Human gratitude could never be the response which triggers the acceptance of God, or which forms a return of grace in some way. Properly understood, thanksgiving in prayer is the appropriate response to grace. Since faith is merely a taking hold of the promises of God, thanksgiving could never be more than this. Faith and thanksgiving are linked in just this way in the story of the tenth, Samaritan leper who alone returns to Jesus in thanks and to whom Jesus says ‘your faith has healed you’. (Luke 17:12-18). The story is as much an indictment on the nine, Israelite lepers who were ungrateful as it is a celebration of the gratitude of the Samaritan.
2. The antitype of gratitude: Israel in the desert
The experience of Israel in the desert illustrates for us the very reverse of the right response to the redemption wrought by Yhwh. If they are condemned for anything, it is for the sin of ingratitude. They forgot the blessings that they had received at his hand. They grumbled about his provision for them of food and drink. They complained about his invisibility and lack of immediacy. From this sin we may perhaps learn its opposite. We too live between Egypt and the promised land – and much we experience challenges the goodness of God. Like praise, the acts of thanksgiving remembers and rehearses the great deeds of God, appreciative of the blessings that he showers upon us and turning us to him in hope. In thanksgiving, the pray-er not only retells the great deeds of God: she recalls receiving the benefits of them for herself. As it turns out, Paul identifies a lack of thanks as crucial to the spiritual blindness of the human race as a whole in Romans 1:20-21. 20 Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse; 21 for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened.
3. The Psalms and thanksgiving
The thank offerings commanded as part of the sacrificial system (Lev 7:11-16) are, it could be suggested, designed to ensure that Israel did not forget to give thanks again. Whatever the case, the Psalms are overflowing with thankfulness to God. Some twenty or so Psalms enjoin Israel to thank the Lord: O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever. 2 Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, those he redeemed from trouble 3 and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.(Psalm 107:1-3). Once again we need to ponder the relevance of the Psalms for the Christian life – they articulate the pattern of prayerful response to the grace of God.
4. Jesus gives thanks
At several moments in Jesus’ life he gave thanks to his Father. Most often he did this over food – at the feeding of the five thousand, and at the Last Supper. Once again, there is in this receiving of food a counter to the ungratefulness of the Exodus generation for God’s provision for food. There is also a pointer to the significance of food as a symbol of God’s gift of the body of the substitute. Jesus also thanks the Father for having heard him (John 11:41) and for the paradoxical miracle of the revelation of the divine mysteries (Matt 11:25). That the Son thanks the Father shows grace and thanksgiving to be a part of the divine life
Thanking God and glorifying him belong together. This is why doxology and the closely related hymns have remained basic in Christian prayer. But in content the original Christian hymn is through and through Christological. Christian doxology extols God’s action in sending the Son and the glorifying of the Son by the Spirit. It is thus Trinitarian doxology in which thanking God for his redeeming work is taken up into the adoration of his manifested deity that now already anticipates the eschatological praising of God by the community that is brought to fulfilment in the new creation.
Wolfhart Pannenberg (Systematic Theology III.208)itself. Jesus’ prayer life, as the exemplary human worshipper, features thanksgiving, even though the model prayer he offers his disciple does not.
5. Early Christian prayer
Despite this lack of thanks in the Lord’s prayer, the motif of thanksgiving is ubiquitous in the prayers of the early church. Paul especially cannot pray without giving thanks. Paul wants all requests to God to be made with thanksgiving (Phil 4:6) and that unceasing prayer redound with thanks (1 Thess 5:18). As Pannenberg explains, gratitude for God’s saving action in Christ gives Christian prayer its context. Already as creatures we owe thanks to God (Rom 1:21); now in the power of the Spirit of Sonship we are able to thank the Father as we truly ought. Further, Paul’s prayers of thanks repeatedly mention the work of God in other Christians as God’s grace to him.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Saturday, August 08, 2009
The sacrifice of praise
Doxology seems to be a good place to start an account of prayer because it is the eschatological picture of prayer. It is the task of the creature as a creature to glorify God; and so it will be in the end, in the final gathering around the throne. This is not merely to please God’s own vanity, but because it is the right purpose of the creature and brings the greatest dignity to the creature. This is the picture of Revelation with its numerous hymns.
But certainly, praise pleases God. In Hebrews 13:15 we read: Through him, then, let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name. There is no sense in which, of course, this praise of God is justifying. It is not the performance of a condition. It is only ‘through him’ that this ‘pleasing’ of God is enabled. But it is the case that in him the sinful human being is enabled to get on with the task of living out the call of human beings to please him. It pleases God in that the creature is praising him: not that he needs to know the information contained in the doxology, or craves compliments, but rather that he craves the worship of his people.
That it pleases God makes praise an inescapably aesthetic act. As a form of words, praise elicits from creatures their creativity and imagination. Praise is not the rapid and efficient transferral of information – rather it exists for the enjoyment of the recipient. Praise involves detailing and cataloguing the praiseworthy features of the person involved. It takes time. The setting of praise to music is not accidental. Praise is, then, sacrificial in that involves the time and the creativity of the praiser.
Praise is a theological act, because right praise involves a true doctrine of God. It involves recalling God’s characteristics revealed in his great acts. The Psalms frequently rehearse Israel’s history and infer from these encounters with Yhwh his praiseworthy characteristics. In the NT, it is not surprising that praise becomes thoroughly Christological in content. Christian praise recalls and rehearses the particular and decisive work of God in Christ. The great examples are of course the Philippian and Colossian hymns. The chorus of praise is led by Christ (Heb 2:12) but also has Christ as its object.
Declaring the praises of God has a missionary dimension as well (1 Peter 2:9-10). It is part of the mediatorial calling of the church that they are to amplify the praise of God in the hearing of the nations. But this is not to reduce the praise of God merely to a horizontal act for the benefit of humans. It is, miraculously, in Christ, something we can do for God.
But certainly, praise pleases God. In Hebrews 13:15 we read: Through him, then, let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name. There is no sense in which, of course, this praise of God is justifying. It is not the performance of a condition. It is only ‘through him’ that this ‘pleasing’ of God is enabled. But it is the case that in him the sinful human being is enabled to get on with the task of living out the call of human beings to please him. It pleases God in that the creature is praising him: not that he needs to know the information contained in the doxology, or craves compliments, but rather that he craves the worship of his people.
That it pleases God makes praise an inescapably aesthetic act. As a form of words, praise elicits from creatures their creativity and imagination. Praise is not the rapid and efficient transferral of information – rather it exists for the enjoyment of the recipient. Praise involves detailing and cataloguing the praiseworthy features of the person involved. It takes time. The setting of praise to music is not accidental. Praise is, then, sacrificial in that involves the time and the creativity of the praiser.
Praise is a theological act, because right praise involves a true doctrine of God. It involves recalling God’s characteristics revealed in his great acts. The Psalms frequently rehearse Israel’s history and infer from these encounters with Yhwh his praiseworthy characteristics. In the NT, it is not surprising that praise becomes thoroughly Christological in content. Christian praise recalls and rehearses the particular and decisive work of God in Christ. The great examples are of course the Philippian and Colossian hymns. The chorus of praise is led by Christ (Heb 2:12) but also has Christ as its object.
Declaring the praises of God has a missionary dimension as well (1 Peter 2:9-10). It is part of the mediatorial calling of the church that they are to amplify the praise of God in the hearing of the nations. But this is not to reduce the praise of God merely to a horizontal act for the benefit of humans. It is, miraculously, in Christ, something we can do for God.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
The Perseverance of the Saint
Reformed theologians, developing the tradition of Augustine, have always asserted that the work of perseverance is a divine work. There are of course many, many texts in scripture that urge believers to vigilance and perseverance to the end, to remain in Christ, to continue in faith and so on. There are texts that certainly speak as if one could deny the faith: 1 Cor 10:12, 2 Peter 2:1 and so on. Most theological traditions have taught therefore that it is possible to lose grace once one has received it. The question is, however, whether God could allow a grace he begins to be ruined by the power of sin. Even Augustine divided into two the kinds of grace a believer receives, asserting that only the second, superadded grace produced perseverance.
The Reformed have explained by contrast that perseverance is a work of God through believers. In regeneration and faith he gives a grace that is unbreakable and inadmissible. The admonitions and warnings of scripture are ‘the way in which God himself confirms his promise and gift through believers’ (Bavinck). Apostates in scripture (1 Tim 4:1, Heb 6:4-8, 2 Pet 2:18-22) must, according to Bavinck, be either examples of incomplete apostasy (later restored?) or evidence of false conversion in the first place. Although I think his exegesis at these points is stretched beyond credulity, the theological point is a good one: God cannot/does not break his own covenant. Even Paul mourning over Israel does not conclude the God is faithless, even when Israel is. Rightly construed, the doctrine is of great assurance and comfort to Christian believers – God who begins a good work in us will bring it to completion (Phil 1:6). The Christian life is not fragile, even though it is tested.
The Reformed doctrine should not however be the cause of undue speculation as to one's inward state, nor should it give rise to passivity. The warnings to endure and to resist should be heeded as serious, live warnings. Hebrews seems able to blend at the one time both admonishment and comfort – which makes sense if perseverance, like the Christian life itself, is a divine work in and through human agents. It is the inward search for a certainty of one's own heart that makes the doctrine disturbing just when it is claimed it should be most comforting. Actually, the comfort lies in the character of God revealed in Christ: that even human weakness is not an obstacle to his purposes. But human fickleness is not thereby excused.
Perhaps the doctrine is better labelled 'the perseverance of the saint'. There was one who perservered, and so we can hold out confident hope of our own perseverance. Christ was tempted in every way as we are but did not sin.
The Reformed have explained by contrast that perseverance is a work of God through believers. In regeneration and faith he gives a grace that is unbreakable and inadmissible. The admonitions and warnings of scripture are ‘the way in which God himself confirms his promise and gift through believers’ (Bavinck). Apostates in scripture (1 Tim 4:1, Heb 6:4-8, 2 Pet 2:18-22) must, according to Bavinck, be either examples of incomplete apostasy (later restored?) or evidence of false conversion in the first place. Although I think his exegesis at these points is stretched beyond credulity, the theological point is a good one: God cannot/does not break his own covenant. Even Paul mourning over Israel does not conclude the God is faithless, even when Israel is. Rightly construed, the doctrine is of great assurance and comfort to Christian believers – God who begins a good work in us will bring it to completion (Phil 1:6). The Christian life is not fragile, even though it is tested.
The Reformed doctrine should not however be the cause of undue speculation as to one's inward state, nor should it give rise to passivity. The warnings to endure and to resist should be heeded as serious, live warnings. Hebrews seems able to blend at the one time both admonishment and comfort – which makes sense if perseverance, like the Christian life itself, is a divine work in and through human agents. It is the inward search for a certainty of one's own heart that makes the doctrine disturbing just when it is claimed it should be most comforting. Actually, the comfort lies in the character of God revealed in Christ: that even human weakness is not an obstacle to his purposes. But human fickleness is not thereby excused.
Perhaps the doctrine is better labelled 'the perseverance of the saint'. There was one who perservered, and so we can hold out confident hope of our own perseverance. Christ was tempted in every way as we are but did not sin.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Is it just me, or is there a decency pattern emerging?
Ok, a theory. In the last couple of years in Australian public and media affairs, things seems to have taken a surprisingly conservative turn towards 'the decent'. Firstly, Big Brother got cancelled. Then there was outrage at the Bill Henson affair - mystifying the artistic community. Then the success of the uber-nice Masterchef. The outrages over Matty Johns (footballer and orgyist), The Chaser and now Kyle and Jackie O.
In almost every case, there has been a volley of opprobrium aimed at media figure who transgressed. I am alarmed somewhat by the way in which no forgiveness seems possible in this, I have to say. But I wonder if it is premature to surmise that Australians are:
1 - sick of having the freedom of public speech, or the freedom to behave as you want, abused;
2 - sick of the coarsening of the public space;
3 - unwilling to use law to respond to it;
4 - barely able to articulate why it is so, but finding common ground with many others on what 'the good' might look like all of a sudden.
Interesting times...
In almost every case, there has been a volley of opprobrium aimed at media figure who transgressed. I am alarmed somewhat by the way in which no forgiveness seems possible in this, I have to say. But I wonder if it is premature to surmise that Australians are:
1 - sick of having the freedom of public speech, or the freedom to behave as you want, abused;
2 - sick of the coarsening of the public space;
3 - unwilling to use law to respond to it;
4 - barely able to articulate why it is so, but finding common ground with many others on what 'the good' might look like all of a sudden.
Interesting times...
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Reading a life
Biographies prove to be one of the best-selling niches in the book industry. There is something about the attempt to capture in one narrative the course of a human life that is always fascinating to those of us who have to live human lives in search of meaning. This is especially the case if the person is remarkable in some way, though the biography of an ordinary person who lived in extraordinary times can have its own fascination.
And how does one encapsulate a life in a single literary narrative and do it justice? Of course, the biographer must always be somewhat aware of the artificiality of the process. They have to weave a coherent story from what is necessarily fragmentary – from such letters that survive, from the eyewitnesses that are willing to speak about the person, from their knowledge of the context of the person’s life. From all this external material, they have to give us what we modern readers want to know – an insight into the motives and feelings of another person. From what is on the outside we try to get at what is on the inside.
This is very much an idea that has a Christian, and especially Protestant, source. The idea of self-examination, of scrutinising motives and temptations, of revealing one’s secrets, of the human self being a coherent whole – these are ideas that enter into Western culture through Christianity. If you read ancient biographies (such as those of Plutarch) the focus is on the character’s outward actions rather than on their inner life.
And, as we know, giving a bare record of a person’s words and actions is of limited interest and makes for a very dull biography! The good biographer gives us an explanation, not simply a description.
That is, a biographer acts as a judge. But how should this be done without knowing everything? What is really the key to summing up a life?
It is not surprising, therefore, that biographies can be extremely controversial. One of my favourites, The Passion of Michel Foucault, caused an enormous stir when it was published and resulted in a number of counter-biographies. Poet Les Murray’s biography, written by Peter Alexander, was originally pulped because of its contentious material.
Here are some biographies that, to my mind, have succeeded the best. The list is limited by my limited reading – guided of course by my prejudices! Which would you add?
Patrick White: A Life, by David Marr. A truly outstanding account of a difficult genius, written with the co-operation of his subject but none the less sparing us none of his faults. It is hard to think of a better model of what a biography should be.
Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius, by Ray Monk. This is a moving account of a truly remarkable man. I learned much affection for this complicated and surprisingly spiritual man from Monk’s work.
Vaclav Havel: A Political Life in Six Acts by John Keane. Keane experiments by trying to narrate the Czech president’s life as a quasi-Shakespearean tragedy – including speculating about his future funeral. It doesn’t quite work, but the journey is filled with grand views on mid-20th century life.
Philip Larkin: A Writer’s Life by Andrew Motion. Fans of Larkin weren’t quite ready for what they discovered in Motion’s work, which revealed the unpleasant private truth about one of England’s favourite literary sons. But it is a humanly true biography: great genius and humanity exists side by side with the sordid and the petty.
And how does one encapsulate a life in a single literary narrative and do it justice? Of course, the biographer must always be somewhat aware of the artificiality of the process. They have to weave a coherent story from what is necessarily fragmentary – from such letters that survive, from the eyewitnesses that are willing to speak about the person, from their knowledge of the context of the person’s life. From all this external material, they have to give us what we modern readers want to know – an insight into the motives and feelings of another person. From what is on the outside we try to get at what is on the inside.
This is very much an idea that has a Christian, and especially Protestant, source. The idea of self-examination, of scrutinising motives and temptations, of revealing one’s secrets, of the human self being a coherent whole – these are ideas that enter into Western culture through Christianity. If you read ancient biographies (such as those of Plutarch) the focus is on the character’s outward actions rather than on their inner life.
And, as we know, giving a bare record of a person’s words and actions is of limited interest and makes for a very dull biography! The good biographer gives us an explanation, not simply a description.
That is, a biographer acts as a judge. But how should this be done without knowing everything? What is really the key to summing up a life?
It is not surprising, therefore, that biographies can be extremely controversial. One of my favourites, The Passion of Michel Foucault, caused an enormous stir when it was published and resulted in a number of counter-biographies. Poet Les Murray’s biography, written by Peter Alexander, was originally pulped because of its contentious material.
Here are some biographies that, to my mind, have succeeded the best. The list is limited by my limited reading – guided of course by my prejudices! Which would you add?
Patrick White: A Life, by David Marr. A truly outstanding account of a difficult genius, written with the co-operation of his subject but none the less sparing us none of his faults. It is hard to think of a better model of what a biography should be.
Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius, by Ray Monk. This is a moving account of a truly remarkable man. I learned much affection for this complicated and surprisingly spiritual man from Monk’s work.
Vaclav Havel: A Political Life in Six Acts by John Keane. Keane experiments by trying to narrate the Czech president’s life as a quasi-Shakespearean tragedy – including speculating about his future funeral. It doesn’t quite work, but the journey is filled with grand views on mid-20th century life.
Philip Larkin: A Writer’s Life by Andrew Motion. Fans of Larkin weren’t quite ready for what they discovered in Motion’s work, which revealed the unpleasant private truth about one of England’s favourite literary sons. But it is a humanly true biography: great genius and humanity exists side by side with the sordid and the petty.
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