Resilience in time of Coronavirus
Light in Darkness: A Case Study
from a Workshop for the International Council of Christians
and Jews, led by the Theology Committee.
I will begin in the place which combines symbol with
reality. A candle is often a light in darkness. Both Judaism and
Christianity make use of candles in the darkness, and not least at this time of
year, or in the season we are approaching. For Christians, Advent is
approaching, which means that Christmas is approaching beyond it. For
Jews, Hanukkah is approaching. Advent-Christmas and Hanukkah are all
associated with candles, indeed with candles shining out in the darkness. But –
so what? After all, Christian and Jewish practices echo and overlap each other
all the time, and that can make for some false analogies, some “false friends”.
It happens that at least at the Branch level, CCJ UK has now
a substantial weight of experience of running “Advent-Hanukkah” events [please
remember the many variations of spelling of Hanukkah, if seeking evidence online].
I was involved - rather heavily involved - in the first time Lincoln branch (in
the East of England) ran one of these, in 2008, and I’d like to reflect for a
moments on the process of planning and realising that.
First, part of the motivation for this event was that we knew
we had an open door at Lincoln Cathedral, and a note about that. Lincoln
was the site of one of the infamous English blood-libel cases. A Lincoln
boy called Hugh was killed in 1255, and his murder was slanderously attributed
to Jews (near and far), who had allegedly killed him by crucifixion. In the
Middle Ages there developed quite a cult of so-called “Little St Hugh of
Lincoln”, with a shrine in the cathedral. (By the way, he was never formally
declared a saint, and there is also an earlier, grown-up St Hugh of Lincoln, Bishop,
who is properly revered to this day, and has no connection.)
The cathedral has, since the 1950s worked to repent of this slanderous
tradition, which latterly has meant working with the contemporary Jewish
community (small but vibrant) and CCJ. We asked that our gathering be in the
cathedral Chapter House (a meeting room, so not worship space, and with
no religious imagery), and we were, as expected, welcomed. We saw gathering in
this location in itself as being a way of letting the metaphorical light of
reconciliation shine, so as to dispel the darkness.
Second, we were well aware that there are many ways of
getting such an event wrong (perhaps too many).[1]
One was to seek to offer a messy mush of the festivals, a kind of “Advehanumas”.
We wanted to avoid this at all costs.
Indeed, we wanted to stay away from the whole debate about
whether “multifaith worship” is either desirable or possible (about
which people in the Branch had different ideas). We were this explicit: we are not
offering an act of multifaith worship. Rather what we were offering was a
meeting for experiential learning. Here was a chance to learn-by-seeing-by-hearing-by-doing,
of Advent and Hanukkah, severally. The “taste” we were offering was to
be genuine, and so Christians would pray Christian prayers and
blessings, and Jews would say Jewish prayers and blessings. But the separation
was to be clear, and explicit - out of mutual regard rather than suspicion or
coldness, of course.
Third, we were as clear that we were not suggesting
that the two festivals were equivalent. Hanukkah lasts over eight days
(eight nights). Advent lasts long enough to include the four Sundays before
Christmas. Hanukkah stands alone as a festival, about the rededication of the
Temple after the successful Maccabean revolt, and a miracle (later) associated
with that. Advent is a preparatory season, looking forward to Christmas. And –
by far the most important difference – Hanukkah is a minor
festival, and a family – a homely - festival, whereas Advent
has great importance precisely as it is the preparation for the major
feast of Christmas, marking the birth of Jesus Christ.[2]
I remember a conversation with someone about our intentions
who said words to this effect:
“I am a recovering Religious Education teacher. I had to
pretend that each religion had its own ‘Festival of Light’, and that each was
implicitly a variation on the same theme. That’s how RE has been
taught for decades in the UK: look at a generic theme, and find out how
each faith offers a specific version of that theme. It flattens out all that
truly shapes each religion, and does more harm than good.”
Well, there may (or may not) be a counterargument to be
raised about RE as a whole, but, for the purposes of this event, this criticism
was well received, and the only commonality we sought to draw upon was of candle-light-in-darkness-in-winter.[3]
But that is not nothing. We lit the liturgically appropriate
number of candles. I think (from memory) it might have been the fourth night of
Hanukkah and the week following the Second Sunday of Advent. So that is five
candles, with the shamash candle, for Hanukkah on the candelabra/hanukkiah, and
two candles for the relevant Advent week. I should perhaps explain that these
candles were set within an Advent Crown or wreath, with much greenery,
four candles of darker colours around a central white candle, which have come
to represent: (1) the ancestors; (2) the prophets; (3) John
the Baptist; (4) Mary the Mother of Jesus, with the white candle lit
to represent Christ - at Christmas itself.
But even as I say this, another sense emerges in which the
two festivals – or at least these actions within them - are different. For the
Advent crown is anything but ancient. It’s not – if I can put it this way – mitzvah
at all; It’s entirely minhag, custom. The associations with
the ancestors, the prophets, and so on,
is itself but one possible interpretation. The lectionary [RCL] readings for
the respective Sundays of Advent do align with these themes in good measure,
but not wholly. The themes can be replaced by others without loss, say: hope,
peace, joy, love. (And, by the way, some of us are old enough to remember
the older Advent themes: death, judgement, heaven and hell.) But, we can surely see merit in the way thins
have developed. Can it not be to the edification of Christians, to reflect
on our interpretations, precisely of the ancestors and prophets of the Hebrew
Scriptures alongside Jews?
Another side note if I may. Because the whole business of the
Advent crown is only minhag (custom), we were comfortable varying
things. In particular, this meant asking a Sikh friend from the local
interfaith forum to light one of the Advent candles, which she did with
pride and relish.
In keeping with our theme that we were offering an authentic
if incomplete experience of the respective festivals, we “watered nothing
down”. So the final Christian blessing was that for Advent, and ended with the Trinitarian
formula. Again, then: an interfaith gathering, and not a multifaith
service of worship.
My own conviction is that the event was a success.
Certainly, it has been repeated since then. It undoubtedly helped that
we ended with copious refreshments. Here again, we stuck to minhagim:
mince pies and doughnuts aplenty. But, even beyond the importance of that,
the welcome from the Cathedral, aware of its past association with the
blood libel, was no small part of it. We know, don’t we, that Christians
involved in Jewish-Christian dialogue often first have to learn just how
ugly major aspects of Christian lived reality have been, in order to
demonstrate repentance away from all that. The Cathedral was taking that
seriously.
Ultimately, though, I’d say that the “hero” of the
night was the candle light itself. Candle light is of course a flame.
It is fire. So it is elemental. And Jews and Christians share a
tendency to be drawn to the elemental in our worship and practice. Because we
share a strong conviction that we are – and are meant to be - creatures
who worship by doing creaturely things with the simple things of Gd’s
creation. And being elemental, the fire of the flame of a candle often speaks
to those who have no practical connection to our faiths.
The symbol and the reality come together as one, when the
symbol is light. In these strange and narrow days, may the light shine out
in the darkness for us all.
[1] Another way of getting it wrong would have been to have tried to cover all
variations within each faith. So we inhabited our own geography, and the identities
of the Christians in the team and likely to attend. I mean: we focused on Western
Christianity, where the Latin Rite dominates (whether so-called or not). Advent
in Eastern Orthodoxy is different in a number of ways, and does not have the
Advent Crown described here (though it has plenty of candles, too).
[2]
The discussion within the workshop emphasised this difference – to the point of
making me very conscious of something of an oversimplification here. I mean:
this is very much the insider, liturgical-Christian perspective. According to
that perspective, Advent is indeed the season of preparation and penitence and,
yes, even fasting, which prepares the devout for the Feast of the Nativity of
the Lord. This is its authentic importance. But one has to have quite a high
degree of liturgical sensitivity to inhabit that. To most Christians “Advent”
as such is not important at all, and is perhaps associated mainly with folk/cultural
Christian/post-Christian items such as Advent calendars, which run from 1 to 24
December, taking no account of Sundays. That said, Advent-as-such does maintain
high cultural relevance in Scandinavia and other parts of Lutheran Northern
Europe.
[3]
Again, a self-consciously British perspective. Others in the workshop spoke
about the difference approaching these festivals in the Southern Hemisphere
makes.
No comments:
Post a Comment