"Modern people who try and take this book seriously tend to take verses like these and apply them individually (I am God’s poem!), but most of scripture is doggedly, rigorously communal."
Twice in recent weeks, I've had my attention drawn to the translation of the opening of John's gospel, and the suggestion that Logos might better be rendered as "conversation" than "the Word". First it was Victoria Loorz from Wild Church who told me this, then I met it again in Andrew Shanks's Hegel vs 'Inter-Faith' Dialogue. And last night, reading Shanks's book and thinking of something Martin Shaw said recently, my mind leapt to Tyson Yunkaporta's Sand Talk and the way he has introduced so many of us to the Aboriginal English expression, 'yarning', to describe a way of being in conversation quite different to the point-scoring of modern public debate or academic discourse, and so a new translation offered itself: 'In the beginning was the yarn'. For, as Raimon Pannikkar said, 'We are knots within nets of relations.'
I should add – and I am not making this up – that the next thing that happened after I had this thought, put the book down and went to bed, was that the crazier of our two cats found a ball of wool that had been left out and began tangling it noisily around the house until I got up to investigate!
This understanding of the word "logos" makes a lot of sense. As a knitter, I have a strong affinity with the way one thread gets intertwined with its own loops from the previous row. I really love the idea of one conversation happening over time, with new stitches or speakers being added as the fabric or community enlarges. Thanks for this great image.
So true, Elizabeth - about faith and writing, which - at its best is a work of faith. I love Dougald's comments about the Word in John's gospel. I sense that when God spoke Creation into being, it was never a monologue. The light answered and everything else, ever since, has been in response. God allows the conversation, the improvised drama, the collective God-breathed story to keep unfolding. Every blessing to you as your first perfectly imperfect book comes into the world. I know it will invite so many others to join the work of Creation.
A French classmate asked to read my master's degree English thesis. Her take: "It was so clear. I understood exactly what you were saying." Which, once I thought about French writers like Lacan and Derrida, I realized wasn't perhaps exactly a compliment but more of a contrast. We Americans are taught to write clearly, to write to a rubric, to tell people what we're going to tell them, tell them, then tell them what we told them. We have critical, analytic mindsets, a problem-solving approach, where misunderstanding is often paid for with a lower grade in school or a bad review on Goodreads. I often (really often) did not actually write conclusions to papers I wrote in school because it seemed quite arrogant to assume the reader should have the same understanding about what I'd written as I did. (Pretty sure the masters thesis had a conclusion.)
Just read your very fair and balanced review in Christianity Today of Justin Brierley's recent book "The Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God" and was drawn to his encouragement/warning to the church of “answering yesterday’s objections, rather than engaging with those who are asking a different set of questions altogether." I do wonder if it's not time for us to stop referring to "Our Post-Christian age." Our current situation that Justin, yourself (and others) are describing is probably better defined as Post-Secular! In the words of the Victorian hymn: "I tried the broken cisterns, Lord, But, ah, the waters failed!"
"Modern people who try and take this book seriously tend to take verses like these and apply them individually (I am God’s poem!), but most of scripture is doggedly, rigorously communal."
Twice in recent weeks, I've had my attention drawn to the translation of the opening of John's gospel, and the suggestion that Logos might better be rendered as "conversation" than "the Word". First it was Victoria Loorz from Wild Church who told me this, then I met it again in Andrew Shanks's Hegel vs 'Inter-Faith' Dialogue. And last night, reading Shanks's book and thinking of something Martin Shaw said recently, my mind leapt to Tyson Yunkaporta's Sand Talk and the way he has introduced so many of us to the Aboriginal English expression, 'yarning', to describe a way of being in conversation quite different to the point-scoring of modern public debate or academic discourse, and so a new translation offered itself: 'In the beginning was the yarn'. For, as Raimon Pannikkar said, 'We are knots within nets of relations.'
I love this thanks Dougald
I should add – and I am not making this up – that the next thing that happened after I had this thought, put the book down and went to bed, was that the crazier of our two cats found a ball of wool that had been left out and began tangling it noisily around the house until I got up to investigate!
Also, yes to everything you said in this post about the book-writing experience, so much resonance.
Also, Northern Irish slang - "Yarn: Like a story. 'We had a good yarn last night, in the pub.'”
This understanding of the word "logos" makes a lot of sense. As a knitter, I have a strong affinity with the way one thread gets intertwined with its own loops from the previous row. I really love the idea of one conversation happening over time, with new stitches or speakers being added as the fabric or community enlarges. Thanks for this great image.
So true, Elizabeth - about faith and writing, which - at its best is a work of faith. I love Dougald's comments about the Word in John's gospel. I sense that when God spoke Creation into being, it was never a monologue. The light answered and everything else, ever since, has been in response. God allows the conversation, the improvised drama, the collective God-breathed story to keep unfolding. Every blessing to you as your first perfectly imperfect book comes into the world. I know it will invite so many others to join the work of Creation.
A French classmate asked to read my master's degree English thesis. Her take: "It was so clear. I understood exactly what you were saying." Which, once I thought about French writers like Lacan and Derrida, I realized wasn't perhaps exactly a compliment but more of a contrast. We Americans are taught to write clearly, to write to a rubric, to tell people what we're going to tell them, tell them, then tell them what we told them. We have critical, analytic mindsets, a problem-solving approach, where misunderstanding is often paid for with a lower grade in school or a bad review on Goodreads. I often (really often) did not actually write conclusions to papers I wrote in school because it seemed quite arrogant to assume the reader should have the same understanding about what I'd written as I did. (Pretty sure the masters thesis had a conclusion.)
Just read your very fair and balanced review in Christianity Today of Justin Brierley's recent book "The Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God" and was drawn to his encouragement/warning to the church of “answering yesterday’s objections, rather than engaging with those who are asking a different set of questions altogether." I do wonder if it's not time for us to stop referring to "Our Post-Christian age." Our current situation that Justin, yourself (and others) are describing is probably better defined as Post-Secular! In the words of the Victorian hymn: "I tried the broken cisterns, Lord, But, ah, the waters failed!"