29 october 24
Thursday last week was the day that I felt like I finally got to work and offered something instead of being totally on the receiving end. I really have only had two events where I was to present. The first was at the Blavatnik School of Government where Aaron teaches. It’s a school of public policy, very new by any standard, founded only in 2010 from huge donation from a business magnate named Len Blavatnik. After all the grand ornate old buildings of medieval Oxford with their gargoyles and facades, winding staircases and grand halls and portraits adorning the corridors, it was a bit of a shock to be in a simple handsome modern building for a change, with lots of light and clean lines. Aaron had put the word out for an 8:30 AM gathering over a semi-catered breakfast, insisting to me that people who sign up for such things usually show up––and they did. I think we were about 30 people. And what an interesting crowd, all very young (by my standards) except for one other woman faculty member, and from all over the world: two from Ukraine, Colombia, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, at least three from the States, Austria, Singapore… that’s all I can remember right off the bat. And, of course, bright as can be.
The topic was “What governments can learn from monasteries.” Aaron was very careful to frame the topic so as not to be bringing religion into it per se, but more along the lines of monastic governance. I of course front-loaded and over-prepared (if there really is such a thing), boning up on the Rule of Benedict and its history. I offered them a handout that I have used with the monks with three sets of monastic values: one list from the oblates of St John’s in Collegeville which, as far as I know, is anonymous, one from Abbot Jeremy Driscoll, and my own. But I, of course, never got to any of that.
The first step of our time together was for them to introduce themselves. Perhaps it was because the first one or two did, but to my surprise each one of them not only said where they were from, they also said what their spiritual tradition was. I started out by telling them that I have done many interfaith encounters, and I never ask that question of anyone, and how struck I was by that. The main theme of my offering was to focus on servant leadership, not only my whole spiel on paedagogos (from Clement of Alexandria’s writings on Christian leadership: the leader ought to be like “the slave that the parents hire to train the children”) but also after the example of Jesus, imagining for a moment, along with some prominent scholars, that Jesus was actually setting himself as a leader in Israel––and this is how we’re going to do it: the greatest among you will be the one who serves. I talked about “culture” and how my favorite images that Jesus uses for the reign of God, salt, seed, yeast, are all things that act by disappearing, and also that act from the inside out. And I also added how changing the culture of a place or an institution is like changing the oil in a car––while you’re driving. But it’s ultimately more effective and enduring change, as the pope is trying to do at the Vatican, doing away with the culture of careerism, instilling a culture of synodality. But we as individuals have to be willing to “die” in the process for the sake of the greater good.
Aaron gave them plenty of time to offer comments and questions. I didn’t feel obliged to offer an answer or a solution to every issue raised, but I tried to respond. They were so engaged and so engaging! I can still see their bright eyes and attentive faces. Of course we had touched a little on contemplative practice, so Aaron wisely suggested that we could either take the last three questions or we could spend some time in silent meditation, which we did (the latter). The discussions I had with the folks afterward were very moving, and I left feeling a little more hope than I usually feel in this day and age, choosing to believe that these young people were here because they really thought they could effect change in the world in the best way possible.
That same day at lunchtime we were back at Pembroke College for the third time. Rev Andrew Teal, who had been our host at evensong and high table on Monday, runs an interfaith discussion group each Thursday. This particular one was led by a Scottish professor who is a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints (who we usually refer to as Mormons). These are three things I might not have ever put together: Scotland, Latter Day Saints, and Oxford. He was very erudite and entertaining. There were also several other LDS members in attendance as well, mostly Americans as it turns out, and they too were very vocal about their faith after the professor ended his talk and opened the floor for discussion. There were two moments that were a little awkward. One was a question from a retired professor who asked about doing comparative readings of the Book of Mormon against other copies of the ancient text as would be done in biblical research for instance. I’m not sure if she knew what she was asking, since there are no other copies of the gold plates that Joseph Smith is said to have found. The other was a question asked by me. I didn’t mean to be provocative, but the other LDS members there were saying that the Book of Mormon corroborates everything in the Bible. (One person asked why the Bible had to be corroborated.) I asked what the difference was between LDS’ christology and that of mainstream Protestantism or Catholicism. We didn’t get to that much, partially since we were running out of time, though Rev Teal did jump in and insist that LDS are very trinitarian. I only have faint memories of what I was told by my few Mormon friends, but I think actually it diverges quite a bit. I would have liked for that to have been said. But I did tell the good professor afterward that my experience with Mormons has been that they are some of finest people I have known, and two of the best recording engineers oddly enough, Mike at Orangewood in Mesa and Chris at Pine Forest.
Friday was the main event, my musical performance at Somerville Interfaith Chapel. But before that we were met for lunch at Somerville by a stellar young man named Lucas Tse, from Hong Kong. In the world of random connections this one was really extraordinary. Amil, who was staying at Aaron’s with me, had a friend here who he had studied with in Chicago and who is now a research fellow at All Souls, a very prestigious seven-year commitment on their part. (Our friend the wunderkind Fitz had been as well.) On top of that, while he was studying in California in 2013, Lucas and a friend of his had taken a pilgrimage down the coast and happened upon New Camaldoli Hermitage. A monk found them wandering around the cloister, engaged them in conversation, invited them in to lunch and then showed them his cell that had a batik of Jesus in lotus position from India hanging on his wall, named Cyprian, who turned out to be the head monk. And when Lucas saw the poster for the concert, he wrote to Aaron asking if he could meet with said monk, neither he nor Aaron knowing the Amil connection. He is one of those people who asks all the right questions and really listens to the answers, and obviously also spoke very eloquently about anything he is asked as well. My favorite part of our discussion was about the Tao te Ching and Taoism in particular. I have a little slip of paper (Matt Fisher will love this) that I have been carrying around in my wallet of three phrases\definitions that I got from David Hinton’s mind-blowing book Awakened Cosmos.
wu=non-being as a generative void from which this ever-changing realm of being perpetually arises
tao=way, the generative ontological process through which all beings arise and pass away as non-being burgeons forth into the great transformation of being
tzu-jan=self-ablaze, the mechanism by which being burgeons forth out of non-being.
I have tried to speak to a few people about these concepts, only to be met with blank stares. Not so with Lucas. Of course, Mandarin is his native tongue, and he is a philosopher. (Amil too, by the way, had at one time been working on his own translation of Tao te Ching, himself half Chinese.) We had an amazing conversation. Like with Fitz, it’s consoling to get an affirmation that one is thinking along the right lines. What I see in this (and this will be a bit of a leap, but not that big of one if you have read Rediscovering the Divine) is the three Persons of the Trinity, the mountain underneath the island.
We had heard from people all week long how they were sorry but they were not coming to the concert that evening. One guy actually stopped in at the chapel while we were setting up to say, “Just wanted to say hi, but I’m not coming.” It was nice of them to say so, and obviously Aaron had gotten the word out. But my expectations were very low: I was expecting nobody but Aaron, Amil, Lucas (who said he could come for the first part) and Arziah, the head of the chapel. In the end we had about 30 people, so that was a big win. I would have been happy with five and would have done pretty much the same thing. As it was, it was a great evening. I played and sang very well, I could feel myself playing the room (both the space and the attendees) quite well, and it all felt very conversational. They also sang along quite well. I did “The Drink Sent Down” (Kabir Helminski’s version of the Turkish Sufi illahi, for instance, and asked the crowd to sing alhamdullilah as a dhkr underneath the entire song as an ostinato. It was the best “performance” of that song ever. As I wrote in my Facebook post, only at a place like Oxford might you be singing a Sufi dhkr in Arabic along Islamic scholars, a Sanskrit mantra with Hindus in attendance, and a song from the Tao te Ching with two people in the audience that know the book in Mandarin. “Minstrels going where scholars fear to tread.”
Again, the conversations afterward were very touching. Somerville, besides being the alma mater of Margaret Thatcher, has been an interfaith college from the start, and so it was a perfect setting. One gentleman who identified as a Sikh told me that it was more like a kirtan sing at the gurdwara than a concert, and I can’t think of a better compliment. I am so adverse to what William Harmless (God bless his memory) called “cherry picking,” and saying “See, it’s all the same.” And there is that risk that someone, especially in a place like Oxford where people really know what they’re talking about, could find a hole in my cloth and tear it from top to bottom. To be appreciated by a crowd like that was very satisfying and energizing. I told Aaron later that music has to stay a part of this next phase in my life and ministry. Somehow or other. “Telling stories and singing songs.” I think by this time I do see myself fitting easily into the folk\minstrel tradition.
I have only one more official appointment, a rather formal dinner tonight with some folks I have met along the way with the president of Somerville College at her home. Tomorrow I am going down to London to visit with an old acquaintance, then one more informal meal with some friends of Aaron’s and then to Rome. I’ll catch up with the rest later.
