Yesterday, a good friend and I went to the Royal Academy of Art to view the exhibition ‘Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915-1935′. This exhibition ends on 22 January 2012.  If you have the opportunity, do go along and catch this.

What made this visit especially interesting was my friend’s personal experiences.  He has been living and working in Eastern Europe for over 35 years.  He traveled throughout the Soviet Union in the bad, old, dark days of the 70s and 80s — sometimes with James Bond-like experiences with the KGB.  After the fall of the Soviet Empire he and his family lived in a former Soviet-block country.  All this to say, as we looked at architecture he would frequently comment from his own visits to the sites in Moscow.  I had a tour guide with me.

What especially struck us was the irony of the exhibition.  An irony ignored by the audio guide and the curators’ comments.

After the Russian Revolution, with the encouragement of Lenin and the new Bolshevik regime, Russian, Ukranian, Georgian and other artists sought to promote a radical ‘constructivist’ style.  In opposition to the former European belle epoche contructivists aimed for a number of features: the so-called avant garde along with what one commentator identifies as ‘abstraction, pop art, op art, minimalism, abstract expressionism, the graphic style of punk and post-punk, to brutalism, postmodernism, hi-tech and deconstructivism.’ (see http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2011/nov/04/russian-avant-garde-constructivists).  They also sought to promote art as an instrument of construction: namely, to assist in the building/construction of a worldview experiment.  Art would not be an expression of the natural or the real.  Art would be the construction of an ideal: social equality, the excellence of the worker and the supremacy of the Revolution.

Without doubt, some of the photographs of buildings, paintings and drawings are fascinating, intriguing and communicative.  The curators and commentator on the audio guide were, in one sense, right to wax lyrical about this era.  A fascinating experiment did truly take place.  But, in my opinion, there is a huge irony to all of this.

First, to call this Soviet or even Russian art is somewhat misleading. Those at the forefront of this movement(s) were not yet Soviets (for they preceded the Revolution).  Equally, they weren’t only from Russia.  More significantly, the movement (so the curators point out) were indebted to other European influences — notably the French architect Le Corbusier. At various points along the way, I couldn’t help but think the so-called Russian avant-garde was neither fully Russian nor avant-garde.

Second, one example leaped out to me in particular.  It was a radio tower meant to express the new State’s abilities and resources.  The original plan was to build the tower taller than the Eiffel Tower in Paris (some 350 metres tall).  Yet this radio tower in Moscow: had no actual foundation and ran out of material at around 150 metres.  In short, the tower came short of its’ goal.  Yet no mention of this ‘failure’ or incompleteness was made!

Third, and most striking of all to my friend and me, was the undeniable state of rot and disintegration of the buildings as seen in the many photographs!  Every building was clearly crumbling and in poor condition.  Yes, Stalin eventually crushed the experiments and commanded a return to neo-classical architecture.  He put a stop to the constructivists.  But, equally, time alone and the end of the Soviet Empire has reduced things to an ironic deconstruction.  One former building, originally intended for a workers’ co-operative headquarters is currently being converted to become ’boutique apartments’ for the wealthier Muscovites.

What troubled me is that at no point in the audio guide did any commentator point out the failure of this movement.  The movement may well have been experimental, radical and impressive.  Yet there was in all of this a sense (as my friend aptly put it) of a dehumanisation of space and perspective on the basis of what was an anti-human ideology.

I don’t mean my comments to tout some ‘triumph of the West’.  I certainly don’t prize today’s styles of narcissistic and consumerist expression.  I do commend the RA for putting on this exhibition.  I only wish greater attention was given to the ironic failure.

Op-Ed Columnist

The End, for Now

By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN

Published: December 20, 2011

Iraq was always a war of choice. As I never bought the argument that Saddam had nukes that had to be taken out, the decision to go to war stemmed, for me, from a different choice: Could we collaborate with the people of Iraq to change the political trajectory of this pivotal state in the heart of the Arab world and help tilt it and the region onto a democratizing track? After 9/11, the idea of helping to change the context of Arab politics and address the root causes of Arab state dysfunction and Islamist terrorism — which were identified in the 2002 Arab Human Development Report as a deficit of freedom, a deficit of knowledge and a deficit of women’s empowerment — seemed to me to be a legitimate strategic choice. But was it a wise choice?

My answer is twofold: “No” and “Maybe, sort of, we’ll see.”

I say “no” because whatever happens in Iraq, even if it becomes Switzerland, we overpaid for it. And, for that, I have nothing but regrets. We overpaid in lives, in the wounded, in tarnished values, in dollars and in the lost focus on America’s development. Iraqis, of course, paid dearly as well.

One reason the costs were so high is because the project was so difficult. Another was the incompetence of George W. Bush’s team in prosecuting the war. The other reason, though, was the nature of the enemy. Iran, the Arab dictators and, most of all, Al Qaeda did not want a democracy in the heart of the Arab world, and they tried everything they could — in Al Qaeda’s case, hundreds of suicide bombers financed by Arab oil money — to sow enough fear and sectarian discord to make this democracy project fail.

So no matter the original reasons for the war, in the end, it came down to this: Were America and its Iraqi allies going to defeat Al Qaeda and its allies in the heart of the Arab world or were Al Qaeda and its allies going to defeat them? Thanks to the Sunni Awakening movement in Iraq, and the surge, America and its allies defeated them and laid the groundwork for the most important product of the Iraq war: the first ever voluntary social contract between Sunnis, Kurds and Shiites for how to share power and resources in an Arab country and to govern themselves in a democratic fashion. America helped to midwife that contract in Iraq, and now every other Arab democracy movement is trying to replicate it — without an American midwife. You see how hard it is.

Which leads to the “maybe, sort of, we’ll see.” It is possible to overpay for something that is still transformational. Iraq had its strategic benefits: the removal of a genocidal dictator; the defeat of Al Qaeda there, which diminished its capacity to attack us; the intimidation of Libya, which prompted its dictator to surrender his nuclear program (and helped expose the Abdul Qadeer Khan nuclear network); the birth in Kurdistan of an island of civility and free markets and the birth in Iraq of a diverse free press. But Iraq will only be transformational if it truly becomes a model where Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds, the secular and religious, Muslims and non-Muslims, can live together and share power.

As you can see in Syria, Yemen, Egypt, Libya and Bahrain, this is the issue that will determine the fate of all the Arab awakenings. Can the Arab world develop pluralistic, consensual politics, with regular rotations in power, where people can live as citizens and not feel that their tribe, sect or party has to rule or die? This will not happen overnight in Iraq, but if it happens over time it would be transformational, because it is the necessary condition for democracy to take root in that region. Without it, the Arab world will be a dangerous boiling pot for a long, long time.

The best-case scenario for Iraq is that it will be another Russia — an imperfect, corrupt, oil democracy that still holds together long enough so that the real agent of change — a new generation, which takes nine months and 21 years to develop — comes of age in a much more open, pluralistic society. The current Iraqi leaders are holdovers from the old era, just like Vladimir Putin in Russia. They will always be weighed down by the past. But as Putin is discovering — some 21 years after Russia’s democratic awakening began — that new generation thinks differently. I don’t know if Iraq will make it. The odds are really long, but creating this opportunity was an important endeavor, and I have nothing but respect for the Americans, Brits and Iraqis who paid the price to make it possible.

In Britten’s work he uses some anonymous 15th and 16th centuries poems from The English Galaxy of Shorter Poems.  Two pieces specially struck me with the beauty of paradox and irony.  Paradox is defined as a seemingly contradictory statement that, nevertheless, may be true.  Irony is defined as the expression of one’s meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite.  When used well, paradox and irony can create the truly beautiful and the the beautifully true.

Two poems stand out, in my opinion.  First, ‘This Little Babe‘

This little Babe so few days old, is come to rifle Satan’s fold;

All hell doth at his presence quake, though he himself for cold do shake;

For in this weak unarmed wise the gates of hell he will surprise.

With tears he fights and wins the field, His naked breast stands for a shield;

His battering short are babish cries, His arrows looks of weeping eyes,

His martial ensigns Cold and Need, and feeble Flesh his warrior’s steed.

His camp is pitched in a stall, His bulwark but a broken wall;

The crib his trench, haystacks his stakes; of shepherds he his muster makes;

And thus, as sure his foe to wound, the angel’s trumps alarum sound.

My soul, with Christ join thou in fight; stick to the tents that he hath pight.

Within his crib is surest ward; this little Babe will be thy guard.

If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy, then flit not from the heavenly Boy.

And these expressions from ‘In Freezing Winter Night‘

This stable is a Prince’s court, this crib his chair of State;

The beasts are parcel of his pomp, the wooden dish his plate.

The persons in that poor attire His royal liveries wear;

The Prince himself is come from heaven; This pomp is prized there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight, Do homage to thy King,

And highly praise his humble pomp, which he from Heaven doth bring.

These paradoxes and ironies (hopefully, you spot them) remind me of those other lines by Emily Dickinson:

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Cirrcuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—

In the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ and, supremely, in his agonising death on a Roman Cross, Truth-in-Person, in superb surprise, comes to us.   The paradox and irony are means he often employs so as ‘to dazzle gradually’.  But one day He will return in dazzling glory!  Take the paradox and irony to heart now.

The waste of dwindling resources is shocking!  Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s campaign is worth supporting.

The first concerned a health matter.  The past two weeks have not been fun: I had a bout with a horrid stomach ‘flu (and, for female readers, this wasn’t “man ‘flu”).  My doctor is a family friend.  She was visiting my wife one evening and, in passing, asked how I was feeling.  I answered in a typical bloke fashion: I gave her all the details!  She wasn’t fazed.  What she went on to say, however, fazed me.   She recommended that I receive the “‘flu shot”.  I responded, “Huh.  But isn’t it currently reserved for vulnerable people and the elderly?”  My doctor (did I say she is a family friend?!) looked me straight in the eye and said, “Yes.”

The second concerned a much younger guy.  For the past four years I have met with him from time to time.  I have spoken at a few meetings he’s arranged.  One of the many projects he’s been working on is his first book.  He asked me to read the first draft; our friendship could have fallen apart due to the comments I made about the manuscript.  To his credit he took the criticism on the chin and kept going.  We continued to meet up occasionally for lunches and some superb coffee.

This week I read his revised book manuscript.  I was thrilled: but not because he incorporated anything I had earlier suggested.  Instead, I was thrilled to see a younger man’s written work mature.  This book, I anticipate, will be hugely important and helpful to readers.  But, again, it had nothing to do with me.  And, for one of those rare moments, I experienced a joy — a joy in another’s good work by the Lord’s grace and enabling.  I found myself wanting to give a punch in the air victory cheer.  If I could have done one of those footballer flips or rugby player’s slide — without putting my back out or bruising my shins — I would have done so.  It is a joy to experience unalloyed happiness in another’s labours under God.

Which makes me think that such joy is precisely what an older person should have when watching younger friends and colleagues.  Surely, one of the tasks of a pastor upon reaching a certain age and stage in ministry is to train, encourage and, then, take joy in younger workers.  To be sure, there are inevitable dissapointments and hurts (all around).  There is risk.  On the other hand, to take the SAS saying in a different direction, ‘He who shares wins’.  Better, as King David put it:

³ Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise;
his greatness no one can fathom.
⁴ One generation commends your works to another;
they tell of your mighty acts.
⁵ They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty—
and I will meditate on your wonderful works.
⁶ They tell of the power of your awesome works—
and I will proclaim your great deeds.
⁷ They celebrate your abundant goodness
and joyfully sing of your righteousness.

Psalm 145: 3 — 7

I’ll gladly take more of this experience at my ‘certain age’.  The jury is still out about the ‘flu shot.

Africa United (2010)

This film was a delightful surprise to me.  I hadn’t heard much about it until I read a prompting from the always helpful and insightful Damaris Media Nick Pollard on Africa United.

The plotline involves an almost Chaucer-like collection of young people trying to make their way to the 2010 World Cup in South Africa.  Their exploits are both comic and poignant.  It is this feature above all that intrigued me.  The story is able to capture some of the horrors of AIDS, child-soldiers and the sex trade without either sentimentality or soap box lecturing.

The acting is delightful and the tight photography, in my opion, captured the actors’ skills.

Don’t miss this film if you have the chance.  For fuller and better details, click the link above at Damaris, for information.

If you like words and languages, you might find the following link enjoyable.  I confess to recognising only two of the words.

2o Awesomely Untranslatable Words from Around the World

I was asked recently, ‘Don’t you think all sermons should essentially have one main thing to walk away with?’

(Don’t be a pedant like me and rush to correct the dangling preposition!  Few understand the correction and even fewer appreciate the correction)

Almost immediately, I answered ‘yes’; but, in my characteristically annoying fashion, added, ‘Well, yes, more or less, er, but with some qualifications…why do you ask?’

When I started off over 30 years ago in what I consider the best but most humbling job — Bible teaching– I was trained according to a model forwarded by Perry Miller.  Miller claimed the preacher is an expositor (so I wasn’t misled into thinking a sermon is to be a devotional chat, systematic theology lecturer, mystical message or Garrison Keillor-wannabe ramble).  Let the text, in its context, drive and shape the sermon.  Summarise your message in one ‘thesis statement’.  Whatever subordinate points you employ they should ONLY exist to further your thesis statement.  By they way, Miller strongly insisted that application should never wait to the end of the sermon but run throughout the entire sermon.

Many years later, when I returned to teach at a US Anglican theological college (US = seminary) students were using the expression ‘Big Idea’ which comes from the excellent work by Haddon Robinson.  As I listened to the method in practice (and one of the finest, clearest Anglican preachers in the States I knew at the time was Peter C Moore), it seemed eminently correct.

But here’s my question: on what grounds do we accept this assumption?  Stay with me here, please.

First, is this assumption largely a matter of rhetoric?  Is it largely a late-modernist device (Yikes! I hate using this cliche because some people love to blame everything on the Enlightenment and celebrate everything postmodern).  But for the sake of conversation, how much should the genre of the text suggest the rhetoric or homiletic?

Second, while a thesis statement/big idea is clearly helpful, do ALL Biblical genre lend themselves to this method?  For example, does narrative, poetry, apocalyptic or parable?  I want to be clear (although most people who hear me would privately tell you I am not) I think clarity is vital.  But is it possible that in my laudable desire for clarity I end up delivering a kind of reductionism — reducing the text to simple propositions which, in turn, could become either moralisms or trite cliche?

Third, what do people mean by the expression ‘one thing’?  Is it a thing to do?  A thing not to do?  A thing to think?  A thing to feel?  If the original question is a poorly phrased request for more application, fair enough.  On the other hand, and I don’t wish to be controversial here, could it be that sometimes, some people, want me to do their thinking/reading/reflecting and tell them ‘here is this week’s one thing’?  They don’t want irony, complexity, or, er, hard work.

So, what do others of you think?  Let me know…

I first met Mark around 25 years ago.  Tremendously insightful, strongly opinionated, not a little intimidating but consistently encouraging and caring to me (and others).  Several years later, we worked together at a preaching conference in the States and I remember how careful, gracious and patient he was with American Episcopalians (not known for either an interest or skill in expository preaching).  He was inspiring and encouraging to the Americans.

Throughout the years I had occasional contact with Mark, including a visit he made to the theological college in the States where I taught and was vice-principal.  Some of my colleagues there also knew Mark and highly valued his ministry.

It was in 2005, when we finally returned to the UK after our time in the States, when I saw best Mark’s huge gifts.  We met in Cambridge for a Chinese meal lunch.  I had some personal issues and questions to discuss with Mark.  Once again, he was patient, caring and insightful.  He didn’t need to meet with me; he had far more important things to do; but he did so nonetheless.  Both then and now I am thankful.

But intriguingly Mark has done one last thing for me (and, assuredly, for thousands of people who knew him at StAG).  His death in Christ on Holy Saturday speaks huge volumes of the hope and promise given to all who trust and believe in Jesus.  Mark’s death is a “life well lived”.   He died well in that he pointed all of us to Christ.

As they chatted the woman mentioned to Janet that she finds living in London very hard.  In particular she finds life in England lonely.  Janet asked her what she meant by this.  She went on to say that she finds London people cold and unfriendly, rude even.  The young woman immediately pointed out that Janet is one exception but then qualified her comment by saying, “But, of course, you aren’t British!”

What took Janet aback, however, was when the woman went on to express her sadness concerning her experiences of racism in London.  Apparently, she reported, because of her skin colouring and her accent she believes Londoners treat her dismissively and, she said, with occasional disdain.  She ended up saying to Janet, “I wish I could meet nice, friendly English people!”

Janet said she’d be delighted to introduce her to folk we know who are wonderfully friendly and welcoming.  Truth is, we are privileged to meet and know lots of very kind and friendly English people.  But, as she later told me, the one part of the conversation that troubled her was the comment about perceived racism.  How is this countered?

One film especially deconstructed my self-belief that I am free from all racist problems — Paul Haggis’ Crash (2005).  Some time ago I posted some thoughts about this film.

If you’ve seen the film you’ll recall how artfully this film reveals the sub-level propensity towards racism in just about all of us.  On one hand, therefore, what the young woman said to Janet about her experiences in London (whether she is correct or not, I don’t know; but it is her perception nonetheless) ought not to surprise us.  Racism has not been eradicated despite efforts to promote multi-culturalism and greater tolerance.

On the other hand, countering racism (in whatever form) cannot be accomplished by legislation, exhortation or compulsion.  Civil liberties and legal accountability are necessary and in this limited scope legislation is vital.  But telling someone to do something or be something isn’t ever ultimately successful.  “Laws” or “rules” cannot change the human heart, redirect the human will and promote human society.  There is, frankly, something about us that is profoundly out of sync that can only be corrected, healed and transformed by something or someone greater and more authentic than legal or rule imposition.

This means that while I’d like to hope that Londoners can make a difference by civility, politeness and courtesy (all of which are virtues), I suspect all of this could result in self-efforts (however good they be initially) that simply go only so far.  Truth is, a more radical and more profound change is necessary in me and others here in London (and, of course, elsewhere).

Once again, I am struck and intrigued by what the Jew, Paul, who was an apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, wrote to his fellow Christians who were non-Jews but sharers with Paul in a new humanity/new society brought about in Christ:

¹⁰ and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.

¹¹ Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.

¹² Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.

¹³ Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

¹⁴ And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Colossians 3:10-14)