The Archbishop of York and Jeremiah’s underpants

On February 18, 2008 / By maggi dawn / Reply

The Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu, has developed something of a public image as a man of prophetic action.  A few years back he was made Bishop of Birmingham, but during the ceremony, instead of sitting on the Bishop’s Chair himself, he invited twelve local schoolchildren to come forward, gave each of them a golden crown to wear, and then as each of them sat on the Chair in turn, he washed their feet. He then preached about the ministry of a Bishop being that of a servant, not of a Lord. After moving to York, he set up his own prayer tent in the Minster and spent a week publicly fasting and praying.  Then three  months ago, Archbishop Sentamu appeared live on BBC One’s Andrew Marr Show, and talked about his objection to Mr Mugabe’s regime in Zimbabwe. He said Mr Mugabe had "taken people’s identity" and "cut it to pieces". He then removed his clerical collar – a symbol, he said, of his own identity as an Anglican and a priest – took a large pair of scissors and cut the collar to pieces. He declared that he would not wear a collar again until Mugabe is out of office. He has been a critic of Mr Mugabe for long enough, but it was this visual act on the TV which, though it may have seemed a little bizarre, caught the national imagination.

Last week, speaking in Synod on the meaning of Covenant, Dr Sentamu gave the Archbishop of Canterbury a gift – a four-foot ebony "chief stick" he had brought back from a humanitarian visit to Kenya.  This symbolic gesture of respect for Dr Williams’ authority and leadership was all the more powerful after the row in recent days over the "sharia law" lecture and interview (a row which, incidentally, has been reported in blogland to have been largely a media set-up).

So what’s with all this dramatic action? Is the Archbishop of York just playing for media attention? Cynics might think so. But there is a long history of prophetic action in the Jewish-Christian tradition, perhaps its most colourful exponent being the prophet Jeremiah, who once took off his underpants to make a point. In the thirteenth chapter of his book, Jeremiah tells a bizarre story of how he went to buy a new linen loincloth, wore it for a while, and then went down to the riverbank, took it off and buried it. Some time later he went to dig up the underpants, only to find that they had gone rotten. This he used as a sign to show his community how they had become distant from God. They should, he said, have been as intimately close to God as a pair of underpants. But separated from God, they had become rotten and useless.

Jeremiah could, of course, have delivered an elegant speech, using sophisticated religious, political or philosophical language. Or he could have preached a fiery sermon, or written a poem or a song – he could have got the idea across in a number of ways. But it seems that Jeremiah was talking to people who had stopped listening to his words.  Jeremiah’s book is littered with stories like this – stories of prophetic, visual actions that take everyday objects and turn them into pictures of what was happening in his world.

There have been a lot of words written and spoken about the other Archbishop in the last ten days, some of them in a fearful and angry response to a taboo subject, many more in a cynical way, apparently planned for media effect.  Instead of engaging with the issues, many of the arguments were reduced to nothing more than taking sides. "Are you for the Archbishop of Canterbury, or against him?" a visitor asked me in my Vestry last week.  Once last week’s row had reached a pitch where words were no longer being heard, still less change anyone’s mind, the Archbishop of York’s gift of a chief-stick was a moving, visual image that transcended the argument, instead simply placing himself in solidarity with his brother and colleague. Sometimes actions do speak louder than words.

I for one am glad that we do not have dumbed-down Archbishops. The last thing the Church needs is mere symbols of power; what we have in these two leaders is two people who refuse to be tamed into mere institutional bureaucrats; they set the tone for Christians who want to engage properly with thoroughgoing thinking and appropriate action, not simply reduce everything to a soundbite.

Come and hear both Archbishops speak in Cambridge this week on the relationship between faith and society. A World To Believe In, Cambridge, 20-22 Feb

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  1. Everyone is skeptical of some sub-set of religion. You’re not a Muslim, for example, so you are skeptical of some Islamic scripture. Now, I think you need to exercise some empathy in order to try and take on the view of someone who is skeptical about all religious belief; that is, expand the scope of skepticism to include the beliefs which you happen to assent to.
    For example, personally I regard the miracle-inducing life, and the divine resurrection after death, of a part-god-part-man, as residing on the same kind of mythological level as the world being created in six days, or the Personficiation of Evil tempting the first woman to eat a magic fruit.
    Yet the supernatural tales about Jesus are considered by mainstream Christians as perfectly acceptable and literally true, while certain other (older) comparably mytho-fantastical scriptures have fallen out of that fashion, and so are regarded as “metaphorical” or as artistic expressions of something human/transcendent, etc.
    Presumably, when it comes to the Muslim tradition, you regard not only the oldest stories (which share much content with the Bible anyway, of course) but also the relatively newer stuff, about the miraculous divine happenings surroudning Mohammad, as both being metaphorical, or at least not literally true, otherwise you’d be a Muslim, not a Christian.
    Now from a skeptic like Dawkin’s point of view, the moderates of Christianity, who claim to have an advanced-because-non-literal interpretation of some scriptures, don’t even seem to recognise the tension in believing the other stuff (about Jesus) which has a comparably mythological status.
    So, using what I’ll assume you believe about Muslim beliefs as a prompt to empathise with what Dawkins sees in Christian beliefs, can’t you see with why he might want to address Biblical literalism in general?
    Moderate mainstream Christians *are* Biblical literalists about overtly mythological parts of the Bible.

  2. Whilst I think that the article you’ve linked to makes some good points, it verges too much on the side of ad hominem for my liking.
    This kind of debate becomes counterproductive, and point-scoring. No-one really wants to learn or listen, and it just convinces people that they were right to start with on both sides – a waste of time.
    The resulting 29 comments (last count) prove my point.
    Move on.

  3. Mark Bratton

    When I proposed to the President of the newly-formed ‘Atheist Society’ here at the University of Warwick that we form a joint-Chaplaincy-Atheist Reading Group on ‘The God Delusion’, he refused, claiming that he and his fellow members did not wish to be associated that particular contribution by Richard Dawkins. This story has proved to be quite an effective way of diverting conversation when the more atheistic members of my family – ready to pounce – ask me what I think of that book which they themselves have devoured with relish.

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