This November sees the publication of my first book, Circles of Thorns: Hieronymus Bosch and Being Human (Continuum International). I thought it might be interesting to give potential readers an idea of what the book is about, and what the curious subtitle actually means.

Using the example of Bosch’s only painting in the National Gallery, Christ Mocked (Crowning with Thorns), it explores the political, scientific, psychological and devotional world of early modern Europe, and applies those insights to our own time. It shows how sophisticated Bosch was as a painter and how he used his artistic skill to convey a similarly sophisticated understanding of humanity. The painting was, and is, a challenge to its viewers, a challenge to answer the question posed by Christ to his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?”. In Christ Mocked, Christ’s Passion is shown so we must reassess the cosmic significance of Christ’s death, and its profound implications for what we think it means to be human.

An outline of the book

The first, short, chapter is a detailed description of the painting, where it is hung in the National Gallery, and the questions that occur to the inquisitive viewer on first looking. Who are these people? What is going on in the painting? Why are they dressed in that way? What do their gestures mean?

The book then follows five ‘circles’ around the painting (consciously evoking the circle of thorns held behind Christ’s head). Each circle looks in turn at the subtexts of the painting, explored by Bosch.

First, we explore a circle of politics. Each of the four tormentors in the painting represents a particular social, religious and political power in the Europe of 1500. What was Bosch saying by depicting agents of the Holy Roman Empire, the Church, Jewry and the Muslim world as Christ’s tormentors? What is the interplay between religion and power represented, and what assumptions do we make about their relationship today?

Second, we explore a circle of science, which I call elements. The four tormentors represent the pre-modern scientific understanding of the four basic units of the universe; fire, earth, air and water. Each element had particular characteristics, and said something about God’s relationship with the universe and the possibility of our comprehension of creation. What is the proper relationship of science and religion in our own day? Is Richard Dawkins the last word on the matter, or does Bosch give us a way of expressing, in renewed confidence, a religious understanding of science?

The third circle builds on the elemental interpretation, by looking at the temperaments. For Bosch, human character was determined by the humoral theory; every person was governed by a particular temperament: melancholic, sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric. Where did this theory come from, and what is its relationship to modern psychological understandings of human psychology? What challenge to our personality does Bosch’s painting pose?

The fourth circle looks at the way Bosch’s painting was probably used in devotions. What was the spiritual atmosphere of Bosch’s day, and how does it relate to our own? The connection between the ‘devotio moderna’, Bosch’s life and Etty Hillesum (the Dutch writer and diarist killed at Auschwitz) is explored, with lessons for new forms of disciplined spiritual living for today.

The final circle, Quiddity, centres on the still subject of the painting, Christ himself. It does so by teasing out the differences in emphasis in the Gospel accounts of Christ’s passion, and asking what meaning we can find in the Incarnation and Passion today. A proper understanding of the mystery that Bosch has so subtly painted will transform our understandings of trust and time, two categories of thought most fruitful for proclaiming the Gospel today.

As such, the book is not a work of art history, although its art historical conclusions are sound. Writers and artists such as Keith Ward, Terry Pratchett, St Bonaventure, Etty Hillesum, Rowan Williams, Bill Viola and Brian Eno are referred to, and the relevance of their ideas for the painting and theme of the book are described and tested.

The BBC reports the Lambeth Conference march of witness, and finishes the report with an appeal for photographs:

But that’s impossible! Imagine taking photos of a procession of bishops without endangering yourself or others!

Simply can’t be done. Leave it to the professionals.

The secret plan to get bishops talking to each other is still working:

Despite the worst efforts of some, the tent of Dave still stands:

Some bishops walk everywhere, and some bishops don’t:

Some bishops enjoy strolling with their spouses:

Honoured to sit at the same table as 25% of the “GAFFECON 8″

In 1935 Dietrich Bonhoeffer set up an illegal seminary in Finkenwalde, in opposition to the Nazi dominated structures of the National Church:

The programme for the day began and ended with two long services. In the morning the service was followed by half an hour’s meditation, an exercise that was not interrupted by the circumstances of the removal, though packing cases and youth hostel bunks were the only furniture. The services did not take place in church but round the ordinary dinner-table. They invariably began with a Psalm and a hymn specially chosen for the day. There followed a lesson from the Old Testament, a set verse from a hymn (sung daily for several weeks), a New Testament lesson, a period of extempore prayer and the recital of the Lord’s Prayer. Each service concluded with another set verse from a hymn. Readings from the Psalms and the Scripture took the form of a lectio continua, for preference without any omissions. In structure this very much resembled Anglican evensong. Bonhoeffer believed that this sequence of readings and prayers was the most natural and suitable form of service for theologians.¹

Quite.

1. From Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: theologian, Christian, contemporary. ed. Edwin Robertson, tran. Eric Mosbacher (London: Collins, 1970). [↩]

I never really wanted 3MT to be a repository of sermons, but I have weakened. This is based on a sermon preached yesterday in St Stephen’s Church, Canterbury, in the light of the meeting of the Lambeth Conference, which is taking place within our parish. So, for this one occasion only (!), we present Eight Minute Theology…!

 

 3MT : Weeds, Wheat and Unity [8:14m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (39)

The fringe entertainment has yet really begun at the conference (despite the World’s Greatest Living Ecclesiastical Conference Cartoonist’s attempts at liturgical dancing and pigeon killing). The fringe will begin with the conference moving out of retreat next week.

In the meantime, here is a person and a trick that the conference organizers have missed. What a lost opportunity!

Brother Cesare and the Brother Metal Band

With the bishops retreating to the cathedral, today the campus of UKC was curiously deserted, inhabited only by the bishop’s wives¹ (I would say “spouse”, being a good Guardian-reading liberal, but I didn’t see anyone who wasn’t a wife!):

There were wives from the sub continent:

There were wives from Africa:

Wives from Melanesia (who were in England for the first time, and having a ball learning about all sorts of new things):

… and wives from Canada:

(who thought, when I went up to ask if I could take their photograph, that they were about to be told off for being noisy! Canadians, eh? Noisy and conscientious!)

(That’s not sunshine outside the tent, but snow, brought in especially to make them feel at home).

There was a wonderfully calm feeling to the conference today, and as I wandered around I fantasied about today being the real Lambeth conference.

What would it be like if the Spouses Conference was the real business of the Anglican Communion?

What if all the bishops were like these women: looking out to make friends, learn new things, have a ball?

1. oops! typo! I suppose that should be “bishops’ wives”– I don’t think they all belonged to one man! [↩]

Thank you to all those of you who called by these parts yesterday, following the link from my good friend Simon (Anglican who Thinks) Sarmiento. The unexpected publicity pushed up my traffic from its usual:

to a fantastical:

(which all goes to show, there’s nowt so queer as folk, especially those who like to look at pictures of bishops in their (un)natural habitat).

There will be more in the following days, sheering exposes of “Signs of Life at Lambeth”™, but in the meantime, may I humbly present for your consideration, the following link to Amazon.co.uk:

(the bastards have discounted the book further since I grabbed the screen-cap, so if you buy now you’ll get even more of a bargain price!)

Well they’ve only gone and done it.

The pile of bishops arrived today, finding themselves, bewildered, in the University of Kent’s equivalent to Heathrow Terminal 5:

Once meeted, they were greeted (with “difficult” bishops being identified by specially trained volunteers)

The volunteers had to deal with refugee quantities of luggage:

(Not every bishop can afford those lightweight, collapsible mitres).

To find their way around the campus a system of Aramaic insignia has been devised (based upon textual variations in the Dead Sea Scrolls) — very clear as I’m sure you’d agree:

The “World’s Greatest Living Ecclesiastical Conference Cartoonist” will soon be plying his wares from this des res:

Some bishops have already found themselves, curiously, at home:

Others were being “inculturated” into the fine English tradition of queuing:

Some bishops’ wives (or perhaps she is a bishop herself?) remembered that there is a garden party at Buckingham Palace coming up:

Tomorrow…

into retreat!

The public face of religion in today’s society is more often than not determined by the heresy of the unpleasant bus driver, rather than anything religious people have actually done.

 

 3MT : The heresy of the unpleasant bus driver [4:30m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download (29)

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