Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

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Worship, Zionism, Forgiveness: Thoughts in Prague's Jewish Ghetto

By Anita Mathias

 Worship, Zionism, Forgiveness: Thoughts in Prague’s Jewish Ghetto

  
We spent this morning in Prague’s old Ghetto and Jewish quarter. 
Jewish people have lived in Prague for a millennium—subjected to a variety of petty restrictions: for a while the only trades open to them were the rag trade and the usury. They had to wear distinctive hats and ruffs and badges, which exposed them to persecution, they were regarded as the personal property of the King under the Statuta Judaeorum, subjected to pogroms and extortion.
The Spanish Synagogue was modelled on the Alhambra in Granada. It was a privilege to be inside a synagogue, and to walk up to the place where the Torah was stored for instance, well beyond the balcony reserved for women. I do not remember going to a synagogue before, though Roy says I must have.
 As is appropriate in a baroque city, it was entirely too much. Absolutely gorgeous, but too much. Ornate, colourful, gold and ruby and sapphire in fantastical geometrical patterns. Absolutely lavish. I felt as I did in the Cloud Forest in Costa Rica. There was so much, such a profusion of loveliness that I did not know what to focus on or to take in first.
The places humans devise to worship God are very interesting. Some like the Puritans wanted simplicity and purity. I am with them. Some, like Archbishop Suger, who designed Saint-Denys in Paris, and who is credited with introducing stained glass in cathedrals, and with the invention of Gothic itself, wanted “More Light” as Suger said, coloured light.
If I had to devise a place of worship, it would be a simple Gothic cathedral, maybe not as high-roofed as Amiens, but still immense, with long lancet windows, with alternately stained glass and natural green views outside. It would be set in a place of natural loveliness, in the kind of surroundings the Cistercians chose in Riveaux for instance.
The reverence for the Torah was moving—massive bejewelled Torah crowns, Torah shields, Torah pointers, finials, covers.  These had been gathered here from all over Eastern Europe by Hitler who wished to construct a Museum to an Extinct Race. What wickedness—wanting the destruction of an entire race.
Hitler’s pathological hatred of the Jews, the immense amount of time, organization, energy and resources he devoted towards his Final Solution was irrational—and one of the factors in his speedy downfall, most historians agree.  However, as we observed the historical evidences of anti-semitism in the museum, it was clear that Hitler was not acting in a vacuum. Part of his demonizing of the Jewish people was shrewd political calculation.  Jews were conjured up as the enemy to distract the populace from the miseries of hyper-inflation in the Weimar Republic, unemployment, and the crippling burden of reparations. And the holocaust would never have occurred without the tacit consent, encouragement, delight and collaboration of hundreds of thousands of people. I found the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. unbearably painful and did not go through the whole thing. One of the documentaries I remember is the gloating faces in the crowd watching Jews clear the rubble after Kristallnacht or Allied bombing raids, and the sheer exhaustion on the faces of the suited victims who had their businesses trashed, and then had to clear the wreckage.
The Pinkasova Synagogue had a chilling list, every inch of wall space covered of the names, dates of birth, and dates of death or transportation to the death camps of 80,000 Jews.  It is the longest epitaph in the world, though of course, it only represents a fraction of those who died in the camps.
Artists, writers, musicians, scientists, academics, psychologists, doctors—what an immeasurable loss of individuals who had lived, and learned and suffered and thought before they could transmit their learning and life experience to the next generation.  What a loss too of ordinary men and women, repositories of a wonderful oral tradition before it could be transmitted to succeeding generations.
Hitler’s Final Solution was to render the Jewish race e
xtinct. He did not succeed in this, of course. Though, he did partially succeed in his diabolical purpose. The vivid, quirky, eccentric, Eastern Jewish life of the ghettos and shetls celebrated in the stories of Sholem Aleichem, Isaac Bashevis Singer or the paintings of Max Chagall no longer exists.  And the world is the poorer for it.
Kafka grew up in the Jewish ghetto, though since his father was upwardly mobile he left it. However, the destruction of the old ghetto to make room for lavish five storey mansions on prime real estate left profound scars on his psyche. As a German speaker among Czechs who hated Germans, as a Jew among German speakers who hated Jews, and as an agnostic among believers, Kafka lived in a constant state of fear, the angst he describes.
The list of writers, playwrights, painters, musicians, academics, and scientists who either perished under or fled from Hitler is immense. What an vast amount of Jewish talent!! The victims of pogroms, fines, forced migrations, extortion of much of their history in Europe, European Jews tended to invest in the intangible–in scholarship, learning, culture, song, family ties, tradition, scripture. One would think that with all this Jewish talent amassed in Israel, we would have seen an unparalled flowering of culture, literature, and the arts. But we haven’t really. 
Perhaps standing outside the party, your nose pressed against the window, is what gives you the clearest view. Being an outsider helps you see the inside most clearly. While the psychological advantages of being an insider are considerable, you no longer have the vantage point of the outsider with which to view the party, the perspective of distance, the artistic tool of defamiliarization which helps you and your reader see things more clearly. 
 My husband Roy’s post-doctoral advisor at Stanford University, a old worldly Jew called Gene Golub told me that before the second World War, the Jewish culture of the shetls and ghettos was described as yiddishkeit, which I understood as an Old Worldly gentleness, sweetness, courtliness, courtesy, even unworldliness. I have sometimes encountered it, and it is charming. After the trauma of the Holocaust, Golub told me, the Jewish psyche and culture changed. Their watchword became “Never Again.”  What a dreadful psychological burden to live under!! The Israelis describe themselves as Sabras, prickly on the outside, sweet on the inside.
Not long after my conversation with Golub, Roy and I took a flight from JFK to Israel, where Roy was speaking at a Conference around the time of Succoth. The plane was full of Orthodox Jews from Brooklyn going to Israel for the festival—black clad, black hatted, ringlets to die for on either side of their faces, tassels, scrolls on their forehead, the works. At the correct time, they all stood up in unison, whipped out their prayer books, and proceeded to chant in unison, with synchronized bowing.
We hit turbulence. They continued unperturbed, though their swaying now owed something to atmospheric disturbance.  They steadfastly ignored all pleas to sit down by the increasingly agitated stewardess. Their chanting and bowing and swaying continued unabated. Finally, she announced over the intercom, “Could any Hebrew speaker here ask these guys to sit down?” knowing full well that they were New York Jews and understood every word she said as well as she did!!
Never again. What an enormous psychological burden to grow up with!! It is just the opposite of the philosophy taught by the Jewish Messiah, Yeshua or Jesus—though where his philosophy led him to in the short run is a matter of historical record.
Interestingly, Gandhi who achieved one of the most amazing Velvet Revolutions in the history of mankind by following the Nazarene’s principles of non-violence (and Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience) counselled the Jews of Europe not to resist Hitler. I wonder what would have happened if they had resisted him even less than they did? 
* *  *
At the end of this day full of thought and emotion, we walked through the Old Jewish Cemetery, Beit Hayyim, House of Life, full of massive gravestones. The same half acre or so has been used as a graveyard for a millennium. It was massively overcrowded as the ghettos were in life, people were buried twelve deep. Pretty much all the ground was taken up by a pell-mell assortment of gravestones, large, small, intricately carved in Hebrew. Masses of them.
Irene asked as we walked home, “Will the Jews ever forgive Hitler? Will the Jews ever forgive the Germans.”
Interestingly, that was the question Elie Wiesel asks in The Sunflower. As I remember it: A German commando, dying in pain, tells Wiesel how the SS crowded a village of Jews into a house, doused it with petrol, set it alight. He sees a man and a woman hold a child out of a window, put their hands over his eyes, and then jump. He shoots. Dying, in pain, he asks for a Jew, any Jew, to ask for forgiveness. Wiesel, seeing him blinded, dying, in immense pain, walks away, silently. The German dies, unforgiven.
Should he have forgiven him? Wiesel asks a panel of thinkers. Most said No.
And what did I answer Irene, aged 11, who asked me if the Jews and Israel would ever forgive the Germans. I said, “Yes. They will. They have to. They cannot go through life bearing the psychological burden of the wrong done to their families. They cannot be Atlas bearing the weight of all that evil on their shoulders. They have to toss that wrong into the dustbin of history. They have to forgive. They need not forget, but they have to forgive. For their own sakes. For the sake of their children. For the sake of their children yet unborn.
Because, in an irony of history I do not understand, those who cannot forgive or forget a wrong done to them WILL REPEAT THAT WRONG. It is an inexorable law. The bullied becomes a bully. The abused become abusers. Those who cannot forget the Nazis may repeat their conduct when they hold the reins of power.
We saw moving exhibitions today of anti-semitism through the millennia. We left convinced that the Jews undoubtedly need a homeland of their own, and why not the homeland promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, a homeland to which they are perhaps physiologically and psychologically adapted? But please, Israel, treat the Palestinian people who also love the land, as you would have wished to be treated in the long centuries of your exile, when by the rivers of the Vlatva, or Don or Danube, you sat down and wept as you remembered Zion, and wistfully said, “Next year in Jerusalem.”

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Irene and Prague

By Anita Mathias

Irene and Prague

Irene loves Prague. We ate out last night facing the astronomical clock after having walked down the Charles Bridge. We had had a decadent day of good meals, lots of shopping, lots of art. “That was a good day,” she sighed with happiness.  The last time she was this happy was after she discovered the Olde Sweete Shoppe on High Street, Oxford. She was so astounded by their huge variety that she could barely speak. “Mum,” she said, “Mum, Mum. It’s like Willy Wonka’s Factory.”
She has been going down to the liqueur chocolate store every hour. Finally we said, “No Irene, it is too late.” She, “That is what chocolate is for. Choco Late.” And dimpled winsomely, as if that would get her her way.
No way!

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Prague–The Fruits of Peace

By Anita Mathias

Prague: The Fruits of Peace


Prague is gorgeous–largely because it escaped bombing in the second world war!


Roy and I are taking a course in Medieval Continental Cathedrals at Oxford University this term. The lecturer, Hubert Pragnell, showed us some absolutely beautiful medieval stained glass windows in French cathedrals, and said it was one of the few instances of medieval stained glass which survived the devastation of the two World Wars.


That’s all that war and conflict does: destroys. And that is, sadly, the work of Satan–pulling down, destroying, undoing. 


Creativity and beauty flourish in times of peace. In peace, humans can display some of God’s endless creativity. 


War and conflict just leave wreckage–emotional, spiritual, and physical. The winners often are left with a hollow victory, and the losers lose, but get the best poetry and stories!!


What about righteous conflict? Is it an oxymoron? Of course not, because we live in a fallen world–of sin, greed and unrighteousness.


It is probably only to be embarked on when all else has failed, if mediation through righteous channels has not worked. I guess one needs patience and determination if one is to righteously challenge unrighteousness. And, thank goodness, not everyone is called to do this, all the time. I guess now and again, one has a Joan of Arc moment–when one has to confront what is wrong, as cannily as one can. But for the most part, God spreads the burden of seeing justice done around–so that generally one just has one Ahab or Pharaoh to confront in a lifetime–unless you are the wonderful Baroness Caroline Cox!

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The End of the Story: The Lamb upon the Throne

By Anita Mathias

The End of the Story: The Lamb upon the Throne


At my boarding school, St. Mary’s Convent, Nainital, we Catholic girls had to go to Mass five days a week, go to Benediction (sung worship) once a week, Adoration (personal prayer) once a month, and choir practice once a week. These were the minimal devotional requirements! A LOT of singing. I decided, as a school girl, that if I did not mean the words, did not understand what they meant in practice, had no experience of them, I would not sing them. That is what I now tell one of my daughters, who is most rational in her approach, to faith to do.


Therefore, I do not sing, 
Let the streets resound with singing,
Dancers who dance upon injustice. 


Or,
These are the days of Elijah
Declaring the Word of the Lord
And these are the days of Your servant Moses
Righteousness being restored


These are the days of Ezekiel
The dry bones becoming as flesh
And these are the days
Of your servant David
Rebuilding a temple of praise 



Oh, come on! I’ve been singing that for 15 years. Whose days are these? Make up your mind.


So, what do I do while the hypnotic music whips the young and emotional into a frenzy as they sing “dancers dance upon injustice.” Can’t very well sleep: music too loud. As I advise my daughter who finds worship a trial, think of God. Have an alternative image in your mind. Meditate on it.


Here’s the image I meditate on most often during worship when they are singing something I do not connect with. (The songwriters at St. Aldate’s are in their twenties, and love to bounce songs they have written off the congregation at Sunday worship.) I flick forward to the end of the story, and the lovely image of the lamb upon his throne. 


Revelation 5
 Then I saw in the right hand of him who sat on the throne a scroll with writing on both sides and sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming in a loud voice, “Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?” But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it. I wept and wept because no one was found who was worthy to open the scroll or look inside. 


Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.”

 Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne, encircled by the four living creatures and the elders. He came and took the scroll from the right hand of him who sat on the throne. And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song:


   “You are worthy to take the scroll
      and to open its seals,
   because you were slain,
      and with your blood you purchased men for God
      from every tribe and language and people and nation.
 10You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,
      and they will reign on the earth.”

 Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang:


   “Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
   to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
   and honor and glory and praise!”

 Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, singing:


   “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
   be praise and honor and glory and power,
         for ever and ever!” 


The four living creatures said, “Amen,” and the elders fell down and worshipped.”


Isn’t that something lovely to meditate on? What a perfectly lovely end of the story! 

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His Conversion Made C.S. Lewis Come Alive Creatively & Baptised his Imagination

By Anita Mathias

 
 Owen Barfield noted that there were three Lewises–Lewis, the scholar, whose critical books are still read today; Lewis, beloved children’s and science fiction writer;  and Lewis, the Christian writer and apologist. So multi-sided a writer: it’s astonishing. Lewis also wrote a beloved memoir, Surprised by Joy entwining all these aspects of his personality.

In Surprised by Joy, we read that becoming a Christian for Lewis, was essentially a recovery of the imagination and creativity, a recovery of the child-like sense of wonder at beauty, a recovery of joy. He describes the cold wind which blew from the North, the “strange cold air” of Norse mythology that captivated him (and totally captivated me as a child.)

I had become fond of Longfellow’s “Saga of King Olaf”: fond of it in a casual, shallow way for its story and vigorous rhythms. But then, and quite different from such pleasures, and like a voice from far more distant regions, there came a moment when I idly turned the pages of the book and found the unrhymed translation of “Tegner’s Drapa”, and read:

        I heard a voice that cried
Balder the beautiful
Is dead, is dead,

    I knew nothing about Balder; but instantly I was uplifted into huge regions of the northern sky; I desired with almost sickening intensity something never to be described (except that it is cold, spacious, severe, pale and remote) and then…found myself at the very same moment already falling out of that desire and wishing I were back in it.

* * *

In becoming a Christian, he recovers the things which were most precious to him– imagination, creativity, wonder, beauty, poetry, literature, mythology—all enhanced.

                          All which I took from thee I did but take,

                         Not for thy harms.

                        But just that thou might’st seek it in my arms.

                       All which thy child’s mistake

                      Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home”

                                Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven.

 W.B. Yeats observes in his autobiography that when he wanted to know if a man could be trusted he watched to see if he associated with his betters (his intellectual and creative superiors).

Lewis’s road to faith–as befits a bookish man, much of whose life was lived in, and mediated and refracted through books– was through the ivory tower of  reading and other writers. What a melange of writers brought him to faith—Plotinius!!, Phantastes by George Macdonald, which baptized his imagination, and introduced him to the feel of “holiness,” and G.K. Chesterton’s The Everlasting Man, a portrait of the central position of Christ in human history, which baptized his intellect.  “In reading Chesterton, as in reading MacDonald, I did not know what I was letting myself in for. A young man who wishes to remain a sound Atheist cannot be too careful of his reading. . . . God is, if I may say it, very unscrupulous.” Lewis comments.

He was a man most blessed in his friends.  Owen Barfield rids him of his “chronological snobbery,” the “uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate common to our age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that count discredited.”

During a now-famous all night walk, Tolkein and Dyson convince him that Christianity had elements of the myths he loved, the God who died to redeem, except it was a true myth, the ultimate story in which alone the longings and tales of redemption in all great myths were historically realized.  “The story of Christ is simply a true myth,” he says he discovered that night, “a myth working on us in the same way as the others, but with this tremendous difference that it really happened.”

As Adam Gopnik says in The New Yorker, “This was a new turn in the history of religious conversion. Where for millennia the cutting edge of faith had been the difference between pagan myth and Christian revelation, Lewis was drawn in by the likeness of the Christian revelation to pagan myth. Even Victorian conversions came, in the classic Augustinian manner, out of an overwhelming sense of sin. Cardinal Manning agonized over eating too much cake, and was eventually drawn to the Church of Rome to keep himself from doing it again. Lewis didn’t embrace Christianity because he had eaten too much cake; he embraced it because he thought that it would keep the cake coming, that the Anglican Church was God’s own bakery.”

 Faith for Lewis was a recovery of the sense of childlike joy and possibility, of infinite worlds within worlds. I must say it feels the same to me.

As a believer, he can return to the magical lands of his childhood, and in a sense see them for the first time. As he writes in “Surprised by Joy” “My first taste of Oxford was comical enough. I had made no arrangements about quarters and, having no more luggage than I could carry in my hand, I sallied out of the railway station on foot to find either a lodging-house or a cheap hotel; all agog for “dreaming spires” and “last enchantments.” My first disappointment at what I saw could be dealt with. Towns always show their worst face to the railway. But as I walked on and on I became more bewildered. Could this succession of mean shops really be Oxford? But I still went on, always expecting the next turn to reveal the beauties, and reflecting that it was a much larger town than I had been led to suppose.

Only when it became obvious that there was very little town left ahead of me, that I was in fact getting to open country, did I turn round and look. There behind me, far away, never more beautiful since, was the fabled cluster of spires and towers. I had come out of the station on the wrong side and been all this time walking into what was even then the mean and sprawling suburb of Botley. I did not see to what extent this little adventure was an allegory of my whole life.  

He looks back and recovers joy. In fact, I believe the things we loved and which turned us on as children are treasure-hunt clues hidden in our childhood by a good God–clues to the destiny and life’s work he has planned for us.

Gopnik goes on to say that his new-found faith got Lewis “to write inspired scholarship, and then inspired fairy tales. The two sides of his mind started working at the same time and together.”

And that is always how it is when one finds a voice, or finds oneself as a writer. Things one has thought, and felt, and read, and learned, and suffered and dreamed suddenly coalesce in a magical amalgam.

And in his forties, Lewis begins to work in fantasy, first science fiction, and then in his late forties, he begins to write very quickly and “almost carelessly” about the magic world of Narnia, which, as Gopnik puts it, “includes, encyclopaedically, everything he feels most passionate about: the nature of redemption, the problem of pain, the Passion and the Resurrection, all set in his favoured mystical English winter-and-spring landscape.”

New writing, a new thing, in one’s late forties, forged through a combination of one’s natural intelligence, gifts and interests, touched and sanctified by religious faith and love. What a very, very inspiring story!

 

 

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Choosing Our Own Address: In Christ

By Anita Mathias



 Choosing Our Own Address: In Christ


Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him.
 John 6:56


4Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
 5“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. 8This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples. John 15


These passages suddenly struck me forcibly a few years ago with the thought that I could choose my own address. 


I was free. If I felt angered by people, misunderstood, misused, I didn’t have to dwell in that country–of anger, bitterness, grievance and grudge.


I could choose my own address. I could choose to live in Christ, to dwell there.


I can choose to live in Christ,
Like a fish in the ocean,
An anemone in a tidal pool.
A pea in a pod,
A corpuscle in a bloodstream
Sap in the vine
A molecule in a tear-drop
Marrow in the bone
A baby in the womb
I can choose to live in Christ.


Thank you! 

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"Cheer Up, You Are Worse Than You Think."

By Anita Mathias

“Cheer Up, You Are Worse Than You Think.”

When I was a member of the evangelical, conservative, theologically sound PCA (Presbyterian Church of America), I was influenced, as the entire denomination was, by the teaching of Dr. Jack Miller, especially on the doctrine of Sonship. His son Paul was a friend of ours, and went through the 16 week course one on one with me and Roy, so that it did begin to change our thinking, and our understanding of the Father heart of God.

One of Jack’s favourite sayings when anyone got too mournful, or too defensive about their sin was, “Cheer up, you are worse than you think,” a comment accompanied by loud, uproarious laughter. If you asked him what that meant, he simply laughed, just as heartily and uproariously (a most irritating response for someone as essentially serious-minded as I am).

I haven’t figured out this aphorism. The consensus is that there is far, far, far more room for the grace and mercy of God to transform you than you can ever guess. Your sin is worse than you can guess, and so there is more room for the Redeemer to redeem you than you can ever guess.

There was a related saying I heard in the PCA. When someone did something which made them look bad, or looked bad without, in fact, doing what they were accused of, people would say, “Well, if people knew the worst about me, I would look a lot worse.”

That has comforted me so often, both when I have done something I am ashamed of and everyone knows, and when people think I have done something, and judge me for it, though, in fact, they are misjudging me. If they knew the worst things I have done, they would judge more far more harshly than they are correctly or incorrectly doing at present, I tell myself. And then I smile and shrug!

So cheer up. You are worse than even your enemies think you are. And cheer up, you are worse than you think you are. In far greater need for a redeemer to redeem your lost heart than you imagine. And cheer up, and thank God–there is a redeemer, and He is ready!!

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The Sensitivity of the Spirit and Decision Making

By Anita Mathias

The Sensitivity of the Spirit and Decision Making

Among the most formative experiences of my Christian life was a 5 year period of discipleship with my American friend, Paul. I edited and commented on the first draft of his manuscripts, which have now become two successful books, “Love Walked Among Us” and “A Praying Life.” He said in the former that he found his voice while working with me, and I am glad that happened. He was a skilled discipler– I guess an older tradition would have called it a spiritual director–and so we swapped spiritual direction for editing. He said, when we worked out our bargain, “Oh, I’ll come out ahead.” However, there is no doubt in my mind that I did that.

We studied Romans, Galatians and the Gospels over a period of 5 years, 1997 to 2002. Paul had written a 62 week study on the Gospels which I later taught, though not particularly successfully.  And there was homework. Lots of questions every week. I used to fax in 5 to 6 typed pages of my answers to the essay type questions, I sometimes got to 10 pages. I loved it; it made me think, which is one of my favourite activities– just thinking.

In discipleship, or spiritual direction, one has  to be honest (there is no sense going into it if one is not going to be as honest as it is humanly possible to be at that time. I get more honest about who I am each decade I live, as I care less about what people think of me.). So I handed in honest answers for a woman in her thirties.
* * *
An issue which came up was what a scientist friend of mine calls “dynamic equilibrium.” Holding in balance the two elements of my life–my call to write, and my call to be a wife and mother. Once I start writing and thinking, it is very hard for me to shift gears to laundry, dishes, house-keeping. I would resolve to balance my life better as Paul and I chatted for the weekly hour; resolve and fail.

Anyway, in our sessions, I would resolve to be the perfect housewife. To surrender my writing to God. How long would that last? Not very long. And I would fax in pages of homework on Romans, Galatians, the Gospels, the doctrine of sonship, whatever we were studying. (Paul was a theologian).

Finally, Paul said to me. “Anita, you should publish your homework. Just as it is.” (You know, I might, if I can bear to look back at it, and at that young spiritually struggling woman.)

Then he said, “Anita, your insights are priceless. But if you do not obey what the Spirit is saying, God will take them away, and not give you any more.”

And that was that. He was silent. And so was I.
* * *
I was chilled. It was one of the most formative sentences anyone has ever spoken to me.

I took it on board. It is one of my core convictions. That the most dangerous thing I can do is ignore what the Spirit is saying. Is to say,” I will obey in a little while,” as one of my daughters says when I say it’s bedtime.

Because, as R.T. Kendall, says in a book I have been leafing through,” The Sensitivity of the Spirit,” the Spirit is a gentleman. He gets up and leaves very quietly when he is ignored. And the worst thing is, you don’t even realize that he has got up and gone.
* * *
I have made many of the most significant decisions of my life because I heard the word of God telling me, sometimes in a clear memorable sentence, sometimes in an overwhelming impression, that that was what I had to do. I applied to (only!) the University of Oxford, when I lived in a small Indian town from where no one had gone to Oxford, because I heard God tell me to do that I decided to become a writer because I clearly heard the voice of God suggesting that I do that.  I married my husband, who was then just a good, dear friend, because again of an inner impression that I believed (and believe, was from God. I also fell in love, of course, once we started dating.) I started a unusual business because I heard clear directives from God on how to go about it. And we both left the 9-5 work world, again because I heard that directive from God in prayer. I took up blogging 5 months ago, because I heard God suggest it on a walk on a beach in France in April this year.

All these decisions have been good. What is the price for being able to hear vital, helpful, time-saving, very beneficial and blessed directions? This is it. Sigh. That when God says, “Anita dear, yes, that would be a lovely blog post, I agree, but please could you help Roy out with that messy room he’s trying to order,” I don’t say “in a bit,” but obey now. So the dreary obedience is the price of the amazing, pyrotechnic suggestions that the fun-loving Spirit delights in sharing.
* * *
On the subject of writing, my struggle was to surrender it to God, so that it was no longer MY writing. So that he could be my editor, literary agent, publicist. So that if was okay with me if I wrote loads of books, or none at all.

Praise God, that issue is no longer a live one in my life. How did that happen? Well,  I had to give up my writing for a period of almost 4 years–May 2006 until early Jan 2010. And when God returned my writing to me in January 2010, it was transformed. I wrote in an entirely different style, diametrically different from the literary style I had loved and aspired to before. I now write quickly, easily and a lot.

Something I have wondered about is the role of the Spirit in writing. Is good writing for a Christian the result of natural talent, much reading, much practice, much revision, hard graft, hard graft? Or can the Holy Spirit anoint you to write quickly, easily, and relatively well. I now know the answer. He can. He does. In his own time, and for his own purposes.

And the issue of balancing housekeeping and writing is also no longer a live issue. I am still Mary, I cannot help it, I am too dreamy to run a family’s life, leave alone my own. This issue has also finally been resolved this year. I have decided to write full-time; we have had a role reversal, and my husband is going to keep our house running, our lives orderly and only work very part time. Peace at last!! Both of us are totally thrilled with this decision.)

                                                                     * * *
I went through a period of turmoil over the last couple of weeks. What most disturbed me during this period was that I could not clearly hear what the Spirit was saying to me.

I witnessed what I considered an injustice, and wrote about it on this blog (posts now deleted, incidentally). Unfortunately, my writing bore a more than accidental resemblance to people living and not dead. Was I right? Or wrong? Should my post remain up? Or be taken down? I could think of compelling reasons on either side. So could everyone who advised me. I had an inbox full of emails, encouraging me to leave it up, urging me to take it down. And I could not hear what the Spirit was saying. And so I vacillated in a most uncharacteristic way for I am usually a decisive woman, who can make up my mind and act very quickly.
* * *
I was telling my husband, Roy this morning, that I wish I had written down the reasons for and against both courses of action. I have used that way of decision making for over 25 years, since another spiritual adviser suggested it to me. Once the reasons for a course of action fill a couple of pages, and the reasons against it are slim (I  include scriptural verses and principles in these columns), the commonsensical course is now clear.

Common sense is one element in discerning God’s will. One element. Not the only element, nor the crucial one. The crucial one, I believe, is what the spirit and the word say.

“Oh Roy,” I said. “I wish I had just written down the arguments for and against. My course of action would have been so much clearer.”

“Well,” he said, “The experience need not be wasted. You are a writer. Write a post about the wisdom and sanity of this method of decision-making. It will be an interesting post.”

And if it isn’t, friends, well, you know whom to blame!!

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anita.mathias

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Oxford, England. Writer, memoirist, podcaster, blogger, Biblical meditation teacher, mum

Hi Friends, I have taped a meditation; do listen a Hi Friends, I have taped a meditation; do listen at this link: https://anitamathias.com/2025/04/08/the-kingdom-of-god-is-here-already-yet-not-yet-here-2/
It’s on the Kingdom of God, of which Christ so often spoke, which is here already—a mysterious, shimmering internal palace in which, in lightning flashes, we experience peace and joy, and yet, of course, not yet fully here. We sense the rainbowed presence of Christ in the song which pulses through creation. Christ strolls into our rooms with his wisdom and guidance, and things change. Our prayers are answered; we are healed; our hearts are strangely warmed. Sometimes.
And yet, we also experience evil within & all around us. Our own sin which can shatter our peace and the trajectory of our lives. And the sins of the world—its greed, dishonesty and environmental destruction.
But in this broken world, we still experience the glory of creation; “coincidences” which accelerate once we start praying, and shalom which envelops us like sudden sunshine. The portals into this Kingdom include repentance, gratitude, meditative breathing, and absolute surrender.
The Kingdom of God is here already. We can experience its beauty, peace and joy today through the presence of the Holy Spirit. But yet, since, in the Apostle Paul’s words, we do not struggle only “against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the unseen powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil,” its fullness still lingers…
Our daughter Zoe was ordained into the Church of E Our daughter Zoe was ordained into the Church of England in June. I have been on a social media break… but … better late than never. Enjoy!
First picture has my sister, Shalini, who kindly flew in from the US. Our lovely cousins Anthony and Sarah flank Zoe in the next picture.
The Bishop of London, Sarah Mullaly, ordained Zoe. You can see her praying that Zoe will be filled with the Holy Spirit!!
And here’s a meditation I’ve recorded, which you might enjoy. The link is also in my profile
https://anitamathias.com/2024/11/07/all-those-who-exalt-themselves-will-be-humbled-the-humble-will-be-exalted/
I have taped a meditation on Jesus statement in Ma I have taped a meditation on Jesus statement in Matthew 23, “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Do listen here. https://anitamathias.com/2024/11/07/all-those-who-exalt-themselves-will-be-humbled-the-humble-will-be-exalted/
Link also in bio.
And so, Jesus states a law of life. Those who broadcast their amazingness will be humbled, since God dislikes—scorns that, as much as people do.  For to trumpet our success, wealth, brilliance, giftedness or popularity is to get distracted from our life’s purpose into worthless activity. Those who love power, who are sure they know best, and who must be the best, will eventually be humbled by God and life. For their focus has shifted from loving God, doing good work, and being a blessing to their family, friends, and the world towards impressing others, being enviable, perhaps famous. These things are houses built on sand, which will crumble when hammered by the waves of old age, infirmity or adversity. 
God resists the proud, Scripture tells us—those who crave the admiration and power which is His alone. So how do we resist pride? We slow down, so that we realise (and repent) when sheer pride sparks our allergies to people, our enmities, our determination to have our own way, or our grandiose ego-driven goals, and ambitions. Once we stop chasing limelight, a great quietness steals over our lives. We no longer need the drug of continual achievement, or to share images of glittering travel, parties, prizes or friends. We just enjoy them quietly. My life is for itself & not for a spectacle, Emerson wrote. And, as Jesus advises, we quit sharp-elbowing ourselves to sit with the shiniest people, but are content to hang out with ordinary people; and then, as Jesus said, we will inevitably, eventually, be summoned higher to the sparkling conversation we craved. 
One day, every knee will bow before the gentle lamb who was slain, now seated on the throne. We will all be silent before him. Let us live gently then, our eyes on Christ, continually asking for his power, his Spirit, and his direction, moving, dancing, in the direction that we sense him move.
Link to new podcast in Bio https://anitamathias.co Link to new podcast in Bio https://anitamathias.com/2024/02/20/how-jesus-dealt-with-hostility-and-enemies/
3 days before his death, Jesus rampages through the commercialised temple, overturning the tables of moneychangers. Who gave you the authority to do these things? his outraged adversaries ask. And Jesus shows us how to answer hostile questions. Slow down. Breathe. Quick arrow prayers!
Your enemies have no power over your life that your Father has not permitted them. Ask your Father for wisdom, remembering: Questions do not need to be answered. Are these questioners worthy of the treasures of your heart? Or would that be feeding pearls to hungry pigs, who might instead devour you?
Questions can contain pitfalls, traps, nooses. Jesus directly answered just three of the 183 questions he was asked, refusing to answer some; answering others with a good question.
But how do we get the inner calm and wisdom to recognise
and sidestep entrapping questions? Long before the day of
testing, practice slow, easy breathing, and tune in to the frequency of the Father. There’s no record of Jesus running, rushing, getting stressed, or lacking peace. He never spoke on his own, he told us, without checking in with the Father. So, no foolish, ill-judged statements. Breathing in the wisdom of the Father beside and within him, he, unintimidated, traps the trappers.
Wisdom begins with training ourselves to slow down and ask
the Father for guidance. Then our calm minds, made perceptive, will help us recognise danger and trick questions, even those coated in flattery, and sidestep them or refuse to answer.
We practice tuning in to heavenly wisdom by practising–asking God questions, and then listening for his answers about the best way to do simple things…organise a home or write. Then, we build upwards, asking for wisdom in more complex things.
Listening for the voice of God before we speak, and asking for a filling of the Spirit, which Jesus calls streams of living water within us, will give us wisdom to know what to say, which, frequently, is nothing at all. It will quieten us with the silence of God, which sings through the world, through sun and stars, sky and flowers.
Especially for @ samheckt Some very imperfect pi Especially for @ samheckt 
Some very imperfect pictures of my labradoodle Merry, and golden retriever Pippi.
And since, I’m on social media, if you are the meditating type, here’s a scriptural meditation on not being afraid, while being prudent. https://anitamathias.com/2024/01/03/do-not-be-afraid-but-do-be-prudent/
A new podcast. Link in bio https://anitamathias.c A new podcast. Link in bio
https://anitamathias.com/2024/01/03/do-not-be-afraid-but-do-be-prudent/
Do Not Be Afraid, but Do Be Prudent
“Do not be afraid,” a dream-angel tells Joseph, to marry Mary, who’s pregnant, though a virgin, for in our magical, God-invaded world, the Spirit has placed God in her. Call the baby Jesus, or The Lord saves, for he will drag people free from the chokehold of their sins.
And Joseph is not afraid. And the angel was right, for a star rose, signalling a new King of the Jews. Astrologers followed it, threatening King Herod, whose chief priests recounted Micah’s 600-year-old prophecy: the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, as Jesus had just been, while his parents from Nazareth registered for Augustus Caesar’s census of the entire Roman world. 
The Magi worshipped the baby, offering gold. And shepherds came, told by an angel of joy: that the Messiah, a saviour from all that oppresses, had just been born.
Then, suddenly, the dream-angel warned: Flee with the child to Egypt. For Herod plans to kill this baby, forever-King.
Do not be afraid, but still flee? Become a refugee? But lightning-bolt coincidences verified the angel’s first words: The magi with gold for the flight. Shepherds
telling of angels singing of coming inner peace. Joseph flees.
What’s the difference between fear and prudence? Fear is being frozen or panicked by imaginary what-ifs. It tenses our bodies; strains health, sleep and relationships; makes us stingy with ourselves & others; leads to overwork, & time wasted doing pointless things for fear of people’s opinions.
Prudence is wisdom-using our experience & spiritual discernment as we battle the demonic forces of this dark world, in Paul’s phrase.It’s fighting with divinely powerful weapons: truth, righteousness, faith, Scripture & prayer, while surrendering our thoughts to Christ. 
So let’s act prudently, wisely & bravely, silencing fear, while remaining alert to God’s guidance, delivered through inner peace or intuitions of danger and wrongness, our spiritual senses tuned to the Spirit’s “No,” his “Slow,” his “Go,” as cautious as a serpent, protected, while being as gentle as a lamb among wolves.
Link to post with podcast link in Bio or https://a Link to post with podcast link in Bio or https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/22/dont-walk-away-from-jesus-but-if-you-do-he-still-looks-at-you-and-loves-you/
Jesus came from a Kingdom of voluntary gentleness, in which
Christ, the Lion of Judah, stands at the centre of the throne in the guise of a lamb, looking as if it had been slain. No wonder his disciples struggled with his counter-cultural values. Oh, and we too!
The mother of the Apostles James and John, asks Jesus for a favour—that once He became King, her sons got the most important, prestigious seats at court, on his right and left. And the other ten, who would have liked the fame, glory, power,limelight and honour themselves are indignant and threatened.
Oh-oh, Jesus says. Who gets five talents, who gets one,
who gets great wealth and success, who doesn’t–that the
Father controls. Don’t waste your one precious and fleeting
life seeking to lord it over others or boss them around.
But, in his wry kindness, he offers the ambitious twelve
and us something better than the second or third place.
He tells us how to actually be the most important person to
others at work, in our friend group, social circle, or church:Use your talents, gifts, and energy to bless others.
And we instinctively know Jesus is right. The greatest people in our lives are the kind people who invested in us, guided us and whose wise, radiant words are engraved on our hearts.
Wanting to sit with the cleverest, most successful, most famous people is the path of restlessness and discontent. The competition is vast. But seek to see people, to listen intently, to be kind, to empathise, and doors fling wide open for you, you rare thing!
The greatest person is the one who serves, Jesus says. Serves by using the one, two, or five talents God has given us to bless others, by finding a place where our deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet. By writing which is a blessing, hospitality, walking with a sad friend, tidying a house.
And that is the only greatness worth having. That you yourself,your life and your work are a blessing to others. That the love and wisdom God pours into you lives in people’s hearts and minds, a blessing
https://anitamathias.com/.../dont-walk-away-from-j https://anitamathias.com/.../dont-walk-away-from-jesus.../
Sharing this podcast I recorded last week. LINK IN BIO
So Jesus makes a beautiful offer to the earnest, moral young man who came to him, seeking a spiritual life. Remarkably, the young man claims that he has kept all the commandments from his youth, including the command to love one’s neighbour as oneself, a statement Jesus does not challenge.
The challenge Jesus does offers him, however, the man cannot accept—to sell his vast possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow Jesus encumbered.
He leaves, grieving, and Jesus looks at him, loves him, and famously observes that it’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to live in the world of wonders which is living under Christ’s kingship, guidance and protection. 
He reassures his dismayed disciples, however, that with God even the treasure-burdened can squeeze into God’s kingdom, “for with God, all things are possible.”
Following him would quite literally mean walking into a world of daily wonders, and immensely rich conversation, walking through Israel, Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan, quite impossible to do with suitcases and backpacks laden with treasure. 
For what would we reject God’s specific, internally heard whisper or directive, a micro-call? That is the idol which currently grips and possesses us. 
Not all of us have great riches, nor is money everyone’s greatest temptation—it can be success, fame, universal esteem, you name it…
But, since with God all things are possible, even those who waver in their pursuit of God can still experience him in fits and snatches, find our spirits singing on a walk or during worship in church, or find our hearts strangely warmed by Scripture, and, sometimes, even “see” Christ stand before us. 
For Christ looks at us, Christ loves us, and says, “With God, all things are possible,” even we, the flawed, entering his beautiful Kingdom.
https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/07/how-to-find-th https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/07/how-to-find-the-freedom-of-forgiveness/
How to Find the Freedom of Forgiveness
Letting go on anger and forgiving is both an emotional transaction & a decision of the will. We discover we cannot command our emotions to forgive and relinquish anger. So how do we find the space and clarity of forgiveness in our mind, spirit & emotions?
When tormenting memories surface, our cortisol, adrenaline, blood pressure, and heart rate all rise. It’s good to take a literally quick walk with Jesus, to calm this neurological and physiological storm. And then honestly name these emotions… for feelings buried alive never die.
Then, in a process called “the healing of memories,” mentally visualise the painful scene, seeing Christ himself there, his eyes brimming with compassion. Ask Christ to heal the sting, to draw the poison from these memories of experiences. We are caterpillars in a ring of fire, as Martin Luther wrote--unable to rescue ourselves. We need help from above.
Accept what happened. What happened, happened. Then, as the Apostle Paul advises, give thanks in everything, though not for everything. Give thanks because God can bring good out of the swindle and the injustice. Ask him to bring magic and beauty from the ashes.
If, like the persistent widow Jesus spoke of, you want to pray for justice--that the swindler and the abusers’ characters are revealed, so many are protected, then do so--but first, purify your own life.
And now, just forgive. Say aloud, I forgive you for … You are setting a captive free. Yourself. Come alive. Be free. 
And when memories of deep injuries arise, say: “No. No. Not going there.” Stop repeating the devastating story to yourself or anyone else. Don’t waste your time & emotional energy, nor let yourself be overwhelmed by anger at someone else’s evil actions. Don’t let the past poison today. Refuse to allow reinjury. Deliberately think instead of things noble, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.
So keep trying, in obedience, to forgive, to let go of your anger until you suddenly realise that you have forgiven, and can remember past events without agitation. God be with us!
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