Lost coins and theological baristas

In the sermon today the preacher at All Saints' Margaret Street said that it is God's nature to come looking for us, just as the woman in today's gospel persevered in looking for the coin she had lost. God's love for is also foolish and reckless, like the shepherd who leaves 99 perfectly normal sheep to go looking for the one stupid one. "Who would want to look for me?" The preacher asked. 

       Today Nancy and I got separated for awhile amidst the seething masses on Oxford Street. It was no crises, but being separated from my only personal connection in this sprawling city contributed to any feelings of "lostness" I may have had, as well as any sense of being a "loser". If the gospel is to be believed, then this was the closest to God that Nancy and I have been so far on the pilgrimage, and the experience of practically running into each other on the crowded sidewalk was an example of the kingdom coming on earth as it does in heaven. 

       I think it was Albert Camus who wrote so poignantly about the "forlorn ness" of the human condition, about our status as aliens in the cosmose, bereft of the companionship that accompanies membership in a natural species by virtue of humanity's god-like capacity for self-creation. For Camus and his existentialist comrades, there is no cure for such cosmic loneliness, only the bittersweet consolation of fleeting solidarity with other defiant souls.

     And what if it is God who is lost? In the London Times today an article and an Op Ed piece each described the success of the "Sunday Assembly", a Sunday morning event for people who want to reflect on the meaning of life, engage in good works, and generally be encouraged and inspired without any reference to God. This project is the brainchild of a professional comedian who is described as "blonde and charismatic" and about to depart on a world tour to promote his vision. The Times article concluded with a quote from one of the Sunday Assembly's satisfied customers, to the effect that "the coffee and tea were good, and the cakes and cookies every bit as good as you'd get at a real church."

     A real church? How about a "real" God? Today at "The Moot" Community I spoke with members of that "Emergent Church" about the poverty of the "God" most "Sunday Assembly" customers may find an obstacle. Matt, one of the Moot members,  observed that "modernity" is tied to the Cartesian idea of the sovereign individual (Camus also, to an extent), which results in a "God" who is a "projection of an individual's identity out into the cosmos." Along with Descartes, there used to be an attitude of CERTITUDE about this projection that accompanied certainty about the thinking self. When contemporary physics and our awareness of the magnitude of suffering in the world cast doubt on this misguided need for certitude, it seemed that "god" had to go. 

       What about an INCARNATE God? What about a God who addresses us from "outside" our self-consciousness? What about a God who is the NEGATION of certitude? What about a God who proceeds from "religio" in its original meaning, that involves being "bound to one's neighbour" in community? 

      When I complained of the "museum like" quality of many English churches, Matt the Barista added this thought: "the concept of a 'museum' comes from the idea of a place where one comes to consult 'The Muses', those pre-Christian spirits who were thought to inspire creative activity of all sorts. And what is God but the One Who, unexpectedly and by surprise, ambushes us with kindred spirits in a strange city, with bread in the wilderness, with the sudden appearance of a beloved face in a faceless crowd?

     The more lost we become, the more akin to the lost God we become. The more lost God gets, the more akin to us God is. 

      How about that? A customer comes into the Moot Coffee house, listens for a moment, and says: "you guys haven't been getting enough sleep."