• Review: Leaving Alexandria: A Memoir of Faith and Doubt – Richard Holloway

    Here’s my review of Bishop Richard’s book which recently appeared in inspires:

    It is hard these days to engage with the media of the chattering classes without encountering Richard Holloway. He who was once merely our Primus has become the darling of the exasperated folk for whom the church is no longer a vehicle for the divine but has instead become a stumbling block upon the way. Scarcely a week goes by without someone at church wanting to talk to me about the perceived ‘fact’ that the former Bishop of Edinburgh has lost his faith. Some are inspired by him. Some are frustrated by him. Some are outraged.

    Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

    Upon reading Richard Holloway’s new memoir Leaving Alexandria, it becomes immediately obvious that the author has not simply lost his faith. That, after all would be to see the world in black and white – the very thing that he insists we guard against. The truth is considerably more interesting.

    This is a beautiful book. It is often a melancholy book. It is a book that must come top of the list of recent books which someone seeking to understand the modern Scottish Episcopal Church needs to read.

    We begin, as each romantic needs must do, in a graveyard. To be precise, we begin in the graveyard at Kelham College. Kelham was the monastic community into which the young Richard Holloway was entrusted in order to turn him into a priest for the mission field. Kelham is no more and as the author gazes around the graveyard looking at the graves of his mentors and teachers there is a strong, powerful sense of acute loss.

    Did Kelham succeed with Richard Holloway or did it fail? Did it manage to embed into his soul its unique charism? Or did it fail him utterly or even fail the church by producing him? Is the demand that Richard Holloway makes of the world even now to take seriously spiritual questions, in fact simply his own response to a lost religious community that lives yet in his heart?

    Years after ceasing to be the Bishop of Edinburgh and Primus of the Scottish Episcopal Church, Richard Holloway is still capable of generating headlines; still has an immense tolerance for the limelight and still says things more interesting than most of the other religious figures in Scotland put together. That in itself ought to be reason enough to want to read this book which whilst masquerading as autobiography is really something considerably more profound.

    For those who know the Scottish Episcopal Church, there are plenty of other reasons too. Familiar figures pop up throughout its pages. There are glimpses into the world a Primus must inhabit. Some are clearly glamorous – some much more uncomfortable, such as having to face Episcopal colleagues grumpy at a description of opponents of the ordination of women as “miserable buggers” and “mean-minded wee sods”.

    There are many pages here that move me, but none more so than those dealing with the reasons for the Mission 21 initiative in the Scottish Episcopal Church. Much that is written about mission these days seems to be about keeping churches going – often churches which seem to have lost their entire raison d’etre. The motives behind Mission 21 remain as compelling as ever. Here we find a heart beating for the poor in spirit, a soul desperate to reach out to the theologically needy and a passion for those who have been abandoned by much organized religion. It is an agenda for mission which remains completely relevant and persuasive in a way that makes congregation-saving seem utterly banal.

    Having read this book, I have my own sense of melancholy about Richard Holloway’s ministry. However, I’m unable to think terribly negatively about his life. I’m unable to believe that his current proclamations about doubt are the tragedy that many people seem to think. They seem more likely to me to be merely the latest successes of a consummate attention-seeker, trying to draw the world back to an encounter with the deepest spiritual values of all.

    Kelham did something to Richard Holloway which ensured that whilst he has breath in his lungs the rest of the world will think about God.

    Never more so than by reading what is written in these pages.

    Buy now at Amazon: Leaving Alexandria: A Memoir of Faith and Doubt

    Comments welcome

66 responses to “Sermon Preached on 9 October 2011”

  1. kelvin Avatar

    Now, I think we are in danger of moving away from commenting on the sermon that was posted above.

    Further comments that are focused on that sermon are welcome. I think that I will exercise my perogative and choose not to host any further debates on this thread unless they pertain directly to the orginal post.

    Several comments from those of differing opinions have been gently hushed.

  2. Alan McManus Avatar

    I remember hearing you preach this sermon, Kelvin, and being surprised at your take on it. Mine, I now realise (thanks for the research, Rosemary), came from Augustine (via my RC school chaplain, now happily married, whose constant theme was the love of God for us). It’s difficult to revise views learned while young as the evidence we accepted as children is not always acceptable to our adult minds – if we chose to review it. So I sympathise both with my coreligionist and with our Cromwellian interlocutor, despite their abrasive tone and the fun we can have with bowels and prostrates: they appear both to speak the truth as they see it. But so does everyone else commenting – and some (like Jaye) read the Hebrew scriptures in the original. I like the interpretation put forward by Kenny and Agatha and just because it was a convenient one for Augustine doesn’t mean it has to lack truth. So I turned to the Greek for backup and the first word that struck me was Ἀρίστων (ariston) which has connotations of excellence and survives in ‘aristocrat’. This king calls his ‘banquet’ (Jerusalem Bible) literally ‘my excellence’ – and he’s obviously gone all out. So none of the big wigs turn up and he goes all inclusive and gets the good and the bad in. Then throws a hissy fit about the dress code. He sounds A LOT like me when I’m directing. Then I noticed there’s a lot of play on IN and OUT (even ‘crossroads’ is διεξόδους – diexodous – way out ways?) and the final words are a pun on κλητοί (kletoi – named/ invited) and ἐκλεκτοί (eklektoi – called/ chosen).
    Now I suspect that shackling a quest hand and foot and shoving him out the door into outer darkness (the Greek word for darkness is the Classical root of ‘Scotland’!) may have put a rather gloomy outlook on the evening’s festivities. Could that be the point? It’s sandwiched between the parable of the wicked husbandmen that has the son of vineyard owner exit sharply and the trap Jesus escapes about taxes.
    With all this about ‘who’s in who’s out?’ and ‘which side of the coin are you on?’ can we take this passage with a pinch of Paul (and Augustine, and Cromwell) and say ‘our righteousness is as filthy rags before the Lord’? So the point is not how we are named/ that we are invited but that the church (ekklesia) we are chosen and called to be is not one of domineering control freaks throwing hissy fits because the excellence of their table arrangements has been spoilt by someone not following rubrics. Or by (ditto) because their nice ideas about biology (JS, once you mention ‘purpose’, no biologist will take you seriously) have been spoilt by people in love. St Mary’s is a great liturgical feast indeed. Everyone goes all out for excellence. Yet I’ve seen the oddest-dressed people doing the oddest things (me late, again, in my glad rags included) welcomed. The RC Church in Scotland, of whose hierarchy I am deeply deeply ashamed, would do well to stop whitewashing sepulchers and start calling the clergy and laity in their charge to inclusive love.

    1. Alan McManus Avatar

      That should be άριστον, guest, εκλεκτοί. Transliteration is correct, it was the cut and paste that was slapdash. Fortunately my phone does Greek (no pun intended) but it doesn’t do breathings.

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