Congratulations to Noel and others who are celebrating 50 years since their ordination. A great opportunity to look back on the influences upon his life and the development of his current progressive thinking. A good read giving insights into local and international developments that helped produce new thinking.

NOEL PRESTON REFLECTS

A SHORT PROLOGUE: THESE FIFTY YEARS (1967 – 2017)

 2017  marks many anniversaries.

 Fifty years ago, in 1967, the seeds of the turbulent sixties were coming to fruition. Multi-factors  triggered these social changes: the gross mistake of military incursion in Vietnam,  the sexual revolution, the civil rights struggle in the USA or the major shifts in academic debates which even made respectable the idea that “God Is Dead”. Late in 1967 on December 3, an amazing medical landmark was reached – the first human heart transplant was performed by the South African surgeon, Dr Christiaan Barnard. It was around the same time that Australia’s Prime Minister, Harold Holt, disappeared in the surf at Portsea, Victoria. As citizens we followed the grisly search on our black and white TVs. Earlier in the year a more grotesque demise was the hanging of Ronald Ryan in the dawn of February 3 at Melbourne’s Pentridge Gaol. Thankfully, Ryan’s execution was the last such capital punishment in Australia. There are other milestones from 1967: for instance, the Seekers were Australians of the Year and Gough Whitlam became Leader of the Federal Labour Party. Most momentous of anniversaries  in Australia was the overwhelming vote of Australians  on May 27, 1967, which opened the way for a constitutional change, resulting  finally in the inclusion  of  First Australians in the population count and granting the  Commonwealth power to legislate on behalf of indigenous Australians.

Another anniversary of major historical significance to the Western World is marked for All Saints’ Day in 2017. Then,  it will 500 years since Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the  door of the Castle church in Wittenberg, initiating a Reformation which, following the Renaissance,  transformed  Western culture and  the shape of Christendom.  Luther’s action and subsequent events crossed a threshold toward the movement historians now call modernity. It was a protest  congruent with the mood of rising nationalism and the emerging philosophical emphasis on the rights of the individual. Some might argue in this “semi-millenium” that 2017 should be celebrated as the death of Protestantism. Others might prefer to understand the present era  as a departure point for the Christian churches of  Protestantism to be revived beyond the recognition of  founders,  Luther, Calvin, Knox and Wesley. From my  perspective, I am convinced that I have lived through the death of the Protestant movement which can be traced back to Luther’s actions and the revolt against Rome which spread across northern Europe.   In multicultural societies like Australia, those who represent religion, as well as those who wish to find an authentic spirituality, must now make their way in a society dominated by secularism and post-modern cultural manifestations where science and its technological offspring shape the way we live and, to a great extent, what we believe.

Personally, if I pause to consider my peers and colleagues of  1967 I have no doubt that, by and large, they have rejected the worldview which defined their identity half a century ago. As to myself,  I  have changed and reshaped the vows I made in 1967: on January 12, 1967 I took marriage vows with Pat, the mother and grandmother of our children and grand-children; on October 16 in the same year I took  vows of ordination as a Methodist clergyman. Now, I am neither married to Pat nor am I a Methodist minister. There have been highs and lows these past fifty years. There are regrets and there have been mistakes. Still, fifty years on I am comfortable in my skin, grateful for so much and, overall, I have a strong sense of integrity as I look back. So,

FIFTIETH YEAR REFLECTIONS OF AN ORDINAND

Given my heritage and upbringing I was always going to be a Methodist minister. I am the son of a  minister with a high public profile, an outstanding evangelist  known for his many community welfare initiatives centred on 15 years at the West End Methodist Mission from 1948 to 1963.  Seemingly, I ticked all the boxes necessary as I moved towards being a candidate for ministry. As a twenty-one year old, in 1962 I was accepted to be a probationary assistant minister. My intensive theological training began in 1964 coinciding with an era, the sixties, when institutional foundations shook around the globe.  Even Christian theological interpretations were no longer sacrosanct as heralded in a paperback   published in 1963 by an English Bishop ( Robinson) – Honest to God.

On the evening of the 16^th October, 1967, I was ordained as a Methodist minister with six others (Clive Ayre, Bill Dalgleish, Eric Elliott, Paul Moore, Bob Philpott and John Woodley). A congregation  filled to overflowing gathered at the “cathedral” of Queensland Methodism, the church on the corner of Albert Street and Ann Street in the heart of Brisbane. The Methodist clergymen – there were no women – of the Queensland Conference, dressed fully in dark suits with clerical collars, paraded in order of “status”, into the front pews of the church accompanied by the magnificent pipe organ played by the legendary Archie Day. Among the laity present was a goodly number from the Methodist congregations of Mitchelton, Oxford Park and Samford where I had been ministering since February that year. My extended family together with my wife of nine months, Pat, joined the congregation.  My father, the Rev Arthur Preston OBE, sat with the family, no doubt conscious of his own ordination in the same manner and place, twenty-six years previously. (On the same day as this  ordination service we learnt that dad had been appointed by the Victorian Conference to be the Superintendent of the Wesley Methodist Mission in Melbourne, a fulfilment of his dreams).

Ascending to the high pulpit of Albert Street were the President of the Conference, Rev. Ivan Alcorn and the Conference Secretary, Rev. Ronald Howe – both ordinands themselves on that same night when Arthur was ordained.  The President had been my dad’s best buddy and best man. Indeed I’d been raised to refer to the legendary Ivan Alcorn as “Uncle Ivan”, a nom de plume which caused me discomfort as a youngster.

Altogether, for me, this ordination ritual was a thrilling occasion which  represented a culmination of my hopes and sense of vocation. Any of the doubts fermenting in my mind about traditional doctrine or disenchantment with institutional religion, let alone forebodings about how the culture of church and society would evolve in subsequent decades, were put on hold on this night.

As each of us were presented to this company by the Secretary of Conference, we gave our “testimony” recounting our journey in the Christian faith and, in particular, our call to the Methodist ministry. My intense formation in Methodism and my “conversion” to follow Jesus the Christ meant such testifying was simply declaring who I was at that point in my young life. The capacity congregation sang the grand Wesleyan hymns. Number 382 in the Methodist Hymn book was one which stays with me as an all consuming commitment – an impossible possibility:

Let Him to whom we now belong

His sovereign right assert……..

……Our all no longer ours but thine

To all eternity.

Then came the time for us ordinands to take our vows – all eleven of them. Looking now at my tattered Book of Offices which contains the full order for Methodist ordination I observe how those “authorised Orders of Service” were  very much a creation of nineteenth century British Methodism. The eleven vows look archaic through the twenty first century eyes of one who  has moved beyond Methodism and, some might say, beyond Christianity. I declared “with determination” “to teach nothing as required of necessity of salvation, but that which you shall be persuaded may be concluded and proved by the scriptures”. These “Holy Scriptures”, I agreed,  contain “all doctrine necessary proof for eternal salvation”. Then I affirmed that I believe the “doctrines” of the Methodist church. Finally I  agreed to “submit” “as a son of the Gospel”  “to those whom the Methodist Church shall appoint to ‘rule’ over me.”

The high point of the service came as we knelt  for “the laying on of hands” by a group including some nominated by the ordinand.   The President invoked “the Holy Spirit” as he intoned to each, one by one,“Take thou authority to fulfil the office of a Minister in the Church of Christ”. The Sacrament of Communion followed and each candidate shared “the Body and Blood” – the “Real Presence” as Methodists understood – with members of our family and friends.  Finally, according to tradition, the “charge” (or sermon) was given  by the ex–President, Rev Ambrose Hawley, a saintly man if not the most inspiring preacher. As the City Hall clock chimed, the service moved past the two hour mark.

It was time for the final hymn, resoundingly and harmoniously sung in Methodist congregational chorus which threatened to break through to the night-time heavens: “O Thou who camest from above…”.  “Uncle Ivan” pronounced the Benediction with the air of authority and conviction for which he was well known. The congregation  dispersed, as after a marriage,  mingling, while photos were taken and congratulations offered to the seven of us each in a corner of Albert Hall.

I have never seriously contemplated revoking my ordination though I was once questioned by an ex-moderator of the Uniting Church about that possibility. The only positions I have had in the Uniting Church in its forty years are: as inaugural Convenor of the Assembly Social Responsibility Commission (part-time), Executive Officer for the Victorian Synod Social Justice Commission (for two years) and founding Director of the Unitingcare Queensland Centre for Social Justice (for three years). Moreover, across the fifty years  since 1967 I have spent only nine in Parish ministry but twenty in secular university appointments. These twenty years were a formative period in which I became part of the St Mary’s Catholic community at South Brisbane (now in exile). Indeed, when I return these days to SMX occasionally, I realise how much I feel at home in that community and how much I appreciate the eucharistic liturgy which has been developed by that community over the years.   During the years I largely put aside  the clerical collar to wear the academic gown, I became known primarily for my role as a public ethicist.  Undoubtedly, the opportunity these years gave me to study and work outside the confines of the church facilitated a broader and deeper intellectual development as well as a truly ecumenical spirituality. Throughout this half-century I insist I have remained “theologically formed” and always a teacher – and, as well, something of a secular preacher.   Since I retired from active ministry and academia, for about 12 years I have exercised pastoral care as a volunteer hospital chaplain, specialising with oncology patients, of which I have been one since 1990.

Of course, none of us are the same person we were 50 years ago, and, as for ministry, I may be one who has  taken John Wesley’s motto, “The World is my Parish”, rather literally in a world that has changed so much across this half–century.   This 50th anniversary  causes me to ponder and reflect on some of those changes and how they may have impacted on the ordained ministry across Christian denominations.

In the 1960s  Roman Catholicism under Pope John XXIII addressed the question of reformation within the RC church and, finally, opened its windows to the world. No longer was there a Holy Roman Empire in which the Bishop of Rome was a de facto partner with monarchs and other dictators. Indeed, a few decades earlier , the Vatican state had been reduced to a Vatican City, a pretending sovereign state if you like. The Vatican Council which Papa John convened in 1963  faced an agenda to modernise Roman Catholicism. Many recognised this as a revolutionary move consistent with the spirit of the sixties throughout the Western world. Some reforming energy was released in liturgical changes, a growth in ecumenism and a renewed commitment to social justice. The latter was especially evident in Latin America where socialist activists were bolstered by the development of Liberation Theology. Certainly Vatican II gave hope and vision to many. In my work with the ecumenical agency Action for World Development  I  was influenced greatly by these movements while my appreciation of “catholic spirituality” deepened through many years of association with the progressive South Brisbane community of St Mary’s. Though the reforming zeal of Vatican II inspired many, it was not long lived – a succession of Popes and the Roman curia failed to take a cue from John, who died before the Vatican Council completed its deliberations. Its lasting achievements were confined to a band of the laity and a few religious and priests who, mainly in Europe, Australia  and the Americas,  have insistently challenged the hierarchical and discriminatory governance of Rome (particularly against women and those different of sexual orientations). The fact remains that in Catholicism there is still no place for women among the clergy and “celibacy” remains the norm. Meanwhile, we now know that fifty years ago paedophilia was being practised on a significant scale within the secrecy and sanctity of the church (i.e. the clergy and the religious).  At the same time the moral authority of the Vatican was weakened as it failed to embrace the contextual approach to ethics which  pluralism and medical, scientific and technological advances demanded.  The most revolutionary example of this was Papal rejection of the contraceptive pill.

By 1967 the so called sexual revolution was under way, though in most Australian households,  housewives (as married women were called) were not in the workforce. In my own denomination, Methodism (as in other non-Catholic churches) women could not be ordained though that changed, especially as Methodists, Congregationalists and a majority of Presbyterians moved towards the union which, in 1977, became the Uniting Church in Australia (the UCA). This initiative created a burst of energy and vision which was expressed publicly in the high profile of this infant church’s commitment to social justice especially toward the First Australians.  Those of us who longed for a more progressive Australian society found this refreshing after the long reign of Prime Minister Menzies and his conservative coalition. In  provincial Queensland, these social matters were contentious. Queensland Methodism (around the time of my ordination) defined Christian social responsibility  as opposition to the liquor traffic and opposition to all forms of gambling. At the same time, most Methodists trusted in the Country Party government to protect these community standards.  However, through the seventies and eighties, as advocates  for change, many of us were subject to police state methods under this government.

At an international level, in the 1960s, the ecumenical movement and a new approach to mission, changed the role of what previously we knew as “the overseas missionary”. No longer was the missionary bringing light and civilisation to backward heathens.  The emerging, decolonised nations of “the Third World” found a voice through the World Council of Churches (WCC). “Partnership” between national churches became the focus. The WCC  was a pretty comprehensive collection of Christian denominations, to which the Roman church was merely an observer. Across thirty or so years of the half-century since 1967, the WCC was a major player in church and secular politics around the globe. However,  as the denominations who bank rolled the WCC declined in their national spheres and as geo-politics evolved after the Soviet break-up, along with the rise of Asia as an economic force, the influence of the WCC also declined dramatically. Meanwhile, since the 1990s extremist Islam has asserted itself. In western nations, alongside this tragic reality, interfaith dialogue has become an urgent and widespread reality, while, at the individual level, the possibility of “hybrid spirituality”, for instance,  “the Greenie – Buddhist-Christian”, is  commonly evident.

This trend in the West toward the demise of traditional forms of Christianity has been very rapid  in the past twenty years. Apart from struggling to survive institutionally, most Christian denominations find themselves confronted by challenging ethical issues (and theological matters also). Sadly, at the same time, Australian Christianity experiences a  diminished  capacity to promote a strong  voice on many public debates.  Consequently, the traditionally influential voice of the church in public affairs has been marginalised. Multi-cultural societies, like Australia, are now subject to a secularism which, unfairly in many cases, insists on the Christian religion retreating from the public square. Thus, in state schools and generally, the observance of Christian feast days has been discouraged. Meanwhile, access to the public media has shrunk to an insignificant input – light years away from the situation in the sixties and seventies when statutory measures ensured coverage of religion on the national broadcaster and as a requirement for TV licences, while weekly religion columns appeared   in pretty well all print media. Moreover, pop culture has developed with little reference to the Christian story. By contrast, in the 1970s show pieces such as Jesus Christ Superstar,  and even the Monty Python film, The Life of Brian, could assume some popular knowledge  of the Jesus Story. No longer is that the case in societies like ours which developed against the background of  Judaeo-Christianity  and its core message of grace and redemption.

As the population ages and concurrently with the demise of public Christianity, the membership and worship attendance in churches is leading to an apparently inevitable decline of organised and practising Christianity. There are exceptions to this trend but the fact is that the most recent census in Australia  reported 31% of Australians claimed “no religion” ( an increase from 13% only 25 years ago), 52% claimed adherence to Christian denominations, a figure which was closer to 90% when I was ordained. Of course, globally, this trend has been accompanied by the rise of fundamentalist expressions of religion. This phenomenon often hides the emergence of  a progressive religious points of view.  Patterns of religious affiliation in Australia show Buddhism as the fastest growing group; peripheral sects such as Pentecostalism lead growth among Christian denominations.

Across the past fifty years the status and  role of the clergy in Australian society has dramatically changed.  While ordination numbers decline, at the local level, the work and witness of the churches I am familiar with is led more by the laity than was the Methodism into which I was ordained.  My impression is that this change in leadership is paralleled by a retreat from the wider community. I speak generally of course and chiefly of the so called “mainstream” denominations. Who could imagine today a “Mission to the Nation” as was the case in Australian Methodism of the fifties or youth work in which hundreds and hundreds of Secondary School children were recruited to mission in annual camps?  Some might say it is better that the “zeal to save the world” has  gone, but, along with that, a pastoral focus on the “unchurched” has gone and more and more ageing, part – time (often retired) ministers serve the dwindling and elderly number of church attendees.  With that, it seems to me that the ordained role has been diminished.

As to the demise of institutional Christianity in the western world, the Australian experiment, the Uniting Church in Australia   is an obvious case study. Despite the progressive approach of most UCA leaders, on the ground a large number of its members seem to be clinging to incredible and backward modes of religious belief and practice. By the 1990s, the membership of the UCA was in obvious decline and with it the number of congregations. Its numbers seeking ordination are sharply declining and this trend will worsen.  Of course, there are pockets of progressive,  relevant initiatives and bold experiments across the UCA;  it is a truly multicultural denomination which has strongly advocated for asylum seekers and refugees  as well as one which  promotes environmental values and social justice.  The scale of its welfare and social work  through the Wesley Missions and the Unitingcare arm of the UCA is impressive and vital to the broader Australian community. In particular the UCA has continued to be faithful to its commitment to the First Australians – a ministry with which I particularly identify. In fact, in this “fiftieth” year it is especially gratifying for me to be reconnected with aboriginal friends of the seventies (the family of Pastor Don Brady) who taught me so much.

Could I take ordination vows as UCA Minister of the Word today? Who knows?  While I continue to have a strong cultural tie with former Methodist colleagues, I do not feel quite the same with many UCA clergy.  As for my theology, in all honesty,  I can no longer say the Apostles or Nicene Creed.  Though the Jesus story remains central to my life, I cannot affirm the so called divinity of “the Christ”, or profess  a doctrine of sacrificial atonement. Moreover, along with many scholars I understand the Resurrection as the catalyst to Easter faith initiating the Jesus community rather than the story of a man (or demi-god) rising from the dead.  I no longer imagine or pray to an interventionist God while I struggle to sing the words of many hymns used in the Uniting Churches I  attend. That said, I actually don’t accept that any of the above list of non-beliefs are necessarily  disqualifications for ordination in a twenty-first century Uniting Church.  I remain convinced that humanity needs the spiritual nourishment which the Christian Gospel encourages but it must be embodied in an intellectually credible account. Moreover, I share a strong affinity with those of whatever community of faith who empower and care for  the marginalised while  focussing on social justice and environmental sustainability.

In my “personal reflection” documented with the Synod Minute at my official retirement on September 11, 2005 I declared: “I am filled with a  profound sense of gratitude as I look back across the years to the night I took my ordination vows.” Furthermore I  wrote: “I also reflect on my ordination with a fair degree of amazement at the way my ministry in the name of Christ has evolved.” Through it all (including my secular roles) I dare to hope I have acted authentically in the spirit named by Henri Nouwen in The Wounded Healer: “The imitation of Christ does not mean to live a life like Christ, but to live your life as authentically as Christ lived….the minister is the one….who puts his own search at the disposal of others..” Perhaps, therefore, the most moving plaudit I have received in ministry came to me just recently from a parishioner of almost 50 years ago. She kindly said: “Noel Preston taught us to think for ourselves”.

Noel Preston

Wellington Point

31st July 2017.

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 “Nothing worth doing can be achieved in a lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.

Nothing that is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith.  

Nothing that we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we are saved by love.” (Reinhold Niebuhr)

  “I am more interested in understanding faith as a way of seeing and trusting reality…which, in turn, supports a way of living with integrity and authenticity. In my own case I recognise that I cannot dispense with (theological ) beliefs altogether, even if their ‘truth’ is metaphorically rather than literally true. As a traveller in the new millenium, my faith must be credible, intellectually sustainable and coherent with contemporary cosmological understanding.” (Preston, 2006, Beyond the Boundary, 291)

 FOR NOEL PRESTON’S MEMOIR and OTHER PUBLICATIONS see www.noelpreston.info

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