Cheryl Wonders ...

Reflective Blessing

2010-12-11T16:25:00.006Z

Our forefathers chose to use this
cold and dark, inhospitable season,
to mark the hardness of the world
into which Jesus was born,
and into which many children are born each day,
in poverty, in conflict,
without a safe place to rest and live and thrive.

“Jesus” means God Saves.
And for many people today, as in Jesus' day,
salvation is a really physical, material thing:
safety from enemies, from abusers,
salvation from hunger and thirst,
from cold and disease.

And all of us, at some stage in our lives,
sense a need for salvation,
healing from sickness of body or soul,
freedom from oppression, bullying,
and the internal and external voices telling us:
"you’re not good enough"
"you can’t change the world"
"you can’t do things any better",
oppressing us with guilt
cynicism

fear.

Into the remotest reaches
of the most marginalised people in the world
- and into the cold darkness of our hearts -
the Light of the World comes:
One, short Life,
lived in one small country,
yet transforming hundreds, thousands of lives
in his own day
The light was passed on,
other Hearts were warmed
till they too glowed with the love of God.

He died.
Cruelly
abominably
tortured
flogged
stripped and paraded before the people
hounded out of town.

This is how God chooses to be Immanuel

God with us.
God in Christ

doesn’t avoid the dirt or the darkness.
God in Christ

reconciles the whole world, through his death.

As wick touches wick,

we are united in the darkness of death;
but the Warmth of God in Christ

brings life that death cannot destroy.
Rekindled to a new life.
Everything is possible.

You don’t need to be good enough.
You don’t need to change the world.
You don’t need to do things better.
Christ, the Light, is in you,
and his Warmth is Bright enough for all to see.
In him all things are possible

all things are new
and the world will never be the same.

Light, in our darkness,

kindle a flame.
Let your warmth glow in

and through us.
Let us like Mary be willing

bearers of your light,
trusting you

for outcomes and consequences;
Let your Holy Spirit bring

the new life of the children of God

to dwell in us,
so that the whole world may have
light in place of darkness,

hope in place of despair.

In the Community of all your children,
May the cold be warmed,
May the homeless find refuge and rest;
May the hungry be fed,
May the thirsty be satisfied,
The sick healed

and prisoners find true freedom
May we be united in peace

as children of Light
This Christmas, and in eternity.
Amen.

I wrote this for our Christmas Carol Service in the University of Ulster last Tuesday, to be co-read with my wonderful assistant chaplain, Katherine Rush.

The picture is my own. If you'd like to use it, please let me know.

An Advent Prayer

2010-12-11T16:04:00.006Z

A number of people seem to have found this prayer helpful, so I thought I should post it here.

Week 2 - HOPE Came Down at Christmas : Isaiah 9:1 -7

“Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the Gentiles, by the way of the sea, along the Jordan —
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned. You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as men rejoice when dividing the plunder.
For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor. Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this.”

Loving God, you know the anxiety of poverty,
the gnawing fear of the next bill,
how to feed the children, care for the sick.
You know the brokenness of dreams and ideals,
and the cynicism that hardens hearts
and crushes community.
You know too the foolishness of faith in wealth
and the mystery of great generosity in times of crisis.

This Advent season, we look to you, God,
Father of Jesus, our humble and joyful Lord,
who laughed and cried,
lived abundantly and died terribly
to be with us in every season of life and death.

We look to you, because you have been there;
be our Counsellor, our wise guide through these dark days;
fill us with the hope of those who know their Saviour is coming,
fill us with the love of those who know ourselves deeply loved
fill us with the songs of those who know our struggles are not eternal.

Give us hope in you so that we may be generous and not hoard,
fill us with confidence in your goodness
and gratitude for your faithfulness,
so that our children may live lives of hope.
Shine in us as light in the darkness,
a testimony to the end of war,
an alternative to violence,
and abundance instead of poverty and injustice.

May your kingdom come, and your will be done on earth...
Amen

The prayer was written in Geneva, while discussing Mission, Justice and Partnership between churches in the strategic planning for World Communion of Reformed Churches. I was thinking of the implications of the economic difficulties facing the Republic of Ireland and beyond. The Bible text was the one I was given, when Margaret Clarke asked me to write the prayer.

The full set of prayers written for Advent is on http://www.transformations-ireland.org/

Ups and Downs

2010-08-28T21:41:00.004+01:00

Walls Investments
Jericho. Jerusalem.
Berlin. Belfast.

Your investment
may go down as well as up.

The First Blackberry

2010-08-21T21:19:00.002+01:00

I started with the dandelions,
the various rampant weeds huddling around the front door
as if they couldn't wait to enter
the empty house.
Trimming, pulling, uprooting
I wreaked order on the encroaching wildness of things.

Inside cobwebs sought to restrain me, restrict my entry
but I pushed through
door after door, room after room
reclaiming my old home, its ownership,
from its new arachnid inhabitants

The enclosed suburban garden silently flourishing
since my absence, convolvulus in spindly seven league boots
invades the jasmine
and I - now I am here - tear it out.
Untangling, painstaking, shearing as necessary
to assert my hope of life and love growing here again.

The hedge has gained feet of thickness,
reaching out for its old comfortable chaos
but the shears are in my hands,
the grass collects the leafy twigs in loose piles
till they too are consigned to that plastic brownness on wheels.

But the blackberries, shining there in sunlight, promising fruit for days to come,
for these, I hesitate.
And there are apples on the lawn. I look up.
The tree, baubled like a Christmas fir,
holds out one branch at hand-height,
offers me a single share of its wealth.

In this old, hard-won garden,
unrequested, quite in grace,
the fruits of summer,
hope of warm puddings for colder, harder days.

I gather the blackberries,
rinse,
consider storing them,
then eat
One.
Sweet
refreshing
moment of eternity
present gift.

Tomorrow, I will gather for the winter.
These firstfruits we must celebrate today.

Blair's Bloody conscience? A hill of beans?

2010-08-18T21:14:00.004+01:00

The story that emerged yesterday, that Tony Blair is planning to donate a substantial amount of revenue from his forthcoming publication of memoirs to a rehabitation unit for injured soldiers is a mediatic delight. It's poetic. It's political. It generates conversation, discussion and even motivates me to write a blog post!

I'm fascinated with the instinct - in myself and other observers - to judge Blair, to call it blood money for his guilty conscience, to assume that he's trying to buy himself a better place in history. Well, he may be... and it may be the job of commentators to comment. And comment sells better if it's outspoken, i suppose...

For my part, I want to try to remember that Blair stepped up to the plate, took difficult decisions that someone had to take, and lives with the consequences, if not now, then this is what eternal judgment is for. Whether he turns out to be only a cold and calculating media manipulator, or in fact a human being who was trying to make the world a better place, and who is now trying to make peace with his conscience, let's have mercy on our own souls, by choosing to withhold judgment of others... I'm told by a reliable source (that'd be Jesus...Matthew 7v1) that we will be judged by the same measures we use for judging others.

At certain levels of public life, (and if we're honest, in almost anything we do!) it's hard for motives to ever be totally pure. God alone knows the heart.

But Tony, if you're reading this, there's other important stuff in Matthew. Chapter 6v1 would be a start. "Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
On the other hand, if you don't care about what the rest of us think, then your £4m is still money well spent! You could do worse than give the rest of it away too. There's a great social welfare system in this country, if ever you find you don't have enough to live on...
Who needs millions anyway? Pakistan, perhaps? Africa... Afghanistan... if you could get it to them. (Check out http://www.threecupsoftea.com/ ) I was just tonight reading about a mother of three who couldn't scrape together the 5p a week needed to access a micro-lending scheme in Ethiopia. Tony, if you want to make the world a better place, you have been given the means to do it.

World Communion of Reformed Churches

2010-08-18T20:41:00.004+01:00

In June, I went to Calvin College, Michigan to witness a birth. On 18th June. REC and WARC united to become WCRC... You can read the official story at http://www.reformedchurches.org/

For me, it's the start of a new element in my life - connecting the Presbyterian Church in Ireland more intimately with the other member churches of this new communion - at least for the duration of my service as one of the four European members of the WCRC executive committee.

What difference would it make to us, to be more consciously connected with other churches flowing from the Reformation? As Ireland becomes more international, might it be a key time for us to relate to churches and cultures that expand our imaginations to assist us in connecting with the new Irish on our doorsteps?

Meanwhile, our local "government" has at last seen fit to produce it's paper on "Cohesion, Sharing and Integration" - which should have appeared at least two years ago. Glad it's here... and hope they mean it! Sadly, I'd have been more inclined to be convinced if it had appeared back then. Still, let's work with what we've got , hey?

For today, I just want to pick up one little statistic in the document:

In 2009, respondents to the Life and Times survey were generally supportive of the rights of EU citizens to live and work here with 69% saying they were very or fairly welcoming of the idea.

Only 69%? Don't they realise this is the same mechanism that opens up the whole European landscape for them too? I guess one third of our population can't imagine ever wanting to live anywhere else than here... What can we do to encourage a more outward view?

I've got so much learning and growing to do myself, it's hard to see how to share what I'm experiencing. Can one person making occasional trips to committee meetings make any difference to a culture of fear of difference, and glorious isolation? God alone knows...

Chaplaincy through the eyes of Chris Bennett

2010-05-11T17:38:00.003+01:00

Chris Bennett is "chaplain" to Titanic Quarter in Belfast... and free to imagine and engage with fresh expressions of Christian ministry, mission and church. He's developing a vision for "The Dock Church".

Here's what he came up with after his visit to 5F01. You'll see a glimpse of our own work at the chaplaincy at University of Ulster at Jordanstown.

Three Cups of Tea

2010-01-09T21:22:00.002Z

The most inspiring book I've read in a very long time, Greg Mortenson's story is of the mysterious love a human being can have for strangers, and that understated love's capacity to inspire them to do the impossible. Greg has nothing... except a United States citizenship and a heart that carries his childhood of loving, inspiring strength.

To take on the building of one school, without any personal or institutional resources, in remote Karakoram mountains below K2 seems idealistic madness... To achieve it, and the many, many schools for boys and especially for girls, in this region, is the stuff of miracles.

Well worth the read, it has opened my heart and eyes and imagination to Pakistan, and also to Afghanistan - though I gather I now need to read the sequel, Stones into Schools, for more on the ongoing Afghan story. It's pre-ordered...

I work in education; I believe in its importance for opening minds and hearts to others, to possibilities that may be creative rather than destructive. Education without love can create monsters... And so I wonder how to encourage "my" students and staff to appreciate what an opportunity they have here, and also what challenges may face them if they are willing to share those opportunities with people of different backgrounds and cultures. Greg's respect and love for his country's perceived enemies has won hearts and is transforming lives, communities, and perhaps the face of future conflicts.

I'm touched by his humble simplicity - this is no hagiography. The account of his life and work is full of his mistakes, ignorance and naivete, not to mention the sacrifices made by his wife and children - and yet, and yet... it is this very honest humility which inspires us. If he can make such a big difference, with so little resource or proper organisation (at least at the outset!) what couldn't the rest of us do if we put our minds to it!?

Well-written, intriguing insights into a part of the world hitherto known to me only in two dimensions, I want everyone to read this and be genuinely inspired to make the world a better place.

Beauty and Danger

2010-01-06T22:35:00.002Z

This morning I wrote on Facebook: "it's snowing... again! (beauty and danger) -not so good if you're queuing for an op. UDA are supposed to have decommissioned (worth waiting for? I hope so!). I wonder what mixture of beauty and trouble lies ahead... "

At 6pm, I heard another dangerous and strangely beautiful thing. Deeply saddening, and at the same time humanising, Peter Robinson barely held his composure whilst telling us of the crisis in his marriage and Iris' affair and suicide attempt. I've never met either Peter or Iris, but I have often disagreed with what I saw of them in the media. I have judged them for their apparent judgmentalism, and what has appeared to me their ungracious engagement with political opponents. Most recently I was angry with the First Minister for failing to show the minimum grace to the Catholic population and some normal humanity by issuing a statement on the passing of Cardinal Daly.

My heart was transformed by seeing him as a weak, pained, human being. How danger and fragility brings about beauty!

It was a beautiful thing, to hear him speak of his journey from wanting to ditch Iris, to realising he loves her, appreciates what it has cost her to be married to him, and wants to save their marriage work.

But the danger note was struck again when I heard him say, "I have done nothing wrong." I think he meant in terms of his role as First Minister, but it had broken the spell. For a second, I had thought he was saying, "I'm the victim here!"

So many righteous people think we have been injured and wronged (and so we have) but we fail to see how our way of being, our words, our rightness, have quietly crushed our neighbours, denied them access to our God, left them feeling that they could never be good enough... and how our failure to walk in others' shoes has led us to effectively exclude them from things that might have enabled them to live peaceably as our neighbours, even embrace us as brothers.

God, forgive me for judging the Robinsons, as if I knew what it was to be them. Teach me to let you be judge, while I learn to love as graciously as Jesus. Surround them with wise advisors and loving friends, and above all, let them find that their one real strength is in this: that you loved instead of judging, that you chose to die rather than punish... and so may the future of our land be found in the story of grace. As you give our First minister courage to forgive and rebuild, let us all be empowered to build a seriously better future. And let the powers that would drag us backwards to competing with each other instead find that the only real victory is in listening, giving, forgiving and sharing.

How far have we come?

2010-01-04T22:33:00.003Z

Found this tonight, remembered, and wondered.... how long will it be before we're back there again? Please, God, make it a long, long time...

Thankful for Cara Dillon's soul... and the many like her who draw us towards a new future. Pity our "leaders" seem to be having such a rough time leading as statesmen, putting the good of the whole population ahead of the short-termism of perceived party priorities... Short term, because ultimately it is not in the interests of the parties - or at least, of the people who vote for them - to be stuck in the polarised hatreds and fears that enslaved us.

Please... please give us leaders who can see the bigger picture, statesmen and women who can rise above the next election and inspire another generation to integrity, generosity and courage.

Too much information - You have been warned

2009-08-13T10:17:00.006+01:00

The One Thing I hated about France...

I lived there for five years, but never went to the swimming pool. Well I did go there twice, but was refused entry. Why? Because I wanted to wear cycling shorts (clean, bought for the purpose of swimming only) rather than the glorified underwear that passes for swimwear. I even offered to buy another clean, brand new pair, and leave it at the swimming pool, so they would know it was only used there, but of course, that wouldn't be practical, if everyone did it... so they wouldn't let me.

In a hot climate, it's understandable that they didn't want people wearing the same shorts in the pool that they had worn all day. Maybe they didn't want the homeless using the pool as a bathroom. (Another argument for another day, I think.) But the rule they apply is far too general and officiously applied, and results in cases like this. It was only a matter of time before an Islamic woman would demand her right to use public amenities wearing a swimsuit that would allow her privacy and personal integrity in line with her religious beliefs.

In a country where identity is so closely linked with sexual identity, it is not surprising that Sarkozy believes that to hide women behind veils is a denial of their individuality. "In a major policy speech that month, President Nicolas Sarkozy said the burka - a garment covering women from head to toe - reduced them to servitude and undermined their dignity.
"We cannot accept to have in our country women who are prisoners behind netting, cut off from all social life, deprived of identity," Mr Sarkozy told a special session of parliament in Versailles.

Certainly, a burka may be imposed by others, but imposed nakedness is not the solution! Surely if we want women to be included in social life, it would be really good for them to be able to make use of public amenities like swimming pools, (especially as a way to mix with other mothers with small children) without having to deny their personal modesty or their religious beliefs!

That will take a long time to change... In the meantime, may we not choose to keep private any parts of our bodies which we choose to reserve for intimate relationships? The French rule is enforced nakedness - in my view, a breach of human dignity and social exclusion on the basis of religion, ethnicity and hirsuteness!

Since I came back from France, I've been wearing an adult-sized sunsuit to the pool, usually over the top of an ordinary swimsuit. For sure, people still stare, but they are staring at the tellytubby suit, not me. I choose when I want to be different, where I want to draw the line between fitting in and challenging cultural expectations. I choose when I want to look sexy and when I want to be relaxed and comfortable. Isn't that the Freedom the French should be offering to the world?Liberty, Egality, Fraternity ... Hmm.

P.S. There is a real fear of Islam in France. I have a hunch that the fear of the Burka is a symbolic one, because it is so visible. Many French women will find freedom in the modesty and respect of Islamic practice; if Sarkozy hopes to minimise the influence of Islam in France, attacking some of Islam's more liberating qualities will not be the way to go about it. Making sure that Women get every opportunity to be included in and participate in society, and rise to the top as Muslims, and raise their children as successful and responsible citizens, will be one way of ensuring that the Islam that prevails for future generations in the West is benign, rather than hostile.

P.P.S. Alan in Belfast sent me this, which serves to remind me that men, as well as women, may be uncomfortable with enforced near-nudity.

Mental Health ward suicides

2009-07-20T20:09:00.004+01:00

Wondering... are there chaplains appointed to work within mental health care institutions?
Ekklesia's daily bulletin is one of those emails I don't usually manage to read, but today I did. And found there something I didn't hear mentioned on any of the national radio news bulletins so full of swine flu and the death of someone or other (though I now see the Daily Mirror had it in all of three sentences!) - The final report of the Mental Health Act Commission (which is now replaced by the Care Quality Commission) says that 39& of deaths on wards by hanging or self-strangulation between 2001 and 2008 happened when the patient was subject to observation by staff at 15-minute intervals or less, including some under continuous observation. In the case of one suicide, there was evidence to suggest the patient was not checked for three hours, despite being subject to 15 minute observations. Six patients who died of hanging or self-strangulation since 2005 were supposedly under continuous observation.

I can't imagine what it must be like to have as one's job the constant observation of someone unhappy, but of a number of deeply distressed and suicidal people... The stress of prison staff and of staff in mental health wards, of having a constant presence of negativity, of self-destructive (and other-destructive) minds and behaviour must be either hellish or numbing.

Add to that short-staffing and the possibility of many other things to do, and the sense of pointlessness - I can imagine thinking, "She was fine every time I checked her all of the last three weeks... She'll be fine."

Over time, I can imagine the frustration too, of trying to protect miserable people from "putting themselves out of their misery". Some people's lives may just seem too painful, too hard to fix, too difficult to re-envision with purpose and joy. If I didn't have faith in a Lord who does transform the hopeless, (albeit not in the way or the timescales I would like to dictate) I can see how easily I would lose a sense of purpose in such a role.

I'm inspired to pray more for the people who endure the violence and negative atmosphere of difficult places and people. And I'm wondering how many of my sermons or services and prayers would ever have encouraged or empowered my congregation to go into these dark places to love the most hopelessly lost.

I was a stranger, and....

2009-06-21T22:52:00.005+01:00

Just home from an evening at Fitzroy Presbyterian Church in South Belfast, where South Belfast Presbytery had arranged an evening's worship, reflection and solidarity on the theme of "I was a stranger and......." It was a response to the recent violence against local immigrant citizens, and a way to call us all to do whatever we can to change the tide, and save "the soul of Ulster", by speaking up for outsiders, and making them welcome among us. The service used Old and New Testament scripture to remind us that we too were once foreigners, our ancestors once needed hospitality... and that Jesus tests the seriousness of our commitment to him by how we respond to those around us who are in need. "I was a stranger, and...." what comes next is the blank that we must fill in.

I'm a foreigner myself - always have been, always will be - though I was born here! Personally, I'm passionate about how we welcome international students, many of whom arrive in August to improve their English before they can pursue other courses. It's a tough transition...

So I'd love to hear from folk who are interested in befriending an international student or two, showing them around, feeding them, introducing them to our family life, sports, music and culture.

Inspired by Stafford

2009-04-17T22:34:00.002+01:00

Yes, I am suitably impressed with our incoming moderator's blog, and it has inspired me more than all the guilt-trips and good topics available, to take up the quill again. The intervening months have spanned Christmas through to Lent and Easter, and I've had plenty to keep me busy. Three family bereavements (one grandmother, two aunts) have caused some adjustments in mindset, I suspect. And a busier than planned preaching schedule.

And then of course, there's the Water exhibition... but for that, I'll write a fresh post.

What I've been learning through organising the Water Exhibition though, relates to Stafford's post on seeker-sensitivity in planning worship. He rightly balances the need for our worship to be intelligible and accessible by outsiders, with the focus of our worship being what pleases God. (That begs the question, of course, can God be pleased with worship that, by its complexity, wordiness, dourness, triviality, excludes the broken, the simple, the outsiders whom Jesus longs to include?)

The exhibition came out of a discussion with Tearfund's Louise & Miriam on how to engage students in a social justice group. My feeling was that you can't engage students in groups any more - not at the newer universities anyway... So we decided to offer them the chance to participate in a public exhibition, using Tearfund's theme for the year: Water and Sanitation. Well, I wimped out of the sanitation part in the title - the word's too Latin, too...sanitised, and not very arty! (And let's be honest, I didn't want a hundred versions of great white thrones, porcelain telephones etc. Not for my first attempt at such a venture anyway!)

What I've realised is that there are lots of folk out there who might be interested in what Jesus has to say, and the values his kingdom offers. What they aren't interested in is pre-packaged theology that gives them answers to questions they haven't asked yet. So lots of students (and staff and alumni) were willing to donate time and energy and pieces of work for the exhibition, raising money for a development charity that is primarily Christian, not because they want to support the spread of a theological package, but because they value human life and the quality of life of our neighbours in developing countries. OK some also submitted work because it's good experience and publicity for them as artists. But they were willing to let themselves be associated with a Christian charity.

The opportunity to get to know some students and staff through this process is in itself a journey for me. And a privilege, offering to others the chance to opt in to some of Christ's values - to care for the people Christ cares for... It may not be the whole Gospel, but it contributes to the possibility of belonging, - and important relational help to those who are willing to believe in the One who says Blessed are the poor...

And the Cross? We'll get there eventually. But not too quickly. Even Jesus' closest friends ran away... just a few dear women and John seem to be there at the end. Which of us dares explain away this mystery in theological arithmetic, until our feet have bled with him on that road to blessing the poor and forgiving our enemies?

Christmas Reflections

2008-12-27T23:12:00.002Z

Main themes of Christmas for me this year: shepherds - smelly, unpopular, left to do the job no one else wants (which is why the boy David was a shepherd boy - he had plenty of elder brothers who left him to it! - and was called in from tending the sheep, to be anointed as the next king by prophet Samuel)... so Luke tells us that messengers of God appeared to tell shepherds that their king had been born. The last shall be first...

Refugees - it hit me again how Jesus & his parents fled the massacre planned and implemented by Herod the Great (or should that be the Terrible) and lived as landless foreigners in Egypt - which was probably no more fun for them that current asylum seeking is for our generation

Gift wrapping. What?! Yes, packaging. We throw it away, the wrapping paper. When I was a child we even managed to burn some of the money that had been sent as gifts, that had got mixed up with the paper. Made a lovely warm glow for a few seconds... If Jesus was God's gift, he got screwed up and throw away too - because we despise humans, made in God's image. We throw away the image of God in the people around us, treat them as replaceable, cheap and disposable. And what we do to each other, we do to him.

Glimmers in the West

2008-12-27T22:55:00.003Z

Wise men from the east may have perceived and followed a star... Today I read that one from the West is beginning to see the light!!! Well, it's not conversion as many of my colleagues would perceive it, but it's a conversion of mind that could lead all sorts of places.

What comes to mind is the bald statement I made to a Muslim friend the other day "You don't have to believe Jesus is the Son of God in order to follow him; but you have to know that if you follow him it may well lead you to that conviction."

A surprised friend said, "Do you really believe that?" And it is his troubled questioning that has haunted me these last days - that perhaps I might be seen as a heretic for insisting that since God came in Jesus, we should encourage people to meet Jesus as a man, and allow his God-ness to seep through, rather than insisting that they believe impossible abstract theological propositions about him before they have got inside his heart and mind.

Anyway, thanks to John for putting me onto this: Well worth a read. Atheist Matthew Parris shares his reflections on the profound difference that a Christian worldview makes in African culture. I'd be interested to hear some reactions.

A beginning and an End

2008-12-05T22:17:00.004Z

Advent arrived
while I was away
Good News
rolled in like waves over long dry land:
a new job
a sister's visit
a gift of cash
a sleeping grandson
a free ticket to the ballet
-a magical night at the ballet.
Before each could recede
the next advanced the tide
and the long season of death
seems dying.

Keep coming
washing
lifting
till the threshing of the dark dragon's
future-free form
subsides
beneath the tide.

Happiness is Contagious

2008-12-05T21:46:00.003Z

We knew this, didn't we? Still, it's good to know that the scientists have established it. Happy people make the people around them happier. So it's socially responsible to be as happy as we can then. No more moaning about Pollyanna. She increases our own prospects of happiness far more than we contribute by our scepticism and self-styled realism.

Happy Advent, one and all (though apparently the contagious effect only works with people who live really close by, so forget those cheery cyber-friends, and spend some time with some real happy people nearby!)

Best Interest

2008-11-25T07:09:00.007Z

Once upon a time, far, far away, there was a small community who decided to put the wealth of some to the service of those who needed it. Those who had cash invested it in the community, and received interest, while those who needed cash could borrow from the pot, for a manageable rate of interest, and thereby keep loan sharks (and piggy banks?) at bay. As the size of the pot increased, relative to the number of loans being requested, the excess cash was used to purchase property that would give rental income, thus helping to keep the borrowers' interest rates down.

Time went on, and times got hard. But the community's pot of money was not invested in crumbling banks - the people were invested in each other. So although the government guaranteed the banks, the community clung together. Those who were in difficulty could still borrow from those who had chosen to invest in the community rather than the iffier stockmarket and banks.

Then one day, Someone realised that there would be a cost to staying invested in the community. The economic hard times would mean that the investment properties would fall in value, and rental income would fall; as recession deepened, some borrowers would be unable to pay their loans, and the interest made on investments would fall. Someone decided to withdraw their substantial sums of cash from the community and invest it in the banks, guaranteed by the government.

Did Someone know something that everyone else didn't know? Or was Someone just smarter than the rest of the community? Somehow, more and more investors realised that they were financially safer with the banks than with the community. One by one, they took themselves and their money off to a new home, leaving behind them a community increasingly bewildered, beleaguered and short of the means to meet the challenges of the times.

Am I alone in seeing the current difficulties with the Presbyterian Mutual Society as parallel to the Presbyterian exodus from inner Belfast? Those who could leave did. And felt justified in so doing. They were acting in the "best interests" of their family, those to whom they had the most pressing relationship. And in so doing, abandoned their former community to a shortage of capacity for investment and community.

And so, the principle of community and mutuality was lost; the poverty and hurt of those left behind contributed to the instability and violence of a society which damaged all of society for generations to come.

The best interest of those who can choose it is not always in the best interest of their children's generation.

The answers are at the back of the book

2008-11-14T09:57:00.003Z

Today's Gem: (I found this excerpt in the Northumbria Community's Celtic Daily Prayer )

To a visitor who claimed he had no need to search for Truth because he found it in the beliefs of his religion, the Abba said:

"There was once a student who never became a mathematician because he blindly believed the answers in the back of his maths book - and, ironically, the answers were correct."

- Anthony de Mello, One Minute Wisdom

What not to wear...

2008-11-12T22:09:00.003Z

Trinny and Suzannah, come back, all is forgiven... well, maybe not all... but if we're going to have thought police and style police, at least let someone be getting the good of a few new clothes. I'm conscious that in some minds, the wearing of a red poppy is a sign of conforming to the world as it should be. To others, it is a sign of having bought the lies of the Empire/upper classes/government propaganda...

It ought to be something people do (or don't do) freely, without judging others who do or don't choose to do the same. Yet certain newsreaders aren't scheduled to read the news at this time fo year because it is known they won't wear a poppy. And individuals are put under pressure to wear/not wear one, and potentially risk their job or a bloody nose.

I'm no great fan of some of the thoughtlessness attached to wearing poppies for Armistice Day. I want to ask, "Are you remembering the others who lost their lives too?"
"Are you assuming that the war is just, because it's "our" soldiers fighting?"
"Can we support and remember the soldiers who died and their families, and those who carry their mental and physical scars, whilst acknowledging that others give their lives in what they believe to be their duty?"
In Northern Ireland, particularly, can we learn to remember the cost of war, without pretending that all the wrongs were on the "other side"?

This is about remembering the past, and living with diversity in the present. It is also about dealing with grief and loss. We have to find ways to make room for each other to experience the death and deadliness of war for ourselves; and to protect each other's space to express it as we feel it for now, whilst being committed to hearing and learning from each other.

Our remembering touches who we are at its most vulnerable, and hence most volatile. The Eames-Bradley report into the dirty war of my generation is still to come, and these questions will be all the more relevant in the wake of it. Combine that, the credit crunch and the (actual, if not technical) insolvency of the Presbyterian Mutual Society, to make for a jolly dark 2009.

White Poppies

2008-11-11T10:30:00.006Z

I have no idea where the idea came from this year... I had seen a white poppy once, in the eighties, when I was at school, and heard of its being controversial. But it's not the controversy that attracted me. Rather the offering of alternative ways of living - ways which are peaceloving and acknowledge the messiness of war, the impossibility that the right be all on one side.

Chatting to Hubby last week, I mentioned I would like to wear a white poppy alongside a red one this year - but I didn't know where to get white poppies. He gave me one of those "she's off on one again" looks of incredulity.

I knew little of the political background, but felt I wanted to show an alternative to blind acceptance of the militarism that often dominates the right remembering of the war dead.

So I settle down to catch up on my blog-reading, and discover that both crookedshore and virtual methodist are on the same theme this year.

Telepathy?

Very odd... and to find myself in such auspicious (suspicious?) company!

2008-11-05T21:38:00.002Z

OK. Tonight I'm cheating. This came as spam... or rather, as quality meat disguised as spam! I didn't write it and I don't know its origins, but it does speak something beautiful into my life... Plagiarism? Well, may you enjoy the love...

A son asked his father, 'Dad, will you take part in a marathon with me?'

The father, despite having a heart condition, says 'Yes'.

They went on to complete the marathon together.

Father and son went on to join other marathons, the father always saying Yes' to his son's request of going through the race together.

One day, the son asked his father, 'Dad, let's join the Ironman together.'

To which, his father said 'Yes' too.

For those who didn't know, Ironman is the toughest triathlon ever.

The race encompasses three endurance events of a 2.4 mile (3.86 kilometer) ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile (180.2 kilometer) bike ride, and ending with a 26.2 mile (42.195 kilometer) marathon along the coast of the Big Island

Father and son went on to complete the race together.

Turn on the sound, and watch ...

Strange goings-on Down Under...

2008-10-23T22:39:00.003+01:00

New Zealand elections are afoot. But some of the writing seems to have bottomed out to the level of toilet humour.

"Both Labour and National face a potential headache over the Maori Party making entrenchment of the Maori seats a bottom line in any support deal - but National's opposition to the Maori seats puts it in a trickier position.
...
It got offside with the Maori Party this week over comments by its immigration spokesman Lockwood Smith, about Pacific and Asian seasonal workers - ... Mr Key said he was "frustrated" by Dr Smith's comments, which included references to Pacific workers needing to be taught to use a toilet.

Mr Key said yesterday he did not want to pre-judge negotiations with the Maori Party, but suggested bottom lines would be a factor only in a formal coalition."

I ask you...

We haven't gone away you know...

2008-10-16T18:37:00.003+01:00

Turns out the Church is still alive and kicking.

The Presbyterian Church in Ireland spoke out strongly today to encourage local NI politicians to get their act together and make the executive work. And it even showed signs of having thought through the implications of dealing with the past and these infernal inquiries that loom ahead. I had heard some discussion that indicated Westminster should bear the full cost of these... but to do so would only strengthen the political incentive for them to proliferate. If the NI government has to bear the cost, perhaps pressure can be brought to bear to restrain these claims, in order to have some cash left to make the place work - by spending money on education, health, water, sewage, roads, for example. Maybe even on a devolved and cross-community police and justice system that actually works.

It's a gamble, but it's in our interest - ALL of us - to make it work... isn't it? Having just read Malachi O'Doherty's The Telling Year, Belfast 1972, I'm absolutely sure we don't want to go back to the kind of fireworks that spooked my whole childhood here.

It's haunting enough just reading it now. For Littlun's sake, let's not go back there.

Credit Crunch - Curse or Blessing?

2008-10-15T22:32:00.002+01:00

What a woman! Elaine Storkey was speaking in Belfast last night. Intelligent, articulate, thoughtful, humorous, and profoundly challenging, she managed to deliver one hour's worth of the Annual Catherwood Lecture on the current crisis, its background, some of its likely outcomes, and biblical alternative goals which might set us free from the tyranny of economic growth (obesity) and slavery to credit (debt).

The Centre for Contemporary Christianity in Ireland will produce this lecture as a Patmos paper - the Catherwood series on faith in the public square have been made available in this written form in the past.

2008-09-18T15:22:00.002+01:00

Oh, how I wished I'd had my camera in Belfast today. There was music, and a crowd gathered round a poster on the ground, which announced "Free game of chass against Jamaica's Number 1" Meanwhile, with red-haired woman and a black person played furious chess at breakneck speed. I couldn't stay to watch but if anyone saw it, can you tell me who won?

You put your left leg in...

2008-08-29T14:26:00.003+01:00

Patsy McGarry, thank you! The sectarianism of our society would be laughable if it wasn't so bitter. I would have liked to hear more of the detail behind this story: that a Donegal Atheist has had to be buried outside Donegal - in Derry City Council cemetery - because Donegal graveyards require a religious ceremony (possibly because Churches own and maintain the ground). I'm sad that Christians can't find room for atheists - even dead ones - in their churches.

But I did laugh when I read that the cemeteries department employee, when asked whether the deceased in question had been interred in a new Atheist section of the cemetery, they replied "No, we're putting her in with the Protestants." That doesn't sound like the way a Protestant would express it. I guess that's appropriate enough. Atheism is a form of Protest, after all.

It all ties in with the frustration my NZ friend is having, filling in job application forms, and having to designate herself as Protestant or Catholic etc for the Equal Employment Opportunities Monitoring Form. I know it's meant to protect against discrimination. However, there are times when the requirement to choose between apparently mutually exclusive options just doesn't represent reality

or sanity.

A song for Nireland

2008-08-28T18:13:00.003+01:00

A New Northern Ireland anthem. Congratulations to Monty on his valiant attempt to provide local soccer fans with something worth singing.

Now, we need some big celebratory events to make it part of our shared culture. That shouldn't be too hard, should it? I wonder...

What's the Password?

2008-08-28T11:43:00.003+01:00

This really made me laugh, so I have to share it.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/shropshire/7585098.stm

But I won't be opening any accounts with Lloyds TSB... would you?

Olympic medals tables with a difference

2008-08-25T08:07:00.003+01:00

It has taken the US to be knocked off the top spot, for someone to finally publish Olympic medals tables that reflect a more diverse set of criteria than the number of golds won. Medals per head of population; medals in relation to GDP... it certainly changes the way you look at the world. Have a look and ask if you know where all these places are, and what they won. It might change the perception of who the real heroes are.

Then I wonder what happens the majority of the populations of these countries who have no access to sports facilities, and what it has taken for the elite few to make it to the Games.

Does the success of a few at very high levels inspire investment and a generation of younger sports fans to train themselves for success? If so, does that stimulate a more disciplined, hard-working economy and a lifestyle that fosters stability, providing security for young and old? I'd like to believe so. Not a panacea by any means, and not the whole story. But sport is a hang sight better than prostitution and wage slavery, for those who can get into it.

So much for a quiet, lazy summer!

2008-08-11T21:55:00.002+01:00

The last fortnight has been full of faces. 80 new international students here to improve their English in advance of their courses starting in September, converge on a quiet campus well outside the city. They have so much to adapt to. The language, our accents, the lie of the land, the food, and of course, the weather. Lots of it. Does nobody tell them to buy a Gore-Tex before they come here? And a fleece? Apparently not. But they do have umbrellas. Just as well.

It's a privilege to be here to welcome them, to try to be a friendly face, to offer a bit of fun, and link them to some locals, so they can practice their English. Whiteabbey Presbyterian Church has been really hospitable, welcoming, and delighted to receive forty of them last Thursday night for table tennis, pool, Jenga... green tea ... and it seems they particularly enjoyed the apples!

I had lunch today with the three girls from Taiwan and Carlo, an Italian. Really chilled. Not too much conversation, but plenty of fun with the Jenga. I hope we can do this regularly!

I'm back!

2008-07-22T12:37:00.002+01:00

These long light evenings are wonderful... That's why Littlun hasn't been settling to sleep. Sneaking out of bed to look out the window, to tell stories to her toys, to make a nest on the floor. Ten thirty every evening, the first sound of silence... It doesn't leave a mummy with much free time for blogging. Worse than that, I've foolishly tried several methods to engineer an earlier dose-off, entirely without success. The books, bless them, provide entertaining reading, but I think Littlun must have got there first. Always several steps ahead...

Psalm 127 comes as relief to me today. She's a gift, this child, and the songwriter grants me hope, rest. The sense that if God is building a House, and our children (all children, of every age) are God's gift, I needn't stress to fix, change or manipulate them into good behaviour.

So today I will celebrate the people around me, receive them as God's gift, and be as merciful and gracious to them as I would hope they could be to me.

And I'll stop worrying about how I'm going to marry work and the school run. Today I'm going to live by priorities of peace and grace, justice rather than religious idealism, and perhaps I'll find God leading me through the multiple choices one at a time.

No idea whether that will lead to more or less posts. Time will tell.

A drop of the hard stuff

2008-06-08T22:21:00.002+01:00

Hard stuff - courage, that is.
Surfing for other information, I came across the Sunday homily from Clonard Monastery today. And courage is what I thought of.

Like the courage I thought of when I heard on Radio Ulster this week a young man, Stephen Scott, tell his story of being set upon and left for dead by three "men" because of his being gay. He told how he had been bullied at school, how he had felt suicidal, how he would have stopped being gay if he could... and how he wouldn't have minded a one-to-one fight... but he spoke of the injustice of being pulled to the ground by a gang of three. Cowardly injustice. Compare and contrast.

The homily today challenged us as Christians to follow Jesus in befriending the people that seem somehow to fall short of God's plans for them, to listen to them, to walk with them, and love them. It wasn't just a criticism of Iris Robinson's remarks on the Stephen Nolan Show. (There's plenty of that here.) It challenged the cultural expectation that "good" and "upright" citizens and leaders feel the need to distance themselves, to identify gay sex as "an abomination" as the hypocritical self-righteousness that it usually is.

Jesus used to get criticised for the low company he kept. But these days his followers seem to have got over that criticism. Protestants and Catholics alike (and other religions too) - and perhaps the most religiously commited most of all, are prone to the deadly and contagious virus of judgmentalism. It seems to me the only courageous way forward is to love unconditionally, and trust the Holy Spirit to sort out whatever is on God's agenda and priorities, in God's own time. Whatever it says of my orthodoxy or otherwise, trusting God to do the judging is the test of whether we believe Jesus or not.

Justice Woman

2008-06-03T21:37:00.003+01:00

Maybe I should abandon the Spiderwoman ideas. Ciara McVeigh, age 10, St Joseph's Catholic Primary, Brighouse, has a much better idea!Indeed. And so...
A reflection on Psalm 85:
I am Justice
I contribute to wholeness
by valuing all people rightly
(For this I need my brother Mercy)
by acknowledging the guilt, pain & wrongdoing
of all
(For this I need my sister Truth)
by establishing new, generous relationships
(For this, I need my partner, Peace)
I am Justice
Without Mercy I become Revenge
Without Truth I become Oppression
Without Peace I drown in demand

Armagh, 26th April 2008

In the pink...

2008-06-02T23:32:00.004+01:00

It's been some time... but I haven't fallen off the face of the planet, or even down the side of the Europa Hotel... well, I did do that, but I had two ropes to stop me turning into mush at the bottom! The worst moment was right there, between the E and the U of Europa, between the roof and the drop. The "Does-my-bum-look-big-in-this-well-good-cos-I-need-all-the-padding-I-can-get" moment. The "eu" of Greek words usually means "good". Strange how you can be in the middle of goodness, and totally focussed on something else, not feeling anything resembling good! [Note to self: cheesy sermon illustration.] I bet EuRopa means Good Rope in Greek. No? Would be poetic, but unlikely, don't you think? A glance at wikipedia suggests "wide-eyed" is the etymology. That works too.

Aargh, it's way past my bedtime. I'm just too busy living to have time to blog. I hardly have time to read my friends' blogs. But I do have time to climb Cave hill with a friend, to write a hasty sermon, to tell endless stories to my daughter...

When I've finished that, and the PCI General Assembly, and chairing my Board meeting, I'll get back to you! (eventually... someday...soonish, perhaps...)

What I WILL take time to say is Thanks. I've been amazed by the generosity of those of you who sponsored my abseil for Habitat for Humanity NI. Let's be honest. I never thought I'd get anywhere near the target of £1235; but already we're at £800.

Now I believe it really might be possible to aim for the "house" (i.e. the average cost to HFH of building a house for/with a poor family in the developing world.) Your generosity increases my faith. Question is, what should I do to raise the other £400? Suggestions anyone?

Taking the Plunge and Falling House Prices

2008-05-13T21:36:00.005+01:00

I hate fundraising. Hate asking for cash. Even in a good cause.
But I've agreed to step off the roof of Belfast's Europa Hotel in celebration of Habitat for Humanity, who bring communities together to build houses and communities where once people like us burned our/their neighbours out.

I know house prices here are falling, but have you heard this? The average cost of building a Habitat house in the developing world is... £1250. There must be quite a few people around here paying that monthly. The world is "ill-divid". I wonder how many folk spend that on a holiday... or one of several holidays...

The Europa was (for 25 years or so, according to urban legend in my youth) Belfast's most bombed hotel.
Now, it's probably one of the safest buildings in Europe. On the inside anyway. I'm counting on the abseiling instructors knowing their stuff to make my Spiderwoman descent a thing of beauty, and not in the way that strawberry jam can be beautiful. (No more bombing in Belfast, right?)

Oddly though, I know the hardest thing about this whole process is not stepping off a building, relying on a string or two. It's asking for people to give. But unless YOU want this blog to become a place for my psychotherapy, I think I'll ponder that one silently for a little longer. (Meanwhile, if you want to ease my angst, click on the widget over there... to the right, and make a donation to Habitat!)

Big Ian at the Boyne

2008-05-10T23:20:00.003+01:00

The times, they are a-changin'...

Ian Paisley's speech at the Boyne seems to be reproduced here, and makes interesting reading.

I also caught a snatch on Radio Ulster one morning this week of his speech with Martin McGuinness to American business delegates to NI. "Who would have thought..." was his refrain.
Indeed. The mystery remains.

But my guess is that despite his use of the word "miracle", this miracle is not entirely mysterious. There's plenty of human agency at work, sordid turf-wars and treachery within each "side", to the extent that the "war" was no longer sustainable or winnable. That's not to deny that these more positive days are not, possibly miraculous. If the prophet Isaiah could claim that the tyrant Cyrus the Great was to be God's servant, then why not Ian and Martin? Outrageous. Unacceptable. Unreasonable. Unthinkable. And yet, scriptures seem to insist that despite the religious authorities' objections, God persistently uses unlikely candidates to achieve preposterous salvations.

Streamvale Delights

2008-05-05T20:36:00.002+01:00

What a gorgeous day! And we really made the most of it, by heading up to Streamvale Open Farm this morning. Despite the sign which said it opened at 2pm (which is true for weekdays, but not weekends and Bank Holidays) things were really getting started at around 10.30 when we arrived. The regular animals were doing their thing. The cows were mooing like a philharmonic choir at the heifers who'd been popped into the next field. The poultry were cockadoodledooing with delight at the sunshine (or so I told myself), and happily swarmed round our feet to collect the grain Littlun dropped for them. It has to be said, for some of the toddlers, chickens and cockerels are just a bit too big - and those beaks a bit too pointy-looking - for comfort. The piglets have grown, but they are still tiny in comparison to their mum. Littlun LOVED holding the bottle to feed the wee black-faced lamb. And its wriggly waggly tail was a spectacle in itself. I still love the kids - but think it's a shame they have to grow up into goats!

Pony rides, tractor rides to feed the deer, and the new barrel-ride train-thingy all look fun... though ours is disappointingly unimpressed by such things just yet. Patience, patience.

Rabbits to feed with carrots, and baby rabbits to hold in baskets (Better-Half has some cute photos...) pander to the adults' maternal instincts, if not to my daughter's! She preferred the straw-bales and toy tractors... and not a pink one in sight. Hurray!

The climax is a simple lunch, a really good cuppa, and Streamvale's delicious homemade icecream. The chocolate-covered brownie served with ice-cream is a luxury only fully enjoyed if you know you're sharing it, and the calories. Really too good altogether!

Verdict: A really good day out. If you had been staying away because of recent media hype and paranoia, stay away no more!

[The place was only closed for two days, as a precautionary measure, and given the all-clear. If you're cautious, bring wipes and use the hand-washing and alcohol-dispensing facilities on site.]

Discrimination against Celibacy

2008-04-29T10:57:00.003+01:00

When Civil partnerships were introduced as an idea, I initially supported them, but by the time they came into law, I objected, not on the ground of the rights they gave to gay couples, but because friends and siblings who were long term cohabitees (though not bed-partners) were specifically excluded.

And here's the upshot. An elderly sister will be slapped with 40% inheritance tax on their shared property once her sister dies. And in order to pay, she'll have to sell the home they have shared all their lives. All this whilst coming to terms in her 80s or 90s, with the death of a lifelong friend, sister and live-in companion.

If this isn't discrimination against celibacy, I don't know what is.

Gospel

2008-04-15T22:39:00.002+01:00

On Sunday night I witnessed a single human being narrate and enact the whole of the Gospel of John. Word for word. Powerfully.

I could find out his name. (He was mentioned on Sunday Sequence, which is how I knew to go along to Bloomfield Presbyterian at 7pm. ) But I don't want to. I want to remember the Gospel he came to tell us. And the main thrust of Jesus' teaching which remains in my memory - the Single Command to love, to love one another, to serve each other and treat others as more important than oneself.

If I never learn another thing, I will have a lifetime's work learning to love.

Taizé prayer in Belfast

2008-04-15T22:14:00.003+01:00

Is there anyone you wouldn't pray with?

Living in sectarian Northern Ireland, and having beeen raised in the kind of Protestantism which balks at "worshipping with Catholics", I remain somewhat baffled. We worship every Sunday with people whose ideas are different from ours. We're even allowed to disagree with the minister or preacher, because, at least within Presbyterianism, there is a responsibility on everyone to "come to their own mind" on the meaning of Scripture. But I know that when I encourage folk to come to the Taizé prayer at St Anne's Cathedral on 26th April at 7pm, some will stay away, for fear that the presence of Roman Catholics will somehow make their own presence and prayer "idolatry".

Taizé prayer centres on scripture meditation, read, sung (repetitively, but not mindlessly) and pondered in silence. The Taizé community lives out, in its own idiosyncratic way, the church's vocation to be a community of reconciliation by the grace of Jesus Christ.

Can Presbyterians in Ireland ever embrace, or even dare to explore, this expression of spiritual unity and diversity? I hope so. Maybe it feels like parachuting in, Franklin-style, for the Taizé brothers to have organised this event, but it is one more opportunity -with a very different style- to move beyond factions toward the unity of the Church of Jesus.

After that, there's Transformations-ireland and the Global Day of Prayer on 11th May...

Personally, I find these big "events" can be a massive drain of energy - but they can also energise and invigorate - particularly if the organisers have kept the longer term objective of empowering the Church in view.

In between events, there's the rest of our lives, to be turned towards the character and love of Jesus; serving our fellow-creatures. Probably enough to be getting on with...

Hmm...Colin Murphy's Great Unanswered Questions

2008-04-06T18:56:00.002+01:00

It must be a sign of my growing apostasy, that instead of accompanying young people to Franklin Graham's parachuting Hope, I accepted tickets to the making of an episode of Colin Murphy's half-hour rip-off of QI. Let's be honest, it bought me a few hours shared experience next to my husband.

Murphy has charisma. Gives the sense that he'd be good company in the pub for an evening. And he's generous with his guests. Doesn't hog the microphone.

Probably not prime listening. But pleasantly light relief.

For myself, I'll stick to Radio 4's The Now Show for more topical comedy (when I can catch it, between feeding Littlun and her bathtime). A particularly beautiful piece was Marcus Brigstocke on the closing of Post Offices. "I rarely use Iraq, but that seems to be quite well-funded..."

The Truth Commissioner (2)

2008-04-06T15:58:00.003+01:00

David Park has excelled himself. When I saw him at his booklaunch, he was rather more Penfold-looking (remember DangerMouse?)than the shrewd prophet of hope amidst realpolitik, revealing the same kind of "everyone is just trying to do their best in a bad world" perceptions as in The Passion on BBC in the week before Easter.

I loved this book. Immediately started re-reading it when I'd finished. If I had more time, I'd want to write an essay on it, like the good old A levels! If I were a film-maker, I'd be working on this one. It's full of colour, and aspiring to white light so that even the flames of destruction hold warmth of hope and a new future.

For anyone thinking of dealing with the misdeeds of the past, - seeking revenge, atonement, forgiveness, cleansing - there is a hope of freedom, but you can only find it in the chaos.

That's the Easter story too. There's no redemption without the spilling of innocent blood.

Ordinary life takes over

2008-04-06T14:53:00.003+01:00

Riots in Tibet.

Elections fought & won (and lost) and results still not published in Zimbabwe. Bertie Ahern resigning. Tony Blair speaks about the possibilities for faith as a constructive rather than negative force in the Global Village. Franklin Graham preaching to thousands in the Odyssey Arena. Queen Elizabeth visits East Belfast. And I haven't blogged since before Easter.

You'd think I didn't care.

But while the world has been engaged in being the world, I've been getting on with it. Mopping up sick. training a toddler to use the toilet. Insisting on her trying a piece of potato before she can have any more cheese. Is my life embroiled in trivia? Or is it that these things are what give one more child a chance to be loved and loving, rather than inconsiderate and ungrateful? Is there any hope that her life may be more significantly peace-and-justice-building, less trivial, than mine?

Today, the Olympic Torch was carried and jostled through the streets of London, amidst a storm of debate over whether the Olympics, or at least symbolic representations of China's influence in the world, should be boycotted, in protest against China's human rights abuses. For my part, it was right for the procession to go ahead. Otherwise the protest would have had little opportunity for gaining public awareness. But the real hit is whether any of us is willing to boycott China's flooding of our markets with cheap goods. I can make a real, though insignificant protest alone, amidst the choices of a mother busy making daily purchases of unnecessary plastic objects. Is someone out there going to harness the willingness of all the people too busy surviving the daily grind, and make a coalition of rather more significant complaint against the dehumanisation of underpaid workers and violated dissidents?

Time to look at Amnesty again, methinks. To try the little I can do.

Which side is Jesus on?

2008-03-21T10:21:00.003Z

There may be two sides to every story, but there's nothing right about that club hanging over the woman's bare head. Which side of the shields does Jesus choose to stand?

Thanks to crookedshore for sharing this. As I'm reflecting on the Sufferings of Jesus on his way to the cross, here's the photo.

Of Holocausts and Crucifixion

2008-03-20T21:14:00.004Z

There hasn't been much time to reflect upon the sufferings of Jesus and the significance of his death and resurrection lately. But one thing that has struck me is a development of my Christmas revelation.

It occurred to me before Christmas that Jesus represents the inverse of the "gods" of this world. Those who can, use their powers to save themselves from pain, from suffering, from hard work. The powerful cushion themselves as far as possible by making others do the hard work on their behalf; by letting others suffer in their place.

And the Incarnation - the idea that God became human in Jesus - means that the God of the "New Testament" embraces a world of suffering, coming to serve rather than to make others serve. The crucifixion of Jesus brings this to its climax - or perhaps its nadir. The depth to which this God-Man will sink. Humiliation, nakedness, clubbed and torn open, dragged out to the city dump, Gehenna, the place of uncleanness of every sort. Treated as unworthy of any sort of dignity or even of life itself, God-in-Jesus not only identifies with, but joins the ranks of, the world's scum, those whose lives are not only of no value, but whose breath is considered an active waste of oxygen.

Earlier this month I visited the US Holocaust Memorial Museum. It was such a beautiful day, it seemed sinful to enter those dark doors to face those grim realities. Yet I knew I would be failing the next generation, if I failed to take the step of informing myself. And there, in the ashes of the human beings discarded whilst their hair and shoes were stored as of, at least some value, I breathed the words of Jesus:

"Insomuch as you did it to the least of these my brethren, you did it to me."
Matthew 25

Tonight, my brain made the connection. Our Holocaust is a Global one. The poorest of the poor deprived of their homes and subsistence by expanding deserts and torrential floods, increasingly powerful hurricanes and typhoons, and more of them; rising sealevels threatening vast expanses of inhabited land and the inevitable demographics of migration, economic refugees... Like most of us during the Third Reich, we can just go on assuming that it's not really as bad as they say...
Though it has to be said, there isn't going to be much left even for the rich if we don't act now to save the poor.

Another Word echoes: (The additions in brackets are my commentary.)

For whoever wants to save his life(style) will lose it,
but whoever loses his life(style) for me will save it.
What good is it for a man to gain the whole world,
and yet lose or forfeit his very self?
Luke 9: 24, 25

Water of Life

2008-03-10T21:41:00.004Z

Hey, look at this! Thanks to http://jippy.typepad.com/ for the happiest news this century.

Water Pumps powered,
not by the virtual or literal enslavement of women,
but by children at play.

What an inspiration! Clean, eco-friendly, fun-powered renewable technology.
And the water is clean, drinkable, and without disease.
See Playpumps International for the dénouement.

There has to be more of this type of community development out there...
If you can better that, I want to hear about it!

Deepening Prayer

2008-03-10T21:10:00.005Z

I sat with two other people, back straight, feet planted firmly on the floor,
and eyes closed, listening.
Alan said to imagine the gaze of God upon us.
So I did.
Although he said to sense the warmth of the light of God,
instead of sunshine,
what I felt was like water.
Cleansed, washed.

I remembered my little girl as a baby, loving her bath,
gazing into my face as she splashed and wriggled in the water.
Beautiful.
The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
(Is this how God sees me?! THAT much love?)

And the day - maybe she'd been splashed -
she decided that wet hair was for her no more.
No matter how I coaxed, reassured, or carried on regardless,
that trusting gaze was lost, and the fun turned into a nightmare.

My delight in her now mixes with fury.
She makes herself so miserable, and for what?
(Is this anything like the "wrath" of God?)
So angry with her for pointlessly refusing
the love and joy and peace that is here for her,
if only she would choose trust, rather than her own way.

She's sleeping now, at last.
Finally given in to her body's clamouring for rest.
God's grace is greater even than
her capacity for fighting sleep - and that's saying something!

And Alan read of the man covered in leprosy, who came to Jesus,
threw himself down in front of him and said,
"Lord, if you want to, you can make me clean."
And Jesus touched the leper... and said,
"I do want to."
And the man was cleansed.
Me too, it seems!

Is THIS what Jesus told you guys to do? (again)

2008-03-09T21:17:00.006Z

Made - or rather, received the gift of, a new friend today. Another American... and a delight.

She gave us the excuse to visit Fitzroy Presbyterian again, which was a blessing on lots of levels.
About seven people smiled and said hi before we even got in the front door - and they didn't ALL recognise me from previous visits, I'm sure.

I might have been the only ordained clergy in the building, and I was in a pew, holding a toddler. But the spirit of Ken Newell was there, even if he was away. That is, his faith in the Holy Spirit to empower the Church to be the Church, even without clergy present! My guess is that Roberta the Administrator played no small part in putting this together. That Blessed Gift of Administration, without which, ministers fall on our faces. They had a good range of different faces and voices contributing to a well-planned and well-led time of worship, reflection and family interaction. There was enough indication of engagement in making the world a better place to show this is a group of people for whom faith is bound in shoe-leather.

Even Littlun sang along - and stayed and listened to the whole service. Keith Lockart started and ended his "sermon" with a song - what a beautiful voice, guitar, and picture-painting story-telling songwriter! His day-job's architecture; but I like to think that using these gifts builds a cathedral of practical praise.

Afterwards, we met for bread, soup and cheese, enjoyed each other's company and raised money for Tearfund. Then our new friend came and inhabited our messy space with her earthed and joyful presence.

Is this what Jesus told us to do? Well not entirely. But it helps to meet and remind each other what he did tell us to be and do. I'm glad I went to Church today!

Washington DC

2008-03-09T20:41:00.004Z

If I'd had a wireless connection on my laptop, and a less clunky, heavy one, perhaps I'd have taken it to the USA and blogged through my recent experiences of seeing faith-based community work, social action and political engagement around the Capitol... But I've noticed that Gordon McDade has blogged most of it (if not the childish hilarity of certain moments) with insight and passion, so I'll send you there.

Photos, though, are something else. You can find them at http://www.flickr.com/photos/cherylwonders/2319785414/

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2230/2319785414_9af49745e0_m.jpg

"Is this really what Jesus told you guys to do?"

2008-02-25T20:55:00.002Z

I went along to a North Belfast Presbytery service in Carnmoney Presbyterian last night. An eye-shaped building, combining a large (possibly a thousand-seater?) auditorium with the intimacy of a much smaller venue, by virtue of curved rows of seats, and curved, tiered balcony.
I arrived late, and they were already singing. Singing well, actually. The music was not too glitzy, but lively and enticing. I saw a ten-year-old-ish girl dancing along spontaneously.
Isn't this how church should be?
Well, maybe not, actually, though it is far, far better than many less enthusiastic, and unenthusing alternatives. Which leads me to the subject of my recent reading:

Jim & Casper Go To Church: Casper the Atheist is hired by Jim Henderson the White Male American Pastor, to come visit some different churches and receive $25 per visit, in return for his thoughts and impressions. It's an interesting cross-section of church experiences, and should be on the reading list for any seminary. But really the back of the fly-leaf tells the main point: "Is this really what Jesus told you guys to do?"

Now, if that line were to become the test by which church leadership meetings guided their decisions, I wonder what difference it would make...

Of Women, and children first

2008-02-17T22:11:00.003Z

Juno. Loved this film. And hated it. Or rather, hated the fact that I cried my way through, in between the comedy. It's a fairy tale, really. You can tell by the artificially clever dialogue. These aren't characters, they are representatives. A teenage pregnant superhero, more together than the adults around her. Screwed up... gutsy, witty, unrealistically controlled and calculating in her sexuality, though her vulnerability shows through in the end.

It's a film about women and their bodies. Wanting babies and not having them. Not wanting them and having them. And hapless males with nothing of value to say on the subject. For all that can be said about the positive modelling of choosing life and choosing to give the child up for adoption, the real challenge would be a film which explored other options, which include choosing to save sex for a stable, committed (even married?) relationship. Now THAT would be radical.

Or, what about a film which shows MEN dealing with the desire for children, and their desire and proactive search for intimate relationship which isn't just about reproductive organs? Is this just too far beyond a filmmaker's imagination? Or beyond the imagination of the financial backers, perhaps? Fairy Tales shape our imagination - and thereby, our future.

Truth Commissioner

2008-02-12T22:36:00.000Z

For reasons too complex to explain here, I found myself alone at David Park's book launch tonight, in Belfast's Linen Hall Library. (I love that venue! The glassy strip of staircase rising four, five stories high between Victorian shops).

I haven't read The Truth Commissioner. It arrived on my bedside table just before I fell asleep last night. So I was not only alone; I was ignorant. I've never read any of David Park's books. Criminally negligent-ly Ignorant.

I came home with an armful. All written out of the Troubles, it seems. What else is there, if you come from here? Well... I guess to write from here and not find the Troubles on the sleeve is to have neglected one permeating factor in all our lives.

Odd then, that so much preaching, sermon-writing, modern praise music emanating from the Northern part of this Island seems to ignore that claustrophobic elephant. The one we hope will go away if we don't talk about it. What sort of Truth is this, that castigates only our enemies, condemns only Others, and fails to empower Protestants to stay in an area when Roman Catholics move in?

Truth has been substantially decommissioned; laid aside in a dark space, out of sight, while we quietly go out of our minds. Fill them with makeovers, holidays, new kitchens and plasma tellies - and despise anyone who chooses greener, more neighbourly tv-free lifestyles. While sneering and superficiality are in vogue, what philanthropist will commission new works?

Artists of the World Unite. You have nothing to lose but your audience.

Going, Going...

2008-02-12T22:33:00.000Z

Gone? Can anyone tell me, are Comfort Adefowoju and her children still in the UK? Or were they sent back to Nigeria?

Leaving on a Jet Plane?

2008-02-08T20:17:00.000Z

Unbelievable. If Sinn Fein's website is correct, there are still plans to deport Comfort Adefowoju and her children tomorrow.
What will it take for the Home Office to realise that these are not the people to be removing from the UK!?

Speechless. And disgusted.

Changing airports

2008-02-03T16:04:00.000Z

Instead of concerned bystanders watching weary parents tussling with three-year olds, we have oohs and aahs, as Littlun merrily rolls along astride her Trunki. The airport's atmosphere changes as we pass. I'm putting time in waiting for our flight. Normally at this stage, I'm torn between boredom with the millionth sedentary reread of Dora the Explorer, and the unpalatable attempt to trail a hefty Littlun and her entertainment bag (books, toys, crayons) around the airport. Today I'm walking about comfortably, with Trunki rolling easily (if a little erratically) behind.

He's not capacious, as suitcases go. But for travelling light, in both kilos and humour, our Green TowGo hit the spot.

All went well till my precious charge fell asleep unexpectedly on the return journey, just as we were arriving at the airport, and I wished I had brought my pushchair after all. But when she awoke, going through the security portal, one sight of Trunki was enough to dispel the grumbles.

The verdict: a pushchair/stroller kept until reaching the doors of the plane is the practical option for a smaller child (so long as the airline aren't charging it as extra baggage.) But Trunki certainly brightened and shortened the waiting.

Confession time: I have even used it as hand baggage when travelling without a child, as it is just the right size for the tiny hand baggage allowances on Aer Arann. It was a real squeeze to get my stuff in, but still trundled along like a puppy behind me! And no waiting for bags on arrival.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

2008-02-03T15:51:00.000Z

It's a wet Sunday afternoon. Too cold to be out and about. Perfect weather for reading this deceptively simple, profound, hopeful and disturbing ... what? novel? story?
more than that.
Parable.

I can't spoil it by telling anyone more than that you must read it.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. John Boyne.

It won't take long.

It isn't difficult.

It's compelling.

As irritating as a nine-year-old boy can be.

And as deserving of attention.

Read it!

Christian Unity in Ireland?

2008-01-31T10:08:00.000Z

Just found a short press release indicating that the four biggest denominations in Ireland are planning to build one united church building in Adamstown, Ireland's newest town. I've been saying for years that Irish Christianity had more to offer the world than the phrase "Ireland... that's where the Christians are killing each other, isn't it?"
Whether a shared building will give us a home to perpetrate our domestic violence, or a place to build a shared family, or both, remains to be seen.

Educating Refugees

2008-01-25T09:38:00.000Z

There's an article in FT today on the disruption of refugee children's education, and how their education (or lack thereof) is used as a weapon against the parents. It's a real rock-and-hardplace to have to choose between actual threat of physical harm, and the loss of your children's longterm social and educational wellbeing.

This is what upsets me about Comfort Adefowoju (see earlier post) and her children having been taken out of a community where they were thriving and contributing, to be banged up in Yarls Wood detention centre, and repeatedly brought to the brink of repatriation to an unliveable situation in Nigeria.

I can see that on the scale of what refugees worldwide have to face, they are at least fed and watered and relatively safe in the meantime... but these are the ones we can do something about (if the government will only listen) A bit like the thousands of starfish all washed up on the seashore after a storm. The child picking them up and throwing them back in the water may not be able to save them all, but she makes a difference to each one, one by one.

A Shared Future?

2008-01-23T20:55:00.000Z

Naomi Long MLA challenged the Deputy First Minister of the Northern Ireland Assembly today on its apparent shelving of the Shared Future document. McGuinness seemed to say that since that document was produced by a previous administration, it wasn't going to be implemented, but rather replaced by another document. If you can't solve the problem, write about it.

Could it be that the two largest parties who share in government here have the most to lose by reducing the segregation, the so-called "peace walls", the sectarian society?

Comfort in Belfast

2008-01-23T07:46:00.000Z

I really don't get it. The government seems more determined to deal with the statistics arond immigration than with the problems it can cause. Seemingly impervious to the local community's demands for Comfort Adefowoju and her four children to remain in East Belfast, where they were constructively and happily adding to the much-needed diversity of our city, the Home Office took them to Yarls Wood detention centre, and has been trying to fly them back to Nigeria, where they face a serious risk to their personal safety. Isn't it time that Belfast became a place of asylum and peace, of security and diversity, instead of the sectarian and racist capital of Europe?

Give Comfort back to Belfast.

After the Move

2008-01-17T21:15:00.000Z

It's hard to work in the midst of chaos.
Full marks to the painter who managed to
brighten the walls
all round the piles of furniture and boxes.

He didn't even laugh at me sitting
on the floor,
computer-less, on the phone
passed from pillar to post
by administrators.

Not out loud anyway.

Today, I wanted his job.
Tomorrow, he will finish, and walk away.
I have to Tackle the Stuff...

Whitewash is so much easier than relationships.

Sex discrimination in the Church

2008-01-17T20:53:00.000Z

So, help me here. Never mind the details of the current reason why people keep talking to me about this subject. I want to write about the Big Stuff.

If God made human beings in God's image (Genesis 1), and Moses told them they weren't allowed to make "any graven image" (Exodus 20), isn't the point that our worship of God will show itself (genuine or not) by the way we honour or dishonour the people made in God's image? (Amos 5)

It looks to me like that's what Jesus was about. (Too many texts to list. But for just one, Mark 10.6)

Can someone explain to me why Christians who say they want to follow Jesus, don't seem to set themselves the goal of loving strangers, enemies and people who are sinners (as yet unrepentant) just as he's supposed to have done? Isn't the Holy Spirit supposed to change our hearts?

What does that really look like in 21st Century? (Examples, please!)

And if there is a New Creation in Christ, (1 Corinthians 5.17) and if the apostle Paul says that In Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile, Male nor Female, Slave nor Free... (Galatians 3.26-29) why are Christians so keen to perpetuate these distinctions, even after society has accepted it should abandon the injustice of it as far as biologically possible?

Doesn't our experience of the unconditional grace and love of Jesus Christ give us enough humility to listen to each other, to work alongside each other constructively, and trust God to work out the Big Stuff? I know it should in my life...

There now. I've got my frustration out there, hopefully without damaging my brothers and sisters. Answers on a postcard... Please!

When random facts become Story

2008-01-16T22:32:00.000Z

Who are we? What makes us significant citizens?
I was amused by random facts from the Republic of Ireland's 2006 census, and challenged by my own need to generalise, and to make assumptions about categories of people.

I was also amazed by how small we are. Do we really only have two Maltese divorcees living in the 26 counties? Are there any in the 6 northern counties?

And what of all these holders of Polish passports who come from Africa and Asia? Even if there had been a scam for Asians or Africans to get European passports through a Polish contact, how on earth did they make contact?

Clearly my imagination has been stunted. Maybe I should read more fiction...

Talking of which... I popped along at lunchtime to the Black Box in Belfast's Cathedral Quarter, to hear local writers Glenn Patterson and Malachi O'Doherty (and June Caldwell - why, when she said humorously that she had learned about Northern Ireland by studying the sex life of loyalist paramilitaries, did it sound like they were some kind of insect or other low-life?) articulating some thoughts on what it means to be a writer in post-conflict society (or something like that!)

All sorts of interesting dynamics and body-language to observe. I should have taken notes... That's why I'm not a writer!

I appreciated Glenn's point, in response to a German journalist's question about memorialising, that Truth in Translation (despite its limitations as a play) had been a powerful and fitting memorial to what has happened here. Well, that's probably not exactly what he said. But what I heard was what I had thought about the play: that it articulated extremely well the complexity and impossibility of ever writing one definitive and universally acceptable version of the truth.

And I thought of the two men (in my innate sexism, it didn't occur to me to include June, sitting between them!) and their different personalities, experiences and backgrounds, as well as writing styles and genres, as two of many interpreters, conveying stories and possibilities to those who will listen or read. Writers (and artists) are our prophets.

So it's time to go and listen and read... for the Voice of Truth. Grace, Justice, Hope, Judgment... I'll try to share some of what I find.

ikon

2008-01-14T20:19:00.000Z

I've been intending to make it to one of these ikon gatherings for some time. Last night was the night. I'm still wondering about the use of John O'Donohue's writings and life as inspiration for the "liturgy". Maybe if I'd known the man... and better known his work... But that's a job for another day.

I don't know what I expected of ikon. I don't think it will have changed much in me. (But then, most experiences of Church are like that.) I do know that the time to talk with a friend, and to engage meaningfully with strangers on subjects like Beginnings and Change will have changed me. As these things do, incrementally.

Was God there? No doubt about that for me... much as God is in all the places where people meet to live and grow and share.

Was it Christian? Not sure that's its goal. Depends who's asking. A question of definitions. Certainly there was much of the loving spirit of Jesus Christ, openness to outsiders and strangers, to sinners and to living the gift of life to the full, which resonates with the Jesus of the Gospels.

For me, it fell short of my hopes, as we never quite got to centre on Christ, our Core.

Christ was there, but not drawing attention to himself.
Working among the broken, speaking grace and hope to those who despair, Christ was there.

But it felt to me that the Water of Life was replaced with a potent Eau de Vie, whether whiskey or artistic endeavour, which might easily steal, rather than give, life. But then, whilst it's easy to criticise, we have been putting symbols and powerful images in the place of Christ for centuries... Human nature, isn't it?

Un long dimanche de fiançailles

2008-01-14T20:01:00.000Z

A Very Long Engagement
- It was a fairly long film (just over 2 hours) based on the novel by Sébastien Japrisot.

But the few years it covers don't drag. Five French soldiers court martialled for self-mutilation at the Somme provide glimpses of the human costs of war, the complexity of their lives and the effect of their experiences on those around them, both in the trenches and back home.

It sounds heavy, but there's so much humour, a lightness of touch, a fairy-tale quality to the unfolding story, which carries us through to the pensive, but understated conclusion. Conclusion is the wrong word for where we arrive. Typically French, this work of art opens windows of possibility for the imagination to pursue the story long after the credits have rolled.

Another masterpiece by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Audrey Tautou, of Amélie fame. Strong caméo by Jodie Foster too.

Two Rooms

2008-01-14T19:43:00.000Z

There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but I recently enjoyed a free, delicious and musically pleasant evening in Two Rooms, University Road, Belfast.

One of my more enjoyable Belfast restaurant experiences. Interesting menu made choosing difficult. But rewarded with subtle flavours, in reasonable quantities, accompanied by good singing and piano. Thanks Rhian and accompanist. Thanks, Peter and the team for the food!

Well worth another visit. Many more, in fact!

Feasting on the memory of good things...

2008-01-05T20:20:00.000Z

In recent days, I've heard myself using that phrase of my mother's: "When it's gone, it's gone." The point was, she couldn't stop us greedily attacking the cake or biscuit tin, to make the contents last a bit longer.

But today I learned that when it's gone, it's still there in our experience. When the farm labourers in county Antrim used to come to work for the season, each day they would be given some basic food: bread, an egg, and a slice of bacon or ham from the pig hung up in the corner.

Eventually the meat would run out, and the workers got bread, and egg, and "point". That is, instead of a slice of bacon, they could point to where the pig used to be.

In these leaner days of January, we could do worse than feast on our memory of good things.

If I remember correctly, in C.S.Lewis' first science fiction novel "Out of the Silent Planet", the extraterrestrial sorns didn't understand the human desire to repeat pleasures. Their practice was to enjoy, and then remember their joys in poetry and song.

It strikes me that the ability to remember, and be satisfied to be glad and grateful, is one of the highest qualities of the best of humans. To sing and make poems seems behaviour specific to humans.

That's not to say that it is our calling to be placid in the face of hunger. But it does strike me that if we in the West could channel less of our energy into more and more consumption, and learn to be content and joyful in the memory and present experience of rich relationships and pleasures, we might rediscover enough humanity to tackle the spiritual and physical greed, oppression and poverty which enslaves our world.

Now, I can see the point in that.

Belfast 2008

2008-01-02T22:32:00.000Z

Of all the places to be, I never thought I'd feel so safe in Belfast.

I've been reading the news, after missing a lot over the last few months. Pakistan... suicide bombing and assassination. Kenya... women and children burned in church. Sri Lanka... bomb in Colombo.

Then again, I did read some local news today. One woman under threat and frequent attacks on her home, for standing out against drugs. Arson attack on an Orange Hall in Portadown. 22 year old stabbed in Belfast. 86 year old attacked and robbed of in his Lisburn home. And a young man known to my sister who died just before Christmas from drug abuse...

What spirits clutch at the souls of humankind? What evil lurks in the shadows of bright places?
Advent is over; and we are still waiting for a Saviour. Rather, we need a saviour, but have little faith to keep waiting.

Speaking French in Belfast

2008-01-02T22:31:00.000Z

So as I'm leaving the hallowed halls of IKEA, a number of items roll off my cart onto the wet paving. Merde!

Well, not too many people round here speak French, so it's a safe way of expressing frustration without offending... The man just in front of me stops and turn, round to help me gather my clobber. Thank you! (Mood changes to gratitude.)

Then I hear him speaking with his partner. He's French.
This is Belfast. I've just sworn in French in the hearing of a Frenchman. What are the chances?

First weird coincidence of my year. But maybe not so surprising as it would have been ten years ago. Bless you, Chuckle brothers, for continuing the climate of peacebuilding... and bless all those you judged for doing what you have done to get where you are today.

Coffee and promises

2008-01-02T15:02:00.000Z

It's a new year. Time for all those cups of coffee I didn't get round to last year.

Chuckles

2007-12-31T21:39:00.001Z

Just when western middle class guilt seemed to have induced melancholia more effectively than an Old Year's Night drink... Along came Will & Testament and William's Person(s) of the year, the new Chuckle Brothers Ian and Martin Paisley-McGuinness... Fair play. They have done the unthinkable and got little thanks for it - but it was far better than any of the alternatives on offer. Much to be thankful for in 2007.

Then I noticed a link to The Cartoon Blog Thank you Dave Walker! I was glad of the chuckles.

A Clean Sheet

2007-12-31T20:48:00.000Z

Last day of the old year, and I spent it trying to find new sheets for my child's first bed.

I found sheets. Lots of sheets. But matching ones?
And certainly none that didn't make me pray for the poor folk who make them in the far east...

No, I tell a lie. I looked on the internet last night, and found lots of organic and fair trade sheets. Almost all white and none of them affordable.

Affordable. Well, I guess what I mean is that I'm too mean... to spend what it costs to pay cotton producers, spinners, weavers etc a fair wage.

In the end I went and sold my soul to IKEA.

A far cry from straw in a feeding trough, and swaddling bands.

I want my child to be rich... in the things that matter. In beauty and colour, but more importantly in relationships and world citizenship. But on this last day of 2007 I have cheated her with brightly coloured fripperies fabricated on the back of the world's poor...

Tomorrow, I want to start afresh, with a clean sheet, and beautiful bedding made by people who are fairly paid.

Tomorrow, I want to give her the wealth of the King of kings who said "what does it profit a person, to gain the whole world, and lose their soul?"

... at least, that's what I say I want to give her. But am I ready to let her live a life like Jesus, in simplicity and relative poverty, and perhaps even to suffer a death like his, standing for truth, love, justice and freedom from oppression and the power of evil?

Waiting

2007-12-24T08:16:00.000Z

Advent's nearly over.
Been too busy and too tired to blog much...
Hardly had time to know what's in the news, let alone to reflect on life...
I've had small sick people to think about... That makes a different kind of reflection.
Come tomorrow, what will change?
Some things you can't plan for. Just keep eyes open for signs of hope, for justice, for grace, for mercy and peace... healing.
Meanwhile, got to go and get this day's bread.

Omagh from the outside

2007-12-20T22:46:00.001Z

I remember 15th August 1998.
It was the end of my first week in my new job. I had been living abroad, but had come "home" to contribute to the building of peace.
We were taking two carloads of young adults, including some foreign visitors, to the Marble Arch caves near Enniskillen.
On our way home, we stopped briefly to stop in Erneside shopping centre. It's not a huge place, so there was little opportunity to lose each other. But we hadn't counted on the bomb scare. Forced out through different doors, and away from our agreed meeting place, I was feeling distressed that instead of peace, our visitors were seeing the old Troubles. Instead of experiencing Irish hospitality, they were in danger.

Eventually we found each other and started back Eastwards, passing signposts for Omagh on our left. I put the radio on, and we heard the early reports of the bomb there.
Numbness, the need to reassure our visitors whilst wondering where to put that old terror rising within... the need to check on relations in the town... then a kind of guilty relief that no one I knew seemed to be hurt. But tears, waves of tears, even as I write, for the unborn children, for the mothers, fathers, grandparents, husbands, wives, children, uncles, aunts, friends... Protestant, Catholic, Mormon. Unionist, Gaelic, Spanish.

This is a small place. Sometimes we might pretend it is otherwise, but when one suffers, we all suffer - one way or another.

I wonder... would the Peace Process have had the same support, had it not been for that day in Omagh. Would we be where we are? How far from the bombers' intentions... unless... (but I can't allow myself to imagine such a cynical conspiracy as that. Can I? Who can guess the motivations of people who would do such a thing?)

Police Questioning

2007-12-20T22:21:00.000Z

Sean Hoey acquitted... So the survivors and victims' families from the Omagh bombing of 15th August 1998 still have no justice. Not that they would have had justice if he'd been convicted though innocent. In fact, no system of human justice can ever render true justice. Even like-for-like, eye-for-eye retribution will only ever give what the offender deserved, which is easier to bear than the injustices meted out to the victims... - That was my conclusion from watching Dead Man Walking years ago...

But what a mess for us all to live with. The police have so many questions to answer around the collection of evidence that one wonders... what will this do to our society's fragile respect for law and order?

[I heard this week of a policeman who bought his son a car, and said that there was no need to pay Road Tax until stopped and challenged about it. I hope, I hope that he was misunderstood or misquoted. I hope such cavalier attitudes to the law are not endemic.]

But my heart was warmed by the widower of an Omagh victim, who spoke today as a lawyer and said something to the effect that he believes in our system of Law and Order, and that although he is not happy for the victims at the outcome of Sean Hoey's trial, Sean Hoey is a human being with human rights, and those rights were protected from a miscarriage of justice today. Nonetheless, he reminded us, the victims' human rights were not respected. The implication was that as a society, we do not/should not reduce ourselves to the level of the terrorists. I can imagine that some of his family, friends and fellow victims can't agree with him; some will be angry that he still trusts such a system... but I thank God for his courage and integrity in holding to the higher good.

For every father teaching his kids to evade the law where possible, there will always be one living in integrity and instilling faith and hope.

Winter Graduation

2007-12-19T23:03:00.000Z

One after another, they walked across the stage, shook hands with the Chancellor and crossed to receive their degree. Name after name after name, face after face. The university can hide their individuality with gowns and mortar boards, but the glory of each one, made, if the bible is to be believed, in the image of God! I watched them pass. Doctors, diplomas, firsts and passes, it didn't matter. They were there to celebrate the end of a process, the finishing of a project, the successful completion of a course of events. And there were their families and supporters, proud or tired, some underdressed for the occasion, but there nonetheless.

Applause after applause, till our hands ached... but still we applauded, because each one deserved recognition for their work, their achievement. Then at last, approaching the end, the Chancellor bid the new graduates stand, wave their mortar boards in the air and shout their thanks to those who had supported them. Family, friends and faculty... it wasn't the loudest shout I've ever heard, but it had joy in it.

Merited applause has its place, but heaven will be filled with shouts of gratitude...

The Angel at the Meter

2007-12-18T21:33:00.000Z

Exhausted. Let Littlun go to Granny's for the day, as she seemed to be getting better, little by little, and I needed a break. So off to Belfast City Centre, found the perfect parking space, as close as could be hoped for between the two places I wanted to go, and right beside a parking meter. I thought I was "on the pig's back", till I realised the meter didn't want to accept my card, and I didn't have two £1 coins. I tried to phone, but the number on the meter didn't seem to be working. The guy behind me wanted to pay for his parking using coins, so I let him go ahead, while I redialled. He said, "How long are you wanting to park for?"
"A couple of hours", I said, pushing the buttons on my phone.
"Here," he said, putting £2 in my hand. "We won't need it, we're heading back to Ireland."

I can't decide what this moment is. Gratitude. A moment of grace. But it's also of humour and the sense of living somewhere really bizarre... How can you be heading "back to Ireland" whilst standing on the island of Ireland? He meant "back to the Republic", or "back to the South." He meant, we're going to Euroland, where these pounds stirling are clutter in my pocket.

I thanked him, and watched him disappear down the road.

It's not a pig's back I'm on... an angel, momentarily transporting me and my values to a different kingdom...

p.s. I still didn't have £2 to buy the Issues magazine from the Romanian woman. Is there any cure for the condition of my heart?

Liverpool Nativity

2007-12-16T23:16:00.000Z

It was like Advent... waiting in the dark, wondering how long the suffering would end... and languishing for the light. Well, I had been hoping to watch Liverpool Nativity on BBC3, but instead, was tending the sick. At last, she was willing to rest, to sleep, and I headed for the flickering of the glowing Box. I only caught the last three minutes of Joseph and Mary singing with delight and wonder and terror at the beauty in their baby bundle... but it took no time for the emotion to grip me, for Gabriel's words to the crowd to seize my heart with joy and grief and hope. The refugee family are sent into the crowd, and the crowd are commissionned: "welcome them among you... swathe them in your love..." - or something to that effect. It was the word "swathe" which caught me. Swaddling, clothing, snuggling, like the bands that surrounded the newborn baby, compensating for the loss of the maternal womb, reassuring as mothers' arms. Oh, that our communities might again be nurseries for lost children, secure places beyond the womb, for all to be born among us and thrive!

Salvation from Sainsburys

2007-12-16T09:24:00.000Z

"Open me for great offers and inspiration this Christmas!"
Thus spake the angel email messenger,
and immediately there was with the email ... the idea of an alternative Christmas... (with apologies to Luke 2.8-19)

And there were in the same country shoppers abiding in cyberspace, keeping watch over their blogs by night.
And, lo, the Email of the Store came upon them, and the glory of the Store shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. (For there were only ten shopping days till Christmas.)
And the email said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is stacked this day in the outlet of your choosing a Saviour, which is All You Need.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the goods wrapped in plastic, delivered to your doorstep.
And suddenly there was with the Email a multitude of emails praising Goods, and saying,
Glory to Store in the highest, and on earth peace of mind, good gifts for all men.
And it came to pass, as the emails were gone away from them into Deleted Items folder, the shoppers said one to another, Let us now go even unto our local outlet, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Store hath made known unto us.
And they came with haste, and found Marketing* and Junk, and the Bargain lying in a trolley.
And when they had bought it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this purchase.
And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shoppers.
But Marketing kept all the profits, and pocketed them in her heart.

*Some early manuscripts: Merchandise

A little joy

2007-12-15T22:52:00.000Z

So much more refreshing than the same number of men chasing a ball around a pitch...

The Heart of Christmas

2007-12-13T09:34:00.001Z

I wanted, with my Methodist colleague, to provide a meal for the international students, and to share some of the cultural significance, and some of the Christian heart, of Christmas.

I mentioned our plans to a group from the local Presbyterian congregation, who make a point of befriending international students, and providing hospitality over holidays. They volunteered to help us with the food and anything else we needed.

We spent the day clearing the hall, rearranging and cleaning the grimy chairs and tables... Just as we were realising that the tables we wanted to bring up from downstairs were far too heavy for us to lift, a friendly -and burly- student arrived to help us. A real God-send.

We got the place set up, and as daylight fell, the colours of the room warmed, and our plain white tablecloths with a single white candle on a red napkin, began to glow with simplicity and welcome. We had no idea who would avail of our invitation. The kind accommodation office had offered to deliver the fliers, but it meant we had no personal contact with most of the students, and no idea whether there would be ten or a hundred. In catering, we had picked a number: sixty. In setting up, the available tables and chairs had allowed for sixty. And when the room was full, and all were being fed, I did a quick head-count. Sixty...

At the end of the night, there was just a little left over. Enough to show that no one had been underfed! We had lots of grateful students, lots of good contact, and the privilege of explaining in some way why we celebrate Jesus. We sang a few Christmas Carols: Hark the herald angels sing, O little town of Bethlehem, and Silent Night, and the Germans made it perfect by offering a spontaneous verse of Stille Nacht.

Grateful and humbled, that from the chaos and disorganisation, God took the best we could offer, and used it to bless people from many nations. As the prophet Isaiah said, "Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn."

And as God said to Abraham,
"I will bless you ... and I will make you a blessing to others.
...All the families of the earth will be blessed through you." Genesis 12.2,3

The Mockingbird's Leap

2007-12-13T09:22:00.000Z

I'm really enjoying quick forays into blogging, both here, and in the transient (but probably more eternal than we imagine) community on www.themockingbirdsleap.wordpress.com
The diversity of our lives and days, the complexity of our interactions in our world, reflect prisms of pure light shining in varied intensities and hues across our spectrum.

While I am at home tending a sick child, someone else is taking Gentiles to visit a synagogue, and someone else is in a shopping mall.

It makes me wonder, what are the days like for those who have no leisure to blog, who have no computer or internet or electricity... or the liberty from worry or starvation to pause and reflect.

Rich... but poor if we don't take time to notice.

Transitional Justice

2007-12-06T21:43:00.000Z

I visited the Transitional Justice Institute for the first time the other day. Argentina and South Africa's experiences of how human rights activism has changed through political transition. I only understood the discussion at a very superficial level. But it was enough to trigger my own thoughts about how to ensure that our Northern Irish peace process continues to bed in.

I realised that I don't yet believe the peace is permanent. There's too much bigotry and there are too many sectarianisms around for me to be confident that we've "got it". Respect for all human beings is not yet our "point de départ", or even our default position. Our theologies here are idolatrous in providing excuses for rejecting the image of God in fellow-humans. Too many "decent folk" still prefer to shun those they disagree with, rather than engage, learn to listen, to understand and even to love. (Anything short of this is not following Christ, is it?)

While I can turn up to a church meeting and feel cold-shouldered for my theology, before I've even met folk, I cannot celebrate the quality of the love of Christ in my own denomination.

Thankfulness and Peace

2007-12-06T21:29:00.000Z

It feels odd to come back to my blog after several weeks' absence, due to my daughter's severe chest infection and time in hospital, and to see that the last thing I wrote was about compassion for a hummingbird, and our Father's love for us.

She lay in the crook of my arm this evening as I made up a story about "Belinda Bear", to coax her towards sleep, and I remembered those same, bright little eyes, shining up at me during those first months when I fed her from my own body. Now she sings and talks and paints and skips; the chest infection lost its hold over her, and life has flooded back in to her hungry, growing cells. She laughs, loves humour, word play, mischief... her grandparents and her parents.

We said Thank You to God for giving us this day, and she carried her teddies to the cot, then came back to me for a hug, and to be lifted in, tucked in, and enfolded in the quiet peace of darkness.

The Hummingbird

2007-11-19T22:51:00.001Z

Puzzling this morning over a large jungle jigsaw with my daughter, I noticed for the first time a small hummingbird... and remembered Capistrano in February 1998, where I first saw real hummingbirds.

Whizzing and whirring in the conference centre gardens, daylight shooting stars... too fast to see... then the torrential downpours of El Nino overnight, and one tiny bird exhausted and wet, gasping as it lay full length (about 2 inches) in the palm of a man's hand. I got a really good look at its perishing beauty.

The sorrow for this minuscule creature, the compassion from these theology students, attempting a rescue, where none might be possible... and my having to leave, not knowing how the story would end.

"not one sparrow falls to the ground without your Father noticing it" Mt 10.29

"If you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him." Mt 7.11

Grace in the mystery of a memory.

Lions for Lambs

2007-11-09T23:52:00.000Z

Preachy? Maybe a bit. But I want to see this one again.
Engage with it.
Robert Redford, Meryl Streep, Tom Cruise... Another film about the US' international wars. This one juxtaposes the disengagement in domestic crises, by taking two students from bad areas and schools, who make it into political science majors and then sign up, so that when - if - they return as war veterans, the country will HAVE to listen to them.

Since I work with students, what worked for me was the inspiring and challenging of young people to engage the world for positive change, rather than opt out through cynicism, hedonism or sheer lack of vision.

The impossible position of the Media, enslaved to corporations, no longer free to critique the policies and politicians, and the Powers which influence and control them, highlighted the need for new communities of truth-telling, not owned or manipulable by the Powers. Individuals with integrity can't be effective alone; they need others to support them, to go down together, but to make a splash doing so.

In the end, it's all about timing. Knowing when to stand up, and when to keep your head down. Even the best people, with the most integrity, engaging the best they know how, may make little impact if they stand up too late... or too soon.

Where I come from, (Belfast... Planet Earth...) compromise means we are all sullied with each others' sins and mistakes; but it is also what enables some sort of future.

3 Reasons Why Gold is Headed for $1500 An Ounce

2007-11-09T22:58:00.000Z

I should be grateful to Christianity Today for its email, with the above title this morning, so disinterestedly pointing me towards the possibility of making higher profit than in the shaky stock market, by investing in gold. But I was shocked, - and angry all day. It was a Books & Culture email, so I imagined it was a clever trail for a book that would be critical of the quest for riches and financial security without questioning the ethics of our investments... so I read on... and on... and even clicked on the link to see the Christian punch line. It never came. Or rather, the punch line seemed to be: the stock market is fragile, so get out (never mind that you are contributing to its decline), and invest - not in communities of faith who can cushion the blow for those at the bottom, but in gold bullion.

Actually, though I'm angry, I am grateful. Because I still have two coats, and even spare shoes... Grateful. For the reminder of the god of material gain, which shapes and guides our lives, and for whom we make so many great sacrifices of time and freedom. "5000 years of history says Gold is a protector of wealth. This makes Gold Eagles an excellent investment for profit, privacy and times of economic and market uncertainty." Christianity Today says so, so there.

Let's forget that economically unprofitable Teacher then, who said something like Don't invest in your financial security; invest in the kingdom of God. When he said (see Luke 12.33) "Sell what you have and give it to the poor," Jesus clearly didn't realise that true worth is not in the people made in God's image. Now we know the truth: even the stock market is faulty, because it too is a human community of faith. Ditch it. Don't trust it. True Wealth is protected by cold gold.

That old teacher got one thing right, though. Moths and rust can't eat it.

So that's all right then.

Isn't it?

I wonder as I wander

2007-11-04T21:50:00.000Z

Wondering... As a child, I loved the film, Paint Your Wagon, especially two of its songs: I was born under a Wanderin' Star; and I talk to the trees. Now, rooted in Belfast, my journey is in my mind and outwards to learn to love others - fairly carbon-neutral. I don't know if trees read blogs, but they never listened anyway.

I loved Christmas too, and Christmas carols. I wonder as I wander... I never quite got the hang of "We Three Kings", but kept coming back to look at the Star of Wonder. These ramblings may reflect some of the sparkle of my journey, a pinpoint testimony to a real time and place somewhere in the universe, from which a particular ray of light reached earth, and was noticed by a traveller.

Inspired by the brilliant Truth in Translation at the Lyric theatre in Belfast on Friday night, it's time to put down markers, say where we've been, what we've done, what's been done to us... my own little Truth and Reconciliation Commission, to keep me moving forward and not back, while we find ways of Healing Through Remembering. Maybe when Northern Ireland has done its remembering, we will learn to forgive and receive permission to forget. (Much of this was discussed at the CCCI conference, Divided Past, Shared Future on Saturday.) When we sort ourselves out, we might even start looking at what we're doing to children in Iraq...

Talking of which... I also met Shane Claiborne in Belfast this week, and read The Irresistible Revolution. This guy and his Gospel ring true. There's an integrity and love which resonates with the Gospels' accounts of Jesus. He embodies simplicity, humility, willingness to suffer and take risks in order to follow Jesus. It makes the rest of us uncomfortable. Too much to lose. And too little imagination or faith to see what we might gain... The journey continues...