Discrimination against Celibacy

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

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

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

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)

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

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?

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

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

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

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)

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

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