A drop of the hard stuff

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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.