Ups and Downs

Walls Investments
Jericho. Jerusalem.
Berlin. Belfast.

Your investment
may go down as well as up.

The First Blackberry

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?

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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....

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

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?