Life will never be the same...Bosnia, 20 years on.

I served in Bosnia from Sep 1994 until October 1995, with the Royal Military Police, first with the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) and then as a part of the Rapid Reaction Force 24 Airmobile Brigade. The war was still raging there and I was deployed to an area in the north of the country.  The area we covered was populated by both Bosnian Muslims and Bosnian Croats, who were Christian by religion. We got on well with the townspeople and farmers alike. It was almost as if the hatred of the war had not reached this area. We patrolled the streets and supply routes daily, attempting to make sure the much needed aid convoys were getting through to the people who needed them. We conducted policing operations with various factions and we tried to be a presence of stability and dependability in a country in the grip of a violent civil war.

Ethnic cleansing was rife, people in towns across Bosnia simply disappeared; their homes were singled out and then burnt down. Some were taken to camps, others were discovered in the mass graves, others became refugees/displaced persons..

I found myself in a country that was being destroyed through a raging civil war. Where fellow humans had been going about their lives and had then just left, fled, been murdered.

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus speaks about “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.” This was exactly what was in Bosnia.

            “The enemy it turned out, had been living right next door, right down the street. Until just yesterday Bosnians had shared everything, drinking coffee together, going to parties and funerals together, visiting each other, marrying each other, but now…” (Hukanovic, 1998)

But now, now was killing time and when this time arrived it was these ordinary people that had committed these terrible acts of brutality and violence.  How did this make me feel? I had been sent here to protect this innocence, these ordinary people, yet I had been killing time in a secure compound when the slaughter had happened.

 

Wave after wave of emotion ran through me during those months, even now twenty years later, I find it hard to express honestly the horror that ethnic cleansing is.

Professor Norman Cigar is a military analyst who wrote          “Overall, ethnic cleansing seems to have followed a premeditated strategy, rather than being an improvisation arising from unfolding events.” (Cigar, 1995)

If as Cigar suggests that this slaughter and cleansing was premeditated, then did it not show that these ordinary people already had an intrinsic ability to commit terrible violence towards other humans. If this was true, how could the God I know and love have allowed this to happen? Stories and images from British Forces operations in the country came to mind. Acts of Christian kindness by British soldiers who professed to have no faith. They patrolled the aid routes and stood guard over the bread queues. These images came back to me and helped me to remember that in the midst of this inhumanity were people exercising free will given by God, to love their neighbour.

So, ordinary people could commit terrible violence and soldiers could carry out acts of humanity. As a peacekeeper and soldier I felt useless, angry and helpless simultaneously. I have come to understand that such anger once stoked can make any human capable of violence and sin. Continuing this thought process, we would be leaving Bosnia when our tour of duty was completed but Bosnian survivors would not and how would they deal with the feelings we all had.

            “Most wars feed on hate, and the masters of war know how to manufacture it well. It is the proportions of the Balkan hate and its rawness right there on the fringes of what some thought to be civilised Europe that causes us to stagger.” (Volf. 1992)
 

Peace enforcement in Bosnia has been in place since late 1995. However peace is not there. The whole of the Balkans is a bubbling pot of emotion, hatred and anger, this is all too evident in the footage and reports which continue to come out of the Balkans.  Hukanovic a survivor of the death camps of Bosnia closes his autobiography with, “Lord, may you never forgive them.” (Hukanovic, 1998:163)

But I am not a Bosnian, I was a stranger seemingly killing time in a foreign land, so how have I dealt with my experiences and my feelings.

I have used scripture and secular writing to help me find God in those places and memories of human evilness. The writings of Corrie ten Bloom and Eva Schloss both survivors of the Nazi concentration camps, have enabled me to reconcile some of my feelings of anger. Anger towards those ordinary people who committed such evil and towards the mandate we as peace keepers were working under which did not allow us to launch offensive operations. I have gradually ceased to be as angry with God. Earlier in this reflection I wrote about British soldiers showing compassion and love to their ‘neighbours’. I began to understand that God was there, in those soldiers and in the aid workers who were prepared to and in some instances did, lay down their lives for their ‘neighbours’.

 Gustavo Gutierrez cited in the Cambridge Companion to Liberation Theology states that, “liberation theology has its origins in the reality of the ‘premature and unjust death of many people’”. (Rowland, 2007:3) I have learnt that my theology, my beliefs and values were radically shaped by my experiences in Bosnia. Prior to my tours there, my faith was naïve. I did not have any comprehension about the true extent of humankind’s ability to commit terrible sin. Now I do and because of this I now holdfast to a creed that says all people are equal and valued by God.

 Paul wrote in his letter to the Ephesians, “I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” (Eph 4:1) I believe I received my calling on the blood soaked streets of Bosnia, a calling to defend and speak for those who cannot defend themselves, to see God in all people regardless of religion, ethnicity, gender or sexuality. I am no saint, I still struggle with my anger not always using it to effect change or righteously but by hurting people. I have learnt to reflect on the implications that my anger can have, I have learnt that reconciliation is crucial in this world. I have learnt that an ordinary person has the ability to influence this world; that we neither need to make a time to kill, nor kill time whilst atrocities are happening but through prayer and action we can bring about change.

To do so requires courage, the composer of Psalms 46 comments that bows must be broken and spears shattered[1]. The prophet Micah calls for the remoulding of weaponry into tools of agriculture[2]. These actions require someone to undertake them, they won’t happen by themselves. The German theologian Moltmann, himself a prisoner of war during the 1939- 1945 war, said, “Top level discussions between privileged persons usually do very little to relieve the suffering of ordinary people.”[3]

Jesus himself preached and undertook radical action to encourage and demonstrate that justice has to come from the people[4]. Mahatma Ghandi once said, “be the change you want to see in the world” [5]  and Volf a Croatian theologian wrote, “the kingdom of God enters the world through the back door of servants’ shacks, not through the main gate of the masters’ mansions”.[6] We are called and ordered to undertake and act for justice. And that is what my faith is about today.

 It is about standing up for what you believe to be right, even if it seems to cost you everything. It is about placing yourself between the bully and the bullied even if this makes you the target. My faith isn’t perfect, there are dark times when I find it hard to conceive there is a God, let alone believe in it/him/her. These are normally times when I am facing the bizarreness of first world living, when people become so bound up in doctrine and dogma that they forget the golden rule – To do unto others as you would have done unto yourself. When politicians, faith leaders and the press can become so obsessed with their own agendas (which to be fair is quite often all about keeping the thinking person in a box and thus not questioning what the leadership are up to) that they fail to see the world beyond their own briefcase or prayer book or paper. Likewise those who sit in the pews and are only concerned with the bricks around them are no better. Yes there is a place for our own needs, but surely issues about who sleeps with who, or if a child can receive communion before some man in purple says so, are irrelevant if the world we live in is teetering on the brink of a war that will take thousands of lives, a climate disaster that may see millions displaced and new diseases that are effectively a plague time bomb.

 

I recently preached a short sermon that included these words, "in Christianity the practical definition of love is best summarised by Thomas Aquinas, who defined love as "to will the good of another," or to desire for another to succeed. This is the explanation of the Christian need to love others, including their enemies. As Thomas Aquinas explains, Christian love is motivated by the need to see others succeed in life, to be good people."
And thinking about those vivid experiences of twenty years ago and some since then, I come to the conclusion tonight that, yes "to will the good of another" is where I am at. On this Sunday in September as people mourn those murdered this day, as others await the referendum on Thursday, I am thankful for those I served with for both guiding me and being alongside me. I think of those who were slaughtered in the genocide of twenty years ago and since in wars and conflicts around this globe and I reaffirm my commitment to the creed I believe in, that all people are equal, even if this means  I will be in exile and excluded by some.

---

[1] Ps 46:9

[2] Micah 4:3

[3] Selvanayagam, I (1995:3). A Dialogue on Dialogue: Reflections on Interfaith Encounters. Madras, CLS Press.

[4] Lk 4:16-30

[5] Indian Philosopher 1869 -1948

[6] Volf, M (1996:114). Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville, Abingdon Press.

A bit of a fixer-upper

This is an adaptation of the short reflection I gave this morning at chapel. Sadly the Frozen reference wouldn’t have worked with the congregational age range today so I left it out. However - who else has managed to work Trolls and Thomas Aquinas into a sermon!!




Romans 13:8-10

8Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. 9The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbour as yourself.” 10Love does no wrong to a neighbour; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.



Love is such a powerful word that has so many connotations and meanings. It can be a force for good and a means by which great deeds are done. Yet sometimes it feels so hard to love people particularly when we are in pain or frightened. Here in the hospital we are quite often thrown together with people who become our neighbours quite simply because of where our bed is or because we share an illness. And the call to love your neighbour as yourself can seem just a step too far when you are out of your comfort zone and away from those who love you. Yet it is in these times and in situations we can truly fulfill the law that St Paul was talking about in today’s reading.




Likewise there are times when we are out of our comfort zone that loving someone is not so much a fulfillment of the law but that which just comes naturally. I think of soldiers I served with during the war in Bosnia who acted with such love and compassion for those we were trying to protect. A love that could potentially have cost the soldiers their lives. I think of those here in this hospital who despite their own pain and fear, show love to the young doctor or newly qualified nurse, the patient who has no family who for the time they are on the ward becomes a part of another patient’s family, included in visits and deliveries of sweets or newspapers.




In Christianity the practical definition of love is best summarised by St. Thomas Aquinas, who defined love as "to will the good of another," or to desire for another to succeed. This is the explanation of the Christian need to love others, including their enemies. As Thomas Aquinas explains, Christian love is motivated by the need to see others succeed in life, to be good people.




I think there is no finer way to sum up all of the above than in the wise words of the Trolls of Arendelle…






We’re not sayin' you can change him
‘Cause people don’t really change
We’re only saying that love's a force
That's powerful and strange
People make bad choices if they’re mad
Or scared, or stressed
Throw a little love their way
(Throw a little love their way)
And you’ll bring out their best
True love brings out their best!

Everyone’s a bit of a fixer-upper
That’s what it’s all about!
Father!
Sister!
Brother!
We need each other
To raise us up and round us out
Everyone’s a bit of a fixer-upper
But when push comes to shove

The only fixer-upper fixer
That can fix up a fixer-upper is

True! true!
True, true, true!
Love (True love)
Love, love, love, love, love
Love! (True love!)
True...




No matter why we are in this chapel today, each one of us, no matter of our ills, worries or fears, has the potential to fulfill each day that most important of laws, to love one another. For it is in this way each of us will bring love to this world, this place and to and for one another.

Wanted someone not gay/bi or straight, neigher lay or ordained, enquiries within!

I posted a status on Facebook which seemed to have galvanised the troops into a series of responses -

"Dr W has said very strongly that I need to talk to someone about my disintegrating faith & my broken heartedness about all things vocation. But she has also clearly stated the someone should not be gay/straight/bi, neither ordained nor lay, and definitely no one I'm likely to snot if they mean to me. Does anyone here translate spaniel as Poppy seems my best bet!"


Thanks troops you all very lovely, if not slightly bonkers. The main point of my status was the hilarity which Dr W's requirements caused. However on a serious note thank you for the lovely messages. I have a fantastic spiritual director who I trust immeasurably and a great team leader at work. My frustrations with the church denominations will, I have no doubt continue ad infinitum. A church which markets itself as the church of the state, should in my humble opinion play by the rules, or in this case The Law as we in the real world like to call it. But hey as it has successfully discriminated against women for a few hundred years, who knows how long it will be before us weather causing, genocide raising gays are allowed to ooh I don't know, not break the law of the land and get married in a church.

 As for getting married and being a vicarette well, the bookies have better odds of me being elected president of Russia. Them on t'other side of the coin who are obsessed in worshiping gay instead of God are not any better, but to be honest and here is the crux of the whole thing - kids are being slaughtered across this globe as I sit here typing this wittering. They are being blown apart and those that survive the bombs and missiles will I imagine die a slow death from infection because with no electricity or fresh water there will be no way of sterilising equipment and storing drugs. But hey who cares about that sort of thing when the civilised (and I use that term very loosely) world can pull each other to pieces about who sleeps with who in their own beds.

If I thought for one instance that people would stop killing children across the globe if I didn't share my be with the lovely Dr W, I would say fine, bunk beds it is! But that is never going to happen because people are slaughtering kids because of many things not because of who I choose to love. However as a loving couple we can give so much back to a world of hate and pain,


we can be the ripple makers in this world and be a part of something that says it doesn't matter who you are, or what you believe, we are human and we are humanity in the flesh.

A final thought (stolen ruthlessly from my boss at work): Everyone has spiritual experiences, for everyone is spiritual. Some people then go on to make a religion out of these experiences. Very understandable. Tidies them up. Puts them in a box. Instead of saying, "Here are my experiences" they say "Here is my religion." All boxed and sorted. The trouble with boxes, however, is that they tend to be airless and things inside get stale. Religions can very easily become boxes, and places of airless decay. You are spiritual. May religion serve you. Not kill you.

Out of the mouths...

This evening I was having some rare 1-2-1 time with my daughter, her little brother had gone to bed and was asleep in under 5 minutes, so I took Elsa down stairs with me. I gave her a chair to sit on whilst I finished off some baking. She has a sheet to fill in for her move to Year 1, so I read out the questions one at a time and she pondered and then answered me. One questioned asked who her friends were in reception. Elsa rattled off what seemed to me to be the whole class. I said we could probably write that she thinks of all her class chums as friends but who did she play with or go to when upset. She listed a few names which we agreed to write down. Then she said a little shyly and of course "X is my boyfriend". Having gripped the bench whilst taking a sharp intake of breath, I said, "sorry, what?" Elsa again said "X is my boyfriend. Well he will be one day." Whilst I was working out my next move, she then said, "of course I might have a girlfriend, like you and mummy are girlfriends, which would be nicer, but I guess what really matters in all of this is, that I fall in love with someone who falls in love with me, it doesn't matter if they are a boy or a girl".

And in that instant I wished my daughter was standing up in front of the General Synod having the discussion with me in front of them, because there is more wise, genuine love in that child, than in most of the adults I know. In the book Through the eyes of a child: New insights in theology from a child's perspective,  there is a section which reflects on the voices of children in the wilderness years, how "the thinking and practice apparent in conventional religious circles usually suggested children's spiritual resources were deficient in comparison with those of adults - until they had learnt and internalised the prayers, the practices and the beliefs of the tradition".

I couldn't be further from this thinking if I chopped off my own head and offered it for use as the football for the world cup final tomorrow night!! This 5 year old daughter of mine, has shown me (yet again) such grace, unconditional love and wisdom that I feel blessed to have her ministering to me. Ministering to a minister in exile, because of the adults in this world whose obsession with the practices and beliefs of tradition, override that most basic commandment 'to love'.

I sat down with Elsa and we shared a bowl of grapes together and then I snapped a piece of chocolate in  half and we ate that together in silence. She then said, "I love you mummy and I love our chats." As one who is exiled from the table because of standing by that commandment 'to love', this grape and chocolate spontaneous Eucharist tonight was quite possibly the most soul  nourishing communion, I have ever received.
May we all become like children and thus enter the kingdom of heaven.

On Children
 Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Slow to bless and quick to chide

Show me an old fashioned and probably mostly unused English Hymnal and I will say without hesitation 470 please. The hymn in question was one of my favourites when I was growing up and as a chorister was probably sung more in the wedding season than any other! The words of the hymn are here:


Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
to his feet thy tribute bring;
ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
evermore his praises sing:
Alleluia, alleluia!
Praise the everlasting King.

Praise him for his grace and favor
to our fathers in distress;
praise him still the same for ever,
slow to chide and swift to bless:
Alleluia, alleluia!
Glorious in his faithfulness.

Father-like, he tends and spares us;
well our feeble frame he knows;
in his hand he gently bears us,
rescues us from all our foes.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Widely yet his mercy flows.

Angels, help us to adore him;
ye behold him face to face;
sun and moon, bow down before him,
dwellers all in time and space.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Praise with us the God of grace.

What I love most about this hymn are the words, within in each verse is a nugget that could be taken away and used. Used as a frightened daughter of an alcoholic mother who was the exact opposite of 'slow to chide and swift to bless', 'ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven' when having had to leave the military I found myself alone, penniless and in a really bad place. 'Well our feeble frame he knows; in his hand gently bears us' words that in the most awful of times I could hold onto that no matter how alone I felt or indeed feel, I am being held.

But in the last day those words have changed a little for me, for I realised that the Church in which I had sung those words and found comfort in them, was capable of  'swift to chide and slow to bless' and that the foes the Church needs to be rescued from is its own inability to 'praise...the God of grace.'

I naively expected the church to drag its cumbersome disciplinary feet for sometime about how they were going to 'deal' with a priest who committed such a terrible act as to get married to the person they loved. But no it seems in a world that is teeming with acts of genocide and in a time when half of the world's refugees are children, the church decided to flex it's waning muscles by disciplining a man whose vocation it is to walk alongside those in distress, who in his ministry as a hospital chaplain gently bears those whose feeble frames are failing. Why? Did he break the law? No, he simply married the person he loves.

Instead of bowing down in front of the church and doing the bidding of a bunch of men (because perish the thought a woman should wear purple and a silly hat), he chose to follow love. From the day of his marriage to the day of his license being removed was less than two months.
In a direct contrast the abuse of children in Chichester diocese by 2 priests was carried out over nearly 2 decades and it wasn't until 2013 the Church grown ups apologised for their failing to stop it happening.

When I wrote about my decision to step away from the Church of England after the Archbishop seemed to blame gays for the death of innocent Africans, and let's not forget that wonderfully entitled 'Pastoral guidance on same sex marriage' which to be fair was anything but pastoral, I honestly believed we had hit the bottom of the barrel. That the church of England couldn't honestly get any lower, but it seems they have drilled the bottom out of the barrel and are now merrily digging away with their hands to get even lower. I also naively thought that outside of the church they couldn't hurt me anymore, but they got me with that one - so I turn back to the words I began with, because they are not owned by the church, but owned by those who believe in a loving God, 'Well our feeble frame he knows; in his hand gently bears us'

and because I always come up as a prophet/activist in those ridiculous personality tests, a re-vamped verse of 470 -

Angels help us to ignore them;
God shows us love face to face;
sun and moon, bow down before him,
dwellers all (gay, straight, married, single, divorced, widowed, childless) in time and space
Allelulia, alleluia!
Praise with us the God of Grace (and give us just a little bit more of it in these trying times).

For those of us who are tonight pushed further into exile and a time of wandering alone, may the peace of God which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God.

Thinking about Pentecost and my fab dad's birthday

 

Acts 2:1 – 21           

Theme  - “Extraordinary Power”

When I was a little girl, I remember coming to meet my dad off his naval ship which was in dry dock at the Swan Hunter yard on the Tyne. It was eerily quiet waiting at the top of the hill with my sister, when suddenly there was a screeching siren and out of nowhere thousands, literally thousands of men appeared and came up the road out of the gates and onto the streets. The noise was incredible, the language colourful and the energy extraordinary. My dad as usual appeared about 10 minutes after the mob had disappeared with his ear-defence still firmly clamped onto the top of his head. He had missed the siren as he had been in the depths of the ship, he had missed the noise of the crowd of men coming up the hill, all talking in their own accents and dialects but he still had his own energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he came up to meet us. My mind often wanders to that scene when I read the story of Pentecost, the wind, the fire, the noise, the energy, the extraordinariness of the whole thing. I guess though the clear difference between the Swan Hunter experience and the  reading  from the book of Acts that we will hear later on, is that only I and a select few have my memory of that day, where as in what happened on that Pentecost day launched not a ship but a Church, and millions of people knew and still know the story of the Holy Spirit’s extraordinary power. Amen.

 

Talking of launching ships and special days - Happy Birthday to my dad, who in a few days celebrates (in a grumpy dad not celebrating kind of way) his birthday. Thank you dad for not only launching the daughter ship, but standing by like a cross between a pilot launch and a tug boat, to guide me through the storms and the deceptive calms of the ocean that is life.

You make me feel like dancing...

Anyone who knows me will know that the Captain doesn't dance, and she certainly doesn't disco dance. However there are times when one has to boogie for the greater good! And that is exactly why on Saturday the 17th of May instead of hiding in my garden with a cold coke and paddling children, I was, with several hundred other folks marching to the sound of the English Disco Lovers, through the middle of the Toon. Why, what and WHO? I hear you ask!

 

The English Disco Lovers (EDL nice) tagline is 'gyrate not hate' and they are a mixed bunch of people who counter the violence, vileness and thuggish behaviour of the English Defence League with good old fashioned cheesy pop. The EDL (boo) are an assorted bunch of people from seemingly all over the country who seem to believe it is their given right to discriminate, spread hatred and fear and generally stir up all sorts of nastiness all in the name of this our Country.

 

Now call me a bluff old traditionalist and a bit of a throw back to the days when the words: honour, courage and loyalty, were the sub-headings in the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst handbook but, I don't think scaring families of Asian origin, chanting hate filled venom and targeting places of worship with violence, abuse and yes wee-wee, are in anyway honourable, courageous or loyal. In fact I would go so far as to say they are despicable acts of hooliganism that are cruel, hateful and demeaning to those of us (the majority of sane people ) who not only love this country but think that this country is loved, and shows love to those who live in this country, regardless of race, creed, colour, religion, gender, sexuality.

 

When I signed to the colours of Her Majesty The Queen some 22 years ago, it wasn't with an oath to only protect Christians, or whites, or those of pure English blood. I didn't receive the Queen's Commission some 16 years ago with her implicit instructions to only look after the chosen few, no, By Her Majesty's Command - my Loyalty, Courage and Good Conduct were to be the tools of my service to this country. I add this paragraph into this blog especially for the toerags who strutted round Newcastle yesterday as a part of a 'defence league' yet I doubt had the backbone to take the oath and stand the line, defending this our country. For those of them who chanted that it was in my name, no, no it wasn't, it wasn't in my name or in the name of Her Majesty's armed forces.

 

Back to the disco then: with friends some of whom had dodgy taste in disco - fashion, we gathered in the city and then with an extremely good hum
oured (and certainly by the end of the day, a very dehydrated) police escort, we marched (slightly inaccurate - more like a cross between a sashay and a bimble) around a given route, pausing at the Grey's Monument to heard rom a variety of speakers, sadly some teenager loose with a megaphone and bucketful of claptrap rather ruined any hope of hearing the grown ups speaking their wisdom to us, but it did give me an opportunity to read the inscriptions on the monument:

 

THIS COLUMN WAS ERECTED IN 1838
TO COMMEMORATE
THE SERVICES RENDERED TO HIS COUNTRY BY
CHARLES EARL GREY K.G.
WHO, DURING AN ACTIVE POLITICAL CAREER OF
NEARLY HALF A CENTURY
WAS THE CONSTANT ADVOCATE OF PEACE
AND THE FEARLESS AND CONSISTENT CHAMPION OF
CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY.
HE FIRST DIRECTED HIS EFFORTS TO THE AMENDMENT
OF THE REPRESENTATION OF THE PEOPLE IN 1792,
AND WAS THE MINISTER
BY WHOSE ADVICE, AND UNDER WHOSE GUIDANCE,
THE GREAT MEASURE OF PARLIAMENTARY REFORM
WAS AFTER AN ARDUOUS AND PROTRACTED STRUGGLE
SAFELY AND TRIUMPHANTLY ACHIEVED
IN THE YEAR 1832.

and on the opposite side of the pedestal

AFTER A CENTURY OF CIVIL PEACE,
THE PEOPLE RENEW
THEIR GRATITUDE TO THE AUTHOR
OF THE GREAT REFORM BILL.
1932.

How moving to stand under the shadow of this great man who so many years ago stood with courage in adversity to champion civil and religious liberty, whilst watching the people of the city today standing and sashaying together, in a bid to counter the evil that is discrimination, and hatred. How sad that so many years on, hatred and discrimination do still exist in our society, that they have not died out but seem in some places and some peoples minds to be their single purpose and drive.


This was certainly the impression the EDL (boo) gave as they beat their chests and huffed and puffed their way into their static demonstration across the police line from the cheesy disco music and even cheesier placards (sighted 'Down with this sort of thing', 'Racists smell' and ‘Careful now’!). There is a lot wrong with this country (take for example not our entry in the Eurovision Song Contest – but our fascination and following of this bizarre competition) but and it is a but, there is such a lot to be proud of. Proud of/ and for all of us, not just a select few who believe that they are in some way better than the rest of us just because they are white and allegedly Christian (don’t even get me started on the whole Christian rant). The thing that for me that we should be proud about is that we are a country that has for all time, “been a constant advocate for peace and a fearless and consistent champion for civil and religious liberty”. We are a country that is stronger standing together no matter what creed, colour or ethnicity people come from. In this fast moving world, stability and unity are vital, please don’t let us fall apart and become a nation that instead of funky synchronised disco movers we become renowned as a nation of dad dancers (sorry dad!).

Come on England
These things they are real and I know
How you feel
Now I must say more than ever
Things round here have changed
I say, too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye-aye
(With thanks to Dexys Midnight Runners)

Family impressions

Families... Families are many things to many people. There are I believe many different models and forms. Each is different both in shape and in its dynamics. That is because each of us are different and unique, so it stands to reason that every family in the world is different.
I have been reflecting on families this Holy week. Families out and about on school holiday get-aways, families sitting by the bedside of loved ones in the hospitals I serve. Families where there is break up and unhappiness. Families where members have literally disappeared, such as the Malaysia airlines flight and the South Korean Ferry disaster.
I once heard tell that in the bible there are so many different models of family (I can't remember the exact number) and I guess that is right, because who can actually define what a family has to look like.
My family has changed over the years, I suppose all of our families do, we grow up, we meet people along the journey who join us. Sadly some of these relationships are transitory and we lose people or make an active decision to walk away from people who are destructive. But each connection we make, each person we call family leaves an impression on us. Sometimes the impression is one that reminds us of the danger signs and calls us to proceed with a little caution, but thankfully impressions are also reminders and mind-jogs of the good in our family, our friends and ourselves.

I am blessed in having had people in my life whose impression have and still do offer to me goodness, happiness, wisdom and a fair share of fun. As I ponder on these folks and their contribution to who I have become and continue to become, I wonder, what impression do I leave on others? Not a "I hope I made a good impression and that they like me" kind of thing, but a do I leave hope and love with people? Extending this I wonder, what kind of impression does my family leave on people?

I am certain after the antics of my children this week some people will forever believe that the Happy Ever After Fairy and Batman can pop up in the most strange places - The Crown Jewels, the Natural History museum and the Good Friday walk of witness. Everyone needs something to smile at, (Beefeaters included) and they certainly caused a lot of smiles on their travels. I wonder if also in a small way, Batman telling the whole carriage on the train that he loves his mummies, made an impression.

You see I don't think my family is a threat to society or to the institution of marriage. I think it is just one family amongst thousands. A family which currently includes Batman and the Happy Ever After Fairy, but tomorrow may have the 'coming down off Easter Eggs' Monsters. A family that happens to have 2 mummies, 1 daddy, 3 Grandpas, 2 grandmas, and an awesome host of aunties, uncles, cousins and godparents.

We are unique as a family yet we are the same as other families. One day, I believe, I wont have to write cynical grumpy letters and blogs to authority figures and groups who believe my family leaves no impression of worth or goodness in the world. On this day, this day of hope in the Christian calendar, I am thankful for my family in its uniqueness and in its impression making. Tomorrow I will be thankful as I was thankful yesterday, and will continue to be so.

So whatever your family looks like, whoever your family is made up of; those gone before us, those to come, those we mourn and those we miss, may this day, this night and onward be one of hope, one of love and one that leaves impressions upon others. Because the person whose resurrection, Christians celebrate today, certainly had a family make up that made an impression on the world.

May the blessings of love, hope, goodness, wisdom and fun, be with you and yours this Easter and always.

Marriage pondering

 I have tried not to write a note but have been pondering on this matter for some time now, firstly because it is topical and secondly because I have been asked to speak about it, to a group in a couple of weeks. Probably they will be mostly hurling rocks at me so I thought I would put my thoughts down on here first, because until technology gets even better, you cant throw a rock at via facebook!!
I think God is weeping at gay marriage. There I said it! God is weeping at gay marriage.
I think God is weeping at the gay marriage debates and arguments and here is why....
Because tonight in Syria children will go to sleep frightened that chemical weapons will be used against them in their beds.
Because tonight children in Iraq and Afghanistan will go to sleep wondering if when they go to school tomorrow if someone will blow them up.
Because tonight in Africa as the darkness falls, children will be bitten by mosquitoes, contract malaria and more than likely die from a preventable disease.
Because tonight a child will die of dehydration in any one of a number of countries where that most basic of needs, clean water, is not available,
Because tonight female children who have been married off, when they are 15 or younger will die in child birth.
Because tonight children in Byker, Walker, the West End and numerous other inner city deprivation areas will go to bed hungry because the food banks they rely on are running out of supplies.
Because tonight a male child will hang himself because of being bullied.
Becaue tonight sibling children will sit together terrified of the noise of domestic violence occuring in their home, wondering when the punching parent will weave their way into their bedroom.
God is weeping at gay marriage not because it is the cause of these things, but because the cure to  these things is being delayed, while politicians, religious leaders and those who are expending their energy campaigning to stop two people loving one another are not using their energy for the good.
God is weeping at gay marriage, and so do I.

John and Nelson

This morning I wanted to pay an all too brief look at two men, two prophetic activists. One called John and the other Nelson.

In our reading we heard the words of John the Baptist, strong words, real fire and brimstone preaching, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

His message was so strong that people listened, religious leaders came to hear him speak, others walked long distances to witness his ministry. His arrival marked the end of a 400 year prophetic silence and he wasn’t afraid to make enemies.

During Nelson Mandela’s defence at his trial in 1964, instead of responding to the charges, Mandela chose to make speech that was to electrify the courtroom, South Africa and the world.

It ended with the words: "I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities."

"It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."

At the end of that trial, Mr Mandela was sentenced to life imprisonment and he was taken from public view for some 27 years. It became an offence to speak his words, to display his picture, yet those words spoken then, became the manifesto for the anti-apartheid movement. I had the great privilege of visiting the Apartheid museum when I was working in South Africa, I watched the speech on a screen surrounded by the visible evidence of the horrors of oppression and hate, and I was deeply moved by this great man’s dignity and strength, even when facing a potential death sentence.

John the Baptist similarly spoke what he knew in his heart to be true. He must also have been aware of the danger his words and actions would put him in, yet he faced down the oppressors and those who were abusing their powers and thus abusing the people given in to their care. Yet he spoke the words that needed to be spoken to them whilst also baptising those who repented and looked to him for guidance and leadership.

These two men separated in history by time, yet whose names we know today and I believe we will know many years from now. Men who not only spoke up for what they believed was right but also dedicated their lives to changing the world and people around them, no matter what the ultimate cost would be to them.

Today we remember the prophetic lives of John the Baptist and Nelson Mandela, and not only should we remember them but we should remind ourselves of their call to us to use our freedom to change ourselves and the world around us, remembering in the words of Mr Mandela, that “to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others”.

The power of Hope

Sermon Sunday 10th November 2013




Luke 20: 27 -38 – The power of Hope

The College of St Hild & St Bede, Durham.

 My children’s great grandfather, Cyril was a prisoner of war in Changi Jail, Singapore, held for a long four years by the Japanese during World War 2. It was a cruel and brutal regime. Cyril’s story was moving beyond measure, he was a clergyman in the RAF and whilst in the camp he pastorally cared for those held alongside him. He baptised, celebrated the Eucharist with them, and he conducted their funerals, many many funerals. Yet there is another half of the story, because back home, Cyril’s wife did not know if she was still his wife or had become his widow. She knew he had been captured but had heard nothing else for 3 years. On the liberation of the camp, the London Illustrated News published a photograph of a confirmation service at the camp, for the many men who had been prepared for confirmation during their imprisonment, and the gaunt RAF chaplain who had ministered to them.  A member of the family took the paper to his wife and said, “is that not Cyril?” It was not until then that she could believe she was still a wife and not yet a widow.

Today we remember those who have died in wars and conflicts over the years. Those who went away and never came home. We remember those who have come home, but are not the men and women who went away to serve in theatres of war and conflict across the globe. And today we also remember those left behind. The widows, which in this time of modernity includes men. When we hear the term widow it is easy to conjure up images of Royal Wootton Bassett and the numerous repatriation ceremonies, coffin after coffin being driven through the streets. And in the next few days Sgt Maj Ian Fisher will be repatriated home, and we also remember those who were wounded alongside him some receiving life changing injuries. Yet there are other widows. Those from the world wars for whom there was no body to bring home, because bodies literally sank into the mud of the battlefields. For those buried as unknown in graves across the world. For those like Cyril’s wife who live in a limbo as a widow yet with the faintest hope that those listed as missing in action, would be found and returned home. Sergeant Bergdahl of the US infantry is one such soldier, he has been listed as missing in action since 2009 and is believed to still being held by the Taliban. The recent book and film, “Salmon fishing in the Yemen” tackles this very grief and uncertainty, well. There are those whose loved ones return and yet either through physical, mental or spiritual injury are changed beyond recognition, and so their partners are bereaved of the person who went away, widows in a very real sense.

 

And today on this remembrance Sunday the gospel reading draws our attention to another widow. We are told that the Sadducees, who were a well educated, sophisticated, influential and wealthy sect at the time of Jesus, give to Jesus a sort of riddle  -there’s a woman who marries seven times –and not just seven times, but seven brothers, in succession. Each brother dies, leaving her a widow. Last of all the woman dies also. Therefore, in the resurrection, whose wife does she become? For all seven had her as a wife.” We cannot believe that they were genuinely interested in the question – they were using it as a riddle to trap Jesus – there was no right answer. How much less then would they have been interested in the woman at the centre of their question?  Widows in Jesus time had little status or security - she was a piece of property to be married on, seven times. The Jewish law which instructed a man to marry his dead brother’s widow was partly to protect the widow from destitution, but more to protect the property, including heirs, of the dead man.   The Sadducees question not only tried to trick Jesus into an un-answerable riddle, it also showed no compassion or thought of any sort for the object of the riddle – the widow.  Jesus’s response gives the fictional widow back her humanity, her importance as an individual: “Those who are considered worthy of a place in that age….are like angels and are children of God”.  Jesus reminds them that in the age to come, our lives will be lived on a completely different principle, in a dimension that we can’t imagine. We know it won’t be the same as what we know on earth, we can’t say for sure what it will all be like in heaven – but we know that we won’t be disappointed.

 

I wonder if there were widows there, listening to Jesus’ words. How did they feel? Were there some feeling bereaved, frightened, alone? In their grief, did they hope they would be cared for and loved again? What hope might they have found in these words of Jesus, words pointing to a God who would keep promises and enact justice beyond the boundaries of this world.

St Paul says “Now we see in a mirror, dimly, but when the end comes, “we will see face to face. Now, I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

The Christian dispensation acknowledges that we do not know, we do not have control, we are not in charge. But what we can have, in the worst of times is hope. Hope that beyond death it is not simply the continuation of what now is.

In my time as a military police officer I have experienced violence and conflict around me that has made me think I might very soon be face to face with the answers. I have been frightened beyond measure and enraged at the injustice and brutality of humanity. I was a witness to the genocide taking place in Bosnia when I served there in the early nineties, and in those darkest of times I had to hope that what was happening around us would stop and that there would be a better world when the fighting ended. In this last week I have been transported back 19 years ago with the news of the discovery of a mass war grave that has a potential 1000 bodies in north – west Bosnia. 1000 people buried, countless relatives left wondering if they are wives or widows. Have those left behind kept hope?

 Over the last ten years I have attended the funerals of my regimental friends and family. I have spoken to those ‘widows’ left behind, I have been to see friends with life changing injuries and spent time with their widows. What have I learned, what have I seen?

I have learnt that widows have hope. It comes in many forms and guises; some hope that those they loved did not give their lives in vain. There is hope that those killed and maimed in action have left behind a world which is slightly better because of their sacrifice. There are hopes that injuries of body, mind and soul will heal, that one day the person who went to war will hopefully return. For some their hope is in their children, for others there is only the hope that they will meet again with their loved ones beyond this world in a better place.

This college has its own litany of hope. The hope of the young Bede  men who marched from here to serve in the first and second world wars, a hope that they were contributing to tackling an evil shadow in the world. Those members of the Bede college company of the Durham Light Infantry  who died at the battle of Gravenstafel Ridge in 1915, when gas was used for one of the first. Again serving and dying to try and make the world a better place. Hild-Bede students have fought and died in combat in Iraq, and today you as a college remember all of your own who have and who continue to serve in our armed forces.

In the darkest of times, at those moments in individuals lives when it seems all is lost, even if just in a glimmer we can see hope, then we catch a glimpse of the knowing fully that St Paul spoke of.

I return to Cyril, in the blackest of places as a prisoner of a brutal regime, preparing men for confirmation in the hope that the war would end with their freedom. Who in his ministry offered to desperate frightened soldiers a glimmer of a world in which life will rise out of the ashes of horror and destruction. It is worth noting that when Cyril, much later in life, became a bishop himself, he had his wartime medals melted down to make into his pectoral cross, the cross being to Christians the ultimate symbol of hope, of life overcoming death.

This remembrancetide, let us remember the dead but also let us remember the power of hope.

In response to the pastoral (not entirely sure it is this) guidance on same sex marriage

Where and how does one begin to write when still reeling from the pastoral guidance issued yesterday by the bishops. Having spent the whole night awake and swinging between sobbing and total cold rage, I would have thought I would have some publishable thoughts by now, but all I can offer now is a stream of consciousness.

My first point is the ironic timing of the release of this statement. No one could have missed the not so anonymous love letter from the bishops to their people was couriered by cupid itself and landed on Valentines day – wow really thanks you shouldn’t have – no really you shouldn’t have! Secondly on the day that this guidance was issued (thus effectively shutting the door on people’s vocations and I am quite sure for some of us, the door on the denomination of our upbringing) the press was running an article about how Vicars are needed to fill the many vacancies in the church (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/feb/15/vicars-needed-church-england-fight?CMP=twt_fd ). Hmm, now I am not saying there is a full battalion of us gayers waiting in the ranks to fill the gaps, certainly at the minute we are far too busy making it rain in the south, but, I do have to wonder how many people discerning their call have this weekend realised that the church of England is not the place for them.

I’m not big into the gay thing, I don’t like having to mention it, I don’t like having to decide to out myself when I meet new people. I am very good at being gender neutral when I am with patients at work and they assume my wedding ring means there is a husband at home. My long suffering partner knows how uncomfortable I get being boxed and labelled as the gay ones and how I routinely discourage their (see done it again) touch in public. I have good reason to be a not-so-keen gay person. All it has ever seemed to bring is heartache and pain. My military career was cut short because of it, organised religion is not so keen on my sort either (I think maybe I’m not getting very good careers advice). When I left the military I came to the point when I believed that I was unlovable, unlovable and thus pointless. It wasn’t losing career, the friends, the lifestyle, that I could have dealt with. No, the tipping point came when I believed that I was not loved by God and could not be loved by God because I was and still am gay. I don’t bounce round the place flying rainbow flags here there and everywhere, because to be brutally honest it would be terrific to be straight, but I am not made like that. Because I’m not made like that I live with the tension of coming-out over and over again, with people hurling abuse at us in the street or writing on our car.  I have managed the tension between being gay and serving a church that condemns who I am, until this weekend.
You see this weekend, the bishops, the people in the ivory tower who write their pastoral messages and the ugly spectre of discrimination arrived in my in-box. This latest message that has the audacity to begin with, “We write as fellow disciples of Jesus Christ who are called to love one another as Christ has loved us”  and then promptly and with great precision dismantles people’s lives and love. In the midst of this dismantling I realised that the tension with which I have held my sexuality and my church has been torn apart. This letter closes the door on any hope for me as person of faith within organised religion. It closes the door on youngsters who are exploring their vocation and their sexuality. It drives love underground. It breeds fear and anxiety. It destroys people’s faith and belief  in a God who loves them, just as they are. This letter opens the door to fundamentalists and conservatives to drive out the unclean in their midst and do you know what, when they have driven us, the gays away, they’ll move on to the next group that doesn’t fit their view of the scriptures. You, the divorcees, the single parents, those who don’t sit with the right political views, you’ll be next. This isn’t a matter of the gays getting vocal and restless again. This is a matter of justice. It is a matter of saying “not in my name, this was not done in my name, which I am pretty sure is what Christ is saying today.” These are my thoughts today, thoughts of a hurting, bleeding Christian from what feels like that place of abandonment that is the cross. Tomorrow or in the days to come, I hope the tears will clear enough to see beyond the pain to an empty cross and the hope that brings

Don't blame us, blame the bad guys

So I thought I would take some time out from planning my next meteorological strike on the straights and have a break from orchestrating genocide in Africa to put my rainbow tainted fingers to the keyboard… again… well Call the Midwife and Musketeers has finished!

I do have to wonder what one has to do to get through to some folks – so let’s get the weather out of the way once again – Gay people do not control the weather, and seriously if we did, it would be rainbows and sparkles not sand, rain, fog and gloom – frankly dahlings it just wouldn’t look good.

Now on to the more serious note within this missive. Gay people are not responsible for the killing of African people. Indeed as astonishing as some may find this – some Africans are gay, I know what a shock! I have had simultaneously the delight and despair of working in Nigeria, Kenya and South Africa. Working within and for the gay communities as they campaign for access to HIV/AIDS medication, for policing agencies to recognise and protect their vulnerabilities and to dare to ask the mainstream churches  and theological colleges to engage with liberation theology that would be transformative for the lives of many.

I can hand on heart say that at no point on my travels to this most beautiful continent did I orchestrate slaughter, ethnic cleansing or even engage in hunting safari animals. I witnessed and received love and hospitality from people who had nothing to give and was ignored by those who wore the clerical attire of the Anglican communion.

What I further witnessed in Africa during my visits there was the fear of those who lived in hiding, I heard the stories of those beaten and victims of sexual violence because of their sexuality, and in some cases because of their gender. What I witnessed and heard testimony of was of violence and brutality metered out by majorities against minority groups of all sorts.

When I served in Bosnia during the genocide, I again watched and saw the result of inhumanity inflicted by humankind. I do not recall sexuality being an issue in the atrocities we witnessed. I recall it being brutal and life altering for those of us who served there. It was there I first became aware that in this flawed world of ours there are people and groups of people for whom violence and terrible destruction is an option.

Volf, a Croatian theologian, writing about his experience of the war in his country, in the book Exclusion and Embrace, wrote ““Most wars feed on hate, and the masters of war know how to manufacture it well. It is the proportions of the Balkan hate and its rawness right there on the fringes of what some thought to be civilised Europe that causes us to stagger.”

This statement,  I guess is a grown up way of saying what I am trying to articulate in the paragraph above it. People who are gay and in love are not the cause of violence in Africa or elsewhere. People are the cause of violence across the world. For the Archbishop of Canterbury to infer that gay marriage will cause death and slaughter of Christians, is in my humble uneducated opinion a deeply offensive and quite simply naïve standpoint.

Gustavo Gutierrez cited in the Cambridge Companion to Liberation Theology states that, “liberation theology has its origins in the reality of the ‘premature and unjust death of many people’”. (Rowland, 2007:3) I have learnt that my theology, my beliefs and values were radically shaped by my experiences in Bosnia. Prior to my tours there, my faith was naïve. I did not have any comprehension about the true extent of humankind’s ability to commit terrible sin. Now I do and because of this I now holdfast to a creed that says all people are equal and valued by God. I am not saying that ABC’s experience of a mass grave is in anyway less harrowing than my experience of genocide, but that as a man who holds a level of influence and media interest, he really ought to be condemning those who commit such violence and not cutting lose those who are in living in love. Because the last time I looked it was a gospel of love not a gospel of violence that was being preached by a radical bloke 2000 years ago, and who this church that the ABC leads, allegedly follows.

 

Come on ABC, don’t blame it on the sunshine, don’t blame it on the gay boogie, blame it on the bad guys.