The World of Doorman-Priest

Seeing things clearly

2011-10-17T19:54:00.000+01:00

Be for me a stronghold to which I may ever resort;

send out to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.

Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked,

from the grasp of the evildoer and the oppressor.

(Ps 71)

Says it all really.

Still getting it off my chest

2011-06-24T08:16:00.002+01:00

Sorry to continue with this theme. If you think it's too self indulgent just skip it. For me it's good therapy.

On reflection, a lot of the tension arose out of my sense that the Yorkshire Ministry Course was providing me with what the church needed and the church’s sense that it was not but without engaging with the college authorities to see whether the modules I was sitting could have a more overt Lutheran content. It struck me that my fellow students might well have benefitted from such an addition perspective.

As the only non-Anglican in the year group I was inevitably drawn into the timetable, processes and concerns of my Anglican friends as the year group progressed through the course towards ordination and many of the course’s activities were linked to that rhythm. I don’t think my church authorities fully appreciated this.

So much of what we did was linked to the fact of the Anglican ordinand’s service of ordination within a month of graduation and it was hard for me to distance myself from that and not to be influenced by and caught up in that rhythm.

One simple example is that of the selection and purchase of ordination stoles: there were regular visits to the course on college Wednesday evenings and at residentials by clerical outfitters. We all went. Should I have stayed in the library when everyone else was selecting their clerical apparel? (What? And miss the chance of seeing Dr. Bob trying on a berretta and a Canterbury cap?) I should not have bought stoles I was told. Too presumptuous. Where would that have left me in the session where those stoles were blessed? Sitting in the back row on my own? Should I have not attended those (non-optional) sessions relating to ordination and the first curacy? What should I have done about the graduation ceremony where the details of each graduate’s first curacy were included in the programme? Should I have asked for some variation? Perhaps I could have asked to receive my certificate privately and not as part of a public ceremony further isolating me from my peers. Should I have asked for the Ember Days list to be varied to reflect my unique position? How did my church expect me to feel during these sessions which were already charged with a heady mix of spirituality, group dynamic intimacy and emotion? How could I fail to be affected? How could I possibly opt out and separate myself from the rest of my group at this time?

Not one of the Vocations Committee came to that ceremony.

My church leadership were to all intents and purposes insensitive about these issues: they didn’t fully appreciate what the college were doing and they didn’t understand the course’s provision for its students in the run up to graduation. Neither did they understand the effects of these activities on me. Most significantly they did not take the trouble to engage with the college which I think is a huge failing of a Vocations Committee in a small denomination with few ordinands.

At the same time they would be critical of me for being influenced in my expectations and attitudes to ordination by the programmes the college were providing. “We don’t do things in the same way as the Anglicans.” Is no help when the people who are saying that see you maybe twice a year and are not offering meaningful support or alternative programmes and interventions to what is being offered weekly at college. It is quite hard - and certainly not at all helpful - to be told what you should not be thinking, doing, feeling and opting into in relation to ordination preparation “because we do things differently”, on the course you have been sent to, when no practical alternatives are offered. Lots of “don’ts” with no “dos” are no help at all.

There seemed to be no awareness of the difficulties these programmes of work and activities caused me when I had no idea when I would be ordained, and therefore no sensitivity, just criticism because I was influenced by them and had my expectations raised. “These are the things we don’t do.” Yes, but you’ve sent me on a course which does.

When I raised these issues I was reminded that I had not “been sent” on the course. “The Committee is in no position to recommend any programme of training.” How can you abrogate responsibility in this way? What a cop out. I am a mature adult with a family and a full time job heading for non-stipendiary ministry. The obvious questions from my point of view are:

a) You can't be ordained in any real church without the proper training so ...

b) Where else am I going to go for ministry training other than the regional centre which offers a part time course?

c) How have I reached this point if the church has not sponsored me and supported my studies? I was not an independent student.

It is preposterous to disclaim responsibility by saying “We didn’t send you”: mere semantics and laughable for a Vocations Committee to say “We said you could go on that course if you wanted to.” as if there was an alternative route to ordination.

No one wanted to take responsibility which is very convenient because that meant that no one could be held accountable: I “chose” to attend the course, which is odd because from YMC’s position I was a sponsored student as evidenced by the church paying my fees. No wonder I have felt dislocated from this process and felt that attempting to communicate with the Vocations Committee on the topic was like trying to knit with water. What a ludicrous position but one from which, nevertheless, the Vocations Committee would not depart.

Strangely, pointing these things out did me no favours.

“You don’t understand how we do things.” Clearly not. How about trying a bit harder with the explanation?

There was clearly resentment at the challenge that systems were not good and the committee have responded in a knee-jerk way that has been defensive, and that defensive reaction inevitably perhaps, has not been to acknowledge poor systems and therefore not to be proactive about analysing them with a view to improvement. In addition, my experience of this group is that they never move on: it’s all logged away to be trotted out against you at some future date. There is never a line drawn under a discussion and a fresh start although on more than one occasion I have felt lulled into such a false sense of security.

“Who is this upstart? Who does he think he is?”

This is not a collaborative venture. Those in authority have no investment in learning from the foot soldiers. There is no culture of taking feedback without feeling threatened (but a significant culture of offering punitive criticism). There is a clear division between the leaders and the led and the leaders are always right.

“But this is how we do it. This is how we’ve always done it and it has served us well so far.”

Has it? Has it really?

Given that the LCiGB corresponds in size to a small Anglican Deanery some form of 360% appraisal could work well. In a small denomination where, perhaps, some key characters have dominant roles and personalities – or entrenched behaviours and attitudes, there needs to be some way of assuring that the appropriate use of that authority is managed and that people are properly accountable. Authority has boundaries and poor personnel practices should not be tolerated.

The downside is that in a small denomination such as this you have to be brave or very secure in your position to challenge authority.

Reflections on bullying within the church.

2011-06-20T08:04:00.002+01:00

Below are my reflections of an event that happened two years ago. I mention it now because my cyber-friend Robert, an American Episcopalian Priest, warned me of the stages of bereavement. He was right: this has crept up on me of late and when I think and write about it I feel emotional and I feel sick in my stomach. I don't usually see myself as a victim and that description doesn't sit easily with me in comparison to what I know others have gone through and continue to go through at the hands of the churches. My situation is trivial in comparison I know. Nevertheless part of the healing process is to be able to talk about the hurt and to acknowledge it: there is therapy and a move towards wholeness and healing there.

So, back to October 2009: It has been a couple of months of limbo: I have graduated and attended Dr. Bob’s ordination in Sheffield and young Mike’s in York. It was great to celebrate with them and to meet up with the others as we turned out to support each other. I felt slightly sad nevertheless, because I have no idea when I will be ordained and this is becoming a pastoral matter. The church is not taking its pastoral responsibilities to me at all seriously. Key figures will say will it is but they will be deeply irritated at the suggestion. Those same figures will probably also claim that the church’s pastoral care of me is someone else’s responsibility. They are the prime movers in what is going on but they do not feel the need to be proactively pastoral.

Pastor ***** continues to be a great help but I don’t see why I should be his pastoral responsibility. It is just luck that we are friends – and fellow sufferers, united in our concern and distaste at how we feel we are being treated. My wife's new vicar, Steve, at St. Angst’s is also being a trouper as is James from St. Atrophy’s. As ever Dr. Bob, Hilda and Stuart, who graduated with me, are keeping up a prayerful support and the congregation at St. Small’s is beginning to ask difficult questions. I am struggling to explain to the many people who ask, what is going on.

It feels odd that I derive my support largely from those outside of my own church.

I am invited to meet the Examination Committee, chaired by the new presiding Bishop in Leeds on the day before my birthday. I am told very clearly that this will not be my final examination; it will be a meeting to plan for the future. I ask a number of times whether I need to prepare anything for the occasion and am reassured that it will be just an informal chat. There is no agenda, or if there is, I don't get a copy. I am in first and ***** will follow me. Bishop **** recommends that we both progress to the next stage: I should be ordained curate and ***** should progress from his curacy to be able to take charge of a congregation in his own right.

~ I am in a state of shock. That hour was probably one of the worst of my life. It started like this:

“Do you feel it is ethical to blog about your students?” This from my mentor.

I have discussed this with my Head Teacher and we have come to an agreement. I will never name the school. I will be vague, even misleading about its geographic location and I will change the names of pupils and those staff who wish. I will send drafts of school related posts to the Head and put copies on the staff notice board to give my colleagues the opportunity to challenge what I have written. While I might express frustrations I will not challenge, criticise or question school policies or the leadership team or the governors in their management of the school.

Let me repeat the question. “Do you think it is ethical to blog about your students?”

It went from bad to worse. I was accused of being arrogant for having contacted St. Angst’s about hosting my ordination and suggesting dates. Who did I think I was? The fact that I had done this after discussion with Bishop **** and with his blessing was clearly not known about, or was conveniently ignored.

My blog came in for much criticism and at one point I was instructed to take it down. “What might a Lutheran from Latvia say, after landing on your blog and discovering you had been to the Leeds Gay Pride in clericals? This could cause great damage to the church.” My defence that my blog clearly states that my views are my own and don’t represent the policy of any church or denomination was snorted at. I refused to take it down as I did not feel that this committee had the right to demand that I should. I offered the compromise that I would go back over it and remove posts which referred to life at St. Smalls.

“I can imagine a situation where people would feel uncomfortable talking in your presence because what they said might then appear on the blog.”

I think that’s a fair point, but Bishop ****, Pastor ***** and Pastor ***** all know that I host a blog; I show people what I am writing if their names appear in a post and several members of the congregation read it and one regularly comments. No one has expressed any concern to me other than to recommend that I be cautious. I think I have been.

“What is your blog for?”

It’s my reflective journal. I got used to writing a reflective journal when I was doing my counselling training. I share it online because the perceptions of others are helpful.

“It’s more like washing your dirty linen in public, especially when you are implicitly critical of our systems.”

Other people seem to find my blog helpful. Can you only find negative things in it?

“I don’t understand why someone would want the world to know their every thought. It smacks of attention seeking.”

No one’s forced to read it or to comment.

They are incredulous. I don’t see that my blog is much different to the blog that the presiding Bishop hosts. Actually it is: she regularly blogs about church life but I feel to point that out would not be wise. In fact, so much on the back foot am I, that I don’t say much at all.

"The Facebook Group, Ordain Jack Parkes." That must go.

That's not my page and I am not a member.

"But she's a friend of yours. You have influence."

I can ask. But it's not my page and she will do as she thinks best.

The reference my Head Teacher provided comes under the microscope. They have had this reference for the best part of two years and have never referred to it before. My Head had commented that on occasions I could become entrenched in my opinions. This was seen as a huge black mark by one member of the committee.

“I should want to pursue that.” I was told. Again I was too taken aback to reply. My Boss and I get on very well and he has been very supportive of me throughout this process: he didn’t sign up for a priest on his staff. It’s all about context: when I am defending my subject areas against the consequences of changes in policy and financial cutbacks, I will be entrenched. I don’t want our A Level teaching to stop because it is deemed economically unviable. I don’t want to have to manage a team of eighteen conscript teachers who have a free period or two that can’t be allocated to their main teaching subject but who are then given to me to run a GCSE Citizenship course in that time. Of course I will be entrenched in my defence of my subjects. I know exactly the occasions when I have been entrenched in my opinion with my Boss.

This goes on for an hour. Four of them and me.

At one point I ask, rather weakly (although I am rallying): Is there nothing positive in my references?

“Oh yes, there is much that is good.” I am told but nothing is elaborated. The script seems to be to concentrate on the negative – or perhaps more to the point, to infer a negative from some minor comments. After all that’s far more important than the positive even though the positive so significantly outweighs the negative that the negative is barely discernable. Nothing that was written by Dean Gustav in Tallinn was mentioned, very little of what my Head or Fr. John wrote in my final report from the Yorkshire Ministry Course, nothing from Bradford College or the Leeds Philharmonic Society, Nothing from James’ reference from St. Atrophy's or from my former vicar, Ray, at St. Angst’s, nothing from the congregation and staff at St. Small's. What’s going on here? This is character assassination. It’s also bullying.

Poor Fr. John is subsequently so concerned about how one thing he has said has been taken out of context that he feels compelled to write to the committee to clarify his remarks.

The report on my parish placement that I had written as an assignment for YMC, and of which I was very proud, was dismissed in one devastating comment: I had noted that the linguistic divide in mother-tongue speakers and immigrants and second generation Lutherans was an issue which needed to be tackled.

“Have you any idea how damaging that would be if it fell into the wrong hands?”

It was an essay for my course. Only you and the tutor for that module have a copy. I can’t see how it would fall into the “wrong hands”. I didn’t say.

“You don’t understand the sensitivity of this issue.”

“We feel your attitude to us is too challenging.”

Do you wonder when this is how you behave? I didn’t say. You’d prefer I was a doormat? I also didn’t say.

“We think your written approaches to us are often confrontational.”

And this isn’t? I didn’t say.

What I did say was: I find communication in this organisation very poor and you are reluctant to confront that. I hear one thing in Leeds and another thing from London. I feel like piggy in the middle. Do you wonder I get frustrated? I am tired of not knowing where I stand or what the time frame is.

“We are concerned that you may not approach conflict within your parish as pastor in an appropriate way.”

What? Like you in this meeting? I didn’t say. How dare you treat me this way while speculating how I might respond face to face when trying to resolve conflict? I should have said.

The upshot was that I should have a year to concentrate on my role as Lay Minister which would be much more closely monitored than before. We would meet in a year to discuss whether I should progress to my final examination. In addition, and the most embarrassing of all, I was to attend counselling to sort out my impatience and anger! I was mortified, so much so that I could never admit to anyone that I was being sent for counselling: I told my family and friends that it was spiritual direction.

Counselling. They felt I needed counselling! I could not have been more humiliated.

I was told I might not under any circumstances discuss these matters with anyone other than Bishop **** and my wife. These were matters of significant confidentiality. I kept to that for some time but have moved to a position where I no longer feel willing to collude with the sweeping under the carpet of bullying behaviour.

I went home. I didn’t feel I’d been able to process things well enough to talk in detail to my wife and I headed back to meet ***** in the pub after his meeting.

***** had also had a hard time at the hands of this committee. Where I was still shocked, he was angry. We swapped notes and commiserated with each other, both instantly breaking the vow of silence imposed on us.

The bottom line was that Bishop ****’s advice about both of us had been ignored. That tells us a lot about what his views stand for now he has retired. ***** said he was furious when they told him. What a slap in the face.

I had been told I didn't need to prepare anything for that meeting. That was a lie. I needed to prepare a defence.

Happy Birthday.

So the London Team parachute themselves in, ignore the advice and wishes of the Bishop Emeritus, the clergy, the Church Council and congregation of St. Small's, cause chaos, distress and resentment in their wake and return to London.

Job well done then.

"We're in charge now and you'd better know it."

And they accused me of arrogance.

I subsequently doubled the dose of anti-depressants I usually take.

I stayed away from St. Small's for about six weeks and wrote Bishop **** an eight page letter of complaint. It is unlikely that it was disseminated: the man has his own problems.

I realise now that I should never have returned. During the four weeks I am signed off work with severe depression I ponder whether my trust in these people can ever be restored. I also ponder their pastoral ineptitude: if they had genuine concerns is this really the best way that the meeting could have been conducted? Is a kangaroo court really the only way to express concerns or – and I’m going out on a limb here – could there not have been an alternative approach that dealt with areas of concern in a way that left me feeling good about myself and not on the edge of a breakdown? Something perhaps which also concentrated on the positive? Just a suggestion. What do I know? I’m not a Bishop.

A friend who is a solicitor specialising in Data Protection issues advises me that the church has ridden a coach and horses through the part of the Data Protection Act which talks about the balanced use of data held on an individual.

R.I.P. Doorman-Priest

2010-12-22T21:23:00.001Z

Doorman-Priest is no more. He has served his purpose. (No sexual or financial impropriety.) Do feel free to e-mail me: e-mail details on "My Profile"

Monbiot on snow and Global Warming

2010-12-21T10:41:00.000Z

Here we are in the depths of the big freeze - what would we Brits do if we couldn't moan about the weather? - and some of my American friends are still confusing weather with climate. In today's Guardian I came across That snow outside is what global warming looks like

"Unusually cold winters may make you think scientists have got it all wrong. But the data reveals a chilling truth."

Thought provoking .

Marlene's Nativity

2010-12-17T20:03:00.003Z

Last night was the Lord Mayor's Carol Concerts in Leeds Town Hall. This is an annual two-shift gig for the Leeds Philharmonic Chorus and it sort of marks the start of Christmas for me (although this year that siginificant event was last Saturday's Messiah concert - my first as a Tenor).

In the run up to the Carol Concert our Chorus Master told me that the Committee had been approached to see if anyone would be willing to do a reading - ideally witty and seasonal but not too overtly religious. Our Chorus Master told me that he had nominated me. Do you see what they did there?

Anyway twice last night to a combined audience of about 2,000 people I read the following - a little something from my own penmanship:

Now, take my friend Marlene: she's a very artistic type. You probably know the sort - dangly Trade Craft earrings, pencils and paint brushes pushed into her hair geisha - style: half-moon glasses precariously perched an the end of her nose and a pair of Doc Martens - one red and one green. ('I've another pair like this you know.')

She's a leading light in regional amateur dramatics with a name for her radical re-workings. Her trans-gender 'Phantom of the Opera' is still talked about in hushed tones…… in Dewsbury. Marlene is also a bit of a committee junkie, an inveterate organiser and with a reputation for not tolerating fools: (i.e. most other people she knows). So I wasn't particularly surprised when she agreed to the Church Councils' request to stage last year's Nativity.

So, the committee gathered in her large kitchen, all shaker style furniture and IKEA fittings - very Chapel Allerton. Oh, and she had an agenda. “To bring this story alive it has to be brought into the present. We must make it relevant!” And so she set about her task with relish - carrying the rest of us, I have to say, rather in the slipstream of her enthusiasm.

Her neighbour's daughter, Sigourney, was cast as Mary, notwithstanding the fact that at 14, she was pushing the boundaries of virginity somewhat.

“But she's ethnic. Don't you see she's perfect for the part: so 21st century marginalized.” and that was that. Marlene brooked no contradiction.

Marlene used her contacts at the University to cast the Wise Men who turned out to be Justin, Trevor ... and Brenda … and you probably remember that Marlene and Brenda have not been on civil terms since the unfortunate incident at the Turkish bath.

Well it won't matter' said Marlene, all hurt pride and a large gin. “No one will notice the difference: all they'll see is three moustaches – and that’s before the costumes are on.

The rest of the casting fell into place: the local Imam graciously declined the role of the Angel Gabriel. "Well you can take multiculturalism to the point of political correctness and then where would we all be? Answer me that?" observed Brenda. Terry, the local postman took his place in a stunning piece of symbolism that no one got, even when Marlene, to considerable consternation insisted that he performed in his uniform.

“Philistines.” she said, as she explained with elaborate patience for the third time the symbolism of postman as messenger of God.

“Actually, Marlene, point of order. The Philistines were a very cultured people”

“Actually, Trevor, any more points of order and you’ll be the back end of the donkey."

Sigourney's boyfriend Cameron was drafted in as the innkeeper. A night-club doorman by trade he had little difficulty with the lines- “You can't come in here, we're full' although he did tend to keep fooling around at rehearsals and ad-libbing: 'You can't come in mate, but you can, love, we're letting in girls for half price”.

Joseph was to be played by Len, the church caretaker.

"But he's about 1000 years old Marlene."

"Joseph was older than Mary you know. Anyway, it says a lot about the exploitation of women in a patriarchal society."

Rehearsals came and went as rehearsals do.

"Marlene, I'm sorry to interrupt but I'm having trouble with my character in this scene. What's my motivation here?"

"Go away Trevor. You’re a palm tree.”

"Len, please! How often have I told you? Don't smoke during the birth scene - the baby Jesus is inflammable."

"Marlene, if I hear another religious person say: 'and Wise Men seek him still . . . .' I may run screaming from the building"

"Brenda, they're not religious, they're Church of England."

"Sigourney, Darling, no more piercings please - at least not before Christmas. I'm sorry Cameron ... you've had what pierced? I see .... well, we shan't need to see that on stage thank you very much"

“Point of order, Marlene, technically, its not Christmas, its Advent, which means….”

“SOMEBODY BRING ME THE DONKEY OUTFIT”

"Terry. Drop the line about 'Special Delivery', it's not working-"

"Do I look 1st century enough in this?"

"It's Armani, Justin, you took fine ... Do up your flies."

And so the evening arrived --- and Marlene was proved right. It was a triumph- dramatic, moving and powerful. The stable became an old garage, back-lit in moody tones, the manger: the boot of a jacked-up wreck. Drug paraphernalia littered the floor. Three local characters shared a bottle around a brazier and stray dogs sniffed around the set. Everyone delivered their lines perfectly, and on cue it snowed. Even the arrival of Justin's nieces on set dressed as Frodo and Gandalf didn't raise an eyebrow.

It's hard to believe that it was nearly a year ago now, and here we are again getting ready for this year. It's going to be different this year though. After Marlene's triumph the church council members met in emergency session. Words like uncomfortable, inappropriate, trendy and travesty were bandied about.

So we're back to the traditional again- shepherds in tea towels carrying cuddly sheep and angels with tinsel halos. The relevant and the up-to date, it seems, have no place in the Christmas story.

It was really well received and I note from my stats a number of INTERNET searchs for it which amazed me. I'm doing a slightly more risque version of it Sunday evening at my Beloved's church on request. It seems to be an annual ritual.

Christmas Present

2010-12-10T20:16:00.001Z

It’s Saturday morning, which means I have to shoot off to the school Christmas bazaar: how better to give something back to the school than to exchange all your unwanted rubbish in that relaxed period in the run-up to Christmas when no one has anything very pressing to do? This is good, because in addition to my two daughters I have my two teenage nephews to entertain.

Business is slow, though it is not long before the takings start rocketing, as a result of the children’s ingenious sales technique of buying everything themselves with my money.

Certainly by the time we have hung around for hours and assiduously avoided the blandishments of a marauding Santa, the little scamps are loaded down with more than enough 91-piece jigsaws and single-mother packs of Happy Families to start practising getting bored ahead of the official gift disenchantment date of 27th December, and at only a fraction of the cost. Why, I hardly have enough money left to try my luck at the ‘Bring a Bottle’ tombola, with its array of beers, wines, Advocaat, east European turnip liqueurs and (as it turns out, when my ticket finally comes up trumps) Radox Herbal Bath, with its essential aromatic ingredients, none of them, sadly, being alcohol.

‘It could have been worse,’ says another parent, as we head for the cars.

‘You could have won the nail varnish remover.’

That afternoon, we decide to go shopping . . . in the city centre . . . . all five of us.

I can’t believe we have decided to wait until five minutes before Christmas to go off and spend all my money in search of a handy organiser for the cutlery drawer for my mother, which will apparently halve the time it takes to find a teaspoon, or double the time it takes to put the washing-up away, depending on whether you’re the sort of person who thinks a glass is half-full or half-empty – a term which incidently always reminds me of my auntie Doreen in Barnsley. “Glass half-full, glass half-empty? Pass it over here, I’ll drink the bloody thing.”

And then on the bus, my elder nephew makes the slightly alarming announcement that there might be time to visit SegaWorld in The Corn Exchange and use up the virtual-ride vouchers he won in the Leeds Metro phone-in as a chance result of knowing what the capital of France was, though only on condition, I stipulate, that the children bring to a speedy conclusion their vigorous public debate over a) who was the last person to vomit on public transport and b) what happened to the bag of sick afterwards. By the time we surface at the Town Hall we are straight into the shopping scene from Ben Hur and are fully horde-acclimatised, though I am a firm advocate of tides of humanity being where they belong – i.e. on page 1,875 of the Old Testament – and not on the stretch of pavement separating us from the entrance to Primark.

In that oxymoron – “Christmas Hell” which is Marks and Spencer food hall, I notice a hand dip into my basket and remove a pack of mince-pies. “Well?” the culprit challenged. “There aren’t any left on the shelves.” It occurs to me at this point that “Mary’s Boy Child” has been on a continuous loop in the background. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m sure Harry Belafonte is a lovely man and is probably on the verge of a UK comeback tour but enough already.

“But it’s Christmas” the vacuous sales assistant beams. Her name badge proclaims her as PAGAN (Happy to Help) which seems oddly appropriate.

“No, Pagan it isn’t Christmas: it’s Advent.” The smile doesn’t flicker but the eyes show real fear. A result!

At last we emerge at SegaWorld clutching our free vouchers, and although the whims of my younger daughter could be met simply by staying on the escalator, it’s a blow to find that, due to circumstances beyond the passing interest of whoever owns this place, an astonishing four out of the five virtual rides are out of action, with the remaining one in the incapable hands of someone with all the communication skills of a person who spent his childhood locked in a cupboard.

Understandably, this ride is very popular and we spend the rest of the week queuing for it, which then means having to leg it back down the Headrow, assisted by the younger nephew with the slightly irritating habit of elbowing his way to the front and then causing a pile-up by stopping to complete an important move on his handheld entertainment facility. We miss the bus by the skin of our teeth. Excellent.

It’s already getting dark. But we’ve barely got back home when the children take a sudden interest in my driving them back into Leeds to see a mystery celebrity turn the Christmas lights on. Off we go again, and 15 minutes later we are in town, following the unmistakable noise of people pretending to enjoy themselves. And sure enough we find ourselves in front of a big stage being expected to clap along to Shakin’ Stevens and Bob the Builder, while a troupe of alarmingly energetic dancers in Santa Claus hats audition to an imagined throng of TV talent scouts. Still, it’s all part of the fun, and the DJs are soon tossing fantastic prizes into the crowd to get us into the festive spirit of untamed consumer frenzy. We miss the Aire FM baseball hats, but my elder daughter does surface from the brawling mass clutching a fragment of a family ticket to the Vue cinema.

‘DO YOU WANNA DO THE YMCA?’ the DJ is shouting.

‘Er . . . do you want to do the YMCA?’ I ask my nephews.

No way,’ mutters the eldest. ‘It’s a gay song.’ He clamps his arms firmly to his sides, as if any sudden movement might transform him into a priapic leather-trousered construction worker sporting a large moustache. I offer him a short lecture in low hissing tones on how a civilised society is judged by its celebration of sexual diversity, though obviously an ability to run the railways comes into it, too.

“Anyway,” I say, “listen to the words. It’s not about being gay, it’s about young men having a good meal, and doing whatever they feel.”

At last it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for as the DJ asks us to give a big Leeds welcome to: Robbie Williams. Oh, hang on - make that a Robbie Williams tribute act! "Robbie" gives us a few songs and could easily pass for the real thing, from a distance, with the light behind him, if you didn’t have your hearing aid turned up. Eventually he switches the lights on. Mmm. It’s not exactly Las Vegas. On the upside, at least we didn’t get stuck behind the family who decided what riotous fun it would be to wear red flashing antlers on their heads for the duration of the event.

And the real meaning of Christmas in all this? Well, the Vicar of Dibley Special repeat, Christmas Day, 8.15, BBC1, of course.

Advent Two: John the Baptist

2010-12-05T14:19:00.001Z

Jim and Tammy: Prophets of our time?

Our Gospel this morning presents the raw, rustic personality of John the Baptist, the striking forerunner of Jesus the Messiah. John serves as the principal preparer for the coming of a new age where God’s will reigns in the lives of those who are his followers.

I quite fancy being John the Baptist. Well, not the lack of hygiene, the diet of locusts or the camel dung obviously: we’re talking prophetic-lite here for me. In my darker moments the idea of having a rant – you know, taking people on one side and spelling one or two things out to them very clearly - really appeals to me. For John to have done that in the conviction that he did so with the authority of God must have made him a formidable force and a troubling character if you happened to be at the receiving end of his righteous indignation.

How easy to abuse that position: how easy it would be for a latter day prophet to rage against the world the flesh and the devil … and to get it wrong, which is probably why I’m not called to the role of prophet. Recent history gives us many examples of those who called themselves prophets having been brought low by scandal. Do the names Morris Cerullo, Jim & Tammy Bakker or Jimmy Swaggart ring any bells? The job description of prophet doesn’t include any clauses whereby the individual makes vast amounts of money or privately indulges in the sort of sexual gratification he rails against in public or undertakes meanspirited acts of vengance. No: the prophet speaks the word of God to his or her generation regardless of personal cost. John’s life was entirely dedicated to God out there in the desert. There are few of us who can claim the same.

Oh yes: proclaiming judgement can come a little too easily to some of us which is why we shouldn’t do it – at least not unless we are absolutely sure we have God’s mandate. How many times have you listened to someone calling down Hell and damnation on some topic or other and then thought “No. Not in my name?” The next time you’re in the city centre, instead of scuttling by the street evangelists, just stop and listen for a while to their “prophetic ministry”. Is this the God you worship? Do you recognise him in what they say?

We Lutherans talk a lot about the distinction between Law and Gospel in preaching, but we talk about it in the context of balance. Too often I hear the Law preached and not the Gospel there outside Harvey Nicholls and Marks and Spencers in the city centre. Oh yes, John the Baptist is most definately the template for such preachers but he could only proclaim the law: the Gospel was not yet come but he knew he had to prepare the way for it. To hear some of our street preachers you’d be forgiven for wondering if the Gospel ever had come. Old Testament Christians, Leviticites. I'm often worried that Christianity has perfected the art of judgment but hasn't properly pointed to the One who really does the judging. That One who is, of course, the same One who does the saving.

This season more than any other points out the gap between our inner lives and our external behavior. John the Baptist points to the gap between our rhetoric and our behaviour. His is the voice of the Law, showing us our sin and calling us to bear fruit worthy of repentance. Repentance is, of course, part of the Christian journey, and it's part of getting ready for Christmas. God is coming and all of us probably need a little light shed on our darkness. But if we're going to be really honest this Advent season, we probably need to recognise our tendency to judge rather than repent; our willingness to play the role of John the Baptist pointing out the sin of the world; and our propensity to enjoy that role. After all what's Christmas without a little complaining about all those Christians who only come to church on Christmas Eve? What's Christmas for the lazy preacher if not moaning on about the materialism and the commercialism of the season?

Back to John for a moment. The people started to come, first in dribs and drabs and then in their hundreds and then in their thousands. All these people came to hear him preach. Walking miles out from their cities, out into the wilderness to listen to this desert prophet: that’s a long way to walk for a sermon.

These people came out into the desert to him preach. They came from all walks of life and included amongst them some of their religious leaders – who he manages to insult for their insincerity - and even Herod, their King or his spies. They came not because his sermons were witty or clever; not because of the wonderful music group or old favourite hymns; not because they had some desire to see old friends that they hadn’t seen all week; not because of some childhood habit of being at worship, a habit that they couldn’t kick. No.

The vast majority left their cities and walked miles out into the desert because they wanted to see a rare phenomenon. They wanted to see a man who had been totally immersed in God, whose soul had not been corrupted by life in the cities, whose personality had not been fouled by the compromises of life. They didn’t want to be tantalized; they didn’t come to be entertained; they didn’t come to hear some fashionable religious wisdom. They wanted to hear an authentic Word from God for their lives. The message of this desert prophet was essentially one word. Prepare. In the wilderness, prepare for the coming of the Christ. John’s message is based upon the nearness of the “kingdom of heaven”. His call to repent or to turn from wickedness prepares the way for that kingdom. It urges a fatally flawed people now as then to wrestle their attention away from the concerns of this life and to direct it instead toward the approaching age of God’s Righteousness. This is what qualifies John as “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,” who prepares the way for the Lord.

Of course we have the benefit of hindsight: we know how the story unfolds and this influences our responses to the story. John was a disturber: just look at the way he speaks to the religious leaders. We’ve not walked miles to hear the voice of a challenging preacher but to what extent do we recognise the deeply disturbing nature of John’s teaching? We know we are preparing for the nativity. We know we are about to celebrate the coming of the infant Jesus, our saviour, but to what extent do we really view ourselves as being those in need of repentance? To what extent do we recognise our sinfulness? To what extent do we really want to be disturbed by such an uncompromising message? Come on folks, we’re in the run up to Christmas. Let’s not spoil things by getting heavy.

Matthew’s presentation of John the Baptist as the forerunner of the Christ of God concludes with the announcement that one more powerful, more worthy, more Spirit-filled, more fiery is on his way. This One will come as judge of the world, to be sure, but also as saviour. This portion of the preparation, therefore, is both warning and hope, fear and faith, condemnation and redemption, law and gospel.

Has it occurred to you what our responsibility is here at this time? Yes, I’m afraid we’re back to my desire to be John the Baptist. Except we’re all called to be John the Baptist preparing the Way of the Lord. Perhaps our role is not on this occasion to do the ranting and the judgement – after all we’re not outside Marks and Spencer’s – but instead to do the preparing: to talk to those we know and care for about the meaning and the implications of the coming nativity. It may come as a surprise to some we know to discover that the true meaning of Christmas is not the Only Fools and Horses Christmas Special repeat on Christmas Day, BBC 1 at 8.00pm.

When I talk to people who aren't interested in the church, it's almost always because they believe that the church is more interested in judgment than it is in salvation. We've communicated really clearly about sin but not so clearly about the love of Jesus. What an indictment of churches down the generations. We've given the impression that our sinfulness is more powerful than Jesus, who is the heart of God beating in the world. The one who is coming is more powerful than I, even more powerful than my ability to keep him away. It is only the relentless and ongoing announcement of love's coming that will inspire anyone to change and to live from its power. Preaching judgment is the easy part but the Gospel is primarily about saving the world. What John points to is the God who is not willing to stand by and wag the finger of judgment, tossing the unrighteous into unquenchable fire. It's a God who is willing to enter the burning chaos of human life and save it. Jesus is the one who enters into the heart of human life, takes into himself all those things that separate us from God. He steps into the gap between our inner life and our external behavior. His work ends, not in self-righteous satisfaction at letting those sinners have what they deserve but on the cross when the power of sin and separation and self-righteousness is overcome. This is what John is telling us to prepare for but he is also telling us that we should, in our turn, help others to prepare.

The Snow

2010-12-04T15:59:00.007Z

(The M62 on Wednesday)

Autumn lasted about twenty minutes. We are in the depths of an early Winter. When I set off for school on Monday I was convinced this was a foolhardy thing to do as I made my way through a blizzard: surely the place would be shut? Not so. The area around the Knowledge College only had a light dusting of snow but the phones were ringing off their hooks as the hopeful rang in. "Is the school shut?"

A few colleagues arrived a little late. A significant number of kids arrived very late, too tempted by the infinite possibilities of snow play to take academic punctuality seriously. I couldn't blame them but it was interesting to note that the top sets were pretty largely full and the less able groups were decimated until mid morning. There's probably a study in there somewhere. (Akin to the study on the correlation between a pupil bringing their photograph money to school in the first week and the number of GCSEs that same student achieves five years later. I have a theory tested by time but alas, no funding.)

"Sir? Will he shut the school? Will we be sent home?"

Who? The Head? I doubt it.

"He's dead selfish!"

How do you make that out?

"Well it's not fair is it?"

Why?

"Because it's snowing."

Except it's not though is it? It was, but it's not any more and it's unlikely to before home time.

"He's dead selfish he is."

Sensing a circular argument and no meeting of minds, I try an alternative tack.

It's a difficult responsibility after all. It's a Health and Safety issue: he's got the safety of over a hundred staff and nearly thirteen hundred kids to balance against educational concerns. He's not going to close unless it's absolutely necessary. He's certainly not going to take you being a bit put out into consideration. Snow days aren't an entitlement. There's a lot of careful thought and a lot of advice-taking going into those decisions.

"When would he shut then?"

If the place was knee deep in snow; if the bus company couldn't get up the hill; if the motorways were shut; if the roads weren't gritted; if there was black ice; if the Education Authority said so; if most of the other schools shut. There are too many variables and you throwing snow at each other isn't one of them.

"He's dead selfish he is!"

Oh get real!

Overnight most of the above happened.

I threw back the curtains at 6.20 when the alarm went and, rather like a vampire shriveling before sunlight, I was blinded by a whiteout. (O.K. It was really my Beloved who opened the curtains as I hunkered down for an extra five minutes: poetic license - but you get the idea.) It was a winter wonderland indeed: the snow was several inches deep, there were no tracks in the road and everything looked sort of snuggled comfortably into the snow which was only marked by a criss-cross of fox prints.

I calculated the degree of difficulty in getting the car off the drive and down our quiet little road. Would the main roads have been cleared? What was the motorway like? More to the point, given that the Knowledge College is in a field on a hill in the middle of nowhere, would those local roads have been treated? Going on previous history that area is not a priority. Only last week the Boss had given us the Snow Day routine in the staff meeting: there would be a text to all staff and parents saying whether the school was open or not. That wasn't entirely satisfactory as I'd got my text saying school was open ten minutes after I'd arrived yesterday. I certainly didn't fancy setting off in this weather only to get there - or worse, find myself stuck on the motorway with no escape - before the text arrived, which it did just as I was putting on my coat.

An unexpected day off. A little bit of light housework, a meal prepared, an Advent sermon written and the monitoring of Facebook as my colleagues shared slightly guilty congratulations on our good fortune, and no year 8 for me. What's not to like? And people say there's no God. Daughter Two went to protest with loads of students in the city centre about the proposed huge hike in University tuition fees and announced herself well pleased with the outcome. "Can I sleep at the University? They've occupied a building"

Wednesday was no better. Again I decided to wait for the text. Will rang me. "What's happening?"

No idea.

June rang. "Have you heard?"

Not a thing.

Nearly ten minutes later than normal I set off. I'd gone - slid - less than half a mile when June rang back. "I've just rung school. The decision has been made not to open." Fifteen minutes later the text arrived. Had I set off at the normal time I'd have been on the motorway at that point and, as the day's news unfolded, very probably stuck there for the rest of the day. Not impressed.

Having stopped to take June's call I tried to take the most straightforward route home. It wasn't straight forward at all. The streets were clogged with snow. Cars were careering all over the place, getting stuck on hills, slithering back, failing to break. It took me almost as long to retrace my steps that half mile as a standard journey to school would have taken on a normal day. Daughter Two, whose school is just on the other side of the city was not amused to discover hers was open. Daughter One and my Beloved were both able to walk to work, which they did after some slightly resentful chuntering. Daughter Two came home mid morning. "We shut." Lots of Facebook chatter.

It snowed heavily on and off for most of the day.

I put together an Advent liturgy for Sunday, started a new book and flopped on the sofa to spend a disproportionate amount of time watching News 24 and local BBC stations. This was unprecedented for November: when we get weather like this it's usually January or February. The annual national soul-searching debate about our levels are preparedness for snow were dusted off and practiced all day - except this time most of North and Central Europe were in the same position. What no one can tell me - and I ask whoever will listen: what exactly does it mean when the BBC weathermen, the Police and the AA all tell us that we should only consider travelling if the journey is absolutely essential? It just occurs to me that employee and employer might have very different understandings of that advice. What constitutes absolutely essential?

I receive a text from Daughter 2's school. They are closed tomorrow. How far sighted to know a day before. She won't have to get up at the crack of dawn and worry about buses or juggle the decion about whether to leave or wait for advice. Almost immediately afterwards I receive a call from the Head Teacher of our local primary school where my Beloved is a governor. They too, "And I stress how unprecidented this is" she said, had decided to close tomorrow.

That's a communication trend I'd like to encourage.

My Beloved returned with hood up and red nose, boots caked in snow. "The University closed at three" she announced "Staff were told that for our safety we should assemble in the library to sleep overnight. Most people's cars are snowed in. Students are building snow barricades in the streets and there was this car with a six foot snow phallus on its roof." Ah, the benefits of a University education.

Just after seven Daughter One rang. Not at all confident in her balance in knee deep snow over ice she asked for a lift. When I'd stopped laughing I told her that I'd walk to meet her. Daughter Two and I, dressed like Starship Stormtroopers against the chill, set out on what is normally a twenty minute walk to Headingley. Our road was as I suspected: knee deep in unspoilt snow but the shock came at the main road. It was the same. No vehicles on the move which is possibly the first time I have ever seen it so. In the street lights it was an eerie sight. For a moment we could have been the only two people on the planet. Just up at the bus stop an abandoned bus's hazard lights blinked on and off. The driver, presumable, having had second thoughts about attempting the descent of the hill.

On our journey to meet Daughter One we passed no more than a dozen ghostly figures and no more than half a dozen moving vehicles. The snow was crisp underfoot and still falling. Daughter Two decided to pull tree branches as we walked under. She's such a card.

"Knob-head alert!" D. Two announced, as a student in shorts and trainers overtook us. (I don't know where she hears such language.) At this point D. One appeared in red beret and overcoat holding a pink umbrella. She looked rather sweet I felt: that unwaveringly English faith in the value of the umbrella under all circumstances. D. Two was less impressed. "Put it away. You're embarrassing."

As I went to bed I didn't even bother to set my alarm for Thursday morning.

A message from George Carey

2010-12-03T20:56:00.001Z

In spite of having contributed so much to our civilization and providing its foundation, the Christian Faith is in danger of being stealthily and subtly brushed aside. The evidence has been mounting in recent years. Teachers and council employees are suspended for offering to ‘say a prayer’. A devoted nurse is banned from wearing a cross, a British Airways worker told to remove hers. Roman Catholic adoption agencies are closed down under new laws. Christian marriage registrars who cannot, in good conscience, preside over civil partnership ceremonies are summarily dismissed.

Dr. Carey: We've heard all this before and it is Tabloid rubbish. You keep forgetting that you are a FORMER Archbishop of Canturbury. You are RETIRED. It really is time to be quiet.
This excellent website makes it all clear - again!

It's not about being retired as such though is it? A comment from a new reader took me to task about the inconsistency of criticising Archbishop Carey while lauding Archbishop Tutu. Fair point to an extent but I think there's a big difference between the two. Why is Desmond a universally loved and influential figure in his retirement while George is already pretty much marginalised in his? Could it be that in what they say in retirement one inspires and builds up the church while the other just whinges and brings it into disrepute? One is a positive force for good. The other is George Carey.

Hallelujah!

2010-11-29T19:33:00.008Z

This'll be my lot in the Town Hall on Dec 11th: Christmas begins then and not before!

Northern Man: an endangered species!

2010-11-28T19:17:00.002Z

We are knee deep in snow and ice but we are in the North of England where Real Men roam - in T-shirts or vests. As a refugee from the South it has often struck me - as I wear my overcoat, gloves, scarf and hat - that men are made from a different mold here: or so they would have us believe.

For a while I believed it was a simple reaction to less frequent sunlight. "I need more vitamin D. I know, I'll get my kit off." I don't think that now.

I went out last night -wrapped up to the nines - and encountered a number of men in various stages of hypothermia.

"No, no. These aren't goose bumps. It's a manifestation of my testosterone."

Ah, righty-ho then.

In addition to the usual northern male are the wannabes: a city with two universities and numerous colleges, is the natural habitat of the male student. With the locals a hard act of alpha-manliness to follow, (you know sleeveless vest, cigarette in mouth, multiple tattoos and a can of beer), are those who have to lay down a gauntlet, a challenge. Having A Levels is, it seems, no guarantee of common sense. I have long wondered at what stage during the undergraduate three years students are taught to walk on the pavement on a Friday or Saturday night - but I digress. Headingley is a perpetual fancy dress party at weekends. Last night I encountered a number of shivering young men in vests and tutus.

"Don't confuse this as shivering. This is the effect of my male pheromones."

Fair enough.

One absolute big girl's blouse was actually wearing a thin hoody but in the way of these things the pack had turned on him and he was an outcast, reduced to wandering in the wake of the rest and vulnerable to being picked off by circling packs of Romans in togas.

Those blue tights are fetching ... O sorry, that's your current skin tone.

"Cold? What cold? I can handle it."

And then, of course, we add alcohol to the heady mixture and the lads pass out in the snow.

"It's O.K. nurse. This is what a real man looks like."

Frostbite is the new black.

Ah, OFSTED

2010-11-24T21:37:00.001Z

So, allegedly we are due an OFSTED inspection in the near future. You can tell by the clues: Senior Managers suddenly demanding the update of policies; panicky requests that you update your departmental profile on the website. "Have you done your departmental marking audit yet?" and so on.

No I'm too busy actually teaching.

And now we have Pupil Voice. There's a strong chance I may not be on message here.

I have been given a folder to keep documentation in. OFSTED can tell a good school by how well its folders are kept I understand. In my folder is a questionnaire which asks pupils about their lessons in my subject. There are a number of words pupils are to circle to best reflect their sense of how they experience their learning. "Boring" is one of them. So with a certain degree of cynicism I trial this with one of my classes. They pretty largely respond that they like my lessons but almost all also select "boring" as one of their key words without, it seems, recognising the innate contradiction inherent in that juxtaposition.

I take the questionnaire and have it retyped, substituting the word "enjoying" for "boring". I trial it with a second class of similar ability and disposition. Almost every child circles "enjoying". They are, it seems, only bored when they see that option written down.

"I am a teenager. School is boring. Ergo I am bored. Simple as. If I am not given the option of being bored I have to confess that I am enjoying my learning"

Ah, the complexity of the teenage mind.

They are also asked to suggest something the teacher could do more of. Apparently they'd like me to play more games.

Then they are asked to suggest something I should do less of. Apparently I make them write. They don't like writing. (In a lesson last week Georgina (AKA Vicky Pollard) was incensed because I had the temerity to expect her to do some reading and some writing). No they don't like writing.

"All we ever do is write."

Well apart from the DVD watching ...

"But all we ever do is write."

... and the discussion work.....

"Yeah, but all we ever do is write" (Or occasionally wright).

... and the PowerPoint presentations ...

"It's all writing."

... and the computer work ...

"Writing, writing, writing. It's not fair."

... and the role play. But apart from that all we ever do is write.

"My hand hurts."

Look guys. Newsflash - writing is one of the things we do in school. If I could guarantee that you could leave this room every lesson having absorbed everything we have discussed for all time, we wouldn't need to write. But guess what? You can't remember what we did yesterday and you wrote that down. Well not you Georgina, obviously.

Exam results Headteacher? I'm sorry. We were so busy having fun in the classroom and playing games, I never actually got around to teaching them anything. Still I ENGAGED them. And my folder is lovely.

Teenagers, Sex Ed. and Chlamydia

2010-11-19T20:07:00.002Z

"Ryan! Stop waving your wee in my face" isn't an admonishment a teacher hears too often in his career and so I zoned in fairly swiftly from my autopilot reverie.

Eh?

Sir. Tell him!

Tell him what?

He's waving his wee in my face.

Ryan. Apparently you're waving your wee in her face. Will that do Shona?

No. Tell him to stop. It's not nice.

To cut a long story short I explored the situation further. Doorman-Poirot gets his man. Well his boy.

There had been a special Enterprise Event in school today - no don't ask, my blood pressure, don't you know - where some outside agency had offered chlamydia testing to our students. Don't get me wrong: STIs are a serious issue and anything that improves the situation has to be good, but somewhere along the line something seems to have gone wrong. Take Ryan. Anyone less likely to have contracted an STI would be hard to imagine. Weedy, buck-toothed and with very thick lensed glasses Ryan isn't your immediate best-guess for a teenaged lothario.

But sir, they were giving out free boxer-shorts to anyone who had a test so I had a go.

They were rather classy. Might pop over myself after break, assuming I can wade through the litter of blown up condoms.

Ah, teenagers: so much fun.

Back to Vicar School

2010-11-17T21:03:00.001Z

(This isn't us at the Police College: God forbid!)

Back to the Wakefield Police College for another session on Mission with Dr. Matthew Guest of Durham University. The seats on the back row of the lecture theatre have more leg room so Hilda, Monica and I staked our claim while Stuart and Dr. Bob ("I'm suffering from a dreadful cold. I'm as deaf as a post") opted for the cheap seats further forward. As it happened everyone was well miked up so it didn't matter where we sat.

I was quite looking forward to this session as it was to focus on the congregation and mission and I was hoping for some insights into congregational dynamics. As it happened the first session was directed towards research methodology in preparation for in-house surveys. Not at all my scene, so aided on this occasion by St. Ipod and Bach played by Suha and Guher Pekinel on the piano, I settled into something of a private revery telling Monica to nudge me if I snored.

Nevertheless I picked up some gems: it is quite clear that the congregation is recognised as the local collective gathering and it has become the dominant form of the expression of religion and spirituality alongside and sometimes in competition with (often) fragmented systems of central hierarchy. One of the key questions seemed to be whether the local congregation knows its boundaries. It would be interesting - and challenging - to ask where the local congregation sees itself in relation to the wider institution. There has certainly been much discussion about the pronouncements of church leaders not being backed up by the masses in the pews. Is it even possible to offer a fair representation of a congregational community when internal expressions of value or belief are diverse or in disagreement with the mother institution?

I couldn't help at this point wondering, as an example, how Evangelicals deal with contemporary culture and where that leaves that congregation in the context of a more progressive religious environment. Is the church a beleagured enclave guarding orthodoxy or is it a thorn in the side of the wider church? It is in this context that we hear of whole congregations defecting to another church or witholding their parish contribution to the central coffers on a point of religious doctrine and principle.

The cultural shift of the late 1970s put the individual and his subjective experience as the new norm which doesn't sufficiently take into consideration the mediating structures the individual functions in, i.e. the local congregation or the wider central authority. Does this mean that we are more than usually likely to search for the congregation that most closely fits our worldview rather than sticking with the old denominational allegances? Is our sense of misiology linked to that? Does the congregation we attend reflect one of the standard models of mission and is that at odds with what the central authority sees as its mission model? How is this resolved?

Muslims, Tabloids (again) and Remembrance

2010-11-14T18:27:00.001Z

The day after our wonderful Remembrance Day assembly one of my pupils asked:

Sir. Did you hear about what Muslims did?

Now primed by having listened to the Today programme I already knew what she was referring to. A small group of Muslims had burned a large poppy in a demonstration about the British military presence in Afghanistan and chanted slogans like "British soldiers burn in Hell." Well, yes, incredibly insensitive but hardly worth a banner headline or a front page photo given the isolated nature of the incident and the small number of people involved. My newspaper gave it no column inches. The Daily Mail on the other hand, that bastion of right-thinking did both.

TEXT HERE (It's worth having a look at the comment thread, particularly the "best rated" to get a sense of just who this paper is aimed at.)

Note the juxtaposition of white patriotic boy and brown unpatriotic boys. Oh! Let me think. What is the message here I wonder?

My pupil is a lovely girl. She was not being awkward but merely expressing confusion and a need for clarification. On Remembrance day she was on study leave and so not present in our special assembly. It was worth stopping the class (Buddhism, suffering and evil) to discuss the issue and hopefully nipping in the bud the sort of response the oh-so-respectable Daily Mail would wish to whip up while claiming to abhor racism.

I talked about the assembly and about how moving it was. I also talked about how every member of staff came into the Sports Hall including our Muslim colleagues and student teachers, each of whom was wearing a poppy and each of whom stood with bowed heads during the two minute silence.

I'd like the Daily Mail to have featured that picture. Or this one:

TEXT HERE

Iraqi Christians - the plight

2010-11-13T16:44:00.000Z

There doesn't seem to be as much in the media about this as I would have expected. In today's Guardian, however, there are a couple of excellent articles.

"The irony of Bush's Iraq invasion is that it may have wiped out his faith where other conquests have failed"

TEXT HERE

"I am terrified to live in this society. We are being slaughtered like sheep. Yet this is our country."

TEXT HERE

"They called me from the church. I heard it all live, the bombs, the screaming"

TEXT HERE

RIP Jack Duckworth: Legend.

2010-11-12T19:18:00.003Z

Remembrance Day at the Knowledge College

2010-11-11T18:27:00.001Z

It was a significant day at school today: Yrs 10 & 11 had an important science exam and were on study leave this morning and today is Remembrance Day. That left the 600+ youngsters in Lower School to have their own Remembrance Assembly.

"Bring them down to the Sports Hall at 10.45" we were told.

I had a lovely Yr 9 class and we were making good headway with Religious Myth as a bone fide literary genre when the time came. To what extent these kids had any real awareness of the significance of the day is open to question but they entered the hall in appropriately sombre mood and sat in silent rows while First World War images were projected to the background reading of war poems.

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

Rupert Brooke

You could have heard a pin drop. Every child wore a poppy and every member of staff was present - teachers, admin staff, technicians and Site Services.

A member of the Music Dept played the Last Post on her trumpet and the two minute silence was absolute. It was incredibly moving and I felt inordinately proud.

Children came forward to light candles and each child named aloud a former pupil who had fallen in combat.

They left in silence to video extracts of soldiers serving in Afghanistan.

We learnt later that traffic on the motorway had spontaneously stopped and that the city centres had ground to a silent halt.

How fitting!

Giles Fraser on Gene Robinson

2010-11-10T16:07:00.000Z

Despite the conservatives, churchgoers are inspired by Gene Robinson. Though the gay bishop is retiring early, some day the Anglican church hierarchy will see homophobia as an evil.

Read Text Here

More for my American friends

2010-11-06T18:16:00.002Z

This is what happens when politicians tell lies about their opponents here

The second Video - (Dept .Leader of Labour Party) - is also very telling in terms of political integrity.

Joke of the Day: Obama is a Socialist...Hahahahahaha

2010-11-03T18:56:00.003Z

The Democrats are to the Right of our Right wing Party, the Conservatives. Our Left Wing party, the Labour Party, is Socialist. To any American readers please be aware that European Socialism is not the same as Stalin's Gulags or Kim Il Jong's worker's paradise. Some of you would get along just fine here: democracy, free and pretty objective press, a fairly civilised political landscape ... oh no, not that last one: you wouldn't recognise that. And we tend to lock up dangerous people rather than giving them talk shows to host. Just saying.

I become mildly offended when some folk insist on discussing Socialism as if it's symbol is 666. Really people, think before you speak!

Sir v The Teenagers

2010-11-02T20:30:00.004Z

One of the Pastoral Staff collared me today:

Ah I'm glad to see you. Melissa's asked if she can be moved out of your R.S. group.

Why?

She says you're always on her case and you make her sit on her own.

That's teenspeak for "He moved me because I'm always talking to people around me and distracting them and not getting on with my work."

Unreasonable man. She also said you picked on her.

That's teenspeak for "Now that I'm sitting under his nose he can see how little work I do and I'm not used to having to complete work to a reasonable standard and be held accountable.

So not moving groups then?

No.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaimie. I've told you three times now to get on with your work. Show me what you've done so far. Oh, a blank page. That's very impressive in your GCSE year. You may have noticed that at no stage did I say "If you can be bothered." It's not an option. I expect you to do the same work as everyone else.

For God's sake!

Explain.

My work fell on the floor.

There's nothing on the page. Are you trying to tell me that the words dribbled off the page and landed on the floor?

This is pathetic.

I agree.

It's rubbish this. I hate it.

I'm sorry to put you out so much. What's liking something got to do with doing your best?

I'm not doing it. I don't see why I should.

That'll work well as a strategy in later life. Good luck with that conversation with your first employer.
This is really impressive two days before a parents' consultation evening. Have you got a death wish?

My mum say's she doesn't want to see you any more.

We'll see.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ring Ring: Hello, is that Jamie's Mum. I'm just ringing about the parents' evening. Jamie says you no longer want to see me.

Oh. What subject is this?

Religious Studies.

I don't have Religious Studies on my appointments list.

I gave him 5.25.

Strange that I don't have that.

Particularly as he said you no longer wanted to see me.

Can you do 5.55?

Perfect. See you then.

Getting in touch with my inner-Scot

2010-11-01T15:48:00.000Z

Reformation Sunday

2010-10-31T09:14:00.000Z

Dear God, on this festival day we thank you especially for your servant Martin Luther. We praise you for your mercy which raised him up as a zealous reformer. You brought again to light through him the gospel which declares salvation by grace through faith and we thank you for preserving your word in all its truth for us today. You reached out to us and sent your Holy Spirit into our hearts and drew us in faith to Christ and now we are your children, rescued from the slavery of sin. Do not let us loose this gospel and our faith, or set truth aside for error. Do not let us trust in our own works to merit heaven. You have directed our faith away from the commandments of men and rest our hope only and solely on the great and precious promises of your Gospel.

Help us to cherish the blessings of your Word as our fathers in faith delivered it to us. May we be thankful for the gift of bishops, pastors and teachers. Give them courage, wisdom and zeal to proclaim the gospel faithfully. Give us the desire to support them in the work of your kingdom with the talents and means you have provided. Fill us with zeal for your Word so that we may eagerly proclaim it. Restore to us the joy of your salvation, that we may boldly proclaim you to be our mighty Fortress. We ask this for Jesus' sake, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, throughout all eternity.

Amen

For my American readers

2010-10-28T08:24:00.001+01:00

Following on from Tuesday's post I give you John Bell of the Iona Community delivering Thought for The Day on BBC Radio 4 on Wednesday. Follow the link and read or listen. If you are a sucker for a Scots accent, I'd listen first.

It looks now as if politics is following the same promotional path... at least in the USA where the Democrat and Republican causes are being championed by media personalities, notably Jon Stewart and Glen Beck. In this country we too have had television personalities allying themselves with one party or another, but never with such force or profile as is presently evident across the pond. And just as we may be inclined to question the merits of particular merchandise if its advertising relies too heavily on celebrities, so we might question whether any party which relies heavily on popular media names has run out of steam as regards the verity of its cause.

American Politics: Sanity or Honour? The view from over here.

2010-10-26T10:01:00.000+01:00

An excellent article: well worth a read

Alongside Stewart will be his Comedy Central colleague, Stephen Colbert, whose own nightly show parodies the the fear-mongering FOX news and its presenters, who perpetuate the myth that much of America is still frontier country whose people only need a gun and Barak Obama's Socialist government off their backs.

Doxy's Rage

2010-10-25T09:02:00.000+01:00

An excellent post. Well ranted Doxy: Read here

Sunday Sermon: The Pharisee and the Tax Collector

2010-10-24T08:07:00.032+01:00

(As preached to the London Eritrean Lutheran Congregation)

Jeremiah 14. 7-10 &; 19-21

Psalm 84.1-7

2 Timothy 4.6-8 & 16-18

Luke 18. 9-14

Jesus told them a story: "Two men went up to the temple to pray. One of them was a Pharisee. The other was a tax collector." Beyond that what do we know about the two men? The original audience would have identified them both immediately and understood their background. But what do we know about Pharisees and Tax Collectors? Possibly less than we think.

Centuries of Christian interpretation have led us to think of Pharisees as the bad guys, but this isn’t entirely fair. They are often presented as Jesus’ opponents in the gospels certainly, but we need to remember that they were society’s good people. We know that the Pharisee was a religious leader; a pious man who took his religion very seriously indeed. He stood in the correct posture for prayer in the temple, arms raised and head lifted. Jesus’ disciples would not necessarily have been critical of this man.

And the tax collector? Now, again, because we know how Tax Collectors were looked down on and how Jesus dealt with them generously, we usually see them as the good guys but actaully tax collectors were crooks: this man was a Jew who earned his living by working for a foreign government, collecting taxes from his own people. For years he had collected high taxes from his Jewish neighbours to give to the Roman government. He gave the Romans their flat rate on every head, and made his money by charging over the odds and keeping the difference for himself. Basically, he is a con-man, a traitor, and a lowlife. He is hated, he is guilty and he knows it.

So, we have on the one hand the Pharisee who was one of the most respectable people in the Judaism of the time and on the other hand we have a tax collector who is a fraud and a turncoat, despised by his own people.

Surely there’s no competition here in terms of God’s favour: it’s obvious isn’t it? The man of God verses the crook.

Are we missing something here?

Jesus told them a story.

Who?

Jesus told who a story?

We need to go back to the middle of the last chapter to discover that Jesus was talking to his disciples. This isn’t one of those situations where the crowds of followers and bystanders were dogging their steps and demanding wise words and signs and wonders. No. This was quite intimate: just Jesus and his friends. Now Luke, our Gospel writer, often tends to show us the Disciples as weak and confused and, while it doesn’t do to over-speculate we can imagine the scene: the disciples are gathered around Jesus and he is telling this story. Perhaps they are at rest after a long day; perhaps sharing a meal; perhaps gathered around a fire. "And he told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt."

But are they hearing the same story that Jesus is telling? Is there a gap between their hearing and understanding?

Are they hearing the same story that Jesus is telling? Is there a gap between their hearing and understanding?

Which of the two men in the story would a group of Jewish men be most likely to think of as having God’s favour – the pious and religious Pharisee or the thieving tax collector?

The clues are in the prayers each man prays:

In the Pharisee’s prayer, he has nothing to ask of God. He’s basically giving God a progress report. As far as he can tell, he’s got it all under control, and he’s happy about it: “God I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, unrighteous folks, adulterers, or even like that tax collector over there.”

The Tax Collector, on the other hand , keeps his head lowered as he comes into the temple and stands some distance away . We don’t know why his guilt has got the better of him today, but there he is in the temple, full of remorse, beating his breast and saying, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” He doesn’t even promise to reform. All he does is ask for God’s mercy.

Remember as you are considering this, that we already know the story and its outcome. We know what they didn’t. We’re familiar with the story: so familiar that maybe we don’t consider that the message may not have been quite so obvious to the disciples.

Did you consider that Jesus was setting them up when he told them this story? Did you consider that Jesus’ summing up of the story would have shocked and perhaps even offended them?

What if Jesus had started the story differently? Two men went to the temple to pray. One was insufferably arrogant, assuming himself to be superior to ordinary people. The other stood afar off and humbly acknowledged his sinfulness before God." That’s the contrast. One makes a claim to righteousness based on his own accomplishments, while the other relies entirely upon God's grace. It's clearer now which of these two models Jesus was calling them to adopt.

The surprise ending of the story is that the Pharisee, who gave a wonderful performance in the temple, went home empty. He came asking nothing of God and he went home getting nothing from God. The tax collector, dodgy character that he was, showed up empty handed asking for God’s mercy, and went home justified and in the right relationship with God.

So what? O.K. It’s an interesting story, but so what? What has this to do with us? And this is always the issue for me: I have to make the stories of Jesus real to me; I must find an application otherwise the parable remains just a story Jesus told but without the power to touch or challenge me.

Luke presents the disciples as weak and confused and likely to misunderstand his teaching.

That surely couldn’t be us too, could it?

Well actually it could. After all, we’re Disciples and we tend to think we understand the story. But are we hearing the same story that Jesus is telling? Is there a gap between our hearing and understanding? "Jesus told this parable to those who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt."

So, baring that in mind, how do we understand the story? We may hear this parable as a lesson on humility: don’t be proud like the Pharisee; go home and be humble like the tax collector. Doesn’t that sound like good advice?

But isn’t that a trap? If that's the moral we take from the parable we may have missed the point: we take a parable about God’s amazing, unconditional grace and acceptance, and turn it into a story about how we can earn or merit God’s love by being better people. We’ve got the answer now. If we can just be humble like the tax collector and not be puffed up with pride like the Pharisee, then God will accept us and love us. We may even find ourselves praying, “God, I thank thee that I am not like the Pharisee.” The tragedy and the irony of trying to make ourselves worthy of love through our supposed virtues, even the virtue of humility, is that we end up casting a sideward glance at others and measuring ourselves against them. If I need to earn God’s love, then I will have to be better than the others.

The contrast is not between tax collectors and Pharisees, but between those who trust in themselves and despise others and those who know that they are sinners, the proud and the humble. Other Pharisees may well have prayed for God’s mercy just as this tax collector did, and other tax collectors could have thought quite highly of themselves and despised Pharisees. Even some Christians have been known to think so highly of themselves that they despise others.

No, the Pharisee and the tax collector are the same. They both need God’s love. The difference is that the Pharisee doesn’t know it and the tax collector does. The tax collector went up to the temple with nothing to show for himself. His hands and his heart are empty and he knows it, and so he has room to experience the good news that there is nothing we need to do, nothing we can do, to earn the grace and love of God.

Ours isn't so very different from the world Jesus was born in to. It was to both worlds, theirs and ours - the worlds of those who trust in ourselves that we are righteous and regard others with contempt - that he told the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. This parable serves now as then as a word of judgment on all those times when we would compare ourselves with others and declare ourselves righteous or those others somehow unworthy. Anytime we try to draw a line between who's "in" and who's "out," this parable tells us that we’ll will find God on the other side, for as soon as we fall prey to the temptation to divide humanity into any kind of groups, we have aligned ourselves squarely with the Pharisee, on the other side from God.

In our New Testament reading this morning we see some of these ideas developed by St. Paul. The passage from the Second Letter to Timothy shows that in some ways Paul resembles both the Pharisee and the tax collector. Like the Pharisee, he boasts of his accomplishments. He has competed well; he has finished the race; he has kept the faith; he has earned a crown of righteousness. Paul never denies the character of his commitment or the extent of his success. But like the tax collector, he knows the source of his ability to accomplish these things: “The Lord stood by me and gave me strength.” According to Paul, all the glory belongs to God.
St. Paul shows us the way: this parable is about God: God who alone can judge the human heart; God who determines to justify the ungodly.

If we can hear God's judgment in the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, then beating our breasts and saying, "God be merciful to me, a sinner," is surely not a bad response.

If New York Governor candidate Carl Paladino can't sort our homophobic principles, how can he sort the traffic on Second Avenue?

2010-10-20T20:03:00.001+01:00

To be fair to Paladino, he doesn't hate gays. He loves 'em! The lady gays anyway, judging from the emails he forwarded to colleagues over the last few years featuring lesbian porn. An inspired piece of writing by British Based American Hadley Freeman. Read full Article Here

Plums

2010-10-19T19:18:00.002+01:00

My beloved and I were in the kitchen bickering companionably about my perceived shortcomings in the culinary area. She was preparing a sweet. There are some fabulous Autumn fruits about and I have been poaching pears and plums in mulled wine and honey. Today it was to be plums with cinnamon: I watched my beloved liberally sprinkling the cinnamon.

First course over it is time for the plums. I am chatting to the daughters when another little voice says:

I think I may have put cumin in the plums instead of cinnamon.

I try the plums. She is right.

It was an easy mistake. Cinnamon and cumin are the same colour.

I look doubtful.

My beloved goes into the kitchen and returns with two jars, their labels turned away from me. I correctly identify cumin from its colour immediately.

Well, they're Indian plums. she continues, unabashed. They're quite sweet and not unpleasant.

I can't tell, having covered mine in cherry yoghurt. There is a certain je ne sais quoi. No actually, there is a definite Je sais.

Your friends can contact me for the recipe via Facebook.

Go on. I dare you.

Update: My beloved wishes it to be known that in nearly 30 yrs of marriage there have been very few recorded culinary mistakes on her part and that if the tables were to be turned I would be seriously embarrassed. Fair point.

Ah.... 11 year olds

2010-10-18T20:20:00.002+01:00

A dull Monday afternoon and I have Yr 7. Year 7b. We are looking at Christian art and symbolism.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

We have done Chi-Rho and Alpha and Omega with a little lesson about the Greek alphabet on the side. We have done YHWH and discussed Hebrew writing. We have had fun with Ichthus and now we have got to the Dove.

Sir, Sir, Why did God send lightning on Jesus?

Sorry Connor?

Why did he?

What?

Strike Jesus with lightning.

He didn't.

But it says it there. On your powerpoint.

Read it to me.

The Spirit of God descended in the form of a Dove and a lightning on Jesus.

(There is a sort of snorting caugh from Carol, my support assistant. She seems to be having trouble holding it together.)

Read it to me again.

The Spirit of God descended in the form of a Dove and a lightning on Jesus.

And again.

The Spirit of God descended like a dove and ...oh.....

Oh?

The Spirit of God descended like a dove and alighted on Jesus.

Well done.

You mean God set him alight?

No Bethany.

How long till the bell?

Lacking in inspiration ....

2010-10-15T19:19:00.000+01:00

.... or just plain tired but seem not to have the words right now. Too much going on.

So here's a picture I like.

Back to Vicar School, Dr. Bob and the Sikh Chip shop and Mission

2010-10-11T20:15:00.001+01:00

Some people have a Spiritual Home: perhaps York Minster or St. Paul's; maybe a local parish church or some special place they happened on once abroad on a significant holiday.

Mine is the Wakefield Police College.

It was there, during my training for ordination that much of my ministerial formation took place and where I had some wonderful social and significant spiritual experiences.

The Wakefield Police College.

That might sound a bit sad, a bit naff to some people I suppose but I was back there on Saturday morning, slipping under the Anglican radar - never on a delegate's list but always welcomed - to experience the latest in my ongoing training. My Anglican friends call it IME (Initial Ministerial Education) but I invariably get it wrong and call it EMI. (I seem to be fixated on the possibility of our cutting a disc at the end of the process.) They also call it Potty Training or Post Ordination Training. They may say that: I couldn't possibly comment.

I have a strong sense of coming home when I arrive here: a familiar environment and the company of good friends - friendships forged in the intimacy of training for the priesthood.

"Just watch my stuff as I pop to the Loo." Dr. Bob asked vaguely of Stuart, Hilda and I.

What are the chances? WHAT ARE THE CHANCES? A group of clergy in the middle of a Police College. I ask you!

Looking for our tutorial room we passed a sign directing police recruits to the Diversity Awareness Unit. Was it, I mused, purely a coincidence that the Diversity Awareness Unit is an a black corner on the margins of the college?

Our topic for the morning was mission and in our small group we discussed a variety of related issues. What I noted in particular was the difference in approach to the theme between those in full time paid ministry and those in secular employment. Monica works for the NHS, Dr. Bob is a University Reader in Science Education and I am a teacher. We found the models up for discussion fascinating (more of which later) but the conclusion was largely that different models influenced our approach to our secular work than the models that pertained to parish ministry.

"Life is live." noted Monica in response to Dr. Bob's concerns on presenting on Radio Sheffield's "Ask the Boffins." (Not Hip-Hop F.M. then?) Dr Bob is one of three scientists, one physicist, one chemist and one biologist who are the boffins. He is, of course, also a priest.

"Last week, someone phoned in and asked Is there a God? I replied Yes, one of the others No and the third I don't know. I'm not sure where that left anyone. Anyway" he went on. "No one really listens. I think we have a radio audience of about 10 - probably housebound and arthritic so they can't change the station. I suspect half of them have to turn up their hearing aids and the half have gone out and left the radio on as a deterrent to burglars.

And then on the way home I went into the Sikh chippy. Are you a Christian? they asked me looking at my dog collar. You know, God and church and all that. We got into conversation and they talked a bit about having lost touch with their spirituality and I said You need to get back to the Gurdwara then. Was that rubbish mission?"

I didn't think so.

Anyway, back to the Key note presentation. (Those with a low boredom threshold with all things theological, look away now.)

The Rev'd Dr. Gavin Wakefield was our speaker and I was fascinated from the start as he walked us through a number of models of mission. He was using the book Constants in context: A Theology of Mission for Today by Roman Catholic authors Stephen Bevans and Roger Schroeder. Now I remember sitting in lectures hearing about Missio Dei and I felt sufficiently familiar with the topic to feel comfortable just sitting back and listening. One of the things that struck me straight away was the authors' remarks one of the most important things Christians need to know about the church is that the church is not of ultimate importance ... the point of the church is not the church itself. And these guys are Catholics? I must buy this book. I am hooked already. Bevans and Schroeder identify six constants which they see as defining Christianity wherever it is found: Christology, Ecclesiology, Eschatology, Salvation, Theological Anthropology and Culture which they apply to the following models of mission.

(Still with me? Oh good. I know some of you are getting on and have a limited concentration span.)

A Trinitarian model:

The clear image for this model was a church without walls. The church "... is itself the result of the overflowing love of God, expressed in the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit. Ad Gentes 2

Like Jesus the church is sent by the Father in the power of the Spirit, to spend itself for the life of the world. (Jn 6.33, 10.10 and 20.21) The gifts of the Spirit are not given for personal edification but for building up the whole laos. It is a pilgrim community called by God. In eschatological terms Christians are incorporated into the divine life and experience and experience a foretaste of the world's destiny of full communion with God through baptism and the eucharist. We live in expectation of parousia. Salvation in this model, consists in participation in God's triune communal life and mission. Salvation is holistic in its commitment to to justice and reconciliation with other people and the world we live in and on. The Spirit of God is available in all creation.

A Liberation Model: seeking God's reign or the liberating service of the reign of God. (Evangelii Nuntiandi)

We witness by the lives we lead, remembering that Jesus was the first and greatest evangeliser. Our proclamation brings others into the church who in turn become witnesses. The World Council of Churches notes the link between the reign of God and the church's mission of of liberation and its commitment to justice, peace and the integrity of creation.

In this model Christology is seen as the historical witness of Jesus which is present but not yet fully realised. In terms of Ecclesiology, such an understanding of the church points to its radical missionary nature, for it is only in mission that the church continues to be what it is. Jesus' Kingdom ministry of healing, forgiveness and inclusion is at the centre of its life. Salvation is victory over institutional and structural sin and evil but injustice is always lurking and there will need to be prophetic correction.

A Salvationist model: with its proclamation of Christ as universal saviour.

Redemptoris Missio asks "Why mission?" and concludes it is an obligation to proclaim the truth of the newness of life found in Jesus Christ. " .. this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ" (Eph 3.8) The Lausanne Covenant states " To evangelise is to spread the good news that Christ died for our sins and was raised from the dead according to the scriptures..." Ironically this model reveals an exclusivism amongst Evangelicals an Pentecostalists and inclusivism amongst Roman Catholics. in Christological terms, we are only reconciled to God by faith in Christ Jesus and there is no salvation outside the church. The Ecclesiology is therefore urgent and future orientated. Sacrificial atonement and penal substitution become significant in this model: human beings, though created in the image of God, are sinful and guilty and lost without Christ. Mankind needs freedom from death and for eternal glory.

The Lausanne Covenant again: "We believe that the interim period between Christ's ascension and his return is to be filled with mission of the people of God, who have no liberty to stop before the end." In Theological Anthropological terms, all people have the right, in their equality, to hear the gospel but not to have it imposed.

Culture must be challenged and enriched if necessary.

Mission as prophetic dialogue

Mission has to be dialogical and this must be constant. It must also be prophetic as it challenges each new generation. "Only by preaching, serving and witnessing to the reign of God in bold and humble prophetic dialogue will the missionary church be constant in today's context." (Bevans and Schroeder)

The challenge here is that witness must be authentic and there is, therefore, emphasis on justice, peace and the integrity of creation. Mission must include interreligious dialogue because the prophetic demands honesty, conviction, courage and faith. There is a big emphasis on reconciliation including within and between churches.

In this model mission must engage in inculturation because there is a tension between being at home in a culture and challenging its negative aspects.

(O.K. Got that? Welcome back)

In my secular life it is quite clear to me that although I once espoused a Salvationist worldview I have moved well to the left. I know my starting point is Trinitarian - seeing where God is at work and joining in in the best tradition of Missio Dei - but with significant overlays of Liberationism and Prophetic Dialogue.

Isn't it great to discover ones way of doing things has labels? I feel quite reassured: a bit like a patient getting a diagnosis. What I have has a name. Whoopee!

Move over Susan Boyle ...

2010-10-10T18:52:00.000+01:00

... and meet the Tesco checkout girl from Dublin.

Sunday Sermon: The Mustard Seed

2010-10-03T19:28:00.003+01:00

I’m quite a fan of the Lectionary: I often imagine erudite and pious men and women thoughtfully matching passages that go well together as a service to us to make sense of the whole word of God. Today, though, perhaps those people overestimated us. The reading from Luke begins with the apostles crying, "Increase our faith!" but we don't know why. Now possibly you could remember what happened in the preceding verses, but I couldn't. What’s the context here?

I read these words and wondered if the disciples were perpetually anxious or pious but that doesn’t sound much like the disciples as Luke generally presents them. Or perhaps they just felt like you could always use more faith so they just asked for it every once in a while. (Well, we could all do with that attitude, couldn’t we?) Or, possibly they felt they were duty bound to ask for more faith. (Again, who couldn’t?)

After I read back in the passage, I discovered the real reason was simpler than these but also harder. Jesus has just asked the disciples to do something they know they cannot do. He tells them, "If a person sins against you seven times a day and turns back to you seven times and says, 'I repent,' you must forgive." If we ponder the daily practicalities of that for a moment we should all be horrified: that is indeed a hard road to travel.

In one of the other Gospel versions of this story, Peter asks Jesus, "Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?" Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.” Or to put it another way, an infinite number of times. Challenging or what?

No wonder the disciples were begging for an increase. Perhaps they could forgive seven times in a lifetime, but seven times a day? Even Mother Teresa couldn't do that. I ceertainly couldn’t.

The disciples are more like us than we are often willing to acknowledge. They are willing to do what is reasonable and even exceptional to follow Jesus. They have left their homes and their jobs and their families to travel with their Master, but now Jesus begins to ask impossible tasks and they don't know how to do them. As a matter of fact, they know they can't do them.

When they come to this brick wall, they want him to wave some magic wand. They want him to give them some superhuman powers to do what they know in their hearts cannot be done. They want some blueprint, some clear manual, that offers seven steps for being a disciple. You may all be too young to remember an American initiative called the Five Spiritual Laws that were doing the rounds in Evangelical circles some years ago, but they wanted something like that. Not that there was anything wrong with the Five Spiritual Laws as such but they weren’t, of course, the simple answer we assumed they would be.

In short, the Disciples wanted to be transformed, but they didn't really believe they could be. Does that ring any bells? They had become so accustomed to seeing their world as it was that they couldn’t imagine the world as God wants it to be. They couldn’t imagine seeing the people who have wronged them as their brothers and sisters instead of villains.

Here we are a few days after the election of the new Labour leader and most of us have known for a long time if we are red or blue or orange – maybe green (you know, when they show the map election night and colour the cocnstituencies according to which party won there). The pundits tell us that our nation has become politically cynical and the voting statistiscs seem to support that. This usually means that those who vote are the really ideologically committed and so the results are skewed and the country seems more starkly divided along ideological grounds than it actually is. So deep is the division that most of the time we cannot even talk to one another much less hear the piece of the truth the other person has to say. American politics seems even more polarised.

My mother is an ardent Tory and I mean ardent. She is only slightly to the left of Atilla the Hun. Once I asked her, "How do you get along with your friends who are vote Labour or Lib Dem?" and she said, "I don't think I have any friends who vote Labour or Lib Dem."

We think the world is red or blue or orange, and we cannot imagine that there is an identity deeper than that. Our world so readily gives us labels and we much too readily accept them. Just ask someone one of those red-line questions: immigration, the E.U., gay marriage, abortion, and immediately when they answer you think that you know who that other person is. Watch a stranger on a bus read a newspaper and, if you can see the name of the paper, you probably know their voting profile and their stance on any number of political and social issues. Our response to them may well be shaped by the perceptions we have just had about them.

Once we have that identity fixed, it's hard to believe anything else. Yet Jesus says if a person repents seven times in one day, seven times we are to see them afresh as a child of God. Jesus calls us to look again at the person who has wronged us and see them as God sees them: not as a villain but as a child of God capable of sin. Forgiveness is not about whitewashing the past; it's about seeing the present in a new light and looking toward a future of redemption. Forgiveness insists that the people are not red, blue, orange or green. Or male and female; black, white, brown or yellow; straight or gay; working class or middle class or any number of the false categories we use to pigeonhole people. Instead we all belong to the flock with Jesus as the shepherd.

No wonder the disciples cried, "Increase our faith." Jesus is calling for them to see their reality in a new way. Since they don't know how to do this, Jesus gives them an answer, but it's not the one they expect. He tells them, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you say to this mulberry tree, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea, and it would obey you." The disciples want a diagram for getting from point A to point B, but they don't get one. Faith isn't a game plan for solving our problems, nor is faith understanding why things are the way they are. At the end of the day, faith isn't about answers.

Faith is about the love of God through Jesus Christ. Faith is about being grasped by Jesus so that we know in our heart and bones that our lives and his life and the life of the world are mixed together. Once that happens, we see ourselves and our neighbours and our world in a completely fresh way. Once that happens, we know that the only thing that matters is that love and that the only reality is grace. Once that happens, we can forgive because we are new creations; and, therefore, we see everyone else as a new creation.

The hard truth is that we cannot earn this gift nor can we achieve it. It's a gift. All we have to do is open up a little and God does the rest. We need faith the size of a mustard seed; that is, we need a small crack in our frozen hearts and God will transform us.

When we think about whether we can change the world, we always despair. But let us remember it's not about us, it's about God working through us. We can do little, but is there anything God can’t do? Our task is to pray for faith and to trust in the giver.

And the truth is, it doesn't take much. A word, a touch, a gesture can give us a fresh perspective. It only takes a faith the size of a mustard seed for God to transform us.

Have you ever read "To Kill a Mockingbird"? I was on detention duty last week and some of the kids were doing catch-up reading for their literature. Supervising detention is very boring – one step away from spiritual death - and so I picked up a copy and as I browsed I came to the point where the white men came at night and surround the jail where Tom, the black man, wrongly accused of a crime, was held? The men are a mob. They don’t see Tom; they only see an enemy because of how they have categorised him and they are blinded by rage. Scout, a little girl, (It can only be an American story) watches them. Her father tells her to run away and go home. But Scout doesn't run, and she doesn't fight. Instead she finds the right word that becomes the mustard seed.

Scout looks at one of the men in the mob and says, "Hey Mister Cunningham, don't you remember me? I go to school with Walter. He's your boy, ain't he? We brought him home for dinner one time. Tell your boy 'hey' for me, will you?"

There was a long pause. Then the big man separated himself from the mob, squatted down and took Scout by both her shoulders. "I'll tell him you said 'hey,' little lady." He left and one by one the mob dispersed.
The girl whispered the words of grace. She gave the mustard seed of faith that opened the man's eyes and heart and soul. Instead of a red, blue, orange or green world, it's a world of grace. God whispers those words every day in every place. May we be open enough to receive.
Let us pray.

Gracious God, because we so often lose our way and become blind, open our eyes to see our brothers and sisters as truly our brothers and sisters. We pray for you to open our hearts to your life-giving grace so that we might know more of you and become instruments of your will. We ask these things in the name of our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.

(With grateful thanks to The Right Rev. Porter Taylor for the ideas as this was a very short notice sermon due to someone else’s illness.)

Who'd have thought it?

2010-09-29T21:19:00.002+01:00

We have a new leader of the opposition, Edward Miliband. He is secretly Jewish.

Oh, no. Hang on a minute, that's not right. He CLAIMS to be Jewish but he is in fact a SECRET MUSLIM. Yeah. That's right. That's what I heard on the INTERNET anyway.

He has two brothers: David Miliband and Glen Miller Band

Sunday Sermon: The Rich Man and Lazarus

2010-09-23T17:24:00.005+01:00

Luke 16.19-31

Three friends die in a car crash, and they find themselves at the Gates of Heaven. Before entering, they are each asked a question by St. Peter himself :
"When the funeral service is taking place and your friends and families are talking about you, what would you like to hear them say about you?" asks St. Peter to each in turn.

The first man says, "I would like to hear them say that I was a great doctor and a great family man."

The second man says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and a teacher who made a huge difference to our children."

The last man replies. "I would like to hear them say.... LOOK !!! HE'S MOVING!!!!!"

No, I’ve not gone mad. I start with that as an illustration: given time, I suspect each of you could come up with a joke about the afterlife and today’s Gospel reading illustrates that there were stories about the hereafter at the time of Jesus too.

What we need to recognise straight away is that the parable teaches absolutely nothing about the nature of the afterlife and it was not intended to; it does not document either heaven or hell, although it may have been the foundation for many of the erroneous beliefs about "hell" within some branches of Christianity. No, Jesus is merely playing around with a folktale. The difference is that we tell our afterlife jokes to amuse: Jesus told his to challenge a group of people – The Pharisees. The passage tells us: “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and Scribes were grumbling…”

Now the nature of a parable is that it has two levels of meaning: there is the literal meaning – what you see is what you get – but there is always another level, often more obscure and it is this level that carries the real punch. It’s a story with a hidden message: a spiritual nugget for those who understand. “I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand” we hear from Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel. (Ch 13)

But this time it seems that the Disciples and the other “ordinary” folk – tax collectors and sinners - didn’t get the meaning but the Pharisees did.
But let’s not jump ahead of ourselves.

Let’s consider the literal meaning first.

The rich man in this story lives a life of ostentatious comfort, while Lazarus suffers right outside the gates of his house. The rich man's preoccupation with wealth, and their different social status, prevents him from acknowledging Lazarus or reaching out to ease his suffering during his lifetime. Both men die: Lazarus likely of starvation and the rich man?

Well, it’s tempting to imagine his cause of death as an over-indulgence linked heart attack or stroke. Lazarus goes to heaven; and the rich man to Hades and in the afterlife their roles are reversed, with Lazarus resting in the "bosom of Abraham" and the rich man suffering the torments of Hades. As Martin Luther wrote on this passage: “He lived to himself and served only himself….and by these dreadful and wicked fruits of unbelief, he covers them over and blinds his own eyes by the good works of his Pharisaical life.”

Just because this is the literal story and Jesus’ message is really to be found in the hidden meaning doesn’t mean that we can’t take a moral from this level of understanding. We can. We can talk quite reasonably about a practical application to our attitude to wealth and status, or at least relative wealth and status. I need to make this parable real for me otherwise it will remain as a mildly interesting religious story without the power to touch me. I need to find an application to my daily life: I don’t have a starving beggar living on my doorstep but, as it happens, I do find beggars in general, alcoholics and addicts, often aggressive and all rolled into the same person, a real problem.

How about you? Who is it that you don’t see? Who is your Lazarus? Is it about race, sexuality, gender, age, disability, social class, weight, political affiliation? What? Be quite clear that in those terms you can take a valid personal application from this understanding of the story.

So the parable works on that level because there is a challenge there to living the Christian life and serving the outcast and the marginalised out of obedient discipleship and we can read the parables in this section of Luke as illustrating faithfulness or unfaithfulness to the injunction to compassion, and see the possession of wealth as a stumbling block to that compassion. The Rich Man wasn't even a little merciful to Lazarus in his lifetime; he was blinded to the needs of compassion by his own wealthy lifestyle. Lazarus, by contrast, was forced to live a life relying on mercy and compassion.

Now this is the third in a series of parables which Jesus told to the same audience: the others were the Prodigal Son and the Unfaithful Servant and this idea of compassion versus wealth seems to work equally well for all three. Well, the ending of the parable in this interpretation is a little problematic but some scholars say that the latter verses are not original, so we could put them on one side, just concentrate on the folktale element and we have a perfectly valid application of a Biblical story which is that it is not sufficient merely not to do evil and not to do harm, but rather that one must be helpful and do good.

One is tempted to say that what happens in the death of our protagonists is a role reversal except that such a conclusion would be too literal an interpretation and would lead us down all sorts of misleading and unhelpful roads in relation to the afterlife.

Or, we could struggle with the hidden meaning where the latter verses are vital to the whole, addition or not. One of the keys to unpicking this level of understanding is to recognise that the key characters almost always stand for someone else. Well, we only have three – unless you include the dogs – The Rich Man, Lazarus and Abraham. (And it seems we should include the dogs because many scholars don’t think they are there are there as a throw away detail).

Actually, let’s start with the dogs, as they may be the key to unlocking the puzzle. Do you remember the account of Jesus meeting a gentile woman: a woman from Syrophoenecia? The story is found in Mark’s Gospel. Jesus is initially very harsh with her: “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” He just called her a dog, which was how the Gentiles were seen, so who are the children in that story? The Jews.

It is the same in this parable. Lazarus, unclean because of his sores, is comforted by and associated with, the dogs: unclean animals in Jewish belief and the Rich Man would certainly not have had one in his house. Lazarus is being presented as the outsider, the Gentile. At the same time the Rich Man is being identified with the Jews. The references to his clothes as being purple with fine linen identify him symbolically with the priestly caste of Israel. So, on his death it would be only right and proper for him to go to the bosom of his father Abraham and take the seat of honour beside him. But no, it is the outsider, Lazarus who takes the place of honour at the spiritual banquet hitherto reserved for the Jews, while the Rich Man is cast away. Note too the reference to the Rich man’s five brothers, another important symbolic clue to the Rich Man’s identity: Judah, the father of the Jews had five brothers. This detail cements the identity of the Rich Man as the House of Judah – the Jews.

You and I may not have spotted that without help but the Pharisees knew their history and were proud of their heritage. They got the references alright and they didn’t like it.

Yes, well, very interesting but so what? What has this to do with me?
Well the stories of the Syrophoenecian woman, the Centurion with his Servant, the parable of the Good Samaritan and a number of others, open up the prospect that Gentile believers would become “sons of Abraham” through faith in Christ. The Jews had been Abraham’s physical descendants, but after the crucifixion the place of honour and blessing would be given to the people represented by Lazarus. That’s you and me and potentially most of the people we know.

The self-righteous, accusing Pharisees and scribes, who were the religious authorities, should have been the ones telling these people of God's love for them. They should have been the ones teaching the sinners, exhorting them to return to God and receive His love and forgiveness. However, because of their faith in their own righteousness and their contempt for these common people who didn't measure up to their standards, the Pharisees and scribes excluded them and considered them outside the scope of God’s grace. Jesus had already warned them in Ch 3.8: “Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’

And what of the ending which didn’t get much attention in the literal understanding of the story? It’s key here: the ending points beyond the parable to Jesus. The Pharisees will not believe even when Jesus is raised. Remember, the disciples were themselves sceptical initially.
Not even the proverbial visitor from the dead would convince the elite to recognize the needs of the poor. Neither does Jesus’ resurrection have the power to create faith, if one does "not listen to Moses and the prophets”, which consistently direct us to caring for the poor, not being greedy and to giving alms.

Now this is quite a different understanding of the story to the first and yet in many respects the outcome is the same in terms of its practical application: in either understanding of this parable we need to talk about our obedient discipleship in the way we relate as Christians to others. From the literal understanding of the story we can legitimately talk about understanding our own prejudices and recognising the other in our society to whom we need to express the love and compassion of God. We can then work out ways in which we can be servants of those people in our charitable giving, in our volunteering of time and in our attitudes when we meet them.

If we consider the hidden meaning of the parable we are confronted again with issues of obedient discipleship in the way we relate to others. This time, though, our responsibility lies in recognising that it is not for us to seek to put limits on God’s grace. The task here surely lies in our being willing to see God in those we come into contact with, regardless of who they are and to trust the Holy Spirit that those same people will see God in us. This is our Christian witness and the Spirit works through us to convict others of their sin and to bring them back to God – whoever they are.

Fabulous!

2010-09-21T19:01:00.006+01:00

(Irish dancers Suzanne Cleary and Peter Harding)

It brings a smile to my face every time.

Thanks to Strelizia

The Pope, the Tabloids, Winterval and that Muslim plot to kill him

2010-09-18T18:55:00.018+01:00

I just happened to catch a glimpse of today's Daily Express headline "Pope's plea to save Christmas from the P.C. brigade" as I meandered through the supermarket with my beloved. I didn't pick it up, of course, what with it being toxic and therefore dangerous: all that bile spills out. I couldn't help reading Pope Benedict XVI yesterday made an impassioned plea for Britain to return to its Christian values and condemned the “politically correct brigade” who dismiss Christmas though. Gosh , politically correct brigade in speech marks. I suppose he must have said it then. Strange, though, how this German should use the sort of English beloved of the right-wing press.

I haven't taken a lot of notice of the Pope's visit to Britain. I don't feel particularly strongly one way or the other about it and I don't intend to turn out either to celebrate or to protest. I do hope he has a good visit, though, and that Britain's Catholics feel the spiritual benefit. I have to add that I feel rather sad for him with all that he has to shoulder right now: the poor man might be able to do something in his infallibility about his church's attitude to women's ministry, contraception, reproductive rights and its hateful attitude to homosexuality but I don't see him as personally culpable for the sexual abuse other priests have perpetrated against children. Even if his knee-jerk reaction might have been to play it down initially, he seems to have been quite proactive of late in rooting out those who were in some way complicit by action or lack of action. I've never felt that the top man falling on his sword for the limitations of those below him makes much sense.

Anyway, back to the Daily Express. I'm pretty sure the Pope had more important things to say than lament about the downplaying of Christmas. Assuming of course that you believe Christmas has been downplayed.

Doorman-Poirot investigates. I found the text of his speech. No: as I thought, not even a passing reference to Christmas. Nor, indeed one to Political Correctness, which is, of course, the bete noir of the right wing tabloids.

The Pope actually said Today, the United Kingdom strives to be a modern and multicultural society. In this challenging enterprise, may it always maintain its respect for those traditional values and cultural expressions that more aggressive forms of secularism no longer value or even tolerate. Let it not obscure the Christian foundation that underpins its freedoms; and may that patrimony, which has always served the nation well, constantly inform the example your Government and people set before the two billion members of the Commonwealth and the great family of English-speaking nations throughout the world.

Who could disagree with that most reasonable of prayers?

Perhaps the Daily Express had got it wrong. I know! Let's look at the Daily Mail, that bastion of all things truthful in our media.

Oh.

"Popes Battle to save Christmas."

Perhaps I misread the Pope's speech.

No. Unless there were two speeches.

Quick INTERNET search. No, just the one at this stage in his visit.

How odd.

Let's try the Sun then. The Pontiff let rip at the politically correct knuckleheads who deem [Christmas] offensive to other faiths ... He urged his VIP audience to use their "respective spheres of influence" to help turn back a tide that has seen Christmas renamed Winterval.

Really? I'm sorry but I just don't read that in the Pope's text.

How about the Daily Star? Speaking to a packed Westminster Hall in London, he urged people to turn their backs on the use of words like “Winterval” to describe the festival of Jesus’s birth.

Enough. ENOUGH. He didn't say anything of the sort! What is it with these people?

Aha! Sanity at last. Let's hear it for the Guardian (An article from 2006) Now all is made clear.

How audacious of the tabloids to plant these words in the mouth of the Pope. This isn't a simple misquotation, it is telling outrageous lies in an attempt to give legitimacy to their agenda in the confidence that a supine public will soak it up like sponges. I hope (but doubt) that he sues.

And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse I heard on the radio that a group of London street cleaners had been arrested on suspicion of plotting to do harm to the Pope. They had, it seems, the shift that would have seen them cleaning along the Pope's route in the early hours, giving them plenty of time to plot dastardly things.

The Daily Mirror gave us Six street cleaners arrested as cops foil plot to Kill the Pope It did have the good grace to refer to an "alleged" plot and was circumspect when it said It was feared the men were planning to plant bombs in bins to blow up the 83-year-old as he travelled through Central London on the second day of his UK trip. Thousands of innocent people would have been caught up in the blasts. and it was helpful to note Officers had insisted there was no intelligence warning of attacks on the pontiff. Sources said it suggested the threat was received in the last 24 hours and police took a "safety first" approach.

It wasn't perhaps quite so helpful to point out that the six men were of Algerian or Moroccan descent. Such details lead to speculation and rumour. And so the Daily Mail joins up the dotted lines and gives us Armed officers detained the men, all believed to be Muslims ... but also accurately pointed out A few hours earlier, counter-terrorism officers had been tipped off that the men could have been planning to ‘harm’ Pope Benedict XVI or carry out some sort of atrocity to coincide with his visit. With only a short time to assess the credibility of the information, Yard chiefs authorised their arrests but then rather spoilt it by adding Their response reflected the nervousness which surrounds the visit of the leader of the world’s Roman Catholics – who prompted outrage four years ago when he said the Prophet Muhammad had brought the world only ‘evil and inhuman’ things.

That's a big jump into speculation and by now the India Times is reporting Al Qaeda Plot to Kill Pope Benedict XVI Foiled In London By Scotland Yard .

The Daily Star takes an altogether different view Coleen Rooney hopes to meet the Pope after infidelity and illness tested her faith Always with their finger on the pulse, the Star. It did go on to note Armed police were last night guarding the Pope after an alleged plot to assassinate him was smashed Although one wonders how a plot which is merely a plot can be smashed. If it isn't a plot, there's nothing to smash. The Star helpfully went on to point out that the suspects hailed from Algeria, which is plagued by terrorism. I don't know about you but I think in making that link an idea is being planted. The Sun adds, darkly, that They are said to have only recently started work there which is obviously deeply suspicious.

But, as ever, the prize for the best story must go to the Daily Express who gave us Islamic terrorists disguised as street cleaners allegedly hatched an audacious plot to blow up the Pope Wow, Islamic Terrorists disguised as street cleaners on our streets allegedly plotting. Doesn't really work that, does it? It is an interesting juxtaposition of "terrorist" and "alleged". The Express went way further than the other papers in its baseless speculation It is feared plotters with links to Al Qaeda planned “a double blow to the infidel” by assassinating the head of the Roman Catholic church and slaughtering hundreds of pilgrims and well-wishers Again, note the use of speechmarks. Who was it, one wonders, who actually said this? And finally, just in case they turn out not be terrorists the Express has an escape clause An investigation is also under way to determine if the foreign nationals had entered Britain legally and were entitled to work here

So far then we have been told that they are Algerian - or perhaps Moroccan, are Muslims, they come from countries where terrorism is rife, they are recently employed bogus workers and they were plotting as an Al Qaeda cell to blow up the Pope and countless bystanders. Or they might just be illegal immigrants which to the tabloids is almost as bad as being a fully fledged terrorist.

All of these make today's Guardian-on-line headline Street cleaners who were arrested on Friday said to pose no credible threat and have been released without charge something of an anti-climax.

Still, in tabloidland there's no smoke without fire.

Don't hold your breath for a retraction or apology any time soon.

A challenging read for people of faith

2010-09-18T14:15:00.004+01:00

I am a great fan of the Guardian writer Polly Toynbee. Even if I don't agree with her, which is rare, I always find her articles pertinent and challenging. No great fan - indeed often a cynic - when it comes to institutional religion I found her recent article "Sex and Death lie at the poisoned heart of religion" worth more than one read.

As Ben Goldacre pointed out in this paper on Saturday, while this pope claims condoms "aggravate the problem" of HIV/Aids, two million die a year. Ann Widdecombe's riposte that the Catholic church runs more Aids clinics than any single nation was like suggesting the Spanish Inquisition ran the best rehab clinics for torture victims.

Women's bodies are the common battleground, symbols of all religions' authority and identity. Cover them up with veil or burqa, keep them from the altar, shave their heads, give them ritual baths, church them, make them walk a step behind, subject them to men's authority, keep priests celibately free of women, unclean and unworthy. Eve is the cause of all temptation in Abrahamic faiths. Only by suppressing women can priests and imams hold down the power of sex, the flesh and the devil. The Church of England is on the point of schism over gay priests, women bishops and African homophobia. The secular world looks on in utter perplexity.

That's quite a taster. Do read the whole thing.

Apparently there should be no Mosque at Ground Zero.......

2010-09-15T19:18:00.008+01:00

....even though there was a Muslim prayer room on the 17th floor of the South Tower before it was destroyed. That is the true Ground Zero Mosque surely? How has that truly significant piece of news been kept from the public? That throws the "This is sacred ground which can't be tarnished by Islam because it dishonours the victims" argument right out of the window. And what about the Muslim victims? Have they been airbrushed out of history? At the moment the plane hit the South Tower there would have been Muslims at prayer there.

"Given the vitriolic opposition now to the proposal to build a Muslim community center two blocks from ground zero, one might say something else has been destroyed: the realization that Muslim people and the Muslim religion were part of the life of the World Trade Center." (The New York Times, Sept 10th 2010)

So easily forgotten in the current climate

2010-09-13T19:28:00.002+01:00

"And I should like to assure you, my Islamic friends, that under the American Constitution, under American tradition, and in American hearts, this Center, this place of worship, is just as welcome as could be a similar edifice of any other religion. Indeed, America would fight with her whole strength for your right to have here your own church and worship according to your own conscience.

This concept is indeed a part of America, and without that concept we would be something else than what we are."

President Dwight David Eisenhower, June 28. 1957
At the dedication of the Islamic Center in Washington, DC

(Hat tip to Burr Deming)

Quran burning: he will, he won't, he will, he won't, will he? He didn't! Oh look. He went and did it!

2010-09-10T17:17:00.023+01:00

This has been all over the media here. Pastor Terry Jones from the Dove World Outreach Centre Church in Florida has threatened to burn multiple copies of the Quran on Sept 11th as a protest against....well, all sorts of things really.

The Dove World Outreach Centre Church? You sort of know what's coming don't you? This is no mainstream denomination. It is a pentecostal-style set-up with a congregation of between 30 and 50. The sort of place where pastors work who are trained at the Hicksville Southern Baptist Bible College (no formal academic qualifications required to teach). Oh, but it's even worse than that. Pastor - or as we must now call him - "pastor" Terry Jones is both self taught and self ordained. How can one self ordain? Can one self ordain?

No.

Ordination requires specific regulated academic standards in theology and doctrine from accredited theological colleges and authorisation by a recognised denomination. Hatred of Muslims isn't a required qualification for ordination: well not on this side of the Atlantic anyway.

So, why does he want to burn copies of the Quran? Initially this was some vague protest which seemed "appropriate" to the anniversary of 9/11 (or for British readers 11/9). It now seems to have become linked with the prospective building of a new (which isn't new because it is an extension of property already owned by the Muslim authorities) mosque (which isn't a mosque but a cultural centre) at Ground Zero (which isn't at Ground Zero but several blocks away) - but let's not let factual inaccuracy get in the way of a good bit of Muslim bashing. He has been on Facebook holding a Quran and claiming that "This book is responsible for 9/11" I may go on and hold up a copy of the Bible and say "This book is responsible for the Crusades and the Holocaust." It's not the books. It's the misguided people who read and interpret the books against their prevailing doctrine and morality. Can you blame all Christians for all time for the Crusades? Of course not. Can you blame all Muslims in the same way for 9/11? Apparently so in some of the less logical branches of the American Right and that is both mad and dangerous. Dangerous to us all. If it was Just "Pastor" Jones one might just be tempted to feel that whatever came his way as a result of his actions would be well deserved and little mourned, but that is more of a Buddhist worldview and we are required to love and forgive this man. The way of the disciple is indeed hard.

"Pastor" Jones shows all the signs of early-onset Republicanism in his intolerance of diversity and active fear and hatred of Islam. He seems to believe that an act of gross provocation such as burning Qurans is somehow sending a message to Muslims that America will not take any more! "Where do we draw the line?" he asks.

Any more what? What line? What exactly is it that we are all being asked to stand up against? Well, Muslim extremism and terrorism of course. (Plus creeping Shara law and the fifth column enemy within. That goes without saying - although some are saying it.)

So let me just get this right then. Burning Qurans is going to send a message to Muslim extremists? You bet it will, and the ramifications of this ill thought through strategy will be wholesale bloodshed and murder. Already Jones has the death of two men on his conscience, and he has only threatened to burn the books: two Afghan men were shot in an attack on a NATO base in Afghanistan. A NATO base run by Germans, who most of us know aren't Americans. The cry now goes up "Kill the Christians!" as reported in my newspaper. So potentially anyone of European, Australasian or North American background becomes fair game.

Wonderful!

Thanks Mr. Jones.

Even his mayor, Craig Lowe has come out against him, saying he is "Part of a fringe group and an embarrassment to our community."

Ah, but all is well. He has been in contact with the Imam at the new (but not new) Mosque (which is not a mosque) at Ground Zero (which isn't at Ground Zero) who has agreed to a trade off. No Book burning and no Mosque.

Hang on. That doesn't sound credible.

No. The Imam concerned denies any such conversation.

Of the two, guess where my money goes on the honesty, integrity and reliability stakes?

What is this man doing? What is he about? Publicity of course. How wonderful in today's democracy that one lone nutter can cause the world to hold its breath. One lone nutter, who is NOT an ordained minister; whose "church" is NOT affiliated to any denomination; one lone nutter who has a support base of 30-50; one lone nutter who was thrown out of his previous "church" for "financial irregularities" - also known in plain-speaking as theft.

And this man commands the media? Or perhaps more to the point, the media flocked to him and thus lit the blue touch paper via the oxygen of publicity and a non-story became international news and, once again, we are left speculating to what extent the press, our guardians of free speech, have reported or made the news. Of course it is wonderful that he has been universally condemned but he has still scored a victory for those hardy "Christian" zealots who support this brand of provocative anti-Muslim insanity: now the Westboro Baptists have jumped on the bandwagon - those role-models of all things good in Christianity.

Book burning is cultural vandalism and aggression. The Romans and the Christians did it to Hebrew scripture; the Catholics did it to Lutheran texts; the Nazis did it to "decadent" writings; the Serbs did it to Bosnian-Muslim writings. It's been going on down the ages. What great examples to follow while making a recruitment drive for Al Qaida.

For those of us viewing the furore from this side of the Atlantic it continues to remain a mystery that Christianity - albeit a form of Christianity Jesus would not recognise - has become profoundly intertwined with political agendas and the concept of patriotism allowing such feelings to be hijacked by the conservative populists who take Fox News as gospel and love Glen Beck and right-wing shock-jocks on the radio. A climate of fear has been stirred up and President Obama himself, remember, is deemed by many on the right to be anti-American and, of course, a secret Muslim because he doesn't wear his church attendance on his sleeve. This is the politics of division and fear which has polarised the political landscape, marginalised, ignored, misrepresented and upset the relatives of the dead who are being invoked as supporters of a cause many do not support, which potentially leads to the scapegoating of Muslim citizens, the burning of holy books and the banning of places of worship. This is no way to commemorate those who died on the planes, in the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon.

Ceremonies commemorating 9/11 should be peaceful, dignified and respectful and not sidetracked by inflammatory sideshows. Let's pray that this aberration of a "Christian" gets the message.

Could I suggest you all listen to Radio4's Thought For The Day for Sept 10th with Dr. Mona Siddiqui

UPDATE:

On 20th March, largely ignored by the mainstream media, Mr. Jones went ahead and burnt a Quran. The power of Blogs, Facebook and Twitter in this age ensured the story spread like wildfire.

The consequence of this (so far) has been the death of seven U.N. workers in a mob riot in Northern Afghanistan. No doubt there will be more to come.

Mr Jones takes no responsibility for these deaths. "We find it very tragic any time that someone is murdered but we do not feel any responsibility for that." (The Observer 03.04.11) Someone needs to take this man on one side and spell out the nature of cause and effect to him.

He added "It definitely does indicate that there is a very radical element of Islam."

There's a very radical element of Christianity, too, Mr. Jones and you are right up there in the vanguard.

Still, that's what Christianity is all about - if you're pompous, stubborn, self-serving, irresponsible, self-publicising, deluded and dangerous.

Mr. Jones' new organisation is called Stand Up America. Ah someone else hi-jacking the identity of all for his own narrow agenda, akin to the amorphus Moral Majority. The Observer reports that Jones' church has "...put up three signs that that read Islam is of the Devil. A passing dessenter appears to have vandalised them, scrawling over the hate speech a new message that stated: Love all men."

I know it sounds trite but if we follow the model of Jesus when dealing with those of other faith groups, even those who were despised, you don't find him being provocative. What you get is courteous engagement: Jesus with the Centurion and Jesus with the Syro-Phoenecian woman for a starter and then the iconic story of the Good Samaritan, where Jesus deliberately makes a marginalised and despised foreigner the hero of his parable. Why? To make a point Mr. Jones hasn't learnt!

Official: God DIDN'T create the Universe - apparently

2010-09-08T19:16:00.008+01:00

Good Grief: Stephen Hawking has been all over the media because of his new book, The Grand Design which, in tabloid-speak, said that there is no God - or at least if there is, he didn't design the universe. I still find it odd that in a largely secularised society the media is willing to devote so many splash headlines and column inches to issues of religion marginal to most of their readers. As it happens the book is not a deconstruction of theism: God hardly gets even a passing mention so I'm guessing that, true to form, the tabloid journalists haven't actually read the book.

"It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the Universe going." is Prof. Hawking's conclusion. That's hardly a ringing endorsement of Atheism but we'll let that pass. In answer to the question he posed in an earlier book, "Why does the Universe bother to exist?" Prof. Hawking now believes in spontaneous creation. Well, that's fine as far as it goes but as an argument it still doesn't seem to deal with the issue of why?

Call me a died-in-the-wool theist but I still have a huge problem with the idea of spontaneous creation from nothing. If there is nothing, how can it spontaneously become something? O.K. I am not a scientist but I do try to keep up with the debate as much as I am able and I couldn't help but note that Prof. Hawking's writing - from the quotes I read in various sources - is quite tentative: he uses words and phrases like "could be" and "seems to be".

We also need to recognize that when scientists talk of "nothing" they don't mean nothing in quite the same way that theologians do. When scientists talk of "nothing" they actually tend to mean quite a complicated sort of "something": quantum fields acting on quantum vacuum of space time; string theory; M Theory with its vibrating strings in space/time. (And no, I don't understand those ideas, so please don't ask.)

But if one concludes, as Prof. Hawking does, that "It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper" that is not at all the same as saying "There is no God" so I am not quite sure how his argument sheds any light on the God question. There is no Nietzsche-like statement that God is dead in Prof. Hawking's new writings.

To what extent does it matter? Well, one has to wonder. Have a significant number of Theists had their faith undermined? I would doubt it, but of course I don't know for sure. The media outlets will spin the story to all sorts of conclusions that Prof. Hawking probably never intended. If one reads the editorialized critiques of the book rather than the book itself, who knows what conclusions one might draw?

While I am fascinated in Cosmology and arguments that attempt to prove the existence of God from that perspective, I prefer the argument from personal experience. To me the problem with the Hawking dismissal of a God lighting the blue touch-paper and then retiring from the arena, is that it seems to be missing the point because Theists don't generally accept that God did step back. Those of us who talk of a God who walks with us and sustains us and therefore, logically, the universe, don't subscribe to the idea of God in terms of a one-off creative force.

So, why is there something rather than nothing?

The dangers of sharing a room

2010-09-04T08:56:00.004+01:00

It's been all over the papers. The Foreign Secretary, William Hague, has been discovered to have been sharing a room with one of his staff. Or to put it in Tabloid-speak, with a young, male aid.

Ergo, he must be gay and cheating on his wife.

What is it with our newspapers and perhaps with our prurient appetite for sleaze - or alleged sleaze?

So, if you share a room with someone of the same sex you are gay.

Blimey!

I've been on four choral tours. In approximately seven continental hotels with their are-they-doubles-are-they-two-singles-pushed-together bed arrangements, I have shared with the same male friend who is a decade younger than me. Why? Because we are mates, we enjoy each other's company and it's cheaper than two singles. May a politician and his aid - of whatever age - not be able to sit up late laughing and joking and sharing a few beers because they like each other and get on well?

Mr. Hague is a Government Minister. His government is implementing some of the most austere financial measures seen in this country for decades. Sharing a room sounds like setting a sound fiscal example to me.

The E.D.L. - English Defence League - in Bradford: 28.08.10

2010-08-28T18:21:00.038+01:00

I woke up this morning to hear Nick Lowles of Hope Not Hate on the radio discussing free speech in relation to today's demonstration by the English Defence League in Bradford City Centre.

Given that the Home Secretary, Theresa May, had already ruled that a proposed march through the predominantly Muslim part of the city was an act of gross provocation and would not take place, I was surprised that a static demonstration was. On reflection enough members of the EDL would have turned up anyway and been a nuisance that I suppose the police had no choice, even though a significant number of Bradford's citizens had signed a petition against the whole thing. This meant for plenty of publicity.

The EDL, for those not attuned to the finer points of the British extreme right, is a loose confederation of racist groups and individuals who seem to spend their Saturday afternoons wreaking havoc in our city centres.

They are against terrorism and extremism.

Who isn't?

They claim not to be against Islam as such, just the suicide bombers.

Hard to disagree there either.

But such relatively sane rhetoric, as found on their website, is not matched by the reality on the ground.

So back to free speech.

I've always thought it somewhat overrated.

Rights have to be balanced against responsibilities and the right of an EDL member to scream offensive, racist expletives drunkenly in the face of a woman because she is wearing a headscarf isn't a right worth fighting for, balanced against her right to walk the streets unmolested.

Leeds City station had a significant police presence but my train was surprisingly empty. The twenty minute amble from one city to its near neighbour passed through two other minor stations both of which had a conspicuous police presence.

I had attended a similar rally last year in Leeds and there was a huge sense of deja vu as the day unfolded: it almost felt choreographed.

Initially the demonstration area seemed to be holding its breath as groups of people stood around eying each other up as if deciding which side of the street to stand on. "Are they on my side?"

There was a huge police presence. I got chatting to a personable officer who turned out to have been bused in from Newcastle. He told me that he thought there were about 1,100 police on duty and he and his mate totted up nine different regional forces involved. The EDL laughably over-inflated the size of their demonstration: however many 53 seater buses arrive, if there are only 12-15 guys - and they were all guys - on board each, that doesn't amount to the ravaging throng found on P644 of the Old Testament.

The police estimate was something in the region of 700 which is pretty pathetic as this was billed to be the Big One which would bring 10,000 "patriotic" Englishmen on to the streets. They all matched the stereotype of everything which isn't the flower of English manhood: a shared I.Q. of 12 and a reading age probably considerably lower, bad teeth, beer guts, plenty of visible tattoos, shaven heads, corporate ugliness of appearance and manner and lots of St. George's flags, together with a couple of Stars of David. Doesn't being anti-Islam make for some strange bedfellows?

They were all dead brave, gesturing from their buses, gurning and shouting at the good citizens of Bradford. Equally brave in the same behaviour from behind several lines of police in full riot gear and a hundred yards of cleared road between them and the public. The banners were predictable - if not quite on the "reasonable" message its organisers would wish to promote.

"No more Mosques"

"You aren't English"

"No to Sharia Law"

"They're obsessed with Sharia Law." one Asian youth I was standing next to noted. "We don't even have it here and no-one I know wants it." He and I talked about how propaganda doesn't need a basis in truth and we also talked about the irresponsible role of our tabloid press in being the spokesmen for the far right. "The Daily Express knows Shit!" Couldn't have put it better myself.
"You know we should be flying England flags. It's our flag too." Said another youth.
"I've got one." said his mate and pulled down the waist of his jeans to reveal the waist band of his underpants.

It was at this point that a bridal party arrived at the Midland Hotel, to be cheered by a crowd of about 200 anti-fascist well wishers.

In Bradford the EDL rally was on a piece of land enclosed by a large green wooden fence. The public saw little of them and they saw little of the public although we could hear each other. There was, of course, the ritual attempt at a break out but the whole afternoon was an object lesson in professional policing. We could see missiles, bottles, bricks and the occasional smoke bomb being thrown at the police but they held the line and moved us back to be out of danger.

I was very impressed by the local Muslim youth in their response to the EDL provocation and the policing methods. There was much good humour, albeit accompanied by a great deal of cat-calling.

E-E-EDL from one side and EDL BURN IN HELL from the other. What irked me, almost beyond measure, were the tactics of a small group of anarchists and Socialist Workers. (Nearly called them something similar there) who were determined to rile the police - and failed spectacularly. Every time the police moved us back ("For your own safety Sir") they would start with "Why are you moving us? The enemy's behind you. We haven't done anything. Don't move everyone. Don't cooperate." Whenever a group of mounted police passed by, or riot police, they would boo them. "The police are protecting the fascists" and "How many police are racist?" I moved away in the end.

After one bottle of water I needed a pee and, as nothing much was happening I set off for a coffee and a comfort stop. One visit to the facilities, one latte and a piece of pecan pie later (protest lite?) I returned to my post as near to the centre of it all as I could get. I tried in vain to hear the speeches. Once again I took up my well-thumbed copy of the Book of Revelation to search through the harbingers of apocalypse searching for the words "And lo, it shall come to pass that right-wing fascists shall consider themselves serious thinkers." No: what we got was an exhortation to God to save the Queen and shouts of "Allah, Allah, who the f**k is Allah?" and "We love the floods."

Classy.

My chest remained relaxed with all the breath is wasn't holding waiting for an intelligent speech.

I was impressed by how much better prepared the people of Bradford were for this event than the people of Leeds had been. But then this had been all over the news. At 11.00 there had been a service of prayer in the Cathedral which remained open as a sanctuary with staff in attendance and an alternative "Be Bradford - Peaceful Together" rally was taking place to affirm Bradford's multi-cultural heritage. I was disappointed though that I only saw two dog collars all day where the action was, but all power to them: every time I saw them they were surrounded by people and were talking animatedly. There was even a guy dressed as Santa giving out sweets and telling people that Jesus loved them and that his message was to love our neighbour. It was strangely unsatisfactory in that respect: I would have liked to have seen more clergy about. It is not easy making a Christian witness in a crowd without some method of identification. It really needs to be overt: dog-collars are an obvious way but we needed the sort of banners that were out and proud at the Leeds Pride so that Christians could gather under them and make a powerful statement. something like "Christians against racism" would have done nicely.

The thing is, the EDL have got their side of the choreography down to a fine art: it's pure repetition for them: same clothes, some banners, same flags, same chants. Practice makes perfect. Their unwilling hosts tend not to organise too much, after all (God willing) it's a one-off abberation.

The police have got it down to a fine art too and the public never really got close enough to engage. Under the circumstances I am sure that was appropriate: the atmosphere was potentially volatile, but that meant that, unlike in Leeds, I couldn't talk to any of these guys face to face and I regret that. My conversations with local people were great but, in jeans and a T-shirt, I lacked the gravitas and authority to have much of an impact.

It was only towards the end of the day that things might have turned a bit nasty. One or two hot-heads amongst the local youth were frustrated that they hadn't been able to engage the EDL and were trying to provoke the police who weren't rising to the bait at all.

And then I came across some of my kids from the Knowledge College.

"Hello Sir. What are you doing here? Did you come to see the pond life?"

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Given that we are in a recession and the policing for these ongoing events must have cost enough to go a long way towards the rebuild of my school which that nice Mr. Gove cancelled, one wonders if it might not have been better if Bradford had gone out for the day and left the place empty for the EDL. There's nothing quite like being ignored to deflate the ego.

UPDATE: Just the fifteen arrests.

The English Defence League comes to Bradford.

2010-08-27T19:08:00.003+01:00

Find video link HERE

It is hard to imagine a more provocative act. Prayers for the people of Bradford please.

I shall go and make my quiet Christian protest.

Daily Bread

2010-08-20T12:44:00.002+01:00

“Give us our daily bread today.”

Q. What does this mean?

A. Truly, God gives daily bread to evil people, even without our prayer. But we pray in this request that He will help us realize this and receive our daily bread with thanksgiving.

Q. What does “Daily Bread” mean?

A. Everything that nourishes our body and meets its needs, such as: Food, drink, clothing, shoes, house, yard, fields, cattle, money, possessions, a devout spouse, devout children, devout employees, devout and faithful rulers, good government, good weather, peace, health, discipline, honor, good friends, faithful neighbours and other things like these.

Luther's Small Catechism.

Don't blame me, blame Little Steve

2010-08-17T20:01:00.004+01:00

The UK is in DEEP trouble...

The population of this country is approximately 60 million.

32 million are retired.

That leaves 28 million to do the work..

There are 17 million in school or at Universities.

Which leaves 11 million to do the work..

Of this there are 8 million employed by the UK government.

Leaving 3 million to do the work..

1.2 million are in the armed forces fighting in Afghanistan .

Which leaves 1.8 million to do the work..

Take from that total the 0.8 million people who work for Local County Councils.

And that leaves 1 million to do the work..

At any given time there are 488,000 people in hospitals or claiming Invalidity Benefit.

Leaving 512,000 to do the work..

Now, there are 511,998 people in prisons.

That leaves just two people to do the work..

You and me.

And there you are, Sitting on your bum, at your computer, reading blogs.

Is it any wonder that we are in such a mess and that I am stressed out through trying to cope on my own?

(Cheers Steve)

Impressions of Edinburgh

2010-08-14T15:37:00.005+01:00

(The view from our roof terrace.)

Was it only a fortnight ago?
* One of the first sights I remember on alighting the train: a young man with a t-shirt baring the legend "I only support two teams - Scotland and whoever England is playing." Welcoming, I thought.
* Fond as I am of all things tartan, the presence of pipers every few hundred yards could lead me to pipericide.
* Every kilt-and-heather emporium seemed to be run by men in turbans and little old ladies in saris.
* The dog with one blue eye and one brown eye.
* Meeting old friends from Leeds by accident on that street at that time. What are the chances?
* The capacity of the public to do anything they are asked by street entertainers. "If you two guys could just stand still, I'll stand on your shoulders and juggle carving knives." (Bruce the Aussie)
* The Mosque kitchen: wonderful, wonderful food at give away prices with no frills.
* Hardly a Scottish accent to be heard on the Royal Mile. Probably only every fourth person was a native English speaker.
* Parties of Italian teenagers are possibly the rudest in the world.
* Finding ourselves behind a party of 47 Chinese tourists going into Holyrood Palace.
* Every waitress or guide is from Poland or the Baltic states.
* "Do you have American cough-sweets?" "We cough with a Scottish accent here Madam. You'll have to have ours."
* The Royal yacht Brittania moored incongruously outside Debenhams.
* The incredible changeability of the Edinburgh weather.
* Volunteers from The Cancer Relief charity shop standing outside on a break smoking.
* Why aren't baby spiders told at bedtime to stay away from baths? Why do they never learn?
* The rabbit who we could see in the garden every morning. Rabbit Burns, as he became known.
* The South Koreans at the left luggage department in Waverley Station who found that a polite nod and a "Yes" didn't necessarily suit every occasion.
"Did you pack this bag yourself?" "Yes" (smile and nod) "Could anyone have tampered with it?" "Yes" (smile and nod). "Does it contain any weapons or explosives?" "Yes" (smile and nod). "O.K. Lets try that again....."
* Puting up the prices by 60% for the bloody Festival!

Already booked for next year.

The Internet, the Tabloids and the murky world of misinformation

2010-08-10T14:52:00.006+01:00

I have a couple of friends who send me stuff from the INTERNET that they receive from other friends. I usually pass them on too. Many of them are very funny, showing the infinite stupidity of humanity; others are very clever and creative and some, Dear Reader, are a bit rude. It is rare for me to delete without sending on but there are categories I won't be party to distributing. Here is one (he says, distributing it more widely).

An incident occurred in a supermarket recently, when the following was witnessed: A Muslim woman dressed in a Burkha (A black gown & face mask) was standing with her shopping in a queue at the checkout.

When it was her turn to be served, and as she reached the cashier, she made a loud remark about the Union Jack Flag lapel pin, which the female cashier was wearing on her blouse.

The cashier reached up and touched the pin and said, “Yes, I always wear it proudly. My son serves abroad with the forces and I wear it for him”.

The Muslim woman then asked the cashier when she was going to stop bombing and killing her countrymen, explaining that she was Iraqi.

At that point, a Gentleman standing in the queue stepped forward, and interrupted with a calm and gentle voice, and said to the Iraqi woman:

“Excuse me, but hundreds of thousands of men and women, just like this ladies son have fought and sacrificed their lives so that people just like YOU can stand here, in Britain, which is MY country and allow you to blatantly accuse an innocent check- out cashier of bombing YOUR countrymen”.

“It is my belief that if you were allowed to be as outspoken as that in Iraq which you claim to be YOUR country, then we wouldn’t need to be fighting there today”.

“However - now that you have learned how to speak out and criticise the British people who have afforded you the protection of MY country, I will gladly pay the cost of a ticket to help you pay your way back to Iraq”.

“When you get there, and if you manage to survive for being as outspoken as you are here in Britain, then you should be able to help straighten out the mess which YOUR Iraqi countrymen have got you into in the first place, which appears to be the reason that you have come to MY country to avoid.”

Apparently the queue cheered and applauded.

IF YOU AGREE.. Pass this on to all of your proud British friends..Well, I have also seen an Australian version of this so I was not entirely convinced, especially as there is no means of verifying the truth of the story. But it rang a bell and so I did a little INTERNET search. There seems to be a strong link between the above little piece of incitement to social harmony and a story from an edition of The Sun from Last October.

Asda Till Snub for Hope for Heroes Mum. Mum-of-three Beth Hoyle claims an Asda till worker refused to serve her because she was wearing a wristband backing injured troops. Beth says the checkout lad told her the band for Help for Heroes - aided by The Sun - meant she supported the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

And when she complained to a supervisor, he BACKED the Asian youth, saying he was entitled to his view. Beth, 40, who has two brothers in the services, said the checkout worker told her he didn't want to serve her because of "what she was wearing."

Asda’s ultimate response was: We’ve come to the end of our investigation at Asda Rochdale and can’t find any truth in the allegation that one of our colleagues refused to serve a customer for wearing a Help for Heroes wristband.

Our regional operations manager Paul Rowland said: “We’ve completed our investigation and it’s clear this exchange never happened. We’ve interviewed over 400 colleagues in the store, examined over three days worth of CCTV footage and talked to other customers and we can find absolutely no evidence that a colleague said what was alleged.”

They concluded: “We are disappointed and angry that right-wing groups are using this mythical incident to whip up racial hatred,” said Paul. “Thankfully the people of Rochdale will see straight through that. We remain big supporters of the work our troops do serving our country.”

Asda, it seems, sell the Hope for Heroes wristbands.

Most worryingly, the websites for Exposing Islam and the NF still have the story.

Excellent. Well done The Sun!

Ah, the Tabloids, bless them!

2010-08-08T14:24:00.007+01:00

Some weeks ago I tried to explain to an American blogger the hierarchy of the British press in terms of political leaning, bias and reliability. I don't particularly have a problem with political bias, after all there is more than one perspective on party politics and so, armed with the knowledge of the editorial stance of these papers, I would have no problem reading The Times, The Telegraph, The Guardian or the Independent and their Sunday editions. I would join many people in describing these papers as the "quality" press.

It is below these - often well below these - that the problems start and I often berate my students for their lamentable knowledge of current affairs.

Do you read a newspaper?

All too often the answer is in the negative. Those whose parents do regularly buy a national daily or Sunday edition tend to go largely, it seems, for the tabloids. They express amazement when I tell them that I can predict what party their parents vote for and what stance they will take on a variety of current issues based on their newspaper of choice. I have always been right. Too often in the classroom I can hear their parents talking and talking through the headlines and editorial position of their newspapers.

My response to my American friend arose out of trying to make a comparison between British and American news outlets. The same rule that I apply to my pupils can be applied to American bloggers in their choice of which British papers they cite in support of their position. If I see a Daily Mail article used as evidence against global warming, for instance, or The Star cited in a diatribe against Islam as another example I can safely assume I am dealing with a Republican.

At risk of upsetting many British newspaper readers (including my mother who reads the Daily Mail - for the crossword allegedly) I try to point out that these and the Sun, The News of the World, the People and the Daily Express are not good or credible sources of objective information. The comparison to Fox News springs to mind. Objectivity is not the primary objective and, after all, why let factual inaccuracy and downright misinformation get in the way of a good journalistic rant?

I have become increasingly aware of the liberties some of our media outlets take with the truth of late, particularly following one episode of Radio 4's The Now Show. See this recent post

This morning on the Sunday Programme (thank you God for BBC Radio 4) there was an interesting article on a youth camp for British Muslim teenagers which has the aim of turning Muslim youth from Islamist extremism. The camp is run by Dr Muhammad Tahir ul-Qadri, who has written a 600 page Fatwa against terrorism and suicide bombing. Sadly none of the usual suspects feels that this is a story worthy of publishing.

What we have had recently are headlines like This Note the phrase The Muslim Council of Britain confirmed that music lessons are likely to be “unacceptable” to 10% of Muslims. Now not only does the Star not specify that the Muslim Council of Great Britain does not support the view, but it pointedly says nothing about the 90% of Muslims who have no problem with it. Good grief, if only 10% of Christians I have met belonged to the lunatic fringe I'd think the rapture was due.

And then you get the story at the top of the post - no not Naomi (don't get me started on that empty headed princess!). This is the story where British children are being forced to eat Halal meat. Where to start? All meat is slaughtered. If you don't like this fact you are probably already a vegetarian. If you eat meat you probably couldn't tell whether meat was slaughtered according to Halal, Kosher or other means. If you're a meat eater you're a meat eater. What on earth do people think Halal meat is, something sacrificed to Satan and dipped in the blood of Christian virgins?

But look at the wider implication: Muslims aren't British, not properly. This will come as a surprise to my Muslim friends. (Actually, it won't, more's the pity.) It is also supposed to be clear that there is an Islamisation of Britain because of those uppity Muslims. The problem with this story is that it is simply not true. According to The BBC Harrow Council is giving the choice to serve Halal meat to its primary schools. See also The Harrow Observer. The Star however asserts that all High Schools have been told to provide only Halal meat.

You might also like This one

Then we get organisations like Islamisationwatch which exist because of the sorts of things the tabloid press write. One feeds off the other in a cycle of suspicion and fear. It should make us angry and it should make us campaign for an honest press.

Giles Fraser and Marriage: was he right?

2010-08-07T14:14:00.006+01:00

On Wednesday I was drowsing in the bliss of the out-of-term lie in when I heard, through the fog, from the radio the words "Thought for the Day with the Revd. Dr. Giles Fraser". Now, what with me actually aspiring to be Giles Fraser in my next life, I sat up and listened. (Well, I didn't actually sit up so much as snuggle down, but at least I was wide awake.) Read or listen here It was a strong indictment of the narcissism of the modern wedding. There was a lot of discussion and debate on the airwaves subsequently and in today's Guardian I came across This.

Are they right?

Bye Bye Prop 8! (YEAH!)

2010-08-05T09:18:00.008+01:00

Allowing interracial marriages “necessarily involves the degradation” of conventional marriage, an institution that “deserves admiration rather than execration.”

(Source: A U.S. representative from Georgia quoted in Eric Zorn, Chicago Tribune, May 19, 1996)

Isn't history revealing?

Following on from the last post - and if you've not read it do take a peek - we hear that Prop 8 has fallen. For those of you not quite up to speed on this, Prop 8 was an anti gay-marriage measure put to the public vote in California.

Now it seems that the rights enshrined in the American constitution are not up for renegotiation by public vote. The Intertubes are alive with the legal judgement and editorial comment and they can say it all better than I can. (I would recommend Rachel Maddows.)

Unpacked like this it amazes me how Prop 8 ever got passed in the first place. The fact that these dreadful people - the supporters of Prop 8 and particularly their "expert" witnesses - have been shown to be charlatans is music to many people's ears.

Why do so few Americans know the provisions of their constitution?

I'll just leave you with this little gem.

UPDATE: As this will only run and run I offer a receipe from THIS EXCELLENT BLOG SITE

A quick snack

This dish can be knocked up in minutes and, while it can be bland to some palates, still delivers a kick of muted outrage in many people. A simple, filling dish for the lazier columnist.

INGREDIENTS

1 quite obvious headline
1 tenuous reference to an unrelated, misunderstood report, for flavouring
1-2 handpicked critics for garnish
1 comment from the TaxPayers’ Alliance to act as the cherry on top
Several emotive words to add character to the dish
£15,000 – or is it £7,000 – of public money
PREPARATION

Take the quite obvious headline and use to top the container. Line with a generous helping of public money – be sure to check exactly how much you need here as it can vary. Next take the critics and place near the base of the container. Sprinkle on the emotive words. In this dish we chose “barmy”, “cuts”, “vandalised”, “awful”, “bullied”, “robbed” and “stupid” but any similarly emotive words will be fine. Some may prefer to use stronger bodied words such as “arsebollocks” or “fuckbagger”, although these can end up too much for a dish as light as this one. Positive words, such as “help”, “fit”, “active”, “wonderful” and “socialise” should be placed out of sight at the very bottom of the container.

Display the dish in a warm area of the website and allow to simmer for a few minutes until the smell is quite strong. Next add the tenuous reference to an unrelated, misunderstood report and allow this to set the overall flavour of the dish. Finally add a comment from part-time rent-a-gob-and-expert-on-apparently-just-about-everything Emma Boon of the TaxPayers’ Alliance as the cherry on top. Allow everything to congeal for 30 minutes.

This dish is now ready to be served. Watch out for local variants.

Oh yes, I shall look out for these in the weeks and months to come.

Leeds Pride

2010-08-01T20:09:00.047+01:00

(Daughter2 on the left making new friends.)

Today I went to my beloved's church. Her congregation has long designated the first Sunday in August as LGBT Liberation Sunday. It also happens to be the day on which Leeds Pride falls.

The sermon was delivered by the Revd. Colin Coward, Director of Changing Attitude and as it was taped You can hear it here. Colin took St. Paul and "There is neither Jew nor Greek, Slave nor free...." as his text and I was gratified because I had only preached on this text myself recently. TEXT HERE

My beloved and I have been members of Changing Attitude for some years now, although largely not in any overtly active way unless you count reading the newsletter as active.

I went to Leeds Pride last year and, apart from my younger daughter, I saw no one I knew. I milled about aimlessly in Millennium Square and wondered where the overt Christian presence was: this would have been a welcoming and supportive Christian presence as opposed to the condemnatory sort. I watched while a group of drag queens mimed incredibly badly and without much enthusiasm to "It's raining men" on stage while the crowd seemed to me to be having trouble feigning much in the way of interest. The carnival atmosphere I had been hoping for only really materialised when the procession set off.

Subsequently Daughter2 told me I had missed all the stalls and displays which were at the end of the procession route.

This year Changing Attitude had a stall and were fully intending to march in the parade. I thought I'd go and offer my moral support. I questioned my motives and discussed things with my family. It is to me an issue of witness and personal integrity. It is as simple as that.

My fear was that the church would indeed be there - or at least a faction of it - in full protest overdrive. I could think of a couple of Leeds churches who might well turn out in force to make an anti-gay statement. ("Down with that sort of thing!"?) No, I think the other face of the church needs to be seen at these events: the face of the church which doesn't condemn people for who they are, the face of the church which doesn't ape the Topeka Baptist tendency of the fundamentalist religious right in their hate campaign - the ones who carry banners that proclaim "God hates gays!" - those who are now becoming known as the LEVITICITES. Neither did I want to see the face of the church which patronises LGBT Christians in their attempt to "love the sinner but hate the sin". (Sorry, my gag-reflex just kicked in there.) Nor did I want to hear any of the theology of hate so robotically trotted out by those who know the verses but not the hermeneutics.

Was it possible that the face of the church which is inclusive and accepting of all God's people in our brokenness could make an appearance at this event? Or perhaps more to the point, was it possible for the face of the church which is inclusive and accepting of all God's people in our brokenness to make an appearance and be welcomed by those who may for very good reasons be quite antagonistic towards us because of all the crap that they have had handed out by the church over the last few years? Would we be booed out of the event? Would people take us on about the church and give us a probably well deserved hard time because of their own experiences of pain and rejection at the hands of the church? Could it also be possible that the revellers would feel that the church has lost even the right to expect to be heard? Would it be a case of "too little, too late"?

I wouldn't blame them.

For a moment it did feel as if my worst fears would be realised: "I thought Christians were against homosexuality?" one young woman asked me. But she was not aggressive: she had simply bought into the Daily Mail view of religion and sexuality.

How to respond?

There is a time and place and this wasn't it. It wasn't the time and place for a hermeneutic deconstruction of the so called "clobber" passages or of an analysis of the different categories of the Old Testament Holiness Code or of the distinction between the writings of the Old Covenant and of the New: no, this was the time for something much simpler and certainly conciliatory.

"That's the view of the vocal minority. Not all Christians accept those ideas by any means and I'm here today to try and get that across."

"Cool." And she was gone, swallowed up in a phalanx of body-glittered gladiators.

So that's my rationale so far, but it goes beyond that: as a straight man I have a need to stand in solidarity with my gay brothers and sisters. Certainly the battle is about human sexuality - by which we really mean homosexuality - and the prevailing attitude of many seems to be that it is, therefore, a battle for homosexuals. Not so. Not so at all. I am always reminded of Pastor Niemoller's words: "They came first for the Communists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up."

Now while I find it hard to foresee any circumstances when "they" would come for the white, male, straight, protestant, middle class, middle aged graduates you take my point. To me this is not just about theology and justice, important as those are, it is about integrity - my integrity as a Christian. This is "our" battle, not "their" battle. Edmond Burke pretty well got it right when he noted: ""All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." Well, I like to think of myself as one of the good guys and so the imperative is there. It is "my" fight too.

The problem with that, of course, is how does a straight man make that part of his principles clear?

"Good to see you vicar. Does your church not have a problem with an openly gay priest?" is the sort of question that is hard to unpack without it sounding like special pleading while a dozen transvestites totter past on totally unsuitable heels as a distraction.

"Some provinces of the Lutheran Church have travelled a lot further down that road than the C. of E." seemed the best response. It is a true statement and I wasn't going to get into the "Well, I'm not actually gay..." conversation. After all I wasn't the only straight person at the Leeds Pride was I? Did anyone else care if they were thought to be gay? I doubt it.

My beloved's vicar, Steve, had begun to unravel the banners he and Colin had brought with them. I took the end of a purple Changing Attitude banner bearing the legend "Christians together at Pride." Steve seemed to be wrestling with a larger red banner which, as it came free, proclaimed "Some Christians are gay: get over it." I liked that. It was confronting in a slightly stroppy way. Nevertheless I was pleased I was under the "safer" purple banner, which on reflection was silly as I wouldn't have thought twice about marching under a banner that said "Some Christians are black: get over it" or some Christians are women...."

It was about five minutes before we set off when a former student of mine accosted me and demanded a hug.

"I bet you never knew I was gay Sir."

"Well, Ryan, about that. Let's just say I was half expecting to see you here."

I got chatting to someone who had been at church this morning and I mentioned being a Lutheran in the context of the different levels of progress that some Lutheran Churches have achieved towards full acceptance of LGBT Christians in comparison to the C. of E.

"You're a Lutheran? I've been reading a blog by someone called Doorman Priest."

"That's me. THAT'S ME."

I looked at the various stalls around the Changing Attitude area and it wasn't long before I was sporting a rainbow flag transfer tattoo on my arm and a rainbow badge.

Another couple of former students moseyed on by and stopped for a chat. Was there a coach party from the knowledge college I wondered?

"I can't tell you how pleased I am to see the clergy here. Really, really pleased." one young man said to our little group with a smile as broad as you can imagine.

And then we were off. The procession had started and Leeds City centre ground to a halt. We got in just after the huge rainbow flag carried by about thirty people and the open lorry with its fancy dressed passengers and mobile disco ("Y.M.C.A.....Y.M.C.A-A.....") and just ahead of the Leeds Gay Abandon choir ("Come and join us." "No. I'm Leeds Philharmonic. You come and join me.")

The city seemed to be pulsating with the carnival atmosphere and I thoroughly enjoyed the walk. There was no opposition; no cat-calls; no rudeness; no name-calling; no unpleasantness of any description - just crowds of people who had come for (or just stopped to watch) the spectacle.

"Hello Vicar.!" To Steve and Colin.

"Good to see you here."

"Well done for taking a stand."

And then we were back at the stalls and displays, where Steve and members of his congregation did stirling work promoting All Hallows Church. (I'd like to see the size of their congregation next Sunday.) They were selling rainbow candles and a variety of badges but at the same time, with some very slick marketing I thought, were giving out changing attitude and All Hallows leaflets. A lot of people - and I mean a lot - were interested. (If I'd only thought on. I could have done that for my church.) And there were more expressions of pleasure in our being there. Everyone was incredibly welcoming and positive. The most negative comment I heard was "Its about time you lot showed up." - but said with a smile.

We were placed next to the Gay Fire Service stall which with real pragmatism was offering advice on smoke alarms and further up were the Gay Police Association offering leaflets and advice on hate crime and harassment. One of them sauntered down and introduced himself. He is now likely to go to All Hallows.

The smell of cooking from the wonderful Asian-fusion food stall was driving me wild and I couldn't work out where all the passers by were getting their beer from. "I could kill for a beer" said Steve but within minutes we had worked out that it was actually the stall next to us was selling it and so we were very quickly happy men! How had we missed that all afternoon?

"Can we have our photos taken with you guys?"

"Knock yourselves out!"

"I Can't tell you how thrilled I am to see you here this year. It does my heart good to see you. It really does"

"Hello Sir!"

"Hi Rob. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Certainly am. And you?"

"Very much thanks. See you in September." I suspect the start of term could bring some interesting conversations.

Within fifteen minutes an ex-colleague and three more sixth-formers passed by and stopped for a chat but I felt things were starting to get really crazy when a group of my year 9 and 10 students breezed up to me in full rainbow face-paint and greeted me enthusiastically. "Sir, Sir, we need a photo." Colin obliged: me and the quartet of students. There's a picture for the School newsletter one feels.

A friend from my own church appeared at my elbow and we talked about the value of doing an All Hallows next year and being prepared to market ourselves. After all as the Swedish Lutheran Church and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America are well down the road towards greater, if not full full equality of LGBT Christians within the church, why aren't we promoting that?

What surprises me is that relatively few gay Christians who stopped by seemed to know of All Hallows' unique position in the Diocese as an open and accepting church. I know, too, of at least one city centre church, not a million miles from All Hallows which does not recommend to its gay members that they go to All Hallows. It belongs to the Evangelical Alliance and would, it seems, be happier to keep its gays where it can preach to them the gospel of guilt and the falsehood of the ex-gay ministry.

All in all it was a great day, certainly better than my last foray into the politics of religion and discrimination. See here There were no Leviticites with their gospel of hate and in many small ways that the Holy Spirit will surely use, the Kingdom of God came a little closer. How interesting that "they" welcomed the church in ways that the church doesn't welcome "them."

Thought For The Day

2010-07-23T17:55:00.002+01:00

At Iona we give thanks for gay and lesbian people who have made a positive influence on our lives. LISTEN HERE Friday 23 July. Presenter: John Bell

And the difference is ........

2010-07-21T18:22:00.005+01:00

The bishop of Hamburg - the world's first female Lutheran bishop - has resigned amid criticism of her handling of a sex abuse case.READ FULL STORY HERE

And earlier: The head of Germany's Protestant Church has resigned, four days after being caught drink-driving.
READ FULL STORY HERE

Sad news for all concerned but did you spot the difference in the response of these two women to the allegations against them and the responses of male Bishops caught up in similar situations recently? I won't spell it out, but to my Anglican friends who worry over the ordination of women to the Episcopate I would point out that a badly needed dose of integrity seems to come with women bishops.

Sunday Sermon: Martha and Mary

2010-07-17T14:41:00.003+01:00

Luke 10.38 – 42

At the last Parish meal I volunteered to cook. I went home and said to my beloved something like “Do you think you’d be able to help me cook for the parish meal.” A clergy child herself, she tends to take these sorts of things in her stride and, ever practical, enquired “How many people?”

“Up to twenty.”

She paused for a moment and, having reflected, began to suggest menus.

Those of you who were there may not remember seeing much of my beloved. I, who had volunteered to cook, spent most of the meal chatting to the other diners and Rachel who, you remember, had only volunteered to help, spent most of the meal in the kitchen.

It really struck me as I was reading for this morning how like today’s Gospel reading this little incident is. Who was the Mary and who the Martha at the Parish meal? And when we come to think about it, this Gospel story must be mirrored in other relationships in this congregation as we tend to fall into our default roles.
My beloved can multi-task: she can be doing half a dozen things at the same time and still recognise with a sixth sense, through several walls, that there is someone else – me, usually - doing nothing - and that state of affairs can’t be allowed to go unchallenged. That’s a gift, no?

When I was studying on the Yorkshire Ministry Course we went to Whitby on one of our Easter residentials and I have a very strong memory of one of our tutors leading meditations on the key characters of the Easter events using a tool called the Enneagram. A lot has been written about the analysis of Enneagram personality types and its application to the people of the Bible. I was amazed when I did an INTERNET search how much has been published on this.

One of the things that has often frustrated me about many Bible stories is their briefness: the fact that they are often just the bare bones of an event with little of the personal touch involved to flesh them out. An understanding of the personalities of the characters, so often lacking from the wider narrative, would really bring those stories to life as we understand more about what made those people tick: their likes and dislikes, their motivations and so on.

I’d like to try that with Martha and Mary this morning. In brief, the Enneagram has nine personality types and Martha and Mary represent two very clearly.

In this story we see Martha and Mary in dispute over how best to entertain Jesus. Martha rushes around cooking and cleaning and Mary sits at Jesus’ feet listening to his teaching. Then, eventually, and inevitably, Martha snaps and appeals to Jesus to take sides, which he does - but not in the way Martha had hoped. Certainly Jesus’ response seems odd: I don’t know about you but I rather felt that Martha had a point, and yet Jesus takes Mary’s side.

So, let’s take Mary first. What is it that she does? Overwhelmed by the presence of Jesus and, against all the social conventions, she sits with the men and listens raptly at Jesus’ feet. In the alternative version of this story, told in John’s Gospel (Ch 13), Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with expensive oil. It is here that we also learn of their Brother Lazarus who Luke doesn’t mention.

Mary is a warm and emotional person who cares a great deal about her relationships and devotes a lot of time and energy to maintaining them. At their best Marys are enthusiastic and unselfish, perceptive of the needs of others, and unconditional in their love for others. Mary’s personality type likes to feel needed: one of the ways she does this is to be emotionally supportive of others and she gains her affirmation this way. Marys, however, can also tend to the manipulative and the love and devotion they exhibit is not always entirely without ulterior motive and self interest: Marys are flatterers. They often have a sense of entitlement when it comes to those closest to them and that would certainly seem to fit in with the way Mary assumes that spending time with Jesus while Martha works is fine. Such people can become intrusive and demanding if their emotional needs go unmet and exhibit an emotional volatility: here she is sitting with the men when convention dictates that she should be with Martha and the other women. Why do we think no one has challenged her? Because she could cause a scene: Marys are prone to outbursts. But it is more than that: the men present surely deferred to Jesus. It was against the social norms certainly, but who in that group of close friends was going to object if Jesus didn’t. Let’s think of John’s extended version here: Mary was spontaneous and intuitive and wanted to do something demonstrative, so with emotion rising from within she broke open the jar of costly ointment and poured it over Jesus’ feet. She then did something impulsive and wiped the feet of her beloved master and teacher with her hair. When, according to John, she hears Jesus say that she had prepared his body for death, she is cut to the quick.

So, how about Martha?

She is also overwhelmed by the presence of Jesus but she deals with it by overcompensating and going into organisation overdrive. She’s the sort who would probably have a system for loading the dishwasher. Martha’s personality type is such that she likes to take charge because she doesn’t want to be controlled and she gains her affirmation from being well organised and competent but at the same time she uses those skills to avoid engaging. Martha’s are strong, hard working and single minded. They are generous to a fault in providing for those under their care but they also tend to be domineering and make no bones about saying if they aren’t happy and, having a strong sense of injustice, are often unwilling to let sleeping dogs lie: intimate relationships are frequently the arena in which their control issues are most obviously played out and where questions of trust assume real significance. At their worst Marthas are controlling, abrasive, self-centred and avenging. They have no problem tackling people head-on and can often drive people away by their bluntness and seeming bullying behaviour.

And Jesus? What are to make of his behaviour? In his presence everything is placed in its proper perspective. He praises Mary because she ministers to his needs before she ministers to those of others. He has no need of Martha’s martyr complex or her manipulitiveness as she tries to get him on her side. Her service is important. Jesus isn’t dismissing it at all but because he recognises where she is coming from he is able to encourage her to see things in perspective. This isn’t about service as such, it is about Martha hiding behind it and using it to express her resentments. If we think Jesus’ response is odd – even a bit harsh – it is because he knows what we don’t: he knows the sisters; their strengths and weaknesses; their motivations and their hidden tensions and rivalries, and on this occasion it is Martha who most needs correcting. “You are worried and upset about many things” Jesus says to Martha. Is this an acknowledgement of all the sleights and resentments she carries? The sleights and resentments that stop her truly letting go and being in the present with Jesus? Marthas are very bad at letting their guard down and being vulnerable to the care and comfort of others. Marys, of course, have no problem with that at all. Martha must learn that hospitality is only one type of service, important certainly, but only one thing is essential while Jesus is with them and while he is with them everything else is to take second place.

How does Jesus lead someone as full of inner turmoil as Mary to inner healing? Mary’s impulsive spontaneity was over the top. Jesus’ response is gentle and he accepts her gift totally. He upholds her gentle spirit and rebukes those who are berating her. However, she must let him go and acknowledge that she doesn’t possess him. Jesus will not play to her insecurity and she has to be freed to rediscover her own life and autonomy. Can Mary be released from her possessiveness in order to reach out to others? Is this also our lesson?

How does Jesus lead someone as controlling and judgemental as Martha to inner healing? It was not Martha’s perfect actions which Jesus wanted but her presence. Can Martha learn to be less obsessive and step back from situations, recognising what she is like? Can she give herself permission to relax and enjoy the moment? There is a lot of Martha in all of us. Jesus loved her very much and stayed with her often. If we identify with Martha we can know that Jesus loves us very much and wants to stay with us.

Can a person change? I have to confess I believe there are probably some “core” aspects that do not change. But, I also believe, (and witnessed in my own life) the power of Christ in us that makes the biggest change of all. In fact, we are promised in many scriptures and in particular, the three noted in the book: Ezekiel 36:26-27; 2 Corinthians 5:17, and Philippians 1:6 that Christ can transform a heart of stone into a heart of flesh and that we can be a new creation and that “He who began a new work in us …” will complete it. Others in class also had some powerful stories and testimonies of Christ’s power to change a life.

So, are we ready for this journey? Are we ready to step outside the comfort zones of our default positions? Jesus can lead us all to inner healing.

Just to finish. If you still think that Martha came out of the exchange badly let’s remember that she was the one who voiced the astonishing statement in John 11:27: "I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world."

Update: Someone pointed out to me that this confession of Martha's is very similar to that of Peter's confession, only she didn't get any Keys! Fair point!

Face to Faith

2010-07-16T17:21:00.002+01:00

"Don't forget us" say Zimbabwean Christians

As I left the Anglican church in a suburb of Harare, my Zimbabwean host said: "Don't forget us." Yet the persecution of Anglicans in the diocese of Harare, which is spreading, is being seen and remembered by few Christian communities across the world. My hosts do not worship in the fine building that was built by the Anglicans themselves – some told me that they even made the bricks with their own hands, freely and willingly giving their labour as a gift to God – but in a colourful marquee in a supporter's garden. READ FULL TEXT HERE Brian Castle, The Guardian, Saturday 10 July 2010

Why you should not cite British Tabloids as a sound source of news.

2010-07-11T14:40:00.004+01:00

Every once in a while I see the British Tabloids cited on a blog as a source of information. This usually makes me wince, particularly if the blog is hosted by an American. It also makes me resolve to be very careful about the sources I, in my turn, find on google. It is a timely reminder, as if one were needed, that just because something is on the INTERNET, does not mean that it is either true or accurate. What, for instance would one make of this?

For those who did not know before, the Daily Mail is not known for either its objectivity or its commitment to accurate reporting. It is Britain’s version of Fox News but with a higher reading age.

I offer you the following salutary tale with grateful thanks to those wonderful folk on BBC Radio 4’s The Now Show.

Now there was fury in the tabloids this week and for once it seemed like maybe they had a point. The Sun’s headline was “Pool Blacked out for Muslim swim” The Express had “Swimming pool blacked out to appease Muslims” The Mail led with: “Swimmers plunged into dark after council covers swimming pool windows”

Now I like to think of myself as fairly inclusive and tolerant but I agree that does sound a bit much. I mean it is slightly surprising that apparently there aren’t any electric lights at the pool, but even if there are and “plunged into darkness” is a tiny, forgivable exaggeration, it is genuinely bad enough that all that natural light has been blocked out as we can be sure that it has because the Mail and the Mirror both said

“All 250 windows had been blacked out.”

In which case I can only agree with John Ewart, 63, who, when interviewed in The Mail said “The whole thing smacks of political correctness gone stark raving mad.” and who, when interviewed in The Sun said, “The whole thing smacks of political correctness gone stark raving mad.” and who, when interviewed in the Express said “The whole thing…”
Well let’s just say he remained consistent.

As did Pauline Pool when she told all the papers in identical words how much she had been: “Looking forward to watching the lovely trees while swimming.” Fair enough. Who doesn’t go swimming to look at the lovely trees?

It is a bit funny that all the reporters got exactly the same quotes. It’s almost as if they just blindly reprinted the story that appeared in the local paper the day before. I can’t believe that, at least not of the Express given that they made this story their front page headline:

Muslims force pool cover up

Those pesky Muslims; that lunatic council making old ladies swim in the dark and taking away Pauline’s lovely trees.

The Daily Express went on to write about how the council “covered ground level windows with opaque film.”

Honestly these councils, they just … sorry? Hold on: ground floor windows? Opaque film? Is that the same as blacked out? Hold on Daily Express. Can you clarify?

“Regular users of the pool are furious that the tinted windows ….”

Tinted? The ground floor windows had been tinted? Isn’t that what all swimming pools with ground floor windows do? It doesn’t sound quite the same as Muslims forcing grannies to swim in the dark. I mean, I’m assuming that it was at least those uppity Muslims that made it happen right?

“The complaints had come mostly from the Muslim community … but non-Muslim women had also objected.”

Right, so this fiendish and indefensible window tinting was done after complaints from Muslims and non-Muslims – or to put it another way: people.

And if, like the excellent Tabloid-Watch website you then find a statement from Walsall Council, you discover that what actually happened is that 58 of the 250 window panels on the pool’s floor to ceiling glass wall have been covered with a translucent film that allows in natural light and this was done “for all members of the community and not for any specific group”, because as Chris Holliday, Head of Leisure and Culture, rather poignantly pointed out “Not everyone is confident in their speedos.” Don’t worry Chris, no ones looking. And indeed no one has ever been looking because “a previous modesty barrier made of fabric within the original design had suffered damage and in places had been pulled down." So this story, which you will remember started out as “Swimming pool blacked out to appease Muslims” actually boils down to “Council replace fabric screen with transparent film” Or in other words “Nothing happened.” And then the Daily Express, seeing the opportunity for a headline that would particularly incense its readers, ran it on the front page and deliberately misled their readers into picturing Abu Hamza strolling into Walsall with 5 gallons of black paint swinging from his belt. And true enough the comments pages are now full of outrage and resentment at this fictional event. From Miss Culture from Belfast who suggests

“Local Men should turn up with ladders, stand at the windows and make a point of staring at these women.”

Yes they should definitely do that. That would make everything better. You’re like a latter day Solomon.

And then there’s M. Davies of Wales who said: “I would suggest the local electorate protest wildly.”

Yes, definitely. Sometimes you just have to take a stand. Rage, rage against the tinting of the light.”

I have wise friends.

2010-07-10T18:04:00.002+01:00

"God is the foundation, who gave us Reason before he gave us Scripture, and when the written word was shown to be plainly insufficient, gave us the living Word of his son Jesus Christ." Tobias S. Haller

And the truly faithful just get on with it.....

2010-07-09T17:59:00.002+01:00

The balance of paower in the church of England is now held by moderate evangelicals. They will go along with women bishops but they won't tolerate openly partnered gay clergy. Rowan Williams, as always, will go along with the majority. The congregations, for the most part, will ignore the fuss altogether.

(Highlighted emphasis my own.) Andrew Brown, The Guardian.

How perceptive.

We live in interesting times

2010-07-08T19:10:00.003+01:00

I sometimes feel that I don't either watch or read enough news and I feel that I'm missing out. I had the chance to grab half an hour and my paper of choice and discovered all sorts of good news. I like it when that happens.

Judges: gay refugees must get asylum

Five supreme court justices say gay and lesbian asylum seekers should not be expected to "exercise discretion" in their home countries to avoid persecution ...... anti gay sentiments had gradually worsened in some places, fanned by the rampant homophobic teaching that right wing evangelical Christian churches indulge in throughout much of sub-Saharan Africa and the "ultra conservative interpretation of Islamic law that prevails in Iran.".

READ FULL TEXT HERE (The Guardian)

Climategate scientists cleared of manipulating data on global warming

The climate scientists at the centre of a media storm over leaked e-mails were yesterday cleared of accusations that they had fudged their results and silenced critics, but the review found they had failed to be open enough about their work. Sir Muir Russell, the senior civil servant who led a six month inquiry into the affair said that the "rigour and honesty" of the scientists at the Climate Research Unit at the University of East Anglia was not in doubt. His investigation concluded that they did not subvert the peer review process to censor criticism and that key data was freely available and could be used by any "competent" researcher.

READ FULL TEXT HERE (The Guardian)

If you listen very quietly, you can hear the sound of right wingers gagging. If you listen ultra carefully (on the west coast) you can hear it from across the pond.

I leave the last word to George Monbiot - my hero in these things:

"You are a fucking douchebag. You pathetic fucking phony. I hope there is an earthquake under your fucking house and swallows you into Hell." Does this offend you? If so you haven't been involved in the climate wars. This message, one of many sent recently to climate scientists, and now published by the Guardian, is almost sweet by comparison to the gallant e-mails some of us receive every week. Many of these missives, perhaps revealing more about the senders than they intend, involve promises to insert implausibly large items of military hardware into the recipient's anus. At first they alarmed me. After a while, realising that most of the silver tongued chevaliers who sent them live on the other side of the Atlantic, don't possess passports and would struggle to place the United Kingdom on the map, I stopped worrying.

READ FULL TEXT HERE (The Guardian) I've put George's face at the top. No doubt someone who votes Republican will have apoplexy.

The importance of Christian allegory

2010-07-07T18:30:00.002+01:00

I have a group of Yr 10 students who are hard work but, although I don't tell them, I am very fond of them. We were doing some work recently on suffering and evil and were considering the holocaust as a primary example.

"SIR!!! CAN WE WATCH THE BOY IN THE STRIPED PAJAMAS? CAN WE? CAN WE? I'LL BRING IT IN." (Georgina only does loud.)

I fended this off for a while and then felt that for our last two lessons of the school year this wouldn't be a bad idea. Yesterday I collared Georgina in the dining area and asked her to bring her DVD in today. She forgot.

"YEAH, BUT, RIGHT. HE ONLY TOLD ME, LIKE, YESTERDAY."

The others are unmoved by this blatant attempt to shift the blame.

"I generally find that 24 hours is long enough to put a DVD in my school bag."

"NO, RIGHT, BUT I WENT OUT STRAIGHT FROM SCHOOL - YOU CAN SHUT YOUR GOB ZOE, NO ONE LIKES YOU ANYWAY - AND MY DAD WASN'T IN RIGHT, SO MY MUM, RIGHT, SHE HAD TO SEE MY GRAN BUT SHE'D GONE TO HAVE HER PALM READ AND..."

"Can we have the short version do you think?"

"I FORGOT IT."

"There we go then. Got there in the end."

"So we aren't watching a film then?"

"Ah, now then, about that...Fortunately I had a plan B....which is to do lots of written work...no...only joking."

"Are we watching Transformers 2?"

"Oh, now let me think for a second..NO! It has to be R.S. related."

"Boring!"

"If you could just get the exercise books then."

"NATHAN, I'M GONNA KILL YOU."

"I didn't forget the DVD dog-breath."

"Anyway... ANYWAY... thank you. These are the options: What Dreams May Come with Robin Williams, which looks at alternative views on life after death or The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, which is an allegory of key parts of the Christian story."

My loud, streetwise, gobby, attitude-filled class sat in rapt silence for an hour - a world record - while Narnia unfolded before their eyes. Georgina sucked her thumb.

Like so many important issues I am in danger of boredom overload.

2010-07-06T19:53:00.002+01:00

So, a few weeks ago the first independent investigation against the University of East Anglia's Climate Change Unit exonerated it in the climate-gate scandal.

The House of Commons Select Committee on Science found the "evidence patently fails to support" the idea of a fraud; the scientists have "no case to answer"; and all the analyses "have been repeated and the conclusions have been verified" by other scientists. That's science-speak for "it was a pack of lies."

TEXT HERE (The Independent) This is a fascinating article for all sorts of reasons but the section that struck me most was:

It turns out the "scientific" claims promoted for decades by whiny self-righteous liberals were a lie, a fraud, a con - and we don't need to change after all. The left is humiliated; the conservatives are triumphant and exultant.

The year is 1954, and the "science" that has been exposed as a "sham" by conservatives is the link between smoking and lung cancer. Welcome to Tobaccogate, as Fox News would call it. The conservatives are championing professor Clarence Cook Little, who says he has discovered insurmountable flaws in the use of statistics and clinical data by "anti-tobacco" (and quasi-commie) scientists. The press reports the "controversy," usually without mentioning that Cook Little is being paid by the tobacco industry. A relieved nation lights up - and so, over the next few decades, millions of them die.

What I felt was also helpful were a number of examples of the credulity of the public in dealing with the pronouncements of the media:

Many readers across the world assume that if a story has been in the news section of a reputable English newspaper, it has been fact-checked. One recent climate "scandal" that spread from Britain shows the truth. In its most recent report, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change - the umbrella organization of the world's climate scientists - explained that 40 percent of the Amazon rainforest is at risk of dying if there is even a slight reduction in rainfall. This is true. It is the view of the most distinguished scientists in the field. The IPCC sourced this claim to a report by the World Wildlife Fund - when, in fact, it should have referred to a peer-reviewed report by Professor Dan Nepstad, whose work is mentioned only in passing by the WWF.

And today comes the unedifying news that American Climate scientists are the victims of a nasty outbreak of intimidation and hate-mail. TEXT HERE

Climate scientists in the US say police inaction has left them defenceless in the face of a torrent of death threats and hate mail, leaving them fearing for their lives and one to contemplate arming himself with a handgun. The scientists say the threats have increased since the furore over leaked emails from the University of East Anglia began last November, and a sample of the hate mail sent in recent months and seen by the Guardian reveals the scale and vitriolic tone of the abuse.

I have always been bemused by gap between public opinion and scientific pronouncements - but then my opinion of the public has never been high. I found THIS recently:

Trust is, perhaps, the most important word within the climate debate at present. "Who do you trust?" is the question that hangs over every discussion on the topic.

Do you trust the vast majority of climate scientists who claim that anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions are causing a clear and present climatic danger? Or do you trust the much smaller band of sceptical climate scientists who argue that there isn't a problem?

In much of our lives, we rely on the testimony and views of experts. We do so when we feel ill and choose to visit the doctor. We do so when we want to reduce our tax liabilities. We do so when we wish to be ably represented in a court of law. We do so when a strange noise appears from the engine of our car. We will often pay good money to benefit from the many years of training and experience offered by experts in their field - be they doctors, accountants, lawyers or mechanics.

Climate science is a little different, it seems. A notably large – and growing - proportion of society appears to be rejecting the expert view of climatologists and choosing instead to place their trust elsewhere. Needless to say, this has confounded many who work within the climate sciences, but the causes are myriad and much discussed.

Yet 97-98% of climate scientists attest that global warming is man-made and real.

What are we to do? Still the final report on climategate and the University of East Anglia's e-mail scandal is due out tomorrow. I can hardly wait.

A sponsored walk ...with added teenagers.

2010-07-04T13:11:00.005+01:00

So, sponsored walk day ...and on one of the hottest and sunniest days of the year. Our Yr 11s and 13s having left that leaves us with something in the region of 850 pupils to organise on a circular walk of ten miles through some very nice countryside starting and ending at the school.

One of my friends has had some "Walk for Steph" badges made in memory of our colleague who died a few months ago. We all think this is highly amusing as Steph was not known voluntarily to have walked anywhere but hopefully Oxfam will benefit from the sale of badges and sponsor money.

As the kids begin to trickle into school I am somewhat perturbed by the fine array of totally unsuitable footwear: we have flip-flops, gladiator sandals and Ugg boots among the selection. It's always good to know that the kids have thought things through.

I will not be walking myself - it's my war wound don't you know? I will be manning (can you say that these days?) the final checkpoint on the edge of Tesco's car park with Will, Rob and Ellie. In fairness I have walked the route on a number of former occasions and have even run it twice, so to be on a checkpoint this year seems only fair.

Having seen them off from the sport's hall at 9.15, we make our way to our checkpoint. Rob has brought some garden chairs so, much to the amusement of members of the public we set up our camp under a large yellow board bearing the legend "10". Our task, at the end of a designated country walk, is to stamp their cards and stop them going through the car park and in to the supermarket and then off home. The walk is not over until they have checked back in at school, a further half a mile on from where we are.

We sit in the sun and chill. It is very pleasant and this part of the walk is popular with cyclists and dog walkers and a fair few pensioners on their morning constitutionals. We ponder what they will make of the tide of humanity meeting them from the opposite direction.

At 10.15 the first of the runners hoves into view and for a short time there is a steady stream of youngsters who are taking their run very seriously. At 10.20 the 15th runner arrives, noteworthy for being the first Yr 7 boy. I hold out my hand to take his card for stamping and he instinctively shakes it. I am quite charmed by this sudden display of old world courtesy and sportsmanship. At 10.25 a group of boys appears walking. There have been no girls yet. They see us and burst into a flurry of running.

"Sir, we've run all this way. Honestly. We've only just started walking."

"How do you think me and Miss got here ahead of you?"

They look speculatively at Ellie. "Did you Miss? Did you run?"

"And never broke sweat James."

At 10.35 the first - and as it turns out the only - staff runners pass us. Will adjusts his position in one of the garden chairs and continues to direct operations.

"I'm like Wellington." he announces.

I look at Ellie and Rob. "What are we then? Foot soldiers?"

Ellie and Rob are both historians. "Actually," Rob says "Wellington called them the scum of the earth."

"Cheers Will."

10.50: the first girl passes.

11.45: the tally so far. 63 boys, 2 girls and two members of staff.

"Sir, Sir, my dad's a taxi driver. His rank is over there at Tesco's. Can he give us a lift back?" Will slopes off for a smoke.

12.15: Eddie, the first Yr 8 arrives. I have a soft spot for Eddie: school life is not easy for him and I make a big fuss of how well he has done.

12.17: the 3rd girl passes.

Will returns and takes up his lolling position in one of the chairs. "I'm back now. Carry on."

"Cheers Will."

"Blimey." (yawn) "It's hard work this!"

12.27: the first year 7 girl, Pagan, arrives. She is a tiny slip of a girl and has clearly been running most of the way.

12.30 sees the first staff walkers, all from the IT Dept.

12.40: the tally is 93 boys, 7 girls and five staff.

"Well done Sweetheart. You're in the top ten girls."

"What about me?"

"You're in the top 140 boys."

12.45: there is now a steady stream of Kids. Will is seen to get off his seat to help.

"Blimey, I need a sit down."

12.55: the first obese child makes it.

1.00: six chavvy boys in track suit bottoms and stripped to the waist arrive smelling of contaminated pond water. One, foolishly I felt, tries to hug Ellie.

"Where have you been swimming?" she demands, fighting him off with a parasol.

"Swimming?"

"Can we go home now Sir."

"You've got to go back to school first."

"Oh no!!"

"You've not enjoyed it then?"

"No! Why did we have to walk ten miles in the sun?"

"It's a sponsored walk."

"Well, I'd rather have been in Maths!"

"Are you mad, child?"

From 1.15 everyone, EVERYONE is moaning - and limping. Several have either just the one shoe or no shoes at all.

I see two pensioners with shopping trolleys hemmed in by about 25 moaning, sweaty teenagers.

"What's the betting they've been trapped there for the last six miles and wanted to get off at Robertown?"

"Can I get a bus?"

"I'm in pain."

A group of girls pass by with mobile phones glued to their ears. "...so I told him: I'm not taking that from someone with acne."

"To be frank with you, I think we've had the hardest job."

"Cheers Will."

"I need a wee."

"Sir, you said we'd be done by 12.00 and it's 1.20."

"Could you have walked faster?"

"How would that have helped? It's still 10 miles."

There seem to be quite a few grazed knees and bramble scratches on show now.

1.40: here come the girls. They are wearing sunglasses, floaty summer dresses, carrying designer bags and wearing statement jewellery. They think it's Cannes.

"Couldn't my mum have driven me?"

"I'm, like, really dying here."

"Sir. Mr. Bennet's sending people the wrong way."

"You've not got a stamp for station 7."

"There wasn't a station 7"

I ask Ellie which station Mr. Bennet is on.

"Six."

A man on a mobility scooter ploughs through the next group like Boudica. "Bloody kids everywhere. Shouldn't be allowed. Shouldn't they be in school or something?"

It's nice to see people entering into the spirit of things.

"Never again. Never, ever again!!"

"Sponsored walk? You'd be better calling it a sponsored amble." Ellie notes. "None of my P.E. group have come through yet."

"What P.E. do you do with them?"

"Aerobics. Their favourite is step 'n smoke."

"We're calling childline. We're holding you personally responsible."

"Ah, Mr. Loxam. You're by far the sweatiest person we've had through so far."

"Sir, Sir, I feel sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Is that it?"

"Sadly that's life. A lesson best learnt early I feel."

"But I've got a headache and my left foot hurts. Miss, Miss. Have you got any wheelchairs?"

He could, one feels, write a book on hypochondria.

2.30: the Head Teacher arrives and Will jumps into sudden action. "Let's call it a day." the Boss advises.

Will and I drive back passing the last few stragglers on their last half mile to school and hundreds streaming away having checked in. Later I pass Mr. Bennet on the corridor.

"Some kids complained that you'd sent them the wrong way."

"Only the ones I didn't like."

In praise of .... The Guardian

2010-07-03T14:10:00.009+01:00

There were two particularly interesting articles in today's paper. I always look for the Face to Faith section because you have the option to comment on-line and I like to do that. Today's Face to Faith, Christianity, Arrogance and Ignorance, was penned by the former editor of the Catholic Herald, Peter Stanford, and looks at the areas of ignorance we have about one-another's faiths.

...I found myself wondering whether I was unusual in my ignorance among those in the west who purport to take religion seriously, or whether I had stumbled on a bigger problem. Is our lack of knowledge of not only eastern traditions but also (crucially today) of Islam the rough equivalent of the point blank refusal of most of us to learn any other language than English? Just as we arrogantly and lazily assume that everyone else in the world will be desperate to learn English, do we also assume that our Christian traditions are the lingua franca of world religions against which all other faiths must present themselves?

READ FULL TEXT HERE

The Guardian also runs an ongoing series called Bad Science, illustrated by a picture of Frankenstein's monster. This week, Ben Goldacre, under the heading Challenging Behaviour, was considering the phenomenon that is our propensity to ignore scientific evidence that challenges our pre-existing view, (ignoring it being merely one of the options available: the others include intimidating it, buying it off, reasoning it away or suing for libel.)

When presented with unwelcome scientific evidence, it seems, in a desperate attempt to retain consistency in their worldview, people would rather conclude that science in general is broken.

READ FULL TEXT HERE

I think there is a link between the two articles in terms of having our preconceptions challenged and our general unwillingness to hear a well reasoned alternative perspective. Other worldviews? Secondary to Christianity - after all what does the Bible teach?

But surely in the ongoing debates within Christian circles we see the self same approaches in relation to human sexuality and climate change to name but two. Are we really back to science v religion in the search for objectivity and truth?

I really do like a newspaper which makes me think.

Car Sharing and Early Starts

2010-07-02T16:06:00.005+01:00

One of the modules I teach is Religion and the Environment. At some stage, whenever I teach it, the topic of car sharing comes up as a strategy to reduce air pollution and to use less fossil fuel. I always lament that there are no colleagues at the knowledge college who live sufficiently near me to make this a realistic strategy.

Recently a 2+ lane has opened up as an encouragement to car sharing and as I sit there trying to stay calm in the slow lane whilst other cars with two or more passengers take priority and whip by, I do ponder the wisdom of so many solitary drivers like myself on the road.

My colleague Will has recently moved house and is now a short hop from me. He gave me a lift in a while ago and I was very impressed by how clean and tidy his car was. He picked me up again recently and the car was a tip.

"Well I wanted to make a good impression then. I know you better now. Do you mind if I smoke?"

"It's your car. They're your lungs."

He also leaves about twenty minutes before me and as I leave at 7.15 and tend to be in school by 7.40 for an 8.30 start I generally think that's good enough. That extra twenty minutes on a cold winter morning makes all the difference and as long as I hit the motorway by 7.35 its O.K. (It looks like a long-stay car-park after that.)

It is Sponsored Walk day at the Knowledge College (more of which later) and at the end of the day I am going on a residential with twenty one sixth formers at the Strensall Barracks in York. I do not want to leave the car at the Knowledge College for several nights and so had approached Will.

"I think car sharing is a good idea" he says "but I'm taking my wife to the airport that morning so I can't take you.

Bugger! What to do?

"I live over your way." says Sarah. Why did I not know this before? "I'll bring you in."

"Oh that's a huge help. Thanks so much. What time do you leave?"

"You're not going to like this."

"Try me."

"Six thirty."

Double bugger.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"It's your car. They're your lungs."

A pastoral letter from Presiding Bishop Mark S. Hanson

2010-06-28T19:57:00.002+01:00

The oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is both heartbreaking and infuriating. It causes deep sorrow, both for the initial loss of human life and for the deep and lasting damage to an ecology that provides life and livelihoods for so many of God's creatures. At the same time we grieve that the natural beauty of this region, a sign of God's marvelous creativity, has been defiled.

Read the rest HERE

What a place for an ordination

2010-06-27T15:37:00.007+01:00

I went to York Minster today for the ordinations of a group of friends from the Yorkshire Ministry Course. It was packed. It is, of course, a wonderful building and I had to explain to my daughter the principle of building to the glory of God.

I wonder if they take bookings.

Partway through the service we had reached the point where the congregation was asked:

"Will you uphold them and encourage them in their ministry?"

"We will."

At this point, and barely pausing in the liturgy, Archbishop Sentamu continued:

"You'd better, or, through the discernment of the Spirit, I will come for you."

Scary!

This is the same Archbishop who, in his last one to one interview with the candidates asked them:

Hello. Come in. Sit down. So what is the difference between the Anglican and the Orthodox position on the Holy Spirit?"

Double scary!

I may offer a prize for correct answers. (Now that I know it.)

A little later, at young Mike's reception, I was engaged in conversation by a personable clerical type.

"So, how do you know Mike?"

"Well," I launched in "We were on the same course and on residentials we used to sit up very late drinking whisky and putting the world to rights. How about you?"

"I'm his new Vicar."

Bugger.

Now that's what I call law making!

2010-06-24T20:05:00.003+01:00

"A U.S. consumer group is suing McDonald's over its happy meals ..... California has passed a law against offering free toys with any meal that doesn't reach a nutritional standard." according to writer Zoe Williams in today's Guardian. She goes on to write "In America there is provision under law for enforcing - or at least demanding - not just a duty of care not to kill anybody but the kind of responsibility you might ask from a reasonable adult. Please don't just profiteer."

A good article: well worth a read.

Was it only a year ago?

2010-06-19T20:32:00.015+01:00

With Mike the Younger yesterday.

Yesterday I went to Wakefield for a nostalgic journey. Wakefield? It's hardly a million miles from Leeds. Nostalgic?

Let me explain. Yesterday was the Commendation Service for the Yorkshire Ministry Course - a graduation service, if you like. The friends I studied with for two years and who stayed on for a third year, completed their studies and passed out at a service at St. John's church (next to the Police College where we used to have our residentials), what with the cathedral not being available this year. Within a fortnight they will have been ordained Deacon. The plan was that Dr. Bob, Hilda, Stuart and I would meet up and go together but the best laid plans etc....Dr. Bob had a gaggle of Slovak students to look after, Hilda was drafted in as organist and Stuart had a diocesan synod to attent until late afternoon. I went on my own. On reflection that was a mistake.

My first stop was the coffee shop where we all sat in the sun last year before the service. I followed that with a visit to the cathedral and listened to a choir and orchestra rehearsing Vivaldi's Gloria. I walked up to the police college along the route we had all travelled so many times before as a group. I arrived thoroughly dispirited, like an earthbound ghost forever destined to haunt the significant places of its past when its colleagues had moved on.

And then Stuart arrived and things picked up.

The service was beautifully done and, although there were a couple of difficult moments for me, the desire to affirm and celebrate with my friends was far more important than anything else.

I read back over my thoughts from last year and I repost them here:

Somehow - I realise now engineered - my original year group managed to sit together: suddenly for each of the six leavers there materialised a beautifully wrapped package. The others who were going on to do another year had bought us each a book of pastoral prayers - and signed the flyleaf: "To our dear friend Jack ....." (and I feel a little tearful just writing it down now). This was accompanied by a card. It was the only photograph in existance of the whole year group together taken at Easter School and it had been made into a greetings card inscribed with the legend "Things Will Never Be The Same Again." It just happens to be a lovely and joyful photo of a group of good and trusted friends enjoying each other's company.

The rest of the evening was spent in the knowledge that time was precious: a conversation with Danny, a conversation with young Mike and to bed, a little tipsy on red wine.

Saturday, Commendation Day, dawned bright and fair, and early for me due to the flimsy nature of the curtains. The first thing I saw on waking was the card and I knew I was going to have trouble holding it together that day. I went to Silent prayer at 7.30. There were no more than half a dozen of us and I plugged into Howard Goodall's beautiful and reflective "Enchanted Voices" on my I-Pod to help focus my thoughts. I remember Dr. Bob sitting beside me. A couple of minutes in I started to weep and the floodgates opened (silently of course - it being silent prayer, no racking sobs or suchlike) snot, tears the whole works. (And, typical man, I did not have a handkerchief.) It was not just the enormity of what was to come both in the short and long terms. It was also the uncertainty of the future and the sense of loss in the breaking up of that close knit group of lovely, supportive, Kind and very funny people. I think cathartic is probably the best description, although I am sure others would say self-indulgent.

When I related this afterwards Alex said she hadn't noticed a thing.

She is, one feels, a saint.

Dr. Bob asked me over breakfast how I was. "You seemed a little emotional earlier."

A LITTLE EMOTIONAL! He is a master of the understatement.

Still, I had got it out of my system and I was raring to go.

At lunch (this is the last lunch I shall ever eat here) I opted for salad. It has only taken me two years. We leavers had free time after lunch: time to sit and chat and drink more tea before changing and taking our robes on the ten minute walk through town down to the cathedral. As Stuart, Dr. Bob and I set off, scrubbed up nicely and wearing our best suits, it seemed slightly strange that we were moving off to a significant event while the rest of the course was still in classes. As we passed the classroom where year one was working we got some waves and wolf-whistles but as we passed the now much depleted year two room they stood up and came to the windows and clapped us by.

How affirming.

A verger showed us where to leave our robes and we had a wander around the cathedral taking in the atmosphere. Wakefield Cathedral is a nice building. It seems warm and welcoming and intimate for such a big building and it does exude a calm and peace: there are those who say that such ancient buildings have soaked up spirituality, worship and prayer through the ages like blotting paper and that it hangs in the air for those who come after to be touched by. That sounds a touch too new-agey for me but there is no denying that the cathedral carries its own special feeling.

We bumped into some of the other leavers coming and going and then headed off for a coffee in one of the many cafes in the pedestrianised area outside the cathedral. Quite by chance we met up with Hilda, Daphne and Mike: all the year two leavers together. That seemed fitting.

The sun was glorious and it was nice to be chilling-out, sitting, talking and people watching. Members of the music group began to drift by on their way to rehearse for the Commendation Service and that half an hour or so felt like a real oasis of calm. I sensed no anxiety in my friends now and I wasn’t feeling any either. How far I’d come from first thing this morning! Not anxious, not excited, not over-emotional: instead I simply had a sense of relaxed anticipation. Bring it on.

Four p.m. heralded the rehearsal run through. Down in the crypt area we robed, apart from surpluses and hoods. Dr. Bob amazed me by putting a belt over his cassock. Hang on: I’d seen that look before.

“Quick. Someone give him a flat cap. It’s Mr Yeatman from Dad’s Army.”

Stephen led us to the front pews and, working through the list, sat us in our places. I was next to Jane, one of the leading characters of the Manchester leavers which meant that she and I would process in at the front behind the crucifer and process out again at the back in front of the Bishop’s party. The practice had us lined up behind the choir stalls and processing out through a side door ("Too fast. Slow down.") around to the front of the cathedral, much to the interest of passing shoppers, and back to the front door through which we would process in stately glory at the start of the service. It was at this point that I saw Rachel standing to one side of the door, camera in hand having arrived by train from Leeds. A quick wave of greeting and we were off again through the main doors and back to our seats in slow procession ready for the real thing in a little over half an hour.

Back in the robing room there was frantic hair brushing and the smoothing of surpluses. Photos were taken and academic hoods adjusted. Jane produced an expensive looking box of chocolates and the crowd descended like vultures with the flapping of clerical robes. Twenty nine Anglicans in choral dress and one Lutheran.

“You look very smart” I was told more than once. “I much prefer your clerical dress.”

My clerical dress consisted of a clerical shirt and collar which it had been my practice to wear since Bishop Walter told me I should at the end of my first term on the course. In addition I was wearing my preaching gown (my academic gown from my graduation half a lifetime ago) and the Yorkshire Ministry Course hood. My only disappointment was that I could not wear the preaching bands Bishop Walter had given me because the collar-gap in the clerical shirt I had brought with me was too narrow. But yes. I had to agree I did look the part. For the last couple of months people had been asking me what I would be wearing. The truth was now plain for all to see. It was not a little something in a nice leopard skin print after all.

The cathedral was filling up and several first and second years were acting as stewards. As we stood in rows patiently behind the crucifer waiting for the starter's gun, I saw Pastor Mark walking down the side aisle. He gave me a wave. "There's your pal from Whitby" said Jane. And then we were off.

A slow procession through the side door and quite a wait at the front door while a few late comers scurried in. We were given the nod by one of the canons and our elegant procession began to a rousing rendition of "Tell out my soul, the greatness of the Lord."

Principal Dr. Christine is, of course, used to public speaking and her welcome and M.C. role were measured and authoritative. The Revd. Kenneth had worked with an over-large and somewhat demanding group of leavers to put this service together and it was a triumph and testament to his wisdom and experience. A student from Year one read from Isaiah: Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying: "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And I said: "Here am I. Send me." A second year student read from Ephesians I pray that according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. Stephen read from John's Gospel: Jesus said to them again: Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you. followed by a little Taize chant: Nada te turbe. "Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten: those who seek God can never go wanting. Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. God alone fills us."

The music group, led by Anne performed an incredibly beautiful piece in four parts with her taking a solo. I think I held my breath for the whole of it. Magic!

The sermon was delivered by the Bishop of Doncaster, The Right Revd Cyril Ashton, who talked to us about the challenge of speaking out. He began with a very Yorkshire joke: "There was a lad from Barnsley who was given a part in the school play. Thrilled, he went home and told his mother who asked what part he would be taking. On being told that he would be playing the husband she was less than pleased. "Go back to that teacher and tell him you want a speaking part!"

My favourite chorus followed: "King of Kings, Majesty, God of Heaven, Living in me." and before we knew it we were being called out one by one. We each knelt and Stephen anointed our open hands before we passed on to Christine to receive our certificates. (Shoulders back, stomach in, don't trip up or fall over getting up from kneeling.) It was on the way back that I saw Bishop Walter and his wife Jennifer who were sitting only a few rows behind me. I received an episcopal wink. I took my seat again. I have graduated. I sneaked a look at my certificate.

This is to certify that Doorman-Priest during the years 2007 - 2009 has completed a programme of theological education, training and formation with the Yorkshire Ministry Course and has achieved the necessary learning outcomes required by the Church of England for candidates at the point of ordination.

I showed this to Jane and we both laughed. I am, it seems, an Anglican after all.

Before I could register the passing of time the recessional hymn (All my hope in God is founded) was in full swing and Jane and I took our places at the rear of the column. The timing was good and we were just approaching the main doors as the last verse began: "Still from man to God eternal, sacrifice of praise be done. High above all praises praising for the gift of Christ his son. Christ doth call one and all: (Jane stumbled up a step and there was some flailing of arms as I grabbed her.) ye who follow shall not fall.

Ours was a slightly less than elegant exit and we certainly could not trust ourselves to sing the final few words.

The leavers grouped outside the front door.

"Look I've achieved the necessary learning outcomes required by the church of England."

Big cheer.

"That can be arranged" said the Bishop of Doncaster, who I had forgotten was just behind me in the procession. "Come and see me in my office on Monday morning."

There was much photographing and general milling about accompanied by a lot of random hugging and then we made our way back to the college for a reception. I chatted to Walter and Mark and to Fr. John, my tutor and then Rachel and I decided it was time to make a discreet exit. It was not to be.

"Jack!"

Cathy, Karen and Shan were waving from across the room and there was more hugging.

I tried again only to be intercepted by Ian with some lovely words and a card.

We finally made it only to encounter Barry in the foyer. More handshaking and hugs.

"Just before you go, a word of wisdom. I had a friend who was a Kleptomaniac. When it got really bad he had to take something for it. Gotcha!"

Things will never be the same again!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Only the ordinations at York, Wakefield and Sheffield to get through and Dr. Bob's, Hilda's and Stuart's priestings. If I can cope with them I will have the psychological strength of Charles Atlas.

I think I might cry.

"Here I am Lord. Send me."

No Comments please!

A day with the army.

2010-06-17T17:02:00.032+01:00

Today was the Knowledge College's annual rewards trip to the Catterick Army base for the third and last of their open days this year. Attentive readers may remember that last year's trip was somewhat wet. This year the sun shone all day. (Yes, even in the north of England.) Our four coachloads of the-best-behaved-all-year set off for a fun packed day. I even decided to wear shorts, although I needed to issue sunglasses for those poor souls who would catch the full glare of reflected sunlight from my very pale and sun-starved legs.

As I walked down the corridor to the meeting point I followed two girls in full school uniform.

"Why are all these kids out of uniform?" Bethany shrieked to her friend. (She only does one volume.)

"It's a reward trip for good behaviour."

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"The clue's in the name."

The North Yorkshire countryside is gorgeous at this time of year and my colleague Rachel and I were very conscious that we were probably going to have the best day of the school year and we were being paid for the privilege. (Following last year's trip Jagtar and I were not allocated to the same coach.) We couldn't help wondering what life was like back at the Titanic without our finest and best (staff, of course) to moderate the behaviour of the rest.

"Sir. Will there be toilets here."

"No Emily, we're in the army now. You have to use a bush."

On arrival we waited in the coach for the formalities to be completed.

"That soldier's cute." (from somewhere behind me).

"Which one?"

"The one with the green beret and camouflage combats."

Jagtar, Tim and I found each other. They got the laughter about my legs over and done with and we set off, having released our charges into the tender care of Her Majesty's forces. Two minutes later Jagtar and I had managed the obstacle course of some orange tape marking the entrance but Tim was nowhere in sight. He caught us up.

"You'll have to keep up Tim. This is the army. We can't afford to hang about for stragglers. You'll compromise our operational efficiency."
We passed the usual band of furtive teenage smokers - none of our kids was there - and then the serried ranks of portaloos where a relieved (in every sense) Emily was emerging.

One of the first tents we passed caught my attention because of the sound of brass band music. As a brass player, I can never pass a brass band and I stood in the entrance of the tent listening to a beautifully rendered piece of music. There were fifty or so seats set out for the audience and exactly none of them was occupied. How dispiriting for them. Teenagers eh? Musical Philistines. (Please don't tell me how cultured the Philistines actually were. It's a turn of phrase. Get over it.) I was approached by an officer with a hopeful look on his face bordering on desperation.

"Are you a musician?"

"Yes, I play the Euphonium." There is a strong chance I was the only person he had spoken to in the whole three days of the event. Five minutes later - "Don't dawdle. You'll compromise our operational efficiency" Thanks Tim. I don't think there's ever any need for sarcasm - I was released with a smart corporate briefcase containing brochures, a C.D. a key ring, various pens and a military band arm band. A result I felt. I bet you haven't got one of these Tim.

When I caught them up Jagtar was reading his meal token: "Real adventure for real appetite."

"It'll be bush tucker." I told Tim.

We availed ourselves of the complimentary tea in the teachers' tent and went outside for the first arena display. It was an artillery display. A lot of men were running around pretending to shoot each other. Several took a dive and lay there in the sun. Call me a cynic but I used to do that when I was seven and I wasn't sure that it was entirely helpful for the baddies to be wearing tea towels on their heads either. An orange flare was set off.

"Orange. That's so last year's colour." noted a passing girl. Call me a cynic again but I don't think she was fully entering into the spirit of the occasion. Tim had a brainwave for future trips.

"Instead of bringing four coachloads of our best, why don't we bring a coachload of our worst and then we can turn this display into a firing squad."

We began to compile a list.

We wandered the displays. Arriving at the Royal Engineers tent we saw a jeep with its bonnet up and engine revealed.

"You could have done with this lot Jagtar when your car broke down.....because you'd run out of petrol."

At every display we were engaged in discussion by army personnel. I say we. I mean me. It was gratifying to feel that of the three of us I was perceived as the grown up. Grey hair clearly adds gravitas. A silly hat on the other hand, Jagtar, adds nothing.

As we toured around, the compare in the main arena was trying to drum up enthusiasm. We could hear it over the loudspeaker system. He was flogging a dead horse.

"Come on now. Let's have a Mexican wave. You start in this corner. Go. Yeah. No. Look, you're supposed to join in next. Let's try again. Go. Oh dear, the fat kid missed it."

We passed a dizzying array of military hardware and some awesome vehicles. We wandered over to a table not swarming with kids pointing things at each other and shouting " BANG!" We were able to look at some high-tech vision equipment. Jagtar examined his view intently before putting his hand down on the table. There was an explosion nearby.

"Look, I'll only tell you this one more time, Jagtar. Don't touch anything that looks like a red button!"

We moseyed on, passing the Intelligence Corps tent. It was empty. It was, one felt, a bad omen.

We climbed into a strange looking humveetype thingy. We were instantly at home. Ah, boys and our toys. Tim and Jagtar looked the part: ("Don't touch ANY red buttons.") I was just pleased to take the weight off my feet for a bit. The squaddie in charge told us that this vehicle was deployed to "... do the analysement ..." of soil and air samples where there had been suspected nuclear, biological or chemical activity. "It was widely used in Iraq." He told us proudly.

Hmmm...yes, now, about that. Should we tell him?

I was aware that there were an increasing number of passing salmon-pink children. Also, I felt, so not this year's colour. I soon spotted one of ours. A lovely girl with sandy coloured hair.

"Have you got any sun screen Alex?"

"I have, Sir."

"Are you wearing it?"

"No."

There's something about the teenage mind there. I just can't put my finger on it.....

"I don't know how you recognise these kids" said Jagtar.

"I know. It must be confusing for you. All us white people look the same."

"I was thinking more of the daubed green and brown war paint they're wearing."

I look again.

"I hope they're applying it themselves." said Tim as several girls sauntered by with their upper chest area liberally covered with large green hand-prints.

We passed a Gatling gun. Is that a verb? To gattle? Suggestions on a postcard.

We headed towards the lunch tent, stopping only to allow me to play to my military strength - the placing of country names on a fuzzy-felt world map. They tried to catch me out with North Korea. Amateurs.

She didn't have a place name for every country.

"Where's Estonia?" I asked innocently.

"There." she said confidently, pointing at Belarus.

I fear for the future.

Lunch was a triumph of field catering. What a feast! I had a chicken korma and a large piece of chocolate gateaux. When I came back from a surprisingly pleasant portaloo, Jagtar was on his fourth piece of gateaux. The poor lad: she clearly doesn't feed him properly.

"Anyone here from Newcastle?" (over the speaker system). A ragged cheer in response. "Ah, well, there aren't so many cars being broken into while your here then."

"Imagine" said Tim "that we were drugged by the meal and woke up to discover we'd taken the King's shilling. What would we do?"

I looked at my friends, both of whom work out - and it shows - and felt suddenly sad. As it happens we all harboured a sneaking wish that we had signed up when we were younger. Tim and Jagtar teach I.T. It's hard to imagine the army couldn't find a role for them in Tim's scenario.

"You could be Padre." Jagtar consoled me. Actually, I couldn't because I'm too old although that is a role I hanker after. All was not lost, however. Later on a Colonel, no less, in the careers tent told me the back way in.

"Join the Territorial Army. They're crying out for chaplains."

Ah, just the small ongoing problem of my not actually having been ordained yet.

We stood around gazing skywards waiting for the parachute drop while the poor compare exhausted his repertoire of time-filling details about altitude, body position, speed and cloud cover.

And then we saw them, smoke flares showing their descent pattern. It was, indeed, an object lesson in how to do it. Every one of the six touched down on the target cross in the centre of the arena. It was just magic. Unfortunately the motorcycle display team that followed was not. I don't doubt that they were skilled, don't get me wrong but, call me a cynic if you must, I couldn't actually work out the practical application to military life in Helmand Province of eight guys hanging off one motorcycle at the same time.

"Sorry Tim?"

Six guys and two girls. I stand corrected.

And then home, with Rachel and I sharing a bowl of strawberries as we sped through the lush countryside in the sunshine. It really doesn't get much better than this. And only three weeks before Tim, Jagtar and I can go to Lightwater Valley on the Year 10 end of year trip.

Teaching? It's a man's job if you're tough enough!

Tis the time for .... ordinations

2010-06-14T16:16:00.003+01:00

Please pray for my friends Cathy, Shan, Danny, Mike, John, Ellie, Ann, Barry, Annie, Vicky, Sue, Karen, Ian, Wayne and Harry who graduate from the Yorkshire Ministry Course this week and who will be ordained Deacon in the coming weeks.

Please also pray for Hilda, Richard (Dr. Bob), Stuart, Daphne and Mike who will be Priested in the coming weeks and for Jack who graduated last year and is waiting on the Lord.

A prayer for Ordination:

May God sustain you in celebrating the Sacraments;
in proclaiming the Gospel and in consecrating your life to God
for the good of the people entrusted to your care.

Amen

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the lands!
Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into God's presence with singing!
Know that the Lord is God! It is he that made us, and we are his;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him, bless his name!
For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures for ever,
and his faithfulness to all generations.
(Psalm 100)

A Prayer for those who wait:

As I awoke this morning, I thought about the passing of time and of stepping out in faith. How long do I wait for a breakthrough, during the down times and the quiet times when I feel so alone? As I read, "my grace is sufficient for you," again I find strength in your word to wait on you.

Oh, God, I trust that you, who has begun the good work in me, are faithful to complete it. Today does not look any different than yesterday. My circumstances have not changed. But slowly and surely your Word is taking root in my heart and in it I have confident rest. I know my change will come. I am willing to wait on your perfect timing and your decision which is right.
Thank you for weighing it all out and giving me all and only as much as I can bear. Thank you for the courage to wait and patiently trust that my Father knows what is best for me.

Amen.

With you all the way on that one St. Paul.

2010-06-09T18:41:00.006+01:00

For all sorts of reasons I've been thinking about equal opportunities a lot of late. Some things have happened in my world - but not to me - which I'm not at all happy about. To act or not to act, given that it isn't my problem, that is the question.

Then I received an invitation to preach at a friend's Anglican Church and in the lectionary I find that the Epistle is Galatians 3. 23-29. I think there is a message here I should ponder. Too many coincidences - if you believe in them, of course.

“You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus….There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” The churches have rarely lived up to the radical insights given expression in St. Paul’s writings here and the meaning of today’s Epistle is not that there can be, or should be no distinctions among us, but that there can be no superiority of one over another or exclusion of one by the other. Paul’s words surely affronted first-century Jews steeped in a religion that fostered exclusion as a way of maintaining purity of faith and protection from outsiders: these are the people who prayed: “Thank you Lord, for not making me a foreigner, a slave, or a woman.” Paul rejected and reversed this view by declaring that these distinctions amounted to nothing in the eyes of God and those who would follow Jesus.

In my secular life I am an R.E. teacher and today’s Epistle is a passage that my students examine when we consider the topic of religion and prejudice. They are often perplexed about the limits that this passage appears to place on God’s grace: this age group has a strong sense of the importance of justice and they are cynical about how organised religion seems to find opt-out clauses for particular categories of people. “It’s a bit like that quote from Animal Farm” one girl concluded recently, “where the animals realise that some are more equal than others.”

“So what does the passage from Galatians teach about Christianity and wholeness through equality in the sight of God?” I ask them. Furrowed brows. “O.K. What does it teach about the Christianity of the first century?” We have the beginnings of understanding: “Well,” one answers, “there were divisions in that society between Jews and Greeks, slaves and non-slaves and between the genders.” “Right. So what’s the application for Christians in 2010?” More furrowed brows. “O.K.” I persevere, “Is it an exclusive list? Is it set in stone for all time?” There is a pause and then tentatively: “Sir? Are you saying that those old categories are just examples and that each generation has to apply the spirit of the teaching to its own time?” “So” I ask, “which from St. Paul’s list can we ditch then, because they don’t apply today?” There is a flurry of hands in the air. “Well, Jews and Greeks and slaves and free.” “We’re not left with much then are we?” someone notes “Just male and female.” So I ask them whether they agree that sexism is still an issue in today’s society, in the church even. They do. “So what would we need to add in now that we’ve taken the other two out?” Now they’ve all got it. Everyone has an idea and there is some animated conversation in the class. “O.K. Conclusions?” And now we have a new list. There is neither:

• Black nor white.
• Old nor young.
• Able bodied nor disabled.
• Middle class nor working class
• Straight nor Gay.
• Tall nor short, fat nor thin. And so on. Even ginger people get a passing mention.

“Are you happy that this list is in the spirit of St. Paul’s teaching?”

They are.

And then someone asks: “Are you allowed to do that with the Bible?”

And that’s my question to you here this morning. If these passages we hear week by week are to mean anything to us, and be more than just mildly interesting ancient religious documents, then they must have an application to how we live our lives and to how we relate to each other and how we do that can’t, surely, be bound by the social and religious mores of an earlier age. Can it?

That to me is the challenge of the gospel: am I living a life that reveals God to others? Am I living a life that is in obedience to how God has revealed his will? Does my understanding of Christianity and the way I live it out day to day, enhance or detract from the Gospel? When I articulate the current religious wisdom on a given topic, to what extent do I listen when the “still small voice” within says, “Hang on a minute. Are you entirely sure about that?” Am I wilfully holding on to human prejudices and exhibiting them in my life? Am I even selectively using scripture to prop up those prejudices? And let’s be honest, we all do that when it suits us, particularly when the church isn’t taking a principled stance and offering us the guidance it should.

That’s a challenge: a church that fails to offer that guidance. Just think for a moment. How many times has the church found itself on the wrong side of both history and morality?

Is the world flat? Does the sun orbit around the earth? The church once tried to assert so and violently suppressed evidence and people that argued against it. There is a historic tendency for the church to be controlling and it can sometimes be wrong. Factions within the church close ranks against new interpretations and understandings. Our two churches are products of the consequences of that.

It isn’t that long ago that Black Christians in the U.S. and South Africa were discriminated against and the Bible was used to support that discrimination: theology was hi-jacked in support of courses of action that were far from Godly in their oppression of individuals and groups. The wrong side of history and the wrong side of morality. This parish, your parish, has a woman priest. Other Anglican parishes won’t even consider the idea. In other provinces of the Anglican Church there are women bishops but not here. Yet. The battle is still on. The wrong side of history and the wrong side of morality? Only time will tell.

Both of these examples are clearly against the spirit of the teaching of St. Paul in today’s passage from Galatians, so let’s have a look at my pupils’ revised list. How is the church doing – how is your church doing - today on disableism? On classism? On sizeism or ageism? Actually, probably not too badly. How are you personally doing on those issues? Have you really felt challenged about your attitudes in the light of St. Paul’s teaching (which you won’t have heard here for the first time)? And where are we on issues of human sexuality?

If it is of any reassurance to you, these battles are not uniquely Anglican: in my denomination, as in others, these issues of gender and sexuality have pretty well been resolved. The battles have already been fought and won within the spirit of St. Paul’s teaching. In the search for wholeness other churches, which stress that they remain in obedience to scripture, have asked searching questions about the theological basis for our attitudes to gender and sexuality and drawn other theological conclusions and we pray for you as you face those same battles.

So, what is the challenge today? Another passage of St. Paul, which always causes me to stop and think: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” (Philippians 2.12) If you consider that God’s revelation did not stop at the moment the canon of scripture was decided in 393 A.D. then what is the Spirit telling you here and now, about wholeness in the church? The wrong side of history and the wrong side of morality? The spirit of St. Paul in Galatians? “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” The power of God’s love, freely given, when used by us is sufficient to overcome the human tendency to separate as a result of our distinctions and differences and as a result of our fears. Through this love we can have a collective unity – a single identity as children of God. It is the power of God’s love that can give us courage to move beyond fear and separation into integration, cooperation, interdependence, and mutual respect. This truth is rooted in the fact that each individual has been restored to unity with God by the loving, self-giving action of Christ. In so being restored to God, we can be restored to unity with one another.

Can you do that with the Bible?

How to do Summer dressing for men.

2010-06-05T13:35:00.014+01:00

My beloved and I were sitting in our favourite cafe on our Saturday morning date. (Yes, I know how to show a girl a good time.) It was my turn to sit facing the window: my beloved sees this as something of a disadvantage because, as a people watcher, I have a tendency to pay more attention to the world passing by than to her.

We are in the middle of a heat wave after an overlong, cold and miserable winter, where spring hardly got a look in. As I looked out of the window I was, in turns, perplexed, shocked and occasionally, frankly, disgusted by what I saw parading by. A collective madness descends on the British public when the sun comes out and we feel that atavistic compulsion to discard our winter layers and show our sun-starved and pale flesh to the world.

That is not of itself a bad thing but, having travelled extensively around Europe, North, South, East and West in the Summer months, I note a tendency in the British, only matched and occasionally beaten by our American cousins: the journey from winter woollies to summer shorts by passes one significant stop-over - the mirror. The French, the Italians, the Finns and the Estonians do summer in style. We, on the other hand, are the sartorially lost and confused.

When I next change jobs I am going to join the fashion police: as a meterosexual male and misanthrope I offer the following observation of the British male in the sunshine.

* British men and shorts: this is not a marriage made in Heaven. Amongst all the ill dressed tides of humanity that swept past the cafe window was an elderly man clearly wearing the shorts he was issued in 1946 on demob. Another man of indeterminate middle age wore the sort of genitalia defining very short shorts beloved of the 1970s soccer player. One overweight youth was wearing acres of baggy, bold, floral print.

* Varicose veins are not a fashion statement.

* Men who wear sandals with socks - black, brown and dark blue generally, tend to be given a wide berth by mothers with small children: it is an unconscious response designed to protect the young from exposure to evil.

* The wearing of sports gear as leisure wear: it's just lazy. Don't do it guys. Are you on your way to play sport? No, I thought not with that physique and a cigarette in your mouth.

* The wearing of combat camouflage: are you in the armed forces? (You wish.) No, I thought not. See previous response.

* Tattoos: why do we think they're called POLYNESIAN STYLE? (The clue's in the name.) Yes, because they look good on dark-skinned, muscular, Polynesian fishermen and not on skinny, ginger accountants from Wakefield. The upper-arm Celtic ring really did look cool in 1986. Its now 2010 (no, honestly) and its beginning to look like a serious lapse in judgement.

* Unless you've got that physique, shirts should always be worn unless you are within 50m of sea, lake, lido or river. If you do have that physique, cover up anyway. No-one likes a show off.

* Wear only one pattern: shirt, T-shirt or shorts/trousers. Do not mix and match. You'll look like a train wreck.

* Have you seen how much hair you have on your torso? I recognised you from Planet of the Apes.

* Allow me to introduce you to the concept of the anti-perpirant deodorant in the summer months. You smell and sweat patches are just not cool.

* That slim fitting shirt/T-shirt may have looked good last year. You've had a beer or two since then, no?

* No-one ever needs to see your navel.

* Crocs: don't even start me on that crime against humanity!

* The baseball cap was never cool.

* Look Youth, that woolly hat looked good in January. You just look ridiculous wearing it with a vest top and shorts, right?

* Taupe, beige and pistachio for the over 50s have been banned by the new Coalition government, as has anything with suede inserts.

This is what you do:

* You are allowed to look critically in the mirror.

* You may throw clothes away - especially ones that make you look like a knob and/or no longer fit. Get over it.

* You must go shopping when the summer clothes hit the shops, not once in a decade under sufferance. Take your girlfriend/wife with you. You don't have one? Why am I not surprised?

Failing that. STAY INDOORS ALL SUMMER.

And for My Anglican Friends - If you've not already seen it.

2010-06-04T18:59:00.002+01:00

From Beliefnet: Like most Christians, I don't pay attention to missives from church leaders. This week, however, dueling pastoral letters issued for Pentecost from Rowan Williams, the Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury, and Katharine Jefferts Schori, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, caught my attention--because one so rarely witnesses a first-class theological smack down between tea-drinking Anglican primates.

Unless you've been sleeping in a cave, you are probably aware that the Episcopal Church (of which I am a member) has been arguing about the role of LGBT persons in the church. Along with the Anglican Church of Canada, the Episcopal Church has opened itself toward full inclusion of gay and lesbian Christians. Here in North America, this has caused some defections (fewer than at first predicted), some legal suits (most have been settled in favor of the Episcopal Church), monetary fallout (hard to separate from general economic downturn), and bad feelings (which, sadly enough, remain). But what is most surprising--and I regularly hear this from bishops, clergy, and congregational lay leaders--is that things are much less tense in the Episcopal Church now than they have been in recent years. Folks are moving ahead in their local parishes doing the sorts of things that Episcopalians are pretty good at doing--creating beautiful worship, praying together, and feeding hungry people.

Despite that fact that the Episcopalians are bumpily journeying into a renewed future, some other Anglicans--mostly in Africa--are pretty mad that we've included our gay and lesbian friends and relatives in our churches. Large communities of Anglicans in places like Uganda (the same Uganda that recently tried to pass a death-penalty law for gay people) and Malawi (the same Malawi that recently sentenced a gay couple who wanted to marry to 14-years hard labor) are seriously unhappy with American Episcopalians and Canadian Anglicans.

And this leads us to the Pentecost pastoral letters.

While (somewhat ironically) attending a conference in Washington, DC entitled "Building Bridges," Rowan Williams sent out his Pentecost letter to Anglicans worldwide which, after saying a lot of nice things about missions and diversity, pulls rank and proclaims that he's going to kick people off important committees whose national churches have violated a controversial document called the Anglican Covenant. This includes the Canadians (who let gay Christians get married) and the Americans (who recently ordained a lesbian bishop in Los Angeles) and some Africans (who ordained some Americans who were splitting churches in places like Virginia and Pennsylvania).

In response, Katharine Jefferts Schori essentially, but in a nice sort of Anglican way, accused Williams of being a theological dictator--or, as she says in understated fashion, "Unitary control does not characterize Anglicanism." For non-Anglicans, trust me, those are fightin' words.

This is not a conservative/liberal argument (both Rowan Williams and Katharine Jefferts Schori are theologically liberal). This is a fight between rival versions of Anglicanism--a quarrel extending to the beginning of Anglicanism that has replayed itself periodically through the centuries down to our own time.

Rowan Williams' letter articulates "top-down Anglicanism," a version of the faith that is hierarchical, bishop-centered, concerned with organizational control, and authoritarian. It is an old vision that vests the identity of the church in a chain of authority in the hands of ecclesiastical guardians who agree on "a coherent Anglican identity" and then enforce the boundaries of that identity through legal means. This version of Anglicanism stretches back through the Middle Ages and relates to similar forms of Christianity as found in Roman Catholicism and some forms of Eastern Orthodoxy.

Katharine Jefferts Schori's letter speaks for "bottom-up Anglicanism," a version of the faith that is democratic, parish-based, mission-oriented, and (even) revolutionary. It is also an old vision, one that vests the identity of the church in local communities of Anglicans at prayer, who adapt their way of life and liturgy according to the needs of Christian mission. This version of Anglicanism is rooted in both the ancient Celtic traditions of English Christianity and the missionary work of St. Augustine of Canterbury circa 600.

As history unfolded, different cultures have picked up on one or the other of these two streams--for example, the British church remains primarily hierarchical (even referring to their bishops as "My Lord Bishop"); while the American church is primarily democratic ("God alone is the Lord"). The Ugandan church is authoritarian; while the South African church is revolutionary. The Anglicans in Sydney, Australia are boundary-oriented and communally closed; while most other Anglicans in Australia are liturgically-oriented and open (the Anglicans in Darwin, Australia are so open that their cathedral doesn't even have walls).

At its best, Anglicanism manages the polarities between these tensions--often creating locally innovative expressions of a church that is both hierarchical and democratic, bishop and parish centered, bounded and liturgically open at the same time. Over the centuries, this has been called the Anglican art of comprehension, or the via media (the "middle way").

But once every few hundred years, the tensions explode. This is one of those times.

The argument isn't really about gay and lesbian people nor is it about, as some people claim, the Bible or orthodoxy. Rather, the argument reprises the oldest conflict within Anglicanism--What kind of Anglicans are we to be? How do we relate to the world and culture around us? And very specifically now: What kind of Anglicans are we to be in the 21st century? And how to we relate to the plurality of cultures in which we find ourselves?

Set in this frame, this isn't just an Anglican argument. Roman Catholics, Orthodox Christians, Protestants of all sorts, Jews, Buddhists, and Muslims are having the same arguments within their varying traditions and cultures. What kind of religious faith are we to practice in the 21st century? And how do we relate to the plurality of cultures in which we each find ourselves?

For what it is worth, the river of history does not seem to be on the side of hierarchical church control; rather, history seems to be moving in a the direction of what Thomas Friedman might call "flat church." The tides are pulling most ecclesiastical boats toward bottom-up versions of faith. Hierarchical church control is, as Harvey Cox argues in his book The Future of Faith, a "rearguard attempt to stem a more sweeping tidal change" toward a new experiential, inclusive, and liberationist view of God and faith.

Despite their smack down, I think that Rowan Williams and Katharine Jefferts Schori might actually agree on the fundamental questions of identity, mission, and 21st century change. I also suspect that Rowan Williams would secretly find the "sweeping tidal change" more spiritually interesting than trying to keep the Anglican institutional ship afloat in the waters. But he thinks that he's in charge--and he'll be captain of his Titanic until the last.

As for me, I kinda like this American Episcopal river raft. Better for navigating strong currents.

Diana Butler Bass June 3rd.

Is she right?

Ah, the parents....

2010-06-03T09:43:00.009+01:00

We popped over to the revered elders at the weekend. My mother's always been a bit bonkers - in a nice way - and has the unerring capacity to get the wrong end of the stick. There is an apocryphal story that she once went to a garden centre and asked for a climbing clitoris. Mrs. Malaprop is alive and well and living near Barnsley. As a child I remember an occasion where we were watching "The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau." (That ages me I know.) There was a sea anemone on the screen.

"What a nice little orgasm." My mother noted, looking up from her crossword.

Quick as a flash from my Father, beside her on the sofa: "Look, no hands."

I was mortified.

But I digress.

After a quick analysis of the tennis and my claim to have been emotionally scarred by Wimbledon as a child when I returned from school and found these two, wild haired and square eyed, surrounded by dirty crockery on a daily basis, we were talking about Britain's Got talent and such shows. My beloved was opining that as the warm up man is believed to call it Britain's Got Special Needs there was a degree of corporate cynicism that was going to end in tears when some poor soul topped themselves because of the unaccustomed public attention and the cruelty of the crowd.

"What?" piped up my mother, "At Wimbledon?"

There had been an earlier conversation about hearing-aids. My Dad has some hearing loss and has an NHS hearing-aid.

"Why aren't you wearing it, then?"

"Pardon?"

What a card.

"Well the salesman said a customised hearing aid would cost £6,000" My mother was clearly scandalised.

"No he didn't." (Oh oh, a bit of companionable bickering looms. The daughters roll their eyes.)

"Yes he did."

"No he didn't."

"Well I must have been in another conversation then."

"Look, I'm the one with the hearing problem and I heard him clearly."

There is a certain irony, I feel, about an argument over a hearing aid involving two people who don't hear very well.

At some point, and for no particular reason, the conversation turned to the increase in traffic in our area. My beloved noted that the arrival of speed cameras on the main road would be an advantage as we crossed the road in the rush hour.

"Why" my mother enquired "would you be crossing the road in Russia?"

Watching T.V. with them is a bit of a nightmare and the daughters beg to go home if there is something on they really want to watch. My mother you see, can multi-task: she can read the paper, make tea, nod off, do a crossword and completely lose the plot of a T.V. programme all at the same time.

"So what happened to the blond girl?" (This is going to be tortuous.)

"What blond girl?" (You should know better by now than to ask.)

"The one with the little boy."

The younger daughter is staring daggers as we are talking over Dr. Who - which didn't have a blond woman with or without a little boy.

"He had a dirty football kit."

"Oh God. It's that advert for the pink detergent. She died."

"Oh. Shame. Pretty girl. Is that Frank Sinatra?"

The parents-in-law are no better.

There is a story which has passed into the annals of family history.

The P-I-L were at a party.

"We're going to Evita in January." said the hostess.

"Will it be warm there then? enquired my Mother-in Law.

The Father-in-Law has cataracts. He has cataracts and he is in a bad mood. He doesn't do age well. He doesn't like to drive for obvious reasons. He also doesn't like the way my M-I-L drives so they don't go anywhere.

"What about public transport?" I ask my beloved.

"No, mum had that virus before Christmas and since then she throws up on buses. She said she was going for an outpoint appatientment."

Is this the future?

I can not help but wonder what examples of parental madness my brood is storing up for future humiliation.

The U.K's approach to the Eurovision Song Contest owes everything to Father Ted.

2010-06-01T10:32:00.003+01:00

Considering that we virtually pay for it, one can't help wondering who at the BBC is in charge of the annual national humiliation known as the Eurovision Song Contest.

Well now: where to start? My beloved says there is an anti-British Bias. That may be true to an extent but if people are still prepared to vote for Serbia and Israel I'm not entirely convinced.

I have heard others say that it is harder for Western European countries to win these days but Norway and Germany in succession seem to dispel that idea too.

In the end we didn't deserve to win but neither did we deserve to come last but it seems wings, dancers, pyrotechnics, acrobats and jugglers help.

The sooner we stop treating our selection as amateur night the better. The German song has been in the charts all over Europe for weeks. I didn't hear ours between selection and the big night. The BBC won't even champion it by giving it airtime.

Alternatively we could do an Italy and not bother at all.

Indulge me here: I don't understand anything anymore.

2010-05-27T18:19:00.008+01:00

This one got through to the final: Serbia. Folk dancing in national costume. You don't fool me with your peasant dancing and girly haircut: I remember Srebrenica! Take me now Lord. Take me now!

And this one didn't: Malta What's wrong with no gimmicks?

I rest my case.

Of course we didn't get to vote in Tuesday's semi-final. God only knows what awaits us in tonight's, when we can!

Eurovision

2010-05-26T20:24:00.005+01:00

Just to follow the theme that developed from the previous post.

Well, here we go again!

If the quality of what we saw in Tuesday's semi-final is anything to go by, Saturday promises to be a long night!

I used to be an unerring picker of the winner but since all these pretend countries like Armenia, Moldova and Azerbaijan have joined, the level of political voting has made it impossible.

"And finally, we give 12 marks to our dear friends and neighbours........"

Oh puleeese!

After a reasonable attempt at taking things seriously last year the U.K. has reverted to amateur night again. Another national embarrassment. It will all end in tears.

And Finally.....

2010-05-24T19:00:00.002+01:00

Danielle....

Or Sophie....

And the winner is....

So, were we good or was he in a bad mood?

2010-05-22T12:00:00.011+01:00

Review: Leeds Philharmonic & Festival Choruses

Leeds Town Hall

Gerontius was on his death bed when the Leeds choruses departed for a coffee break. Would he survive until they returned?

With audiences well acquainted with the length of Mahler and Bruckner symphonies, it is surely irrational and irresponsible to divide Elgar's great masterpiece, the Dream of Gerontius, on both sides of an interval.

It could have been doubly irksome had something very special been coming from the stage, but in a age where technical perfection is becoming paramount, we are in danger of music losing the flawed passion of yesteryear.

Such was the case here, the sheer weight and precise intonation was mightily impressive, yet their beautiful tone simply lacked the nastiness required when cast as the Demons to terrify Gerontius.

Brindley Sherratt (Bass) was the striking bass soloist in his differing dual role as the Priest and Angel of Agony, and much though we regretted the absence of the great mezzo, Sarah Connolly, her late replacement, Catherine Wyn-Rogers, was full of good intentions as the Angel.

For too long, Paul Nilon (Gerontius - Tenor) had his head pointing down to his score.

Reliable support from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, Simon Wright's conducting always sympathetic.

David Denton

So, less perfection and more flaws then? Paul Nilon had so much to sing, he carried the whole thing and was wonderful. Is the best that can be said of his performance really that he didn't know the work off by heart? As for the interval - you try singing the whole thing in one go in an over warm town hall with no chance to rehydrate! Still as my friend Graeme pointed out, by reading this review free online we haven't added to the Yorkshire Post's profit margins!

Establishing a Christian Ethos

2010-05-21T15:07:00.003+01:00

So how do we establish a Christian ethos in an organisation that has a Christian identity but where not everyone identifies as Christian?